Yamamoto cleared his throat twice before he mustered the courage to ring the bell. He had known that Touya Akira was well off but he had not expected to find himself in front of a gated house in one of the oldest neighborhoods in Tokyo. When the intercom buzzed to let him in, he scrambled through the heavy gate and walked into an immaculately kept garden, with a plum tree positioned elegantly over a small koi pond. A scene out of the Meiji era, he thought, as he made his way down the gravel path.
His host was waiting for him at the door. By this point, Yamamoto was not at all surprised to see Touya-san dressed in a sober blue yukata; it would have been more startling if he had worn anything else.
"Good afternoon. You must be Yamamoto-san."
He hastened to bow and then fumbled for his business card, which he presented to Touya-san's uncurious eyes. "Yes, my name is Yamamoto Toru. Thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me."
"Please, come in." The man led him to a spacious room, sparsely furnished except for the several go boards and seat cushions on the floor. "The Nihon Kiin informed me that you wished to interview me about my father."
"Yes, I'm writing my dissertation on your father's work, and I hope to publish a biography with my research." At his host's gesture, Yamamoto seated himself on a cushion, settling awkwardly into seiza. "Would you have any objections to my recording this interview?"
Touya-san shook his head. "I prefer that my words be reported as accurately as possible."
Yamamoto nodded and took out his notebook and recorder. He glanced nervously at his host, whose calm demeanor seemed impenetrable. Touya-san had a smooth, unlined face, which seemed incongruous with his gray hair and made him seem ageless rather than simply young for his years. Other than his choice of traditional clothes and grave expression, he did not much resemble the photos of his father at the same age.
Yamamoto decided to begin with the simple facts of Touya Kouyo's well-documented career as a professional go player. The son, who had followed in his father's footsteps, was more than ready to launch elaborate discussions of his father's most celebrated games.
"The series of games where he won his first professional title soon became acknowledged as classic examples of his playing style. The fact that he was always referred to as Meijin, even after he won other titles, was a testament, in my opinion, to the talent he displayed in these games. He was Meijin first and longest, but he also established himself as a master through the games where he won this title. I believe that was why people continued to refer to him as Touya-Meijin, long after he retired from the Nihon Kiin and gave up his titles."
Yamamoto saw his chance. "And indeed, his retirement...it seems to have marked a turning point in your father's life."
"We were all dismayed at first, but it turned out to be a renaissance of his go. His playing style didn't change, exactly, but he became more inventive, even experimental. For example," Touya-san slid a nearby go board between them and began to lay out black and white stones, "in this last game of the Juudan tournament, just before he announced his retirement, he plays a large keima in the upper left - "
Yamamoto laughed nervously as he interrupted, "I'm afraid I know very little of go, Touya-san. Your technical explanations will be entirely lost on me."
For the first time, Touya-san looked taken aback. "Pardon me?"
"I remember my father once attempted to teach me the game, but that was very long ago." Yamamoto smiled sheepishly.
"Do you mean to say that you are attempting to write a biography of my father when you have no knowledge of go?"
"Touya-san, I do respect your father's reputation and legacy as a great go player, but my interest is in him as an artist."
There was a long, stiff pause. "I see."
"Would you agree that your father became increasingly eccentric after his retirement?"
"Eccentric? I wouldn't go so far as to say eccentric. Relaxed, perhaps. He started traveling overseas more often, once he was no longer restricted to a professional's schedule. On some level, he found it liberating. I remember he started dressing more casually; before then, he almost always wore traditional clothes." Touya Akira gave him a sharp, assessing glance, as if Yamamoto were an opponent. "Yamamoto-san, it's true that painting became one of my father's hobbies, but go was his passion to the end of his life."
Yamamoto resisted the urge to retort that a mere hobbyist could not have produced a masterpiece like Portraiture. "I've heard rumors that his resignation was due to a game played over the Internet with an unknown player - "
"My father always said that he resigned because he wanted to take better care of his health. He had a heart attack shortly before his last game as a professional."
"But do you know anything about this game? I've heard that the opponent was recognized as a strong player, although his real identity was never discovered. Do you know anything about 'sai'?"
There was another long pause. "I saw the game. If you search the records, you will even discover that I myself played 'sai' over the Internet. If you want my opinion of 'sai' as a go player, I will be happy to oblige. If you want to know if there is any connection between 'sai' and my father's resignation, I'm afraid you already possess all the facts that anyone knows with regard to that matter."
