[attr="class","APP3"] A good Shogi player thinks of loss. The act of preventing it. The act of accepting it and even using it. A good Shogi player thinks of how to mitigate the harm it causes to ones faculties, ones armies. To fill the holes left in ones defense, and finally to recover from its inevitability and continue forth with the only promise that its doomed to happen again. There is little in life that could be separated from Shogi, as life itself is no less and no more a battlefield than a grid of squares that total ninety-one. It's of attrition. It's of loss indefensible. How does one respond to their pieces taken off the board only roused once more to return and haunt them. How does one carry knowing a single mistake can cost absolutely everything. No matter how reckless a life is lived, it always returns to a defensive play as nothing is more natural than a wall erected the most important, plays henceforth meticulous as they mitigate subsequent losses. To considering the risk of losing any pieces, to forcing upon yourself those moments of vulnerability, the gamble must truly be worthwhile.
It was no wonder that life, like a game of Shoji, was all about lost.
Seiichi had been told that by someone, somewhere. Many years had past since that fateful encounter but, like a hot iron, those words were forever imprinted upon him. He had taken to the game himself, one evening, and had never stopped when time afforded him the leisure of playing, of engaging. It was an involved session which an emphasis of exploration and reflection. It was a game that allowed one to posture themselves upon the board with a reset and reassess their pieces lost and what more could be sacrifice until an insuperable end was meant and no further risking could go on.
However...
Albeit, to see such a large man with such unruly and bloated muscles playing such a delicate and procedural game looked curious, for the lack of a better word. He had an ugly hand, the extremity more akin to a mitt. The path he'd chosen had scarred it terribly, bringing his skin to rupture day in and day out. It was heavily calloused and naturally dwarfed the small pieces of wood he picked up, carefully placing it where intersecting lines formed barrier walls. Despite his size unbecoming to such a gentle sport, Seiichi had yet to find himself at the mercy of another on the board.
Click...!
His game concluded after setting that pawn, both men folding to a bow. His opponent rose and left and, for now, the Jounin was left to weight for the arrival of an opponent. Naoko Kurotori
Last Edit: Sept 26, 2021 6:56:14 GMT by Seiichi Koji
[attr="class","addy2body"]Truly, life afforded us such strange opportunities when we allowed it to. Naoko had never expected to be welcomed within the borders of another country, much less accepted into the midst of their very own shinobi village. One might say that luck had been used up once already when her father had begged asylum of Iwagakure and had it granted, yet she found herself strolling through the streets like a tourist. Many years ago her father mentioned in passing that Otogakure had been his first choice of home due to the freedom with which medical shinobi could practice, and now she suspected he was glad to have been forced into the second option. Rumor had it that the new Kage had no tolerance for it.
Purple eyes scanned her surroundings, settling upon ... what appeared to be a bear playing a board game? Her foot pressed to the ground and she paused, mid-stride, blinking until her brain caught up with processing what her vision actually took in. No, not a bear, just a man who could have passed for one comfortably. And not just a board game either, but shogi, a favorite of her father's. The kunoichi inhaled deeply and made up her mind in that instant, bolstered further by the fact that his opponent had taken his leave. Yes, it was time to meet the locals! (She supposed he might not be local, like herself, but it was just a turn of phrase.)
Naoko was all dark hair, pale skin, and petite of stature. Some thought she looked like a child on a normal day, even though she was currently fully decked out in her village's combat outfit; next to the bear-man it was starker. Piercing gaze swept over him to note the details she could see, and did not appear startled by the fact his hands looked like mincemeat. What little could be seen of her arms displayed many scars of her own, after all.
She half-bowed to him and then slid into the seat, flashing a grin that showed her teeth. Feral, but not threatening: she was not intending it to be. "My father loves shogi," the Iwagakure girl greeted unceremoniously. "He showed me how to play, but I confess I never was very good. That said, I wouldn't mind a game with an interesting character such as yourself."
[attr="class","APP3"] Fate had been kind in what it afforded Seiichi. Had there been a code he cracked or was it setting him up for a great downfall?
A small waif of a woman, whose lustrous tone skin teetered the border of drive snow and porcelain, had slid into the seat across from him in an amiable manner. Company had always been a curious things, as opposites often found themselves attracting to one another. In her color palette alone, dark clothing and dark hair pinned to a pale and petite frame, there could have been no finer representation for a contrast to him; it was as if she were the black tiles of the shogi board and he were the white ones. Albeit, what broke through the most to the man whom dressed in bear pelts was the brightness in her personality, a kindness that was represented dutifully by big and bright eyes that glistened with a luster of their own, one that had yet abandoned the world regardless of cruelly dealt cards. It was a kindness that strove to find even the faintest of rays that filtered through the canopies until it had grown up enough to break through that ceiling and bask in the sun it so deserved; in truth, it had been something he had long to know but often forgot, purposefully keeping himself at an arm's reach to even this day. The jounin had known animals, he had known beasts but most of all he had known 'lost' as it seemed an unfortunate and often mutual theme. There had been no greater thing that Seiichi Koji had witnessed as it transcended any need of introduction or explanation/ There was no need to look for it as it was no more second nature than breath idly drawn. It was possible that Seiichi had read too into it, but that feral grin of hers seemed to tell the tale of something broken or fractured, pieced back together slowly through the mending hand of time.
"I'm sure he showed you well," came a great rumble from betwixt the bear's lips, his voice to carry a weight as it flooded outward. It seemed, try as he might, even his metered volume commanded attention from more than just those before him. He had taken liberty to set the board as she had been arriving, never knowing when the next player would arrive: the row furthest from her was dressed with pawns, the bishop and rook in the second row in front of the appropriate knight and the last row with the King, it's adjacent gold generals, silver lances and so on until the all nine spaces were filled on the row closest to her. Oddly accurate, her tiles were the black ones and it was often in custom that the black tiles be given the first move. In some regards, it played fairly similar to a more foreign game-- one of the name of chess. It grandest differences were in the promotions and the inclusion of captured pieces along the board, save for unsanctioned spots.
If she had made her move soon, the jounin would respond with his own, however the first few turns were often nothing more than a dance of pawns as either player moved in prediction of the opposing's strategy, setting up defenses or attacks to minimize their loss or lessen their need to commit to a necessary sacrifice. "May I have the name of the young woman who's about to beat me?" The goliath teased, a pair of bright eyes peaking beneath the outstretched maw of a beast slain and frozen into time. It must have been a terrifying battle, to draw such rage that seemed eternally affixed to a creature long deceased.
"You play well. Is it from your father or mother that you've inherited this whit from? You'd make a fine commander, one day."
