The Final Game
A Haunting Return
Years passed.
Kondou Sashiba (近藤左司马), the young man who once fled into the storm with nothing but a dream and a Go board in his heart, had returned home to Mayabashi. He married Eiko, the woman who had waited through every silence, every failed letter, and every broken promise. But despite their reunion, something never sat right with him.
He had failed.
No certificate. No title. No glory.
He had fought, begged, and played with all the strength he could muster in Edo. But in the end, it wasn’t Go that defeated him—it was pride. The pride of rival houses. The pride of masters who held grudges longer than lifetimes. Even Kaizen (小松快禅) had turned him away under the weight of factional loyalty.
A Rainy Night at Zōjō-ji
One rainy evening, years later, Kaizen was alone in Zōjō-ji Temple in Edo, reciting the Diamond Sutra by candlelight. The steady patter of rain echoed in the silence.
And then, without reason or warning, his thoughts turned sharply to the past.
To the man he had once refused.
To the blind match played in a forgotten shrine during a storm.
To a young, fragile challenger with a fire that Kaizen had only truly recognized when it was too late.
He closed his eyes. Regret weighed heavily.
And then, a gust of wind swept through the temple.
The candle flickered violently.
A shadow stepped through the door.
Kaizen turned. His breath caught.
Standing before him, soaked but composed, was a man he hadn’t seen in years.
Kondou Sashiba.
“Kondou-kun… is it truly you?”
The figure bowed.
“The night is long, Master Kaizen,” he said softly. “I have come to finish our game. The one we began eight years ago, in the rain.”
Kaizen’s mouth fell open. His memories tumbled back in a flood.
The storm… the blind game… the stranger who disappeared at dawn…
“It was you,” Kaizen whispered. “That night in the shrine…”
Kondou only nodded.
A Game from the Past
They sat down together.
No ceremony. No greetings.
Just the board.
Kaizen assumed it would be an easy match. A reunion game. A gesture.
He let Kondou take Black. But this time, no handicaps.
The stones began to fall.
Quietly. Precisely. Relentlessly.
From the very first move, Kaizen knew something was different. Kondou's game was not the hesitant study of a student—it was the iron conviction of a man with nothing left to prove.
The match stretched deep into the night. A cold wind seeped through the paper walls. Kaizen played with full attention, and yet with each move, it felt as if he was being led.
Not bullied.
But followed by something no longer of this world.
His hands trembled as he placed his final stone. The match was over.
Kondou had lost by four points.
But Kaizen could barely breathe.
“You’ve improved,” he said quietly. “I had to give everything just to win.”
Kondou smiled, faint and weary.
“That’s enough,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
Then, he stood. Bowed.
And disappeared through the back of the temple.
Kaizen sat in silence for some time, replaying the match in his mind.
A Truth Revealed
Three days later, an unexpected visitor arrived at the temple: Seibee (清兵卫), Kondou’s old friend and patron. Beside him was a solemn woman, Eiko (荣子).
They had come with a request.
“Kondou left one wish before he passed,” Seibee explained. “He asked that his ashes be placed at this temple.”
Kaizen’s heart froze.
“Passed…?”
Seibee nodded. “Three nights ago. Just before dawn.”
Kaizen turned pale.
That was the night.
The night they played.
He staggered back, eyes wide in disbelief.
“But… he was here.”
He whispered it, but no one understood.
Eiko stepped forward and handed him a small wooden box.
“He wanted to thank you for all you have done for him, Master Kaizen,” she said.
Kaizen didn’t respond. He couldn’t.
There were no words.
He simply fell to his knees, bowed before the ashes.
A Memory Carved in Silence
Years later, monks at Zōjō-ji would whisper of a quiet old monk who always left a single black Go stone on the temple steps every time it rained.
They say he once played a game with a ghost.
And when asked if it was true, he only smiled.
“If a vow is made in the rain,” he said, “sometimes… the wind remembers.”
Want the next chapter of Go history?
🔸Subscribe to our email list to get occasional reminders to read new stories
🔸 Access high-quality lectures and Go equipment
🔸Join a growing community preserving the greatest drama Go has ever known
🡆 Because every legend begins with a move.
And every game tells a story.
Copyright Notice
This English adaptation is based on Japanese Go Stories (《日本围棋故事》, 2016) by Xue Zhicheng (薛至诚).
For non-commercial use only: Shared for educational purposes under fair use.
Rights retained: All copyrights belong to the original author and cited sources.
Modifications: Minor narrative adjustments were made for readability; all historical content remains accurate.
No affiliation or endorsement: This work is independent and unaffiliated with the original author or publishers.
Contact: For verification or takedown requests, please email help@zeejyan.com.
References
Adapted from:
Xue Zhicheng (薛至诚), Japanese Go Stories (《日本围棋故事》), 2016.
Cited in original work:
Watanabe Hideo (渡辺英夫), Shin Zaigin Dansō (《新坐隱談叢》)
Watanabe Yoshimichi (渡部義通), Kodai Igo no Sekai (《古代囲碁の世界》)
Lin Yu (林裕), Weiqi Encyclopedia (《围棋百科辞典》)
