Honinbo Shusai - Tamura Yasuhisa
A Letter Arrives with the Funeral Notice
After Shuho's death, the Hoensha remained surprisingly stable under Nakagawa Kamesaburou’s leadership. But the most remarkable development was the belated birth of Shuho’s long-held dream: a Kansai branch of the Hoensha. The day before his passing, Shuho had sent one last plea to Izumi Shusetsu, urging him to take on the challenge.
When the letter and Shuho’s obituary arrived together, Izumi was shaken. Deeply moved, he made a life-altering decision: he sold off his assets and dedicated himself to founding the Kansai branch. Thanks to his leadership, the Kansai region finally had an organized home for its go talent. Even the historic Inoue house, long entrenched in the region, welcomed the collaboration.
The Rise of the "Demon Turtle"
Meanwhile, the Inoue house faced a change of its own. In June 1891, the 13th Inoue Inseki, Matsumoto Inseki, passed away in Kobe. On his deathbed, he named his top student, Kobayashi Tetsujirou, as his successor. But Kobayashi, then deeply embedded in the Hoensha hierarchy, declined the role.
Into the vacuum stepped an old master—Otsuka Kametarou. Known as the 14th Inoue Inseki, Otsuka had a fearsome past. A former disciple of the legendary Genan Inseki, he had earned the nickname "Oni Kame" (Demon Turtle) in his youth for his ruthless skill in gambling games. In 1847, at age 16, he won three straight games against Genan while taking a two-stone handicap, earning an immediate promotion to 3-dan.
After years of wandering and defeating underground gamblers across Japan, Otsuka returned a respected 6-dan. His appointment to lead the Inoue house was both natural and well-received. More importantly, Otsuka shared Izumi’s vision and temperament. With mutual respect and collaboration, Kansai's go scene entered a golden age.
Tamura Breaks Away
Back in Tokyo, however, the Hoensha was struggling. The death of Shuho left a vacuum in vision. And it was in this climate that a frustrated young disciple made a fateful decision.
Tamura Yasuhisa, later known as Honinbo Shusai, had grown disillusioned. Born in 1874, he joined the Hoensha at age 11 and was subjected to its notoriously rigid training system. Under Shuho’s regime, a student could not graduate without reaching 5-dan—an immensely difficult feat.
Though Tamura rose to 1-dan at 13, the road ahead was daunting. When his parents died soon after, he had no family to lean on. By age 18, he was still only 2-dan, with little prospect of advancement. Surrounded by more senior peers, he felt invisible and stifled.
Eventually, despair won. Tamura vanished from the Hoensha, seeking to start anew.
The Bitter Winter Pilgrimage
Tamura first tried his hand at business—running a job referral agency, then a trading firm—but both ventures failed. His savings dried up, and he drifted through Tokyo, destitute.
Just as he neared rock bottom, a rumor reached him: a Zen temple in Bōshū Province was seeking a resident go instructor. Determined not to lose this opportunity, Tamura set off into a bitter winter night.
The journey was grueling. Snow fell in sheets. Tamura, poorly clothed and exhausted, stumbled through the night, reaching Tōfuku Temple by dawn—only to find the gates still closed.
He collapsed outside, nearly frozen. When the monks discovered him, they assumed he was a beggar who had died in the cold. Only after bringing him inside and reviving him with warm porridge did they learn his true purpose.
Moved by his perseverance, the abbot hired Tamura. The terms were humble: two teaching games per day, meals, and lodging in return. For Tamura, it was enough.
Meditation and Awakening
Living in the temple, far from the noise of Tokyo, Tamura found unexpected clarity. Surrounded by incense and silence, he began to study ancient game records with intense focus. The ambition to make money faded; all that remained was the board.
That year of quiet dedication would become the turning point of his life.
Return to Tokyo
When Tamura reemerged in Tokyo, he was a transformed man. Gone was the uncertain youth—he now carried the aura of a quiet master. In match after match, he trounced professionals in teahouses and restaurants.
Fate intervened again when he crossed paths with Gotō Shōjirō, a respected political figure and avid go supporter. Struck by Tamura’s strength and composure, Gotō arranged for him to meet Honinbo Shuei.
Shuei, unimpressed by Tamura’s frail appearance and obscure background, agreed to a casual game, giving Tamura a three-stone handicap. What followed stunned the room: Tamura devoured a massive white group in under 100 moves.
Into the Dragon’s Den
Though initially skeptical, Shuei was swayed by Gotō’s praise and Tamura’s result. He reluctantly accepted Tamura as an inner disciple. Despite the formal welcome, Shuei harbored doubts about Tamura’s past and temperament, which would later fester.
Still, Tamura had stepped into the heart of the Honinbo legacy.
