If I Become a Meijin, Will you Marry me, Master? - Chapter 5

“C’mon, Master~ Please cheer up already!”

On the way home from school after the commotion about the suspicious person had finally settled down, I walked briskly ahead while Momoka trotted after me with quick little steps.

“Seriously~ The principal and Ms. Suzu all understood that my ‘boyfriend’ comment was just a joke, didn’t they?”

“Shut up! You were trying to socially annihilate your master!”

Just when things were finally starting to calm down, Momoka went and dropped a bomb that stirred everything up again, and I had to explain myself all over again.

The fact that we live in the same apartment building only made things worse.

If it were just a misunderstanding about being a suspicious person, that could be laughed off. But a suspicion of an inappropriate relationship with a minor? That’s no laughing matter!

“Even if the whole world turns against you, Master, I’ll never abandon you. I’ll take care of you lovingly at home until the very end.”

“What exactly do you expect me to do to get the whole world against me!? And what do you mean ‘take care of’ me!?”

This disciple is terrifying.

What’s even scarier is that with the amount of media attention Momoka gets, she probably really could ruin me socially all by herself.

Just a nobody pro shogi player, versus a beautiful middle school girl pro.

It’s obvious whose side the public would believe.

“So why did you joke about me being your boyfriend in the first place?”

“Oh, would it have been better if I’d introduced you as my fiancé? We’ve known each other a long time, and I’m totally fine with a zero-days-of-dating marriage.”

“That’s not the part I’m objecting to!”

There’s no such thing as engagement for girls Momoka’s age in modern Japan! And on top of that, with a master-disciple relationship, people are bound to jump to the worst conclusions.

“Well, let’s just put that topic aside for future consideration. But honestly, the reason I called you my boyfriend was to keep guys away.”

“Keep guys away?”

I didn’t quite get what she meant, so I asked her to explain.

“Think about it—I transferred here in the middle of January, in my second year of middle school. I’m the mysterious beautiful girl transfer student, remember?”

“I’ll give you credit for being able to call yourself a ‘beautiful transfer student’ with a straight face. That kind of boldness is perfect for a pro shogi player.”

“I’m super cute, bright, good at both school and sports. Naturally, I’m insanely popular.”

“I do admire how you keep pushing through even when I mock you.”

“That’s an objective analysis. And now, I’ve got the title of ‘genius girl middle school shogi pro’ added to my résumé. So, Master, tell me—what has increased along with that title? Yes! Your answer, Makoto!”

No matter how many counterattacks I launched, my disciple didn’t falter one bit. Like a TV host tossing a quiz to a guest, she threw me a prompt.

“Don’t call me by my first name. Hmm… what’s increased since you became a pro? Let’s see… your level of being annoying?”

“The correct answer is: my popularity with boys! And Master, that was just mean!”

Like I’d give a straight answer to such a leading question.

“Heehee~ Are you sure you want to say that, Master? Just the other day, the sub-captain of the third-year soccer team gave me his contact info. Before that, it was the student council president—straight A’s across the board—who did the same. They both said they were interested in shogi and wanted to have a chat sometime.”

“Hmm…”

Not remotely interested, I turned my eyes toward a nearby store.

Oh, there’s a little fish market here.

Looks like they’ve got good quality stuff. I should come by and shop here sometime.

“What should I do~? I’m so troubled~”

Sneaking glances to check my reaction, Momoka kept darting her eyes between her phone and me.

Oh hey, they’ve even got pre-cut sashimi.

Fish markets like this usually have really good, fresh stuff.

“Well, shogi promotion is an important part of being a pro. Good luck with that, disciple.”

“That’s not the reaction I was hoping for, Master!”

Hah. I’m an adult.

Back in school, I might’ve gotten flustered, but I’m not about to be shaken up over some student council president or soccer star.

Watching Momoka pout as her attempt to make me jealous utterly failed, I couldn’t help feeling a little smug—as both her master and a grown-up, even if it was a bit childish of me.

At the time, I thought my sense of superiority came from our age gap. But more than that…

It came from the complacent confidence of someone who had been on the receiving end of her constant “I like you” vibes for years—so much so that I hadn’t even realized…

‘Momoka is in love with me.’

I would only come to understand the true weight of that much later.

(Click, clack.)

