"Hey, boy," he remembered a grizzly old man, who looked like he hadn't showered in weeks, point to an old wooden scrap lying down the stone floor, a circle of onlookers by his back. "Wanna try?"

Mukuro's first encounter with a chessboard was at the local park, on Sunday morning where strangers who have nothing better to do gather like feeding livestock. Old men in particular were the norm: men who have been divorced, men who have fallen out of their jobs, or simply those who have fallen too deep into the addiction to care what else life has to offer.

They carried with them wads of cash during the morning: some real, some counterfeit. Some were clunky looking lumps of metal that "offered" a potential mint value, and some were scraps of bills so worn out no one would consider them legal tender anymore. Real or fake, it was all fair game. All they wanted was a bargaining chip, whether it had monetary value was a later question to decide.

By the end of the day, these massive loots would move hands. It was never sure who would claim them — sometimes it's the one-toothed gipsy who had five wives divorced, other days it's the part-time porter at the longbeach bus stop. On rare occassions, there would be an even split where all players ended roughly the same standing as they began, and one time, a heavy storm blew all their hard-earned cash into the seaside while they were too busy playing.

These were the men you would consider dregs of society. They have lost all meaning for existence and are running only on the measly pleasures of life left to them. Still, Mukuro held a fascination with these men. Fools they were, but they were honest fools, and when it comes to gambling, they held a fighting spirit and tenacity he had seen in no other sport.

Everytime a well-to-do came by, they would pamper him like a patron saint. Especially when it's a wealthy businessman, the glint in their eyes would shine tenfold. What are they carrying inside their pockets? A ten-pound? A gold quarter-eagle? An Edward Florin perhaps?

They would not resort to stealing, they were above that, — but they were masters of luring prey onto their table. It's almost like a performing art. Once they've set their eyes on someone, their vision becomes locked, and they know just how to tickle someone into playing a round.

Was it something you called greed? Was it the thing you called "fraud". Maybe, but for them, it is a craft. A hustler's job is not simply to win, but to entertain an audience enough to make them come back: next week, the week after that, and so on... Sometimes, they would let their customer win, just to lure him into a larger bet.

Mukuro did not have any money. Atleast, not large enough for these veterans to play him seriously. Still, he frequented their exhibitions whenever he could. He never understood why, but their play spoke to him on a primal, emotional level. To an ordinary person, they may look like they have little going for them — one could say they have given up on life, but in Mukuro's eyes, they're the farthest thing from it. The way their pieces moved, the way they viewed things, the way they struggled against impending defeat, in his eyes, they were people who have not given up. Not one bit. These walking corpses that do nothing but drink and gamble, come to life whenever they're in front of a board, and that sentiment resonated with him since the very first moment he came acquainted with chess.

Over the years, Mukuro would learn the tricks behind hustling. It was a pricey endeavor — the masters did not hold back milking his wallet dry. But Mukuro always took this as an important life lesson from the people he looked up to. He did not mind going hungry for lunchbreak. He did not mind staving off that new arcade game that came out recently. He did not mind losing weight eating only onigiri for most meals. It was a rite of passage. He always had something to look forward to in spending his money for gambling, and after weeks on end of saving his allowance, slowly, he saw improvement. He joined the ranks in becoming a chess hustler, and became infamous among the region as a two-faced trapmaster.

"...and maybe throw in a couple extra minutes to your clock as well," said Anasthese, snapping him back to the conversation, "I just barged here uninvited after all. Think of it as your home advantage..."

"You're still uninvited, Bitch," said Net, "Go home! (Shut it.)"

"T— That's really unnecessary!" said Mukuro, flustered. "Let's just play on even footing, as a sign of good sportsmanship!"

Mukuro was staring fixedly at the tips of her fingers as she arranged the Black pieces. He always knew Anasthese was beautiful from the way she appeared in magazines, but it was a whole 'nother level in person. The fairness of her skin contrasting beautifully with the ivory wood, it almost seemed like a scene straight out of fiction. She had an otherworldly presence that words just could not express. Never in his wildest dreams would Mukuro have thought he'd come face to face with the industry's leading figure. Just thinking about it is running his mouth dry.

