Ch.2 – EP16 The Queen Piece

Night.

The hotel lounge had turned the lighting down half a notch. A low-resonant piano, the clink of glasses. Outside the window, the flow of lights on the Shuto Expressway. A faint breeze from the AC gently stirred the hem of the curtains, and a lamp cast a golden ring of light onto the polished wooden table.

Seated on the sofa, the Grandmaster wore the same colors as on stage, but with a different shadow about her.

A blade sheathed after battle—yet still a blade. That was the feeling.

Elena signaled with only her eyes.

“You came.”

Momoko and Sora took the seats across from her. Momoko’s fingertips sweat with nerves, and she placed her handkerchief on her lap. Sora straightened his back, but on his knees his hands had curled into small fists.

Elena leaned deep into her chair and fixed a sharp gaze on Sora.

“First… tell me your name.”

“…Sora. It’s written as ‘blue’ and ‘sky.’”

The sound dissolved into the lounge’s quiet and, at the same time, called something back. Sora took a breath, as if settling his resolve into his gut, then slipped his fingers into his pocket. A small coldness touched his fingertips.

He took out the queen piece from that chess set, placed it on his palm, and held it out.

Polished woodgrain, green felt on the base. The crown glinted softly in the light.

Elena’s expression changed completely.

“…This is…”

She leaned forward. “The one I gave my daughter Mari…”

Her voice trembled small. As her fingers enclosed the piece, memories surged as if a levee had burst, and light welled in her eyes.

“So it is as I thought… you are my grandson. You’re SORA.”

Momoko involuntarily caught her breath and hunched her shoulders. Sora didn’t look away. His heart gave one thump and then searched for a place to settle.

On the table, the queen sat quietly.

A small crown bearing his mother’s shadow. A silent witness.

____________________________________________________________________________________

【The Game of Memories】

After a single beat of silence, Elena continued in a low voice.

“That move you played today… it was the game Mari and I played the night before she got married—her last game with me.”

Ice rolled in a glass with a soft clink sound. Sora’s throat gulped.

“…With my mother?”

“Yes. A game only Mari and I should have known. How did you reproduce it?”

Sora searched for words and lowered his eyes. On the inside of his eyelids, the board’s woodgrain from earlier appeared once more.

“I don’t know. But somehow a voice came from deep inside. The moment I placed the piece, it came back, like a memory.”

(—This is the game of memories, Sora.)

He tried to align his breathing with beats. Four beats inhaling, four beats holding, four beats exhaling. The fists on his knees loosened, little by little.

Elena looked straight at her grandson.

(…Mari. So you did entrust him with “something” after all. Something that remains beyond the board—like breath.)

She laid the pads of her fingers on the queen with the same gentle gesture Sora often used.

The piece’s warmth passed to her skin. As if the heat of memory still truly lingered there.

____________________________________________________________________________________

【The Truth About Mari】

“Sora… how much do you know about your mother?”

Asked so, Sora glanced at Momoko for a moment. Momoko nodded, returning with her eyes, “It’s okay.”

“From Takashi—my father—I only know that when I was three, she died in a traffic accident.”

Elena drew a long breath. Her shoulders lowered slightly.

“Mari was a gifted chess player and a scientist. After marrying, she went to America with Takashi… and there she gave birth to you.”

“In America… she did?”

“Yes. I was in frequent contact with Mari. She sent many photos from when you were small…”

As she spoke, Elena’s gaze was far away. Glossy photographs, the lawn in the yard, little Sora’s smile.

“…But not long after you turned three, contact suddenly ceased.”

Her voice quivered with bitterness.

“I went to America myself. What I heard from the neighbors was… there were rumors that Mari had ‘died.’ Accident, or suicide. The truth is lost in darkness.”

At the edge of the table, Momoko pinched the corner of her handkerchief tight. Sora clenched his fists, the pain of his nails digging into his palms keeping him anchored to reality.

“Dad… never told me anything.”

The lounge piano slipped a note and immediately returned to harmony. That one misaligned note overlapped with the pain of the story.

