A lot has happened in the three months since I took the title of Ryuo, including taking on my first apprentice, a girl in the third grade. One thing led to another and now she’s living with me.

“Mngh … It’s just too haaard …”

This nine-year-old girl sitting in front of me, her soft cheeks rosier than you can imagine, leaned over with her cute eyes glued to her Master’s round formation, whining like a puppy.

This girl is so cute, I’d swear she’s an angel.

Feeling a little guilty that my wall got this hard playing with an innocent, still young enough to be considered “little” little girl like this, didn’t stop me.

It’s so hard, this is bordering on inappropriate advantage.

“Nh …”

My first apprentice, Ai Hinatsuru, takes a few hot, moist breaths before exposing her position and inviting me to make my move.

A bold technique for an elementary school girl.

But, I just gotta …

“… You sure, Ai?”

My young apprentice has made her decision, and I confirm.

She …

“……”

She nods and says nothing, her little body trembling ever so slightly …

I hesitate for only a moment, but my mind is made up. It’s an open invitation.

“Here I go …”

“Y-yes …!”

I reach out, aiming for her most vital point, closer and closer.

Then, just as my finger touched it …

“Ah! N-no, I take it back!!”

Ai’s whole body flinches, unable to hold back a scream for mercy.

She never expected my hand to go there, and her knee-jerk reaction is priceless. But I’m enjoying every second of it.

“Shisho, please … wait …”

“No.”

I speak coolly. Waiting isn’t allowed.

“That word doesn’t exist for professional Shogi players.”

“Hyee …!” Ai is on the verge of tears.

A perfectly normal reaction losing your Rook (hisha) and being put in check (oute) at the same time. Love has no place on a Shogi board.

April. Osaka.

The cherry blossom trees in Osaka Castle Park are a few days past full bloom, their many petals fluttering to the ground like pink snow on a warm spring breeze.

People have come from far and wide to look at the pink flowers tilt their heads in our direction.

“… What’er they doin’?”

“… Shogi? Here, of all places?”

“Even cute little girls like that play Shogi?”

“Wouldn’ it be a real pain, draggin’ that thing out of the house? Their Shogi board don’t look all that light …”

“Hold up, isn’t that Yaichi Kuzuryu, the pro Shogi player?”

A few Shogi fans recognize me and start snapping pictures with their smartphones.

Ai and I have been playing a game of Shogi beneath a particularly marvelous blossoming cherry tree in the middle of a park on the west of Osaka Castle, Maruteien, known for cherry blossoms.

We’ve been at it since early this morning, so a lot of fallen petals have gotten stuck in Ai’s smooth, shiny hair already.

I whisk away the petals that fell on the board with my fan and point at the chess clock (basically two alarm clocks that keep time for Shogi matches; accurate down to the second) to put more pressure on my apprentice.

“See? You’ll run out of time if you don’t move fast!”

“Uwh … mmhh …!”

From there, she put up a better fight than the usual grade schooler, her eyes absolutely on fire. But she couldn’t hold off the Ryuo’s attack at such an overwhelming disadvantage and threw in the towel.

“… I lost,” she says, her whole body writhing in the agony of defeat.

Then she points at my side of the board, specifically the hard, impenetrable circle of defense around my King.

“You’re mean, Master! That’s evil! What am I supposed to do about it: a King hiding behind a hard wall like that?!”

“Told you, didn’t I? An even match wouldn’t be a match at all.”

Of course, a grade schooler challenging a pro Shogi player to a game with no handicap would get their butt handed to them on a silver platter.

Even if this grade schooler was far better than average.

I know she’s got real talent. That’s why I didn’t show mercy, and why I took her as my apprentice. This is talent that any professional Shogi player must have, and she’s got it in spades.

And that talent is …

“One more! One more match, please!”

“Another one? What’re we up to now? Twenty? Thirty …?”

We’ve been nonstop since this morning, but she still hasn’t had enough. Not that I don’t understand where she’s coming from.

After all, Shogi pros are people who can go out for a night of karaoke and spend it huddled around a smuggled-in Shogi board without singing a single song. That includes me.

I’ve lost pieces to the ocean waves on trips to the beach, played quick league matches with my head in a fog due to altitude sickness after climbing a mountain …

“Hey, aren’t Ginko and Keika late? Mio and her friends should be here by now too …”

“You’re right. Oh, wanna play a match while we wait? Wanna? Wanna?!”

A lightbulb clicked on.

“Ai … Did you tell everyone about the picnic today?”

“I told them?”

“You didn’t, did you?”

“I did, I did! … Just might’ve fibbed the time a little bit.”

“Hey!”

“It’s fine. They’ll come in about four hours.”

Four whole hours.

“It’ll be night by then! Why the heck did you do that?!”

“B-but …”

Ai looks away, puckering her lips and says barely above a whisper, “… I wanted to play, play, play and play Shogi, just the two of us …”

“……!!”

That has to be against the rules.

This little girl, so cute that everyone walking through Osaka Castle’s massive park is rubber necking for a closer look, asking me to play Shogi with those big, trembling eyes glistening with tears.

And she’s my apprentice—my very first one.

I can’t! How could anyone resist that? It’s impossible!!

“… Ten-minute waiting time. Thirty seconds once it’s out, got it?”

“Yay! I love you, Master♡”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Sure, that no-holds-barred confession of love made my heart skip a beat, but I remind myself she’s in grade school right away. I don’t have a Lolita complex or anything. But she’s just too damn cute. Gah …

Cursing myself for giving into her every whim, we start lining up pieces on the board, excitedly clacking back and forth like people playing catch.

This tiny little girl sitting in front of a thick Shogi board.

She showed up out of the blue one day, appearing like an angel and I was saved.

Saved by her purity, and by her love of Shogi.

“Whenever you’re ready!”

All pieces lined up in a neat little row, Ai sits up straight with perfect posture before bowing so low that she almost hits her forehead on the board.

As soon as my bow is complete, she’s already up and holding her first piece as if the match can’t start soon enough. Her small hand dances over the board as more delicate pink petals dance on the breeze overhead.

“…… Nh!”

Making the first move, Ai slaps the piece into place with a loud click! Sighs come from the people who came here to see the cherry blossom trees but instead happened to witness something more beautiful and fleeting than the pink flowers.

Then Ai sits up a little bit, stretching out to reach the chess clock and gives it a hard whack.

Now it’s my turn.

Huh, seeing the clock tick like this sure brings back memories.

A man’s yell blares through Naniwa’s streets.

This is Osaka. A rather strange building with Shogi Kaikan written in big, bold letters on the outside wall.

Said man loosens his belt and leans out the fifth-floor window, pants falling to his knees, exposing his boxer shorts for all to see, and yells at the top of his lungs.

“Wizz! Gonna wiz!”

“Kiyotaki-sensei! Get down from there, it’s dangerous!!”

“You’re a full-fledged 9-dan! What’s a fifty year old like yourself doin’ up there?!”

“WIZZZZZZ!! WIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!”

All the staff members here at the Kansai Shogi Headquarters and other pro Shogi players like myself rush in to stop him, but the man—Kousuke Kiyotaki 9-dan (50 years old)—didn’t listen. He was actually getting even louder, more insistent.

“That a jumper?!”

“Huh?! Underpants?!”

Office workers, men and women alike, stopping to gawk at street level down below. Heck, they’re taking pics with their smartphones.

“Master!! Please, stop!! This is madness!!”

I, Yaichi Kuzuryu, grab hold of my Master, Kousuke Kiyotaki’s waist to keep him from falling out the window and pull with everything I’ve got.

“Hands off me, Yaichiiiii!! I’m gonna … gonna wiz right herrrrreeeee!!”

My Master yells with his skivvies fully exposed and clinging to the windowsill. Practically howling.

“WIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!”

Why has he gone off the deep end?

Why is a fifty-year-old man bound and determined to relieve himself out the window of our workplace?

It all started a few hours ago–.

“Master versus apprentice.”

The first sanctioned match between us since I became a professional.

“I would like to show my Master how much I’ve grown, and to complete a Gratitude,” I told the reporters just before the match got underway.

After turning pro at fifteen years old in October two years ago, I shocked the world of professional Shogi by becoming only the fourth junior high student to do so in history and the youngest person to ever hold the title at the same time. Everyone’s attention was on me.

And although my Master, Kousuke Kiyotaki 9-dan, only has a few titles to his name, he’s a seasoned veteran who’s gone all the way to two major title matches.

With his deep, complex strategies and burning desire to win, he’s a prominent figure in Kansai’s Shogi scene.

“The opponent may be an apprentice of mine, but he’s a title holder as well. I relish the opportunity to test my abilities against such skill. I want to unleash my youthful spirit, let it flow freely during today’s match.”

He sat on his ankles, grinning at me with his eyes while talking with the reporters. I swear his fighting spirit was spewing out from behind that new suit he was wearing.

After we agreed to shake hands over the Shogi board to satisfy a reporter’s request, the air in here took on a somber, but kind of warm tone: my first real match against my Master got underway–––.

“WIIIIIZZZZZ FOUNTAAAAAIIIINNNN!!”

“DON’T YOU DAAAAAARRRRRRRRREEEEE!!”

Every free hand at the Japan Shogi Association Headquarters moves in to stop the wiz fountain from liftoff.

Oh yeah, I won the match.

The Shogi world has a word for when a student defeats their Master: Gratitude.

“This is how strong I’ve become. Thank you for your teachings.”

We express that gratitude not with words, but with victory.

But it’s also true that losing a Shogi match, even if it’s to your adorable apprentice, hurts like hell: being so handily beaten by someone you think of as your own kid, someone who barely stood a chance against you without a handicap only a few years ago!

Now that would take your pro player pride down a few notches, and probably hurt sooo much more than the average loss.

“Think of the position that you relieving yourself here would put me in, Master!”

“WIZZZZZZZZZZZZ!! WIZ FOUNTAAAAIIIINNN!!”

That’s my Master (50) clinging to the windowsill like a spoiled child refusing to leave a toy store. I realize he’s hurting, but this is way too much.

The reporters came here hoping to write a heart-touching story with quotes like “You’ve grown strong, Yaichi” and my teary-eyed “M-Master!” But instead get a “wiz fountain” photo opp. There’s no way they can write about this.

And, honestly, I’m disappointed.

Never in a million years did I think that he’d praise me, but I was hoping that he’d show some grace in defeat, like an honorable samurai of the Shogi world.

But the reality is completely different. The reality is an old man going number one.

He ended the match, acknowledging defeat by throwing captured pieces onto the board (horrible manners by the way) and staying silent in agony. Face down, staring into his lap, shoulders shaking. It hurt, it hurt so bad that his body shook.

Talk about an awkward silence, and I couldn’t say anything. “Oh boy … Now I’ve done it …” That kind of feeling while sitting on my own feet.

Normally, we’d be dissecting the match about now, but it clearly wasn’t the right mood for that. Even the reporters were staring at the floor like they were attending a vigil or at somebody’s funeral.

Master just sat there quivering for upwards of fifteen minutes.

Then, completely out of the blue, he jumped to his feet and ran over to the window, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“WWWWWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ––––––––––!!”

“ENOUGH ALREADYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY—––––––––!!”

I’ve had it! I can’t take this anymore!

I hate to do this, especially to my own Master … But I can throw my weight around.

“As Ryuo, I order you to use the toilet like a grown man!!”

“……!!”

His whole body twitches, the hand that was on its way to pull down his boxers stops in midair.

Shogi begins and ends with respect, a bow. It’s a battle of minds built on tradition and formality.

After today’s match, he knows I’ve claimed the seat of honor. It doesn’t matter how many years he has on me, or even that he’s my Master, I hold a higher-ranking title and he has to respect that.

Especially since that title, Ryuo, is one of seven in the world of Shogi that denotes “mastery” of the craft, a title like Meijin.

“Now, Master. No, Kiyotaki 9-dan, lift up your pants.”

“…………………… KuzuRyuo.”

“Say what?”

“Ryuo my bum, ya piece of trash! Ya got that title out of sheer luck, KuzuRyuo!”

F-Frickin’ geezer …… Callin’ me trash, are you ……?!

“That’s Kuzuryu Ryuo, not KuzuRyuo, thank you very much! Besides, you’re the one that lost!!”

“Some magazine threw this joke of a match together! Wasn’t a league match, so it doesn’t count!!”

“The match was organized by the best-selling Shogi magazine in the world, Shogi World! It carries the same weight as a league match!!

“There are other Shogi magazines out there! Ever heard of NHK Shogi Kouza or Tsume Shogi Paradise?!”

“Best in the world means best in the world! To the tune of 200,000 in print!!”

Pro, amateur, it doesn’t matter. If there’s anything you want to know about Shogi, you can find it within its pages: that’s Shogi World in a nutshell.

“Know what I think? I think you should just own up to losing to your apprentice if it hurts that bad! Stop making excuses!”

“Oh, the paaaiiinnn! Losing to the KuzuRyuo, who can’t even win thirty percent of his matches, so painfuuul!!”

“Call me trash, one more time old man, one more!!”

“One? I’ll go for a hundred, ya kuzu trash kuzu trash kuzu trash kuzu TRAAASH!!”

“You’re not my Master anymore! I’m expelling you!!”

Master, apprentice, we’re done, it’s all over! I’m gonna put this geezer in his place! Then take him to the john.

That’s when it happened.

“Yaichi.”

“Oh! Big Sis!”

A silver-haired, pretty girl with snow-white skin wearing a sailor-style school uniform had been standing quietly behind me the whole time.

Ginko Sora.

I’m older but still have to refer to her like an older sister just because she started before I did, Kiyotaki-sensei’s very first apprentice.

“Sis, something … anything to hide it! Anything to cover up Shisho’s thing!!”

“Here.”

“You’re the best! Already waiting with—.”

I freeze as soon as I see what’s in her hand.

It’s a lid, the one for the box where the Shogi pieces are kept.

“Too small! Too small any way you look at it!!”

“Big enough to house the King and his Pawns.”

“This is no time for dirty jokes!!”

Damnit woman, get me a floor pillow or something before making wisecracks!

“Big Sis! Stop fooling around and do something!!”

“Why don’t you join in at the sill, pee along with him?”

“ME?! WHY?!”

“It’ll be a funny Master and apprentice story someday.”

“The hell it will!”

While she and I were yelling at each other like some kind of comedy routine, Master pulls down his pants and,

“HYOOOOOOOOO—–––—–––—–––—–––!!”

A really weird howl, and release.

“Uh-oh!”

“Yaay!”

Other veteran players and sensei watching from a safe distance cheer like they’re enjoying a show. Please no! Quit cheering and stop him!

“Master! Please, cover that dirty thing! MAAASTEEER!!”

“WWIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!”

“Look out! Run away!”

“EEEEEEEEK–––!! It’s on my face! On my face!”

My scream and Master’s beastly cry, not to mention all the hecklers looking at us from the street, plunge the streets of Naniwa into early afternoon chaos …

“They’ve gone.”

“… Indeed.”

Just Ginko and I, watching the taxi drive away.

The staff members start coming up to me now that I’m finally free from the ordeal but they look like they weren’t really sure what to say.

“Kuzuryu-sensei, Sora-sensei, I’m sure it’s been a trying day. We’ll handle the rest so …”

“No. We’ll finish this ourselves,” Ginko said flatly.

The chore of cleaning up all of that splattered urine was still waiting to be done.

“I-I must protest … This isn’t a job the two of you are meant to do.”

“A Master’s shame is an apprentice’s burden to bear.”

“But …”

The guy kept protesting to the bitter end, but got called away to take care of something else. So the job fell to us in the end anyway and we went back inside the building. The Shogi community is busy again today.

The instant Ginko got a mop and a bucket from another staff member, she turned right around and gave them right to her little brother: none other than me.

“Why only me?!”

“Divvying up duties. I’ll go issue an apology for the trouble.”

“Oh? As a titleholder, going out in public should be my responsibility—.”

“A title? I also have a title.”

Yes, she’s right. Two of them even, gah …!

She turns her back to me, sailor skirt twirling at her waist, and says, “I wish to offer a heartfelt apology to everyone affected by today’s events. Those wishing to issue a claim, please contact the Japanese Shogi Association Headquarters for further information–––.”

She finishes with a bow. People passing through stop for a look and start excitedly whispering to each other.

“Hold it! Are you … d-don’t tell me, Naniwa’s Snow White?!”

“…”

“I saw you on TV! Can I have your autograph?!”

Big Sis, surrounded in the blink of an eye. Well, somebody’s popular.

“Squee! She’s so cute!”

“Wow, Snow White really is snow white!”

All the girls love her. Heeey over there. The Ryuo is right here! Even taking off my glasses doesn’t get anyone to notice me.

“Naniwa’s Snow White,” is Ginko’s alias.

It was started by some Shogi magazine but really took off when there was a piece on TV about her last year. I may have been a junior high pro and the youngest Ryuo in history, but I’m constantly hidden in her fame’s shadow. Gah …!

By the way, she doesn’t like her alias at all.

Only in junior high school, she said she “doesn’t need” the nickname “Naniwa’s Snow White” even though it’s more recognizable than “Naniwa’s Rocky” and “Naniwa’s Mozart” here in Osaka. It really rubs her the wrong way: although I’d be willing to bet most people would love to be in her shoes.

It’s proof of both her popularity and skill in the world of Shogi. Only real star players get dubbed a nickname. People like The Man Who’s Always 100 Million and Three Steps Ahead in One Second and The Early Game Edison and Wizard of the Final Curtain and Power of Youth and Virtuous Advance and Crouching Monk and Standard Preacher and Wood-Chopping Paul Bunyan and others are spine-chillingly cool. Now you might be thinking: wood chopping? That’s got nothing to do with Shogi! Just wood! But it strikes a real cord with the more refined Shogi fans.

