Ryuuou no Oshigoto! - Volume 1 - Chapter 1

☖ YAICHI’S GRATITUDE

“WIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!”

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—.

That day at the Kansai Shogi Association Headquarters was supposed to be a special day for both of us: a match was scheduled between me and Kiyotaki 9-dan.

“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——.

And now Master has exposed his legs right along with that youthful spirit, dead set on “unleashing a free flow” from a fifth-floor window of the Shogi Kaikan, practically a holy site for the Kansai Shogi community.

“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 FOUNTAAAAIINNN!!”

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 …