Ryuuou no Oshigoto! - Volume 2 - Chapter 4.4

  LIGHT THAT WENT UNSEEN

“…… I lost.”

Placing her hands on the board, my apprentice signaled that she is throwing in the towel.

Buckets of sweat start rolling down Ai Yashajin’s white cheeks as soon as she did, long black hair suddenly plastered to her skin.

Since the winner’s mind has to be going full throttle until the final moment, it’s impossible to relax right away. She may have maintained an elegant air, but Ai Yashajin had just barely come out on top.

On the other hand, Ai Hinatsuru looks more at peace.

Since the loser has time–––time to mentally prepare and accept the loss from the moment their spirit breaks, they seem a lot more collected when the match ends.

It also helps that her opponent used an early game strategy she’d never seen before and perfectly blocked her offensive. Losing this way doesn’t hurt too bad because you have the best excuse, “My opponent was really good.” It’s much, much worse when you let a chance to win slip away and end up losing knowing you could have won. Those matches hurt, so much so I don’t want to talk about it.

My apprentice thinks that she never had a chance.

Then again, Ai Yashajin probably thinks the exact same thing. That she played the perfect game.

“Nh. That was a great match, you two.”

Practice League instructor Kuruno-sensei addresses the two Ais as the girls sat there in silence.

“Miss Yashajin, you showed excellent technique. Miss Hinatsuru, your pursuit was outstanding. Especially towards the endgame. Though, I must say, it’s unlike you to miss a checkmate.”

“Huh?” the girls’ voices echo.

The two girls look up at him in shock. Kuruno-sensei moves the pieces back a few turns and starts to explain.

“This move would have ended the match.”

In that moment, my apprentice’s expression changed in the blink of an eye.

“Ah ……!”

A simple seven-move checkmate.

Kuruno-sensei had returned the board to the point where Ai Yashajin advanced her Gold.

Not only was it questionable, it was the worst possible move she could make. All Ai Hinatsuru had to do was take it, and checkmate.

“Ah …… Ahhh ……!”

If this had been a Shogi puzzle, I bet Ai would’ve solved it in a second. Now, holding her head in her hands with eyes open wide in disbelief at having such a simple, straightforward Check Path pointed out to her, my apprentice shakes her head no over and over again.

She wipes away tears between sobs, but the dam has already broken.

“…… It was right there …… Right there ……!”

Tears dripping onto the board, my apprentice keeps lining up the pieces and moving them into checkmate only to reset and do it all over again.

Ai Yashajin didn’t say anything, just watched the pieces move with her head down. There’s anger in her eyes, anger at herself. She didn’t see that Check Path either.

It was a simple one, but neither of them spotted it during the match.

Opponents synchronizing during a match is pretty common. It was Ai Yashajin’s careless oversight that caused Ai Hinatsuru’s mistake. There’s no difference in their skill level at all. Ai Yashajin won the match, but Ai Hinatsuru prevailed in the psychological battle on the board.

However, that’s not much consolation for the loser.

Since there was a chance to win, the my opponent was better than me excuse goes right out the window.

She lost because of her own weakness.

Weak enough to miss a seven-move checkmate.

It’s exactly why she’s sobbing and moaning in pain, that fact was made clear as day. Knowing that she wasn’t good enough to see a seven-move checkmate is what’s triggering these tears.

She wipes them away with the back of one hand, fingernails digging into her knee with the other.

“I hate this ……! This hurts ……!”

There’s a great deal of remorse in her voice.

“I-I …… I thought I couldn’t get there during the match …… Gave up halfway through …… Fell so far behind at the start that at some point I started thinking I can’t win anyway …… Master said she’s better, so there’s no way, that same voice over and over, wearing me down, breaking my spirit before I knew what happened ……”

Plop, plop. Like her tears hitting the board.

Ai squeezes the words out of her throat, her voice getting more distant with each syllable.

“I …… I lost ……!”

But then, each word started coming out rougher than the last.

