If I Become a Meijin, Will you Marry me, Master? - Chapter 8

“Is going undefeated in the third-dan league really that amazing? The reporters around here sure are making a fuss.”

“Yes. Not even the past Meijins or prodigies who turned pro in middle school have ever accomplished it.”

“Well, but today’s the final day, right? So there must be players whose chances for promotion are already gone. Is it possible that Peach’s opponent went easy on her since it was a dead rubber match…?”

“No chance. For the lower-ranking kids in the third-dan league, if their win rate falls below a certain threshold, they get relegation points, so they’re desperate for every win. Even those whose place in the league is secure aim to improve their ranking within the league. Next season, if they’re tied in wins and losses with others, their league ranking will determine who gets promoted. So today’s single win could very well be the one that makes someone a pro. There’s no such thing as a meaningless match.”

“I see. Thank you for the detailed explanation. I’ll use it for reference in my article.”

“Not at all. Take care.”

I watched the reporter rejoin his group and let out a breath.

“Good work, Ina-chan.”

“Oh, Kyo-chan. Haven’t seen you since the Kansai Shogi Hall.”

Familiar reporter Kyo-chan walked up to me as the other left.

“Must be tough explaining all this to weekly magazine reporters who normally don’t give a damn about shogi.”

“Better I explain it properly now than have them print something incorrect.”

I moistened my dry throat with a bottle of tea.

“Well, the weeklies will probably just splash a huge photo of cute little Peach, so there might not be much space for actual text.”

“You sound jealous, Kyo-chan.”

“Of course I am. Shogi is usually stuffed in a tiny corner of the paper. I’ve never seen this kind of buzz before. And you never usually bother being friendly with reporters either.”

“It was the chairman’s order. Told me to get my face known among the press now, as Peach’s mentor.”

It was around 4 PM, and the final round of the third-dan league had started after lunch.

I was going to just wander around the building or outside until the results came in, but Chairman Kitano threw me into the press room with, “We paid for your travel, so you better earn it.”

Since members of the Apprentice League aren’t professionals yet, their game records aren’t released, and of course, the matches aren’t broadcast.

So until the matches are over, we don’t know the results.

With no new information and plenty of idle time, the press keeps tossing questions at me, a pro player, and I answer.

“Ina-chan, should be about time now?”

“No idea. But Peach will win.”

“Is that your wishful thinking as her mentor?”

“No, it’s a prediction based on her actual skill. She’s not someone an ordinary Apprentice can beat.”

The chairman had talked about the determination and intensity of those fighting for promotion, but in the world of competition, there are also differences that can’t be overcome by spirit or guts alone.

And the kind of presence Peach exudes during a match—intimidation, sheer force—is enough to overwhelm opponents. It’s not that she doesn’t get swallowed by her opponents’ pressure, she swallows them whole.

“Wow.”

“I’ve played her more than anyone else in our VS (practice matches).”

“So you’ve been guiding her personally.”

“No, she’s a valuable research partner. Has been for quite a while.”

“Huh. Lots of mentors don’t even play their disciples, so that’s rare.”

“Well… yeah.”

Honestly, in those VS matches, Peach and I are already evenly matched—or maybe soon, I won’t be able to keep up with her. That’s my honest assessment.

But even so, she still happily invites me for practice matches all the time.

“Oh! The results are in.”

A staff member from the Shogi Federation hurried into the press room.

They approached the large win-loss board at the front and marked it with a circle or cross.

“OHHHHHHHHHH!”

The press room erupted.

The third-dan league standings chart had been specially rearranged and printed in large format, ordered by current standings as of this morning.

And in the very top row, in the final column, a bold circle had been drawn.

A historic moment.

A new professional had just been born—undefeated through the grueling third-dan league, promoted in a single season.

“Whoa… this is even more crowded than last time.”

I was shocked by the number of reporters.

I thought I was used to it after Peach’s last promotion to 4-dan, but I underestimated the scale.

“Apparently, the news stations that missed the last coverage got chewed out by their higher-ups.”

“Well, it’s rare for promotions to be decided before the final round. It often hinges on other players’ match results too.”

“She’s a middle schooler, after all. Chances are high she’ll go on to win major titles or become Meijin. So if a station doesn’t have footage of her turning pro, it’ll haunt them in future broadcasts.”

Thanks to Kyo-chan’s inside scoop, it made sense why the media were in such a frenzy.

This time, it was even bigger.

There have been female pro shogi players before, but none who turned pro in middle school.

