I looked at the go board before me. After the war I would develop a taste for the game, but at that time I was totally clueless. Even so, looking at the state of the match gave me a strange impression. The black and white stones scattered around the board started looking to me like islands dotting the Pacific Ocean. That odd feeling was what got me started playing go after the war.
Lt. Cdr. Tsukino muttered, “What a war Admiral Yamamoto has started.”
I’m rambling on at length about this because, as I mentioned, Miyabe-san liked go, too, and I watched him play just once. His opponent was none other than Lt. Cdr. Tsukino.
That day, too, the lieutenant commander had dropped by the ground crew barracks to watch the men play go. He suddenly caught sight of Miyabe-san and said, “Hey, you bastard, do you play, too?”
The lieutenant commander must have not seen too many airmen hanging out with mechanics. Yes. Miyabe-san, too, occasionally came over to watch our park go.
“I do, sir,” he replied.
The lieutenant commander nodded. “All right, want to play a game?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Miyabe-san said, bowing deeply and taking a seat. “I’d just like the first move,” Miyabe-san said, drawing the black stones toward him.
We were astonished. Even with a handicap of two stones, let alone going first, Hashida, the best among the mechanics, was no match for Lt. Cdr. Tsukino.
But the officer didn’t seem offended in the slightest as he reached out for a white stone.
The game began. At first, the lieutenant commander placed his stones quickly, while Miyabe-san’s moves were more deliberate.
I wish I could explain exactly what happened on the board, but I only learned the game after the war was over. At that time, I couldn’t understand much about the battle unfolding between them. However, sometime around the middle, the lieutenant commander suddenly began to think for a lot longer before placing a stone. Miyabe-san kept placing his at the same steady pace. After his opponent put down a stone, Miyabe-san tarried for a few moments, then slowly picked up a stone and placed it on the board so gently that it barely made a sound. It was nothing like when the mechanics played, slamming the stones loudly onto the board.
The lieutenant commander started letting out groans towards the end. We thought he might be losing. We’d have gone nuts over it if he did. We bore the lieutenant commander no ill will, but the prospect of an NCO besting an officer was incredibly thrilling even if it was just a game. Anticipation swelled among us.
Once the game was over and the tally was taken, Lt. Cdr. Tsukino had won by just one stone.
Everyone was quick to congratulate him on his victory, but at heart we were all very disappointed.
“Thank you very much, sir,” Miyabe-san said, bowing low.
“No, no, I should be thanking you,” the lieutenant commander replied in a hurry, bowing in return. Then, staring fixedly at the finished game board, he said, “What’s your name, bastard?”
Miyabe-san stood up at attention and stated his name and rank.
“FPO1 Miyabe, huh? Might I ask you for a rematch?”
“Of course, sir.”
Miyabe-san bowed deeply. The lieutenant commander smiled broadly, and this time he gathered the black stones on his side of the board. Everyone was stunned. You might already know this, but in go the better player takes white. Black goes first and has the advantage, and the white player needs to have the skills to overcome that initial disadvantage over the course of the game. Nowadays, in professional matches, the white player receives a handicap of six and a half stones, but back then there were no such rules.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, sir,” Miyabe-san said, trying to take a black stone.
“No, I’m black.” The lieutenant commander stilled Miyabe-san’s hand.
Miyabe-san had no choice but to draw the white stones to his side. But what happened next was even more surprising.
Lt. Cdr. Tsukino placed two black stones on the board. “I think even this isn’t enough, but allow me one match thus.”
“Understood, sir. If you’ll suffer me,” Miyabe-san agreed.
Lt. Cdr. Tsukino had boasted that he only needed a two-stone handicap against a pro, so for him to place two stones meant that Miyabe-san was practically a pro.
This game progressed differently from the first, with both of them taking their time before placing their stones.
The game ended halfway through when the lieutenant commander suddenly resigned. As I didn’t know go back then, I had no idea why, but even the better players among the mechanics were cocking their heads, so I guess it seemed abrupt to the entire gallery. But Miyabe-san didn’t seem particularly surprised and just silently bowed his head.
“I’m no match for you,” the lieutenant commander said. “Petty Officer Miyabe, did you study go under an expert?”
“Yes, sir, I studied with Master Kensaku Segoe.”
“Master Segoe… Go Seigen’s mentor.”
Everyone knew the name Go Seigen. A prodigy from China who’d stirred up excitement among go aficionados in prewar Japan, he was renowned even outside that world. There was even a senryu, a humorous haiku, that went, “Go Seigen, for whom the dancing girls secretly yearn.” Dancing girls being young apprentice geisha, you see. I believe Go Seigen is still alive today. He’s over ninety years old and still studying go.
It’s only thanks to that day that I remember a name like Kensaku Segoe.
“So, did you intend to become a go expert?” Lt. Cdr. Tsukino asked.
“No, sir,” Miyabe-san replied. “I had wanted to for a time, but my father forbade it.”
“I see.” The lieutenant commander didn’t ask any more questions, instead picking up the stones on the board. “Thank you. This game was educational for me. If we get a chance for another match, I would like you to school me again.”
Miyabe-san bowed deeply.
But they would never play another match.
Two weeks later, Lieutenant Commander Tsukino was transferred to fleet duty and boarded the destroyer Ayanami. He went down with her during the Second Naval Battle of Guadalcanal towards the end of that year.
After the lieutenant commander headed back towards the officers’ quarters, Miyabe-san sat down on the root of a palm tree some distance from the barracks. I followed and sat down next to him.
“So you used to play go for real, PO1 Miyabe.”
“My father liked to, and he made me at first. But I really took a shine to it, and by the time I started middle school, I wanted to become a professional player.”
“Your father was opposed to it, sir?”
“He was a businessman and wanted me to follow in his footsteps. But I kept studying go even though my father objected. I took lessons with Master Segoe in secret. I couldn’t afford the tuition, but the master kindly said I didn’t need to pay. I took his word at face value.”
“He sounds like a wonderful teacher.”
“Well, as it turns out, my father had been paying my tuition to Master Segoe the whole time without telling me. My father’s love for go was second to none, so while he didn’t want me to go professional, he must have wanted me to get good at it.”
“So what happened?”
“Soon after, he dabbled in stocks and his business went under. He owed a great deal of money to creditors, and our family ended up bankrupt. He said he needed to kill himself in order to satisfy his creditors, and hanged himself.”