Yamato Kajin stared at the board in stunned silence.
Impossible.
No—unthinkable.
Yet it had happened. Right before his eyes.
He couldn't even speak.
Across the board, Yukima Azuma didn't rush to seal the win. He calmly used up the remainder of his byōyomi (countdown time), not to think, but to let the pressure build. To let Yamato feel it—feel the inevitability.
Kajin liked mind games. He liked to get into people's heads.
So Yukima Azuma used the same weapon against him.
The Static Rook was always a trap.
His Ranging Rook had shifted aggressively, and the Hisha (Rook) had looked like the centerpiece of the attack.
But it was all bait.
The real threat had come from the shadows.
A Kakugyō (Bishop), previously dormant and overlooked, suddenly leapt onto 1a, deep in enemy territory.
Click.
The sound of it echoed like a bell tolling the end.
It was in the promotion zone. He flipped it.
The Horse—Ryūma, the Promoted Bishop—stood now as the deathblow piece.
Within two moves, it would deliver a tsumi—a forced mate.
The flashy sacrifice had drawn Kajin's attention to the Rook, but the match was ended by quiet movement and misdirection.
So simple. So clean.
"The Marquis Devours the Dragon."
Yamato Kajin finally lowered his head.
"I… have lost."
He picked up the makedome (surrender piece) and tapped it to the board.
"Thank you for the lesson."
Yukima Azuma gave his customary nod and ended the match.
In his system interface, a prompt appeared:
[Notification: Your Shogi skill has reached maximum experience.]
Shogi (Lv7) → Shogi (Lv8)
He dismissed it. But the feeling of rising ki—the spiritual aura—surged through him like an underground river breaking free. Even off the board, the intensity refused to fade.
He forced it back down, exhaled, and turned to leave.
Behind him—
"How… How could you play a game like that? You've only been studying Shogi for less than ten years! And you've been gone for three!"
Kajin's voice cracked slightly.
Yukima turned.
"There's nothing impressive about it," he said coolly.
It really wasn't.
He'd just moved the pieces.
Used the Rook as bait to draw attention and force positional shifts.
While Kajin hyper-focused on that axis, the Bishop repositioned, unnoticed.
Then—at the critical moment—it struck.
Quiet, seamless movement. No flash. Just efficiency.
In truth, it was a textbook piece exchange bait-and-switch. But executed with machine-level precision, powered by the system that elevated every Shogi-related instinct to its absolute limit.
No wonder it looked like magic.
But to Yukima, it was just technique.
Outside the hall—
A swarm of reporters burst toward the exit.
"Yukima 5-dan! No—now you're Yukima 6-dan!"
"You've defeated Yamato Kajin 8-dan! This makes you the clear frontrunner in the title race!"
"If you win this tournament, you'll become the youngest 7-dan in league history!"
"Yukima 6-dan, was this entire match planned from the very first move?!"
Azuma raised a hand, signaling for calm.
He gave a few short, generic answers.
Then he saw Sora Ginko, waiting quietly at the edge of the crowd.
"That's enough for now."
He turned and walked swiftly toward her.
"Let's get out of here," he said. "If we stay, they'll keep asking things I don't want to answer."
He took her hand without hesitation.
Sora Ginko felt her heart skip.
Still dazed by the whirlwind of the day, she followed his lead as they slipped past the reporters.
They wandered around Ishikawa for a while, letting the tension bleed away.
By evening, they returned.
School was still waiting tomorrow.
Even if the official tournament wasn't over yet—today's result had already settled it.
The strongest contender—Yamato Kajin, 8-dan—had just been defeated.
And not by a fluke.
They'd fought evenly while Azuma was still Level 7 in Shogi.
Now?
With his skill at Level 8, the difference was vast.
Unless something catastrophic happened, no one else in the bracket could stop him.
This match had all but sealed the championship.
The next day, Toyosaki High.
"Yukima-san, the club application's been submitted," Aki Tomoya reported. "First meeting is tentatively set for Friday after school, in the multimedia room."
Yukima gave a light nod.
Friday, huh?
That left just enough time to prep a few things.
"Hey."
The voice came from behind.
He turned and saw Eriri, pouting, arms crossed, her iconic golden twintails bouncing slightly.
"Where were you yesterday?"
Azuma blinked.
Then he remembered—Eriri didn't know about the tournament.
Back when they dated, he'd quit all public Shogi appearances.
She didn't know his history, his rankings, or even how famous he once was.
He spoiled her so much back then, he'd almost erased all trace of his former self.
And now?
She was one of his exes—and she knew the least about him.
What a strange irony.
"Are you worried about me, Sawamura-san?" he asked, smiling slyly.
Instant blush.
"Wh-what?! Who's worried? As if I'd care what you were doing!" she huffed, turning away.
Yukima laughed softly.
Yep, same as always.
"Well, if it has nothing to do with Sawamura-san, then I won't say anything to her."
"Wha—!?"
She spun around, eyes wide, her single fang poking out in a pout.
What do you mean it doesn't matter!? I was worried, you idiot! Say something! Argue back!
She puffed her cheeks, silently fuming.
Just then—
Thud. Thud.
Kirisu Mafuyu entered with a tap of the blackboard.
"Everyone, we have the physical fitness test today. Change into your gym clothes. Now."
The class groaned.
And so, the next round of battles began—not on a shogi board, but on the track field.