When the Master was released from St. Luke’s, the match, recessed for
three months, was resumed at the Dankōen in Itō. On the first day there
were only five plays, from Black 101 to Black 105. A dispute arose over
scheduling the next session. Otaké rejected the modified rules the Master
proposed for reasons of health, and said that he would forfeit the game. The
dispute was more stubbornly complicated than a similar disagreement had
been at Hakoné.
Tense days followed one another as the contestants and managers
remained “sealed in” at the Dankōen. One day the Master drove to Kawana
for a change of air. It was most remarkable for a man who hated such
excursions to venture forth on his own. I went with him, as did Murashima
of the Fifth Rank, who was one of his disciples, and the young girl, herself
a professional Go player, who was keeping the records.
But it seemed wrong that, having arrived at the Kawana Hotel, the
Master had nothing to do except sit in the vast Western-style lounge and
drink orange pekoe.
Glass-enclosed, the semicircular lounge thrust forward into the garden. It
was like an observatory or a sun room. To the left and right of the broad
lawn were golf courses, the Fuji course and the Oshima course. Beyond the
lawn and the golf courses was the sea.
I had long been fond of the bright, open view from Kawana. I had
thought I would show it to the gloomy old man, and I watched to see his
reaction. He sat in silence, as if not even aware of the view before him. He
did not look at the other guests. There was no change in his expression and
he had nothing to say about the scenery or about the hotel; and so, as
