Traps

“S-sorry for intruding!” said Touka nervously, as she stepped through the front door to my humble abode. It was a little strange, seeing a girl who would so confidently take punches to the face getting all timid over visiting a friend’s house.

Wait, are we friends? Could I really consider her my friend now? Oh shit, now I’m the one who’s nervous…

“Yo, Nana, you’re back,” said Mai, poking her head through the living room door and dragging me out of my stupid thoughts. “Oh, hey Touka, Nana said you were coming round. I’m Mai, if you don’t remember.”

“I remember, you’re Nanako’s sister, right?”

““Housemate.””

“Huh? You two aren’t sisters? But you look so similar…”

“A real sister wouldn’t snitch to your parents that you had a threesome in their bed with the captains of the girl’s football and rugby teams.”

“Christ, Nana, get over it, it’s been four years! And you don’t get to act like you’re a great sibling either. Not after the flambée incident.”

“We are not talking about the flambée incident again!”

Our instant bickering was cut off by an angelic giggle from just behind me.

“It seems like you two get along well,” said Touka, still chuckling slightly into her hand. “Makes me a little jealous. I wish I had a sibling that I was so close to.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, I promise. Especially when your sister has a habit of hooking up with girls she knows you’re interested in just so she can brag about ‘getting there first.’”

“Hey, I haven’t done that in at least two years.”

“Because I’ve been dating the same girl for two years!”

“Only ‘cos you snagged her before I had the chance…” I grumbled.

“God above, you’re completely incorrigible,” replied Mai, putting her hand on her forehead dramatically. “Whatever, let’s just get to the point.” She turned her attention to Touka and crossed her arms. “Nana said you’re struggling with strategy, right? Like you understand the principles but can’t put it together in a game properly?”

“Y-yeah… something like that.”

Mai turned on her heel, whistled, and beckoned Touka to follow her.

“Come with me. You just got a teacher upgrade, from the outdated model to the new and improved.”

“Hey!”

“You’re the one who recommended she practice with me, right? So you know I’m telling the truth.”

I grumbled under my breath, knowing nothing I could say would come out sounding like anything but complete cope. I tended to beat Mai about 2/3 of the time, and I was the higher rated player, so by those metrics I was better than her. But if there was one thing in which she triumphed over me, it was her mastery of grand strategy.

I could make big plays and find difficult lines. She could plan a whole game from the first five moves. For Touka’s purposes, Mai was undeniably the better teacher.

Touka glanced at me nervously, and I simply gave her a small nod, and a little hand gesture to follow. We walked together into the adjoining dining room, her just half a pace behind me.

Touka had committed herself to improving at chess. We both knew what that would mean.

Mai was gonna crush her over and over until she was good enough. I just hoped Touka could take it.

***

The first couple of games were honestly a little difficult to watch. I didn’t exactly recommend Mai for her merciful side, but even I didn’t expect her to come out swinging so early. In the first game, she forewent her usual London system for a very aggressive Giuoco Piano line that had Touka completely on the back foot by move 10. Before she even reached move 15, she knew it was over, and laid down her king.

The second game was hardly less brutal. Mai played the aggressive Sveshnikov variation of the Sicilian, and Touka’s defence collapsed like a house of cards before she even knew what was happening.

Part of me was a little annoyed with Mai. I had come to her knowing that she was a master of grand strategy and playing the long game, so why was she throwing down the gauntlet with trap openings and aggressive pushes.

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but she only quickly shot me a sharp look back. It was very brief, but I knew Mai well enough to tell there was a message in that look.

If she can’t learn to defend in the first ten moves, how can she hope to defend for forty?

That seemed to be her message. She was trying to build Touka’s intuition for traps and aggressive lines by throwing them at her repeatedly until she started to pick up on the patterns.

This continued for a few games, and I watched closely on each every one of them.

Game three. Mai plays the Tennison gambit. Touka accepts without much thought, leading her to the ICBM trap and losing her queen off the start.

Game four. Mai plays the Blackburne-Kloosterboer variation of the Scandinavian defence. The unusual opening throws Touka off completely and she’s take entirely by surprise when Mai’s active queen starts tearing apart her defensive structure.

Game five. Mai plays the Stafford Gambit. Touka plays into the trap line. Mai makes the seemingly nonsensical move of taking the e4 pawn with the f6 knight, opening the diagonal between Touka’s attacking bishop and her own queen.

To the untrained eye, a blunder. To those familiar with the opening, a cruel and devastating trap.

Touka confusedly reached for her bishop, but the moment before her fingers grasped it, she paused, retracted her hand, and sat back in her seat.

“You’re not gonna take it?” Mai prodded. There was a hint of teasing in her tone.

“…no…”

Touka started visibly tracing lines with her finger. She seemed completely and utterly stumped, but it seemed like she had realised something was wrong. There was some trap here, she had realised that much. But what it was, she struggling to identify.

“Remember the weak squares-“ I began to say, before being shushed by Mai.

The message was clear. Let her figure it out alone.

We sat there watching Touka pour over the board for what felt like several minutes, going through the cycle of finding something she thinks might be right, before realising it doesn’t lead where she’s expecting and going back to square one.

Until finally, with a look of absolute pride and relief on her face, she had her eureka moment.

“Checkmate! If I take it there’s a checkmate with the knight and bishops! You just…” she played out the moves for both sides, before pointing out “after the bishop takes the queen I can’t do any more defensive moves, I just throw my king right into the second line and the bishop checkmates me the next turn!”

I have to admit, I felt a strange sense of pride after that. It had taken her a while, but she had put my previous lesson into action and found the vulnerability in her position. That’s not something the average newbie could do.

She was improving fast. Far faster than I was improving at chess. All thanks that incredible determination of hers.

That also made me feel a pang of guilt. Should I be taking boxing as seriously as she’s taking chess.

“Good lass. Took you a moment, but you shut down my trap before I could spring it,” said Mai. “So, have you figured out the lesson yet? Why you were able to notice there was a trap in the first place?”

I realised Mai was using the same teaching method as I had: making Touka put the lesson into words herself so she would properly understand it.

Come to think of it, I suppose I used that method on Mai too, all those years ago when I taught her chess.

Look at her, actually learning from me. I was strangely proud of that.

“I think…” Touka put her hand to her chin. “…I think the lesson is that ‘blunders’ in the opening normally aren’t actually blunders?”

“You’re on the right lines, at least,” said Mai, resetting the board as she spoke. “No one gives up material in the opening for free, that’s one of the first precepts of chess. Your opponents will be newbies so their coaches will all think the same thing: win in the opening with cheap traps and practiced lines. You wanna win? You avoid falling for those traps. You wanna crush and demoralise them? You learn to counter them. That’s the lesson you should take from these games.”

Mai finally finished setting the board back up, before turning it around once more. She was now playing with the white pieces, and before another word could be said, she gracefully slid one pawn two spaces forwards, in a motion she had practiced more than a thousand times over.

D4. The Queen’s pawn opening. Or in other words, the first move of the infamous London.

“Now? It’s time for you to see what strategy really looks like.”