*
After a small meal –home-made jam and bread- Kingston led Barsch into the main bedroom. Inside, the girl was still sleeping, but Kingston had entered with the intention of checking up on her. Leaving Barsch in the doorway, Kingston disappeared into the closet, mumbling something about a box. While he searched, Barsch took the opportunity to get closer to the girl. Although she had yet to stir, he fancied that some colour had returned to her face, and that she looked healthier than the previous day.
“Yumiere had looked healthy that day too… but we both know how that turned out, don’t we?” Silencing the sudden, treacherous thought, Barsch focused his attention on Kingston, who was returning from the closet with a large box in hand. The rectangular case was made of high-quality wood, and, from the numerous pockmarks on the lid, Barsch reasoned that the case had seen a lot of use.
“My old chess set, given to me by my father shortly before he passed away. We used to spend hours lost in the game, trying our hardest to outthink the other…”
“Did you ever win?” asked Barsch, as Kingston gestured for him to follow.
“Eventually, yes, but my father always made me work for it. He was a remarkably intelligent man, you see, and was considered by many to be at the top of his field. We had only a short time together, but he still managed to pour vast amounts of information and knowledge into my young mind.”
“I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay… that was a very long time ago. Why, I can barely even remember his face… or his voice anymore…”
Barsch looked at Kingston’s face, as the hermit set the box down on the kitchen table. Again, another flash of deep-set sadness, another secret the old man was keeping from him.
“Do you miss him?” asked Barsch, trying to keep his tone neutral.
“Yes, I still miss him, even after all these years… After he left us, I made a promise to myself: that I would always put family first. But somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that, and the people close to me paid dearly for my selfishness. I was a fool, Barsch, a fool who could not even see how foolish he had become…”
“Kingston…” What more was there he could say? He now knew the source of that strange feeling. He knew why he felt so… connected to Kingston. He too had lost a parent, and had grown up envying all those who had not. His father had tried to raise him as best he could, but in the end, father and son could never quite recover the bond that they should have had.
“I said that it’s okay, m’boy. My mistakes are mine and mine alone. Don’t worry yourself over an old fool like me, just focus on getting back to your family, and let me worry about mine.”
“Okay…” Barsch mumbled, taking a seat at the table. He knew that Kingston had had a troubled past, and that he wanted to keep it secret, but he would never move on if he kept it pent up. It was not Barsch’s place to say, however, so he instead concentrated on returning a smile to Kingston’s wearied face.
“So, how do we play?” He said, with a forced smile.
Kingston immediately sat up, and began setting up the pieces. With just those words, Barsch had brought back the beginnings of a smile to Kingston’s melancholic features. “Well, first, I’ll explain how each piece moves, and then I’ll show you how to capture my pieces. The aim is fairly simple: trap your opponent’s king while protecting your own, but you will see that in execution, it is harder than it sounds…”
Awakening Page 17