She closed her eyes, tears sliding down silently. But this time, it was no longer pure sorrow; instead, it was mixed with a twisted sense of peace, as if she had found a home. She reached out and hugged Kanjuro back, burying her face deep in his chest, as if wanting to completely merge herself into this dangerous "warmth."
She nodded gently and let out a faint nasal sound:
"...Mm."
Kanjuro felt the compliance of the daughter in his arms, a deep and dark smile curling at the corners of his mouth. He had successfully, in the most twisted way, firmly grasped another pawn flowing with his own bloodline in his hands.
The morning sunlight spilled through the gaps in the curtains onto the messy large bed. Miyamoto Yumi slowly woke up, her body retaining an unfamiliar soreness and fatigue, but more so an indescribable unreality, as if she were floating in the clouds. She found herself being held tightly in Kanjuro's arms; his arms were steady and powerful, and his even breathing brushed over the top of her head.
Everything that happened last night flooded into her mind like a tide, bringing shame and confusion, but strangely, not much regret. Hideyoshi's twisted face and heart-piercing words still stung, but the warmth, strength, and that inexplicable "familiarity" and peace brought by the man beside her were like a potent anesthetic, temporarily smoothing over her inner wounds. She didn't know where this attachment came from; she just instinctively huddled closer into Kanjuro's embrace, as if this were the only safe harbor.
Kanjuro woke up as well, looking down at the dazed Yumi in his arms, who was full of dependence on him. A faint smile of absolute control curled at his lips. He gently kissed her forehead, his movements natural and intimate.
The two got up and washed. When Kanjuro took Yumi's hand and opened the door, the sight that met her eyes made Yumi freeze instantly.
Akai Hideyoshi was standing straight in the shadows of the hallway outside the door. His eyes were bloodshot and terrifying, his eye bags were deep, and his face was as pale as paper. More strangely, he was wearing a pair of large, expensive-looking professional noise-canceling headphones, as if to isolate all external sounds, including the roars of his own heart. His body was slightly hunched, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and his whole being radiated an aura mixed with extreme pain, fatigue, and a sort of abnormal excitement.
Looking at Hideyoshi's state, a flash of understanding and pleasure crossed Kanjuro's eyes, but on the surface, he asked with feigned concern: "Hideyoshi? Why are you here? And in this state... are you alright?"
Akai Hideyoshi slowly raised his head. His gaze first swept over Kanjuro vacantly, then fixed firmly on Kanjuro and Yumi's tightly clasped hands. His pupils contracted, and a "gurgle" came from his throat, as if he had swallowed something extremely bitter. Through the headphones, Kanjuro's voice sounded a bit muffled, but he clearly heard it.
"Ye... Mr. Kanjuro..." Hideyoshi's voice was terribly raspy, like sandpaper rubbing together. "I... I didn't sleep all night... I've been reviewing, thinking..."
A twisted smile, uglier than crying, squeezed onto his face:
"It seems... it seems I've really become stronger... My understanding of the game, my grasp of 'sacrifice' and 'gain'... it's become clearer, more... cold. I can see paths I couldn't see before, and my calculation speed is much faster..."
He seemed to be reporting his results, with a hint of excitement about his undeniable "progress" in his tone, but this excitement was completely drowned out by the immense pain and void in his eyes.
"But..." He suddenly clutched his chest, his voice taking on a sob. "But why... does it feel like... I've lost something very important... Here... it's so empty... it hurts so much..."
He looked at Yumi with an extremely complex gaze, filled with longing, pain, and even a faint, weak plea that he himself hadn't noticed.
Looking at his state—neither human nor ghost—and hearing his talk of "progress," the last trace of attachment and heartache Miyamoto Yumi had for this man turned completely to ash, leaving only endless sorrow and relief. She sighed, a sigh as light as a breeze.
She took a step forward, looking at Hideyoshi with a calm gaze, and said clearly and firmly:
"Hideyoshi, yesterday... I already got together with Brother Kanjuro." She even subconsciously used a more intimate address. "Let's end it here; we're officially breaking up."
She paused, looking at Hideyoshi's suddenly contracting pupils and even paler face. Her tone carried a sort of merciful finality:
"I hope you... can be happy in the future. And I hope you... really can become the 'Kisei' you want to be."
These words, like a final judgment, shattered the last bit of luck in Hideyoshi's heart. His body swayed violently, and he could barely stand. A high-pitched hum seemed to come from his headphones, making him knit his brows in pain.
