I returned to the managers’ room. Goi lay with his head pillowed on an
arm.
“He said he wouldn’t play, I suppose.”
“That’s what he wanted to tell me.” Yawata’s broad back was hunched
over the table. “But it seems he will go on if we postpone it a day. Shall I
ask the Master? Do I have your permission?”
I went to the Master’s room. “As a matter of fact, sir, I have a favor to
ask. I know I’m not the one to do it, and you may think me presumptuous;
but might we postpone our next session till the day after tomorrow? Mr.
Otaké says that one more day is all he asks. His baby is running a high
fever, and he is very upset. And he is having trouble with his digestion, I
believe.”
The Master listened, a vacant expression on his face. But his answer was
prompt: “That is entirely acceptable. We shall do as he wishes.”
Startled, I felt tears coming to my eyes.
The problem had been almost too easily disposed of. I found it difficult
to leave immediately. I stayed for a time talking with the Master’s wife.
The Master himself had nothing more to say, either about the postponement
or about his adversary. A day’s postponement may seem like a small
enough concession. The Master had waited a very long time, however, and
for a player midway through a match, all poised for a session, to have his
plans suddenly thrown into confusion was no small matter at all. Indeed it
was of such magnitude that the managers could not bring themselves to
approach the Master. He no doubt sensed that the request had taken all the
resolve I had. His quiet, almost casual acquiescence touched me deeply.
I went to the managers and then to Otaké’s room.
“The Master agrees to play the day after tomorrow.”
Otaké seemed surprised.