“Haa … Such a pain.”

Her impromptu autograph session coming to a close, Ginko opens a parasol and lets out a long sigh.

“The annoying thing about having titles is that these things happen all the time …”

“Such an embarrassment of riches you have there, Sis.”

“Want your head on a pike?”

Oh, and by the way, both her titles are from women-only tournaments.

Six in all. My senior holds “Queen” and “Women’s Throne.” So “Princess” as an alias but “Queen” as a title: ironic, isn’t it (lol)?

Claiming all the titles isn’t some far-off dream for someone with her abilities, but she can’t with the rules how they are. I’ll get into that later, so look forward to it!

“Yaichi, stop twiddling your thumbs and start. Get it over with.”

“Take a look around, he wizzed all over the place …”

“Shogi players’ hands move before opening their mouths.”

Sure, sure. I buck up and start mopping.

“But my word, that incontinent geezer …! How the heck did he hit all the way over there?! How many liters did he spew?!”

“Can’t be helped. Everyone drinks lots of water during matches.”

It’s often said that the body craves sugar when the mind kicks into high gear, but Shogi players tend to find themselves craving something a bit more vital when choosing their next move.

Water.

Some players will bring upwards of five two-liter bottles to their matches and many will drink a whole cup between moves toward the end, meaning a lot of trips to the john.

To be a pro Shogi player is to be in a constant battle with your bladder and, all kidding aside, there’s a very real possibility of forfeiting a match because time ran out while in the restroom. I think I’ve spent enough time talking about pee.

“Apparently, regulation Go matches have built-in potty breaks. Now if only the Shogi World would catch on.”

“Weak …”

“Huh? You calling me weak, Big Sis? Okay then, what would you do if you couldn’t hold it in anymore?”

“Let it flow.”

“……?”

“Wetting yourself is nothing compared to the shame of losing a match, yes?”

She’s serious.

“Shogi is a battle of life and death, is it not? It’s a duel where only one comes out alive. There’s no time to worry about a little pee when your life is on the line.”

“You have so much in common with Master, it’s amazing.”

“Your head, on a pike.”

It pains me, but I’ve got to respect that. What is she, a feudal warlord? A girl like that would dominate the women’s Shogi world, no sweat.

Evening was upon us by the time she’d finally given me the okay. Thus, my long affair with the wiz fountain came to an end. And no, there are no bittersweet feelings.

“Yaichi.”

Big Sis stops me just as I was about to return the mop and bucket—and wraps her arm around my neck.

“I’ll give you … a treat.”

“Say what?! A-a treat, from you …? What in the world would—.”

“Here you go.”

Then she draped something stiff and starchy around my shoulders. Master’s suit pants.

“Why the hell would I want this?! What in blazes would I do with it at home?!”

“Take a whiff?”

“Why?! What kind of pervert would take his Master’s pants home to enjoy the smell?!”

“It’ll be a good memento.”

“Memento? Of what?! To induce nightmares about today every time I see them?!”

“The knee.”

Ok, that was unexpected. I stop and unfold Master’s pants.

The right knee is all wrinkled up but the left is nice and smooth.

“Rather than jumping at the first strategy that comes to mind, Shogi players resist the urge by squeezing their pants. That’s why a right-handed player’s right pant leg is always wrinkled, same for the left-handed ones but on the opposite side … Yes?”

Hearing her say that makes me glance at my own knees.

Sure enough, only the right side is wrinkled.

A Shogi player’s gut instincts are right seventy percent of the time. It’s pretty common for the first strategy they come up with to carry the day.

But the other thirty percent will snatch defeat from the claws of victory.

Especially when you think to yourself, “It’s perfect!” and charge straight ahead without thinking, turning your “perfect idea” into a horrible one. A lot of players end up losing that way every once in a while.

That’s why we endure.

Fight off the urge to make the move right away by squeezing our pants and read what’s on the board.

All these wrinkles are proof that Master didn’t hold anything back during the match. Irrefutable evidence that he took it seriously despite playing against his apprentice.

“… We used to copy that all the time, making these wrinkles.”

“… That we did.”

“We wanted to be like him so bad that we’d squeeze our right pant leg like he did, even when we weren’t playing, just to get the wrinkles.”

“And got yelled at right away for ruining our pants.”

The two of us force smiles, reminiscing about our younger days when we’d do anything to look like a pro.

Ginko hides her face behind her parasol and says, “… I think Master was happy to play against you. Probably been getting ready for a long time … Put in as much preparation as a league match, just as much focus and determination too. I think he gave you everything he had. So—.”

“… Yes. I know he did.”

I nodded and give Master’s pants a firm squeeze. I can tell by looking at the wrinkles: tell how he felt during our battle and how he felt doing what he did afterward.

Today, one of Shogi’s holy sites was blessed with a trickle of holy water.

It could very well have been Master’s passionate tears …

“You were about to call them garbage, weren’t you?! These, Master’s perfectly wonderful pants, and you’re treating them like garbage?!”

“No I’m not.”

“Then what were you going to say?!”

“G … racias.” (Thank you)

Spanish?!

“Um, could we just decide who takes the pants with a game of rock paper scissors? I’ve got no problem with the wrinkled knee, but there’s a really suspicious spot near the groin—.”

“Yaichi, tomorrow, are you free?”

“Huh? … Well, yeah. I’ve got a match the day after but not doing much of anything tomorrow.”

“Then versus, tomorrow afternoon at your place.”

“Versus” is what we call a one-on-one Shogi practice match. Big Sis has moved on, completely blowing off the pants.

“But tomorrow’s a weekday, yes? What about school? Going to play hooky?”

“Public school’s finished today. Spring break starts tomorrow … not that the unemployed Yaichi would know about it.”

“Unemployed …? Pro Shogi player, hello?”

Then again, I didn’t go to high school.

A lot of pro Shogi players have been going to high school and college recently, heck, most go to high school. But I became a professional in my third year of junior high, so there wasn’t much point in going the academic route. I gave up on it early on and chose this life.

But if I had gone to high school … I’d be a junior this year.

There wasn’t much for me outside of Shogi anyway, so I don’t regret my decision in the slightest. But if you were to ask if I was living the dream, happily playing Shogi every day, I’d say it’s not all fun and games …

“That’s fine Big Sis, but these pants—.”

“Tomorrow, versus in the afternoon. Forget and you’ll end up six feet under.”

With that strongly worded salutation, she struts off toward the station with the parasol over her head. I’m all alone, holding Master’s pants (stain and all).

“Haaa …… Might as well head home.”

I fold up the pants and stuff them into my second bag, pulling out my smartphone at the same time and turning it on.

Opening up my Internet browser right off the bat, I look at the “Shogi and Chess” message board and scan the list of threads for my name. Right at the top! I’m popular.

‘Folding cranes in hopes that KuzuRyuo Yaichi Kuzuryu loses the title of Ryuo.’ 108 pages (30% win rate)

“… And the list grows.”

I couldn’t check the message boards because I’m required by rule to turn off my phone before a match, but I’m sure there weren’t one hundred pages this morning. I’m really popular …

Since anyone can see matches online nowadays, the more passionate Shogi fans (?) flood the message boards while watching them in the afternoon. Okay, let’s see what they’re saying.

‘Only the fourth junior high pro and the youngest title holder in history, let’s hear what you have to say about the sixteen-years four-months old Yaichi Kuzuryu-Ryuo, the fastest ever to reach the top of the Shogi World!’

‘All his talent got used up in the Ryuo Title Match, piece of trash.’

‘Worked real hard for the high stakes Ryuo Title Match to get the green, but doesn’t do jack to prepare for anything else, total trash.’

‘Got no problem losing to other pros, but no, has to dismantle his Master. Kuzu gives trash a bad name.’

‘Just came. How’d the match go? He pulled off Gratitude?’

‘Holed up like a badger and slaughtered his Master.’

‘Seriously …? Wow, Kuzu’s trash.’

‘But it wasn’t a league match, so the slump continues!’

‘I tell you, his matches have been a yawn fest ever since he claimed the title.’

‘Got that right. Gives up on a dime, plays defensively and never attacks anymore.’

‘All by the books, nothing else. Boring and always loses, worst Ryuo ever, Kuzu Ryuo.’

‘He’ll lose the title if this losing streak keeps up all the way to October. Now that’d be legendary.’

‘Become the youngest to receive and lose a title ever … The guy’s a genius.’

‘What’ll happen if he loses the title?’

‘He was 8-dan during the Ryuo Title Match, so you go back to being Yaichi Kuzuryu 8-dan.’

‘818-dan. Lolol’

‘That’d outrank Ryuo for sure! Haha.’

‘Might as well get back to work folding these cranes, praying that he rises to the great 818.’

… That’s the last one I read before slipping my phone into my pocket. Man, I feel sick …

My thread exploded right around the Ryuo Title Match, but then turned vicious at the drop of a hat once I took the title.

When I lose, I’m “disgracing the name of Ryuo.” But if I win, my play style was “boring.” Where is all this hate coming from? If only I knew why.

Meanwhile, people start threads about Ginko called “’The really cute’ Ginko Sora Support Thread ‘strongest in history’.” Fans love her. The envy … oh, the envy …

I–Yaichi Kuzuryu, am a professional Shogi player.

Pro Shogi players are members of the “Japan Shogi Association” … Basically people who get paid to participate in Shogi matches. Therefore, I’m not unemployed.

Anyone, no matter how old, man or woman, disabled in any way, shape or form can go pro as long as they’re good at Shogi. If they’re very good, fame and fortune are just a matter of time. But they’ll be forced to retire after ten years if not good enough.

Strength is the be-all end-all in the world of Shogi, where only the strongest players survive.

That’s pro Shogi, plain and simple.

There is, however, one condition other than strength required to become a professional.

That’s having a “Master.”

You need someone who’s already a professional to take you under their wing before you can become a professional yourself.

This Master-apprentice relationship may be the pillar that holds up the Shogi world … And I can’t speak for how things are on the outside, but there’s no advantage to taking on an apprentice in the world of Shogi.

It’s a long-held tradition that Masters receive no awards or payment of any kind for training their apprentices.

I have no idea how many matches Master Kiyotaki has played with me and Big Sis since we became his apprentices back when we were kids, probably tens of thousands. He sacrificed all of that time and energy so that we could improve.

“And I had to go and beat him in a match after everything he’s done …”

I know this Master-apprentice system is necessary to keep the Shogi world healthy and growing, but I can’t think of a single good reason to take an apprentice myself. Will the day come when I lose to an apprentice of mine and want to pee out the window …?

“Well … Even if I do take an apprentice, that’s still a long way down the road!”

I’m not the only person to hold the title in their teens, but I’ve never heard of anyone around my age taking an apprentice.

Even if I do take one, that won’t be until I’m in my twenties at the earliest and sacrificing my own time to train someone else is the last thing on my mind. ‘Can’t even take care of himself’—the message boards would have a field day …

I rode that train of thought all the way home.

I live by myself in the middle of the shopping district just down the street from the Shogi Association Headquarters. The walk doesn’t even take ten minutes.

I make my way up past the doors, with no autolock and no elevator in sight, to my room on the second floor of this shabby old apartment building. I open the door and try to stave off the loneliness that accompanies people who live on their own with a happy greeting.

“I’m home! Not that there’s anyone here to say hellooooooooooooo?!”

There is.

Someone’s here, in this room that should be empty.

A little girl I’ve never seen before—a girl who looks like an elementary school student no less, is right there, and greets me with a bubbly smile the moment she sees my face.

“Welcome home! Master!”

…… Come again?

Let’s sort a few things out.

“I’m here to become your apprentice, like you promised!!”

… Huh?

Three wins and three losses. The Ryuo Title Match taking place at a high-class Japanese-style inn near a hot spring in Wakura, Ishikawa Prefecture had reached full set, the final match was about to begin.

“Y-Yes! That was me!”

Nodding her head up and down frenetically, the little girl squeezes her fists just above her knees.

“Is that right?”

…… I don’t remember a thing.

Hmmm. Well, I remember talking with somebody, but as for who it was or what we talked about, I don’t have a clue.

“And? I promised to make you my apprentice?”

“Well … Um. …”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t … use those words exactly but …”

She’s beating around the bush.

Maybe she’s twisting my words to fit what she wanted to hear? Maybe what I really said was along the lines of a casual, “Hello, I’ll teach you how to play Shogi” type of promise.

“What were my words, exactly?”

“’I’ll do whatever you want if I win the title.’”

Promised the world, didn’t I?

Did I really say that? Well, yeah, probably. Titles are the most important thing to pro Shogi players. We’d sell our souls to the devil just to get one. Granting some kid’s wish would be a piece of cake. Heck, if the Shogi gods came to me and said, “Eat poop and I’ll grant you a title,” I’d eat it. No question.

But … why would she want to be my apprentice of all things?

And I literally just made up my mind not to take apprentices just a moment ago.

“Okay. I’ll keep my promise.”

“Really?!”

“But, only after you take a test.”

“Test …?”

“Because I want to see what you can do,” I say and walk to the tatami room.

Being an apartment close to the Shogi Association headquarters where a young pro and his senior apprentice often play against each other and host practice sessions, the tatami room is the designated Shogi space.

“Please, come in. Sorry about the mess.”

“E … excuse the intrusion …”

I point my finger, directing her to one of the floor mats and she cautiously settles in.

Getting a good look at the petrified girl sitting on her ankles, I gotta say, she’s really cute.

Yes, she’s got a good face, but I can’t help but marvel at how polite she is.

Even now, her legs are tucked in nice and tight with her arms folded in her lap. Any Shogi player would be instantly taken with that perfect posture. That’s pretty rare among kids nowadays.

“But, how did you get inside? Wait, the door was unlocked, wasn’t it?”

“S-Sorry! I just …”

A young pro hangs around here; the door is usually unlocked so that anyone can drop in whenever they please. The only thing inside worth stealing would be my Shogi board. Trying to carry that thing out of here would stick out like a sore thumb too.

“And … I thought … Waiting outside might cause trouble for you …”

“Good point.”

Imagine what my neighbors would think if they saw some strange little girl standing outside my door. What a considerate girl! I already get warnings for “strange clicking sounds at all hours of the night” from neighbors …

“Anyway, must’ve been really hard, figuring out where I live?”

“Your address was written on the Thank You postcard you sent out to my family’s inn, Sensei.”

“Ahh, now that you mention it–.”

I remember sending cards to a lot of people after becoming Ryuo because Master told me to.

“Huh? In that case, your parents own that inn?”

“Yes! My name is Ai Hinatsuru, from the Hot Spring Inn: “Hinatsuru”! I’m in the third gra … ah, fourth grade this spring!”

“So … a third grader.”

“I’m nine! I’ll turn ten this year!”

Really, her age is surprising.

Manners like that and still only in single digits …

“That’s quite a trip, from your family’s Inn all the way here. You came by yourself?”

“Yes! I took the Thunderbird train.”

The Thunderbird, an express line that connects Osaka with the northern coast. If I remember right, it’s a straight shot from Hinatsuru to Osaka station. No need to change trains even once along the way.

Then it’s just one stop on the Kanjou Line from Osaka station to get here. Not that much of an adventurer … But still.

“You must have some really nice parents, letting you travel like this.”

“Y-Yes! They … are very … understanding …”

“They … what now?”

Suddenly, I get the feeling that she’s beating around the bush again...

Considering they lent out their facility for the title match, her parents must love Shogi. Maybe they really buy into that “Let your darling children travel” type of thinking.

“Yeah, but still. I would’ve liked a heads up that you are coming all this way. Nearly jumped out of my shoes when you showed up out of nowhere.”

“Um … I-I-I wrote a letter asking you to take me as an apprentice, but without any reply …”

“…”

I take a very awkward glance toward the mailbox on my front door. It’s practically bursting at the seams with envelopes and junk mail.

Emptying the thing out would be such a pain in the ass … The association always contacts me by email so …

“Y-you did? Sorry about that. Yeah.”

Well, in the end it doesn’t matter if this girl is lying or not.

I have no intention of making her my apprentice either way.

And I highly doubt that I, a teenager at heart, could properly raise one. I don’t have time to worry about anyone else. And I sure as hell don’t want to pee on the floor after losing to an apprentice.

I’ll find another way to keep my promise, but I have to get her to give up on this apprentice thing first.

“Now then.”

I take my Shogi board out from the closet and place it in front of Ai Hinatsuru.

“Th-this is a really nice board!”

“Be gentle with it, okay? I’m still paying off the loan.”

Together with the Shogi pieces, the whole thing cost about as much as a new car.

It’s about eight-and-a-half inches thick, plus the four legs holding it up, so it’s tall enough to hide almost half the grade school girl sitting on her ankles when put directly in front of her.

Now that Ai is physically intimidated, it’s about time to intimidate her mentally.

“I’m a professional Shogi player. Pros can only take on apprentices capable of becoming pros themselves one day.”

That’s not necessarily true, but she doesn’t need to know that now.

“So, I need to see if you have that much talent with my own eyes. Okay?”

That’s a pretense.

Sure, I may be only winning thirty percent of my matches and in the middle of an eleven-game skid, but I’d never lose to a grade schooler. It may be a little harsh, but I’ll beat her, making her cry and give up on the whole thing. That’s the plan.

“Since I need to know exactly what you can do, we’ll play without any handicap.”

“Sure! Ready when you are!!”

