Match 3: The Resolve to Love a Monster
Rewinding the clock a little...
Beside the board where Aoi Rena and Yunoki Nagisa were about to clash, silent sparks were already flying between the two captains.
West District Captain Watanabe Mikado versus South District Captain Tennoji Kaito—a one-on-one duel whose curtains were about to rise.
"..."
"..."
It was utterly quiet.
Neither let their wariness show on the surface, but high tension coiled tight behind their eyes.
Kaito let out a faint sigh.
Toppling the Central District at the prefectural tournament—it was a feat tantamount to conquering the nationals. A fortress called Central, against which every regional district had hurled themselves in frantic ambition, only to be utterly repelled.
Back when the heroes of the Second Generation still belonged to Gaisen Dojo, the dojo was an opponent that contemporary amateurs stood no earthly chance of rivaling.
Even now, after those heroes had surged ahead and moved on, Gaisen Dojo's solitary reign remained unbroken. Thanks to its peerless training environment, it still boasted a deep stable of exceptional talent even without those legends.
Central's wall was towering and thick. But that was precisely why the view waiting for whoever shattered it was clearer and brighter than anywhere else.
In the past, Tenryu Kazuki had managed to defeat Gaisen Dojo, riding that momentum all the way to a national championship and claiming the title of Yellow Dragon Champion.
In other words, how to overcome the ultimate foe—the prefecture's strongest, Gaisen Dojo. That was the singular greatest challenge thrust upon every regional district.
...Or so I'd thought.
Tennoji Kaito cast a sidelong glance at Watanabe Mikado, who served as the West District's Captain.
After shutting down the East District's interference as if it were nothing, Mikado had been talking to Gaisen Dojo's master about something. Kaito had caught a brief glimpse of that exchange just as he was walking away.
And right now, Mikado appeared to be practically cradled in the arms of a massive upperclassman on his team.
The listless, lethargic expression Mikado wore felt infinitely uncanny to Kaito.
The Emperor of Self-Destruction... The man who carved out a name for himself in online shogi, huh...?
—Troublesome. Kaito couldn't summon a single other impression.
A signal prompting the players to prepare for their matches echoed through the hall. In response, the players from both the West and South Districts took their seats before their boards and opened their piece boxes.
As Kaito settled into the captain's seat, he tracked Mikado's every move with his eyes.
"..."
Whether from nerves or anticipation, Mikado's fingertips trembled ever so slightly. While his face showed no stiffness, his gaze seemed to crave an outlet for an adrenaline rush; even as he set up his pieces, he was already adopting a posture of deep calculation.
Mikado touched his pieces before Kaito did, picking up the King.
That piece is going to march all the way into my camp eventually... Envisioning as much, Kaito braced himself for a grueling, protracted battle.
—A few minutes later. The call to commence the matches rang across the hushed venue.
Both Kaito and Mikado straightened their postures, exchanging solemn glances.
"Let's have a good match."
"Let's have a good match."
"—Let's have a great match!"
Overwriting the pair's subdued greetings, Nagisa's spirited shout rang out from the table farther down the hall.
Kaito and Mikado paid no heed to the shout, bowing deeply to each other. And with the press of the game clock button by Kaito's hand—the Captain Match commenced.
Though wrapped in a serene atmosphere, Kaito cleanly locked his mind into competitive combat mode.
Move 1, advance the rook pawn. Move 2, open the bishop diagonal. Move 3, push the rook pawn. Move 4, lift the bishop. Followed by ▲P-76, △S-42, ▲Bx33+, △Sx33, ▲S-88—
...Bishop Exchange. So he's not aiming for a Mid-board King right from the start.
The opening phase began with neat, deliberate placements. With an almost unnatural naturalness, Mikado traced established book theory.
Kaito had been on high alert for Mikado's signature Zimetsu Style formation, the Aerial Castle, but Mikado's King showed no sign of moving.
To begin with—could someone even aim for an Entering King after exchanging bishops so early in the opening? The doubt swirled in Kaito's mind.
...I see. So that's how it is.
Even so, Kaito calmly developed his pieces. Mikado, too, played his moves without a single flicker in expression.
Both their games progressed with calm composure, each asserting their own strategic claims, and the first several moves unfolded without any major clash breaking out—
If nothing changed, the game would follow the standard Bishop Exchange line.
It seemed they were dipping their brushes into modern joseki, toes poised to walk a path tread countlessly before.
Yet there was no way a Captain Match would settle for such predictable harmony. On move sixteen from the start, things shifted.
"...!"
The opening, which had been developing as Double Static Rook, transformed into something entirely different with a single move from Kaito. For Mikado, the move carried a heavy sense of déjà vu—it was the exact same strategy he had once deployed in the district tournament.
—A "Feint Roving Rook." A strategy of feigning Static Rook before switching to Roving Rook. While hinting at a Bishop Exchange Climbing Silver, Kaito swiftly pivoted to Roving Rook.
That Bishop Exchange earlier was a light jab to wipe my prep off the board. From the Bishop Exchange, you'd transition into a Right King to claim key vanguards, aiming for an Entering King via a fight on the King's head. If I responded with textbook joseki, you'd apply the lessons from what Tenryu threw at you in the past, turning around to punish my Silver Yagura instead. ...A clever setup.
The kifu from that match against Tenryu had once been placed on the chopping block of cheating allegations. While the public's eyes were fixated on whether the cheating was real, certain shogi analysts eager to dissect Tenryu's play were instead drawn to the prepared novelties Tenryu had unleashed.
A barrage of innovative novelties, almost excessive for a mere district qualifier. Yet now that his opponent was proven to be Zimetsutei, the reasoning behind it was clear. In short, those lines had been powerful enough to corner even the Emperor of Self-Destruction in the prep stage.
