PoT: 5 games ryoma can't win; ficlet
For storyteller.
5 games Ryoma can't win.
01. The day after Nanjirou gets kicked out of the final rounds of the World Chess Championship for quarreling with his opponent, a 40-something-Indian professor with a paunch, over a "touch move", Rinko announces that she is pregnant. "Promise me," she says, "that you won't try to teach him chess."
"How do you know it's a boy?" Nanjirou asks. A few weeks later, they are divorced.
Twelve years later, Nanjirou opens the door for a short, scrawny boy in a hat and athletic shorts. He looks too much like Nanjirou, not at all like Rinko. He has a backpack, a pair of green-brown eyes, and a spotted Himalayan cat. "Teach me chess," he says immediately. When he looks up at Nanjirou's face, Nanjirou thinks he is falling from a 50-story building. He is the most beautiful thing Nanjirou has ever seen.
"No," Nanjirou says, and slams the door, locks it just to be sure.
A year later Echizen Ryoma wins the World Junior Chess Championship. Nanjirou tells everyone that he has no idea who the boy is. Only his close friends know that Ryoma calls him once a day, even though Nanjirou never answers.
02. Inui shakes his head. "Look," he says, closing his notebook with a snap, "he's not going to be any good to us unless he stops mentally playing a 21 point game."
"Still?" Tezuka asks, surprised. Inui's expression, like always, is unreadable. Past Inui's shoulder, Tezuka can see Ryoma with a towel draped around his shoulders, staring gloomily down at the side of his bat with pips. Tezuka sighs. "Why?"
Shrugging, Inui says, "He was paying attention for the first game. Then the second game, I got to 11, and he instinctively reached for the ball to serve again." Inui puts his notebook down. "Tezuka, I think you should talk to him." A stray ball from one of the freshmen roll up next to Inui's feet. He picks it up and tosses it in the air, as if he were about to juggle. "I just make him angry." There is a heavy moment as Inui considers Tezuka from head to toe, and then smiles. "You're buchou after all."
Ryoma doesn't even turn his head when Tezuka approaches him. "Sorry about the ball," he mutters. "I didn't mean to it hit so hard. I'll pay for it."
Tezuka eyes the broken fragments of the ball lying on the table. He sweeps it into one hand, dumps it into a trashcan, and then turns back to Ryoma's recalcitrant figure. "It's fine," he says. "We have plenty more." Ryoma absently nods. No one says anything for a bit. The sounds of balls flying, ricocheting off rubber and wooden tables, seem like alien birds singing.
"Inui told me you are having some problems," Tezuka finally says.
"Huh," Ryoma snorts.
"Are you?"
"Not particularly."
Tezuka folds his arms, disquieted. "Echizen," he says shaply, and keeps himself from looking startled at how quickly Ryoma snaps his head up in response. "We can't put you on the regulars until we're sure you can follow the rules."
"I can follow the rules," Ryoma snaps.
"Echizen," Tezuka says, taking a step forward. Ryoma is shorter than him by a great deal. This close, Tezuka can almost feel Ryoma's body heat radiating off of him, watch the sweat form at his temples, slide down his cheek. "Why are you playing ping pong?"
Ryoma blinks just once. Then he smiles a little stiffly, bringing his towel up to wipe off his face. "There's a person I need to beat," he says simply. "I've played him all my life. He still thinks there are 21 points."
"Who is it?"
From across the gym, someone is calling for Ryoma to help them pick up the balls. Practice is over. Tezuka can see just on the fringes of his peripheral vision that Oishi is patiently waiting for Tezuka to finish. Ryoma brushes past Tezuka with a deferential nod. "My dad," he says. His elbow grazes Tezuka's side. The feeling lingers long after he is gone.
Tezuka goes home and does a search for Ryoma's dad. The next day he asks Inui about it, but Inui tells him he already knew. "What?" Tezuka asks, surprised, and Inui shrugs with his typical ambiguity.
"Echizen is not a very common last name," he explains. "Well? What are you going to do about it?"
"I have no idea," Tezuka admits. He means to think about it, but the subsequent week he has two math tests and the annual ranking matches to plan out. He spends a lot of time after school with Oishi making tedious decisions instead of playing ping pong. Then, the day before the ranking tournament, he puts a note in Ryoma's shoe locker in the morning. Meet me in the gym during lunch. Bring your bat.
03. "Again," Nanjirou shouts from where he watching Ryoma on the porch.
"This is the forty-third time," Ryoma shouts back. He jumps, shoots, barely manages to keep his legs from folding under him when he lands. The ball sinks into the basket with a satisfying thud.
"Forty-second," Nanjirou corrects. "Again. You're still not bringing your hands up correctly." He demonstrates, throwing an orange. On his lap, Karupin meows lazily, and purrs when Nanjirou's fingers sink back into its fur.
"You're delusional," Ryoma grumbles, but jumps again. This time when he lands, he does fall. The asphalt bites into his bare knees and he is bleeding when he stands up.
"Again," Nanjirou commands. Ryoma shakes his head. "Until you get it right," Nanjirou tells him.
