If I Become a Meijin, Will you Marry me, Master? - Chapter 11

“I’m home! …Huh? Were you asleep, Master?”

“Oh… Momoka, you’re back. Welcome home.”

The sound of the front door opening as Momoka returned from school woke me up. I lifted my upper body from the desk where I’d been slumped over, researching shogi on the computer.

“Taking a nap? That’s unusual for you.”

“Yeah… I guess I still haven’t recovered from the rush of TV appearances over the past few days.”

That really wore me out…

“Heh.”

“What? Why are you laughing at my face?”

“You’ve got keyboard marks on your cheek, Master.”

“Seriously!?”

Panicking, I rushed to check the mirror in the bathroom. Sure enough, square-shaped impressions from the keyboard were clearly etched into my face.

I must’ve fallen asleep without realizing it and ended up face-down on the keyboard.

Did I drool on it too?

“If you’re going to nap, you should do it on the bed or sofa.”

“Nah, I’ve still got research to do.”

While I was at the sink, I splashed cold water on my face to shake off the drowsiness. Being March, the water was still icy cold.

For the past several days, I’d been too busy with TV and newspaper interviews to get any real shogi research done.

I have a match the day after tomorrow, so I finally turned down all further press requests for tomorrow—but just informing everyone of that was a hassle.

When I finally finished contacting everyone and sat down in front of the computer to research, I must’ve passed out without realizing.

“If you keep sleeping like that, you’re going to mess up your body.”

“I’m used to the stiff neck, shoulders, back, and waist by now.”

I reached my arms behind me and moved my shoulder blades together and apart, trying to loosen the stiff muscles in my back.

Not that it helped much.

Spending hours at a time analyzing game records and AI evaluation scores means staying in one position forever. Neck and shoulder stiffness has basically become an occupational hazard.

Professional shogi players deal with the same kind of physical stress as office workers do.

“Master, lie down over here.”

While I was wiping my face with a towel, Momoka was waiting for me in the living room, pointing at the floor.

“Huh? On the floor? Oh, I get it—if you nap on the hard floor, you’re less likely to oversleep. Good trick.”

“Please don’t go teaching your disciple such unhealthy life hacks. I’ll give you a massage, so lie face down.”

Momoka placed a donut-shaped cushion with a hole in the center on the floor.

“Oh, really? Thanks!”

I eagerly lay down on my stomach, positioning my face over the hole in the cushion to breathe easily while lying face-down.

“You’re pretty tense, sir~”

“You always do this skit…”

She lightly pressed on my neck, shoulders, and lower back, murmuring to herself. I chuckled in response.

When the pain in my neck and shoulders got bad, I used to go to various clinics and chiropractors, but I never really found one that worked for me.

Seeing that, Momoka—back when she was still in elementary school—offered to take on the role of my personal masseuse.

At first, it was like a little kid tapping at your shoulders while the parent humors them. It didn’t actually help, but I was touched by her concern for my well-being and always appreciated her kindness.

Then, just like with her shogi ranks, her massage skills improved at an incredible rate. These days, she could rival a licensed therapist.

“Hehe… The moment Master lets his guard down and entrusts his whole body to me… it satisfies my domination urges…”

She muttered something behind me, but with my face buried in the cushion, I couldn’t quite make out the words.

“Ahh! Phew…”

“Did that hurt?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Let me know if it does.”

“Okay, got i—augh!”

“Ah, here it is. This spot feels good, right?”

“Nope! That spot’s a no-go!”

“If you endure it, it’ll feel even better.”

“Wait! I said it’s too much! Don’t press there—ah! Ahh!!”

Once everything was done, I lay collapsed and limp on the floor, completely relaxed and dazed. Next to me, a 14-year-old middle school girl—my disciple Momoka—sipped tea with a satisfied look on her face.

Taken out of context, the scene might seem… questionable.

But really, it was just a massage session. Nothing more.

“Ahh, that felt amazing… Thanks, Momoka.”

I finally caught my breath and sat up from the floor, expressing my gratitude.

I rotated my shoulders and was surprised by how light they felt.

“You’re welcome.”

Momoka, now sitting at the living room table with her tea, smiled at me.

“If there were a massage parlor like this, I’d absolutely book weekly. I had no idea you had a talent for this, too, Momoka.”

The saying “Heaven doesn’t give with both hands” clearly doesn’t apply to her. Watching her proves it’s just something people say to comfort the less fortunate.

“Well, they say skill comes from passion.”

“That’s true for shogi too. You can endure the tough times because you love it.”

“Ahh, but the thing is, massage takes a lot of time.”

“I-I see… I must be stealing your precious post-school study time…”

Even a short session takes around 40 minutes. Because of that, I rarely ask her for massages myself.

No matter how close we are as master and disciple, asking your disciple for a massage in this day and age feels way too outdated.

And if you’re a man asking a girl for one… well, if it were ever taken the wrong way, I’d definitely lose in court!

Should I just stop asking her for massages from now on…?

“That’s not what I meant. I was just thinking, if I were Master’s wife, I could give you massages every night.”

“Every night…?”

Even though I’d just been worrying about asking her too much, I couldn’t help but imagine what life would be like receiving this kind of treatment every day.

“Right? So if I become a grandmaster and marry you… I’ll do lots of nice things for you.”

It was a very appealing proposal.

“Thanks for everything, honey.”
“You’re welcome. I’m only this healthy because you take such good care of me.”
“After decades of massages, I know your body like the back of my hand.”
“That you do…”
“Oh, Master—oops! I used your old title again!”
“Haha! Come on, Momoka. We’ve been married for years, we have three kids, and you’re still stuck in disciple mode?”
“Hey… just for tonight, can we go back to those days? When I was your disciple, and you were my master?”
“Hm?”
“The kids are already asleep… So, please?”
“You’re such a spoiled disciple… Come here.”
“Yes, Master! Ah… Master, not there… You never touched me like that back then…”
“I held back back then. But now…”
“Ah… Master… no…”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

What am I thinking!?

I just vividly imagined a steamy married life with Momoka, years into the future!

This is dangerous.

Don’t forget. I have a mission: to save the world of shogi from a disastrous future where Momoka becomes a grandmaster and retires the very same day!

Don’t get distracted!

“Yes yes, you’d make a wonderful wife someday, Momoka. Now come on, let’s make dinner—help me out, will you?”

“Hmph… You always dodge the issue like that, Master…”

Feeling a bit guilty for the wildly inappropriate fantasy I’d just had about a middle schooler, I used cooking as an excuse to steer the conversation away.

Man, I really need a break…

“After the match the day after tomorrow… maybe I’ll give her a call.”

I thought to myself as I slipped on my apron.