Fic: "These Games We Play" ¤Protoman, Kalinka ¤ PG-13 ¤Het. No warning
Title: These Games We Play.
Author: Nemesi.
Fandom: Rockman Classic Saga (MM)
Genre: General. Romance.
Word Count: 912.
Characters: Protoman, Kalinka.
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: Rockman, its characters, places and themes belong to Capcom, Shogakukan, ShoPro, TV Tokio, etc. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Unbeated.
Summary: Sometimes, the most fitting metaphor for life is nothing but a game.
* * * * *
Protoman studied the chessboard carefully, his eyes pausing over each piece as they came across it, taking his time to contemplate every possible course of action.
When he finally made his move, big blue eyes followed his hand from across the table. They crinkled worriedly when Protoman closed his fingers slowly and deliberately around his black Rook, widening suddenly when the piece was set down with extreme caution, and far too close to the white King for comfort.
Kalinka made a sound of dismay deep within her throat. Hastily, she reached for her Kon’- her Knight - and moved it before her King. She realized she’d all but given it to Protoman in offering one second too late.
She sank back into the couch, arms crossed and lips pressed together in a frown. She wished she could ask him to take her move back, but experience had taught her better. Protoman was not the kind to indulge anyone on a battlefield, even one as small as a chessboard.
Protoman’s next move was easy to guess: capture the white Knight with his Rook. And yet he took his time, considering, before the inevitable happened, and the white Knight was upturned with a sharp flick of his wrist.
“Check,” he warned.
He leaned back in his seat, seemingly uninterested on his imminent victory.
Kalinka narrowed her eyes.
“You’re too good a strategist for me,” she complained, sacrificing yet another piece without meaning to.
“Then why do you insist on challenging me?” he asked. His Rook moved idly across the squares, graciously accepting the second offering.
She glowered at him for a moment, then squinted at the chessboard. She took her time, considering her options carefully. At long last, her arm strained towards her remaining Pawn, paused, then jerked quickly towards the Queen.
She looked up at Protoman with a defiant glint in her cobalt eyes.
Protoman dipped his head to a side, and said: “interesting move”. A sort of politeness that made Kalinka start to attention.
She realized her mistake as soon as she looked at the board, but could do nothing but watch in silence as her Queen was felled.
She had no chance to win, had she?
“Your defence is as impenetrable as ever,” she said softly.
Protoman watched her face drop slightly.
“We don’t have to keep playing,” he offered in a quiet voice.
Kalinka shook her head, golden curls bouncing against her cheeks.
“I want to,” was her answer, short and stubborn.
She pored over the chess board with renewed fervour. Impulsively, she grabbed the closest piece and moved it with a defiant air about her. When she peered up at him, a silent plead shone in her much-too-proud eyes.
Protoman studied her countenance, and took everything in: what her eyes would give away and what her mouth wouldn’t. He didn’t look away from her face when he reached down and capture another of her pieces.
“Check,” he murmured.
Kalinka’s lips thinned, but she did not concede. She made another move.
He answered in kind, and Kalinka’s Bishop fell out of the board without a sound.
“Check.”
Nothing but a measly Pawn was all that remained of her white army. Kalinka pushed it gently between the King and the black Rook: her last beacon of hope, pint-sized and as white as bone.
Protoman made an answering move, the only one possible. His eyes bore into hers.
“Checkmate,” he said.
Presently, Kalinka’s white King stood alone in the middle of the battlefield, encircled by waves of ebony-black enemies, slick and cold, and as beautiful as they were deadly.
She glanced at the lone survivor on the board, then back up at Protoman, and showed him her palm. A gesture of surrender, though belied by her words.
“You can’t win forever.”
She thought she saw his hand hesitate a moment, then he tipped her King off with his own Queen.
She glowered at the chess board.
“I’m not giving up.”
“I know.”
“There has to be a way around your defence.”
“I know.”
“I want to get through to you.”
“I know.”
“And you can’t stop me.”
“I know.”
Her hands gripped her dress.
“Let’s play again.”
Protoman released a sigh, a weary one, like wind tearing through the trees.
“How long will we have to keep this up, Kalinka?”
“Until I get I what I want,” she answered proudly, raising her chin in the air. “Or…” she trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Or?”
“…or,” she looked up, and it was plain to see that this wasn’t about chess anymore, if it had ever been. “Until you’ll get tired of me trying.”
Protoman looked down at the chess board, long and hard. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, he upturned all his remaining pieces with a flick of his hand.
Kalinka started when he stood without a word, and reached for the fallen pieces. But his voice stopped her cold.
“Then,” he said. “We’re destined to play forever.”
She glanced up at him, like a startled birdie. His sunglasses glinted as he turned to leave, so that his face was made into pure, unbearable light for a long moment. She tried to form words, to say something before he was gone, but her mouth curved into a smile instead.
Once alone, her eyes fell on the fallen black King. Her hand hesitated but a moment before taking it to her lips.
Forever, he’d said.
She rather liked the sound that promise.
~*~おわり~*~
I’ve wanted to write about them for a while now. And somehow, the chess-game metaphor seemed SO fitting. ♥