"No," Ryoma says. His eyes are furiously bright. He tucks the basketball under his left arm and absently streaks blood on his face when he wipes off his forehead. "I'm done."
Nanjirou says, scornful, "This is the only way you'll ever have even a chance of playing. What, with your height? I practiced more than you, and I'm not a midget."
"Old man," Ryoma warns.
"If I had two legs like yours," Nanjirou sneers, "I wouldn't stop at 100 jump shots." He tucks his blanket closer around his waist, wheeling himself around to go back into the house. "Do it again. If you can't get it perfect tonight, you might as well stop playing."
Ryoma watches him until he can no longer hear the wheelchair creaking. He then drops the ball on the ground, rubbing his palms on his shorts. Picks it up, holds it in both hands, as if weighing it. With as much strength as he can, he throws it in the direction of the basket. The ball jumps back as soon it hits the backboard, sailing almost straight into Ryoma's face. He catches it just in time.
04. At the press conference following the match, Echizen was quoted as saying, "My father didn't teach me everything I know about soccer. But he did teach me everything I know about losing."
This is Japan's second year in second place.
05. During the final round for the Honinbo, Nanjirou dies. Under Rinko's express orders, no one tells Ryoma, and he manages to win the title, finally, from Hikaru.
After the funeral, Hikaru persuades Akira into talking to Ryoma. "Tell him it's okay to cry," he keeps reminding Akira. Akira does, for ten minutes. When he's about to give up and tell Hikaru to do it himself, Ryoma unfolds himself from the couch and goes to the window.
"You don't understand," he says, his voice strained with anger. "You don't understand. I never managed to beat him. Not even once."
Akira goes home that day despondent. "I don't think we should leave him alone with himself," Hikaru muses over dinner. Akira agrees.
A week afterwards, Ryoma calls Hikaru in the middle of a class at Akira's go salon. When Hikaru shows up, Ryoma hands him a can of soda and almost pushes him down onto the couch. "Tell me about Sai," he demands. Hikaru almost spits the soda all over Ryoma's carpet.
"How do you--" Hikaru starts, but Ryoma interrupts, "Touya told me. Hikaru, please."
On the coffee table, Hikaru sees the remains of a go game. White looks like Ryoma's handiwork. As for black, Hikaru hasn't seen those kinds of plays since he read the kifus from Nanjirou's Meijin rounds.
we don't have this, we don't have that
a greed that wants to grant every wish
as if to softly envelop all the things we lack
the wind tenderly trembles in the evening calm's close
-- asian kung-fu generation, "kaigan doori"
5 games Ryoma can't win.
01. The day after Nanjirou gets kicked out of the final rounds of the World Chess Championship for quarreling with his opponent, a 40-something-Indian professor with a paunch, over a "touch move", Rinko announces that she is pregnant. "Promise me," she says, "that you won't try to teach him chess."
"How do you know it's a boy?" Nanjirou asks. A few weeks later, they are divorced.
Twelve years later, Nanjirou opens the door for a short, scrawny boy in a hat and athletic shorts. He looks too much like Nanjirou, not at all like Rinko. He has a backpack, a pair of green-brown eyes, and a spotted Himalayan cat. "Teach me chess," he says immediately. When he looks up at Nanjirou's face, Nanjirou thinks he is falling from a 50-story building. He is the most beautiful thing Nanjirou has ever seen.
"No," Nanjirou says, and slams the door, locks it just to be sure.
A year later Echizen Ryoma wins the World Junior Chess Championship. Nanjirou tells everyone that he has no idea who the boy is. Only his close friends know that Ryoma calls him once a day, even though Nanjirou never answers.
02. Inui shakes his head. "Look," he says, closing his notebook with a snap, "he's not going to be any good to us unless he stops mentally playing a 21 point game."
"Still?" Tezuka asks, surprised. Inui's expression, like always, is unreadable. Past Inui's shoulder, Tezuka can see Ryoma with a towel draped around his shoulders, staring gloomily down at the side of his bat with pips. Tezuka sighs. "Why?"
Shrugging, Inui says, "He was paying attention for the first game. Then the second game, I got to 11, and he instinctively reached for the ball to serve again." Inui puts his notebook down. "Tezuka, I think you should talk to him." A stray ball from one of the freshmen roll up next to Inui's feet. He picks it up and tosses it in the air, as if he were about to juggle. "I just make him angry." There is a heavy moment as Inui considers Tezuka from head to toe, and then smiles. "You're buchou after all."
Ryoma doesn't even turn his head when Tezuka approaches him. "Sorry about the ball," he mutters. "I didn't mean to it hit so hard. I'll pay for it."
Tezuka eyes the broken fragments of the ball lying on the table. He sweeps it into one hand, dumps it into a trashcan, and then turns back to Ryoma's recalcitrant figure. "It's fine," he says. "We have plenty more." Ryoma absently nods. No one says anything for a bit. The sounds of balls flying, ricocheting off rubber and wooden tables, seem like alien birds singing.
"Inui told me you are having some problems," Tezuka finally says.
