evening with challenges to chess and Ninuki. He lost repeatedly to Onoda
at Ninuki, also known as Korean Gomoku.
admiration.
Onoda made a record of a Go match I played with Goi, reporter for the
Nichinichi. To have a player of the Sixth Rank as recorder was an honor
denied even the Master. I played Black and won by five points. A chart of
the game appeared in The Way of Go, journal of the Association.
It had been agreed that there would be a day to rest from the journey, and
that play would be resumed on the tenth. On mornings of play Otaké was a
changed man. Tight-mouthed and almost sullen, shoulders back, he paced
the halls defiantly. Below the full, somewhat swollen eyelids, the narrow
eyes sent forth a fierce light.
But there came a complaint from the Master. Because of the roar of the
waters, he said, he had spent two sleepless nights. Reluctantly, he posed for
pictures before the Go board, in a room as far as possible from the river. He
let it be known that he wished a change of inns.
Insomnia scarcely seemed an adequate reason for postponing a session.
The way of Go, moreover, demanded that a player honor his commitments
even if his father was dying, even if he seemed on the verge of collapse.
The principle still tends to be respected. And to lodge a complaint on the
very morning of a session, even if the complainant was the Master himself,
showed quite astonishing autocratic tendencies. The match was important
for the Master, to be sure, but it was even more important for Otaké.
Since no one among the managers, now and on the earlier occasion when
the Master had broken a promise, was prepared to act as umpire and hand
down an order, Otaké must have felt considerable uneasiness about the
further course of the match. He quietly acceded to the Master’s wishes,
however, his face showing scarcely a trace of displeasure.
