Chapter 620

He pointed at the screen, his face full of frustration.

"Look—talent used in the wrong place, he’s definitely going to be mocked once he loses!"

"He was born to stand on the pitcher's mound; that 158 km/h fastball is the right path he should be taking!"

As he spoke.

He changed the subject.

"But then again... so what if he loses this game? Once our baseball club crushes Private Tenhao head-on! That will be true satisfaction, true revenge! By then, some Honda Takashi will have to step aside in the face of Natsume’s fastball!"

Other teachers heard this; some shook their heads with a smile, while others were lost in thought.

It seemed... compared to shogi, where the outcome was uncertain and it was easy to harbor grudges, using absolute strength to crush an opponent on the baseball field was indeed a more suitable, more satisfying way to get revenge?

The Kondo household.

Kondo Miyuki saw that Natsume Chikage had randomly drawn that vengeful opponent Honda, and her eyes were inevitably filled with worry.

She was very worried that after Natsume Chikage lost, he would be in pain and distress because of the other party's mockery.

By that time... it seemed she would have to find a way to comfort Natsume-kun herself.

And it would be best to bring Miki along; if the two of them went together, it could also help them grow closer.

After Natsume-kun loses, she would ask Miki about it later.

The Natsume family main residence, a spacious and elegantly decorated living room.

The air was filled with the faint scent of incense and the stifling feeling of an old-fashioned family.

A maid silently placed a cup of freshly brewed gyokuro tea on the low table beside Natsume Tsubakie, then bowed and retreated.

Natsume Tsubakie leaned elegantly on the sofa, her long legs crossed, her gaze resting calmly on the huge television screen in front of her.

The live broadcast was giving Natsume Chikage a close-up; the youth’s brows and eyes, focused in thought, were exceptionally clear under the ultra-high-definition lens.

Not far away.

Natsume Chikage’s uncle, Natsume Natsume Qi Society, was facing the television screen, letting out an undisguised sneer.

"Hahaha, what did I say? The sixth round, that’s the end of the line!"

"Winning from the first round to the fifth, it only adds up to three hundred and ten thousand yen. Plus that meager salary he makes working part-time at a coffee shop, in a place like Tokyo, how many months can he last?"

He turned his head, a fawning smile plastered on his face, and said to the young man sitting in the main seat:

"Haoya, look, we don't even need to go to any trouble. Once this little bit of money is spent and life becomes difficult, he’ll know how to choose for himself. By then, he’ll have to come back obediently and beg us to take him in, won't he?"

The young man he called "Haoya"—Natsume Yuzhen, the future heir of the main family—lifted his eyelids slightly.

His gaze lingered on Natsume Chikage’s face on the screen for a moment; that overly outstanding appearance made him frown imperceptibly, which then transformed into a hint of condescending amusement.

"So this is... that cousin from the branch family?" His voice carried the laziness of someone born into privilege.

"His looks are actually more striking than they appeared in the files. No wonder Grandfather had the idea to have him come back and be a 'vase'."

He sipped his tea and continued in a tone as if evaluating merchandise:

"Marriage, after all, a good-looking face can indeed add some points. As for shogi... it seems to be just that. As a 'talent' to add some flair and coax those ladies and wives who pretend to be cultured, it’s barely enough."

He set down his teacup and ordered casually:

"Uncle Natsume Qi Society, after this match is over, go and make some moves. Buy the apartment he’s living in now, or find some other way."

"Make life for him and his sister a little more 'difficult.' Once they experience the cold reality, they will naturally understand that returning to the wings of the Natsume family is the only wise choice."

A glow of joy immediately bloomed on Natsume Natsume Qi Society’s face, and he nodded repeatedly.

"Understood! With those words from you, Yuzhen, your uncle knows what to do! Leave it to me!"

Natsume Tsubakie’s hand holding the teacup paused slightly.

She lowered her eyelids, her thick lashes masking the complex look that flashed through her eyes, and just watched the tea in her cup, lost in thought.

The game of shogi began with the crisp sound of pieces being placed.

Honda Takashi held the first move.

He took a deep breath, his eyes sharp as a hawk eyeing its prey, the curve of his mouth carrying undisguised superiority.

The opening was the solid and steady “Yagura” prototype.