What’s this? I thought to myself.

Even under all this pressure, this girl sits up straight and replies with a beaming smile.

Her mettle and posture pass with flying colors.

The windows should be closed, but it feels like a soft breeze blew through the room just now.

Just by looking at how fluid her movements are, it’s pretty easy to guess about how much experience the girl has playing Shogi.

The little girl sitting here: Ai Hinatsuru’s dexterity is, “This there … And that one there!” … in a word, hapless.

With no sense of the proper etiquette, she’s just setting them as fast as she can. It’s probably just nerves, but she’s having trouble keeping the pieces inside the lines on the board. This match is in the bag.

Pieces in place, I say, “You may have the first move.”

“Okay! R-ready to start when you are!!”

“As am I.”

The match begins as we both lower our heads.

Now then, how does she play?

“Heep, haaa ………………………………… aa!”

Ai takes a deep breath and puckers her lips, concentrating with all her might and moves the fu (Pawn) in front of her hisha (Rook) one space forward.

“Ohh? A static style?”

There are two main styles of Shogi, the “Static Rook” and “Ranging Rook.”

In layman’s terms, the “static” style is for people who like to plan everything logically, step by step. The blood type “A” personality if you will. “Ranging” is for people who like to rely on their gut feelings, a type “B.” Sis and I are static, by the way. Our Master is too, so that’s probably why he’s pretty particular about it, much more so than his choice of restrooms.

So I respond by mirroring her move, moving the Pawn in front of my Rook one space forward.

Third move. In no time at all, Ai presses her finger onto the same piece, moving it another space forward with authority.

This is–––.

“… Double Wing Attack?”

During the seventh Ryuo title match, the one played at Ai’s family’s inn, I played the same style.

Both players lead with the Pawn in front of their Rook, the simplest and most aggressive pattern there is but furthest from standard strategy. It’s like both players are sitting ducks, throwing axes at each other.

That’s a Double Wing Attack.

So this elementary school girl is challenging the Ryuo to a contest of strength … Okay.

“How weak does she think I am …?”

The words come tumbling out of my mouth before I realize it as I move my own pawn another space forward.

Shogi is dialogue.

There’s a saying like that.

Shogi players aren’t just pushing pieces around. Once they reach a certain level, having a conversation over the board becomes second nature.

“I’m confident my strength is enough! Please don’t hold anything back!”

“Know your place, cheeky kid … All right then. I’ll play along. Bring it!”

Our past four moves went a little like that.

There is no standard strategy for Double Wing Attack. We’re already in uncharted territory.

As expected, I took a big lead in the early stages. Using subtle movements and a pro’s insight, I tear her front line to shreds and start advancing on her King.

“Ah … ugh …”

Ai, pinned down and groaning, is on the verge of tears.

Completely skipping over the middle stages, I move to finish this as quickly as possible. Happens all the time in Double Wing Attacks.

“That’s it.”

Getting a good handle on what my opponent is capable of, I try to think of the fastest way to put the nail in the coffin and position my pieces to go in a no-holds-barred overkill style. I drive her King all the way back to the last row with my heavy hitting pieces just to make sure victory is mine. Then, I hit the gin (Silver).

And of course, Ai raises her defenses against such an onslaught. She should.

But–––.

“…………… Here ……… Here ………………… Here ……”

“Huh?”

“… Here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here ………”

As soon as she saw my move, the girl about to cry suddenly had fire in her eyes.

“ Here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here,here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, hereherehereherehereherehereherehereherehereherehereherehereherehereherehereherehereherehereherehereherehere––––––.”

We’d been keeping a pretty good tempo until her hand froze in midair, nose floating just above the pieces on the board, her whole body ticking back and forth like a metronome and she starts whispering to herself.

–—Stop now of all times? No way …

Did she figure out my attack was coming in too strong? Then again, I highly doubt this girl has the skill to hold off a professional’s advance. This match is as good as over.

“Hereherehereherehereherehereherehere …………… Uh-huh!!”

Sitting up and more determined than ever, the tiny girl leans over the large Shogi board, reaches all the way out with her hand, and moves a piece into place. A sharp snap of wood on wood fills the room, echoing higher and higher.

“Huh?”

Sound dribbles out of my mouth the moment I see the move Ai chose to make. It wasn’t to shore up her defense.

“…?!”

It looked like a horrible move at first glance.

Answer an attack with an attack? That should blow up in her face.

It’s like she knew that my attack would come up just short, a slash that sent a chill down my spine.

“?! … That can’t be right!”

The more I read what’s on the board, the attack I thought would “never happen” felt more and more like a dagger aimed at my throat.

“Sacrificing the Knight to take the Silver and put me in check, eh? But if I retreat the King to 6-1 position, the Rook at 4-7 will take the Silver at 6-2 … That’s checkmate if the King is there?! And if the Gold goes in, she’d move the Bishop to 8-3 will take it and then put me in check at the same time?! W-what is this girl?”

How far ahead did she plan this out?!

I look up without even thinking and behold the girl seated across from me.

She doesn’t notice my staring eyes. Instead, she’s bent over like a sprinter in mid-race with her eyes glued to the board, body still ticking back and forth.

“……… Hereherehereherehereherehereherehere ……………”

Eyes racing back and forth over the board and no words, only sounds coming out of her mouth, I can tell that she’s playing out a vast number of scenarios and sequences in her mind at an incredible speed.

She’s transcended the board itself.

Thoughts like strengthening her defense and trying to win my favor haven’t even crossed her mind.

“This girl is!”

Ai Hinatsuru is trying to kill me!!

That thought sends a shiver down my spine.

I’m not scared of the idea that an elementary school girl might beat me. Just the opposite. It’s the joy a Shogi player who has spent years researching the true way to play feels when confronted with something completely new on a Shogi board.

And it’s the happiness a competitor feels when presented with a worthy challenge.

“So you know what you’re doing after all.”

I lick my lips, slip on my special match glasses, and go on the attack with everything I’ve got.

There’s no going back. I can’t go back.

Ai’s not going to retreat. A passion, an enthusiasm I didn’t think a cute girl like this was capable of forced my verbal jab in one ear and out the other.

“… Here, here, herehereherehereherehere–––Uh-huh!!”

The little assassin sits up and reaches out with her eyes open wide, firing her Bishop at my King like a cannonball. Of course, I return fire. It’s kill or be killed. It will be over the instant someone even thinks about defending.

A no-guard slugfest.

The wooden clicks get louder, each of us predicting faster and faster as we trade blows in a blood-soaked brawl.

I forgot that the person in front of me was a little girl in grade school at some point and crushed her heart with everything I had.

Hearing those words, I was dumbstruck.

How much stronger Ai was in the late game than I thought she’d ever be!

Above all I was dumbstruck by how much fun I had during the whole thing.

I haven’t had such a sweet and stimulating time since facing a top-top class pro in a Double Wing Attack in the Ryuo title match.

No one can play Shogi alone, obviously.

So a meikyoku, a match worth remembering, can never happen if either player is much stronger or much weaker than the other.

Both strategies have to clash at full force, both players keep the big picture in mind and continue making the best possible moves so that the victor is decided by the slimmest of margins and the defeated gracefully accepts their fate like a badge of honor.

That’s what a great match requires.

This match wasn’t one. It was too chaotic to qualify for that name.

However, no matter how highly skilled the players—even pros using the latest research—there is such a thing as a boring match of Shogi. A kind of match that cools the heart.

On the other hand, there are some matches that completely ignore the latest research and throw the standard style out the window to become a perverse variation of the game. That, along with crummy matches where both players make mistakes left and right, tend to get the audience fired up.

Just like words that remain unsaid, a style of Shogi that remains unplayed, no matter how much preparation has gone into it, can never inspire people.

Shogi matches that ignite the soul—where both players put their “hearts” into every move—have courage, fighting spirit, pride, but also fear, tenacity, will, passion, hope, despair and grit. They make the soul burn brighter and brighter.

And Ai’s Shogi reminded me what that feels like.

That Shogi could be this intense. That it was this much fun.

Losing became scary once I had the weight of Ryuo on my shoulders and started caring what was written on the Internet as well as what other people thought. For someone like me who avoided confrontation, choosing to play the safe way even against his own Master, it’s been ages since feeling this heat, since I enjoyed playing this much.

Numbed by eleven consecutive losses, my spirit is shaking, burning to the very core. Something is flickering in my chest, I can feel it.

“Uh, um …”

A nervous voice brings me out of my stunned train of thought at the end of the match.

“S- … Sensei, um …”

“Look here.”

“Huh?”

“What would you have done if I made this move?”

“Oh, well, um … this.”

Going back a few moves, we say what we were thinking at the time.

It’s a study method unique to Shogi called a “review session.”

Even pros don’t always make the best moves.

Time and endurance are limited, so the winner is decided by who made the least number of mistakes. We’re human after all.

“Shogi is a game where the one who made the last mistake loses.”

There’s a reason for this saying.

But we can relax during these review sessions, relive the match and see what the best move was without the pressure. We can pursue true Shogi without all the restrictions. It’s the most fun part of playing for me. A bit irritating after a loss though.

“… I see. You’re pretty strong.”

Confirming Ai’s ability to read the board, I’m impressed by her strength in the late game once again.

“Your early and mid-game strategy could use some work, but you have an excellent feel for the late game. You’ve also got a knack for choosing when and how to attack.”

“N-no, not really … um, thank you so much … Hehe♡”

“Do you do Double Wing Attacks often?”

“Often … well, actually, um …”

Ai shyly drops her head and quietly makes a shocking confession.

“This is … the only way I know how ………”

“Say what?!”

Blushing, Ai leans forward to hammer her point home even as I shriek in disbelief.

“I saw your title match in person and was amazed! So I started playing Shogi myself! I wanted to play like you, Sensei, so I copied your style.”

“Hold up! … What? So what you’re saying is …?”

Her proclamation throws me for a loop.

The only opening formation she knows is the Double Wing Attack? So her only starting move is to advance the Pawn in front of the Rook? She’s that new to Shogi? What if her opponent used a Ranging Rook style?

No, before that: she started playing after seeing my title match … right?

“So, then … you’ve only been playing for three months?”

“U-um … Yes. Sorry …”

She must think I’m scolding her, giving a dejected apology like that.

No, no, no, no, no. This is … almost headline news.

A grade school girl who started playing Shogi three months ago challenged the Ryuo to a match with no handicap is an incident in and of itself, but the more startling news is that a grade schooler (practically a beginner) with the ability to put the Ryuo against the ropes in the late game even exists.

“Um … Sensei?”

“Eh? Oh, what is it?”

“M-My … My test … um …”

Eyes getting wetter by the moment, she keeps looking up at me only able to say “um” over and over.

“Test?”

“To be … um, your apprentice …”

“Oh, right.”

That’s what this was. Her entrance test. That’s right, that’s right.

I was going to turn her down either way, and completely forgot about it.

“Hmmm. Let’s see …”

Pretend to think really hard, taking her as an apprentice or not didn’t really seem to matter much anymore.

I just wanted to keep playing Shogi with this girl.

“I still don’t know enough to make a decision. So how about another match for now?”

“P-Please!!”

Her face brightening in the blink of an eye, Ai cheerfully starts lining up pieces.

Time absolutely flew by from there, the two of us continued to play Shogi without stopping to eat anything.

Until dawn. All the way through the night.

Chop, chop. Slice, slice. Those noises woke me up.

“… That smell … miso soup?”

My confused and groggy mind can’t process the domestic aromas wafting into my nose.

Huh? Where … am I?

“…… Did I spend the night at Master’s place? Is that Keika in the kitchen ……?”

Just when I thought I was dreaming about my years of training, turns out that wasn’t it.

The bedroom ceiling of my two-bedroom apartment greets my eyes when I open them, the smartphone next my pillow tells me it’s almost noon.

“Oh yeah …… I played Shogi late into the night last night, didn’t I ……”

Playing into the wee morning hours, practically dawn, of course my opponent started nodding off at some point and I vaguely remember coming to bed.

And, that opponent was–.

“Ah! Master, good morning!”

One step out of my room and her greeting hits me like it was shot out of a cannon.

An elementary school girl wearing an apron is standing in the kitchen.

“……”

This is important, so it bears repeating.

Kitchen! Wearing an apron!! Elementary school girl!!! Standing there!!!!

“… Umm.”

“I’m Ai! Ai Hinatsuru! Your apprentice since yesterday!”

“Huh? Nah, I don’t remember ever saying anything like that—.”

“Breakfast is almost ready! Master, please take a bath while you wait!”

“A-a bath?”

The grade schooler pushes me down the hallway toward the bathroom where the tub has already been filled with hot water.

Living on my own, I only take showers anymore. This might be the first time I’ve ever taken it slow and enjoyed a bath at home. Plus—.

“Smells really good in here …”

“Yes! Because I brought Wakura bath salts from home. We use the same kind at our inn! It’ll energize you and make you feel really good too♪”

That’s right, her parents own an inn with a hot spring …

Calling it an “inn” might not do the place justice. I’ve got a feeling it’s more like a high-class hotel. I mean, I’m pretty sure someone said it won “Best in Japan” awards for years running and something was mentioned before we left about the emperor staying there for an informational meeting.

Hold up?

Wouldn’t that make her … royalty or something?

“Please put your clothes in this basket. I’ll wash them for you later. I’ll put a towel and some fresh clothes for you here, okay?”

“Ah, sure.”

And before I knew it, the grade schooler figured out where I keep my clothes and towels. This is clearly way out of the ordinary, but I’m too groggy for it to set in.

It’s like I’m back at the inn, the title match all over again! I think to myself while relaxing in an absolutely perfect hot bath. My morning surprises continued upon exiting the bathroom door.

“Master! Your food is ready!”

“Ah, sure.”

“I’ll set out the plates, okay?”

Feeling like royalty myself after taking a bath with the sun still high in the sky, I take a seat at the knee-high dining table in the tatami room and watch simple yet hot dishes land in front of me one after another. This couldn’t have been easy to put together. Her otherworldly household skills are jaw dropping.

Sitting on her heels like some highly-trained server at a traditional inn, she starts scooping rice into a bowl and says, “I need to say sorry. I used almost everything in the refrigerator without asking.”

“That’s fine by me …”

I take the bowl from her, still in awe of all the food lined up in front of me. It’s a feast.

“This is amazing. You made all this by yourself?”

“Yes! The refrigerator had lots of stuff in it, and I kept getting new ideas and made a lot of food.”

“What’s this black sauce here?”

“It’s seaweed! Seaweed boiled in soy sauce.”

“I don’t remember having any of that in the fridge.”

“I made it. Sheets of seaweed and seasoning were already there.”

“Say what?! You can make this stuff?!”

“With a frying pan, yes?”

“O-oh, I see …… I’ll, um, have some....”

“It’s really easy to make, so no need to worry.”

I keep my eyes glued on the grade schooler sitting on her heels, lowering her head in a slight bow as I reach for the food with my chopsticks.

Now then, how about the taste—.

“Whoa! This is delicious. You’re something else, kiddo?!”

“E-he-he♡.”

I compliment her and Ai makes this really happy, puppy-dog smile.

She’s nothing like the timid little thing she was yesterday.

This is probably how she normally is. You can tell what someone’s really like after playing Shogi with them. This girl is actually rather persistent about getting her way, not willing to make any compromises. On the attack, 100 percent. Then again, female Shogi players are pretty much all that way like Big Sis, and Big Sis, and Big Sis.

“Huh? Ai, aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“No, no! I shall serve you, Master! I’m your apprentice after all!”

“Don’t worry about that. Now come on, have a seat and eat with me. You’ve gotta be hungry!”

If she does any more for me, I’m the one who’s gonna feel awkward. And she’s not my apprentice.

“Okay … Um, I’ll eat with you then …”

“Good.”

Sitting down on the opposite side of the table, we start eating face to face.

“……”

“……”

… Something’s a bit odd.

Facing each other like this is kinda awkward … And no, nothing’s happening downstairs because I’m this close to being a grade schooler myself, okay? It’s all nerves, got it? You understand, right?

All Shogi players know what it’s like to be perfectly fine sitting across from the opposite gender around a board but still turn into a nervous wreck otherwise. Even if that person happens to be in elementary school …

“Um … Master? I was wondering, do you cook? There was a lot of food in the fridge.”

“Huh? Ohh. Not me, but Big Sis does …”

“Sister? Master, do you have an older sister?”

“Older sister … Meh. Something like that, yes.”

Saying that she’s “practicing for when she lives on her own,” Ginko comes to my place and tries (her best) to cook. Her cooking (or something resembling it) isn’t even fit for a dog, but she comes after me, brandishing my eight-and-a-half inch Shogi board over her head if I don’t eat it, so I end up trying to swallow. ‘Cause after all, my head would split open like a watermelon if she actually threw it at me. And I’m still paying off the loan.

“But enough about that … Didn’t you say you started playing Shogi three months ago? How did you pick it up so fast?”

“Oh, okay.”

Ai rests her hand on the table and straightens her posture.

“Before he died, grandpa... my grandfather really liked Shogi and kept a lot of books about it at my family’s inn. I read them to learn as much as I could. But I can’t understand when there are a lot of hard words.

“That’s all?”

“And I would solve Shogi puzzles between chores at home. We run an inn with a hot spring, so there’s always so much to do. So I spent most of my spare time solving those puzzles.”

Now I get it. Shogi puzzles, makes sense. That explains her strong late game.

It’s not like anyone who does Shogi puzzles will get good at the game. Some of the authors don’t actually play themselves. That being said, they might’ve been perfect for this girl.