Yamamoto tried to change tactics. "Touya-san, do you know why your father suddenly took up painting? He had no formal training, it seems, nor much interest in the art world prior to his first exhibition. Moreover, the style in which he chose to express himself - "
"I know very little of art, Yamamoto-san, and even less of my father's motivations in pursuing the hobby."
"His work largely depicts go games. Do you have any intuition as to - ?"
"I can speculate, but my speculations would be no better than yours. My father never spoke to me about his art. In fact, I believe that he never intended his work to be shown in public; he only consented when a close friend of his persuaded him to lend some of his paintings to a gallery. They were...meant to be private."
"I see." Yamamoto made a few notes in his notebook and chewed on his lip. "Do you have any recollection of when your father began painting?"
"I was growing busy with my own career at that point, and my parents spent much of their time away from the house. My father had a small room, which he used as a sort of studio here, but I only went inside a few times."
"May I see the room?"
"Unfortunately, it's been converted to a library, since the space remain unused after my father's death."
His face fell, and Touya-san's expression became a little apologetic.
"I'm sorry that I can't be of more help, Yamamoto-san. I was close to my father, but he was a very private man. We mostly spoke of go; it was a subject that was so dear to both of us that there was little time left to speak of anything else."
The door to the room slid open suddenly. "There you are, Touya! I was looking for you everywhere. Is your interview over yet?"
"We were just finishing." Touya Akira got up to his feet and smiled at the intruder, who was a man of similar age but dressed quite casually in a T-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was tousled as if he had just gotten out of bed, and he slouched comfortably against the doorframe. "Shindou, this is Yamamoto-san, who is apparently composing a biography of my father."
"Shindou Hikaru. Pleased to meet you." The man shook his hand vigorously.
"Yamamoto-san seems to be quite curious about Father's game with 'sai'. Perhaps I should refer him to you, since you are in a better position to answer his questions," Touya-san said, his voice sounding a little strained.
Shindou-san looked irritated. "Oh, am I?"
Yamamoto said hesitantly, "Perhaps I could arrange to interview you too, Shindou-san. Were you an acquaintance of Touya Kouyou?"
"I knew him, yes, if that's what you mean. Though I doubt that I knew him well enough to provide you with any material for your biography. No matter what Touya here says."
It seemed that the interview was over. Yamamoto tried not to show his frustration as he gathered up his notes. "Touya-san, would it be possible for me to look through your father's papers? Any journals or letters or - "
"My father's private journals consist mostly of notes on his games. I'm afraid they would mean very little to you." Touya-san gave him a polite smile.
Yamamoto knew better than to press the point; instead, he quickly put on his shoes and made his goodbyes.
He learned of Portraiture for the first time in his Modern National Art course in university, after deciding to change his major to art history, much to his parents' dismay. The professor, a charismatic lecturer who wore unkempt suits and never brushed his hair, announced at the third meeting of the class, "The work we are about to discuss today is one of the few works of Japanese contemporary art that have received international recognition."
He fell silent as he turned on the projector. In progression, he showed nineteen slides, each depicting vivid splotches painted on a skewed grid on a wooden background. The pattern of black and white spots was accompanied by a single red dot, which changed position in each successive painting, and there were distorted shadows painted in flat, translucent silhouettes over the abstract designs.
"In Portraiture, we see a juxtaposition of the organic - the wooden canvas - and the artificial - the near-mathematical precision of the gridlines. This tension is especially visible in the patterns of black and white dots, which are formed with chaotic brushstrokes and yet are confined to orderly positions. And then, of course, the dramatic intensity of the single red dot found in each painting of this series. Can anyone tell me what these paintings obviously appear to depict?"
"They look like games of go, Professor," called out one ambitious student in the front row.
"Indeed, that is the most likely explanation. For those of you familiar with go, you will recognize that there are nineteen paintings, reflecting the nineteen by nineteen lines on the game board. Is this work then a patriotic expression of Japanese cultural traditions? Some critics argue that the thick, swirling brushwork evokes certain styles popular during the Edo period and that the red point is meant to depict our national emblem of the rising sun. Other critics believe that the work pays tribute to abstract expressionists of the mid-twentieth century. You may be surprised therefore to hear that the artist came to painting late in life; he was already in his fifties when he produced Portraiture, which may be described as his first and last masterpiece. Does anyone know the name of the artist?"
"Touya Kouyou," answered another student, looking at his textbook.