Back home, I took a shower, then headed straight for the computer desk in my study without taking a single breath of rest.

And no, I wasn’t just browsing for fun.

This was legitimate shogi research.

When people hear “shogi study,” they probably imagine kneeling in a tatami room with a printed game record in hand, moving the pieces one by one.

But those days are long gone. In modern shogi, the primary tool of the trade is none other than this glorious invention: the desktop computer.

And what a machine it is—cost me about as much as a small car!

By far the most expensive thing in my apartment.

If the place ever caught fire, this tower PC would be the first thing I’d try to save.

Not that I could carry it… it’s way too heavy.

“Ma~ster!”

“Wah! You scared the crap out of me! What the heck!?”

I was deep in thought staring at the monitor when Momoka suddenly wrapped her arms around my neck from behind. My heart practically jumped out of my chest.

“I called you like five times. You didn’t hear me, did you?”

“Ah… yeah, sorry.”

When I’m deep in thought during a research session, all my senses go dull.

“Well, I’m the same when I’m concentrating. So it’s mutual, Master.”

With that, she plopped down on my lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She’d changed into a casual outfit—sweater and jeans—with her hair tied loosely back with a scrunchie. Up close, she had this gentle, sweet scent that tickled my nose.

“You’re heavy…”

“Don’t tell a lady she’s heavy, Master.”

I tossed that out half-jokingly, trying to wrestle my instincts into submission, but she shot it right back without missing a beat.

“So, is this the first game of this year’s Meijin title match?”

“You figured that out from one glance at the board?”

“I was curious about that move the Meijin made on move 106—it seemed like he left it to fate.”

Sitting on my lap, Momoka stared seriously at the board displayed on the screen.

“It took real guts to play that in the endgame.”

“According to the AI, that’s the one moment where the challenger actually had the upper hand. Why did the Meijin go for such a move?”

Momoka looked at the line graph showing the game’s evaluation. The Meijin had been slowly gaining ground all game—until that move, when the tide briefly turned.

“He probably figured that in a time scramble, the challenger wouldn’t be able to find the best response.”

“True, it would be hard to read through all the variations under time pressure. But still, isn’t it kind of a bad move?”

“It’s a psychological trap. The Meijin made a move that looked dubious on purpose, to rattle the challenger—who’d been playing carefully all along, wary of any tricks. That one move made him hesitate and switch from attack to defense. That hesitation gave the Meijin time to regroup and go on the offensive. And that was the beginning of the end.”

“I see. Discussing it with you really helps, Master. You explain the emotional context too.”

“As a shogi player, you understand, right?”

“Actually, I think I’m a bit different from the rest of you. No matter how badly I’m losing, or how many pieces I sacrifice, I always play with a flat mind.”

“…I see.”

I gave a vague response to Momoka’s unsettling, emotionless statement.

She sees a world I can’t, and even as her teacher, I had nothing to say in return.

If you walk on thin ice, your steps slow. If you’re on a narrow cliffside path, your legs freeze up.

These are natural human emotions.

But Momoka doesn’t have them.

And in the world of competition, where strength equals justice, trying to “correct” a genius by forcing them into a mold is nothing but wrong.

After our analysis, I shut the shogi program. That was the signal that our study session was over.

“Alright, time to make dinner.”

“I already made it!”

“No kidding!? Thanks!”

“My parents sent me more veggies again. And with us being busy starting tomorrow, I figured I should prep them while I could. It’s veggie soup tonight!”

“That’s all you know how to make, huh.”

“Hey, in the Hiryuu household, eating plenty of vegetables is the key to surviving life.”

Apparently, when she started living alone, her mom taught her the recipe for veggie soup as a survival skill.

“By the way, what’s on the schedule tomorrow again?”

I opened my calendar app on my phone.

“Geez! Tomorrow is our overnight date trip to Tokyo!”

“It’s just an early trip for your match! Your final day of the Sandan League, no less! Wait, you went to school and cooked dinner the day before your big matches!?”

“That’s the part that surprises you? Anyway, I’m already in first place in the league. My promotion to 4-dan is practically guaranteed. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Back when I was about to be promoted, I was so nervous before the final matches that I nearly threw up…

Watching Momoka cheerfully ladle veggie soup into bowls, I was once again reminded:

My disciple really is a monster.