He gave Yumi a long look, then glanced at the composed Kanjuro beside her, who seemed to have everything under control. A whimper like that of a wounded beast escaped his throat, and he turned abruptly, almost stumbling, as he rushed toward the end of the hallway. Those huge headphones seemed like a pathetic symbol of his isolation from the world and his past self.
Kanjuro watched Hideyoshi's pathetic retreating figure, gently put his arm around Yumi's shoulder, and whispered in her ear with a hint of undetectable irony: "It seems his 'spiritual practice' has been quite effective."
Yumi leaned into his embrace without answering, simply closing her eyes and shutting that painful and twisted past completely out of her heart. She didn't know that she had thrown herself into an even deeper and more dangerous whirlpool, and that the "Brother Kanjuro" beside her was the source and master of it all. After fleeing the hotel in a daze, Akai Hideyoshi wandered the streets of Tokyo all day like a walking corpse. The large noise-canceling headphones on his head failed to isolate the noise in his heart; instead, they were like a mark of shame, reminding him of last night's madness and wretchedness. Kanjuro's words, Yumi's resolute gaze, and his own morbid "excitement" whirled and collided in his mind like countless fragments.
As time passed, the initial numbness and that twisted "sense of sublimation" gradually faded, and a cold, belated logic began to slowly seep into his chaotic brain.
Sacrificing love... in exchange for skill at the game?
Watching a loved one fall into another's arms... to temper one's mind?
Is this truly the right path to becoming a "Kisei"?
A clear, chilling answer gradually surfaced—this wasn't training; this was depravity! This wasn't power; this was self-destruction! From beginning to end, Kanjuro had been using his desire for the Shogi Way to lead him down a path of no return!
He had been tricked!
He had been played by Kanjuro from start to finish!
A fire of unprecedented anger at being deceived, immense regret over losing Yumi, and extreme shame at his own foolish behavior suddenly burned in his chest! He ripped the headphones off his head and slammed them onto the ground, as if wanting to shatter his controlled, wretched self.
As night fell and the lights came on, this anger and the impulse to seek proof and redemption drove Akai Hideyoshi to rush toward Miyamoto Yumi's apartment like a madman. He had to know the truth! He had to question Kanjuro personally! He even held a faint hope that Yumi was just momentarily confused and that everything could still be salvaged!
Panting, he ran to the bottom of Yumi's apartment building and looked up; the familiar window was lit with a warm glow. He charged up the stairs, ignoring manners, and pounded on the door.
The door opened. The scene behind it, however, was like a bucket of ice water, completely extinguishing the last spark of hope in his heart.
It was Kanjuro who opened the door. He was wearing comfortable loungewear, with an incongruous cartoon apron tied around his waist, and his hands were wet, as if he had just come from the kitchen. His face bore a hint of displeasure at being interrupted, but more so a condescending, calm look, as if he were looking at a clown.
In the living room, Miyamoto Yumi was sitting at the dining table, which was laid with several dishes that looked and smelled delicious. Her face wore a relaxed, even happy smile—one that Hideyoshi hadn't seen on her face in a long time, a smile without any shadows. When she saw him at the door, the smile vanished instantly, replaced by a faint aloofness and... pity?
"Hideyoshi? Why are you here?" Yumi's voice was very calm, without much emotion.
Akai Hideyoshi watched this blindingly warm scene, watched Kanjuro's posture of taking control as the host, and watched the lack of any former affection in Yumi's eyes. All his anger, grievance, and despair erupted in an instant!
He suddenly pointed a finger at Kanjuro, his voice trembling and his face distorted by extreme rage: "It's you! Kanjuro! You lied to me! What 'Way of Heartlessness' bullshit! What 'exchanging pain for power'! It was all a lie you made up! You were calculating against me from the very beginning! You were using me! You ruined me! And you ruined Yumi!"
He roared at the top of his lungs, like a wounded beast.
Facing his fierce accusations, Kanjuro didn't even knit his brows. He slowly untied his apron, placed it casually on a nearby rack, and then responded in an extremely flat tone that pierced the heart with every word:
"Lied to you? Hideyoshi, you need evidence when you speak."
He took a step forward, his gaze like a cold probe piercing into the depths of Hideyoshi's frantic eyes.
"Did I hold a knife to your throat and force you to spy on Yumi and me while we were eating?"
"Did I hold your head down and make you say those things to Yumi about wanting her to be intimate with me?"
"Did I control your mind and make you feel 'excited' when you heard those unsightly descriptions?"