He did not choose a more aggressive opening; facing an opponent rumored to be a “fast-mover” whose style might lean toward intuition and chaotic fighting, he decided to use his deepest foundation to build an impregnable fortress.

What he wanted to use was textbook orthodoxy, the thickness accumulated through years of hard training, like the tide hitting a sandcastle, using impeccable piece shapes and calculations to completely wash away the opponent’s bit of “surprise” and “luck.”

“Clack.”

The move was steady, the force just right, and the echo from the nutmeg wood board was heavy and determined.

Xia Xia Muchun’s response had no hesitation.

Almost in the same frame that Honda’s fingertips left the clock button, his fingers had already picked up a piece.

“Tap.”

The sound of the piece landing was light, fast, and steady, like raindrops falling on a bluestone, clean and neat.

The first dozen moves of the opening flew by in the alternating “clack” and “tap,” the rhythm so fast that some of the audience held their breath.

Honda Takashi advanced unhurriedly, building a solid “Yagura” position.

Xia Xia Muchun countered tit-for-tat, setting up a “Static Rook” formation, with clear pointing of force and distinct walls.

Everything seemed to be within the scope of orthodox openings, as if the two shogi players were tacitly replicating an ancient game record.

The ripples in Honda Takashi’s heart caused by the pre-match turmoil gradually subsided, replaced by a sense of control that said “sure enough.”

He just felt that this Xia Xia Muchun’s luck was probably exhausted.

Not daring to use a fast-attack method, the style became steady?

It must be that he was afraid of him.

What a third-rate player with a hard mouth!

He even leaned back slightly, adjusting to a more comfortable sitting position, as if victory was already in his grasp.

However, the signs of change always grow quietly beneath the calm.

As the pieces crossed the river one by one, the moment of “breaking away from the fixed pattern and fighting at close quarters” that he had anticipated seemed to have arrived.

But Xia Xia Muchun’s speed of moving pieces showed no signs of slowing down.

“Tap.”

“Tap.”

“Tap.”

Every crisp sound landed precisely on those points on the board that seemed ordinary but made Honda’s layout feel “stagnant.”

Either lightly reinforcing, or exchanging in a seemingly plain way, or steadily pushing forward one step.

There were no earth-shattering brilliant moves, but every step was like a precise scalpel, cutting into the most subtle “tendons” of Honda’s formation that needed smooth operation.

Honda Takashi frowned slightly.

He tried to get rid of this sticky feeling and took the initiative to launch a tentative offensive on the flank; a “Silver General” quietly pressed forward like an extended tentacle.

Xia Xia Muchun’s response was so fast it seemed to require no thought.

Just as the echo of Honda’s fingertips leaving the clock button hadn't dissipated, a seemingly defensive “long cover” had already fallen.

This move not only lightly parried his probe but, like foreknowledge, vaguely threatened the “Rook” path that was still developing on his other side, forcing him to be distracted.

The curve of Honda Takashi’s mouth, which had been calm, disappeared completely.

This move… the timing and selection were too tricky; it didn't look like an adaptation, but rather as if he had anticipated his movements long ago.

His nostrils flared slightly, he restrained his previous laziness, leaned forward, locked his eyes on the chessboard like torches, and began to spend more time than in the opening to weigh his next move.

On the shogi clock, the red number representing his thinking time jumped past the “one minute” mark for the first time.

On the commentary stage, Inoue Masazo immediately captured this signal.

“Oh? Honda-senshu’s thinking time is increasing. Xia-senshu still maintains an amazing ‘second-response’ speed. The opening is over, the situation looks… very balanced, or even one could say, Xia-senshu didn't let Honda-senshu take any advantage in the response.”

Nanjo Maiko nodded in addition, her tone carrying a hint of surprise:

“Xia-senshu’s defense is airtight, and the response is as precise as if measured with a ruler. Honda-senshu wants to open up the situation, it seems he needs to come up with more effective means.”

The game slid silently into the middle game, and the heaviness in the air quietly intensified.

Honda Takashi’s eyes became extremely focused, even revealing a hint of coldness.

He decided to end the probe and sacrifice his “middle-game tactics” that he had polished for a long time and was proud of.

The “Silver General” and “Knight” were delicately mobilized by him, forming a flexible linkage, like two strange soldiers fighting in coordination, suddenly launching a compact and varied offensive against Xia Xia Muchun’s seemingly solid position.