Ryuuou no Oshigoto! - Volume 1 - Chapter 3.8

☗ SETTING THE SCENE

“Kuzuryu-sensei. Your allotted time has expired. Therefore, each turn must be completed in one minute for the remainder of the match.”

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.

The apprentice (temp.) who should have gone back to Master’s house with Keika is in the arena, watching my match with the record keeper and journalist beside the board.

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.

There’s a simple reason that our eyes aren’t meeting.

“… Here, here, hereherehere … No! Then how about … here, hereherehereherehere … To slow! Faster … There has to be a faster way———.”

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.

Believing in my victory. Believing her Master can win.

“… She’s right.”

This little girl came from far away on the north coast by herself, even ran away from home, all to become my apprentice. To Ai, I’m probably the best in the world, cool beyond belief, invincible Dragon King. Just like how I used to see Master Kiyotaki.

That’s, that’s just it.

I can’t be looking down at a time like this! I can’t just accept losing!!

“So … Shall I play you a requiem?”

Ayumu picks up a piece like a performing pianist and snaps it down at a slightly higher pitch, moving in a way to encourage my surrender. An I’ll still play along with your scene type of move.

“… Sorry, Ayumu. I’ve had a change of heart.”

“What?”

But I refuse his offer, read the board as long as time allowed, and made a move that muddied the board.

I had my King run away, abandoning his vessels in a shameless, ugly move.

I chose a path that pros would rather die than take, an unsightly, embarrassing move that other players will roast me for until I wish I were dead. The kind of move a stubborn outlaw would make.

As expected, the record keeper sends an ice-cold glance my way before grudgingly recording my move. The journalist lets out a long sigh as if annoyed that he’s got more pointless work to do.

As for Ayumu sitting on the other side of the board——.

“So you’ve chosen to fight against fate … How foolish ………… Keh!”

Pressing down on his right eye, the one with the color contact, he——.

“… Keh keh keh, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Yes! So it must be! That’s exactly why you are my eternal archenemy! I’d expect nothing less from the evil Dragkin!!”

Holy Knight. Sir Ayumu God Cauldron makes the strongest offensive move possible, the piece hitting the board with the bursting clack! all with a smile plastered on his face. Then, he pinned back his long bangs and leaned out over the board.

Even though there are much safer ways to win, he threw that option out the window and charged directly in for the kill. Royalty are just too damn cool!

“Now! Shall we continue the eternal battle of good and evil that has raged since our past lives?!”

“I don’t know about the eternal part——,” I say while immediately making my next move with a fearless smile on my lips. “But I’ll keep you entertained until the end of the night.”

"60th Season"

Throne League Match

Red White League

Offence ☗ 6-dan Ayumu Kannabe (3W)

              ☖ Ryuo Yaichi Kuzuryu (3L)

Who would’ve ever thought this would be such an intense match?

Onjyoudan no Ma. Here, at the holiest of sites in the Kansai Shogi world, two players went head-to-head in a battle for the ages. Their hands moved faster and faster like a quickening heartbeat, fierce and intense.

Kuzuryu would make one move using no time, and Kannabe would respond just as quickly. It went against logic. Their pride as contemporary pros prevented them from yielding any ground and kept their minds working at full speed.

“Intense,” the support staff member muttered under his breath, in awe of a game that was ultimately decided by a move that Kannabe made a little too quickly under pressure.

“… To be honest, I was looking for the best place to surrender,” said Kuzuryu in a weak voice once the match had concluded. Those words ring true.

So what gave him the strength to persevere?

“I thought I’d try holding out. As a titleholder … As Ryuo, I was more concerned about leaving behind a record worthy of my title until tonight. As a result, I always looked for the best way to lose once my formation was broken rather than keep fighting. But,” Kuzuryu looked up, bringing his face into the light and declared with no waiver in his eyes, “I’ve come to the realization that leaving behind an unconventional, muddy record is better than a loss. I don’t want to lose anymore, to anyone. That’s all there is to it.”

Kuzuryu took on an apprentice just before the match got underway.

This apprentice was in attendance and watched the match board-side, a little girl in elementary school.

She sat on her ankles, in perfect posture the entire time, continuously believing that her master would find a way to win. Seeing her there may have had something to do with Kuzuryu’s new outlook.

“That could be true. After all, I don’t want my apprentice to see me lose,” the still sixteen-year-old Ryuo said before smiling clumsily at his nine-year-old apprentice.

It may be too early to make any predictions based on this match alone.

However, in my opinion as a writer, I believe the young Ryuo has returned to form. No, he is still in the process of growing stronger, maturing before our very eyes.

(KUGUI)