When the Darkest Secrets are all White

Chapter 7 - Every Eye on the Excelled

The duo of black and white atop the table. Crisscrossing. Overlapping. In conjunction. Cooperatively working to rid of one - directly opposed.

Tap.

The white's move - simple. It weakly reverberated around the expanse.

A single inaudible tick passed before the opponent retaliated.

Tap.

The same sound echoed across the breadth once again...

But a difference – considerably denser, more assure. The dull thud echoing around the room mimics the mute laughter of the black marble.

The discrepancy is unfathomable. Like two faces of a coin: one headstrong like a warrior; the other a coward running with their tail between their legs.

Tap.

To an amateur – a normal game is being played by two.

Tap.

To a master – this isn't even a contest.

Tap.

As white and black battle in this clash of dominance, the puppeteer of black still pays no heed to his competitor. No heed to the shaking shoulders, the tense brow, or the sweat dripping down his chin. Completely unaffected, too distracted.

Tap.

Whilst duelling one of the top ranked Chess players worldwide, the puppeteer of black – Ayanakouji Kiyotaka – feels a slight tingling discomfort from the back of his neck. His body shivers. An unknowing feeling that something is watching him. Something other than the hollow white walls.

Obviously, something was watching him. He was in the White Room; the palace that monitors its subjects daily. Although the boy was starting to differentiate between the range of stares that he was already accustomed to.

Without showing any sort of reaction to the new presence, Kiyotaka continued to scrutinise the feeling whilst facing his mission.

Tap.

A well thought out response. After the barrage the man suffered, he was finally able to gain a bit of breathing space. The man's opponent, who was just a child, couldn't possibly continue with this outlandish aggressive way of playstyle. It would surely be the boy's undoing.

Tap.

Instant response. Not a single shred of hesitation. The man's heart thundered against his ribcage. The man looked upon the sharp face of the child he was facing. Calm, composed yet cold? This isn't a child, he thought. The man's hand trembled as he placed his piece in accordance to the boy's will.

Tap.

Kiyotaka pushes his attack, drawing an elicit gasp from his competitor. The man across the table finally understood that the boy was thinking of every possible strategy and deliberately picking the most aggressive stance. As a probe – a test. The man was deeply moved even admits his terror.

Tap.

How is it, the boy thinks, that humans can sense the gaze of others so easily?

Is it intuition? A supernatural power?

Tap.

The man was laughably mistaken. The boy before him had not given the game in front of him the slightest time of day. It was simply an autonomous action. The 'master' before him simply did not require a significant amount of brain power to deal with.