"Touya Kouyou became initially famous as a top-ranked professional go player; at the peak of his career, he held eight titles and was considered the best player in Japan if not the world. It remains a mystery to this day what compelled him to turn to painting and produce this work. You may be reminded of certain cases of schizophrenia that are accompanied by sudden artistic creativity - and indeed the paintings themselves are not unlike those produced by known schizophrenic artists - but what biographical details we do have about Touya Kouyou suggest that he did not develop any severe psychological disorders. During his lifetime, he never commented on the motivations or the processes behind his art, and thus, Portraiture is a bit of a black box. We have no material except the paintings themselves and our own interpretive faculties to shed light on their meaning. What do you think those strange shapes are meant to depict?"
"The artist's subconscious fears."
"Abstract representations of war and conflict, which are also associated with go."
"Think more imaginatively," the professor urged, and he flipped through all nineteen slides again in quick succession. "If these paintings are displayed in animation, and you avoid letting yourself get distracted by the underlying patterns, what can you see?"
Yamamoto leaned forward, squinting. If he let his eyes unfocus as he watched the sequence of paintings in rapid succession, the shadows seemed to cohere into a flickering but coherent shape: the motion of a hand passing over the board.
Ogata-san agreed to meet him in the lobby of an expensive hotel in downtown Tokyo, where he was staying while defending his title of Honinbou. Yamamoto felt distinctly out of place in his unironed shirt and ill-fitting trousers, as he walked across the glittering marble floor, past the disapproving stares of uniformed porters.
Ogata Seiji was waiting by the elevators, wearing an expensive-looking suit and smoking a cigarette without regard for the "No Smoking" sign on the wall next to him. Yamamoto hurried up to him and bowed deeply. "Ogata-san, thank you for making time to meet with me."
The man glanced at him dismissively. "Let's go sit down somewhere quiet so we can talk."
Though Ogata-san had to have been in his late sixties, he still walked at a vigorous pace, and Yamamoto had to struggle to keep up with him. When they arrived at the hotel café, Ogata-san strode through the doors and sat at a window table without waiting to be seated. Yamamoto inwardly cringed as he apologetically walked past the waitress.
"So." Ogata-san put out his cigarette in the ashtray and leaned back in his chair. Yamamoto felt rather like an insect under examination. "I hear that you're interested in my late teacher's forays into art."
"Yes, I'm writing a biography of Touya Kouyou, and I hope to shed some light on what propelled him to produce - "
"Portraiture. The so-called 'pinnacle' of Japanese contemporary art. Yes, yes, it's all very obvious. Well, I can't help you much, since Touya-sensei was always a very private man, and I was merely his first pupil, not his private confidante. If Akiko-san were still alive, she would be the person to ask, but unfortunately, she passed away a few years after her husband."
Yamamoto deflated and wondered if he should even bother taking out his recorder.
Ogata suddenly loomed forward and leaned an elbow on the table. "I can, however, tell you what I think. All pure speculation but I've invested some time in thinking about the matter, after all."
He looked up in relief. "Oh, so you also have an interest in Touya Kouyou's work - "
Ogata gestured dismissively. "I'm completely ignorant when it comes to art. But I do know about go, and what you art critics don't realize is that Touya-sensei didn't merely paint 'representations' of go games. Each painting depicts an actual portion of a real game."
Yamamoto drew in a sharp breath. "A game played by Touya Kouyou?"
"Only the last one. If I hadn't seen the last painting in the series, I may never have bothered to look more closely at the others. But I recognized the shapes of the stones: it's the part of the board that was being contested when Touya-sensei resigned."
"Resigned? A game that he lost?"
"Yes. Tell me, did Akira-kun say anything about his father's game with the Internet player 'sai'?"
"Not much. I've heard though that Touya Kouyou's resignation had something to do with this game."
"To this day, we still have no idea who 'sai' is, although I have my theories. What I do know is that the game with 'sai' was arranged in advance and most likely arranged in person. Touya-sensei was not familiar with computers, and he had only just learned to play go over the Internet before that famous game. In this respect, I believe that Touya-sensei was the only person, aside from one other, who might have known the person behind 'sai'."
Ogata-san's voice had lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, and Yamamoto wrinkled his nose as he attempted to make notes. "So you believe the rumors that Touya Kouyou's sudden resignation had something to do with his loss to 'sai'?"
"You must understand, I played a tournament match with him right after that game. It was as if he had decided to reinvent himself. At the age of fifty-six, he decides to reinvent himself! He changed as a person too, although people attributed that to his age. Old men are allowed to become reclusive, and Touya-sensei had always been a man of few words. But he would spend his study group sessions staring at an empty board instead of commenting on the games, and I would hear him mutter to himself on occasion, as if he had forgotten that he was in a room full of other people. The painting did not come as much of a surprise; he also began to indulge in reading volumes of old poetry and listening to ancient court music." Ogata-san laughed mirthlessly. "Akira-kun thinks it was merely a side effect of the constant traveling, but I think he was searching for something. Someone."
"And you think that someone was 'sai'."
"Yes, well, I have no evidence. Only intuition. When the Kiin decided to give him a lifetime achievement award, he refused to attend the ceremony. Akira-kun and I attempted to persuade him to go, and when we entered the room, the floor was covered with kifu. The kifu were all copies of the same game - "
"His legendary game with 'sai'."
"You may call 'sai' a bit of a personal obsession...I've studied all the records of his Internet games that I could find and reliably verify. I'm acquainted with the style as best as one can know the style of an opponent one has never played. The other eighteen paintings in Portraiture all depict shapes that bear 'sai's' signature."
His breath caught. "Are you saying that the paintings bear clues to 'sai's' identity?"
"That was my initial hope. I studied the paintings for years, trying to identify the games they were taken from. I think I've pinned down the sources for most of them, and unfortunately, the games are scattered too widely in history to point towards a single person. Three games from Shuusaku - 'sai' was well-known for his classical 'Shuusaku' joseki - and five games from various students of the Honinbou school in the early part of the twentieth century. Two games from Shindou Hikaru, who also adopts Shuusaku maneuvers in his playing style, including one game played against Akira-kun in the preliminaries of the Ouza tournament. The rest I haven't conclusively identified."
"I'm afraid I know very little about go...who or what is Shuusaku?"
Ogata-san raised an eyebrow. "You intend to write a biography about Touya Kouyou while knowing nothing about go? You believe you can understandPortraiture without understanding the game that it depicts?"
"I can recognize it as a great work of art," Yamamoto retorted, trying to squelch his embarrassment. "If it has the power to move viewers who have no idea of its context, surely it can stand on its own."
"Ah. Then I could ask, why are you even writing a biography?"
He could not answer. Ogata smiled contemptuously.
"Well, good luck."
"Of course, you are welcome to look through what I have," said Fukushima-san. "Touya-sensei left all his sketchbooks to me in his will, since I was the first to recognize his artistic genius. I'm proud to say that I convinced him to let me show Portraiture in my gallery; if I had not succeeded, the world may have never known that the masterpiece even existed. You will be sure, I hope, to mention that in your biography?"
Yamamoto smiled weakly and nodded. It seemed to satisfy Fukushima, who handed him two large portfolios tied together in makeshift fashion. Yamamoto opened a flap and glimpsed several pencil and ink sketches inside.
He suppressed the urge to take them out and peruse them immediately; instead he shook Fukushima's hand and promised to keep him informed about the status of the biography.
Despite his eagerness, he forced himself to open the portfolios carefully and took out the sketches reverently, lifting them with his fingertips so as not to smudge the drawings. Much to his surprise, all the sketches were of facial features. One page was covered with eyes drawn from different angles. Another sheet showed a full mouth and chin: the lips were sensuous and pursed in a mischievous expression.
None of the sheets were dated, but he could organize them into a rough sort of order by the progression in technique: the first few sketches were awkward and tentative, but the last were remarkably elegant, portraying the drape of hair around a ear in a few, expressive lines. He laid them out on the floor next to each other and photographed them individually.
He could not tell if the faces, or rather, fragments of faces, were meant to be male or female or both. The long lashes of certain eyes suggested a woman, but the line of a chin and throat in another sketch seemed definitely male. There were no titles, no notes, to accompany the sketches. Touya Kouyou did not indulge in heavy shading or texture; the drawings, especially the "later" ones by Yamamoto's classification, were very minimalist in style.
And yet, thought Yamamoto, they all seem to be copies of a single face, as if Touya Kouyou had caught a glimpse of someone through a blurry window and spent the following years trying to reconstruct it. Yamamoto looked through the sketches again, wondering who it was that the artist had tried so determinedly to capture on paper. Could it be 'sai'?
He shook his head. Ogata-san's obsession must have been contagious.
Touya-san seemed reluctant to meet with him again, but Yamamoto had made up his mind to be persistent. The mystery had fragmented into more mysteries, but he felt certain that he was moving closer to the answers. Clue by clue, the more pieces he gathered, the better chance he had at guessing the picture behind the puzzle.
"I received permission from Fukushima-san to look through your father's sketches, and I wanted to ask you if you recognized any of the faces in these drawings."
