The sound of shutters and cara flashes hadn't stopped since Yukima Azuma stepped onto the stage.
Across the hall, several competitors—winners of the first round just like him—watched the scene unfold with a tinge of regret.
They had won too.
So why was he the only one creating a dia frenzy?
But Yukima Azuma remained calm, unaffected.
He was no stranger to the spotlight.
Three years ago, he'd been the center of it. And now that he was back, it was only natural the caras followed.
Once he signaled for the press to begin, the first question ca quickly.
"Yukima-san, this is your first official tournant in three years. How does it feel to be back?"
"Honestly? Shogi excites —no matter how much ti passes."
"So say your 47-move win was a response to criticism. Would you agree?"
"I just played my best."
"What are your expectations for this tournant?"
"Victory, of course. The desire to win burns in every shogi player's heart."
The reporters paused.
Glanced at each other.
Then chuckled, quietly.
They had hoped to bait this prodigy into an arrogant or impulsive statent—sothing headline-worthy.
But he was cool. Composed. Untouchable.
His answers were smooth as glass.
No gaps. No drama.
Disappointed, they began lowering their expectations.
And then—
"Yukima!"
A voice rang out from the back.
All heads turned.
A girl about Yukima's age was standing there, slightly breathless, as if she'd run all the way here.
Blonde hair, lightning-gold eyes, and a single prominent shark-like fang peeking from her smile—
Sainokami Ika.
Her black-and-white shirt was slightly wrinkled, like she'd thrown it on in a rush.
And the way she stared at Yukima—
It felt like she was about to leap into his arms.
Caras pivoted in unison.
They slled news.
"Sainokami Ika... if I'm not mistaken." Yukima's voice was cool, almost indifferent.
"As soon as I heard, I rushed over!" Ika ignored his tone, smiling brightly.
"You're the current 'Queen' titleholder, aren't you..."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the press.
The "Queen" was one of the highest honors for female shogi players—
A title on the sa tier as Sora Ginko's "Won's Throne."
And Sainokami Ika was the reigning Queen.
She stepped closer, practically glowing.
"I was so excited to hear Yukima Azuma was returning!"
Even though Yukima didn't respond, she kept going, voice full of emotion.
"Hey—date !"
"That way we can play shogi forever!"
"I don't care about anyone else. As long as I have Yukima Azuma, nothing else matters!"
The room froze.
That wasn't just a confession. That was an emotional landmine.
Yukima, still on stage, felt the piercing gaze cutting across the hall.
He didn't need to look.
He already knew—
Sora Ginko was watching.
So, Yukima Azuma did what only Yukima Azuma would do.
He killed the smile on his face.
"I must decline. We're not even friends."
"That kind of confession makes uncomfortable. Please don't do it again."
Then he stepped down from the stage and exited without a backward glance.
A clean break. No hesitation. No room for misinterpretation.
Sainokami Ika had been publicly, utterly rejected.
And yet...
She didn't stop smiling.
Her golden eyes tracked his silhouette until it vanished from view.
Outside the venue, not long after—
"What was that about?"
Sora Ginko's voice was soft, almost playful. Like the teasing swipe of a kitten's paw.
Had Yukima responded even slightly differently, her approach would've been far less gentle.
But since he had flat-out rejected Ika in front of everyone—cleanly and decisively—
She had no reason to explode.
Now, she was just curious.
"When I reached second rank in the prize competitions, I played Sainokami Ika once," Yukima began.
"After I won, she imdiately confessed to . Out of nowhere."
"Even after I rejected her, she didn't care. She just kept trying to find ways to play shogi with ."
"That was her third confession just now."
Sainokami Ika was... relentless.
A selfish storm of obsession, wrapped in a pretty face.
She didn't care about love.
Only about strength.
She had talent—brilliant, rare talent among female players.
And after just one ga with Yukima Azuma, she had seen it:
He was on another level.
So she latched on.
And she'd stay latched on for as long as it made her stronger.
Even if it ant offering everything—including herself.
"Tch." Ginko clicked her tongue. "That clingy cat burglar..."
She flicked open her folding fan, snapping it shut and open again. A nervous habit when she was annoyed.
Yukima reached out and ruffled her silvery hair.
Sora Ginko instinctively leaned into the touch.
Then caught herself and pulled away with a dignified little pout.
"You're not secretly flattered, are you?"
"Not in the slightest."
"You rejected her like a solid move on the board? No hesitation?"
"Firmly rejected."
She gave him a slow, satisfied nod.
"Alright, then. Let's go. Master's house. Sister Keika already finished cooking."
Sora Ginko turned with a skip in her step, her mood visibly lifted.
As she walked ahead, her smile returned, ears tinged with the faintest pink.
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