“But I’m really impressed. Finding time to study Shogi between chores like that.”

You’d think that a kid would get scolded for playing Shogi in the middle of housework, but pros have a different way of looking at it. In our world, if you’ve got time to do schoolwork, you should be playing Shogi.

“E-he-he. I had a real hard time remembering the problems at first, but I can do it now!”

What? Remembering … the problems?

“… Hang on a sec. Are you memorizing them? Wouldn’t it be easier to carry books and copies with you?”

“Yes. I, um, used to do that but my mother found them.... But it’s okay because I don’t forget a puzzle once I memorize it. Mom can take away as many as she likes!”

“If, if you don’t mind me asking … How many do you memorize in one sitting?”

“Maybe thirty? Then again, only ten if they’re long ones.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa …

It was surprising enough that she was solving puzzles on a mental Shogi board, but memorizing thirty puzzles at once? To top it all off, she doesn’t forget a single one? What is this girl’s mind made of …?

“S … so what kind of puzzles? Like Three Move Check?!”

“This is one I just worked out.”

She goes to her backpack that’s sitting in the corner of the room and brings back an old book. Shogi Zukou is written on it.

“The last problem really gave me fits, couldn’t solve it no matter what I tried. But it finally clicked during the train ride here! It was really hard.”

“D … Did you …… Did you really … solve … this …?”

“611 moves, right?”

… That’s correct. She’s for real?

The Shogi Zukou is a collection of extremely difficult Shogi puzzles, kind of like brainteasers, written in the 1700s by a pro named Kanju Itou.

100 puzzles in all, each of which is considered a classic in its own right. But the last three—Naked King, Fog of War and Longevity—are far more difficult than the rest and have been praised as the best puzzles in history, their difficulty bordering on artistic. They’re far beyond a level that, after solving one, a grade schooler could say, “It was really hard. Period.”

Just for reference, this is a normal (Three Move Check) Shogi puzzle.

And this is the last problem in Shogi Zukou, called Longevity.

Like a really bad joke.

These are Shogi puzzles. Even that one …

And a grade schooler solved it, all 611 moves, without using a board …

“This book took me about two weeks to finish, but it was a lot of fun! I’d like to write one of these books of my own someday♪”

A cold chill ran down my spine just looking at that innocent grade schooler’s happy smile.

She’s …… not normal.

Her talent clearly isn’t something you see every day. It takes pro Shogi players a few months to work their way through Shogi Zukou. There used to be a time when solving Zukou and solving another really difficult book known as Shogi Musou were enough to be recognized as a pro.

And this girl with three months’ experience solved it in just two weeks while helping out at home ……

Ai gets a bit nervous watching me zone out in shock, absentmindedly mixing the seaweed paste into my rice and she timidly speaks up.

“Um … Master? Was two weeks … too much time …?”

The other way around.

“W-well … I’d have to say it’s quite an accomplishment for an amateur. But the average pro can solve these puzzles at a glance.”

“… I knew it.”

“Longevity here takes 611 moves, but it was created more than 200 years ago. Modern puzzles take a lot more than that to crack.”

“How many?”

“For starters, Micro-Cosmos takes 1,525 moves.”

“What?”

“1,525.”

“T-th … That’s crazy …!”

“All of us pros have figured it out.”

If I were Pinocchio, my nose would be past Abeno Harukas about now.

“Pro Shogi players are really amazing!”

Careful to avoid the grade schooler’s sparkling gaze of admiration, I ask a follow-up question.

“…… And? Have you done any other practice methods?”

“Let me think. Would playing online at school count?”

“Shogi online?”

“24 and Wars, games like that.”

Shogi Club 24 and Shogi Wars, eh? Pretty basic.

“I’d borrow smartphones or tablets from my friends and we’d play during recess. Then I’d think about our matches during class and figure out what moves I should have made.”

Oh, ho? Played Shogi on a tablet at school, did you?

Times have really changed … I don’t want to sound like a geezer, I’m a teenager after all, but it’s been a year since I left school. It’s all so nostalgic now …

“… The food was delicious.”

“Thank you so much! Oh! Would you like some tea?”

She takes dishes away while preparing hot tea. This girl thinks of everything.

After pouring tea into cups, like she’s been doing it for years, Ai quickly and efficiently washes the dishes before coming up to me and says, “Excuse me, Master. Um, would it be all right for me to take a bath now …?”

“Yeah, sure. Take your time … And I’m not your Master yet, you know?”

“I know, Master!!”

My shoulders slump, disheartened by the happy little voice echoing out from the bathroom.

Talent … Yeah, she’s got it.

All because she can learn how to “end” a Shogi match from doing all those puzzles.

This combination … I just saw it in a puzzle!

That’s useful in a seminar sort of way. If you can get to the point where your gut tells you where the opportunities are, then you can reach victory much faster than your opponent.

That’s strength in the endgame.

Whereas normal people can only get a feel for it with the puzzles, Ai can combine all of that knowledge and accurately recall each situation with that incredible memory of hers.

So, basically, that girl … gets stronger with every match she plays, with every puzzle she solves.

If someone were to ask me if she’d make it in the world of women’s Shogi I’d have to say, “Yeah, she would. Plain and simple.”

More specifically, she’d win titles if trained properly. I only know a few women with the kind of talent she has.

The icing on the cake—.

Only been playing for three months …

Ai’s nine right now.

A little too old for Shogi players aiming to be the best to start.

Most pro players knew the rules before starting elementary school and would begin their hardcore training right about now.

Ai’s way behind where my Big Sis, Ginko Sora—a two-title holder in the Women’s League—was at her age in terms of game knowledge.

Then again, Big Sis is a freak who knew the rules like the back of her hand when she was only two years old. I can’t deny that for Ai, growing this much in three months, means there’s a possibility she has more hidden potential than Big Sis. Women tend to start later in the pro Shogi world than men do anyway.

If someone asked me if I’d want to train her, I’d have to say, “Of course I’d want to.”

She has distinguished talent.

And her personality: her competitive nature and her will to win leave nothing to be desired. A mighty fine cook too. Judging by the humming noises coming from the tub, I bet she’s got a great singing voice as well.

Add in her angelic good looks, and she’s got all it takes to become the Shogi world’s idol in no time. Shogi might get a million new fans just because of her.

And, to put it bluntly: I wanna see what that kind of talent can do on a Shogi board.

… Just not as her Master.

That’s right.

How could I, the Kuzu Ryuo, who can’t even look after himself, take care of a grade schooler, a girl at that?

Taking her on as an apprentice is out of the question. For her sake, too.

So who do I leave her to …? Hmm, who would be good? Someone I know on the north coast—?

Just when that thought crossed my mind.

Ding dong♪

The doorbell goes off.

“Heeello? Who is it?”

“Me.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

Big … Sis …?!

“DAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Go! Run like the wind!!

I race to the front door and grasp the knob with both hands.

She’s got a spare key, so she’d come in with or without my permission. Heck, she’d come in if I weren’t home if she wanted to. Since she’s usually playing Shogi at all hours of the day, I’ve actually given up on telling her to stay out so I don’t care.

But not today!! Not when there’s a grade school girl in my tub!!

“W-Why’d you come all the way out here, Big Sis?! D-d-d-do you need to talk to me?!”

“Versus.”

“Was that todaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!?”

Yesterday, we talked about it before going home! I completely forgot! But so much has happened!! A grade school girl showed up!!

“Hurry up and open the door. It’s hot.”

Her angry voice makes my heart beat faster. Naniwa’s Snow White has really sensitive skin and hates being outside in the sun.

“Um, right now … I’m still … preparing ……”

“Say what?”

Great, now she’s angry and suspicious.

“Y-You know! I’ve been on a real skid recently, right!? Though I hate to admit it myself!”

“And?”

“And I thought I’d try out some new strategies for our versus today! So, um, it’s taking longer than I thought, doing this and that to get ready.”

“I don’t care if you want to try Cheerful Central Rook or the Rook Corner Exchange strategies. Why does that mean I have to wait outside?”

“Umm … Because they’re not ready …”

What am I supposed to say? Because there’s a nine-year-old girl in my tub!? And now she’s driving me into a corner—I’m already in check!

Closing and left and right, Big Sis says, “… Yaichi, are you taking a bath?”

She can probably hear the water running outside. The tub is right next to the entrance.

“Y-Yes, I am. Th-Th-That’s why! I can’t open the door!!”

If Big Sis saw some unknown grade schooler in the tub, she’d probably murder me before I could come up with an excuse. I’d either be bludgeoned with my eight-and-a-half inch Shogi board or have tons of pieces shoved into my mouth, eyes, nose, ears and up my butt before sinking to the bottom of the river ……

“Oh. You’re in the bath.”

“Y-Yeah …”

“That’s a relief.”

“Huh?”

“… I thought you hated me for a moment.”

“Big Sis …”

I highly doubt she’d be relieved to know I had a nine-year-old girl stay overnight and that she’s currently in the tub, but Big Sis can say the cutest things sometimes.

Then again … About half of what I said was true.

Going pro in October the year before last, once I fought my way out of Group 6 (the lowest ranking group in the Ryuo Tournament) and had gained fame by taking out established strong players one after another, I rose from the bottom all the way to the top of the Shogi world before I knew it.

Not only was I the youngest ever to claim a title at sixteen years and four months old, I was also the fastest title winner, winning it one year and two months after my pro debut. I went from 4-dan all the way to 7-dan thanks to participating in the Ryuo Tournament and I was promoted to 8-dan when I won. And, of course, I was the youngest and fastest to ever pull that off. Most pro Shogi players work their way up the ladder for thirty years before retiring at 7-dan. I surpassed all of them in a single year. A Ryuo Tournament dream come true. Cup noodles were Ryuo flavor. Even the noodles at the Yamagi Soba Noodles Restaurant across the road from the association headquarters tasted like Ryuo. Yay.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

Three months after becoming Ryuo, I haven’t won a single regulated match. That’s eleven in a row and counting. My winning percentage has fallen all the way to the thirties. The dream has become a nightmare.

You see, I finally figured it out. I only won the Ryuo tournament because I was weak.

“Yaichi …,” Big Sis was waiting while I reflected on my progress and how I could explain my need to develop new strategies.

There wasn’t much information on me at all since I’d only just turned pro, and no one expected me to win. So they didn’t take me seriously. Meanwhile, I was dissecting my opponents’ playing styles and coming up with all sorts of strategies. Ranking near the bottom let me try all sorts of uncool moves without worrying about anything. I ended up playing from behind all the time—probably pissed off a lot of my opponents because I refused to throw in the towel ……

But everything changed once I became Ryuo.

My playing style was thoroughly analyzed, making me a sitting duck. Everyone started going after my exposed weaknesses without a shred of mercy.

But that’s not all. I started getting a lot of attention, being on top of the Shogi world and all, and fans expected me to play a dignified classy style worthy of my title.

“So that’s why I need to develop new strategies. I need play like a Ryuo, play the perfect game that no one can criticize—.”

“Yaichi.”

“Yeah?”

“This losing skid isn’t because you’re weak. You aren’t weak at all. It’s that—.”

Just as Big Sis was about to say something.

“Master. Could you get me a towel?”

Ai popped out of the tub with amazing timing.

Water dripped from her wet hair and a smile was plastered on her face. She was stark naked. Growing up at a hot spring, it’s like she was saying, “I’ve got no problem going all natural♪”

Well, I’ve got a problem with it!

“Hey!? What the hell! Why’d you come out in the buff?!”

“Sorry (>_<)”

Like she forgot to bring a towel! Like some kind of off-handed comment. Freak out a bit! You’re naked, act like it!!

“…… Was that a girl’s voice?” Big Sis asked.

“N-no-no-no-no-no-not at all?! M-must be the TV?”

“You don’t have a TV, Yaichi.”

“Master? Is there someone outside?”

“Nope, no one at all!!”

I yell loud enough for Big Sis on the outside and Ai on the inside to hear me. Then—.

“……”

Rustling noises come from the other side of the door.

Oh no! Big Sis is getting out her spare key?!

“There’s nobody! I’m the only one in here!”

I scream with my hands braced against the lock and doorknob.

“Um, Master? What’re you doing there?” she asks, finding it strange that I’m hanging out by the front door.

She’s in her birthday suit.

“D-Don’t worry about that! Just please grab a towel and put some clothes on!”

“But the floor’ll get all wet.”

“That’s fine! It can be wet! Oh, once you get dressed grab your things and hide in the closet, okay!?”

“Huuh? Why should I hide?”

Click! Click! Click! WHAM!!

“Yaichi! Let go of the door!? The bath was a lie, wasn’t it!! Open up!!”

“EEEEEEEEK!!”

“Master? Is someone here for you?”

“No, well, you see.”

“……… Is it a girl?”

Her voice just dropped an octave. That’s … kinda scary.

“Master! Who is it!? What is she to you!? And look at me when you talk!!”

“I can’t! Because you’re buck naked!!”

“Buck naked!! There’s a naked girl in there!?”

The end is near.

“Look at me!” Ai yells and pulls at my arm, tripping me to the floor just as Big Sis opens the door–.

This happened. This is checkmate.

“Yaichi ……… Who’s this? This little girl ……?”

“Master!? Who is this other woman!?

I’d give up right here and now if we were playing Shogi, but there is no “give up” option or reset button in life, as unfortunate as it is. This game royally sucks.

I desperately try to explain, sitting on my heels in the tatami room (no floor cushion).

Big Sis says, “And?”

“And? Big Sis, are you really listening? I didn’t invite this girl inside, she just came in! Unannounced! By herself! From the north coast!”

“And?”

“You see, it’s like this! She’s the daughter of a family that hosts title matches at their inn, so I couldn’t just rudely kick her out because that would make the association look bad, yeah? So I let her stay here for the night, in a safe place.”

“And?”

“A-And you said it yourself, Big Sis. I needed someone to help me try out Cheerful Central Rook and Rook Corner Exchange, so–––.”

“So you thought you’d try out a little girl too?”

“I certainly did not!!”

Big Sis looks at me like utter garbage as I plead my case, like she’s one step away from smearing my good name.

“I never said I’d take her as an apprentice, but I don’t see anything wrong with teaching her how to play!”

“Ohh? When did you become so intent on spreading your knowledge, Yaichi?”

“W-Well, I feel it’s my responsibility now that I have a title …”

As for Ai, she’s sitting on her ankles behind me, trying to stay out of sight. And, yes, fully clothed.

“… Hmph.”

To make matters worse, she doesn’t seem scared of Big Sis at all. Actually, she’s glaring at her like some kind of rival. Grade schoolers, fearless to a fault …

“Yaichi.”

Big Sis calls my name and points her fan toward the corner of the room.

“Bring that eight-and-a-half-inch Shogi board over here.”

“Sure …”

“Turn it over.”

“Like this?”

I flipped the board on its head with the legs sticking up.

There’s a strange looking depression between the four legs underneath. I can’t tell what she’s getting at. Ai, hiding behind my back, curiously peaks over my shoulder to look at the back of the board.

“Yaichi, what do the legs and board look like to you?”

“The legs? Umm … Well, they look kind of like a berry or fruit …?”

“A kuchinashi berry.”

“Kuchi … nashi?”

“It means no making excuses in front of a Shogi board!”

My head droops as I bite my lip.

Ai coming to my room, staying the night and coming out of the bathtub butt naked were all beyond my control and I did nothing wrong … But making all these excuses really is unbecoming of a pro Shogi player. We’re not allowed to “wait.”

Sure, Big Sis wasn’t happy that Ai was here overnight and naked on her arrival, but seeing me try to talk my way around it made her angry enough to use the Shogi board to put me in my place.

Shogi teaches everything worth knowing …

“There’s something else. See that divot in the middle?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Know what it’s for?”

“That I do not.”

“It’s called a blood catcher. It’s built that way so the floor doesn’t get dirty when you behead a cheating opponent during a match. So you don’t have to worry about that as I slice off your head and put it in there.”

That statement makes my mind go blank.

“You … you’re joking … right?”

“There are knives in the kitchen, right?”

“Please say you’re jokingggggggg!!”

What is this woman!? She wants to cut off her younger brother’s head!? That’s terrifying!!

“Stop it al-rea-dy!”

Ai’s voice blurts out from behind me, stopping Big Sis as she stands up to go get a blade, “Now, I don’t know what you are to Master! But I think you don’t have the right to do that to him!!”

Big Sis glares at the opponent who appeared in front of her. The grade schooler’s arms open like an intimidating anteater. With a what-is-this-creature? kind of look on her face Big Sis slowly asks, “…… You don’t know who I am? Playing Shogi, you don’t know?”

“Not a clue!!”

No hesitation, none at all! Panicking, I start to explain, “A-Ai. This wonderful woman here is my senior apprentice, like big sister … You could say she’s a member of my family.”

“Big sister …?”

“And she holds two women’s Shogi titles, Queen and the Women’s Throne—.”

“Queen ……?”

“Yes, that’s right. She’s a very important person, got it?”

“I, I got it!”

Ai starts trembling and points her finger directly at Big Sis.

“You’re … one of those domm-egg-trixes, aren’t you!?”

In that moment, a laugh—like a blown-up paper bag just exploded—bursts out of my throat.

Big Sis strikes the side of my face with her fan. Then, without a single shred of light in her gray eyes, she leans in and quietly asks, “… What’s so funny?”

“N-Nothing! S-S … sorr-gah hahahahahahaha?! Ouch! Hey, stop! That hurts!! Stop hitting me with your faaaaaannn!!”

“I, I knew it! You are one of them!”

“No I ain’t, blockhead!!”