"Huh," Ryoma snorts.
"Are you?"
"Not particularly."
Tezuka folds his arms, disquieted. "Echizen," he says shaply, and keeps himself from looking startled at how quickly Ryoma snaps his head up in response. "We can't put you on the regulars until we're sure you can follow the rules."
"I can follow the rules," Ryoma snaps.
"Echizen," Tezuka says, taking a step forward. Ryoma is shorter than him by a great deal. This close, Tezuka can almost feel Ryoma's body heat radiating off of him, watch the sweat form at his temples, slide down his cheek. "Why are you playing ping pong?"
Ryoma blinks just once. Then he smiles a little stiffly, bringing his towel up to wipe off his face. "There's a person I need to beat," he says simply. "I've played him all my life. He still thinks there are 21 points."
"Who is it?"
From across the gym, someone is calling for Ryoma to help them pick up the balls. Practice is over. Tezuka can see just on the fringes of his peripheral vision that Oishi is patiently waiting for Tezuka to finish. Ryoma brushes past Tezuka with a deferential nod. "My dad," he says. His elbow grazes Tezuka's side. The feeling lingers long after he is gone.
Tezuka goes home and does a search for Ryoma's dad. The next day he asks Inui about it, but Inui tells him he already knew. "What?" Tezuka asks, surprised, and Inui shrugs with his typical ambiguity.
"Echizen is not a very common last name," he explains. "Well? What are you going to do about it?"
"I have no idea," Tezuka admits. He means to think about it, but the subsequent week he has two math tests and the annual ranking matches to plan out. He spends a lot of time after school with Oishi making tedious decisions instead of playing ping pong. Then, the day before the ranking tournament, he puts a note in Ryoma's shoe locker in the morning. Meet me in the gym during lunch. Bring your bat.
03. "Again," Nanjirou shouts from where he watching Ryoma on the porch.
"This is the forty-third time," Ryoma shouts back. He jumps, shoots, barely manages to keep his legs from folding under him when he lands. The ball sinks into the basket with a satisfying thud.
"Forty-second," Nanjirou corrects. "Again. You're still not bringing your hands up correctly." He demonstrates, throwing an orange. On his lap, Karupin meows lazily, and purrs when Nanjirou's fingers sink back into its fur.
"You're delusional," Ryoma grumbles, but jumps again. This time when he lands, he does fall. The asphalt bites into his bare knees and he is bleeding when he stands up.
"Again," Nanjirou commands. Ryoma shakes his head. "Until you get it right," Nanjirou tells him.
"No," Ryoma says. His eyes are furiously bright. He tucks the basketball under his left arm and absently streaks blood on his face when he wipes off his forehead. "I'm done."
Nanjirou says, scornful, "This is the only way you'll ever have even a chance of playing. What, with your height? I practiced more than you, and I'm not a midget."
"Old man," Ryoma warns.
"If I had two legs like yours," Nanjirou sneers, "I wouldn't stop at 100 jump shots." He tucks his blanket closer around his waist, wheeling himself around to go back into the house. "Do it again. If you can't get it perfect tonight, you might as well stop playing."
Ryoma watches him until he can no longer hear the wheelchair creaking. He then drops the ball on the ground, rubbing his palms on his shorts. Picks it up, holds it in both hands, as if weighing it. With as much strength as he can, he throws it in the direction of the basket. The ball jumps back as soon it hits the backboard, sailing almost straight into Ryoma's face. He catches it just in time.
04. At the press conference following the match, Echizen was quoted as saying, "My father didn't teach me everything I know about soccer. But he did teach me everything I know about losing."
This is Japan's second year in second place.
05. During the final round for the Honinbo, Nanjirou dies. Under Rinko's express orders, no one tells Ryoma, and he manages to win the title, finally, from Hikaru.
After the funeral, Hikaru persuades Akira into talking to Ryoma. "Tell him it's okay to cry," he keeps reminding Akira. Akira does, for ten minutes. When he's about to give up and tell Hikaru to do it himself, Ryoma unfolds himself from the couch and goes to the window.
"You don't understand," he says, his voice strained with anger. "You don't understand. I never managed to beat him. Not even once."
Akira goes home that day despondent. "I don't think we should leave him alone with himself," Hikaru muses over dinner. Akira agrees.
A week afterwards, Ryoma calls Hikaru in the middle of a class at Akira's go salon. When Hikaru shows up, Ryoma hands him a can of soda and almost pushes him down onto the couch. "Tell me about Sai," he demands. Hikaru almost spits the soda all over Ryoma's carpet.
"How do you--" Hikaru starts, but Ryoma interrupts, "Touya told me. Hikaru, please."
On the coffee table, Hikaru sees the remains of a go game. White looks like Ryoma's handiwork. As for black, Hikaru hasn't seen those kinds of plays since he read the kifus from Nanjirou's Meijin rounds.
we don't have this, we don't have that
a greed that wants to grant every wish
as if to softly envelop all the things we lack
the wind tenderly trembles in the evening calm's close
-- asian kung-fu generation, "kaigan doori"