Touya-san leafed through the pages gingerly, his expression unreadable. "I'm afraid none of these faces look familiar to me."
"Touya-san, I hesitate to ask a sensitive question, but - "
"Yes?"
"Is it possible that your father had a lover? A mistress?"
Touya-san's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting my father had an affair?"
"Or if not a lover, a muse. A source of artistic inspiration. Someone he wanted very much to draw on paper."
"My father," Touya-san said stiffly, in the coldest voice imaginable, "would never have betrayed my mother. Moreover, my father needed no muse. He believed that inspiration in go came from the self, and I can hardly imagine that his opinions would have changed with regard to art."
"I'm sorry for offending you, but I needed to make certain - "
"I believe that our conversation is at an end." Touya-san rose abruptly from his seat.
"I thought I was the only person who could put such a scowl on your face," called out a lighthearted voice, and Yamamoto turned to find Shindou Hikaru standing behind him.
"Shindou, what are you doing here?"
"Went to watch Kurata play Oka this morning, heard your voice while coming out of the lobby and decided to drop in to say hello."
"I agreed to meet with Yamamoto-san one more time though I'm afraid I could not provide much help with his...'research' into my father's life." Touya-san's frown returned. "Our conversation was just about to end."
"Whatever did you say to him to cause him to make such a face?" Shindou-san asked, looking amused. He leaned over to glance at the drawings strewn on the table. "What's this?"
"Various sketches that Touya Kouyou left behind with his papers. I was hoping that Touya-san might be able to identify the face."
Shindou-san picked up some of the pages to examine them more closely. At first he looked puzzled, then a flash of startled recognition passed across his face before he abruptly returned the papers to Yamamoto.
"Shindou-san? Do you know - "
"I know nothing," Shindou-san replied sharply. "Touya, let's go and get some lunch. I'm starving. It was good to meet you again, Yamamoto-san." He gripped Touya by the elbow and steered him towards the door.
Yamamoto sagged in his chair, letting his head fall into his hands. He stared at the drawings - the repeating eyes and noses, the many iterations of cheeks and ears and chins - and willed them to coalesce into a single face. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see it.
"Who are you?" he asked out loud.
Six months later, a package arrived for him in the mail with a note. "Yamamoto-san," it read, "I apologize for my rude behavior on our last meeting. I found your questioning intrusive, but I understand that you did not know my father personally and thus could not see that the very idea was absurd. My father's marriage to my mother was a happy one, and they grew especially close after he retired from his professional career and had more time to spend with his family.
"You asked me earlier about my father's game with 'sai', and by now you must have heard from Ogata-san his considerable theories about the connections between 'sai' and the games portrayed in my father's most well-known work of art. Much of the circumstances surrounding that game remain unknown to all except perhaps one person, who has kept his silence on the subject for more than twenty years. While I initially refused to let you read my father's journals, I was not completely honest when I told you that they would mean very little to you. If nothing else, they will shed some light on the mystery behind my father's game with 'sai'.
"I must warn you though not to expect any conclusive answers. My father never discovered 'sai's' real identity. He only knew that he wanted one more chance at a game with this opponent. I can only assume that in his longing, he turned to other means of finding 'sai'. I do not know why he chose painting as his medium, but I can tell you that Portraiture hides no mysteries: its meaning is in its very title.
"Sincerely, Touya Akira."
Yamamoto opened the journal - a slim, bound notebook with manilla pages - and marveled at the neat, old-fashioned handwriting that penned its way down the pages.
Today, I replayed the game for the twentieth time. There is a point at midgame where 'sai' plays hanein the upper right instead of responding to the challenge on the left side. A sign of playfulness. He seems eager to start new engagements in new territory.
At a later entry, he read,
The hundred twelfth repetition. I imagine his fingers must be long; he places stones deftly in crowded territory. Sometimes, when I replay this game late at night, I can conjure up a face for the pseudonym. Poised but full of enthusiasm. Not young but not very old either. I believe he must have kind eyes. He uses classical shapes with considerable elegance but has the sharp insight to invent new forms. Single-minded but curious.
Impatient, Yamamoto leafed ahead in the journal to the last page.
The two hundred sixty-sixth repetition. I suspect he possesses great beauty. A somewhat feminine grace but not soft. No one who plays gois ever truly soft.
I am continually reminded of long hair.
A closed fan.
He seems quite real to me at times. I almost believe that if I replay the game one more time, he will appear, like a phantom, ready to play a new game.