Chapter Text
Time seemed to slow down. At least, to Komugi it had. She sat there, her frail hand trembling before her forever unseeing eyes. Thick, warm liquid had splattered across her porcelain face and was now, like a heavy syrup, trickling down the curves of her soft cheeks and gasping mouth. She trembled as someone’s muffled cries echoed through her mind, her daze too dense to make out even a few syllables of whatever the man was bewailing. And what was this taste? The hot liquid stung her lips as a drop rolled into the hollow of her mouth, pooling against her tongue. Was this blood? It tasted like blood, but no, something seemed off. There was a sour flavor to it, faintly citrus.
“Wha – wha – what happened?” she managed to stammer out, her thoughts struggling to catch up with the scene unraveling around her.
A stern voice barked back “It’s your turn to play.”
Her brow furrowed as she remembered what he said before the spray of mystery liquid splashed against her skin. Let this be his “apology.” What had he done? Why is his guard in hysterics?
“D-Did you…break your own arm?” She spoke before the theory clearly manifested within her terrified mind. Her breath then hitched as she heard the guard frantically beg permission to stop the bleeding.
‘The Supreme Leader is bleeding? Because of me?’ The thoughts rang through her head as she half-heard the guard attempting to negotiate with the King. He pleaded for permission to summon another guard, named Neferpitou, and he was willing to die if the Supreme Leader did not ultimately concede to treatment.
She cringed shamefully and silently pondered, ‘Is he about to die because of me? I’m sure his life is worth so much more than mine.’
“It’s your turn. Play.” The command seized her attention, and immediately, she found herself in perfect tune with her chaotic surroundings.
“No!” she defiantly shouted in reply. “I will not play…until your arm is better!”
Abruptly, she felt the cold tip of a knife gently thrust against the delicate skin of her neck. She swallowed a sob and shook, feeling the weapon press more firmly against her trachea. Any sudden movement and her blood would flow.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
She steadied herself, her resolve swelling up in her chest like a balloon anxious to burst. “No, I refuse,” she boldly countered a second time. “If you would kill me…kill me in gungi!” Her lips tightened, waiting for the knife to plunge into her throat.
“Why you,” the King snarled back, his words dripping with barely harnessed rage. “Call Pitou!”
For nearly four hours, the only sounds were the rhythmic clacking of gungi pieces and each player’s declared moves. Komugi had refused to begin playing until she heard a woman’s canorous voice announce her own arrival and willingness to serve.
She was not sure exactly what was transpiring, but Komugi was acutely aware that a certain Doctor Blythe had accompanied the guard and was now treating what must be the Supreme Leader’s severely wounded flesh. She stationed her archer atop the gameboard before firmly gripping her waifish forearm, imagining what strength it must take to crack your own bones in twain.
He uttered no sounds of agony when he suffered the injury or even now. Aside from announcing positions on their shared 9x9 battlefield, the room was eerily soundless as the surgeon repaired his battered form. What kind of man silently endures such tremendous pain?
Upon completion of his treatment, the King broke the pattern he and his opponent had been sharing and calmly dismissed his guards. Komugi listened intently, all the while thinking it strange she only heard two sets of footsteps and not the expected three. The doctor must be unusually light on her feet.
She kept her keen hearing tuned, half-expecting him to say something novel now that they were alone, but the Supreme Leader did not proceed as expected. After a pause that seemed unreasonably long, the familiar clack of a gungi piece and the announcement of his next move were all she heard.
Komugi felt the corners of her lips curling upwards into a soft smile, and she felt equal parts relieved and happy that they would just continue the game. The Supreme Leader had threatened her life more than once now, but Komugi could tell that this man would eventually, with practice, become a challenging opponent. That fact alone made her content and more than eager to continue their strategic joust.
Another four hours passed, and still the only words they shared were of their respective plays. He had said there would be no breaks and his words held true. She had not dared to even ask to use the lavatory, fearful that the request would annoy him, and their games would cease.
