Ryuuou no Oshigoto! - Volume 7 - Chapter 2.7

  CARVING LIFE AWAY

Kousuke decided to make a rare visit to the association that day.

“Hiuma would be happy doin’ a practice session with me any day of the week.”

The oldest member of the Kansai Sub League, Hiuma Kagamizu 3-dan, was the only member of that group Kousuke had any connection to apart from his own apprentice, Ginko.

Nearly ten years ago now.

Back when the Sub League would take annual leisurely overnight trips as a group.

His apprentice Yaichi participated in one said trip and a veteran Sub League member approaching thirty years of age was about to wake the boy up to make him run to the convenience store for more snacks.

Hiuma stepped in to protect him.

As the story goes, Hiuma stood between them and said, “Yaichi Kuzuryu is Kansai’s … no, the Shogi world’s treasure! I will go buy anything you wish, just please don’t wake him!!”

Hearing this story brought Hiuma Kagamizu to Kousuke’s attention.

For a country boy living off a miniscule salary all by himself, devoting his waking hours to Shogi training was by no means an easy feat.

Though he was careful not to dote on the young man and kept an appropriate distance, Kousuke found ways to assist him. Hiuma, perceptive as he was, understood that.

Therefore, Hiuma couldn't possibly turn him down–––.

“Oh-ho! Everybody's workin’ hard, I see,” said Kousuke at the top of his lungs the moment he entered the Player’s Room and saw all the Sub League members playing practice matches.

The up-and-coming players didn't so much as pause. Hiuma was among them. Though he gave Kousuke a nod of acknowledgment, he shifted his focus back to his own practice match without saying a word.

–––A 9-dan goes outta his way to say hello, and not a peep ……!

Anger swelled in his gut, but Kousuke held it down.

The Player’s Room in his memory wasn’t much different from a lounge.

The TV was always on, tuned in to a baseball game or horse racing, as a constant haze of cigarette smoke filled the air from dawn to dusk. Younger players trying to practice on their own would get an earful of veterans yelling, “Yer in the way! Get out!” That kind of place.

Of course, once they did get around to playing Shogi, the coffee tab was always on the line. Kousuke had lost a great deal of spending money at the hands of the older players.

–––Scary …… But there was a warmth to it.

And now, it felt like another place entirely.

The smoke-stained walls were covered with league match schedules and announcements from the association, the bookshelves that had been littered with manga and sports magazines were now filled with Shogi puzzles from one end to the other.

It goes without saying that the ash trays were a thing of the past and the TV monitor was hooked up to a live feed of a match taking place in the arena.

This unnaturally monochromic transformation gave Kousuke the impression players these days had gone soft.

It was nothing more than a glorified classroom.

For Kousuke, adhering to the veteran’s outrageous demands while grinning and bearing their random provocations was part of the training process.

It built character and prepared younger players for the stresses that came with living in the Shogi world and they were stronger for it.

–––Looks like now I gotta be the one to teach ’em a thing or two.

Determined to fulfill his new role, Kousuke strode into the Player’s Room with vigor as he looked on at each of the practice matches in turn.

“Ohh? That’s an interestin’ style ya got there.”

Kousuke had found his way to the board where the boy who’d become youngest 3-dan the Shogi world had ever known just last month, Sota Kunugi, was playing.

Though he missed his first opportunity to promote when he lost to Ginko, the young player secured his entry to the 3-dan division the next time the Sub League met like nothing had ever happened.

Thinking it would be interesting to try his hand against the boy, Kousuke addressed him with a gentle tone.

“Kiddo, ya got a good grasp on strategy for bein’ such a tyke. Tell me, what would ya do if someone played this move instead?”

“…………”

Though he glanced up at Kousuke with a look that screamed Who is this old guy? Sota moved another piece in response.

“That’s checkmated, too.”

“Nah. Shift this out here, and the King is home free. Think hard, now.”

With that, Kousuke interrupted the review session going on one board over.

The two players were only reviewing opening sequences, but he started badgering them with questions.

The issue was that Kousuke offered no opinions or research of his own and instead one-sidedly dug for answers out of as many of the players as he could.

From Kousuke’s perspective, he was simply identifying people worthy of inviting to a practice session, but ……

“Now then, ’suppose it’s ’bout time I got in on a match myself.”

Despite not being involved in that particular match, Kousuke declared their review session to be at an end and immediately went over the one he thought looked like the weakest, lowest ranking Sub League member in the room and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Ya. Sorry, but would ya gimme that chair?”

