Kin stood and took his place opposite the old man. He noticed Daichi had opted to play the dark side, which surprised him more than a little. Jade moved first, and Kin made a standard foray with his pawn. Daichi followed immediately, calloused fingers on black glass. He moved without hesitation or flourish, stone-steady; the hand of a sword-saint. No trace of age or frailty in his motion, even if the same could not be said of his flesh.
They played without speaking, soundless save for the crackling spit of cedar logs, the hymn of fading autumn. Whenever Kin glanced up, Daichi was watching the board, intent solely on the game. Kin considered each step, shifting into gradual attack. Daichi would clear his throat and sip his tea, then move with seemingly little thought, but Kin soon realized the old man was a masterful player. His first attack was repelled, the second ended with a crushing loss, and Daichi’s riposte finished with Lord Izanagi threatened on three facings.
Kin laid the Maker God on his side.
“You do not commit.” Daichi poured himself more tea from a charred pot by the fire. “You defend and attack, at odds even with yourself.”
Kin shrugged. “My style, I suppose.”
The old man picked up Kin’s empress, sitting untouched on the rear line. “You hold on to her like she will save you.”
“She’s the strongest piece on the board.”
“She is worthless unless you use her, Kin-san.”
“Losing her means losing the game.”
“Folly. One piece matters, and one only.” He tapped his Emperor upon the head. “All else is fodder.”
“You can’t win the game with only an Emperor.”
“He and a single pawn are enough, if you strip your opponent of all he possesses. It is worth losing almost everything if you leave the enemy with nothing at all.”
“Victory at any cost?”
“The stakes demand conviction. There is no prize for second in this game.”
“You just said defeat could be a great teacher.”
“I did.” Daichi winced as he cleared his throat. “But there comes a time when the cost of losing is too high. When all must be risked for victory.”
The old man was seized by a coughing fit, a long wracking spasm, stifled with another mouthful of tea. He regained his breath, hawked a mouthful of spit to sizzle in the fire. When he wiped his hand across his lips, Kin’s heart lurched about his insides, cold dread stilling his belly.
A black stain glistened on Daichi’s knuckles.
“Oh, no…” Kin said.
Daichi stared at the smear for a long moment, steady hands, measured breath.
“And there comes a time when there is no time left at all,” he murmured.
“… You have blacklung.”
“A fitting end,” Daichi shrugged. “There are few more deserving.”
“How long have you known?”
“Not long.” The old man sniffed. “Long enough.”
“I’m so sorry, Daichi…”
“Do not be.” He rubbed the burn scars on his arms. “It is a fate well earned.”
“Does Kaori know?”
“She does not.” The old man glared. “And she will not learn it from you either.”
“You don’t think she’s going to find out eventually?”
“In time.” A shrug. “All things become clear as Iishi rain in time.”
Kin ran his palm through the short hair on his scalp, across the back of his neck. He felt sick, stomach in oily knots, thinking about the fate awaiting Daichi down the road. Not a warrior’s end. Not a hero’s. He pictured the blacklung beggars in Kigen’s gutters; wretches coughing their insides out, trembling hands filled with dark, bloody mouthfuls.
He knew the things Daichi had done, the murder that stained his hands—the Daiyakawa peasants, Yukiko’s own pregnant mother. But nobody deserved to die like that.
Daichi took another sip of tea.
“You did not come here to play chess.”
Kin blinked. “No, I didn’t. I want you to release Ayane from her cage.”
“The lotusgirl has done nothing to inspire our faith. Freeing her would be unwise.”
“If you’re worried about her, why not release into my care? I guarantee—”
“There are few amongst us who hold faith in you either, Kin-san.”
“But do you?”
The old man wiped blackened knuckles on his hakama. “A little more each day.”
“Then wouldn’t you feel better knowing I was watching her full time?”
“Why, would you?”
They looked at each other across the ruins of Kin’s forces. Brick-heavy silence, firelight flickering in double crescents across Daichi’s eyes.
Kin heard soft footsteps on the landing, creaking floorboards. A quiet knock, the door peeling open to admit muted daylight, still painfully bright after so long in the gloom. Kaori stepped into the room with whisper-light feet, fringe swept back under the goggles perched upon her head. Her scar gleamed angry red on teak-stain skin.
“Father, Ryusaki sends word. They are near Jukai prov—”
She stopped short as her eyes adjusted, spied Kin kneeling by the chessboard.
“Jukai province?” Kin blinked. “You mean the Stain? Is that where Ryusaki was headed? The Guild staging grounds are…”
Kaori glared. Mute. Hand on her wakizashi hilt.
“… I will take my leave, then.” Kin stood, covered his fist and bowed.
“I enjoyed our game, Kin-san.” Daichi nodded to the board. “Though when next we play, I will expect more commitment in your attack. Perhaps tomorrow?”