1

“I've already got this in the bag. Ready to lose?” 

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Nozomu Kubo, smile on his face, loudly clacked the piece down on the board, making me grab my head as I realized my rook had been captured, when Runa Ohashi suddenly crashed into the table with enough force to flip the shogi board.

“Hey, have either of you seen my report?” 

Asking in a voice so high-pitched it hurt to listen to, Ohashi looked pleadingly at us. Her blonde hair, usually curled, was a mess, and her large eyes, framed by false lashes, twitched with anxiety.

“I haven't. Don't scare us like that, will you?” Nozomu said, still looking stunned as he picked shogi pieces off of the floor. “Did you lose it again?”

“This one was handwritten, so it's super bad! I might have to repeat the year! I don't know if I forgot it in the cafeteria yesterday or if I dropped it somewhere on campus.” 

“Well, it isn't lying around in here.” 

I, Keisuke Noguchi, looked around the dorm's small cafeteria. It was after ten o'clock and there weren't many students left, but in the back, Haruka Yoshida sat alone eating a late breakfast. Although we all lived in the same dorm, it was rare for her to show her face in front of us. She was wearing a deep black sweater, with a sharp profile that gave off an unapproachable aura as she sat, silently eating a salad at a metronome-steady pace.

“Hey, Yoshida! Have you seen my report?” 

Ohashi fearlessly ran towards her. Midway there, she turned back to us as though she'd just remembered something, stuck out her tongue, and said “Sorry for ruining your game! Hahaha!”

When I first met Runa Ohashi at the dorm meet and greet, my impression of her was “a noisy person”, and that impression hadn't changed at all in the three years I'd known her. Her lines always seemed to end with exclamation marks, and her loud, carefree laughter could be heard well before you saw her. What's more, she was a troublesome girl who ran around aimlessly and wasn't able to stop herself. At first, I sighed at the thought of being in the same dorm as someone like her and questioned how she'd even managed to get accepted to Teito University, but humans are terrifyingly adaptable creatures. Now, there was nobody in the dorm who disliked her, even though she still raised ruckuses and knocked things over wherever she went.

As I was thinking that, I heard another loud crash. I turned around and saw that Ohashi had collided with Yoshida's seat, sending the coffee she was sipping, and the cup it was kept in, to the floor.

“Ah, crap, sorry!” Ohashi, as always, responded with vigorous bows. “I'll wipe that right up.”

“It's fine,” Yoshida replied in a chilling voice. “I'll do it, so you go away. You're annoying. Stay away from me.” 

I have to make a correction to my earlier statement. There was one person who disliked Ohashi: Haruka Yoshida. I remembered once when Ohashi had been having fun in the hallway, only for Yoshida to mercilessly cut her off with a “You're so noisy. Shut up.” It's not like she was only strict with Ohashi. She was very fair, in the sense that she didn't change her attitude for anyone. Words like “ice queen” and “sociopath” were often used to describe her, though of course never where she could hear.

Everyone in the dorm, and for that matter the entire university, respected Yoshida, because she was, in fact, a professional novelist. She made her debut at only 20, winning the Pure Literature category in a newcomer award, and in the past two years, she'd published several full length novels. She was gaining recognition in the literary world for her elegant yet profound writing style and her sharp, cynical worldview, but to be blunt, she lived in a different world from us. Rumor had it that it was only a matter of time before she left the university dormitory.

“I'm so sorry!” Ohashi said, windmilling her arms as she retreated, the two of us watching in horror. Luckily, Yoshida appeared to have lost interest, and returned her gaze to her meal as she resumed eating. 

After Ohashi left, the cafeteria was enveloped in a tranquil atmosphere, as though a hurricane had just blown through. The sound of Nozomu rearranging the pieces on the shogi board was pleasant to the ears.

“I'll just concede now,” I stopped him. “The situation was already pretty bad, wasn't it? I give up, as usual.” 

“...Are you sure? You could still make a comeback.” 