“If only I’d practiced more …… If only I’d played against stronger opponents more ……! If only I’d done even more Shogi puzzles ……! If only I’d focused on Shogi so much that I didn’t have time to think about anything else ……! If only …… I’d done more …… I could’ve done so much more ……!! I came all the way to Osaka so that I could practice Shogi more too ……!!”

There’s no anger or resentment for an opponent after a loss.

All of it is directed inward, directly at yourself.

All of that anger is at how weak you are.

That’s why my apprentice is yelling from the bottom of her heart like this, slapping her knees like so many before her at this very place.

“I …… I want to be better, stronger ……!!”

All of the professionals, Practice League members, and Sub League members in the room …… including myself, do nothing to comfort her.

All of us know that pain.

Every single person that has entered the world of professional Shogi overcomes it on their own. If you can’t bear it, you can’t last in this world.

Simply put, playing professional Shogi means you will continue to lose.

No pro is invincible. All of us are scarred.

All of us will lose, it’s not a matter of if but when. Actually the better the player, the more they’ve lost.

Players good enough to get to the top play more matches, and thus lose more matches. The number in the loss column is a badge of honor.

Even though we all understand this, losing is so painful that it physically hurts.

It doesn’t go away with age or once you make it into the big matches, that makes it worse. Losing makes a grown man want to cry. Nothing is more appealing than running home, bawling at the top of your lungs and jumping headfirst into bed to have a good cry. Some people actually do. The urge to grab a knife and cut off the hand that made such a stupid mistake is very real.

It’s because Shogi is all we know. If Shogi rejects us, there’s nothing left.

“……”

My apprentice is learning what that pain is, what it means for the first time as I silently watch from a distance.

Expressing happiness, sadness or anger while seated in front of the Shogi board, basically letting emotions take over, is considered rude. As Ai’s master, it’s normally my responsibility to take her away from the board and scold her for this.

But right now, I think it’s okay for her to cry.

It’s okay for the pain to seep into her very being. She can cry her heart out, bite the pieces and let those tears of sadness drop onto the board.

People who don’t cry when they lose will never get stronger.

I wanted Ai to experience this feeling. Teach it to her.

I can teach her techniques. I can teach her how to prepare mentally as well.

But there’s no way for Big Sis or I to get her to feel something at the very bottom of her soul. The only way to do that is for Ai to meet someone that she absolutely does not want to lose against under any circumstances, and compete against them.

An opponent you don’t want to lose against–––only a rival can fill that role.

“…… Looks like I win,” says Ai Yashajin, her gaze on the board where her own King was in checkmate. “You may have had a chance to win, but you let it slip away. In other words, you weren’t good enough to take it,” says Ai, thrusting the words out there.

Her lips pale, she’s struggling to control her shaky voice.

“You aren’t on my level. None of the Practice League Members in this room are. It doesn’t matter that you got in first, I don’t look up to anyone weaker than myself.”

“…… Humph”

Having seen her talent with their own eyes, no one tries to argue. They’re all still in shock at her overwhelming might.

However, Ai wasn’t done yet.

“But–––I suppose thinking of you as an opponent would be all right.”

Those words were tiny, quiet …… Barely above a whisper. Her pale face had taken on a redder hue than usual.

The response was explosive.

“Ai!”

My apprentice looks up from the board, reaches out with her hand still glistening with tears, and grabs hold of her opponent’s hand and yells, “A review session! Let’s review?! Please?!”

“…… Fine.”

Ai Yashajin knocks Ai Hinatsuru’s hand away before grumpily resituating herself. Their conversation started off on an uncomfortable note, but quickly became an invigorated discussion.

“Where ‘da heck did she learn Move-Loss?!”

“That move really turned out to be the best?! What about movin’ like this?!”

The other Practice League members join in, smiles spreading around the room in no time.

No one’s hesitating to talk to Ai Yashajin anymore, and she looks comfortable responding to them. Shogi has that power. A mysterious power that brings people together.

Relieved, I was about to leave the room when–––.

“Master!!”