—And was there any chance Mikado wouldn't adopt those very moves himself?
Mikado had instantly absorbed the sequence, making it his own so he could handle it at any time. More than that, he wouldn't hesitate to turn around and use it on others.
The opening moves. In that seemingly commonplace exchange spanning just a handful of turns, Kaito had thoroughly seen through it all.
Believing that there was no such thing as a lax moment against this man—there was, in a sense, a form of trust in that.
Sorry, but I'm going to turn that plan against you. I'm not stubbornly attached to the engine's top choice.
Thanks to Kaito's Feint Roving Rook, the game shifted from Double Static Rook to an Opposition Form.
Mikado's advance preparations were swept clean from the slate.
The trap laid specifically because his opponent was an all-rounder was seen through precisely because his opponent was an all-rounder.
The covert maneuvering beneath the surface remained dead even. The Opposing Rook Kaito deployed was built around establishing the skeleton of a Silver Crown Castle before swinging the rook over, differing in several key ways from a standard Direct Opposing Rook.
The most prominent example was that it preemptively shut down Opposing Rook's greatest vulnerability—the counter-drop of ▲B-65.
On top of that, it served as a check against the Aerial Castle, the technique Kaito was on highest guard against—
In most of Zimetsutei's winning records, the evaluation swung dramatically the moment he showed hints of an Entering King.
Kaito kept his eyes over the entire board. Staying within the razor-thin boundary where Mikado couldn't punish him, he constructed his ideal position without misplacing a single piece.
His self-destructive suicide charges might look like an attacking style at first glance. But what he's actually playing is pure defense. He absorbs attacks until the opponent exhausts their options, then plunges into the resulting opening to go for an Entering King.
That was precisely why it was so troublesome. That was precisely why it was so strong.
Shifting the very arena of combat was a strategy that proved effective precisely in modern times, where every joseki was researched to the bone.
Naturally, against an AI churning out perfect moves, it would end as nothing more than an illusion. But against human opponents, not everyone possessed the precision required to punish it flawlessly.
Proof of that lay in the mountain of consecutive wins he had piled up in online shogi. No matter how much one might criticize the content of his games, the undeniable results forced one to acknowledge it as a successful methodology.
In which case, Kaito had to acknowledge the strategy before formulating a countermeasure.
To take it to the extreme, the moment he shows signs of an Entering King, I should consider the game lost. Most players probably only start sweating once Zimetsutei directly initiates the king march, but by then, all hope of winning is already gone. Once it gets that far, you've already stepped right into Zimetsutei's home turf.
Kaito's philosophy was to tackle the problem at its roots.
Preventing the Entering King. Making that the objective in itself was already too late. At the stage where the opponent began laying the path toward an Entering King, you had to sever the path itself. That level of extreme precaution was mandatory.
Which means the phase demanding the deepest calculation isn't the endgame—it's the opening and the midgame.
Five minutes into the match. The water on the board remained completely still. Reflecting the calm demeanor radiating from both players, an opening phase without a single ripple was playing out.
Yet beneath that surface, turbulent undercurrents raged, and Kaito was navigating every single one of them with all his calculative power.
Kaito established a formation pressing down from above Mikado's camp, denying any upward escape route.
Along the way, Mikado pushed a pawn forward in an attempt to stake a claim on key vanguard squares. It was a subtle, light pawn push aimed at facilitating a Mid-board King without drawing suspicion.
Yet Kaito instantly saw through the intent. And every other move—every bridge that might lead to an Entering King—he saw through all of them.
The plans were shattered before they could take shape, and any move that would allow the King to advance to the front lines was snuffed out in advance.
I've fought against all kinds of opponents before becoming an instructor. But this guy...facing him across the board, he's terrifyingly strong.
What Kaito truly evaluated wasn't just Mikado's raw shogi strength—it was the thought process that shaped that strength.
His moves were composed, without a trace of disorder. For someone who relied on such bizarre, idiosyncratic tactics, his play showed zero quirks right up until those tactics surfaced.
In his past kifu on Shogi Wars, his style hadn't been this pristine. Back then, he would choose kamikaze charges toward an Entering King even at the cost of sacrificing evaluation value.
Had he grown this much in such a short span? Or was that just how he played in speed shogi, possessing the ability to switch gears at will?
Kaito couldn't tell. They had never spoken, and he had only learned what kind of person Mikado was today. Even if he sacrificed this entire match, there was no telling if he could drag out everything Watanabe Mikado had to offer.
Yet this was the prefectural tournament. For Kaito and his team, who had fought their way up to this stage through a long campaign, harboring any goal other than victory was strictly forbidden.
While snuffing out Mikado's intentions in advance, Kaito waited patiently for Mikado to show a significant opening.
Mikado propped an elbow on the table, resting his right hand against his temple as he sank into thought.
......He's strong.
Mikado had split his thinking into three parallel threads, calculating lines simultaneously as he crafted his aims, but none of them were bearing fruit.
A chill swept across Mikado's entire body—the same dread he had felt when battling Tenryu, as if every scheme was being seen through completely.
Calling it dead even felt inadequate. Yet the evaluation remained in razor-sharp balance. It was like a tug-of-war where both sides pulled with equal force, locking the rope dead in the center.
Though Kaito was shutting down all of Mikado's aims, he was forced onto the defensive and couldn't easily launch an offensive of his own.
Mikado, for his part, had chances to capitalize on his initiative, only for Kaito to deflect them with breathtaking precision, preventing him from seizing the lead.
Both players had consumed around ten minutes on their clocks. Kaito had 31 minutes and 2 seconds remaining, while Mikado had 29 minutes and 50 seconds.
Though the position had entered the midgame, breaking through into the endgame was still a long, arduous journey away.
...All right.