____________________________________________________________________________________

【Chess.aic and SORA】

Elena’s voice turned low and sharp.

“The company Mari and Takashi worked for… was Chess.aic. About two years ago I heard a strange rumor. A project had been launched to ‘create a human who could beat AI.’ Its name was… SORA.”

“…My name…?”

“Too convenient to be coincidence.”

Elena regripped the queen. Her finger joints whitened.

“And they’ve been scouting children from around the world. The methods are forceful… I’ve even heard that people have gone missing.”

Momoko couldn’t help but cut in.

“…Do you remember? That cheating jerk, Hayato. He was playing with a smartwatch connected to an AI… After Sora beat him, he disappeared. The police got involved.”

Elena’s eyes flashed sharply—the light she had on the board when she found a decisive shot.

“…In other words, Sora, it’s possible you ‘beat an AI’?”

Sora nodded in silence. His throat was parched. He reached for his water, but the glass’s cold felt strangely far away.

(If that’s true—why me. Why is my name in the same context as my mother’s?)

In the back of the lounge, a small pop sounded as someone pulled a cork from a wine bottle. The incongruous lightness only made the reality sharper.

____________________________________________________________________________________

【Quit Chess】

Elena closed her eyes and fell silent for a while. The shadow on her cheek deepened.

At length she spoke quietly.

“…Sora. It’s cruel for a grandmother who just met you to say this. But I want you to quit chess.”

“…Huh?”

“Mari and Takashi were caught in the darkness of Chess.aic. I cannot let you be entangled as well. I don’t want to… lose my grandson.”

That “I don’t want to lose you” was heavy like a chain of metal. The voice of a grandmother, and also the voice of a commander on a battlefield. A command to step back.

Momoko stood and argued desperately. The chair creaked a little.

“Sensei! Sora’s competing at Nationals next week! He swept the qualifiers—we decided we would fight together!”

Elena’s eyes were cold, and yet wavering.

“…I just want you to think about whether that path truly leads to your happiness…”

The words fell into Sora’s chest like a paperweight. His beats unraveled; he couldn’t count them.

Four beats, four beats—collapsing, spilling.

(The ‘voice’ my mother left. The ‘moves’ my fingers chose. Even so, am I to quit?)

Momoko planted both hands on the table and looked straight at Elena.

“Sensei—today, I understood from the air in the hall. Sora isn’t ‘just a kid who’s good at chess.’ The moment he touches the board, he inherits someone’s memories and breathing. It’s scary. But that ‘scary’ isn’t something you protect, hide, and erase. You face it, learn how to win with it, and make it your ally—that’s what I think.”

Elena looked at Momoko and let out a short breath.

“Monika. You’ve always been straightforward.”

“I was trained by you, Sensei.”

Momoko didn’t smile. She spoke without averting her eyes.

“Please. Not a ‘quit’ for running away—teach us a ‘way to fight’ for surviving. I don’t want to lose Sora either.”

Elena’s lashes trembled slightly, and her gaze returned to Sora.

Sora slowly sat up straighter. He unraveled his hands on his knees and placed both on the table. His fingertips were slightly clammy.

》 —I am Caïssa, and I am inside you. Sora, help me.

Caïssa’s voice from the match against that cheating jerk Hayato returned inside Sora.

“…I probably can’t run.”

His voice was small but had a core.

“If I run, I feel like my mother’s voice and the moves on the board will all grow distant. And if someone disappears again because I ran—… I don’t want that.”

Elena’s shoulders dropped just a fraction. Her gaze tilted a little toward a grandmother’s warmth.

(Headstrong. But there’s backbone… Mari’s child.)

She set the queen they’d placed a moment ago in the middle of the table. Before her fingertips left it, she paused for one beat, then drew back her hand.

Elena closed her eyes and was silent for a while. The shadow on her cheek sank once deeply, then rose.

When she opened her eyes, they held both a grandmother’s warmth and a Grandmaster’s hardness.

“…Very well. If you say you won’t quit, I’ll change my approach.”

