If I Become a Meijin, Will you Marry me, Master? - Chapter 3

“Wake up, Momoka~ Breakfast is ready!”

“Mmm… just 30 more minutes…”

“You’ll be late. There’s no match today, so you’ve got school, right?”

Saying that, I pull the covers off Momoka’s bed.

“Eek! It’s cold! I’m being attacked~!”

Momoka curls up like a cat under a kotatsu, hugging herself and goofing around.

“Quit talking nonsense and get to my room already.”

“Eh! ‘Come to my room,’ you say… a poor disciple being dragged around by her tyrannical master… It’s such a delicious trope, I’m getting chills just thinking about it… If a book came out about it, I’d definitely buy both the paperback and e-book versions…”

“There’s no way a book with such a niche scenario would sell! Anyway, breakfast is ready, so hurry up.”

This kind of banter has become totally routine for us over the past two months.

As I feel Momoka begin to sluggishly get dressed behind me, I head back to my room.

Momoka had given me a spare key to her apartment.

At first, I figured I’d only use it in emergencies—after all, Momoka is a teenage girl—but she was totally nonchalant about it:

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be using the key to come and go from your place all the time, so you should do the same.”

Yeah, I’m not fine with that at all…

I mean, I’m a 25-year-old man in the prime of his youth. Ideally, I’d like to get close to a lovely woman, maybe invite her over, and then, well…

…Sorry. That was a lie.

I don’t have anyone like that…

In the world of shogi, there are way more men than women, so there’s just no chance to meet anyone…

None at all‼

While making these pitiful excuses to no one in particular, I pour myself a cup of coffee from the machine I set before going to wake Momoka, next to a plate of toast, bacon and eggs, and salad laid out on the dining table.

“Morning, Master.”

“Yeah, morning, Momoka. Coffee’s ready.”

Wearing her usual sailor uniform with a cardigan over it, Momoka sits down in her seat.

“Hehehe, our little exchange just now sounded like a newlywed couple getting past the honeymoon phase. But using these matching mugs shows we’re still totally lovey-dovey!”

She says this while lightly flicking the matching blue and pink mugs with her finger, grinning.

“You’re the one who begged me to buy them at the department store for your housewarming gift. You threw a fit like a little kid, rolling on the floor.”

“That was a full-on desperate move with zero shame. But I knew you’d give in eventually ‘cause you’re such a softie, Master.”

With a bashful smile hidden behind the long sleeves of her cardigan, she takes a sip from her mug, clearly delighted.

No, I gave in because I was way too embarrassed to be seen like that in public.

Maybe I’m spoiling her too much, but Momoka had just left home on her own at the age of 14, so I couldn’t help but go easy on her.

“When you’re done eating, just leave the dishes soaking in water. I’m heading out.”

“Always so diligent, Master. Is today a running day?”

Momoka asks as she watches me, dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and running tights, while munching on a piece of toast.

“Yeah. I’m going for about 8 kilometers.”

“Whoa~ I don’t know how you can run that far.”

“Shogi players work from home, so we need to be proactive about getting exercise. Matches are physically demanding too.”

“True that~”

“Wanna run with me, Momoka?”

“No thanks. I can’t keep up with your pace, Master. I like ball sports, but I’m not really into just plain running.”

She’s pretty slim, so I think she’d actually be good at long-distance running. It’s kind of a waste.

“It feels great when your time improves in a marathon. Like shogi, it’s all about battling yourself.”

“Well, that’s where you and I differ, Master. For me, shogi will always be a battlefield—a kill-or-be-killed fight with the opponent.”

That’s a pretty violent way to talk for a girl calmly eating breakfast, but professional players tend to have their own strong opinions and philosophies about shogi.

And those beliefs are personal—something they won’t compromise on, even with their master.

If you don’t have that inner conviction, you’ll never become a pro in the first place.

“Anyway, lock up when you leave for school. See you later.”

If we keep talking about shogi, it’ll turn into a long debate—or worse, a fight—so I quickly wrap up and head out.

“See you later, Master.”

Momoka understands that too, so she doesn’t try to stop me and just sees me off.

“Aah… I messed up…”

After finishing a refreshing morning run, soaked in sweat, I crouch down and bury my head in my hands in front of my apartment door.

I forgot my house key.

“The door… yeah, it’s locked, of course it is.”

Clinging to a sliver of hope, I try the doorknob, but of course it doesn’t budge.

I had told Momoka to make sure to lock the door when she left.

Good job, disciple… sigh…

“So what now…”

All I have on me is my phone and a 5,000 yen bill stashed in my phone case for emergencies.

I could kill time at a café until Momoka gets home from school—I’ve got both cash and electronic payment.

But a guy drenched in sweat showing up at a café might not go over well.

Plus, I don’t have anything to pass the time, and no charger either, so my phone won’t last the whole day.

A manga café might work. They usually have rental showers and charging stations too.

But today wasn’t supposed to be a rest day, and wasting it binge-reading manga doesn’t sit right with me…

Especially since I just vowed the other day to stop Momoka from becoming the Meijin. Slacking on my shogi study already would be pathetic.

“I guess… I have no choice.”

Sighing, I start walking toward the middle school Momoka attends.