Big Sis roars at Ai. It’s rare for her to get this worked up in front of anyone other than me.

Ai shrunk back for a moment, afraid of that forceful display. But …, “Stop hitting Master! Abuse is bad! I’m against physical punishment!”

“I’m not punishing him.”

“Then what would you call this!?”

“A treat?”

That day Big Sis started talking like a dominatrix.

“It’s still a no-no! I came here to learn how to play Shogi from Master and to make him my Master!!”

“Shut up, brat.”

“I’m not a brat! I’ve got a name, Ai Hinatsuru!!”

“That right. Brat! Your voice is annoying, so just shut up, okay?”

Big Sis waves her fan around like she’s swatting flies.

“Mmhhh …!” Ai angrily puffs out her cheeks before suddenly flashing a grin. Then she looks up at Big Sis like the cutest little angel.

“Dara.”

“Huh?”

“Darabuchi.”

“… Hey, Yaichi. What’s Brat trying to say?”

“Beats me ……”

Maybe it’s something from her hometown in Ishikawa? I really have no idea.

Sighing to herself, Big Sis sits back down on the floor cushion.

That being a step in the right direction, it doesn’t mean her mood has improved or she’s going to let me off the hook.

It seems like Ai calling me Master really rubs her the wrong way. She’s been bending her fingers one by one each time it’s happened since we came in here, like she’s keeping track. I have a good eye for the little things.

“Oh, Ai. Can I have a word with you?”

“What is it, Master?”

“Can you please stop calling me Master?”

“Huh? Okay, then what should I call you?”

“… Come up with that yourself.”

Big Sis is getting ticked off at this grade schooler, so it’s up to me, panicked as I am, to defuse the situation.

“Sensei or Ryuo is just fine. Call me anything you like other than Master.”

“I like …? Hee-hee,” Ai grins, eyes sparkling with hands cupped against her cheeks. It’s the face of a kid in a candy store, standing in front of the counter saying, “There are so many, I couldn’t possibly choose one!”

It’s been a long time since the room was this quiet. So I reach for my cup and take a sip of tea. Big Sis opens her fan, unyielding written on the side, and she starts waving it at her face.

Finally, Ai looks up at me and says very cautiously, “O-Okay ……… Big Brother Yaichi♡”

Tea flies out of my nose.

“W-Why Big Brother of all things!?”

“Because I’ve always wanted a big brother!”

“… Fine. Master it is. Please call me Master.”

“So it’s okay!? Yay! Yay!”

Crick, crack.

Wondering what just happened, I turn to face the weird sound and … Big Sis snapped her fan in half. Unyielding has broken.

“…… I’m going.”

“Um, Big Sis? Going where ……?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Tossing the broken bamboo and paper across the tatami floor, Naniwa’s Snow White looked as though she were seeking revenge on the stepmother that fed her a poison apple as she declared, “Master’s house.”

“Yeah. Kousuke Kiyotaki 9-dan.”

I explain to Ai who my Master is while the three of us ride the train.

“He’s been to your family’s inn a few times. He came with me to the Ryuo title match as well.”

“Um … You’re the only one I really remember, Master …”

Sitting on my left, Ai’s shoulders sink apologetically. Big Sis is sitting on my right, fanning herself with her (spare) fan while gazing at the advertisements hanging from the ceiling and looking very disinterested. She showed her face at my title match too, for what it’s worth.

“Master’s Master …… What should I call him?”

“Hmm …… Grand Master, maybe?”

“Kiyotaki-sensei is good enough. Don’t forget, Brat, Yaichi ain’t your Master.”

“…… Darabuchi.”

“Would you just tell me what that means already? I doubt it’s a compliment.”

I’d rather not be sitting in the eye of the storm.

“But, Big Sis. Taking her to Master’s house would mean—.”

“… We can’t exactly throw a grade schooler out on the street, now can we?”

She doesn’t sound happy about it, but she seems to have Ai’s best interest in mind. Probably admires her guts, coming all the way here from the north coast by herself. Big Sis has always liked naturally strong people, people with spirit.

I agree that it’s best to let Master settle this. However, someone else disagreed.

“Master …? What’s she talking about ……?”

“Well, basically, we’ll ask my Master to take you under his wing in my place—.”

“N-no, no! I don’t want that! I want Master as my Master!! Master, you said I could call you Master, didn’t you Master!?”

“Master this, Master that, just shut up, Brat! How can you can keep track of who’s who!?”

This war of words went back and forth all the way to Master’s front door. It was just one train station, so we got there in no time.

An old, traditional style Japanese house doubles as Master Kiyotaki’s home and Shogi classroom.

“We’re home!” Big Sis and I say in a loud voice as we step inside.

We always say “I’m home” rather than ringing the doorbell and announcing ourselves when we come here. Master was kind enough to insist on that.

The two of us lived here for about ten years, training every day as “live-in apprentices.”

I’ve spent more time in this house than at my parents’, so this place is special for me, and for Big Sis too.

“Oh, hello. Welcome back.”

Sticking her head out of the kitchen and greeting us like nothing has changed is my Master’s daughter, Keika.

A beautiful woman in her mid-twenties, Keika is kind and gentle, an amazing cook, and damn pretty to boot. Very well endowed too, but she keeps them under wraps. She’s a goddess to me, one to whom I declared when I was a kid, “I’m gonna marry you when I grow up!” more times than I can count. And I often ended up getting a swift kick from Big Sis as a result. The two of us always vied for her attention.

“I’m back, Keika!”

“Nice to see you, Yaichi. Sorry about what my father put you through yesterday.”

“I hate to say this, Keika, but he needs to be potty trained before going outside …”

“I’ve got him on a new regimen, don’t worry. It’s nice to see you too, Ginko.”

“…… Thanks.”

One smile from Keika and Big Sis rubs her face on her shoulder like a cute little kitten claiming her territory. Goddess.

“And a warm hello to you too, young lady. Please make yourself at home.”

“Th-Thank you! Please pardon the intrusion!!”

Ai gives a deep, sharp bow like a shrimp. Big Sis’s reaction was out of left field, but Ai goes along with Keika’s warm, embracing kindness right away. Goddess!

“…… Master is?”

“By the phone, I think. He’s been talking to somebody for a while now—.”

“Ginko, Yaichi. You came home.”

Master Kiyotaki appeared, the floor thumping beneath his feet. He was looking a little rough.

One look at Ai, and he said, “Alright,” with a nod before Big Sis or I could say a word.

“Great timing. Bring her with you and join me in the back. Keika, get dinner ready. We’ll all chow down in the back tonight.”

“Sure, sure.”

Well, things are moving right along.

“…… What’s going on?”

“What is going on?”

Big Sis and I exchange glances and urge the nervous, trembling Ai forward to follow Master.

We sit around a small table.

“You are Ai Hinatsuru, yes?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Do you remember me? We’ve met before.”

“Um … Was it, at the Ryuo title match …?”

“Yes, but we met a long, long time before that.”

“Huh?”

“You must’ve been two, maybe? Met you at a title match hosted by Hinatsuru. Back then, I got to see you as a little tyke.”

“Oh … I um, I see ……”

Looks like Ai doesn’t remember a thing, curling up into a frightened ball like that. Well, she was two, so I can hardly blame her. Actually, it’d be scary if she did remember. It’d be unnatural, like a Big Sis playing Shogi as a two-year-old.

“I also attended your grandfather’s funeral. Now then—.”

Master straightens his back and says, “Ai. I don’t care how much you want to play Shogi, runnin’ away from home is never the answer.”

Say what!? She ran away from home!?

“…………”

Ai’s face goes pale and she looks away. Her little hands are balled into shaking fists …… Well, looks like that’s exactly what happened.

“Yaichi. What did she tell you?”

“Haaa … That her parents were very understanding.”

“And you believed that crap? How stupid are you? Brain about to explode?”

Of course, Big Sis lets me have it right away, but now that I think about it, no parent on earth would ever send their nine-year-old daughter to live with a man. And even if they did, they would’ve contacted the association first.

“And, seriously, Brat had a school backpack with her. Shouldn’t that tip you off?”

…… Her choice of words too.

“Elementary schools finished up classes yesterday, meaning they’re on spring break. Sounds like Ai came straight down here without going home. Her parents are saying that she’s been planning this for some time, keeping a change of clothes and whatnot at school … This true?”

“……”

Nod. Ai bobs her head in resignation.

“But why did the association call here?”

“Cause Ai’s parents knew that she’s been strangely hooked on Shogi since the Ryuo title match. So, they had a hunch … And there you go.”

“But Yaichi’s of all places? Ai, you sure know how to pick ’em.” Master chuckles to himself, saying these things out loud.

I don’t think this is a laughing matter at all ……

“Ai. Why didn’t you talk to your parents first?”

“……… Because I knew they’d definitely say no …”

“They wouldn’t let you practice Shogi? Or they wouldn’t let you come to Osaka?”

“……… Both ……”

Ai said she was learning how to play between chores.

While her grandfather loved Shogi, I guess her parents didn’t feel the same way. Did she feel like she couldn’t let them see her playing so much that running away from home was her only option? I can relate, if that’s the case. People like us can’t live without Shogi.

“Master.”

I straighten my back and explain everything that led up to this point. “This girl … Ai’s got real talent. I’d like nothing more than for her to continue playing if possible. Could you speak with her parents on my behalf? If there’s anything I can do, just say the word. I have a promise to keep ……”

“Let’s seeee. Could drop the Kanazawa branch a line and see if a school up there would take her—.”

“No, no, no!!” Ai screamed, her face turning bright red.

“I, I …… I, I want to be Yaichi Kuzuryu’s apprentice!! No one else!!”

“…… What makes this so special?”

Big Sis snatches my ear, pulls me over, and calls me this.

Ai answers without missing a beat, “Because he was so cool!!”

“Did you hit your head or something?”

Hey, Ginko, be nice.

“At the Ryuo title match, watching Shogi for the first time …… Seeing him get so absorbed, fighting so hard he could barely stand … So majestic sitting in front of the board, moving one piece after another, fanning himself, going in and out of the hallway, everything! Everything about him was so cool!!” Ai says, making my whole body burn with embarrassment.

“That’s why I wanted to play Shogi! To become like Master … It was the first time I’d ever wanted to be a professional Shogi player, and I’d never wanted anything so bad before ……!”

Ai grabs hold of her shirt, pulling and scratching at the collar.

I’m …… embarrassed but happy at the same time. Really happy.

That she likes Shogi this much because of me, flawed as I am, seeing my match lit this fire.

I’m also surprised. Ai’s interest in Shogi sounds an awful lot like ……

“Okay, so you want to turn pro then?”

Big Sis’s gray eyes bore into Ai’s.

“……?”

Ai makes a whaddat? kind of face. Like a marshmallow.

“You want to be like Yaichi, yes? That means you want to become a pro Shogi player and win titles and all that, yes? Or do you want to enter the Women’s League? Which is it?”

“???”

“Hold up … Don’t tell me you don’t know the difference between the two …?”

“O-Of course I do! I know that much!”

That’s exactly what a clueless kid would say.

“Um …… Wo-women’s League? It’s for women, and pro Shogi players are all men? Yeah?”

“Master.”

Big Sis cuts off Ai’s rambling.

“Brat isn’t interested in playing Shogi, she’s just a grade school girl aspiring to be her idol. She’d never make it through training. There’s no need to take her as an apprentice. You should send her home.”

“Is aspiration not enough?”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Big Sis and I are taken aback by Master’s unexpected words. Even Ai is stunned.

Master Kiyotaki looks at us with beady little eyes, clearly enjoying the moment, and says, “Yaichi. Tell Ai why you became my apprentice in the first place.”

“Is … Is now the right time to tell?”

“What time would be better?”

“……”

“Master ……?”

He’s pressing and Ai is staring right at me, so I decide to just go ahead and say it.

“…… Once I faced Master, Kousuke Kiyotaki-sensei, in a match, I aspired to be like him. Master was a judge at a regional tournament and he accepted my request to play in a small room at the inn where the tournament was taking place. That was our first match. It was a great honor. After that there were exhibition matches where we played and I became his apprentice.”

Ai blushes, her eyes going wide.

“You did …?

“Well … yeah.”

It’s a bit embarrassing so I’d rather not talk about it but ……

“Long story short, my father and big brother taught me how to play Shogi, and I got good enough to play in tournaments—.”

Whenever I went against Master in a match, I was blown away by his strength.

“I was six at the time, but I remember everything. Back in those days, I was going to Shogi classrooms and tournaments and absolutely destroying the competition. Everyone was calling me a prodigy and it went to my head. I thought I could take on a pro and win without a handicap. How about two down? he offered. But we settled on him playing without a Rook …”

“Did you lose really bad ……?”

“No. By just one move.”

“So it was a really close game!? You’re amazing, Master!”

“It wasn’t like that,” I say with a grimace and explain exactly what happened that day.

“He let me lose by one turn. All so that I wouldn’t get depressed after getting my butt handed to me.”

But losing that way was even more of shock than an ass whooping.

It’s much more difficult to win by a hair on purpose than steamroll an opponent. Not only did he accurately predict my every move, he acted like we were neck and neck until the very end. Only a real pro can pull that off.

Even a naïve kid like me could tell that Master’s style was so much more profound than any game I’d ever played. The matches in classrooms and at amateur tournaments weren’t anywhere near this exciting or inspiring, not even close.

One match stole my whole heart. I would’ve given anything to be like this person.

“After that …… After playing against him in that first match, participating in tournaments was nothing compared to playing against Master in exhibition matches.”

I would go anywhere in Japan if I heard that a city was hosting a Shogi tournament.

“I’d look for Master on arrival and instantly challenge him to an exhibition match the moment I found him. But I begrudgingly played in the tournament if he wasn’t there. Can’t tell you how many times surprised people called me a weird kid.”

“That kind of passion was really surprising, but it also made me really happy.”

Master chuckles again, looking a little embarrassed this time.

“So, yeah. I invited him. Wanna play Shogi at my place?”

“And that’s how I got to be his apprentice.”

I was six years old at the time. Just about to start elementary school.

I had no concept of what a pro was. I was just so happy for the chance to be so close to my idol, Kiyotaki-sensei, and playing Shogi was so much fun that I went right along with it.

It’s amazing how similar I was to Ai, who ran away from home with only aspiration and a love for Shogi as her guide, without knowing jack squat about the Shogi world.

Shocking as it is, I can relate to how she feels. Almost a little too much.

“Nearly jumped out of my socks that day,” said Keika as she came into the room to set the table for dinner. “My father leaves to be a judge at a Shogi tournament and comes home with a little boy and tells me, ‘He’ll be living with us starting today.’ And don’t forget, this was two weeks after he brought home a little girl!”

“Sorry about that ……”

I immediately bow my head. As for the girl who became his apprentice two weeks before me, she’s making a face like a cat that refuses to be friendly no matter how many treats you give her.

While my motivation to become an apprentice was all “aspiration,” Big Sis’s was “revenge.”

She lost to him in an exhibition match back when she was four and found Master’s address on the Internet so she could come here every day and challenge him to a rematch. She wasn’t tall enough to reach the train station ticket machine at the time, so the attendant had to bring out a stool for her every day. Her story has lived on as part of that station’s lore.

Of course, letting things continue like that was too dangerous, so Master talked with her parents and he took her under his wing.

“I made Yaichi my apprentice because I thought Ginko was looking real lonely. Just as I’d expected, the two hit it off right away and played Shogi all day every day from then on.”

Hitting it off wouldn’t be the way I’d describe the day I met the dev—, I mean Big Sis. There’s a mountain of objections I’d like to make, but I keep them in by the skin of my teeth.

“And now he’s a pro with his own title and bringing an apprentice home …… It all went by so fast,” Master says fondly while looking at the ceiling. He’s got tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Yaichi, I’ll have a word with her parents myself. Take Ai as your apprentice and train her for the Practice League Exam.”

Practice League … So Master wants Ai to enter the Women’s League?

Wait, the real problem here is—.

“You want her to be my apprentice!? Not yours!?”

“Yep. A live-in at that.”

“Ugh—.”

“What’s a live-in?”

“An apprentice who lives with their Master to train.”

Master answers Ai’s question while I’m too shocked to say a word.

“Ai, can you live away from home, live with Yaichi? At your age, it’ll be pretty tough!”

“I can!! I-I’d like nothing more than that!!”

“Ohh, that’s the spirit. Hang in there, kiddo.”

“I will!!”

“Ho-hold up a minute, please!” I frantically cut into the conversation these two are having to decide my fate.

“I’m still sixteen years old! A teenager with an apprentice!? It’s too early, no matter how you look at it! And I’m only in my second year as a pro. Bringing in an apprentice to live with a guy living on his own would be—.”

“Having a title proves you have the skill. There are pros who took apprentices in their first year too.”

Master didn’t budge.

“Ai came all the way to your place because she admires you! It’s your duty as a pro Shogi player to recognize that kind of commitment. What else could you do? Kick this cute, starry-eyed girl out onto the streets of Osaka all by her lonesome? Only the Kuzu Ryuo would do such a thing.”

“I’d be called trash a heck of a lot more for taking a grade school girl as my apprentice! …… And I’ve lost eleven matches straight …… I’m in no position to take care of a kid ……”

“Yaichi. You know what Gratitude for a Master is?”

“Beating them in a match, right? Like I did yesterday.”

“That wasn’t a league match, so it doesn’t count.”

Master didn’t budge.

“Real Gratitude isn’t beating your Master. That’s not a way to show gratitude or anything. What a Master really wants for their apprentice is to win a title and take on an apprentice of their own.”