Furthermore, and despite the comfort of the plush pillow beneath her, Komugi’s legs had grown numb hours ago. She squirmed a bit, hoping to awaken some of the nerves. The familiar pins-and-needles agony of blood rushing back into her limbs would be a welcomed feeling after so long. Still, while her body may be growing wearier, her mind was still sharp and struggling little to foresee plays that her opponent would inevitably attempt.
No, sleep would not checkmate the determined gungi master. After all, nothing could possibly be more essential than the honor of gungi with the Supreme Leader. When she earlier boasted of her ability to play for three days straight, she meant every proud word.
A soft sound caught her attention. It was a mildly frustrated puff of air leaving the King’s lungs, realizing he had, yet again, been defeated. A rain of clicks and clacks filled the room as he dropped his remaining pieces onto the wooden game board, a long and heavy silence following.
Had she been able to see, Komugi would have been startled by the intense scowl the King was barreling against her. His mind had been distracted for their past two games, devoured by the thought that this woman truly harbored neither greed nor fear. Furthermore, she had moronically opposed him when he was the obviously superior being. Why hadn’t he just killed her right there on the spot? He dismissed it merely as a natural desire to delay her demise until he won. Then, upon his triumph, her life would deservingly be cut short.
“Tell me,” he began, his tone bitter and cold, “was there truly nothing you wanted upon besting me? Is gungi such an obsession that your obtuse mind can’t fathom desire for anything else?”
Komugi swallowed hard, uncomfortable in this powerful and direct man’s nearly suffocating energy. Biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering, she meekly shook out a reply. “I’m—I’m very lucky to have as much as I do given how much of a burden I can b—be. Being able to play gungi with Dear Leader is enough.”
Her answer did not satisfy the King, his gaze narrowing and fingers flexing into a firm fist. “I offered you anything. You care not for power or riches? Surely your sight would be a desire?”
“I’ve been blind since birth, Your Majesty, Sir. You said earlier you’d take the black pieces. I don’t really know what black or white even means. Just that they’re different.” She waited for a reply, but her adversary remained silent. She was suddenly aware of her own heartbeat drumming within her ears and a tight knot swelling within her throat.
Swallowing, she continued, “I—I don’t know what anything really looks like, but—but I get by fine without knowing. I don’t really miss my sight because I never could see. I guess…well, I guess it would be good to have so I don’t go breaking things and bothering others, but it would be a want to help everyone else tolerate me better is all. Everything I deserve, I have.” Her head hung low, thick brows furrowing as her lips pursed in a tight pout. “I’m not worthy of much.”
The King stilled, eyeing the pale blonde as his mind struggled to understand the girl’s meaning. ‘How is she so worthless and unworthy if I can’t outmaneuver her? I am the pinnacle of evolution both physically and cognitively. Yet, this human, constantly and distastefully discharging snot from her obviously defective nose, continues to defeat me time and time again.’ The absence of a clear answer was maddening.
“Perhaps,” he explored through slightly clinched teeth, “a family who would not deem you worthless once you are ultimately defeated?” He narrowed his gaze, “And you will be defeated in short.”
Her sightless eyes fell to the floor and she appeared ready to repeat a lie she has achingly memorized by heart. “My parents were unreasonably good in letting me live past being a baby. Until gungi I—I was nothing but a bother to all of them. I don’t blame them for not caring for me once I don’t have any way to help out. Death just makes sense. I won’t be worth more an—anyway.” She began to fidget with the fabric of her dress, her thin limbs trembling.
A strange sensation swelled in the King’s throat as he listened to her speak. It was not disgust or anger or anything else he had grown familiar with in his admittedly short life. This feeling felt like it would choke him, and for some reason he found himself wanting to vehemently insist that she was, in fact, not inconsequential. How could she be? If she were insignificant, if she mattered so little, then what would that make him? He had, somehow, still failed to best the human in a ridiculous board game. Snarling, the King felt an urge to demand she rescind her claims of inferiority.