The Youth Ascends
Once within the Honinbo household, Tamura advanced rapidly. He absorbed Shuei’s techniques like a sponge and achieved 4-dan in 1892.
That same year, another storm was brewing.
The Challenger from Within: Ishii Senji
Just as Tamura began gaining recognition, a formidable figure emerged from within the Hoensha ranks—Ishii Senji, a star pupil of Shuho himself.
Ishii had entered the Hoensha in 1882 and, within a decade, surged through the ranks to reach 5-dan. His rise was not just fast—it was explosive. By 1892, he had bested nearly all his contemporaries, even managing an even scoreline with Honinbo Shuei: one win, one loss, one draw. It was a feat that few, if any, could claim at the time.
Whispers grew in tea houses and Go salons: Who is stronger—Tamura or Ishii?
Fuel to the Fire: A Reputation Under Attack
It didn’t take long for these whispers to grow into loud debates. Both men were young, fierce, and climbing fast—but they stood on opposite ends of a cultural divide. Tamura was now aligned with the Honinbo house. Ishii was the pride of Hoensha.
The Hoensha took every opportunity to promote Ishii as the future of Japanese Go, and some even mocked Tamura as a defector—an expelled pupil who had, in their words, “the skill of a rotten stump.”
Tamura burned with anger. He petitioned Shuei for a formal match to prove himself. But instead of support, Shuei scolded him for being petty. Humiliated, Tamura swallowed his resentment.
It was only when Tōyama Mitsuru, the head of the Kuroyūkai (Black Dragon Society), intervened—offended by Hoensha’s arrogance—that things shifted. He proposed a ten-game match between the two rivals.
Reluctantly, Shuei approved. Nakagawa Kamesaburou, Hoensha’s president, enthusiastically agreed.
The stage was set.
The First Ten-Game Match: September 1895
The match began in September 1895, with Ishii giving Tamura the first move—a slight edge that indicated Ishii was considered the stronger player.
Spectators flooded the venue. Some compared the excitement to the days of Shuho and Shuei’s legendary clashes. Tamura arrived early, quietly taking his seat and preparing in silence. Ishii, meanwhile, entered like a general flanked by aides, laughing and nodding to admirers.
But once the match began, it was Tamura who transformed.
His gaze sharpened. His fingers moved with terrifying precision. Game by game, he clawed back ground. By the ninth game, Ishii was rattled. Tamura leveled the score and forced the match into “sen-ai-sen”—an alternating first move arrangement, symbolizing equality of strength.
The Second Series: A Demolition
Still unconvinced, a wealthy sponsor named Matsuoka Jō offered to fund a second ten-game series.
Ishii, eager to reclaim his lost face, accepted. But Tamura was no longer the underdog—he had momentum and mastery. In this second match, Ishii suffered a devastating defeat: four consecutive losses, without resistance.
Shocked and demoralized, Ishii muttered that it was merely a streak of bad luck. But Nakagawa and the Hoensha believed in his potential and greenlit a third ten-game challenge.
The Third and Final Clash
Months later, the final series began. This time the games were on even terms—no handicaps, no advantage.
But something had changed in Ishii. Against everyone else, he was a monster. Against Tamura, he froze. Move after move, he second-guessed himself. By the last game, Tamura had once again won four more games than he lost. The match ended with Ishii demoted.
He quietly retreated, pride wounded, his dominance extinguished.
Tamura, meanwhile, was now hailed as a national phenomenon.
The Man Who Broke the Tiger: Hirose Heijirō
But his triumph would not go unchallenged.
From the rural provinces emerged a quiet, weathered man named Hirose Heijirō. Born to a farming family and self-taught from an old Go manual, Hirose had joined the Hoensha late, at age 28. But what he lacked in pedigree, he made up for with steel-nerved discipline.
In 1897, shortly after Tamura’s victory over Ishii, Hirose challenged him. Few paid attention. Tamura was the darling of the press. Hirose was a provincial outsider.
Tamura accepted with casual confidence.
In their first match, Hirose took black and won. Then he won again. And again. Four straight games. The Go world was stunned.
Tamura, cornered, fought back with an aggressive style. But Hirose met him stone for stone. In one critical endgame, Tamura, seeking to win a few extra points, ignored a safe close. Hirose punished him with a dazzling tesuji that reversed the game. Tamura lost by a single point.
The final score: Tamura was forced into an equal opening—“sen-ai-sen.” He had been humbled.
Aftermath
For Hoensha, Hirose’s victory was sweet redemption—not only for Ishii but for the whole society.
For Tamura, it was a bitter setback. Yet he did not vanish. He returned to study, quietly digesting every loss.
For Japan, the duels marked a new era—one where personal ambition, regional rivalry, and raw tenacity reshaped the traditions of Go forever.
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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.
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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》)