“……! Take an apprentice ……”

The Master–apprentice relationship in the Shogi world is strange. The Master gets nothing from their apprentice. Quite the opposite. Raising an apprentice means they have to sacrifice their own time to train a future opponent.

There’s only one reason why pro Shogi players engage in this risky behavior … Because someone else took the time to train them.

So if Master is serious about me taking an apprentice, I can’t refuse. And of course, Big Sis has no room to object. His words aren’t binding by any means, but they’re far stronger than any rules or regulations.

“………”

I take another look at the girl who might become my apprentice—all to determine whether it was her admiration for me and her love of the game that drove her to run away from home, to determine whether her words and determination are the real deal.

In that moment, I caught a glimpse of the wrinkles in her skirt.

“……… Well, all right. I’ll apply for her membership to the Practice League as my apprentice.”

“!!”

Ai’s face lit up, but Big Sis is staring daggers at my neck like you wouldn’t believe.

“But only during spring vacation. I will train her as a live-in apprentice during the break, but she either goes home or I bring her here to live with you afterward. My point is, she will not permanently live with me. Is that clear!?”

“So, a live-in apprentice with a stipulation is it?”

“Master …… I thought you’d been spending a lot of time on your phone recently, but ……”

“It’s because I don’t make him pay for it,” Keika whispers into my ear, but that’s not what’s wrong with this picture.

“So, then …… That means I have a grand apprentice …… Keika! We’re celebrating tonight! Cook up the red rice!”

“Tonight’s dinner is okonomiyaki.”

Keika ignores her father’s words with incredible grace and fires up the hot plate with all the ingredients ready to go.

“I see …,” said Master, a little disappointed. “Then again, we’ve got a little one with us tonight, so okonomiyaki might be better after all,” he added right away in his usual tone. Pro Shogi players don’t get hung up on things for long.

“Isn’t this great, Ai. We’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Keika lets out a long sigh even as she smiles, spreading bacon and egg out over the hot plate.

“Now that I think about it, Ginko and I are aunts now …… Sounds weird just saying it ……”

“Aunts?”

“Master–apprentice relationships are like a family. The Master is like a parent for their apprentices. Fellow apprentices are brothers and sisters. This is why I call Ginko ‘Big Sis’ while Keika is like my little sister, making you their niece, Ai.”

“…… When did I say Brat could join us?”

Big Sis is staring at me through the steam rising off the hot plate, her face wavering back and forth. Scary as hell.

“So Ai, what’d ya think of real Osakan flavor?”

“It’ss desficiousss!”

Says Ai, trying to chew the hot okonomiyaki and speak at the same time, a bit of the sauce on her smiling cheeks. Cute as hell.

Meanwhile, Big Sis is silently chewing her own okonomiyaki that’s drenched in dark sauce …… It’s normal for her to pour on the stuff until it’s black as night, but it’s a lot today, even for her. Ominous as hell ……

Being stuck between these two polar opposites is making me a nervous wreck. Without much of an appetite, I just munch on the dried bonito flakes for now. Things are really salty.

Keika starts cooking round two and says, “I take it everyone’s staying here tonight? Take turns in the bath once we’re finished here.”

“I, um, I’ve got a match tomorrow so ……”

“You’ll just lose anyway. Congrats on your twelfth straight loss. Hurry up and die.”

“Master won’t lose! Auntie Ginko should be quiet!”

“Who you calling Auntie, Brat!?”

“Ai, you can call me grandpa any time, okay?”

What happens now? I’ve got no clue …

“It’s … I don’t know. Easy to find!”

“Probably because of the giant letters spelling it out on the side of the wall. Sho gi kai kan.”

The five-story building is a two-minute walk from Fukushima Station, just one stop down from Osaka Station on the Kanjou line.

It’s the Kansai branch headquarters of the Japan Shogi Association, Kansai Shogi Kaikan—or just the association for short.

Today I’m going to register Ai for the Practice League test before my official match.

Big Sis got pissed and went home after dinner yesterday, but Ai and I spent the night at Master’s place. Then, after eating a warm breakfast Keika made for us, we stopped at my place to change clothes before coming here.

“Is-is it really okay for anyone to go inside?”

“The first floor’s all restaurants and stores, and the classroom is on the second, so yeah. It’s from the third floor on up that people need clearance. Now, let’s head in.”

“Y– … Yes!”

Ai takes a brave step forward as I give her a verbal push.

I open the door.

And there’s Big Sis standing right there.

“……”

“……”

“……”

Man, this is awkward.

“…… Loli King.”

She quietly spits into my ear on her way past my shoulder before opening her parasol and heading off somewhere without another word. Was that supposed to be a new title …?

Big Sis knows I only took Ai as my apprentice (temp.) because Master told me to, but Naniwa’s Snow White was glaring ice cold daggers at us. I should start calling her “Queen Elsa” at this point.

It’s almost as if Master’s seal of approval being stamped on the whole thing is what really got under her skin.

Ai tilts her head as the two of us watch Big Sis disappear into the busy morning streets.

“… What was Auntie doing here?”

“Probably signing autographs and fans. She’s a popular player after all … And, yeah, never call her Auntie to her face, okay?”

’Cause it’s my life that’s on the line.

Once we make it further inside, Ai squeals with glee at the sight of all the stores lining the right side of the hallway.

“Oh, wow! Are all of these Shogi books?!”

One shop at the corner of the floor has mountains of Shogi books and goods on display. Signed books are just the beginning: they’ve got anything you could ever want. They invite you to please stop in and have a look for yourself.

“Whoa … This board and pieces are so fancy … No way?! One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand … one million yen?! Wow! Wow!” she yells, pressing her forehead against the display case and absolutely beside herself.

She’s like the Alps Boy who found a trumpet in the shop window. The lady at the register smiles with her eyes as if watching something precious.

But what really got Ai excited at the shop was–––.

“Master! Master! They have fans!”

“Of course they do.”

Fans autographed by popular pros are some of their best sellers. It’s because you feel that much stronger just by having one in your hand!

“Fhuuah … So many hard words (>-<),” says Ai as she opens up one of the sample fans to read it. There must be quite a few characters that a third grader can’t quite comprehend just yet because she’s tilting her head and mumbling, “Huh? Huh? How do you read this? Ipposenkin?”

“That’s ippu senkin. It means there are times that one Pawn is more valuable than one thousand pieces of Gold. It’s a Shogi saying.”

“And this one? Tobu …?”

“Hishou actually. The writer is probably telling people to grow as if determined to fly in the sky.”

“This one?”

“Konton.”

“And that means …?”

“Huh? … Like really messed up chaos, I guess.”

“Why write that?”

“… Beats me.”

Since everyone writes something different, sometimes only the writer knows what it really means. My Master’s fan says, “My prime starts tomorrow.” Frickin’ awesome!

“… Not this … That’s not it …”

“What’re you looking for?”

“All pros have their own signed fans, right?”

“Nah, just the popular ones.”

“Popular?”

“Legendary players from the past, A–classers … And pros with titles usually make autographed fans.”

“Ahhh …!” Ai’s face lights up like fireworks.

“So you have one, right Master?!”

“Hm? Uh, yeah …”

I carefully hide the sample fan with my name on it behind the shelf so Ai can’t see.

My handwriting is a bit too unique, so:

“Kuzu Ryuo writes like trash too lol …”

“He’ll never live down the shame …”

“I’d give back the title in his shoes.”

The net had a field day. Like hell I’d let Ai see a premium fan like that.

… Can you blame me? I never thought I’d win a title …… Otherwise, I’d have worked on my penmanship …

“Hm … That’s weird. I’ve seen them here before … Ah! I bet they’re sold out!”

“I knew it, Master! You’re so popular!!”

“Hahaha. Well, shall we head up?”

I lead her away from the shop with a dry laugh.

I gotta remember to put the fan back later …

Ai starts pulling at my sleeve. The second letters spelling out Shogi Doujo come into view.

“!! !!”

Ai’s looking at me with a burgeoning expectation.

I force a smile and say, “We’ve got to get you registered for the test in the upstairs office first. I want to introduce you to the staff too.”

“But——!”

“You’ll be playing before you know it.”

She starts mumbling to herself as if the anticipation is killing her while I steer her away from the door with my hand on her back.

I was the same way back then … I bask in nostalgia as we arrive on the third floor.

This is where the association’s office is, and it’s full of staff members.

“Ex-cuse us.”

“Oh, Yaichi … I mean Kuzuryu-sensei. Good morning.”

One of the guys I know pretty well—then again, I’ve been coming here for ten years so I know everybody, but one of the veterans of the group comes forward to help us.

He used to scold me a lot back when I was a kid, sort of like a teacher at school. So it feels a little weird for him to address me as Sensei since I became a pro.

The staff is hard at work making the association run smoothly. They’re even more important than pro Shogi players in a way.

No one would really notice if five or ten of us weren’t here, but matches couldn’t even get started if even one of them were gone.

I smile as wide as my lips will go and introduce Ai.

“I’m here today to set everything up for this girl here … Has any word come in?”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard, I’ve heard.”

His line of sight locks in on Ai, hiding at my side, and says, “Sora-sensei just informed us: a pervert holding an elementary school girl captive at home is on his way here and she told us to contact the police on sight.”

Damn it Ginko …

“N-not Big Sis too! Me, kidnap a grade schooler? You know I’d never do that, right?”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.”

Ha-ha-ha. We share a good laugh right away.

“Well then, who is this cute young lady?”

“I’m his live-in apprentice!” says Ai bubbling over with pride before I can answer. My brain feels like it’s going to explode.

“HUH?!”

Every staff member on the floor raises their voice in unison.

Everyone who was pretending not to listen heard every word … Hey, hey, why is she reaching for the phone? What’s with their reaction? This some kind of gag?

“A, um … live-in apprentice, Kuzuryu-sensei? In this day and age? A grade school girl?”

“No, what? Ah, umm …”

There’s no choice but to power through at this point. So I make a calm, composed, “Yes she is. Is that a problem?” kind of face and nod. “Yes. Per my Master’s instruction.”

“O-Oh, I see … The Kiyotaki line …”

The fact that Master took Big Sis and I as live-in apprentices when we were really young is pretty well known. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that, as someone in his line, I would take on a young live-in apprentice of my own. Nothing strange or unnatural about it at all!

“And look here, I’ve got a letter from my Master as well.”

“That you do …”

“And she’s only staying with me until the Practice League test is over.”

I explain that Ai is from the north coast, that she wants to enter the Practice League in hopes of one day joining the Women’s League, and that my Master has spoken with her parents, one after the other, while confirming the test date.

“And you know, it’s spring break right now, yes? It’d be better for her to focus on studying here in Osaka. Then she’ll commute from her home on the north coast once she’s passed the test.”

“Oh, if that’s how it is then–––.”

Just then I saw a glimmer of recognition pass across his face in that moment.

“What?! I want to live with you from now on, Master!”

Whispers! Another uneasy aura sweeps through the office. Me, I’m panicking.

“Wait, Ai. Miss Ai. Listen …”

“I’ll do anything you ask! I’ll do the cooking! Cleaning and laundry too! A-and other things … if that’s what Master wants …”

Whisper, whisper, whisper …

“Heeeeeeey! Do you want everyone to get the wrong idea?! Never once have I said anything like that?! Right?!”

“B-But … What about the try out a little girl …?”

“Kuzuryu-sensei …”

“No, no, not at all! That was Big Sis trying to embarrass me!!”

I desperately try to explain, as if my life depended on it. I didn’t take on a grade schooler as a live-in apprentice because I wanted to!! That’s the truth!!

“Look, I like older women like Keika! I’ve no interest in younger girls whatsoever! You know that, right?! How long have we known each other?!”

“………… All right. I trust you, Sensei.”

It looks like he finally understands the situation. Trust built up over a decade has won the day. After all, the most important thing to pro Shogi players is trust.

The two of us were smiling right after that, catching up on recent news while getting the apprentice registration and Practice League test application squared away. I worked really hard on the paperwork but couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing his best not to look me in the eye behind that glued-on smile he wore from start to finish.

Once everything was done and we were just about to leave the office, he gave me a serious look, a look more serious than I’ve ever seen in the ten-plus years I’ve known him. “Kuzuryu-sensei,” he said.

“Yes?”

“…… Everything is on the level, right?”

He doesn’t trust me at all.

“Haa … I was so nervous—.”

“You and me both …”

Knowing I was one wrong step away from becoming a social outcast really had me on edge. I’m not entirely sure there wasn’t a misstep somewhere.

I’ve already gone on the offensive, destroyed weird rumors before they spread. Now how will things play out …?

Well, there’s really no point in worrying about that now.

Playing Shogi is to think ahead, but pros misread each other all the time. Therefore, it always ends up being a read and react kind of philosophy in the end: so take care when you can and the rest will work itself out.

“Oh, and Master.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the Practice League?”

My foot nearly misses the next stair step.

“Seriously, you … We explained it to you in and out, IN AND OUT, last night, didn’t we?”

“Uh, ummm ………… The okonomiyaki was just so good that … that …”

Ai makes her excuse, scratching her fingernails across the stairwell railing. I can’t deny that Keika’s okonomiyaki is delicious. This girl ate three of them by herself. What does she think they are: pancakes?

“… The Practice League is like a school for people who want to join the Women’s League. You play against other people wanting to become pros and your rank goes up if you win.”

“Win the fight and your rank goes up … It’s just like a game!”

“Shogi is a game, you know.”

An advanced board game that has dominated a certain world for over a thousand years: that’s SHOGI.

“Everyone starts out in F-Class. You go up to E2, E1, D2, D1 and C2 from there. Anyone with a C1 ranking has the right to join the Women’s League.”

“If I join the Women’s League, will Shogi be my job like it is for you, Master?”

“They don’t have as many matches as pros do, but yeah.”

“What’s the difference between pros and Women’s League Players?”

“That’s complicated, so I’ll save that explanation for later.”

I point my thumb toward the second floor classroom entrance and say, “I’m sure that’s more interesting right now, yes?”

“Yep!!”

Then, I open the classroom door and walk inside with my apprentice (temp.).

The classroom is full of kids.

Usually it’s overflowing with senior citizens at this hour, but since spring break started yesterday for all the public schools, all the young boys and girls with a taste for Shogi come here in the morning on weekdays too. It’s nice to hear all those pieces clacking away.

From what I can see, most of these kids are in elementary school or younger. Maybe they’re part of a children’s class?

“I’d like to make a Match Card for her–––,” I say to the classroom staff member sitting behind the counter and start to introduce Ai.

However.

Every single child in the room turned to face me at once before I could finish and say, “D—.”

D?

“Sign this!”

“Sign please!”

“Can I have your autograph?!”

“Dragkin, play me!”

The children rush me. Not a single one of them calls me Ryuo. They pull, bump, nudge, push, kick. The kids show no restraint or respect as they trample over me, calling me whatever they please.

Ai is such a good kid, I forgot that this is how grade schoolers usually are. But please, stop with the Dragkin already!

“All right, line up! One line here … No, make three lines!!”

I get them to line up on one side of the long table and pull Ai around to the other. Then I put three Shogi boards on top of the table.

One person against three opponents at the same time—sanmensashi, three on one.

“Beat her and I’ll sign whatever you want.”

“Who’s this?”

“Who’s that girl?”

“My apprentice (temp.),” I say.

“Apprentice?”

“Baby Dragon!”

“Is Baby Dragon strong?”

“Extremely strong,” I tell them.

“So I beat Baby Dragon and you’ll give me an autograph?”

“What’s the handicap?”

“Match? Hmm, good question … No handicaps for anyone should be fine.”

I carry a chair with caster wheels over to the table and tell Ai to take a seat and say, “Ai. Three on one. You up for it?”

“Y-Yes!” I don’t blame her for being a bit surprised at first, but “Here we go!!” she says, swinging her arms and psyching herself up for battle.

The first kid in each line starts lining up the pieces. Ai’s having a tough time because she has to set up three boards by herself.

“Ready when you are!”

The matches begin just as the last pieces fall into place.

I take a look at the Match Cards that the children have placed between the piece stand and the board. It’s sort of like a classroom ID, a green card with their name, rank and recent win-loss record written on it.

The best ones are 2-dan, the lowest are beginners … Now, how many games can she win?

It’s extremely difficult for someone facing multiple opponents to focus on one game, so it’s difficult to win even if said someone is stronger than their opponents.

However, Ai is in overdrive.

Normal kids plow straight ahead with the first strategy they think of without taking any time to read the board. They make a lot of mistakes, so it’s pretty common for one wrong move to bring the match to a swift and sudden end.

Meanwhile, Ai’s right fist is clutching the hem of her skirt today too. Not only is she deciphering further and faster than anyone, she’s being careful. Ai’s in her element.

Her talent is on a whole different level from any of the kids here.

“Baby Dragon is a monster!”

“I can’t beat her …”

All twenty of them were laid to waste in forty minutes.

I was expecting her to lose one or two matches, but to win every single one …

“Haa … Haa … ah. Thank you, for playing me …”

Ai puts the last kid in checkmate, shoulders heaving as she lowers her head. She’s soaked with sweat. Sliding back and forth on those casters at high speed while making moves on three boards really takes a physical toll. It’s a Shogi shuttle run after all.

“S-sensei, where should we rank her …?” The understandably stunned classroom staff member asks with a blank Match Card in her hand.

“Two … No. Start her off as a 1-dan please. Oh, here’s the admission fee. She’s going to be here all day.”

In terms of ability, 2-dan or 3-dan would be a better fit for her, but I want to give her as many chances as possible to feel the joy that comes from winning her way up the ladder. I put her in 1-dan like a parent wanting what’s best for their children.