How many moves ahead had he calculated? Giving a small nod to his own modest scheme, Mikado set about executing the plan he had calculated in that brief span.
He drew his rook back to the bottom rank, preemptively preparing a formation to evade future piece threats, and with that, a series of maneuvers was set into motion.
A Subway Rook concept... No, transitioning from a Silver Skylark into the Castle—a Castle in the Sky...?!
Kaito's expression hardened.
Mikado advanced his silver to support the central vanguard—the only territory he had secured—charting a path to victory across the vast ocean for a King aboard an unstable ark.
A fluid sequence of movements bringing every piece to vibrant life. A castle of sand erected under the name of the Shining Dragon. —The burgeoning presence of the Aerial Castle sent a shudder through Kaito's entire body.
You've finally broken form. To force your ideal formation while being thoroughly suppressed... Did you run out of options? No, is there some hidden trick that makes this work?
The water's surface rippled. Against Kaito, who had shaped his formation on the premise that such a move would never work, Mikado played a move of sheer defiance, declaring that it would.
Barring a reckless gambler, playing such a move in this situation meant there had to be some logic behind it.
Yet Kaito wasn't naive enough to accept Mikado's move at face value just because of that.
Very well. We'll see how it plays out on the board. —Let's duel in calculation, Zimetsutei.
Kaito looked up. Mikado raised his head at the exact same moment. Their eyes met for that single, fleeting instant.
In the next breath, the two unleashed the intricate calculations they had hoarded without holding back a single thread.
The midgame transformed in an instant. Mikado's aim was dismantled relatively cleanly by Kaito. —Or so it seemed for a fleeting moment. A sacrificial pawn push on the rook's file, followed by a rapid volley of pawn drops directly onto the rook's head. Striking, deflecting, dropping a bishop, and promoting it into a Horse. Sweeping in from the opposite flank in a V-shaped trajectory, the Horse reinforced the foothold, breathing life back into a blueprint that should have been utterly crushed.
As if he had anticipated every move from the very beginning, Mikado continued playing without pausing for a single beat of thought.
It was masterclass technique that seemed to hold the entire board in the palm of his hand. —Yet Kaito had known full well that Mikado would attempt such a maneuver.
Anticipating the shift in direction, Kaito had calculated the material balance with pinpoint precision. Four pawns in total. By dedicating every single one to defense, he had a setup that could perfectly shut down Mikado's onslaught.
Be it a gold general or a major piece, everything was forced to retreat before a well-supported pawn. The only things capable of breaking through were minor pieces prepared to throw away their lives.
Kaito exhausted his pawns without waste, finally suppressing Mikado's vanguard square from above. The battle reverted to a tense standoff, settling into a state where whoever struck first would only worsen their position.
—Having successfully engineered the position to leave Kaito "pawnless," Mikado pulled off a shocking pivot, beginning a transition into a Bear-in-the-Hole Castle.
Abandoning the Aerial Castle that was supposed to soar into the sky, Mikado lifted his edge lance, signaling a deep fortress on the bottom ranks. Seeing that, Kaito instantly pushed a pawn in his own camp without spending a second, aiming to blow the battle wide open.
In a mutual deadlock, defensive moves took precedence over offensive ones. Because Kaito had already built his formation all the way up to a Silver Crown to execute his opening Feint Roving Rook, developing his castle any further was practically impossible.
Mikado, by contrast, still had an incomplete formation and castle. In other words, his castle possessed room to develop.
I can't let him build an Bear-in-the-Hole Castle here— The instant Mikado saw the pawn Kaito pushed with that thought, he abandoned the Bear-in-the-Hole Castle and surged forward as if he had been waiting for that exact move.
He had turned Kaito's own move against him.
The pawn Kaito had leveled to suppress his opponent was spent as a sacrificial opening push. Kaito had broken the deadlock with his own hands—no, he had been manipulated into doing so.
With this, Mikado successfully cracked Kaito's defensive line by force. Gripping the single ray of hope he had seized from beyond deep calculations, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
—Yet it was Kaito who actually smiled.
That aim falls well within my calculations. Check your math, Zimetsutei. With those lost tempos—my attack will arrive in time.
Two moves. Feigning a transition to Bear-in-the-Hole Castle and breaking out had cost Mikado two full tempos. In exchange for pushing his own agenda, he had also invited Kaito's offensive.
The leeway created on the right flank was carried over to the left. Breaching the rook's file with a textbook tactical blow, Kaito promoted his advanced pawn and invaded Mikado's headquarters.
After a protracted midgame, the right flank finally collapsed.
Having countered every single move from start to finish, Kaito pressed his attack, crumbling Mikado's offensive line.
You've finally shown an opening—
With this—
Normally, a player would mount at least the bare minimum defense even while abandoning a sector of the battlefield. Maneuvering to avoid falling behind in material and maintaining parity heading into the endgame was the fundamental approach.
Yet far from defending, Mikado pushed the pawn directly in front of his King's head, abandoning the left flank entirely.
It all happened in the midst of the offensive. The exact moment an attacker feels the tactile rush of breaking through the enemy's defenses is precisely when their own defense is at its most careless.
Cherry blossom petals danced and drifted down—
The defensive gold generals had "coincidentally" gathered around Mikado's King; the suppressed Horse had "coincidentally" retained extensive coverage over the left flank; and the rook pulled to the bottom rank was "coincidentally" positioned to connect to the King's path in a single move.
I won't let him build his castle. The very actions Kaito had taken under that conviction were what had paved the way to that formation.
Was this truly a "coincidence"—?
The true blueprint of Zimetsu Style did not exist visibly on the board. No matter how thoroughly one examined the opening or midgame, it was said that one could never locate the true starting point of Mikado's Entering King.
The castle simply materialized out of nowhere, and the roads leading to it were already built before anyone realized.
