Chapter 14
The Illusions of Dawn

The modern architecture of the complex rose against the morning sky, its clean lines at odds with the confusion reigning in Takeshi's mind. The first rays of the sun ricocheted off the glass façades, creating a kaleidoscope of light that reminded him, for an instant, of the silver glints of the night before.

The dark circles hollowing his face might have betrayed a night of intensive preparation—an explanation his peers would have understood and accepted without question. The reality was more complex, more elusive, like those shadows still dancing at the edges of his consciousness.

No sooner had he passed through the automatic doors than the reality of the tournament caught up with him. The familiar ballet of journalists was already under way, their lenses tracking him like so many inquisitive eyes. Their questions broke against his silence, a silence he imposed on himself less from habit than from necessity. What could he tell them that would not sound like the echo of a dawning madness?

His step, deliberately measured, guided him through the maze of bodies and microphones. The sports press, used to deciphering the slightest signs of weakness in champions, would perhaps note that faint tension in his gait, that tiny tremor at the corner of his lips. Let them speculate—their theories could never come near the truth of that night.

In a few hours he would be facing the day's opponent, the ōgi pieces set out between them like so many soldiers awaiting their orders. A normal, rational contest, with clear rules and defined limits. The thought should have comforted him. Yet as he went deeper into the bowels of the building, a part of him could not help searching, among the faces in the crowd, for the gleam of a smile he hoped never to see again.