Nozomu tilted his head and spoke as though he could see everything. Today, he'd played with a handicap of both a knight and a bishop, but that game still marked my tenth consecutive loss. I've been familiar with shogi since I was a child and have some confidence in my skills, but no matter how much of a handicap I'm given, I can't beat him. But that's only natural, as Nozomu is in the third dan league of the Shogi Association, the rank directly below that of a professional player. Normally, the difference in rank between us would be so great that being allowed to play him at all would be an honor.

But talented people from all sorts of different fields, like Yoshida and Nozomu, were all gathered together here, just as you'd expect from a student dorm at Teito University.

“I made too many mistakes... I didn't even notice the path to the checkmate this time.” 

“Well, it can't be helped. Even I make mistakes when I'm in a hurry,” Nozomu answered my grumbles with a relaxed face. “The other day, I missed a simple one move checkmate in an important game in the third dan league,” he told me. “That was a huge blunder.”

“A one move checkmate?” 

“Yeah, right as time was running out, they made a move to expose my king, which I had in an Anaguma defense, so I reflexively used my bishop to complete the Anaguma and protect the king. But because of that, the king's escape route from the next attack from a promoted knight was blocked off, and it was a simple checkmate. It was a sudden death blow. I was in a bad spot either way, but that was the first time I'd ever fallen for such a ridiculously simple checkmate.” 

I understood, and wondered why Nozomu was speaking so lightheartedly even though he must have been extremely upset. The next thing to cross my mind was a simple question that had been bothering me recently.

“Nozomu, what are you going to do with your life?” 

It was the winter of our third year of college. An important decision that would determine our futures was right at our throats.

Nozomu, a student in the chemistry department, had excellent grades, and he acted as though he had no real interest in becoming a professional shogi player. I couldn't imagine what went through his mind as he continued to battle day in and day out in that competitive world.

“Yeah, it is about time to think about that, isn't it?” Nozomu answered nonchalantly. “I think I might get a research position at a manufacturer. Actually, I already have some connections.”

“I see. That sure seems like a good fit for you. But... what about shogi?” 

“Well, being a professional isn't easy. Both becoming one and being one,” he said matter-of-factly. “Generally speaking, nowadays you can't win in the pro league unless you make extensive use of computer analysis and fully immerse yourself in research. It's not something you can do half-heartedly.”

“Ah, like shogi AI. Are those already stronger than humans?”

“They've been around for a while, but there's no point comparing humans and AI. Humans and computers think in completely different ways. Humans decide their moves by making plans about which pieces to use and how to attack, right? But AI only sees shogi in terms of math, so it doesn't care about the flow of the game at all. It resets after each move and chooses based purely on what is best at that moment in time. It doesn't have the human flaw of trying to harness the flow its created, so it can casually choose a move that negates its own last move just because it's the best. That's AI's strength, and I'm sure that sort of big picture perspective is what makes a strong shogi player today, but I still like the more personal games played between humans long ago...” 

As Nozomu looked off into the distance, all I could do was give a vague nod. Perhaps his interest in the game called shogi had waned as the competitive nature of the game had changed.

“...So what are you going to do, Keisuke?” 

It was completely natural that he'd ask me that, but I still instinctively tensed up at the question. What would I do?

“I'm also planning on getting a job instead of going on to grad school. I think I'll go into architecture. I think it's about time I started studying for the licensing exam.” 

“Well, you are in the architecture department,” Nozomu agreed with a nod. “So, did you always want to be an architect?” 

“...No, it just wound up that way. I was good at science and I like drawing, so I thought I'd be good at drawing blueprints.” 

“I see. Well, it doesn't really matter how minor the reason is, does it?” 

“Yeah, you're right. I hope things work out for us...” 

To smother the solemn air that was developing, I asked “Want to play another game?”, but Nozomu waved his hand and said “I have to go work on my assignment.”

“Besides, there's this afternoon, right?” 

When he reminded me, I remembered our special plans for today. Nozomu and I were going to a nearby park with our friends from the dorm. To burn the greatest celestial light show of the century into our memories.

“That's right. The partial solar eclipse is today.” 

After putting away the shogi board, we went up the stairs and returned to our rooms. The university had a co-ed dorm, rare in the modern day, with the girls' rooms on the first floor and the boys' rooms on the second.

