“Nonsense. It’s a big day for you. Of couse, it’s imperative you do your best for the firm, but in my view this is a triumph in itself, whatever the outcome tomorrow. To be asked to represent the firm at this level, so early in your career, that can’t be usual, even these days.”
Jiro gave a shrug. “I suppose not. Of course, even if tomorrow goes exceptionally well, that’s no guarantee I’ll get the promotion. But I suppose the manager must be reasonably pleased with my efforts this year.”
“I should think he has great faith in you, by all accounts. And how do you think it will go tomorrow?”
“Smoothly enough, I should hope. At this stage all the parties involved need to co-operate. It’s more a case of laying the groundwork for the real negotiations in the autumn. It’s nothing so special.”
“Well, we’ll have to just wait and see how it goes. Now, Jiro, why don’t we finish off this game. We’ve been at it for three days.”
“Oh yes, the game. Of course, Father, you realize however successful I am tomorrow, that’s no guarantee I’ll be given the promotion.”
“Of course not, Jiro, I realize these things. I came up through a competitive career myself. I know only too well how it is. Sometimes others are chosen in preference who by all rights shouldn’t even be considered your equals. But you mustn’t let such things deter you. You persevere and triumph in the end. Now, how about finishing off this game.”
My husband glanced towards the chess-board, but showed no sign of moving nearer it. “You’d just about won, if I remember,” he said.
“Well, you’re in quite a difficult corner, but there’s a way out if you can find it. Do you remember, Jiro, when I first taught you this game, how I always warned you about using the castles too early? And you still make the same mistake. Do you see?”
“The castles, yes. As you say.”
“And incidentally, Jiro, I don’t think you’re thinking your moves out in advance, are you? Do you remember how much trouble I once took to make you plan at least three moves ahead. But I don’t think you’ve been doing that.”
“Three moves ahead? Well, no, I suppose I haven’t. I can’t claim to be an expert like yourself, Father. In any case, I think we can say you’ve won.”
“In fact, Jiro, it became painfully obvious very early in the game, that you weren’t thinking your moves out. How often have I told you? A good chess player needs to think ahead, three moves on at the very least.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“For instance, why did you move this horse here? Jiro, look, you’re not even looking. Can you even remember why you moved this here?”
Jiro glanced towards the board. “To be honest, I don’t remember,” he said. “There was probably a good enough reason at the time.”
“A good enough reason? What nonsense, Jiro. For the first few moves, you were planning ahead, I could see that. You actually had a strategy then. But as soon as I broke that down, you gave up, you began playing one move at a time. Don’t you remember what I always used to tell you? Chess is all about maintaining coherent strategies. It’s about not giving up when the enemy destroys one plan, but to immediately come up with the next. A game isn’t won and lost at the point when the king is finally cornered. The game’s sealed when a player gives up having any strategy at all. When his soldiers are all scattered, they have no common cause, and they move one piece at a time, that’s when you’ve lost.”
“Very well, Father, I admit it. I’ve lost. Now perhaps we can forget about it.”
Ogata-San glanced towards me, then back at Jiro. “Now what kind of talk is that? I studied this board quite hard today and I can see three separate means by which you can escape.”
My husband lowered his newspaper. “Forgive me if I’m mistaken,” he said, “but I believe you just said yourself, the player who cannot maintain a coherent strategy is inevitably the loser. Well, as you’ve pointed out so repeatedly, I’ve been thinking only one move at a time, so there seems little point in carrying on. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish reading this report.”
“Why, Jiro, this is sheer defeatism. The game’s far from lost, I’ve just told you. You should be planning your defence now, to survive and fight me again. Jiro, you always had a streak of defeatism in you, ever since you were young. I’d hoped I’d taken it out of you, but here it is again, after all this time.”
“Forgive me, but I fail to see what defeatism has to do with it. This is merely a game …”
“It may indeed be just a game. But a father gets to know his son well enough. A father can recognize these unwelcome traits when they arise. This is hardly a quality I’m proud of in you, Jiro. You gave up as soon as your first strategy collapsed. And now when you’re forced on to the defensive, you sulk and don’t want to play the game any more. Why, this is just the way you were at nine years old.”
“Father, this is all nonsense. I have better things to do than think about chess all day.”
Jiro had spoken quite loudly, and for a moment Ogata-San looked somewhat taken aback.
“It may be very well for you, Father,” my husband continued. “You have the whole day to dream up your strategies and ploys. Personally, I have better things to do with my time.”
With that, my husband returned to his paper. His father continued to stare at him, an astonished look on his face. Then finally, Ogata-San began to laugh.
“Come, Jiro,” he said, “we’re shouting at each other like a pair of fishermen’s wives.” He gave another laugh. “Like a pair of fishermen’s wives.”
Jiro did not look up.
“Come on, Jiro, let’s stop our argument. If you don’t want to finish the game, we don’t have to finish it.”
My husband still gave no sign of having heard.
Ogata-San laughed again. “All right, you win. We won’t play any more. But let me show you how you could have got out of this little corner here. There’s three things you could have done. The first one’s the most simple and there’s little I could have done about it. Look, Jiro, look here. Jiro, look, I’m showing you something.”
Jiro continued to ignore his father. He had all the appearance of someone solemnly absorbed in his reading. He turned over a page and carried on reading.
Ogata-San nodded to himself, laughing quietly. “Just like when he was a child,” he said. “When he doesn’t get his own way, he sulks and there’s nothing to be done with him.” He glanced towards where I was sitting and laughed rather oddly. Then he turned back to his son. “Jiro, look. Let me show you this at least. It’s simplicity itself.”
Quite suddenly, my husband flung down his newspaper and made a movement towards his father. Clearly, what he had intended was to knock the chess-board across the floor and all the pieces with it. But he moved clumsily and before he could strike the board, his foot had upset the teapot beside him. The pot rolled on to its side, the lid fell open with a rattle, and the tea ran swiftly across the surface of the tatami. Jiro, not sure what had occurred, turned and stared at the spilt tea. Then he turned back and glared at the chess-board. The sight of the chessmen, still upright on their squares, seemed to anger him all the more, and for a moment I thought he would make another attempt to upset them. As it was, he got to his feet, snatched up his newspaper, and left the room without a word.
I went over quickly to where the tea had spilt. Some of the liquid had begun to soak into the cushion Jiro had been sitting on. I moved the cushion and rubbed at it with the edge of my apron.
“Just like he used to be,” Ogata-San said. A faint smile had appeared around his eyes. “Children become adults but they don’t change much.”
I went out into the kitchen and found a cloth. When I returned, Ogata-San was sitting just as I had left him, the smile still hovering around his eyes. He was gazing at the puddle on the tatami and looked deep in thought. Indeed, he seemed so absorbed by the sight of the tea, I hesitated a little before kneeling down to wipe it away.