I doubt that there were precedents for the ceremonies that opened the
Master’s last game. Black made a single play and White a single play,
followed by a banquet.
On June 26, 1938, there was a lull in the early-summer rains, and bland
summer clouds were in the sky. The foliage in the garden of the Kōyōkan
had been washed clean by the rains. Strong sunlight shimmered on a
scattering of bamboo leaves.
Seated before the alcove in the downstairs parlor were Honnimbō
Shūsai, Master of Go, and his challenger, Otaké of the Seventh Rank. All
told, four masters were in the assembly: on Shūsai’s left, Sekiné, thirteenth
in the line of Grand Masters of Chess, as well as Kimura, Master of Chess,
and Takagi, Master of Renju,
all brought together for this the
commencement of the Master’s last match by the sponsoring newspaper. I
myself, special reporter for the newspaper, was beside Takagi. To the right
of Otaké were the editor and directors of the newspaper, the secretary and
directors of the Japan Go Association, three venerable Go champions of the
Seventh Rank, Onoda of the Sixth Rank, who was one of the judges, and
various disciples of the Master.
Looking over the assembly, all in formal Japanese dress, the editor made
some preliminary remarks. Suspense gripped the room as the Go board was
readied at the center. The Master’s little idiosyncrasies as he faced the Go
board were once more apparent, especially in the droop of the right
shoulder. And the thinness of those knees! The fan seemed huge. Eyes
closed, Otaké nodded and inclined his head from side to side.
The Master got up. A folded fan in his hand, he suggested a warrior
readying his dirk. He seated himself at the board. The fingers of his left
