A crown a king don’t make.
Even though the aftermath takes a while longer, the battle is in fact settled over the course of seven moves. The samurai suffices seven strikes to deliver todome, the coup de grace.
In this specific short skirmish the samurai takes the form of the shiro no joo, the white queen. Who like some alternate avatar of Joan de Arc takes to battle herself. Leading from the front echelon. Wielding her two great spears of revealing light. Both her beloved black, as her worthy white. Through an ensemble and encircling of these piercing twin vectors, all routes of escapes are cut off, after the routing of the nemesis dark king. And ultimately, his tomb is crafted right then and there, in the thick of battle, as if he’s cast directly in a crypt of molten metal, always ironic since the act of the pouring mirrors the pouring of his very own crown. A crown a king don’t make. Run, hide, and escape. The king turned coward, seals his own fate.
Further chess pieces: