The afternoon sun dipped low behind the distant mountains, casting a golden hue over the rural rooftops. A soft breeze stirred the hydrangeas blooming by the walkway, brushing lightly against the wind chimes hanging from the eaves. Inside the small yard of the Hinatsuru Ryokan, Kiyotaki Keika sat quietly on the engawa, brows knit in quiet concern.
Yukima Azuma stood beside her, casually sipping a barley tea that had long gone lukewarm. After a moment of silence, he glanced down at her with a gentle smile.
"You know," he began, "there's an official tournament this year—the Queen tournament. As long as you make it to the main bracket, you'll get promoted straight to Joryu."
He offered it like hope in a sentence, his voice brimming with certainty. "Keika-nee, you'll definitely get in. Who knows? Before this year's over, you might officially be Joryu."
At that, Kiyotaki Keika let out a short, bitter laugh.
"If only it were that easy."
Her voice was light, but it carried years of buried frustration. She didn't need to explain further—Azuma already knew. She'd participated in the Queen tournament before. More than once. But every time, she failed to make it past the preliminaries. Not because she lacked skill—but because she lacked something else. Something harder to define.
"You're too optimistic," she murmured. "Shogi doesn't hand out miracles just because you want them."
Azuma smiled faintly, then leaned in and whispered like he was revealing a great national secret.
"Well… what if I said I had a surefire way for you to win?"
Keika blinked. "Hah?"
The moment she realized what he meant, her eyes widened—and she shook her head violently.
"That's cheating!"
"The pros wouldn't see it that way," Azuma replied, still calm. "It's not like I'm giving you moves mid-match. I'm just saying… I could help you prepare some opening sequences. You study your opponents' habits, plan a few traps. Just like Kajin-san did with the Meijin."
"But that's…" Keika hesitated.
She knew Azuma wasn't wrong. Plenty of top-level players studied prearranged sequences, especially when targeting specific opponents. Even Kajin had nearly steamrolled Azuma using that method. If she had openings designed by Azuma—one of the top minds of his generation—then beating those rookies who hadn't even touched the Joryu threshold would be like flipping a page.
Still…
"No," she said again, quietly but firmly.
"It doesn't feel right. If I won that way, it wouldn't be my victory."
Azuma tilted his head, watching her carefully. Then, without warning, he smiled.
"Isn't that proof enough?"
Keika blinked again.
"That you can refuse my absolute winning method—means you've found your own way to victory."
She stared at him, stunned. Her heart thudded once, oddly loud in the quiet evening.
My own way to victory…
Those words echoed inside her like a bell.
Had she really been so lacking all this time? Or had she just lacked belief? Since childhood, her shogi had always been strong—but life kept tripping her just before the finish line. One failure after another until she started to doubt herself with every small misstep. But now…
Azuma walked behind her and gave her back a firm pat.
Keika yelped in surprise, jolting upright.
"Keika-nee!" Azuma scolded playfully. "What kind of shogi posture is that? You've got to straighten your back!"
She immediately turned, puffing out her cheeks as she reached for him in protest. He dodged effortlessly.
"Tch, don't lecture me like I'm some kind of middle schooler!"
"Then stop slouching like one!"
Keika chased him around the small yard, hair fluttering as she abandoned all traces of twenty-five-year-old composure. For a few minutes, she wasn't a struggling Joryu hopeful. She wasn't a mature senpai or a distant older sister.
She was just a girl—laughing, running, chasing someone important to her.
Eventually, their impromptu game of tag brought them to a small park nearby, quiet and bathed in the warm glow of sunset. The swing creaked softly as Keika sat down and caught her breath.
Azuma leaned against the swing's frame, arms folded.
"You know," Keika said, glancing at him sideways, "how are things between you and Ginko-chan?"
Azuma blinked. "What kind of sudden question is that?"
"Don't 'what kind of question' me," she said, grinning. "I've watched the two of you grow up. Even a blind grandma could tell Ginko's liked you forever."
He scratched his cheek sheepishly. "Well… we're not there yet. But maybe next year, when she moves to Tokyo, things'll start moving faster."
Keika laughed.
"Honestly, it's your fault. Back then, you were always teasing her. Poor girl was always sulking."
Azuma chuckled, remembering those chaotic childhood days.
"I still remember that time a Russian girl transferred into our district," Keika said mischievously. "And somehow, you'd learned Russian from somewhere and kept talking to her every day."
Azuma winced. "Oh no, not this story."
"Yep," Keika said, smirking. "Ginko-chan just sat in the shogi club all by herself, arms crossed and looking ready to kill."
Azuma groaned.
"She didn't even say anything when I asked if she was mad," he muttered. "She just nodded. I thought I fixed it when I made her laugh… but then I ran off again, and when I came home—BAM!—she kicked me in the butt."
"⁽⁽(੭ꐦ •̀Д•́ )੭*⁾⁾ That's exactly the face she made!" Keika said, cracking up.
Azuma looked annoyed. "That was your fault, Keika-nee. You were right there, and you just laughed! You didn't even warn me!"
"I wasn't your babysitter!" she defended.
"I would've listened if you'd said something. Back then, I liked you the most."
The words slipped out so smoothly that Keika didn't register them at first.
Then her cheeks turned crimson.
"…W-What?" she stammered.
"I liked Keika-nee," Azuma said again with a grin. "Back then, I had a thing for onee-sans. You were my type."
Keika's heart skipped two beats. Her head practically buzzed.
(づ>/////<)づ♡
Why is this kid suddenly flirting like it's nothing?
She had always seen him as a younger brother. But that younger brother had grown into a man far too dangerous. Handsome. Kind. Smart. Confident. If Azuma ever seriously confessed, she doubted any woman would be immune—not even her.
To hide her flustered state, she narrowed her eyes.
"You definitely made me mad back then."
"I call you Keika-nee, so you're obligated to forgive me. That's the older sister code."
"Hmph. If I wasn't generous, I wouldn't have begged Ginko-chan to let you back in after she kicked you out."
"Eh? Oba-san kicked shishou out of the room?" a small voice chimed in.
Both Azuma and Keika turned in shock.
At some point, three girls had arrived—Hinatsuru Ai, Sora Ginko, and Sainokami Ika.
Sora Ginko's face turned slightly red.
"T-That was in the past!"
Keika snickered. "Back when Ai-chan's shishou was about her height. He said something dumb, and Ginko kicked him out."
Hinatsuru Ai gasped and bolted over to Azuma, clinging tightly to his arm.
"Ginko-oba-san is so scary! If it were me, I'd never kick shishou out of the room!"
(˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Sora Ginko: (ㅅ´ ˘ `)
"You little brat!"
"Eep!"
Ai stuck her tongue out and ducked behind Azuma, who remained seated as the two girls chased each other around him in dizzying circles.
Azuma could only sigh with a smile. Finally, he stood up and took both of their hands, pulling them to a stop.
The instant he touched them, both Ai and Ginko quieted.
Keika, watching from the swing, clicked her tongue in disbelief.
"…You really grew up, huh?" she muttered. "What happened to the dense idiot from ten years ago?"
"Shishou!" Ai suddenly remembered. "We came to call everyone back for dinner!"
Azuma "umu'd."
The group turned and began walking back toward the Hinatsuru Ryokan.
The Days Before the Battle
The following days passed like a dream.
Originally, Ginko and the others had come to the countryside to help Azuma prepare for the Ryuuou semi-finals—both for training and relaxation. They expected him to be tense. On edge. Needing support.
But surprisingly, Azuma was calm.
Unshakable.
He played shogi. He went on walks. He helped with chores. Sometimes he napped under the veranda like a lazy cat.
The tension everyone feared never came.
Instead, the entire trip felt more like a training camp vacation, filled with peaceful dinners, shared memories, and quiet, golden afternoons.
And then, the day finally arrived.
The Ryuuou Semi-Finals.
Azuma's opponent?
A formidable 9-dan player—the only one to make it this far.
A man from the same generation as Kiyotaki Kousuke.
A true veteran.
The battle awaited.