My apprentice stops in the middle of her review session to turn and call out to me.

“Umm, ehh …… Uhh ……”

My clumsy apprentice stumbles over words, trying to find the best ones–––but ends up with the most straightforward ones possible.

“Once I come home …… Please, teach me to play Shogi again!!”

Hearing her words from behind my back, I–––.

“…… I’ll be in front of the shops at the usual time.”

I stop walking, but stay facing forward and respond with only my voice …… I can’t let her see tears running down her Master’s face.

“The refrigerator is empty. We’ll stop by the supermarket on the way home.”

“…… Yes!! Master!!”

Shogi is always the best way to make amends.

Once I leave the room, I quickly spot Akira leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest. Her nerves couldn’t take it, so she left the room well before I did. Sunglasses are back on. Mafia, 100 percent. A fish out of water at the Shogi Association.

“Sorry, Akira. They’re really getting into the review session, so it’ll be a while longer.”

“Humph …… I can kill time, no problem. I’ve got this, you see!”

Akira then boldly takes a piece of green paper out of her suit pocket, holding it up between her fingers with a proud smirk on her face.

“?!! T-That’s ……!!”

A Shogi Association Match Card. 13-kyu ……

“Heh heh heh …… I was feeling lightheaded and went downstairs to buy a drink when a young person behind the front counter addressed me. They apparently recognized my hidden talent ……”

That’s pandering to customers, happens all the time.

It’s not every day that women visit the association, so one of the staff members or a part-time Sub League member worked up the courage to say hello. 

But Akira doesn’t seem to understand that, trying to sound informed by spouting a Shogi term she doesn’t understand like, “My Static Rook style came alive, a direct approach with koshikae gin.” She just keeps going, and I doubt she knows much at all about the Reclining Silver Strategy.

“Oh yes, that’s right. The strategy my lady just employed …… The Mid-Boss Shop Change, was it?”

“The Move-Loss Bishop Exchange.”

“Yes, that’s what I said!”

Akira sounded more like a girl her age for a moment before forcing herself back into her usual tone.

“That is your specialty, correct? I’ve heard that almost no one else uses it.”

“That’s true.”

“Please consider why my lady employed that strategy against your apprentice, Sensei. Think on it.”

“……The meaning behind, the Move-Loss ……”

That did catch my attention.

And my suspicions were pretty much confirmed during that match.

Move-Loss strategies aren’t something that amateurs can just read about and use in a match. Ai Yashajin’s level is far too high for that.

She plays with the pro’s touch.

No amount of talent would allow her to do that.

Using the Move-Loss Bishop Exchange requires a special feel for the game that can only be refined through practice.

Talent only takes shape with a lot of practice.

It’s almost like she’s studied every match when that strategy was used, playing through the match records over and over until her fingernails cracked, blood tracing the pieces over the board ……

Ai Yashajin had to have endured the same level of training. I can tell. As someone who’s walked down the same path, I see the signs.

What is it …… that Ai wants from Shogi?

As the only one who truly understands her playing style, I’m the only one who can truly answer that question.

That’s what Akira is asking, that much I know. Which is exactly why I answered, “…… Yes. I’m putting a lot of thought into it.”

“Please do.”

Akira nods.

“One more thing. My lady …… has only worn black garments since the day her parents passed.”

“………!”

“However, I would like nothing more than to see my lady adorned in white. While she is the very definition of beauty in black …… I believe that she would be truly stunning in white.”

Her voice sounded almost dreamlike, trying to stifle sadness at the same time.

So, I declare with confidence, “I think so too.”

“Yes!”

She wraps her arm around my shoulders and spoke with glee. She must’ve liked it.

“By the way, Sensei. Are you going home?”

“Oh, I’m not. I need to wait for my apprentice to finish up ……”

“Perfect! To the classroom. I’ll show you how much I’ve improved!”

“Sure, sure.”

She then played against a 12-kyu kindergartner and forfeited because she violated the rules, moving her Silver straight back. She didn’t even hesitate.

She still has a long, long way to go.