Ren sat at the chessboard, locking his gaze sharply onto Kenji, who wore a smirk of pure confidence.
The tension in the air was palpable.
The competition had found an abundant audience. Students, teachers, and even chess enthusiasts from all over Tokyo were flocking to the venue. The match was being televised, even streaming live to classrooms where students attached themselves to their screens, waiting to witness the clash of two of the new prodigies in chess.
People for the moment are excitedly ready to comment on the live feed.
"We're about to witness an intense battle! Ren Hayashi of Seinen High faces Kenji Sakamoto of Tokyo High. While both are potentials, can Ren stand to Kenji with an aggressive style of playing?"
The game began.
First minute. Kenji initiated the first move ruthlessly, playing with precision. His pieces danced across the board like a predator closing in on its prey. Ren even worked through his mind to analyze every little move, yet struggling within the first five minutes.
He was oppressed. His king was put on the defensive.
Kenji leaned back a little and had his smirk grow.
"Is that all you've got with that Hayashi?" he taunted someone under his breath. "You're not even worth Takashi's time."
Ren hovered his fingers over the board. He was kept silent with it; he closed his eyes briskly and took a deep breath, clearing his lungs out.
It was the sixth minute.
Time elapsed for something to change.
Ren's eyes opened: sharp, calculating. He steadied his hand on a chess piece. It was time to retaliate.
His fingers lingered over his knight for a moment, then the knight slid forward: slow, unhesitating movement. An almost quiet motion, far from being noticed. A motion that was the beginning of a more elaborate plan.
A trap.
Kenji was confidingly bold, attacking with ferocity. His pieces were unyielding in the hunt, and so was his style. In his excitement, however, he was unable to see through the intricacies of the trap Ren was setting.
With each passing move, Ren set down a lure, small exchanges that seemed to mean the world to him but were inconsequential. A pawn here, a bishop there.
And, just like that, the whole edifice came crashing down on Kenji.
His queen suddenly found itself in a chokehold. His knights were entangled, heavy shackles upon their freedom, and the very attack he had been building against Ren was now nothing but a liability, with Ren's pieces suddenly awake from seemingly passive operation: a coiled trap now snapped shut.
Kenji scowled as he gripped his piece with increasing tension.
Straight into a Philidor's Legacy trap: an intricate sequence that forced the king into the inevitable checkmate streets.
No longer was it his way to fight. It had become Ren's war.
Minute after minute, Ren advanced.
Kenji was beset by problems. His moves were more frantic than well-planned-once gripping the concluding hours with-
His knight was positioned last, a sacrificial offer, with smooth control of voice from then on.
"Checkmate."
The atmosphere changed.
The commentators gasped.
The hall fell silent.
At first, he froze, fists clenching, and then realization set in Kenji as the chill gradually thawed. He had been beaten.
Then the hall's cheers blended into one sound: rumblings.
Seinen High students clapped and shouted as their voices echoed through the hall. The broadcast cameras zoomed in on Ren, all of whom was paying attention to the cameras behind him-calm and unplacatable for the most part-as he rose from his seat to return a single nod to the fallen opponent.
Kenji glared but did not make a sound; he understood that he had been outplayed.
The Reactions
Students in classrooms back erupted with shock and excitement.
"Against Kenji? He won?!"
"I absolutely can't believe it... He's indeed the best of the best in Seinen High."
"He is. No, he's more than that. He could go pro."
In the front row of one of the classes sat Emi, watching the big screen with her usual confident striking expression gone.
Her hands rested on her desk, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
For the very first time, she noticed Ren in a different light.
"He's... amazing," she muttered under her breath, feeling warmth rush to her face.
For she had always seen him that he was a quiet reserved chess player who much less opened his mouth to speak but this one was different. Because seeing him totally decimate Kenji in that way, well, it had something quite intriguing about it.
Aoi's fingers clenched around the sketchbook.
Her mind was jammed with strange thoughts that were not clear to her.
She had witnessed the whole match of Ren—but somehow, was it possible that she had known how it would end?
Her mind rewound each single movement: such as the angle of his wrist with moment and then the way the knight landed into its final position-the flicker of determination in his eyes- making her breathe slow.
Because she had seen this before.
No, she had sketched it before.
A shiver traced down her spine.
Her pulse beat against her fingertips, and then she paused before flipping open the sketchbook.
And there it was.
Ren, his knight in the exact position. The moment caught before it ever happened.
The world around her felt suddenly unsteady, as if the boundary between her sketches and reality was dissolving.
Quietly, she thumped the book shut, fingers gripping the edges.
This... this is impossible.
But something whispered deep into her:
It is.