Anasthese chuckled. "You know I could just move really fast and you won't be able to do anything about it, right...?"

Uh-oh, his mind raced. He only realized too late, but the pieces were dusty from not having seen the light of day in two months. The Great, High Anasthese, has touched dusty, peasant chess pieces, all because he did not offer to set up the board himself? Is he committing a federal chess crime by sullying the pure hands of Anastasia Therese Vanloic Ezeline??

"AAAAARGH! Why does everything we own have to be garbage???" he bawled internally, while Anasthese curiously prodded a Knight that had anime cat ears glued to it.

"...Hey, you listening?" chanted Anasthese. Mukuro snapped back to his senses.

"Uh, yeah... move really fast..."

Anasthese had a bad feeling about this.

It's not unusual for players who know her to just get all drooly and sparkly-eyed once they actually play against her. As he is now, Mukuro can't even string two coherent sentences together, let alone give Anasthese his best performance.

"Nee~," she turned to Net, "This guy's tilted. Anything I can do to make him snap out of it?"

"Why're you asking me?"

"Well, this is kinda your party to begin with. I'm trying to make you play a game with me."

"You know I still won't play you no matter how this goes, right?" said Net.

"Oh, I doubt that," said Anasthese confidently. "Right now, I just need this guy fighting tooth and nail. You give me that, and I'll show you something really special."

Net eyed her suspiciously. "How 'bout strip a piece of clothing everytime a piece is taken."

"Oi!!" burst Mukuro.

"Not you, her!" said Net. "No one'd want to see you strip, dumbass."

"Hmmm..." Anasthese sat mulling it over. "If it'll get you to play good, I don't mind."

"No way!" said Mukuro, outraged as though the mere thought of it would land him seven times in hell, "I swear I'll gouge my eyes out if we go within ten feet of that!"

"Aw, he's just too shy to admit it~," chimed Net, clearly enjoying the chaos. "If you strip two articles for every piece taken, he's gonna play even better!"

"That doesn't sound half bad," remarked Anasthese.

"Why are you agreeing to these conditions???" panicked Mukuro.

"What, you think I can't end the game in 25 moves?"

That's not the point!!

"If—! If you do that, then it'll just have the opposite effect and make it even harder to focus!" Mukuro dodged with some quick thinking. That did put a damper on Anasthese's plan though.

"Well, what will get you motivated, then?" said Anasthese, starting to get annoyed.

"I already told you, nothi–"

"What is this, a talkshow?" called Net, "Just put some cash in front of him and he's good to go."

"Okay, that's enough out of you!"

Mukuro jumped to silence him, but the mention of money piqued her Anasthese's interest.

"...Cash?"

"Yeah," said Net fighting him off. "You wouldn't know, but he's famous around these turfs for being an inside hustler."

"T— That's not true!" denied Mukuro, going beet red.

"What, no shame in being one," said Anasthese. "Lots of hustlers are great players. I've personally seen Grandmasters get their asses handed to them when they're not careful."

"I— It's not like I'm not doing it because I want to," said Mukuro, embarrassed.

I see... A hustler, huh...

This was surely unexpected. Anasthese never would have thought a high schooler to start walking down that path at such age. (yap yap yap, you are so doing it because you want to).

The word "hustler" usually carries with it some unsavory connotations, such as 'scammer' or con artist. Hustling, in layman's terms, is the act of pretending to be bad at something, and then ratching up one's skill to sucker out unsuspecting bystanders. A trick for gamblers to earn easy money...

Billiards is perhaps the sport most notable for hustling. It provides the perfect environment for competitive matches, as well as trickshot puzzles that have a very ingenious solution to them. These very precise trick shots, to the unversed audience, present an experience almost akin to a magic show. Pool hustlers walk the streets with hundreds of trickshots stored in their muscle memory, ready to reel in audiences using the most minimal of setups, whenever, wherever.

There are many instances of chess hustling all over the world, the parks of New York City being the most famous. You'll easily find one on a casual stroll, that's even assuming they don't find you first... Skilled hustlers have a shrewd arsenal of quick-win plays designed to trick the casual chessplayer.