By the time you noticed, it was already too late. The deduction Kaito had made in advance was undeniably correct. And precisely because it was correct, it was bound to manifest as reality.
—Zimetsu Style: Aerial Castle was about to reveal itself.
—Or so it was supposed to.
The detour point...is right here.
Kaito halted his assault, abruptly pivoting to reinforce the defenses of his own camp.
"Ghk...!"
At that, Mikado made a grimace so blatant it showed clearly on his face—a scowl so sour it marked the first time in the match he had visibly lost his composure.
The sound of his piece striking the board was just a fraction louder than before.
Their clash erupted near the heavens of the board, and Mikado's hand finally froze, his eyes wide in disbelief.
—I told you. You've finally shown an opening.
What Kaito had done was an eccentric maneuver: the instant an opening to attack arose, he suddenly began fortifying his own defense.
Abandoning the right flank he had already breached, Kaito poured a mass of minor pieces into reinforcing his own camp.
The sector spanning from the left flank to the center only grew thicker and sturdier, a process he pursued relentlessly until an escape became "impossible."
...He shut down the King's Head battle.
Mikado tilted his head toward the ceiling. The exhaustion in his brain drifted quietly from his lips as a slow exhale.
Mikado's greatest weapon and singular objective—the Entering King—had been completely thwarted.
Springing it the moment Kaito breached the right flank was a trap that every previous opponent would have slumbered through without ever noticing.
Yet Kaito had calculated it through to the end. With timing so immaculate it was as if he had known the trap was coming before it was even set, he had parried Mikado's King's Head battle.
There was no need to rush in and hoard treasures. The right flank was already in ruins.
First and foremost, shut down Mikado's Entering King, then take his time ravaging the shattered right flank.
Breaching the right flank in the first place had been done solely to scoop up knights and lances to repurpose for defense. And the trigger for that right-flank breakthrough had been Mikado's own action of sacrificing his rook pawn to drop his bishop.
Self-destruction at its peak. No matter how potent heresy may be, it's heresy all the same.
Unclear who the words were meant for, Kaito overlapped Mikado's moves with someone else's, condemning them with outright rejection.
What shogi required was rationality. Never love or sentiment.
◇
A few years ago—on an early summer holiday, just past seven in the morning.
Morning sunlight streaming through the sliding door of Tennoji Dojo cast long shadows across the polished wooden floor.
Gensui sat alone in the center of the dojo, opening an aged book before a shogi board.
On holidays, the doors of Tennoji Dojo were unlocked from seven in the morning. Yet there was no sign of anyone coming.
Listening to the chirping of birds, he cast his eyes down at the book containing positions he had memorized ages ago. Recreating the positions on the board, exploring variations, and eventually resetting them back to the start—that was Gensui's daily routine.
Up until a few months ago, he would occasionally glance toward the entrance. Lately, however, he rarely bothered.
Because no one was coming anyway.
The silence filling the dojo was no longer a novelty to Gensui. In a space where a board and a book were all he needed, he even felt that any further noise was unnecessary.
—Creak, groaned the staircase.
Coming down from the second floor, Kaito slid open the dojo door and walked in.
Scanning the empty dojo, taking in the bleak emptiness that practically drew a stifled yawn from his throat, Kaito spoke to Gensui's back.
"—You that fond of listening to the cuckoos call in an empty dojo, Old Man?"
"The cuckoo is also known as the summoning bird, you know. When it calls, people will surely come again."
To Gensui, who had answered without missing a beat, Kaito let out a faint sigh and walked around the dojo. He went about closing the windows Gensui had opened earlier for ventilation, completing his daily routine.
His chores finished, Kaito glanced at Gensui's board and let out an exasperated breath—again?
"Kusui's unsolved puzzle again? Even if you decipher something like that, you won't gain a thing."
"Indeed. You won't gain anything tangible. But you will gain meaning."
"And what are you gonna do with meaning?"
"Understand it, be satisfied, and close the book. That is all."
Gensui stated simply.
The true intent of Kusui Ryujin that remained unsolved to this day. Now, it could only be gleaned from books written by people out of mere curiosity.
Much like debating a person's life through philosophy, perhaps there was something there that logic alone could never solve.
Even so, what good did unraveling it do? If it couldn't be explained by logic, one could neither replicate nor truly comprehend it—such was Kaito's frank belief.
Gensui stared intently at the board. How many months and years had passed in search of a variation? A new move seemed to have dried up completely, remaining elusive.
"Kusui Ryujin was loved by shogi. Endlessly, and more than anyone else."
The words muttered quietly were the very praise that had been showered upon Kusui Ryujin in his heyday.
Even during post-match reviews where the winning factor should have been obvious, no one could pinpoint it. He simply won, somehow. Was it a matter of stylistic matchup, or did he possess a talent for playing in a way that made opponents blunder? The reason was unknown.
He won simply because he was loved by shogi—concluding with that, strangely enough, brought closure to everyone.
"Those kinds of anecdotes follow every great figure around. It's just convenient deification after the fact. —Besides, what does being 'loved by shogi' even mean? Chalking up a win to 'love' or whatever throws logic straight out the window."
"There were many matches like that."
"Are you saying the move in that book was played because he was loved, too?"
"Indeed."
"Ridiculous."
Sitting across the board from Gensui, Kaito began clearing the pieces from the edge, resetting the board back to the starting position.
Gensui, too, silently cleared the position, setting up the pieces to prepare for a match.
Between the two of them, that had been the unchanging routine since long ago.
"Being loved is a talent. Wishing for it will not make it so."
"I think I understand that plenty well. In shogi, talent talks. I didn't have talent, so reaching 5-Dan took me quite a lot of toil."
"You were just one step away."
"...Yeah. But that was the result of giving it everything I had. I'm reasonably satisfied with it. That's why I came home to take a breather."
"I see."
Having moved to Tokyo for university, Kaito had locked horns with countless formidable amateurs residing there.
Just how serious he had been, even Kaito himself couldn't say. Just one more year, just one more chance. The struggle to seize his opportunity had ultimately fallen short at the very end.
—Today was only the second day since Kaito had returned to this place.
Neither lamenting nor venting complaints, simply accepting reality as it was. That hadn't changed since he was a boy.
Gensui wanted to offer even a single word of comfort, but theirs was not that kind of father-son relationship.
"..."
His own aged hands, which he had no desire to look at, entered his view every time he grasped a piece. Though there was a time he had been hailed as part of a generation of prodigies, in the end, Gensui had never reached the same heights as them.
Talent withering away, fog settling over his thoughts—he quietly pulled back his hand, a hand he had looked upon countless times while tormented by the inexorable reality of aging.
"—Say, Kaito. Do you have any interest in taking over this dojo?"
"What?"
Startled, Kaito halted his hand. Beside him, on his turn, his time on the game clock continued to tick away.
Even so, Kaito remained frozen without pausing the clock.
"...Did you get tired of it?"
"That's part of it. I've been doing this for a long time, after all. ...But I also wanted to see my son grow a little."
"You think I have the talent to teach?"
"I wouldn't know. The talent for instruction depends on chemistry with the student. The real test begins when someone appears who looks up to you as a master."
"You're seriously considering retirement...?"
Exasperated, Kaito returned his hand to the board.
Talking about future matters like retirement and disciples was rare for Gensui, and an air of amusement seemed to hang about him.
"Right, about the students we'll recruit—if possible, a young girl would be nice."
"Is that your thing now?"
"Fool, you know full well what my dream is."
"I'm joking. It's a pipedream anyway. Even if I were to teach, it's not like that would make it come true."
Kaito answered with an air of reluctant resignation.
"You really have neither hope nor motivation, do you? Or what? Did you find some good job somewhere?"
"Urgh."
At Gensui's words, Kaito averted his gaze for a split second.
"...That stings. It's not like I don't want to work."
"You still have lingering feelings for shogi, don't you?"
"..."
"Then keep at it until those regrets are gone. Besides, this dojo's empty right now. Opportunities to sit across the board from a young girl don't come around every day, you know?"
"I don't have that kind of hobby. —Honestly, you're unusually talkative today."
Even as they traded light banter, the situation on the board grew increasingly fierce. Kaito was on the back foot. No, he was being completely suppressed.
If anything, Kaito was inwardly overwhelmed by Gensui's sheer prowess to corner him this far while casually carrying on a conversation.
Had this been Tennoji Gensui in his prime, how effortlessly would he have swept Kaito aside? Kaito couldn't even begin to imagine.
"Hey, Dad. Why are you so strong?"
The question slipped from Kaito's lips out of pure curiosity. He didn't expect a real answer, yet faced with such overwhelming strength, he couldn't help asking.
"...You want to know?"
"Yeah, I do. Don't tell me it's because you're 'loved by shogi' or some answer that just boils down to natural talent."
Sensing that was the kind of reply he might get, Kaito made a point of heading it off in advance.
"Oho, you're close. You understand me well."
"Close to what? ...Look, stop defining strength by things outside a person's control. I'm not Kusui Ryujin, you know."
Finding it a hassle to even touch his losing position on the board, Kaito directed his attention more toward the conversation than the match.
"I have no intention of saying something so heartless."
"Then what is it?"
Gensui let out a breath.
Looking up at the framed plaque inscribed with Tennoji at the very back of the dojo, Gensui muttered while applying a threatmate against Kaito.
"Limitless curiosity, Kaito. —Do you love shogi?"
◇
Kaito had completely shut down Mikado's Aerial Castle.
Escape toward the top of the board was impossible, leaving no opening for an Entering King. Anticipating that Mikado would still try to force his King in regardless, Kaito concentrated his entire calculation on his own territory.
I can't say... I've won yet. It's too early to assume the tide of battle is decided just because I sealed off his strategy. —Which means this is where the real, raw brawl begins.
Putting the time from Mikado's prolonged pause to good use, Kaito weighed all the various lines of attack Mikado might take.
He couldn't tell the gap in their abilities—whether he was inferior or superior. At the very least, Kaito knew assuming he was the underdog would lead to greater certainty.
If Mikado did nothing, Kaito could secure an easy victory simply by leisurely developing the right side of the board.
However, that wasn't how things would play out. A vivid picture of Mikado rampaging with every trick at his disposal rose clearly before Kaito's eyes.
—In which case, what awaited them was a King's Head battle where their respective footholds clashed. Mikado would scheme to lure Kaito into a trap and engineer an escape into the upper ranks.
It wouldn't be a move rooted in the theoretical best, but a disguised move cloaking a dubious play in the guise of an optimal one. The very method of a gambler that Kaito loathed above all else.
I'm not a genius like the folks at Gaisen. I probably can't parry everything you throw at me. But on a board like this, with almost no hidden twists and not even a hint of complexity—I can read every single variation.
Five minutes, six minutes, seven minutes. Mikado's deep think—his first in this match—stretched on.
The timing of his pause was impeccable. Whether to instill the dread of the unknown in Kaito or to avoid a position that would otherwise head toward a straightforward resolution, this was the only moment to spend his clock time.
Impressive, Kaito marveled inwardly. Even as he admired it, he continued calculating how to finish Mikado off.
Eight minutes, nine minutes—just before ten full minutes ticked away, Mikado's hand finally moved.
Come on, then.
Kaito pushed his already rolled-up sleeves past his elbows.
Now that a gap in allotted time had opened, Mikado's onslaught would likely incorporate a clock attack as well. Kaito had to deflect it with everything he had.
Kaito watched intently as that opening move was played.
"...Huh?"
—For a moment, Gensui's words flickered through Kaito's mind.
Or was it his opponent who had come to prove it—?
Mikado lightly dropped a Pawn on the right wing.
It was a move meant purely to prevent a Rook promotion, and nothing more.
What...? What's his aim...?
Kaito's gaze was drawn toward the board.
Ignoring the attack on his Silver, he had essentially dropped to his knees in the middle of a chaotic battlefield. Mikado hadn't just abandoned the King's Head battle; without even taking pieces he could capture, he had belatedly defended against the right-wing assault with a Pawn.
That act—sometimes called "apologizing"—was a move played when someone had run out of all other options and resorted to dealing with their opponent's threats. In shogi, where moves were meant to carry multiple underlying intents, it was seen as a desperate measure with only a single purpose.
Kaito's mind grew bewildered at a judgment that could easily be seen as a blunder. Then, as if his instincts screamed that things couldn't stay like this, he cleared away the Pawn on the left flank near the King's Head without spending a second, resolving the threat to his Silver.
While played rather hastily, it was simply too natural a move to resolve his pawn shortage and the threat to his Silver.
At that, Mikado pulled his Horse to the right flank, committing entirely to defending his camp.
No way... Is he doing this for real...?
By the third move, Kaito finally understood.
Mikado's aim—no, he had no aim at all. He had simply yielded to Kaito's flawless defense, acknowledged it, and backed down.
This wasn't a matter of branching into an even split. A position on the verge of the endgame had completely transformed with Kaito's defense against Entering King and Mikado's abandonment of the King's Head battle. A game racing toward its conclusion had been reset to square one, reducing the board to what could only be called an opening state.
Hey... !?
Kaito looked at Mikado in utter disbelief.
Being at a loss for words didn't begin to cover it. The madness of it was enough to drive someone insane.
Yet, while Mikado showed signs of physical exhaustion, there wasn't a trace of distress or agony over the state of the board on his face.
Not only did he give up on Entering King, but he's not even going to contest the game...? If we play at such a glacial pace, what happens to the endgame...?
—At that moment, Kaito felt it.
...Wait, did I just... dread this...?
His hand stopped, his thoughts stopped, his breath stopped. Even with the most potent offensive tools conceivable, there was no way to transition into the endgame from here.
What awaited at the end of an equal calculation was equal exhaustion. Kaito had continued to out-calculate Mikado, earning a clear advantage significant enough to sway the evaluation.
His mental fatigue far exceeded Mikado's. The wretched lethargy weighing down his entire body offered no courage to rise to his feet once more.
No, that's not it...
Gensui's words filled his mind.
Staring into empty space, Kaito desperately tried to deny it.
Even though he had masked it in logic just to deny it—
"The difference in strength in shogi is decided by where you cut off your calculation. When people play or think in shogi, they invariably cut off their reading somewhere. It's an ironclad rule to avoid difficult or complex positions that are exhausting to calculate, and instead guide the game into setups that are easy for you to read. —Isn't that right?"
More than half of the raw ability known as calculation was built on experience. Therefore, strength also meant how many board patterns one could commit to memory.
The act of calculating was inherently accompanied by anguish and pain. Continuing to read for the entirety of one's allotted time was a kind of fantasy. Just as one relied on joseki in the wide-open opening, choosing the easier path was only human nature.
Gensui had dismissed that outright.
"—Why would someone who loves shogi ever cut off their calculation?"
Back then, Kaito couldn't answer that question.
No, he still couldn't answer it now.
Turning a blind eye to Gensui's belatedly remembered words, Kaito pressed on with his offensive.
There was no time to think about counter-strategies for Entering King. He had to think with everything he had just to keep from letting his advantage slip.
His brain screamed, begging him to stop calculating. Even so, Kaito shook his head in denial within his heart.
Both of their clocks were in the tens of minutes, with Mikado's about to dip below ten minutes.
Skirmishes in the middlegame continued across the board. Kaito's minor pieces were concentrated near Mikado's King's head, meaning if he wanted to strike, he would have to initiate the King's Head battle himself.
Having avoided that until now, attacking in haste would defeat the entire purpose. Factoring that in as well, Kaito focused on attack routes centered along the Rook's path, accepting that slow and steady would do.
I'm not running away. I'm still calculating right now...!
—Deceiving himself once again. Inwardly, Kaito was still shaking his head.
"Is shogi just running from distasteful positions, avoiding challenges you dislike, and forcing convenient developments on one another? Heh, sure, if you can steer things into a convenient position, you can win. —Win if you are loved. That is how Kusui Ryujin, beloved by shogi, has always won. —Then what should those unloved by shogi do?"
Kaito realized it. To the point where he wondered why he hadn't noticed until now, the answer was held by the boy right in front of him.
Even now, he was playing with genuine delight from the bottom of his heart.
The things that frightened Kaito, who had devoted thousands and tens of thousands of hours to shogi, held no terror for this boy.
"Well, Kaito? How much do you love shogi? How much do you cherish it? When facing developments inconvenient to yourself—even if hated by shogi—do you have the resolve to love shogi regardless?"
Logic was merely the flip side of true intention.
If it became an Entering King battle, he couldn't beat Zimetsutei. Allowing that to an opponent who specialized in Entering King made no rational sense. That was why he had focused all his efforts on preventing it.
—The true motive was that he simply didn't want to fight an Entering King battle.
A simple reason. A simple desire. What arrogance it was to fabricate logic just to conceal that.
With every move Mikado dealt, Kaito felt the quality of his calculation degrading. That the result of reading with everything he had was an endless overtime was reason enough for his focus to crumble.
In contrast, Mikado was playing his moves with sheer joy.
As if Kaito were helping usher him to the threshold of madness, Mikado's eyes sparkled brilliantly, like a boy discovering the unknown.
For Mikado, this was an unprecedented experience. While a position might settle down to some degree, playing the Zimetsu style inevitably stirred up a chaotic brawl. Experiencing the opening phase twice without a repetition draw was normally impossible.
This was, in a sense, the worst possible position, born precisely because Kaito had gone all-out to prevent an Entering King.
This is what I wanted to see...
Mikado directed a tender, embracing smile toward the board.
He had finally arrived at the position he envisioned in his mind. He had hoped for other variations, but he had hoped for this one too. —No, anything and everything was welcome.
To Mikado, the Zimetsu style was absolute. If he knew it would be shut down, he simply needed to aim for a form that couldn't be stopped.
He hadn't found a line for a repetition draw. Nor was there a way to force a King's Head battle to enter king.
Then all he had to do was start everything over from scratch.
What was a lost Silver in the grand scheme? A defending Horse was worth three Gold and Silvers. If anything, wasn't it a gain? Ironically, it was only now that Kaito understood Mikado's borderline insane line of thought.
It was a supremely simple conclusion.
Yes, a truly simple conclusion.
—Since he loved shogi, there was no way calculating could ever feel painful.
No matter the position, an inquisitive spirit eager to read the next move with affection resided there.
If asked why he could do that, one only had to repeat the very first answer.
Is my brain stalling its calculations, and am I suffering so much from your moves, because I don't love shogi...? Because I'm not purely enjoying playing the game...?
To Kaito, shogi was a part of his life. While he lacked the confidence to declare that back then, that feeling had undoubtedly grown stronger now.
Even if one couldn't become a professional, anyone was capable of harboring grand ambition.
Even now—the frustration of falling short of the boy before him burned deep within his heart.
...Don't look down on me, King of the West—
Or—if "that hypothesis" was correct—
There's no damn way... I'd ever abandon my calculations halfway through—!!
Kaito was supposed to love shogi—more than anyone.
"...?!"
A sudden strike. Kaito, who had been diligently developing his Rook's path, completely abandoned the right wing and pushed a Pawn near Mikado's King's head, abruptly launching a full-scale assault.
Kaito had initiated the very King's Head battle he had gone to such lengths to avoid.
Startled as Mikado was by the sudden shift in tactics, in the next instant, he gleefully entered into the fray around the King's head.
Kaito didn't stop either. He couldn't stop. His brain finally discarded its limiters, stringing together every single calculation in a realm of absolute omnipotence.
With the King's Head clash underway, the board plummeted straight into the endgame. Both clocks ran dry, plunging them into byoyomi—yet neither cared in the slightest.
As if clock time were completely irrelevant, both players executed their forty-second intervals within ten seconds, forcing clock pressure upon each other.
Is this the world you've been seeing, Zimetsutei—?!
Kaito chased fiercely from right behind Mikado's madness-tinged calculation.
To hell with Entering King. He would let him enter and checkmate him anyway—placing full trust in his own ability, Kaito expanded the scale of his calculations.
Igniting his cool reasoning into a blazing fire, Kaito's playstyle commanded a terrifyingly complete view of the entire board.
Both his positional judgment and the depth of his reading were transcending the boundaries of ordinary mortals.
Ah, I knew it...
Mikado took a deep breath, dropping his gaze from the ceiling back down to the board.
...He's strong!
That joyful exclamation was conveyed to Kaito through the very moves on the board.
There are so many candidate moves, I can hardly choose. But whatever move I play, it looks like fun. Isn't that right—Watanabe Mikado?!
Their divergent words aligned once more.
Kaito chose not to promote his Rook when he could have, deliberately leaving it unpromoted in his own camp. By doing so, he set up a state where its horizontal line of attack would checkmate Mikado if Mikado entered king.
Naturally noticing this, Mikado feigned giving up on Entering King for a moment. Faced with the choice of falling into the trap or quietly retreating, Kaito's chosen answer was to boldly enter king himself without hesitation.
It was a surprise maneuver aimed at completely subverting Mikado's calculation, but Mikado countered with an astounding sequence. Unleashing an exquisite move by sacrificing a Gold directly into the line of Kaito's pieces, the evaluation instantly flipped. —And naturally, Kaito had calculated that very response to the end.
What he wanted, even at the cost of the evaluation, was to keep his own King from being entangled in Mikado's King's Head fight. To ensure he avoided a sudden, blundering mate at all costs, he steered his King away from the battlefield in advance. Even such calm, collected judgment was well within Kaito's grasp now.
Mikado shared the same goal. If the position remained poor, even achieving Entering King would make it difficult to checkmate Kaito. Mikado had crafted a strategy to accomplish his own objective by capitalizing on his opponent's intent—all in a mere forty seconds.
Their calculations intertwined.
A move scooped from a melting pot where every conceivable variation mingled.
Let you enter king and checkmate you anyway. You've read that I'm reading that. Even knowing that, I will still mate you—!
Kaito sprang forward before Mikado could.
Whether he had enough material in hand to deliver checkmate was uncertain. He hadn't plunged into this from a simple position where the answer was obvious.
A race to checkmate mid-board Kings. Forced onto defense, Mikado focused all his senses on his King's escape, using whatever reserves he had left to threaten mate against Kaito's King.
Along the way, Mikado craftily played a move that forced Kaito to spend one of his Pawns. Deeming a mere Pawn practically worthless in this endgame, Kaito paid it no heed, clearing it from his stand to continue delivering checks.
Under threatmate, Kaito wagered everything solely on attack with the intensity of someone throwing his own life away.
So long as he could mate Mikado's King, victory was his—casting aside all defense, he assaulted with body and soul.
"—!"
