I sit down directly across from the Switch Hitter and give him an honest explanation.
Jin Natagiri is a hard worker .
In the Shogi world, success when working as hard as he does indicates that effort trumps talent.
If there’s one thing this world hates, it’s the hard-working player who surpassed you.
Effort is a derogatory term.
Once someone is labeled as talentless, it becomes difficult for anyone to accept that person had talent all along. Many would rather die than admit it outright.
“Everyone must feel the same way about these two …… About Yaichi and Ayumu. They’re both around 20 years old, but here they are competing against each other for a title. Acknowledging that they are strong means acknowledging that their own day in the sun will never come ……”
“Well, have they acknowledged them, do you think?”
“No, at least not in the conventional sense.”
Interpreting the heavy air in here as positive acknowledgement of an opponent’s abilities wouldn’t be right. It’s nothing like respect or esteem ……
“Envy? Hatred? Impatience?”
I open my notebook and jot down more words. The more I look them over, the more I feel each one misses the mark.
Natagiri 8-dan peers over at my notes from the other side of the table and says with all seriousness, “…… I’ve been hoping for a chance to speak with you for a long time.”
“With me?”
Given his reputation, I’m surprised this man would show any interest in a female. I admonish myself for that bias right away though. He took in Ai Hinatsuru, after all.
“Not only are you the editor of Kuzuryu’s Notebook, you have watched Yaichi Kuzuryu’s Shogi closer than anyone else and wrote about him using your Mato pen name. If anyone can figure out the purpose behind that opening move, it’s you. Am I wrong?”
“…… I do have a theory.”
“And I would love to hear it.”
“No matter how you think about it, advancing the King on the open move goes against Shogi theory. It’s a meaningless move under the rule saying a match ends when the opponent’s King is checkmated.”
“…………”
“There is a way for Shogi matches to end besides a checkmate.”
Back when the anaguma strategy tormented the Shogi world.
Similar logic was used in an attempt to make that ultimate defensive strategy into an unstoppable powerhouse.
The formation was created by my Master Taisei Kayaoku 7-dan and was relevant for a brief time―――
“…… Is it the Pinwheel you’re talking about?”
“The concept seems similar. Just ……”
“Just? Do tell.”
“The Pinwheel was designed to force Repetition Draws, but Kuzuryu-Crown seems to have something more distant in mind. Something …… beyond the world as we know it. Otherwise he couldn’t have mercilessly butchered Shinokubo 7-dan to such an extent ……”
I jot down the quotes and information that went into my theory.
“Could that be the solution of Shogi?”
There isn’t any proof yet, so I leave the core part blank.
Even after all these years of knowing Yaichi Kuzuryu, this was the first time I was shaken to my core.
―――Was this the Shogi …… I wished to see?
I idolized him for his strength.
But just what was that strength in the first place? Surely it wasn’t sequences and standard memorization.
“Freedom.”
That boy’s Shogi made a board restrained by one rule after another look like a treasure map.
Right now, there are players other than myself who are still trying to comprehend Yaichi’s Shogi. But if he continues forward on his own like this …… there will come a day when the collective consensus becomes:
What you’re trying to do doesn’t make any sense, so go do it somewhere else.
This 7-round title match will decide what ultimately happens. That’s the impression I have.
Will Yaichi become isolated within the Shogi world or not―――?
“Incredible. Absolutely incredible.”
A clapping sound from across the way gets me to look up from my notes. It’s Natagiri 8-dan who’s putting his hands together.
“He came to the same conclusion. Doing so with so much less information than you have just goes to show he really must have traveled here from Planet Shogi, don’t you agree?”
Natagiri 8-dan isn’t looking at me.
Instead, he’s looking past me toward the doorway.
“…… There’s no way?!”
I spin around in disbelief.
What’s more, I’m not the only one who has noticed.
“MEI―――?!!”
It was as if the eyes of everyone in the room were about to fall from their sockets.
The strongest of them all―――The man with four titles is standing there.
“The Meijin, in a title match waiting room?!”
“H-Has this ever happened before ……?!”
Title holders never work as observers.
As a general rule, they don’t get involved with other title matches in any way.
Therefore, it’s highly likely the Meijin hasn’t set foot in a waiting room in the past two decades ……
“Please, come on in. I’ve saved the best seat for you,” says the man who fought him tooth and nail in the Meijin Title Match. Natagiri 8-dan then stands up and pulls out the chair for him.
Right in front of me.
“Huh?!”
“More so than I, the Meijin is the one who wanted to chat with you. Once I reminded him that journalists tend to spend the second day cooped up in the arena, he asked me to claim a seat while he took care of another matter. A seat across from Ms. Mato, to be precise!”
I’ve spoken with this man plenty of times for match articles in the past but …… My knees tremble.
His eyes are already laser-focused on the analysis board, his hands clasped around his cheeks. That’s a habit of his when he’s concentrating.
“Now! What do you say we take a trip through time, hm?” says a giddy Natagiri 8-dan as he resets the board to the opening formation.
The observer for this match, Usui 9-dan, is speaking to a journalist off in the corner, but it’s clear as day he is listening to every word being spoken at this table.
I jot something else down in my notebook.
“Time machines aren’t all that scary when everyone is coming with you.”
Never in a million years could I use that in an article, but I feel it sums up the thoughts of everyone here quite nicely.