The solar eclipse was due to start at 2:00 P.M., so I had time to spare. I absentmindedly watched videos on my smartphone, but I wasn't really paying attention, and I knew perfectly well why.

The weight of the two words “job hunting” grew heavier in my mind by the day.

I thought I had given Nozomu a smooth answer earlier, but to tell the truth, I couldn't deny that I was still unsure about my future. While it was true that a job in architecture would be perfect in that I could utilize what I'd learned at college, I wasn't sure it would be okay to make such a life-altering decision so casually.

I wondered what kind of job I actually wanted.

I took my “self-analysis cards” from my drawer and spread them out on the desk. Past events that had shaped me, things I was passionate about, and strongly held memories – fragments I had pulled from myself scattered across the desk like a mosaic. Looking at them, I was struck by an indescribable sense of emptiness, but at the same time, I reaffirmed the underlying feeling I couldn't erase.

I liked to draw.

I'd started doodling when I was in elementary school and never stopped. In middle school, I'd drawn manga almost every day, though I never showed it to anyone. Although I'd done less in high school, I continued drawing illustrations, landscapes, and self-indulgent manga whenever I had free time. When I thought back, I saw that whenever I went through a difficult time, what saved me was being engrossed in manga of my own creation. It was, in a sense, escapism, but even so, it was fair to say that the only thing in my life I'd ever truly been passionate about was drawing.

In contrast, architecture was something I'd chosen almost by chance after entering university. My motivation for going down that path was a cold calculation of career prospects and income level. When I imagined myself working at an architectural firm, the excitement I felt didn't even approach what I felt when I came up with a concept for a new manga.

So shouldn't I want to be a mangaka or an illustrator? I quickly rejected the ridiculous conclusion I was about to reach. Those weren't professions you could get just by wanting them. I didn't know if I had the talent or even the enthusiasm to keep drawing as a job.

In the end, it was just wishful thinking. We all make compromises somewhere. Nozomu must have understood that much better than I did. But even though I understood that in my head, my doubts about the path I wanted to take didn't fade.

I never imagined that knowing the future would be soon could be so painful. I collapsed into bed, half-abandoning my thoughts, and let the music coming from my phone flow into my ears. The familiar melody lulled me into a comforting drowsiness.

“Hey, Keisuke! We're about to leave!” 

A knock on the door brought me back to my senses. I looked at the clock and saw it was after 1:00 P.M. I opened the door and saw my classmate from next door, Yuto Hirano. He had a muscular build that was offset by his tall, slender frame. He was obviously an athlete, and, in fact, he was a member of the university's American football team.

Nozomu pleaded for us to wait a bit because he wanted to keep working on his assignment, but he eventually joined us, and the three of us went down to the first floor together. I called out to Ohashi, who was in the cafeteria shoveling cup ramen into her mouth, but she refused, saying “I'll pass! I've seriously gotta rewrite this report, pronto!”

Before we left the dorm, I went to grab a picnic blanket from the storeroom. We'd planned to have a picnic in the park under stars shining in the middle of the day.

The storeroom was located in the meeting room on the outskirts of the dorm. When I opened the door to the meeting room, there was no one there. The lights were off and the room was dim, and a faint fruity smell tickled my nose. Was it an air freshener?

In the middle of the room was the smaller room used as a storeroom. It was just the manager's personal doing, but it was filled with everything from tools to tents, and students were free to take anything they wanted.

“Huh?” Yuto muttered in a puzzled tone as he put his hand on the lever handle of the storeroom door. “It won't open.”

“What? It doesn't even have a lock.” 

The lever went down, but when you pushed the door, it didn't move. It was stuck in place by something.

“Let's open it from the other door.” 

At Nozomu's suggestion, the three of us headed into the back of the room. It was a rather odd structure, but the storeroom actually had two entrances. It was like the smoking area in a lounge.

“It's no good, this one won't open either.” 

The back door opened outward, but just like the other one, the lever went down, but it didn't open when we pulled. Strange. There was no light coming from under the door, and no sign of anyone inside.

“Forget the picnic blanket. If we don't hurry, the solar eclipse will start without us.” 

Yuto said that, though he was clearly dissatisfied. We tilted our heads in confusion, but we had no choice but to leave the meeting room.

 

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