Mikado's expression turned terrifyingly intense. Kaito's brain accelerated. Only the familiar chime of the byoyomi countdown reached his ears; everything else had faded into absolute silence.
The instant he handed the turn back to Mikado for even a single move, Kaito's defeat would be sealed. Having chased the King, he had to pursue it to the bitter end.
Surrounding the area were four Knights and a Bishop, a chaotic web of piece lines assaulting Mikado.
"Tch...!"
Mikado's King dashed through the jungle of Knights like Tarzan. Chasing its back, Kaito dropped Gold generals in a relentless string of direct checks.
Though out of reach for now, dubious lines of attack would bare their fangs a few moves later. The final destination was checkmate delivered by that Gold.
Mikado maneuvered his King to evade them. Amid hundreds of possible sequences until the checks ran out, he fled at top speed toward the single correct path.
Kaito pulled back his Dragon, promoted somewhere along the way, cutting off the path of retreat. Mikado's King moved. Kaito's Silver pursued. Mikado moved. Kaito pursued.
Pursuing, pursuing, cornering him—
A pincer encirclement surrounding the King was complete.
With this, I'm not mated—!!
With this, he's mated—!!
Their thoughts intersected.
He lost count of how many dozens of checks had been played. Kaito's checks continued until his overflowing piece stand was emptied entirely.
Even after it emptied, he used the pieces on the board to corner him right to the brink of a mating net.
Cornered, cornered—he was supposed to have cornered him—
There were no allied pieces anywhere near Mikado's King; all that surrounded it were a few of Kaito's minor pieces and his Dragon.
The position was—just three moves away from mate.
Dammit... Just one more piece! If only I had one more Pawn...!
As close as humanly possible. What lay there was Kaito's completely bare piece stand, without a single Pawn remaining—
With just one more Pawn, Mikado's King would have been mated in three moves.
That was the very Pawn he had been craftily forced to spend back then.
Back then... Did he calculate all the way to this point even then...?!
It was hard to believe. Making every single piece on the board carry meaning, aiming for that outcome—it required a positional judgment beyond normal comprehension.
Yet Kaito understood—that was the very brilliance of the Shining Dragon.
"A total defeat... I resign."
With nothing left to grasp on the stand, Kaito gripped its edge and bowed his head.
Mikado bowed deeply in return.
"Thank you very much for the game."
—Before they knew it, faint applause rippled from the onlookers. Perhaps stunned by the intense battle between captains, only a few dry claps could be heard relative to the size of the crowd.
When Mikado slowly lifted his head, Kaito, who had looked up first, was extending a hand toward him.
A shadow fell across half the board.
"—Let's meet here on the board again."
"—Yes."
This time, the entire board was draped in shadow.
◇
With the match between the West and South Districts concluded, players began leaving their seats.
The result was a six-to-one victory for the West District. Aside from claiming a single win against Raizaki, the South District had suffered total defeat.
"Well then, guess I'll soak in the hot springs before heading back."
Packing his bags with a refreshed expression, Kaito spotted Nagisa still sitting frozen in her chair in the adjacent row.
Seeing their South District teammates casting worried glances her way, Kaito gave them a reassuring nod, then scooped up Nagisa's luggage with his free hand.
"Nuuu... Nuuu..."
Emitting bizarre groans while clenching both fists to hold back her tears of frustration, Nagisa felt Kaito lightly pat her head.
"Let's go."
"...Yes."
Sniffling loudly, Nagisa rose from her seat, bowed to Aoi resting across the table, and took her leave.
Aoi watched her retreating back as well.
"...The South District was tough, huh?"
"Yeah."
Stepping up beside her, Takebayashi spoke as he skimmed through the game records of each member he had received from Aoi.
Aoi had compiled the game records of all club members who played against the South District, logging them into the club's tablet.
It was for their post-match review session during club activities at a later date.
"Looks like Watanabe-kun fought quite the fierce battle as well."
"I mean, beating the master of Tennoji Dojo is crazy big, right? Captain, do you know what that guy's track record is?"
"National Amateur Ryuo runner-up from an out-of-prefecture branch. ...If Gaisen Dojo weren't here, he'd be the runaway favorite to win the whole thing!"
"...Did you tell Mikado-cchi that?"
"I didn't!"
Takebayashi answered with a proud smirk.
"Haa... He's gonna be shocked when he hears about it later."
"Information that merely highlights accolades is meaningless. It only serves to intimidate. Besides, Watanabe-kun experienced that strength firsthand on the board. Even if he hears about his achievements, I doubt he'll be surprised. —More importantly..."
Stroking his chin, Takebayashi looked down at the results recorded on the tablet.
In Raizaki's result column was a black circle marking defeat.
"Is Raizaki-kun still not a morning person? Rumor had it her game had stepped up lately, though..."
"Well, Raika-cchi's form has crazy ups and downs, y'know? Hope she isn't bottling things up all alone again... Tojo-senpai, where's Raika-cchi?"
"Mm."
Tojo jutted her chin toward the outside of the venue. Following her gaze, Aoi saw Raizaki walking alone down a deserted hallway leading outside.
"She sure loves the outdoors. Practically photosynthesizing like a plant. Want Aoi to go check on her?"
"Leave her be. She probably threw the match on purpose after seeing who her next opponent was."
Sakuma Kaito's exasperated voice chimed in from the side.
Aoi turned around with deadpan eyes. Watching what he had been shoveling endlessly into his mouth, Hayato, seated back-to-back with him, wore a half-exasperated look as well.
"Kaito-cchi, what've you been stuffing your face with this whole time?"
"Onsen manju."
"Those are the ones you bought as souvenirs, right...?"
"This is my fourth."
"Didn't ask."
His brain drained from the match against the South District and crying out for sugar, Kaito proceeded with his glucose replenishment in all seriousness.
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