Every rhetorical question was like a heavy hammer, smashing hard against Hideyoshi's heart, making him stagger backward.
"No," Kanjuro's voice carried a hint of mocking pity. "All of this was your own choice. It was your own crooked mind, blinded by greed for power, that led you to jump into the trap I set for you... or rather, a trap your own inner darkness chose."
"I..." Hideyoshi opened his mouth, wanting to retort, but found all words pale and powerless. Kanjuro was right; he chose the path himself. Those filthy thoughts and feelings did indeed originate from within him.
Just then, Miyamoto Yumi stood up, walked to Kanjuro's side, and naturally took his arm. She looked at Hideyoshi with a calm and steady gaze, even carrying a hint of relief.
"Hideyoshi, Brother Kanjuro is right." Her voice was clear and cool, completely shattering Hideyoshi's final illusions. "We chose to end it ourselves. I already made it very clear to you this morning."
She paused, giving Kanjuro a gentle look (though this gentleness no longer belonged to Hideyoshi), and then looked back at Hideyoshi, saying word by word:
"Now, the one I love more is Kanjuro. Being with him makes me feel at peace and very happy. So, please don't come back again, and don't disturb our lives anymore."
"The one I love more is Kanjuro..."
"At peace, very happy..."
"Don't come back again..."
These words, like the death knell of a final judgment, boomed in Akai Hideyoshi's mind. He looked at the two people snuggled together, saw the undisguised love and dependence for Kanjuro in Yumi's eyes, and saw Kanjuro's cold gaze that controlled everything, as if enjoying his final collapse... All his strength was drained at this moment. Anger, regret, shame, despair... all intense emotions receded like a tide, leaving only an infinite, deathly coldness and void.
He said nothing more.
Like an empty shell with its soul snatched away, he slowly and stiffly turned around, disappearing step by step into the dim light at the end of the hallway.
This time, he truly... had nothing left.
Behind him, the apartment door was gently closed, isolating two worlds. Inside was the illusion of "warmth" and a predestined conquest; outside was a lonely soul completely sinking into darkness and despair. Carrying a hollow exhaustion and a burning fire of revenge, Akai Hideyoshi was like a lost boat, instinctively sailing toward the last safe harbor in his memory—the temporary residence in Tokyo he shared with his adoptive mother, Akai Mary. At this moment, he was no longer a madman pursuing the void of Shogi, but a son who had been deceived, had his love stolen, and was filled with grief and indignation, wanting to seek justice.
He pounded on the door with such force that it seemed he wanted to pour all his despair onto it.
The door opened. Akai Mary stood at the entrance, wearing simple loungewear with a hint of fatigue on her face. But when she saw Hideyoshi's soul-shattered appearance, his bloodshot eyes, and the hostile aura radiating from him, her sharp eyes—so similar to Sera Masumi's—were immediately filled with worry.
"Hideyoshi?!" Mary's voice carried shock and instinctive maternal concern. "What's wrong? What happened? Come in, quickly!"
She hurried to pull Hideyoshi into the house, her concerned gaze scanning him. Hideyoshi's current state was worse than any time she could remember, even more broken than when the news of Akai Tsutomu's "death in the line of duty" arrived years ago.
Hideyoshi slumped onto the living room sofa, hands buried in his hair, his body trembling slightly from agitation and lingering fear. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a nearly insane resolve.
"Mom... it's Kanjuro! That demon! He lied to me! He stole Yumi! He ruined everything I have!" Hideyoshi's voice was hoarse and tearful as he recounted the events in a jumbled, angry mess (omitting, of course, his own twisted psychological activities and the heart-piercing words he said to Yumi), painting Kanjuro as a calculating devil who toyed with people's hearts.
Akai Mary listened quietly, her face growing paler and her expression complex beyond words. Worry, anger, heartache... and a hint of bitterness and realization hidden deep in her eyes that Hideyoshi couldn't detect. She naturally knew what kind of person Kanjuro was, because she herself... had long since fallen deep and was unable to extricate herself.
"He actually... actually did such a thing!" Mary cooperatively showed an angry expression, clenching her fists as if sharing a common enemy with Hideyoshi. She sat down beside him, gently patting his back in an attempt to soothe his agitated emotions. "Hideyoshi, calm down, don't do anything foolish..."
However, at this moment, Hideyoshi was blinded by hatred, and his mother's comfort was like scratching an itch through a boot. He suddenly stood up, his gaze becoming exceptionally firm, even carrying a sense of "righteousness" akin to a martyr.
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