Ep. 1: The Go Saint and the Emperor’s Golden Pillow: The Daring Monk Who Outsmarted the Emperor
A Game of Stones and Stories
The scent of pine incense hung in the air as the monk approached the palace gate, his shaved head gleaming under the spring sun. He walked slowly, deliberately, as if each step on the stone path was a move on a Go board. Behind him, guards whispered, and the golden treasure in his robe pressed against his ribs.
For the third time, he’d won. But this time, he meant to keep what was his.
The Barber Who Became a Legend
Before the silk robes and royal games, before the whispered name “Go Saint” passed through Kyoto’s temples and teahouses, he was simply Tachibana Yoshitoshi—a barber with callused hands and a quiet hunger for something more.
He found it behind the monastery walls. There, in the shaded halls of Ninna-ji Temple, he took the name Kanren and discovered a quiet passion that would set his life—and legend—into motion: the game of Go.
At first, he played for peace. Then, for mastery. In time, he played for something more.
A Monk's Obsession
In the silence of dawn, as temple bells tolled, Kanren sat cross-legged before the wooden Go board. Stone after stone, black and white, he placed them like prayers. His eyes saw not only the current move, but ten moves ahead.
The monks whispered of his skill. The townspeople, too. And before long, word of the monk who could not be beaten drifted into the golden chambers of the emperor himself.
Enter the Dragon: Emperor Daigo’s Court
At the heart of Kyoto, in halls of painted screens and whispered intrigue, Emperor Daigo held court. Young, curious, and clever, Daigo adored the game of Go—but he had grown weary of easy victories. His advisors never dared win, lest they face his wrath. Games, once thrilling, had become dull performances.
That changed the day a monk named Kanren bowed before the emperor and declared, softly but boldly:
“I shall give His Majesty a two-stone handicap.”
The Court Falls Silent
A hush fell over the golden room.
The emperor raised an eyebrow, amused yet curious. “No handicap,” he said. “Let us play even.”
Then, leaning in, his voice took a sharper edge:
“But know this—if you lose, you shall lose your head.”
Kanren bowed again. Calm. Unshaken.
A murmur passed through the court. A game was about to be played—not just of stones, but of honor, risk, and reputation.
A Dance on the Board
The first stone clicked. Then another.
What followed was not a slaughter—it was a ballet. Kanren played not to crush, but to teach, to charm, to lead. He guided the emperor through shapes and traps, building a quiet storm of strategy.
Hours passed. A ko fight emerged—a bitter struggle over one vital point. And when the dust settled, Kanren had won.
By exactly one point.
The Emperor’s Gift and the Guards’ Greed
Pleased, Daigo smiled and offered Kanren a rare prize: a golden pillow, its fabric shimmering like starlight.
But as Kanren made his way out, the palace guards stopped him.
“This gift may not leave the grounds,” they said. They took the pillow.
Kanren’s protests were polite. Firm. Useless.
He returned to his temple empty-handed.
The Second Game: The Monk Strikes Back
The next time, after another brilliant match, the emperor again offered a pillow. Kanren bowed gratefully—but this time, he had a plan.
He slipped the pillow into his robes, securing it close to his chest.
But the guards were ready. They searched him like smugglers at sea. The pillow was found, seized, and once again, taken from his hands.
The Final Trick: A Dry Well and Wet Wit
The third time, Kanren came not only to play—but to win.
Before the game, he crafted a fake golden pillow, one that looked and felt just like the real thing.
After the match, after the pillow was again gifted, Kanren placed the real one in his robe. In his hands, he held the decoy.
At the palace gate, he paused, staggered, and gasped:
“Oh no! I dropped it—in the well!”
He tossed the fake into a nearby dry well.
The guards leapt into action, scrambling to retrieve the treasure.
Kanren walked away, robes rustling, a real smile hidden beneath them—and the real pillow safe inside.
When the Emperor Heard
Daigo was told, of course. One does not trick the palace and remain anonymous.
But when he heard what Kanren had done, he did not scowl. He laughed—a true, rich, belly-deep laugh.
“What a monk!” he said. “Worthy of the board, and the throne.”
The Book of Patterns
Their friendship blossomed. Kanren became a frequent guest at court, guiding the emperor through games that challenged and delighted.
In the year 991, Kanren presented Daigo with a final gift—Kishiki, or Go Patterns—a handwritten manual of Go tactics and strategies. It would become Japan’s first known Go text.
Time faded the ink, and only fragments remain. But the spirit—of wit, wisdom, and quiet rebellion—lives on.
The Monk Who Played the Court
Kanren’s story is one of genius and grit, of humility balanced by nerve. He broke no laws. He raised no sword. And yet, he challenged an emperor, three times and walked away not only with treasures—but with respect.
His games were never recorded, yet they live in every whisper of his name: Kanren, the Go Saint.
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Original Source & Adaptation Note:
This story is based on a true historical account, originally composed by 薛至诚 (Xue Zhicheng) in the 1980s as part of the book 日本围棋故事 (Go Stories from Japan). While the core events are rooted in fact, some scenes have been lightly dramatized to enhance storytelling and immersion for modern readers.