A hustler differs from a professional chessplayer in that they rely on winning as many games as possible to earn their income. A game of chess will only have bets of $5. In this setting, hustlers can't afford to be slow. Whereas a Grandmaster can earn $20,000 sitting for four hours straight on just one game against another Grandmaster, for a hustler, time is of essence. They have to win 20 games a day just to make a decent income.

That's why hustling parks exclusively play Blitz Chess to maximize profit. It's a lot of effort for small gains (for reference, BlackJack cardcounter at a casino needs to play 100 hands an hour to double his money). On a good day, a huslter can earn up to $400. Assuming gambling is legalized in Japan, that would translate to a profit of ¥30,000.

Of course, as is the world of gambling, bad days exist as well. A hustler will not survive playing honest chess alone. Misdirection and trash talking are common practice, to distract the challenger. But more importantly, hustlers know sleight of hand tricks that will cheat the win from unsuspecting players. Things like moving a Rook onto a square it shouldn't be able to go to, or a more sneaky variation of this, moving the Rook to a square it couldn't move to, and once the opponent calls you out on it, pretending to put the Rook back in its initial square (but actually leaving it on the square just beside it). This effectively gives the hustler two moves for his turn, and because games happen at a fast pace, they can get away with this majority of the time.

One might think this is "unfair" and downright cheating, but on the contrary, as counterintuitive as it sounds, this is the perfect training grounds for heightening a player's board awareness. It forces you to not trust your eyes, and instead commit to memory which moves have been played and which piece is on which square...

"Fine," said Anasthese. "Cash then, huh? Good thing I decided to bring this."

Anasthese opened her bag to reveal, like the ones you see in a business suitcase, stacks of cash lined up neatly from corner to corner. They didn't even recognize what currency it is, it's not yen.

"Woah," Net whistled. "The hell were you heading to, a drug deal?"

"This much is pocket change for someone like me," said Anasthese smugly. "How is it? I can fetch more if you want, I might even give you some if you play me~"

True, Net recalled Rei having large piles of cash even back then. "Nah, I'm good," he said, "that just digs up unwanted memories."

"Ah sou," said Anasthese. "Well, Mukkun~, guess it's just you, then. In here is approximately $10000. Beat me and it's all yours, no questions asked. This is a no risk, high reward opportunity!"

Mukuro gulped at the thought of how much money was in there.

"That is," said Anasthese, and her expression suddenly turn grim.

"...If you can."

At that instant, Mukuro knew she was serious. Her fighting aura was so fierce it could cut the atmosphere. To be able to play against the top player of the chess world, a $10,000 cash prize, Mukuro could not ask for anything better.

...And so they played. Mukuro had the White pieces, with five minutes to his clock. Meanwhile, Anasthese, playing Black, was determined to use only two minutes of her clock.

Mukuro made his move.

1. d4 ...

Anasthese replies.

1. d4 d5

The Queen's Pawn Game. A solid opening that gives good middlegame for both sides, and coincidentally, Anasthese's field of expertise. There are many ways to go about this normally, but the thing is that Anastasia would hardly count as being "normal". London Sytem, Torre Attack, Queen's Bishop Attack, it doesn't matter, all the best moves from here Anasthese has already seen countless times.

Mukuro won't gain anything by listening to theory, he needs to try something offbeat.

2. e4! ...

The Blackmar Gambit. Intentionally sacrificing a pawn to the enemy, in hopes of blasting open the kingside and starting an attack. This is unseen in high-level play, and for good reason: the Blackmar is considered to be bad for White as the temporary boost it brings is not worth losing a pawn over. If Anasthese defends correctly, then the endgame is going to be disastrous for Mukuro.

That said, he knows that playing a slow maneuvering game will just result in him getting outplayed. The difference in their experience is simply too vast. He needs to take her out of her comfort zone, no matter what. Even if this whole operation blows over his face, if this atleast gives him 1% chance of winning, then it's a better fate than sitting around waiting quietly for death. Mukuro is a hustler afterall, so like in true gambler fashion, he's going to dedicate everything on an all-or-nothing attack.

Anasthese accepts the gambit without batting an eye...