Then again, Ai’s still a raw amateur with only three months’ experience. Thinking logically, it’d be insane to put her 1-dan.

“Ai!”

I take the card from the staff member and hand it to Ai, who keeps shaking her skirt back and forth without realizing her white panties are in plain sight.

“This is your Match Card. Think you can fill it up with white stars?”

“… Yep!!”

Miss Ai Hinatsuru: 1-dan–––Ai lifts the green card with her name on it with both hands, looking at it like she’s found the greatest treasure in all the land. My first apprentice (temp.) smiles from ear to ear.

“Yay! Yummy yummy thank y–♡”

I buy her a pack of orange juice out of the classroom vending machine. She plunges the straw straight in and starts glugging it down before saying thank you. Playing Shogi makes everyone thirsty.

“Gpppah! … Master, you have a match today, right? What time does it start?”

“From 10.”

“It does?! Shouldn’t you hurry up?!”

“Hurry up …? It doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.”

There’s really nothing to do to get ready before a match, so going in early would just mean I sit in front of the board in awkward silence.

Plus, this is a Throne League match with four hours of in-game waiting time. It’ll go well into the night.

I’ll run out of steam halfway through if I go in with too much zip.

“The arena is right upstairs. Showing up at the last minute is no problem.”

“Y-Yes it is! You should always start five minutes early!”

She pushes against my back, trying to get me to move. What doesn’t she understand about there being fifteen minutes left?

“Alright then, would you like to see the arena?”

“May I?!”

“As long as you’re with me.”

The arena above the fourth floor is kept off limits as a general rule … But the Kansai Shogi Association lets people who use the classroom watch regulated matches as a service, so they wouldn’t say no to a tour. And, for a fee, you can rent out the space for yourself too.

“This is the Match Board. These magnets with players’ names on them show who’s playing who in what arena each day.”

I start explaining lots of things as the two of us make it to the fifth-floor entrance at the top of the stairs.

“The loser comes out here and lowers their magnet after the match is over. That system lets everyone know the results.”

“Wow …”

Ai looked a bit shy at first, but her curiosity seems to have taken over. Those eyes are absolutely sparkling.

“So your match today is in … Gyouedan no Aida?”

“That’s Onjyoudan no Ma.”

“And you are facing … Kami, Kami … Umm, how do you read that?”

“Kannabe. Ayumu Kannabe 6-dan. He’s an up-and-coming pro from the Kanto area.”

I was halfway out of my shoes and about to lead her inside the arena when from out of nowhere!

The whole floor is a replica of the Black Corridor in Edo Castle (apparently it has one) and is divided into the Onjyoudan no Ma or “Throne Room,” Ongedan no Ma or “Lower Guard Room” and Fuyou no Ma or “Lotus Room.” The Throne Room is one step higher than the others. Only the most skilled players are allowed to use it: it’s practically a holy site for the Kansai Shogi world. It’s also home to the window where a certain Master of mine relieved himself.

“Humans follow land.”

“Land follows sky.”

“Sky follows Taoism.”

Scrolls written by well-known Shogi legends from long ago hang in the alcoves around the room. Sir Ayumu, sitting on his ankles in the lower seat with his cape collar standing up around his ears, is already in front of the only Shogi board in the Throne Room and elegantly sipping tea from a cup with a saucer in his hand. I’d expect nothing less from royalty.

“Ohh …? So you’ve come without fear?”

“I pretty much have to. It’s a match.”

I go around to the upper seat and sit down on a thin floor mat. Then I take off my wristwatch and put it on the tatami mat beside me while getting comfortable. I take a fan, handkerchief, glasses and water out of my second bag after that.

It’s much easier to sit on a mat that I’m used to, so I have the association send one of the mats whenever I have to play someplace else. My legs tend to fall asleep if it’s one of those expensive, fluffy types and I can’t have that.

Every Shogi player has their own pre-match rituals.

Wiping off their glasses, closing their eyes to focus, bringing in their favorite pot and cups to drink tea like Ayumu. Oh, and there are some who bring their own air purifier (one equipped with minus-ion technology). It’s not a problem, as long as they’re not all that loud.

A long table is set up next to the board for the record keeper. It’s their job to document the match and keep track of time. They also set up the board and place the mats for us.

Sensing that it’s about time, I say, “Should I line them up?”

“Proceed.”

Sliding my match glasses on, I reach for the box of pieces on top of the board and take them out of the silk covering inside. It’s a higher ranking player’s job to get the pieces out and put them away.

I use the established pattern to line up my pieces.

There are two styles for exactly how to put the pieces into place: Itou and Ohashi, with Ohashi being the standard. I use Ohashi, by the way, and of course Ayumu doesn’t use either, choosing his own original style.

The record keeper sees that all pieces are in place and announces.

“From Kannabe-sensei please.”

“God Cauldron please.”

After the usual exchange with the record keeper (ignored per usual) both of us close our eyes to gather our thoughts in the last minutes before the match. My brain is already moving a mile a minute.

“It is time. Please begin the match.”

“Ready when you are.”

Both players bow and Sir Ayumu makes the first move. Then, he removes the cape. Keeping it on until the first move was Ayumu’s style of etiquette, basically his way of showing respect. Personally, I’d rather he didn’t. It’s startling.

I make the second move right away.

Since the order for today’s match was determined beforehand, I came up with my strategy at home. Both of us proceeded at a blistering pace, focused only on getting our pieces in the right places as quickly as possible.

Our battle formations take shape on the board.

Ayumu looks up at me with a fearless smile, gracefully moving his fingers as he slides his pieces across the board.

“Heh-heh-heh … Are you capable of laying siege to the Silver walls of my Citadel?!”

That’s just a simple yagura.

“Kannabe-6 dan, yagura formation …”

Ayumu’s got fire in his eyes, absolutely exuding energy while the journalist sitting next to the record keeper writes everything down like nothing unusual is going on. This is surreal.

Yes, a Shogi journalist.

Today’s match is an important league match that determines who’s eligible to compete for the Throne title. Today’s results will not only be in Shogi magazines, but in mainstream newspapers as well. You know that small corner of the newspaper that shows Shogi standings? It’ll go there.

Ayumu is currently undefeated. His path to the title match becomes almost assured with a victory today.

On the other hand, I lost every match so far and I’ve already been disqualified for this league next season. This match is just a formality, for show.

However, a type of paramount philosophy exists in the Shogi world: A match that may be a formality for you could be valuable to your opponent, so defeat them at once!

Since Ayumu’s dreams of winning the title would disappear should I win today, that philosophy fits my situation to a “T.” I should take Ayumu down here and now. And–––.

“… I’ve had enough of being called Kuzu Ryuo,” I whisper to myself as I move my own king into a yagura-style fortress.

Moves have come one after another following the standard Aiyagura (meaning both of us are doing the yagura strategy) style by the book.

After twenty moves of the same song and dance that took up no time at all, everything up to move ninety-one was as standard as standard could get. Yagura is déjà vu all over again.

“Da-da-da-daaaaaaan! Upgraded from yagura to anaguma!! Defense +2000 points!!”

Striking a pose straight out of Vanguard with a piece sandwiched between his fingers, Ayumu strengthens his defense further still, completing a wall around his king on the left edge of the board. That formation is called yagura anaguma. I don’t know anything about this +2000 defense points thing, but it’s solid as a rock.

Of course, I’m not just twiddling my thumbs.

Aiyagura matches are known for players splitting their forces into well-defined offense and defense groups before the battle truly gets underway. A build up, build up, kaboom! kind of match.

“Now then … What to do, what to do,” I whisper, tapping my chin with my open fan. The board is saturated with pieces. Careful not to break the balance of my own line, I move my Bishop to the front lines to use the projectile weapon to probe the enemy for openings.

“Heh! A bold move.”

Ayumu retaliates immediately by advancing a Pawn to the space directly in front of my Bishop to force it back.

I take a deep breath and retreat my Bishop. This is all according to plan, of course. It’s all to get Ayumu to launch an attack and time my counter to stop in his tracks. The classic bait and switch.

“As you wish …”

Ayumu picks up a piece and strikes another Vanguard pose (a victory pose, maybe?).

“Heed my call, fly Pegasus!”

Accepting my invitation, he sends his right side keima, Knight, to the front lines and ignites the flames of war.

This is going so well that I couldn’t help but smile.

“You know what they say … Pawns feast on the high-flying Knight.”

“That’s high-flying Pegasus, if you please.”

Attacks never stop once they get underway. I need to break the line of Pawns advancing like a tsunami with my own Pawn wall. Known as Shogi’s skin, the Pawns break apart as muscle and bone collide.

“Silver Sword! Feel the wrath of my blade!”

Ayumu slices forward with his Silver.

I match him blade for blade–––taking his Silver and making it my own. Silver, you’re mine!

This should be the part where Ayumu takes my Silver with his Rook but …

“Haaaaaaa ………!!” Ayumu lets out a long breath and reaches for his next piece … the kyousha, Lance!!

“Behold!! My secret technique–––Right Wing Holy Lance!!”

“Ugh?! Th-this is …!”

One look at the sharp Lance bearing down on me like a spear on the right side of the board makes my blood run cold.

He sacrificed his own Silver for this attack! A Silver Sword and Spear combination, sacrificing the blade to strike in quick succession!

So he’s willing to throw pieces away to break through …

I anticipated that Ayumu might try this when I was preparing for the match.

But! There’s a lot more pressure going against the real thing!

“T-The … Kannabe-Style 1 Five Lance …!”

“It’s the Right Wing Holy Lance!!”

Sir Ayumu fervently rebukes. Either one is fine by me.

“Kannabe 6-dan’s next move is the highly anticipated Kannabe-style 1 Five Lance …”

The journalist completely ignores Ayumu’s objections as well. However, he’s clearly writing with a burning passion.

The Kannabe-style 1 Five Lance is a new strategy developed by, you guessed it, Sir Ayumu himself. This technique has become the driving force behind his ascent through the Throne League: completely different from a guy who lost every game like me! (Tears.)

Claiming to be a Knight and all, Ayumu has a really good sense of how to use Lances. The utmost caution is necessary once he’s got one in hand. And by the way, Lance is just another way to say Spear, so he’s not just pulling names out of thin air. I think. Maybe.

“Hmmm …”

Taking his Lance would be really easy. Easy, but …

We Kansai Shogi pros have researched how to defend against this technique the moment it was first used in an official match. I’m confident in my studies, otherwise I wouldn’t have drawn it out.

The days of Kansai Shogi players being called hardheaded outlaws are over. We ain’t going to be out-researched by those Kantoers!

Then again, I’m sure Ayumu and those guys to the east have been researching the strategy even further. Ayumu has absolute confidence in his technique, otherwise he wouldn’t use it so much in official matches.

I have a plan … But, I need to take my time, carefully read the board and make sure that there are no holes in my prepared strategy.

“Hmm ……………… Now then. What to do.”

I take a deep breath and let my butt hit the floor mat, take off my glasses, lean against the armrest and let my mind set to work.

Click-clack. Click-clack. I open and close my fan, establishing a rhythm like a metronome to help me think.

Read.

Read.

Read, read, read …

“………… That’ll do.”

Sitting back on my ankles in perfect posture, I make my move. “Whoa?!” The record keeper and journalist exclaim as they lean in for a closer look.

I–––didn’t take Ayumu’s Lance.

I left it there, sharp tip still stuck in the side of my forces.

Instead, I took Ayumu’s Pegasus–––the Knight he sent out first: a move that should be catching him by surprise.

I look up at my opponent with a How’d you like that, Ayumu?! look in my eyes when …

“Haa … This color, this aroma. I do declare tea to be British royalty’s finest accomplishment …”

You’re the tofu shop owner’s son from the suburbs, are you not?

But I felt uneasy the moment I saw the self-proclaimed nobleman take an elegant slurp of tea. Is that a poker face? Or did he see this coming a mile away …?

It doesn’t matter. I’ll get to enjoy his stunned royal face the moment he figures out what I’m really after!

“… May I see the record?”

“Here you are.”

Taking a look at the paper the record keeper handed to me, I was stunned to learn that the last move took forty minutes. My move.

“No way!”

It felt like ten minutes tops, but time flies when you’re reading the board. I don’t blame Ayumu for drinking tea at all.

The Throne League allows four hours of waiting time. Using twenty minutes at this time would have been all right, but forty is way, way too much. Now I’m far behind in waiting time ……

“Pardon the intrusion.”

It’s almost lunchtime, so one of the staff members comes to ask us what we’d like to order. They’ll get it delivered.

“Kannabe-sensei. What would you like to eat?”

“Let me think … Yes. I would like to dine on Phoenix Easter Egg Chaos today.”

“Chicken and eggs on rice, all right.”

Sir Ayumu pretty much always gets the same lunch, so the staff had no trouble understanding that order.

“And for you, Kuzuryu-sensei?”

“Ah, nothing for me.”

Sir Ayumu looks surprised.

“Will you not dine?”

“I was thinking I’d eat out today.”

“I see …”

Sir Ayumu looks at me with the eyes of the only Chihuahua left unsold at a pet store. He might be a bit nervous about eating by himself at the Kansai Association, away from home.

But I can’t just ignore my apprentice (temp.). Sorry, Ayumu.

“Oh! Still going strong.”

She’s got her Match Card between the board and the piece stand like a real veteran and a chess clock right next to the board. Someone must’ve brought one in and taught her how to use it during one of her many matches.

She’s playing against a girl I see in the classroom all the time. Her big eyes and short, chestnut-colored hair stick out, as does her competitive nature. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say she is about as old as Ai. Being about the same age, both girls are playing their hearts out.

“Let’s see …”

Careful not to break their concentration, I quietly make my way toward them and look at the board.

Their game is in the final stages, formations in shambles on the board. That battle must have been intense.

“… Gahhh, I don’t know anymore! This’ll work!”

Ai’s opponent gives up reading the board as time ticks down and she makes a move. She’s decisive.

Now her turn, Ai, “……… Here, here, herehereherehere ……!”

Rhythmically whispering to herself, she tries to read her way to victory. Even her body is rocking back and forth.

… It’ll take a while, but there is a way to put her opponent’s King in checkmate.

Pros can tell at a glance, but anyone can miss a shorter route to the King during a match.

Now then, can Ai find the right moves in the middle of a live game?

“… Here!!”

Ai reaches for her captured pieces and, with a sharp breath, snaps it down onto the board to put the opposing King in check.

“What?! … Ummm …”

The girl fretted for a moment, faced with a move she never expected. After reading the board as long as time would allow, she grabbed her King as if reaching through water and then slid it to the side–––but that King was already dead.

Ai had anticipated the move and forged ahead taking no time at all. Her opponent realized that checkmate was only three moves away and threw a piece.

“… I lost—.”

“Th-thank you for playing me!”

Pausing to take a breath, the girl started talking to Ai with a bright smile on her face.

“You said your name is Ai Hinatsuru, didn’t you? You’re really good! Where’d you come from? Are you joining the Practice League?”

“Um … I, I’m going to take the test soon …”

“You are?! Then we can play again!”

She’s back to being a normal grade schooler, her competitive fire disappearing the moment the match came to a close. Only kids can flip that switch so fast.

“Ai.”

“Ah! Master!”

I’m sure the girls would have fun chatting away, but my lunch break will end if I let them be.

“Good game. That was a nice bit of reading you did there.”

My apprentice (temp.) looks up at me with happy puppy dog eyes: “Yay yay♡” after I pat her head and give her a compliment.

“You’ve gotta be hungry by now? Wanna go grab a bite?”

“Yay!”

“Go get your Match Card starred. Hers too–––.”

One of the classroom’s rules is that the winner takes both cards to get starred. I look at Ai’s opponent and see–––.

“……!!”

She’s frozen solid, staring at me with her green Match Card clutched in her fingers.

“Um, hello? She needs your Match Card–––.”

“You … you’re Kujuryouryouou … Right?”

Are grade schoolers not capable of pronouncing my name or something?

“Ahh, yes. It’s Kuzuryuo.”

“!!”

The girl tumbles off her chair, listlessly climbs back to her feet and comes up to me.

“Um, I-I-I, um, I’m Miomijyukochi!”

Miss Miomijyukochi, is it?

I take the card from her and look at her name.

“…… Miss Mio Mizukoshi. Yes, you played a good match.”

Complimenting her in my most professional teacher-esque voice, “Hooahh!” Mio makes a strange sound and extends her hand toward me while struggling to stand on wobbly knees.

“U-Umm! M-May I shake your hand?!!”

“Sure. Great job today.”

“Haahh … Haaaaaa ……”

Mio’s face turns red like a steadily increasing pressure gauge.

Many people have asked to shake my hand since becoming Ryuo, but I’ve never seen someone so enthralled. I’m honored … But this is kind of embarrassing. Other people are laughing.

“I’ll never … ever wash this hand again!”

“N-Never …?”

“I’m about to go to the girl’s room, but I won’t wash this hand!!”

“No, please wash, okay?”

I give the just-starred Match Card back to Mio, her head bowed in gratefulness, ask her to keep Ai company and leave the classroom behind.

“Interesting girl, that one. She’s got a pretty good feel for Shogi too. Think the two of you can become friends?”

“……”

“Hm? Something wrong, Ai?”

My apprentice (temp.) was happy and bubbly just a moment ago, but now she’s frowning. All those happy “yays” are gone and she’s whispering something under her breath.

“… I’ve never once gotten a handshake … I’m the apprentice … Crafty little …”

“Huh? Umm … Ai?”

