The Humbling of Tamura Yasuhisa
Iwasaki Takes the Helm
In 1898, following Honinbo Shuei's promotion to 8-dan, the Honinbo House entered a period of renewed prosperity. Across town, however, the Hoensha faced an uncertain future. Its aging president, Nakagawa Kamesaburou, weary and without the drive to push reforms, began considering retirement.
By 1899, after being elevated to 8-dan, Nakagawa made his decision. He stepped down, naming Iwasaki Kenzo—a sharp, ambitious reformer—as president. Alongside him, Ishii Senji was appointed vice president to assist with operations.
Sweeping Reforms Amid Crisis
Iwasaki wasted no time. He slashed costs by relocating the Hoensha headquarters to his own home, transforming it into a lean, frugal operation. The previous headquarters, modest in size and indistinguishable from a common townhouse, had already reflected Hoensha’s financial decline. Now, with members only gathering on match days or when scheduled, the move caused no disruption.
Iwasaki then overhauled the ōteai (ranking tournament) system: two sessions per month, held on the first and second Wednesdays. Each game was reviewed by the players, a referee, and a trio of senior judges—Nakagawa, Iwasaki, and Ishii—with commentary published in the Go Shinpō newspaper.
He monetized every opportunity: charging membership dues, entry fees, visitor fees on match days, and even publishing commercial advertisements in the Go Shinpō’s 20th anniversary edition. The results were swift. Revenue surged. Morale recovered. The Hoensha was reborn.
A Masterstroke in Media
Iwasaki’s greatest coup came in August 1899, when he proposed the first telegraphic Go match in history. Hosted by Yomiuri Shimbun, it pitted Iwasaki in Tokyo against Izumi Shusetsu in Osaka. Each move was relayed by telegram and published one per day, accompanied by rich commentary. The match ran from September 1 to December 8, captivating readers.
Letters poured into Yomiuri’s offices—an average of 50 per day. Once a third-tier publication, the paper suddenly soared into the ranks of Japan’s top newspapers. Rival publications took note, and soon “newspaper-sponsored Go matches” became the norm.
Today’s massive pro Go tournaments, bankrolled by media giants, all owe their origin to Iwasaki.
A Prosperous Society—With Cracks
Buoyed by success, Iwasaki launched a beginner’s publication, the Go Shoshin Shinpō, in February 1900. It sold briskly. Money poured in. Membership ballooned to over 500 ranked players.
But not all was well.
Iwasaki’s autocratic style began to chafe. Ishii Senji found himself sidelined, unable to influence policy despite his title. Other members resented Iwasaki’s domineering behavior. Discontent simmered beneath the surface.
A Political Sacrifice: Targeting Tamura Yasuhisa
Iwasaki, ever astute, sensed the disquiet. And so he chose a dramatic show of strength—to “kill a chicken to scare the monkeys.” His target: Tamura Yasuhisa, now the pride of the Honinbo House.
Tamura had clawed his way back to prominence after earlier setbacks. In just 18 months, he had defeated both Hirose Heijirō and Ishii Senji. Among professionals, he was now widely seen as second only to Shuei.
Iwasaki calculated: If he could humble Tamura in public, his authority would be unquestioned.
The Birthday Trap and the Shadow of a Scandal
An opportunity came in the form of Mrs. Tamiko, wife of the powerful merchant Takata and a major sponsor of both the Hoensha and Honinbo houses. Her 40th birthday celebration brought the Go world together.
Shuei, due to a private rift with Tamiko, refused to attend, sending Tamura as his representative. This falling-out stemmed from an incident involving one of Shuei’s promising disciples, Nozawa Chikuchō. Brilliant yet reckless, Nozawa had become entangled in a romantic scandal with a young woman believed to be connected to Tamiko’s family.
Tamiko, furious at the disgrace, demanded that Shuei expel Nozawa from the Honinbo house. Shuei, however, despised outside interference and famously retorted, “The internal affairs of Honinbo House are not for outsiders to dictate.” Their relationship never recovered.
Thus, at the celebration, the Honinbo House was represented only by Tamura.
During the festivities, a ceremonial game was arranged between two high-profile figures. Naturally, Iwasaki and Tamura were chosen. Tamura assumed the match would be perfunctory—perhaps 30 moves before both bowed out.
But as they sat at the board, Iwasaki grinned: “Let’s not make this one of those polite exhibitions. No adjournments. We play to the end.”
Tamura, caught off guard, accepted with a forced smile.
The Match That Wouldn’t End
Tamura played first, expecting a brisk pace. But Iwasaki was delayed. He took half an hour to make his second move, then returned his stone to the bowl without playing.
Another half-hour passed. Finally, Iwasaki played. The game dragged on agonizingly. By midnight, only a handful of stones lay on the board.
Tamura realized the horror: Iwasaki was using “sitting endurance”—a psychological weapon of glacial pacing. Tamura couldn’t resign. The match had to be played to a conclusion. Only the player with White—Iwasaki—had the right to call a halt.
Onlookers took turns keeping Tamura company through the night. His legs went numb. He stood often, trying to keep blood flowing.
By the third night, Tamura’s body began to fail. Iwasaki remained still as a statue. Tamura, swaying, eyes half-shut, finally collapsed forward—his arms sweeping the board, scattering stones across the tatami.
He had fallen asleep on the goban.
The Aftermath
Iwasaki roared with laughter. “I knew you wouldn’t last,” he said. He rose with satisfaction, swaggered home, and—according to rumor—played a casual teaching game before retiring for the night.
Word spread instantly. Tamura, the vanguard of Honinbo pride, had been publicly humiliated. But more than that, the entire Go world now understood: Iwasaki ruled not just with moves, but with control.
It was a turning point—not of skill, but of politics.
And Tamura, for all his brilliance, had underestimated the power of patience.
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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》)
