Chapter 1 – EP01 Scholar’s Mate

On an early-summer afternoon,
bands of sunlight stretched long across the hallway floor.

When the chime wrapped up the homeroom closing, the air in the classroom changed color all at once.

Club jerseys, convenience-store bags, somebody’s laughter.

Having become a first-year high schooler(16 years old), Sora walked along the edge of that flow and, heading nowhere in particular, turned the corner of the hallway.

(I don’t really have anywhere to go, but…)

Suddenly, the texture of wood snagged at the edge of his vision.

Beyond an open door, in the center of a square table, a light-brown board.

An eight-by-eight grid lined up; white and black pieces caught the light and gleamed faintly.

Not metal—the smell of dry wood. Though he didn’t know it, it felt nostalgic, and his feet stopped.

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“—Huh, Sora. What are you doing?”

Popping her face out from the doorframe and laughing like she was having fun was his classmate, Momoko. Her semi-long hair bounced lightly at her shoulders. She was a little shorter than him.

“Nothing. I was just looking.”

“Hm. Are you interested? In chess.”

A returnee from Poland who, for some reason, was popular with boys and girls alike. When her emotions ran high, a bit of Polish got mixed in—that was Momoko.

“…Can I touch the pieces?”

The words snagged somewhere in his chest and scattered like a tiny spark.

He didn’t know why, but his mouth moved first.

“You’ve played chess before, Sora? I didn’t know!”

—Sora recalled that incident from two years ago for a moment.

“I just thought the shape of the chess pieces was pretty… I’ve never played against a person…”

Momoko smiled mischievously.

“Only touching the pieces? It’s your first time, right? Since we’re here, I’ll teach you. I’m in the chess club, you know. Against a beginner it’ll probably be over in no time though♡”

Maybe because of Momoko’s sunny, free-spirited personality, even though her tone teased, there was nothing unpleasant about it. He followed her into the clubroom.

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White curtains hung by the window swayed in the wind, and sunlight flickered thinly over the squares.

The sound of a chair being pulled.

Sora sat in front of the board and tested with his fingertips the cool feel of pieces he was touching for the first time.

(…This feeling…)

An evening two years ago, a park bench. A friend’s smartphone. The letters “YOU WIN” floating on the screen.

Every time he moved his hand, it was like someone whispered the “next” move by his ear. That uncanny conviction.

But now, that sensation was far away, like a thin mist.

When he closed his fingers, only a frail emptiness remained, as if he had grasped air.

(…Come to think of it, that guy—Haruto, right—how’s he doing?)

“Okay, here we go. Since you’re a beginner, Sora, you’ll be Black; I’ll take White and move first. The piece movement guide is posted on the wall behind me, so use it as a reference.”

Momoko pushed a pawn forward two squares. The sound of the piece settling into the center of the square rang softly. There was no hesitation in her hands.

Sora ran a hand through his hair with one hand and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m actually strong.”

“Hmm, is that so. Then let’s see what you’ve got.”

His basis was a single vague memory. Even as he thought himself foolish, he pushed out the pawn in the same file. Sweat beaded in his palms, and the feel of the wood changed slightly.

(…Huh?)

After only a few moves, a restlessness stirred deep in his chest. He couldn’t read Momoko’s play.

The bishop across from him slipped onto a diagonal line, and her queen slid in like an avalanche. The angles where the pieces lined up, the gaps, the escape routes—lines he should have seen collapsed without a sound.

(The voice… isn’t there.)

The whisper of the “next move” that had surely been there two years ago was nowhere to be found.

In a silence like tinnitus, only he was lagging behind.

His fingertips stiffened. He almost grabbed the wrong piece and hurriedly put it back.

Momoko’s fingers, without the slightest hesitation, touched the queen again.

“Okay. —Szach-mat, that’s ‘checkmate’ in Polish, Sora-kun.”

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Though the words were gentle in tone, on the board they appeared cold and definitive.

Sora started to lift his king—and then froze.

There was no escape. On the side, his own pieces got in the way. In front, the white pieces' diagonals cut him to ribbons.

Momoko allowed a faint smile to surface and returned the pieces to their original places.

Like a pointing stick, she traced the bishop’s diagonal and sketched the queen’s path with a quick whoosh in the air.

“This is the famous ‘Scholar’s Mate.’ The one that mates a beginner in four moves. If you defend properly it’s actually easy to prevent, But if you neglect to defend with the knight or open up a weak square with your bishop, like you just did, then checkmate can happen.”

“…I-I didn’t know.”

“Right. If you don’t know about it, you fall into it super easily. It’s good to remember. Like, develop your bishop and knight early so the weak squares in front of your king don’t get targeted. Okay?”

Even though Momoko spoke with a smile and her words felt light, inside his chest they felt heavy. His vision blurred with frustration. A sting pricked the back of his nose.

(Why…)

Sora dropped his gaze and bit his lip. Laughter drifted in from the hallway outside. The sunlight remained warmly unchanged.

Momoko gently held out her right hand.

“What the heck…”

“A handshake. When a game ends, you shake hands. That’s chess etiquette.”

Awkwardly, Sora reached out and took the offered hand.

And the moment Sora looked into her eyes, Momoko said:

“You’re so frustrated you wanna play chess now, right♡ Wanna go again?”

Momoko’s words resonated in Sora’s heart with a strange sensation, but he only gave a small shake of his head.

“Gotcha. Any time—come by the chess club♡”

She gave a small wave and walked toward the door to greet her next opponent.

Left behind, Sora cupped the board with both hands. In his palms, something that had surely been there a moment ago was gone. Only the shape of the hollow remained, sharply defined.

He was frustrated. Until now Sora had never been interested in anything and had never gotten serious about anything. But now, for the first time, a new emotion was spreading inside him. He was simply frustrated that he had lost.