She set the queen gently in the center of the table and pierced Sora with a straight look.

“Win the national tournament next week—decisively. If even one move on the board shows hesitation, you will withdraw your hand from the pieces that very day. Agreed?”

The air tightened; the clink of ice receded into the distance.

“Win…?”

Momoko leaned forward without thinking.

“Master, that’s unreasonable. Sandra will be there, and also—me.”

“I’ve heard.”

Elena’s voice was straight as a dry blade.

“But unless you have at least that level of strength, I cannot let you continue. Win by a landslide, and stand in the very center of the public eye. So that Chess.aic cannot lay a hand on you. Light drives off sloppy darkness.”

Sora swallowed. He understood the weight. Even so, he nodded.

“…Understood.”

“In that case, I’ll give you a strategy.”

Elena set her cadence, crisped the end of her words, and snapped her fingers lightly.

“First: go after attention. Winning alone is not enough. Win with ‘readable winning lines.’ Up through the quarterfinals, classical beauty; in the semifinals, the sharpness of application; in the final, the finishing touch—win in a way that doesn’t suffocate, but takes their breath away. Make it so the audience goes home with a ‘surprise they can explain.’”

Momoko scribbled notes.

“…‘A surprise one can explain,’ got it.”

“Second: place witnesses. Monika, stand along Sora’s path of movement. Entry, exit, the waiting room, lines of sight during the match—record everything. In conversations with opponents and organizers, bring in a third party when possible. Transparency is armor.”

“Roger. I’ll fix our positions back-to-back at the entrance and emergency exit. I’ll secure staff routes and handle negotiations.”

“Third: create an exit. Win or lose, do not enter the crowd immediately after the match. Decide on a signal between you. If your beats fall out of sync—”

“I’ll set them back in sync. The code phrase is ‘low-altitude flight,’” said Momoko. “I will absolutely protect Sora.”

Elena nodded, satisfied.

“Good.”

She stroked the queen with a fingertip and returned her gaze to Sora.

“And last, the most important thing. Put your reason to win into words. ‘I’ll win because I’m strong’ is a child’s logic. You will win the championship to take back what was lost, and to prove you cannot be robbed. Repeat those words like the four beats of your breath.”

Sora nodded slowly.

“…Take back. Don’t let them take. In four beats, I’ll repeat it.”

A faint smile rose at the corner of Elena’s mouth.

“Yes. When you make the victory condition clear, your body moves to meet it.”

Momoko raised her hand.

“Master, if he wins—”

“Come to Poland.”

Elena answered at once.

“You will stand out. Precisely because of that, they won’t be able to abduct you crudely. On top of that, you’ll enter my ‘cage.’ It isn’t a sweet cage. Every day, you’ll undergo training to survive. Information warfare, the basics of legal defense, distance management outside the board. I’ll handle persuading your father, Takashi.”

“…A cage?” Sora lifted an eyebrow.

“A cage, yes, but a cage to get out of.”

Elena’s voice softened a little.

“I’ll set you free in a beautiful forest after that. First, we’ll give you the fangs to ward off what bites, and the legs to run.”

Momoko gave a small laugh and nudged Sora’s shoulder.

“Heard that? ‘Win the title, then boot camp abroad.’ Guess we’ve got no choice.”

Sora gave the slightest answering smile.

The fear and the weight hadn’t vanished. But their outline had become clear.

(Win. In a definite form. With a surprise you can explain. Turn my mother’s voice into my own.)

At the end, Elena covered the queen with her palm and lifted her fingers away.

“The declaration is done. I repeat—if you won’t quit, then win. In exchange, I’ll promise this as well: if you can play the final with your own voice, I’ll lay the defenses outside the board.”

The piano moved quietly toward its cadence.

Outside the window, the Shuto Expressway lights stretched in a single long line.

Sora set his breathing to four beats and answered briefly.

“—Yes.”

That single word cast a faint shadow on the queen atop the table,

and set the sound of the next move ringing, sure and clear, through the night lounge.