Instead, however, he found himself posing a new question, his mind still obsessed with how to overcome the woman’s seemingly unshakable rhythm. “Humans,” he paused, “naturally seek intimacy with a mate, do they not? Would dying not deny you the need for such a formal coupling?”
Komugi felt her skin grow hot as a peachy-pink blush kissed her full cheeks. She lowered her head, attempting to hide the flushed color, albeit unsuccessfully.
“Well? Answer me. I won’t repeat myself.”
“W—w—well, you see, Supreme Leader, I don’t really think anything like that is fit for someone like—like me.”
“Explain,” he hastily shot back, a hint of confusion in his voice. He observed nothing of her physical form that should hinder her eligibility to produce an acceptable progeny.
“Um, well, uh…I wouldn’t be a very good…’mate,” she paused here, trying to grasp the King’s odd word choice. “Wha—what good would a blind wife even be? I can’t cook without burning myself or the food and I—I break more things than I’m able to clean.”
“What significance do meal preparation and housekeeping have in regard to procreation?” The confusion in his tone had grown more evident. Nowhere in the medical texts he had thumbed through did he see anything about a partner requiring these qualities. Could it be some sort of bizarre mating ritual? After fruitful fertilization, these characteristics would be deemed positively pointless since both parties would go their separate ways. Ergo, allowing the male to couple with other females and further ensuring his successful posterity. Humans truly were nonsensical and confusing creatures.
“P—pro—procreation? Like babies?” Her eyes widened in a mix of shock and embarrassing fear. “I wouldn’t—I mean, I couldn’t—That just isn’t somethin’ I could do.”
The King eased back in his position and began to size the small woman up, scanning for her apparent faults. “Then you’re barren?” he finally concluded.
“Ehhh? No, no…I’m not…I’m not b—b—barren Supreme Leader, Sir. I just wouldn’t be…well, wanted is all.” She wrapped her arms tightly around her core, a noticeable sadness overtaking her small features as her head hung depressingly low.
“Then, I fail to see why you’re less desirable than any other human female.”
Komugi blushed again at his flattering (although oddly worded) compliment, her hands rushing to hide her crimson cheeks as she slightly rocked back and forth. A wave of hot static surged through her body and caused the tiny, pale hairs on her arms to stand on end. Did he really just say that? Him? The Supreme Leader of East Gorteau?
Meanwhile, the King studied the girl’s bizarre behavior before inwardly reflecting on his own. Why did her flesh turn to such a pleasing shade of scarlet, and why did he find himself favoring it? He thought back to a stack of books that Pouf had provided days ago. Perhaps this “erotic literature” could bring to light answers. He made a mental note to later delve into the texts he had previously passed by in favor of the more academic writings.
Lost in thought, the King had not noticed that Komugi finally relaxed her posture, her blush had softened, and once again, she gazed towards him with those wide, nacre eyes. Earlier that day, he had rationalized she used her unsighted, frosted hues as a tool to demonstrate undivided attention towards him. The theory seemed even more likely now as she began to sheepishly inquire, “What about you Your Majesty? Do you have someone like that in the palace…a m—mate?”
“No,” he answered bluntly. “I have more compelling matters at hand.”
For some reason, the answer made her somewhat happy. That meant there would be more time for gungi, if she could continue to best him, that is. She resolved to always defeat him so she could stay by his side longer. After all, no one had ever let her speak at such lengths, and when he spoke without irritation, his voice caused a faint twitch inside her chest. She had never heard a voice she preferred to his deep, soothing tone. Surely, there was something special about the new leader.
“Enough,” the King boomed, interrupting her tingly euphoria, “this bores me.” Glancing up at her glassy, pale eyes he added, “Let us play.”
“Hai!” Without hesitation, Komugi sprang to life, reaching for the discarded game pieces that had been tossed after their last match. Unable to see, however, she did not realize that her opponent had also made a move for the black and white discs. When their hands clashed, both adversaries failed to hold in shocked gasps.