2. ... dxe4

3. f3 exf3

4. Nxf3 ...

The Blackmar Gambit, like all other gambits, resembles a move in basketball known as a Fly Fastbreak. It is a risky move where, instead of contesting the opponent's shot, you run as fast as possible to the opposite end of the court. The opponent will make the basket as a result, but in exchange, you have a running head start in the next possession. If a teammate can inbound the ball to you via a long pass, you'll easily take back those points with no defender to stop you. Sacrificing points, for a surprise takeback.

The Blackmar is an opening that's easy to misplay, as there's usually no telling how the position will change in a few moves' time. Black stands objectively better, but that's assuming a perfect defense. In real practice, the Blackmar is a rickety bridge that will knock you overboard when you least suspect it. One mistake on either player's part, and the game will end in a flash.

Disclaimer: the following is a representational imagery to portray what is transpiring over the board in a more exciting manner. They are not to be taken at face value, and any damage incurred will not hold the narrating party liable.

They were sinking, deep, into a sea of darkness stretching infinitely across every direction. A field of small, rectangular metal platforms caught them in their fall, floating ghostly white in the darkness. Each was about a meter wide, and could fit only one person; they were separated by gaps of up to two meters, which you have to jump to get from one platform to the next.

The air exploded all around them, with hundreds of red balloons springing to life like stars. They remained stationary in the air, at varying distances from both players, and even though there was no light source, the baloons had no trouble standing out from the dark background. Both were awarded one handgun. The rules are simple: pop as many balloons as you can until the time limit. You're free to hop from platform to platform to get better aim, but don't fall off or drop your gun. Otherwise, it's game over.

Mukuro made the first move, clocking his pistol and traversing the platforms in daring, continous longjumps. Even in the face of falling off, Mukuro did not hesitate; it's as if he had done this routine a thousand times already. He did not bother stopping, using his momentum to carry the next jump, and made sure to fire atleast one shot at the apex of each leap.

Anasthese followed suit, slower on her jumps and fires, but hitting with better accuracy nonetheless.

Mukuro got his Bishop out, so did Anasthese. Both were scoring neck and neck.

Mukuro did not look, relying only on sounds to count how much the lead was. Barrels were dropping, the sky wafting with smoke. On score alone, they were equal, but both were approaching the game at different angles. Anasthese has yet to empty one magazine, opting to shoot her targets with careful accuracy. Meanwhile, Mukuro has already reloaded three times, forcing through the targets with speed rather than precision.

Shoot. Hop. Hop.

Shoot. Hop. Shoot.

Hop. Shoot. Hop.

Hop. Shoot. Shoot.

A very tight race. Both of them kept hitting their targets, neither player was willing to give ground. As the first phase of the game drew near its end, with a roughly even score of 52-48, Mukuro launched a Kingside pawn march to trap Anasthese's Bishop.

h6 falls to Nxg6, fxg6, Bxe6+

Anasthese evades with the only move, Nd5.

Now comes the hard part. A fresh new batch of targets replenished the atmosphere, but this time, some of the balloons were now blinking. They would pop into view for three seconds, and then disappear for the same amount of time. Not only that, but they were flashing out of sync with each other. The air was soon filled with a chaos of stationary balloons, balloons about to disappear, and balloons about to re-appear. It would be enough to make one's head hurt.

Mukuro kept his cool, and followed through with what he always did.

13. Bxd5!! exd5

14. h4 Be4

15. Nxd4 exd4

The shootout continued. Anasthese now has an isolated pawn, that hopefully she won't be able to protect.

16. Qe2 ...

Mukuro was weighing whether he should take this pawn and bring it back to an even game. He wants to preserve the tension as long as possible to make the gambit pay off, but too long, and it will be too late to save the game. That's when...

16. Qe2 f6

—!?

Mukuro fell to a stop. The Knight was attacked and doesn't have many squares left to retreat, but more pressing than that—...

Did— did she just...?

Anasthese moved the Rook two squares to the left, even though she had already moved the pawn to f6. An illegal move of moving multiple pieces in one turn. Mukuro couldn't help but smile.

In chess, it's common practice for hustlers to insert a few sleight of hands here and there...