“Master!”

“Y-Yes?”

“Um … Um …………………… Gehh!!”

Out of nowhere, Ai snatches my right hand with both of hers. Then she starts pressing my palm with her thumbs.

What does this girl want to do?

“Well, um … Satisfied?”

“Yay♪”

Grade schoolers, such a mystery …

Stepping outside of the dim building, the spring sunlight was almost blinding. “Ahhhh!” I stretch my arms and ask my apprentice (temp.) a question, “Now then. What do you wanna eat?”

“Ummm … Is there anything you want, Master?”

“Hmm, I’ve pretty much eaten everything all the restaurants around here have to offer.”

“U-ummm, in … In that case …”

“In that case?”

“L-Lunches! … I … made lunches … So …”

“You did? One for me too?”

“Of course!! I woke up early just to make it for you, Master!!”

“Woah …!”

Classic case of the Master being deeply moved by his considerate apprentice (temp.).

Only in the third grade and already such a good, thoughtful girl … I can say that because Big Sis always sends me to the convenience store to pick up her lunch. Even now.

“Then why don’t we eat outside? It’s nice out.”

“Yes!”

And that’s how we ended up going to a nearby park with her still holding my hand.

A short walk away, Kamifukushima Higashi Park is filled with waves of green … That is to say that half of the potted plants someone at the taxi company next door has been looking after have started encroaching into the park, but it just goes to show how little Osakans care about details. Anyway, it’s a small park with a lot of flavor.

We sit next to each other on a bench beneath the sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead and open the lunches that Ai made.

“Onigiri rice ball and fried eggs …?”

“Do you not like them …?”

“No, no. I’m thrilled. I’m not really the type of guy that wants to play Shogi on a full stomach.”

“I’m glad!”

Chomp! Ai holds one of the rice balls in both hands and takes a big hearty bite—except that her mouth is so small that she might never finish it no matter how many hearty bites she takes. Kind of like a cute little hamster. Very cute.

After a good amount of chewing, Ai looks up at me with just her eyes and cautiously asks, “Master, um … H-how is the match going …?”

“Hmm, not bad I think.”

I take alternating bites from the fried eggs and onigiri as I answer. Both are delicious. The rice balls are filled with salmon, my favorite. Maybe she asked Keika about it?

“I’m using yagura and Sir Ayumu got a yagura-anaguma going … Ah, do you know what yagura and anaguma mean?”

“I don’t (>-<)”

“Should’ve figured.”

It’d be faster to explain it to her using the number grid rather than battle formation names, but doing so and exchanging ideas could be considered receiving outside help and violate the rules even though she is in elementary school. I’d be cut down.

“Basically, one is solid and the other is solid as a rock. The one solid as a rock attacks the solid one. That’s where we’re at.”

“And you’re the rock, right Master?”

“No, I’m the solid.”

“Wheh?”

Now her face is solid as a rock. A piece of onigiri filling (salmon) falls to the ground with a soft plop.

She obviously thinks that Ayumu’s got the advantage. Well, can’t blame her. Solid as a rock after all.

“It’s true that his King’s defenses are stiffer and he’s the one on the attack.”

“Playing in that situation sounds like more fun …”

“At the same time, Ayumu’s lost a lot of pieces trying to break my formation by force. The tables will turn the instant I cut off his attack.”

“Can you cut it off?”

“There should be a way. According to my research anyway.”

“Research?”

I talk through a mouthful of origiri to explain what it is to be a pro Shogi player.

“On days that pro Shogi players don’t have matches, they’re hard at work researching their next opponent, looking for weaknesses and studying their battle formations. Prodigy players who show up to the arena and let God guide their hand to victory are pretty much unheard of in today’s Shogi world.”

Then again, there are some people who really show up and play like a god. Like the current Meijin. That guy may as well be God.

“All the research my friends and I did is going into my next move. I’ll cut off Ayumu’s attack this turn … You could say that it’s a victory through detailed research rather than pure ability.”

“……”

Ai is looking at the ground, dead silent.

Did I dash her dreams? She looks at me just as I was starting to worry.

“That’s so cool!!”

“C …… cool?”

“Master, that’s your secret finishing move?! Turning the tide of battle in one turn with a hidden technique that you got from intense training … You’re amazing, Master! The ultimate Drag … Ryuo!”

She was about to say Dragon King, wasn’t she?

“But … well, huh. I suppose if you want to think of it like that …”

“? Did I say something funny?”

“Nah …”

I quickly wiped the corner of my eye so my apprentice (temp.) wouldn’t see.

In pro Shogi matches, where the winner of the standard game, which is close to ninety turns, can be determined by one thoroughly researched move, fans tend to complain by calling it a research lecture or copy Shogi. They really let us have it over the Internet. And of course they do. It’s not that interesting for us, either.

Unfortunately, we don’t live in a nice world where anyone can win without researching.

Most pro Shogi players form teams that we call practice groups, where we use computers to research all kinds of battle styles. There are even some formations we research all the way to checkmate: just one move in an official match—all supported by researching scenarios that won’t show up on the board in hundreds of thousands of matches …

“So, Master, your opponent will give up after your next move, right?!”

“Give up? Well, we’ll be even, or I might get a slight advantage.”

“Oh no! Isn’t your secret technique supposed to end it all?!”

The world isn’t that simple.

“Well, I’d say that being on an equal footing in a match where Sir Ayumu made the first move is putting up a good fight.”

“He’s God Ca … Kannabe-sensei, right? Is he that good?”

“He’s a pro Shogi player.”

“… But he is, a little weird, isn’t he?”

“He’s a pro Shogi player.”

That one phrase pretty much sums everything up.

“Ask ten pros about Ayumu’s skills, and all of them would say something like–––Kannabe? Oh, he’s good. Early game, mid-game, late game, the guy’s got them all covered.”

“So he’s got no weak spots?”

“Oh, he’s got a weakness … I just can’t exploit it right now.”

“Huh?”

“Now then! Let’s head back, shall we?”

I’ve said a little too much. I lick the last bits of rice off my lips and stand up.

“Thanks for the lunch. It was really, really good.”

“E-hehe.”

Ai happily squints her eyes, giddy as I pat her on the head. Damn cute.

“Keika will come get you tonight, so please stay at Master’s place. I’ll swing by in the morning.”

“… Okay!”

Just for a moment, Ai nodded like a good girl.

The first thing Ayumu did once the match started up again was to drive that pointy spear even deeper into my gut.

“And now, cha–––nge! Evolve from Normal Lance to Golden Lance!!”

Narikyou, Promoted-Lance … Is that what he’s trying to say? He flipped the piece over, so that’s probably it.

The Lance has run me through, so now my King is vulnerable to an attack from behind. It’s a difficult position to be in so soon after restarting.

“Heh …… I have you now! Dragon King!!”

“Who has who?”

“Inconceivable?!”

I saw the attack coming by the slimmest of margins.

I leave the Promoted-Lance right where it is behind my King and take a Pawn from my captured pieces and place it on the board to attack a completely different piece. And that piece would be–––.

“My … Rook?!”

“That’s right!”

His advancing Lance is just a diversion, a jab.

“Ayumu! You’re trying to get me to move my defenses with a jab and then unleash a straight punch! And your fist is none other than this Rook! In other words, with this Rook under control, your attack comes to an end!”

“Heh-heh … Now I see. You are a worthy opponent, Dragon King. I commend you for deducing my strategy! However! Do you honestly believe that your weak forces can contain my strongest piece?!”

“Have you forgotten, Ayumu? Forgotten the piece I took just before lunchtime–––?”

“?! You … You couldn’t mean ……!!”

“Fly, Pegasus! I summon you from the captured ranks to take that Rook!”

I like how things are playing out on the board, so I don’t mind having a bit of fun. The record keeper’s cold gaze doesn’t bother me at all!

“What’s wrong, your highness? Your elegant visage is showing some cracks?”

“Kehhhh …!!”

It goes without saying that the Rook is the strongest piece and letting it be taken not only removes a big chunk of your firepower, but it’s also like giving your best weapon to your opponent.

Losing it in the late game is one thing, but losing it in the mid-game pretty much ends a Shogi match. Therefore Ayumu should move it out of the way.

At least he should have.

“Keh … Keh! Keh! … Keh-ha-ha-ha-ha!! At last … the moment I’ve been waiting for!”

“?! … Waiting … for …?”

Ayumu didn’t move the Rook, but another prominent piece–––the Bishop.

“Bishop?!”

He’s abandoning the Rook?! Seriously?!

I couldn’t help but look up at Ayumu.

He seems … surprisingly calm. No explosions of emotion anywhere on his face. And he’s drinking tea again.

My gut’s telling me that I should take that Rook with this move.

Ayumu’s advance can’t go on without it. I should still be able to absorb this attack by the skin of my teeth. I’ve still got a captured Pawn and Silver on my piece stand. I can hold out!

I grab my right leg and squeeze as hard as I can, thoroughly reading the board to make sure my gut instincts are right.

Read. Read. Read …

“………… Okay!”

I had my answer after over an hour of internal deliberation: take the Rook with keima, Knight. How’s that, Ayumu!

“Just as I planned!!”

“What?!”

“Take a gander at your stunned stallion …!”

Ayumu strikes that same Vanguard pose, flips the Bishop over and smacks it back down on the board.

“The one riding on its back–––is death!”

Ayumu’s ryuuma, Promoted-Bishop is headed right for my defensive front. However!

“How naïve, Ayumu! I’m one step ahead of your attack!”

I slide my King out of his Knight’s line of fire.

Shogi’s saying King’s early escape nets eight turns in action! So many of his attack options are now moot!!

“What now?! Can’t keep attacking without your Rook, no … can you?!”

This is when I thought we’d return to the mid-game and regroup, but–––.

Ayumu doesn’t reach for the board, but for his own piece stand. It felt like a pillar of ice shot down my spine the moment I saw him make that move.

“Prepare thyself, for you shall be run through by yet another hidden Lance!!”

Lifting the Lance from his piece stand with the arched-finger dexterity of a pianist, he brought it straight down onto the board. Crap?!

“Dragon Slayer! Georgioooooo––––––os!!”

“Not good …!!”

That move sends a cold shiver down my spine.

Ayumu placed the Lance right behind the Pawn I put down to attack his Rook. Therefore, I can’t block it with my spare Pawn (two players having Pawns in the same column violates the rules)! There’s no way to guard against it …!

“Kannabe-sensei plays a surprising new move, Kannabe-Style 3 Six Lance.”

“I said, Dragon Slayer! Georgios! Weren’t you listening?!!”

Once Ayumu finished telling off the journalist, he points his fan directly at me and says, “What say you, your majesty Dragon King? How does my new tactic Dragon Slayer! Georgios taste?”

“Gh …!!”

I bite my lip and start searching the board.

I want information. What is Ayumu’s next target? Are my formations still intact? Can my King escape with a stronger defensive line? Is there any opening to counterattack–––?

“And by the way, the name is derived from the great dragon-slaying martyr, the knight St. George. It is said that he thrust his lance into the mouth of the dragon that breathed poison before wrapping a girdle that he received from a princess around its neck and leading the beast around like a dog before delivering the final blow.”

I didn’t need that information …

“No! There needs to be an exclamation point after the Dragon Slayer!” Ayumu tells off the journalist, issuing an order. Maybe he’s going for a Swift! (Black Shogi Piece 3 Seven Climbing Silver kind of name?)

He clearly planned this combination. That lukewarm strategy name that some middle schooler would think up is obviously his doing.

Basically … Ayumu’s had this in mind since I put that Pawn down thirty moves ago?

No. Even further back … He’s had this in mind since I started making the yagura formation more than seventy moves ago. He saw this change coming and led me right to it.

If that’s true–––Ayumu has researched all the way to checkmate.

The record keeper announces a chilling truth with burning vigor.

“…… s.”

My “yes” disappears into thin air.

From now on, I only have one minute to make each move. Otherwise, I’ll have to forfeit the match because I ran out of time.

“Thirty seconds— … Forty seconds— …”

The record keeper uses a unique intonation to read off the time.

It’s just past 9 o’clock at night.

Since the match started at 10 o’clock in the morning and we had about an hour for lunch, the two of us have been playing for nearly 11 hours already.

Ayumu still has one hour of waiting time.

And I have–––zero.

“Fifty seconds—. One, two—, three–––.”

“…!!”

I made my move at “seven.”

Even under these harsh conditions where I don’t have enough time to run to the john, I grit my teeth and keep playing through the pain.

Against the ropes, I keep defending. My nerves are strung out as far as they can go in this hopeless, exhausting battle.

On the other hand, “It’s always my turn!” Ayumu declares, pressing his attack in perfect condition.

The formations are already shifting from Ayumu’s advantage to Ayumu’s victory.

“Heh heh. Perhaps it’s time I strike the final blow and retire to the dining room …”

There is no dinner break in the Throne League. I’ve been thinking nonstop for more than eight hours.

My nerves have already reached their limit, my concentration is fading and now I have to play one-minute Shogi.

–––Where did I slip up?

–––Was taking that Rook a mistake?

–––… Nah, perhaps going with yagura against Ayumu was wrong in the first place …?

Under pressure from the record keeper’s time reading, I’ve got nothing but regrets.

I can keep pointlessly moving pieces across the board.

But … As a titleholder, as the Ryuo, I can’t do anything shameful.

–––Am I really allowed to keep playing like this?

–––But people will tear me apart on the Internet for giving up too soon if I throw in the towel now …

Those were the only thoughts running through my head. Rather than reading the board, I’m trying to figure out exactly how I want to lose.

I’ve lost my will to keep fighting at this point–––the match is as good as over.

I’m pretty sure everyone in the room has already caught onto that. Even the journalist who’d been camping out in the waiting room is back at the table next to the board. All to document the moment I surrender.

–––At least, make it beautiful …

Match records are the only way that we Shogi players can prove to the later generations that we existed. They’re like musical scores for musicians.

It’s okay to lose. I can accept that.

But to be forever remembered as only that level and laughed at until the end of time, that I absolutely cannot accept.

Especially since the journalist will publish a story about this match in the newspaper.

Which means an unfortunate record will be on display for the whole world to see.

I’m going to lose, there’s no way around it. Even if I can’t avoid everyone seeing me in defeat … I can at least make it look like a good loss.

There’s something similar to beheading a samurai at the end of their ritual suicide that we call setting the scene.

The two competitors synchronize their breathing and pretend it had been a heated battle all the way until one move before their surrender.

It’s not fixing a match by any means. Losing with grace is one aesthetic of being a pro. You could say that being beautifully cut down is a technique in a pro’s repertoire.

My mind set, I move to attack Ayumu’s King.

“What’s this?”

Ayumu looks surprised by my decision for a moment but, “Heh … I see. You’ve accepted your fate …,” he whispers with a tinge of sadness in his voice and engages my attack.

I bet all the Shogi fans watching the match on the association’s live coverage on the Internet are shouting things like “It’s the check to remember!” right about now.

Yes. This is the check to remember.

Doing this now means that the journalist can write a record saying, “It was a close match where the victor was in check at the very end.” I’ve set the scene.

All I have to do now is stick my neck out. Just retreat back to my side of the board and find the shortest, most beautiful path to the end and move my pieces to follow through. Knowing Ayumu, he’ll finish me off right away.

–––Please make it painless, Ayumu …

In the moment that thought crossed my mind and I was about to extend my neck, “Huh?”

I happened to glance up as I picked up a piece and caught something unbelievable out of the corner of my eye.

“… Feeeeh?”

A strange sound comes out of my lips in disbelief.

Ai was there.

What’s this? There’s a grade schooler in the arena?

I wonder if my eyes have gotten tired from watching too much Shogi?

“Fifty seconds—. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine–––.”

“Ten!”

Brought back into the moment by the record keeper’s countdown, I panic and make a move.

I was fully intent on setting the scene, but I rushed and moved the wrong piece. I can see the annoyed he’s still going? looks on the record keeper and journalist’s faces, but that’s the last of my worries.

Why?

What’s Ai doing here?

I check the time. It’s already past ten. She should have gone to Master’s house, brushed her teeth and hit the sack a long time ago.

But here she is, in the arena. Those little feet brought her into the Onjyoudan no Ma, plopped into a chair between the record keeper and journalist where the grade schooler is now leaning over the long desk and looking at the board with twinkling eyes.

“Hold up … huuuh? H-hey …”

I look right at her. Hey, hello. Look at me.

But she doesn’t even notice my gaze. She’s completely focused on something else.

Ai’s staring at one thing and one thing only–––Ayumu’s King.

Seeing that little body of hers rock back and forth, I know exactly what she’s thinking.

She’s reading.

Using her entire body. Pouring her body and soul into it.

“… Here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here …”

Without showing any sign that she knows I’m looking at her, Ai puffs out her cheeks, her ears bright red all the way to the tips as she single-mindedly searches the board.

Looking for what? That’s obvious.

My victory. More specifically, the path to it.

Ai’s engrossed in reading, searching for that, and only that, on this board drowning in despair.

“… Here, here, hereherehere … No! Then how about … here, hereherehereherehere … Too slow! Faster … There has to be a faster way––––––.”

There’s a simple reason that our eyes aren’t meeting.

I’ve only been looking at my King. Never once thinking of going on the attack, I’ve kept my head down, hiding in my shell like a turtle and just kept defending. I’ve only been worried about my pride as Ryuo and saving face. I’ve been looking down and regretting everything under the weight of my heavy position.

But Ai is different.

She’s got her head up, focused only on Ayumu’s King. She’s looking for a way to attack, not just defend.