Yawata had looked for the sealed play in the battle zone, from the center
down toward the right. The Master shielded his “eyes”
by playing White
122 in response to Black 121. If he had not, the eight White stones at the
top of the board would have been dead. It would have been as if he had
declined to answer a play from kō.
Otaké reached for a stone, and went on thinking for a time. His hands
tightly folded on his knees, his head cocked to one side, the Master sat in
an attitude of great concentration.
Black 123, which took three minutes, brought Otaké back to the task of
cutting into the White formation. He first invaded the lower right corner.
Black 127 turned once more to the center of the board, and Black 129
finally lashed out to decapitate the triangle the Master had so stubbornly
put together with White 120.
Wu of the Sixth Rank commented: “Firmly blocked by White 120, Black
embarked with resolution upon the aggressive sequence from Black 123 to
Black 129. It is the sort of play, suggesting a strongly competitive spirit,
which one sees in close games.”
But the Master pulled away from this slashing attack, and,
counterattacking to the right, blocked the thrust from the Black position. I
was startled. It was a wholly unexpected play. I felt a tensing of my
muscles, as if the diabolic side of the Master had suddenly been revealed.
Detecting a flaw in the plans suggested by Black 129, so much in Otaké’s
own characteristic style, had the Master dodged away and turned to in-
fighting by way of counterattack? Or was he asking for a slash so that he
might slash back, wounding himself to down his adversary? I even saw in
that White 130 something that spoke less of a will to fight than of angry
disdain.
“A fine thing,” Otaké muttered over and over again. “A very fine thing.”
He was still deliberating Black 131 when the noon recess was called. “A