Jumping in surprise that a top-tier pro would even address him directly, the Sub League member had no choice but to do as he was told. His shoulders slumping, the young man gave up his seat.

“Kiyotaki-sensei.”

Hiuma had been in the middle of a review session one chair over but now spoke up for the first time.

His voice was terse, but Kousuke didn’t notice.

“Alrighty. Which one of ya lucky kiddos’ll be the first to play me, eh? I’ll learn ya a thing or two. It ain’t every day ya lot get the chance to learn from a Meijin Challenger, yeah?”

All the busy hands in the room came to a halt as the Sub League members exchanged uneasy glances back and forth.

However, not a single one of them moved to accept Kousuke’s offer.

Overcoming the initial shock, he was about to extend another open invitation when suddenly.

“Sensei! May I have a word?”

“Hm? What’s eatin’ ya, Hiuma?”

“…… I’ll turn 30 years old during the next 3-dan division season. I’m already well beyond the age limit of 26 and this is the last season I can extend my tenure with a winning record. I only have so many matches remaining. Life as I know it will end in half a year.”

With those words, Hiuma gestured out to all the other Sub League members practicing in the room.

“I’m not the only one. Every person here is willing to work themselves to death for a chance to turn professional. All of us are desperate.”

“I know just how yar feelin’. My days back in the Sub League were no cakewalk either. Actually, ya guys are lucky! The association buildin’ wasn’t even half this size–––.”

“No, you don’t understand,” said Hiuma, plain as day.

A new tension, one completely different from a match, took hold of the room.

Even so, Hiuma did not falter.

“I acknowledge that you are a high-ranking professional, Sensei. You have achieved 9-dan as well. I would follow your instructions in a heartbeat if we were in an arena. However, this room is dedicated to Shogi training and practice. Rather than people playing Shogi to kill time or for amusement, ones who seriously want to improve should take priority. It’s common sense.

“Furthermore, everyone is equal at a Shogi board. Those born into well-off houses may have grown up with more things at their disposal, but all who play Shogi have only 20 pieces to work with. Everyone battles on equal footing. People may listen to someone with a high status, but status has nothing to do with Shogi.

“That is Shogi. It treats everyone equally, including uneducated riffraff shunned by society like me. That’s why we try so hard. That’s why we devote our hearts and souls to playing Shogi. We believe it’s worth putting our very lives on the line for it. Shogi is what gives us purpose, recognizes our value as people.

“The young man you just forced out of that seat wakes up at 5 o’clock every morning and spends two hours on the train to get here. The reason he must get up so early is because every seat in here will be taken if he arrives after 7 o’clock. He may have a low kyu ranking and he may be the weakest player in this room. However, every one of us can see his determination, his drive to improve. We are happy to work with him because his persistence will have a positive impact on us as well.

“He worked hard to claim that seat. No one gave it up for him.

“Taking away a seat, asking about hard-earned research results and forcing someone to play against their will are not things anyone in this world can do. That holds true for the Meijin himself.”

Hiuma jerked his thumb toward his chest for emphasis.

“Let me ask you a question, Sensei. What we are doing here is completely different from a mundane board game with money on the table. We are carving our lives away to play Shogi. How are you going to compensate us for that, Sensei?”

“Compensate …… ya?”

Rage built within Kousuke’s chest, his voice rising.

The whiskers of his beard shook with anger as beads of spit flung from his mouth.

“That’s what I’ve been tellin’ ya this whole time! I admit I don’t got the latest info, but I challenged the Meijin, twice! Here I am, offerin’ ta teach!”

“I’ll pass. Experience is something each person builds on their own time. There’s no point listening to someone else talk about the past.”

“Ya ……! I …… a 9-dan, mind ya, I’m lowerin’ my head and askin’ ya folks to play a match–––.”

“No, you did not, Sensei. You said, I’ll learn ya a thing or two.”

Calm and collected in the face of Kousuke’s fury, Hiuma Kagamizu Sub League 3-dan’s voice was crystal clear.

“As you are now, Kiyotaki-sensei, you have nothing to teach us. In fact, you are preventing us from training. Please, let us be.”

The chorus of snapping Shogi pieces and electronic clicks from chess clocks had completely vanished by this point.

No one said a word; every player’s eyes were fixed on the board in front of them …… That is until Sota’s innocent remark, “Checkmated after all, don’t you think?” echoed through the room.