And now, Peach not only became a pro in middle school but did so by setting the new record of undefeated promotion—an added flourish to her historic achievement.

The media won’t have any trouble with their headlines tonight.

Chairman Kitano entered the press room, leading the way.

Behind him, a familiar school uniform stepped into the room.

(Flash! Flash! FLASH!!)

Amid the blinding flashes, Peach climbed onto the podium, smiling softly.

She stood at the designated spot and faced forward, prompting another wave of shutter bursts.

Her polished loafers, fresh socks, perfectly ironed skirt and sailor uniform—all prepared at the hotel the night before. Her smooth black hair caught the light and shimmered like silk.

“…It’s strange.”

She was the same girl I helped get ready last night, but standing here, she seemed like someone from another world.

Then Peach turned slightly to her right—probably to let photographers on that side get a better angle.

She’s already getting used to being in front of cameras.

Like an idol. I’ll tease her about it later.

As I mused over that, she spotted me leaning against the back wall of the press room.

“Master, I did it! Peace!”

That’s what her beaming expression and raised peace sign seemed to say.

It was a bright, innocent smile—just a normal girl’s joy.

“Peach Touka, new 4-dan! Please, look this way too!”

Reporters to her left called out, and Peach responded cheerfully.

Honestly, I doubt even an idol debut would get this kind of hype.

Standing beside her was another new 4-dan, looking a little lost.

(Sorry, Tanahashi-kun… Congratulations on your promotion.)

He had been shrouded in dark vibes on the Shinkansen ride, but he’d won both of today’s matches. With the second and third-ranked players losing, he grabbed the second promotion spot.

Since the third-ranked player didn’t already have a “promotion point,” only two were promoted this season: Peach and Tanahashi.

Still stunned, Tanahashi stood there clutching his bouquet.

“Questions for the new 4-dans!”

After the photo time ended, the Q&A session began.

“Who do you want to share this joy with most?”

“With my supportive family—and my master.”

“Same here. My family, and my master, who’s gone through so much for me.”

It was a standard question, but both new pros gave the same heartfelt answer.

Though, it was probably more emotional for Tanahashi-kun.

“Congratulations, Makabe 8-dan.”

“Ugh… uuu…”

I handed a full pack of tissues to Tanahashi’s mentor, Makabe 8-dan, who was sobbing next to me.

He needed the whole pack—his face was soaked in tears and snot.

“Thanks, Inada-kun. Bweehhh!!”

He blew his nose dramatically but luckily went unnoticed amidst the chaos.

“Didn’t expect to see you in Tokyo too, Makabe-sensei. Did you have business here?”

“Well… I was going to stay home quietly. But after I saw Shin’ya win his first match this morning, and realized he had a shot at promotion, I just couldn’t sit still. Next thing I knew, I was on a bullet train to Tokyo.”

He smoothed his thinning hair as he explained, finally calming down.

“You’re a good mentor.”

“You came with Peach from Nagoya too, didn’t you?”

“I was officially called as her guardian by the federation. They even paid my travel.”

“Oh, that’s unfair! I should’ve asked the federation to cover my ticket too!”

“Don’t ruin this heartwarming mentor-disciple story now…”

I chuckled, then turned back to look at the two new 4-dans.

The questions were “for both,” but…

“What club are you in at school?”

“I help out as a sub on the basketball team.”

“I’m not a student anymore… and I didn’t join any clubs when I was.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“My master’s homemade pudding.”

“Ramen.”

Yeah… these are just for Peach.

Poor Tanahashi-kun.

And what’s with Peach putting on the cute act?

“Your master made it?”

“Yes. He’s right over there.”

“Oh? Makabe-sensei is here too!”

When Peach pointed toward us at the back of the press room, everyone turned.

Suddenly, all eyes—and cameras—were on me and Makabe-sensei, who had failed to flee in time.

“Inada-sensei! Makabe-sensei! A few words, please!”

The shogi reporters—who actually knew our faces—rushed over first, while the others looked confused.

There’s Kyo-chan, of course, already front and center.

“About that pudding—Inada-sensei, do you really make it for her yourself?”

“Makabe-sensei, what would you like to say to your newly promoted student?”

“Uhh…”

I’d been leaning against the wall, watching like a dignified mentor, but now, faced with all these cameras, I panicked.

Maybe the older, more experienced Makabe-sensei could—

Nope.

“Uwooooon…!”

The moment he was asked about Tanahashi, he got emotional again.

He’s useless now.

I looked up at the ceiling, as if resigning before a checkmate.