Work Text:
Time Check.
9:45 pm. December 31.
Asano Residences.
It's dark.
Well, except for the faint glow of the single light bulb barely illuminating the most intense match of chess ever held within the Asano household, that is.
Gakuhou has his arms folded across his chest as he quietly anticipated which of his opponent's remaining pieces is most likely to be moved next. Gakushuu sat adjacent to him, with both of his hands clasped before his nose in deep thought. Each of them took their sweet times formulating strategies to thoroughly crush the other, but were likewise conscious that playing forever's never going to be an option. Obviously.
"You know, it's not too late to admit defeat any moment now." Gakuhou prompted.
"Hah. As if I'd ever concede. Especially to the likes of you." Gakushuu countered.
Silence reigned right after that brief exchange.
Well, aside from the swift click of Gakuhou's black rook being knocked out of the board by Gakushuu's white knight.
"Check." A mischievous smirk formed on the son's lips.
In response, his father leaned his head over a little bit to one side and smiled; eventually content.
"Clever." He said simply as he took the white knight for himself using a black bishop he already had lying in wait. "But not clever enough to end things just yet."
Gakushuu gritted his teeth. He can feel his rising body temperature slowly pulse to every inch of him. If his memory serves him right, this game started a good several hours ago. A minimum of two or two and a half, if you may.
And it's frustrating, honestly.
He would somehow manage to pull off what he believed is a sly little trick, only to have it rebuked by his father in no less than a split second. They've merely been running around in complete circles.
Until Gakushuu decided it's time to conclude this seemingly endless labyrinth chase.
"So, have you thought about what you're going to do from now on?"
But Gakuhou's (un)timely intrusive question left his son hanging in mid-air.
What was that about? Was his father trying to throw him off guard? If that were indeed the case then as much as Gakushuu hated to admit it, he's done a pretty good job.
For a distant memory he long since buried at the back of his mind resurfaced like a raging hurricane.
It was a tremendously horrible day. And by horrible, Gakushuu claimed that it was Class E's fault for ruining yet another one of his glorious plans of achieving success. And by success, he meant obtaining his father's approval.
Gakushuu was modeled after honor, authority, and strength. He was trained to treat idle pleasantries like compliments and flattery as nothing more than dirt stuck on the soles of one's footwear. Survival of the strongest was drilled into his head at a very young age; that's why he was willing to resort to even the most underhanded schemes just to turn his transformative visions into a reality.
But all those instructions vanished in a blink of an eye like how bubbles burst upon sudden contact, as he stood frozen in place before the Chairman's office, his fingers locked on its doorknob, and a bead of cold sweat rolled out from his forehead.
"My son has had his fair share of losses this year against Class E."
The Chairman's words echoed softly through the small keyhole gap but ironically rang loud and clear in Gakushuu's ears. His grip on the doorknob tightened, instinctively.
"But he's trying his best."
The Student Council President felt his insides churn.
"After all, he's my son. He can make things work how ever he so pleases."
He wanted to double over as he continued drowning in such subversive impressions.
"I'm sure of it."
Gakushuu pressed his back to the wall directly beside the Chairman's door. He wasn't sure if he can take any more than what he just heard. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he'll ever move on from such an unusual once-in-a-lifetime encounter with the devil.
Clutching then his heart which pounded like it would soon spring out of his chest with one hand, as he tried to slowly stabilize his breathing, the Chairman's son felt an unsteady grin creep its way up his face.
Despite being told never to entertain sugarcoated admirations given by anyone around him, Gakushuu wanted to be praised. And to his surprise, he accidentally caught his father granting him the phenomenal luxury of basking underneath its temporary satisfaction.
So this is what it feels like...
Alright, he gave up. Who was he even trying to fool?
He jinxed it.
There was absolutely no way in hell he'll get over breaking down in the middle of a main hallway just because of some lowly incident like this one.
"Gakushuu-kun?"
Snapping back from his momentary reverie, Gakushuu met his father straight in the eyes; his own purple orbs shining a tad brighter than normal.
"Were you listening to what I was saying?"
Gakuhou's trying him. Again.
But he knew better than to give into his desperate provocations. At least, after failing to resist temptation once, he learned his lesson.
"Yes."
Gakuhou's expression remained unreadable but with one, exhausted sigh, he rose from his seat and lightly dusted his suit; apparently preparing to leave.
"That was a good match. It has been years since I last played with someone on the same level as me."
Planting first a couple of pats on his son's shoulder, Gakuhou then whispered a little sentiment of his own wistful thinking, before finally exiting the room.
"Too bad it'll take another set of many more years to be able to play like this again."
Gakushuu paid his father no mind, and kept his gaze glued onto the chess board in front of him.
His last white knight was flicked towards the black king and his queen was jammed perfectly where its target was left with no other choice but to surrender at last and face its inevitable doom.
It's Gakushuu's win.
"Is it really my win? Huh, dad?!"
He heard his voice strained with displeasure and regret. Shame and hesitation. Resentment and perhaps a decade's worth of inescapable misery.
Gakushuu weakly fetched his phone out of his pocket. A mini dialogue box appeared as the screen came to life.
Scheduled Flight.
6:00 am. January 1.
Tokyo, Japan to Cambridge, United States.
Lowering the device to his lap, Gakushuu helplessly slumped lower onto the chair. He threw his head back, while using his free hand to cover the upper half of his face as a lone tear drop trickles down the side of his temple.
There is no turning back now. He, of all people, should know that well enough already.
He was forced into a checkmate.