Ch.2 – EP14 Aleksandra

》 “Monika.”

The voice felt like ice water poured down her back.

She hadn’t heard that name in a long time.

She stood one step outside the “temperature” of the crowd.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?”

She smiled with only her mouth.

“…Ola.” (※ Ola is the diminutive for Aleksandra.)

Momoko’s voice carried both wariness and nostalgia.

“Call me Sandra when we’re not alone, okay?”

She flicked a glance at Sora, then returned her eyes to Momoko.

“So this is your… boyfriend? Pet?”

The human tide rustled, and the sweetness of the street’s desserts receded.

Momoko blinked once and shifted her gaze to Sora. He gave an awkward little nod, unsure whether the remark was a joke or serious.

“Just kidding. Relax. I’m just visiting Tokyo. National High School Chess? I’m a guest.”

Aleksandra lifted the pouch in her left hand a little. Black fabric with a white crown icon, and a small “Engine Lab” embroidered at the edge.

“Frostfish—Chess.aic’s rival AI company—sponsorship. They’re generous♡”

Casually, she let her “identity” show through.

》 “Monika.”
Now she stabbed in Polish, short and sharp.

》 “Pamiętasz? Nigdy mnie nie pokonałaś z chłodnym sercem.”
》 (Remember? You never once beat me when I had a cold heart.)

You’re the one who never beat me!—Momoko thought. But she neither argued nor translated. She only shrugged.

“Hey, Sandra, this is Sora. He’s entering the tournament, and he’ll be the rising star.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw him on the participant list. Same school as you. So this is Japan’s rising star? An ELO 1000 beginner? How… provincial.”

“Don’t underestimate Sora. He can even beat an AI.”

“Bullshit. Don’t make me laugh.”

Sandra shaped a smile with only her lips; her eyes didn’t smile.

“No human could ever beat an AI in a chess match.”

She pulled out her phone and swiped to a black screen with a white eval bar as wallpaper.

“And I’m pretty much the AI player’s closest human analogue. +0.40 at depth 35—that’s the gap between us. Stable, inevitable… boring.”

She flaunted the numbers like accessories, then hid them at once.

“So?” Momoko kept it bright. “What’s your business?”

“Finals.” Sandra answered instantly.

“See you there. Try not to lose beforehand.”

Momoko smiled defiantly.

“Sandra, do you know who you’re talking to?”

Sandra whispered in Polish:

》 “Nie zakochuj się w nim, Monika. Tacy chłopcy znikają, kiedy gra się kończy.”
》 (Are you really falling in love? Monika. Boys like that vanish when the game ends.)

…Maybe that’s true. But I came to Japan to find what lies beyond chess… Momoko’s throat moved once. She didn’t translate it.

“By the way,” Sandra turned to Sora.

“I’ll teach you the difference in class at the match. You’ll like it. It’s clean♡”

Sora met her gaze head-on.

“I prefer ‘fitting’ to ‘clean’.”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

“Fitting, hm? We’ll see.”

A man in a beige suit hurried up behind her.

“Sandra, the sponsor wants a quick photo by the arch…”

“Sure.”

Sandra turned on her heel, then glanced back as if remembering something.

“Monika.”

“You’ve lost your edge in this… backwater.”

Finally she switched to Japanese, smiling with only her lips.

“ケッショウデ、アイマショ” (See you in the finals.)

And then, very softly, in Polish:

》 “Nie uciekaj.” (Don’t run this time.)

Instead of waving, she lifted her thumb like an eval bar ticking upward, and dissolved into the crowd.

Only the temperature was left behind.

“…She’s still got a rotten personality,” Momoko muttered, then straightened her back. “But she is cute, though♡”

“Which is true?”

“Both.”

Momoko pinched Sora’s sleeve.

“Hey, pretend you didn’t hear her Polish just now.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t understand anything except the English.”

“Whatever she said, I’ll answer it over the board.”

“Yeah.”

“Momoko, ‘Monika’…?”

“My handle in Poland. Believe it or not, I was a little bit famous over there.”

Right beside them, a crepe vendor poured new batter onto the griddle—sizzle—a sweet sound rose.

Sora synced the air’s four beats. 1, 2, 3, 4.

“She said, ‘See you in the finals.’”

“Yeah.”

A glint of laughter flickered in Momoko’s eyes.

“Oh! —Did you bring a smartphone?”

“Uh, I did, but …”

“Will you be friends with me on Facebook Messenger?”

“I don’t use Facebook or LINE.”

“Really? Then install Facebook Messenger now.”

“Okay, but why not LINE or WhatsApp?”

“In Poland we use Facebook Messenger!”

They held hands.

Amid the summer Harajuku crowd, their pulse matched again, perfectly.

The echo left by that icy voice thinned under the sweet smell of crepes.

But the barbs of the words didn’t disappear.

They didn’t need to. Both of them knew: they’d pull them out in the match.

Far off, an English-speaking photographer’s voice bounced: “Sandra, chin up!”

An icy heart smiled perfectly inside a photo, while out here on the street, the two of them kept moving past it, in step.