2.

As I entered the Test room, I was taken aback as to the amount of people there. I had counted on two or three but here were seven: two I didn't know at all, and five that I did. I had not expected Touya and Isumi, but I wasn't surprised to see Master T there. I recognized Ogata of course and I recalled the name of the last person there that I did know; Master Hagiwara, whom I had played only a few times over the past four years. He was good at Go, which was reflected in his status as a level 9 Pro player. He hadn't been very good at or interested in post-game analysis though, which was probably why he hardly ever played students. The two unknown men had serious faces. At the time I assumed they were some Pros I hadn't met yet; there were Go Pros all around Japan and it stood to reason not all would necessarily come to the Institute building in Edo in their careers.

All important games were held in traditional Japanese settings, on the floor, instead of the more usual style settings of tables and chairs. Master T sat on the traditional matting. Before him was a very nice old Goban with the closed Goke on top of it. He was dressed in his usual Japanese garb, but a little more formal looking version of it. Touya also wore a traditional outfit and he sat in seisa, like his dad, at Master T's side, as though he was there to assist. And maybe he was as some folders lay closed next to him, ready to be consulted if needed. The others sat on their knees in a row along the back wall, all wearing suits, even Isumi.

I was bid to sit down and Master T immediately started a game. He played black and I white, and no handicap was set, as it was to be an even game.

Not too surprisingly, I started losing straight away. Master T was the best living player in all of Japan, and possibly the world. He would have given the legendary player Shuusaku, who had lived at the end of the first Edo period just before the reforms, a run for his money had the man been alive today. So losing to Master T wasn't anything to be ashamed about.

But what was strange about the game was that Master T started talking to me, questioning me, persistently too, and that was not what I was used to in playing Go; usually it's played in silence. And the questions were quite weird - for asking over a game of Go, I mean. They were about how I felt about things in the world, like the Uneasy Peace and what I knew about the politics and the wars that had created it. About the fact that Japan had opened its borders over a century and a half ago and had taken in so many Dutch and British ideas and incorporated them into Japanese life from then on. About the treaty with Korea that had meant going to war with China in 1933. It had been a bloody war that ended in 1944 with the dropping of the first nuclear bomb in the sea just off the coast of China. The bomb had been a gift from the United British Colonies of (North) America to Japan, with a promise of more should it be needed. Just after the bomb, the Chinese leader Mao died and the new leader, Dao, stopped the war and closed the country. Later diplomatic relations were restored but then later again, something happened and all foreign diplomats were ejected or killed. Now Soviet China is a 100% closed country; no one in, no one out. And the border that China shares with the Kingdom of Korea is a minefield 10 kilometers wide. It's a wasteland with a river in the middle, terrible, I've seen the pictures.

And so the game continued and the questions continued. After history came politics - my idea of politics is simple: feed the people and don't make war. After that came my time at primary school and secondary school, then we talked about Dodge Ball and Go.

I lost the game and Master T set up another straight away. He continued with asking me what I would do in different hypothetical situations, like what would I do if I'd hit a cat with my bike on the way home or if I would jump in a cold river to rescue someone who was drowning. These were surprisingly hard questions, especially because I was also playing Go at the same time. I'd never thought about any of these things before; I guess I'm not much of a thinker.

I did my best to answers all questions honestly. Really I couldn't do anything else as I had no idea what they wanted to hear. After three games in as many hours, Master T declared me done - and my legs thanked him; any more and I would have needed a wheelchair - and sent me out of the room, with instructions not to stray too far off. Outside Waya greeted me, leaning against the hall wall with a can of soda ready to hand to me.

I suggested we take a stroll up and down the corridor so my legs could get their circulation back. As we walked I asked him if they'd ask that many questions at his test and he said they had. When asked what he'd been asked he told me not to ask so many questions. I felt more surprised than perturbed; Waya had always been tolerant of my – often admittedly stupid - questions. I couldn't fathom why he was so short with me this time. But then he added, "The test isn't over yet," and that - apart from generating more questions, which I decided not to ask - left me with a heightened sense of tension, in a good way; there was more.

-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-

Some ten minutes later I was called back in. This time I was asked to enter another room, one with Western style furniture. The two unknown men, Ogata, Master T and Master H were already there, and I passed Isumi and Touya on their way out of the room; I guessed their job was done. The door snicked shut behind me.

I stood for a moment just inside the door, wondering if and when we were going to sit down, as everybody remained standing. Then Master T seemed to grow taller - I swear, I don't know how he does that, but whenever he's really serious or really angry, he does that trick and everybody just shuts up and pays attention to him - and started speaking.

He told me he thought highly of my Go ability - and I nearly burst with pride - and that if I wanted to go Pro I'd be leveled at level 2 straight away.

Hold on, 'if?' Whatcha mean 'if!' Of course I wanted to go Pro; that was the point of all the studying, wasn't it? I think my, uhm, surprise was clearly visible in my face because Master T just smiled and told me all would be explained.

At that point both Master T and Master H moved from their spot towards the door and, by rote really, I started to follow. But Ogata called me back, and told me to stay. He also indicated I should sit down, which I did. He and the two still unknown gentlemen sat at the other side of the conference table. For a long moment we just eye-balled each other while Ogata drew a long draught of his cigarette and blew it out in a long gray cloud formation. I suppressed my cough.

Ogata stubbed out his finished cigarette in the ash tray theatrically, set forward in his chair and asked me point blank if I had heard of the Official Secrets Act. Keeping in mind that this could still be part of the test, even though Master T had pretty much told me I had passed, I answered truthfully, yes I did. The subject had actually come up in school, and yes, I do pay attention in class sometimes.

People could be asked to sign the Act, if they'd witnessed something that had to stay secret for the welfare of the nation. That's how I learned it, and that's how I repeated it to Ogata and the others.

"Yes," Ogata said, with the smug look he usually wore except when Master T kicked his ass all over the Goban. And then he added, "It's also used before secrets are revealed."

He moved even more forward and flipped open a folder that I hadn't noticed was on the table. Out of it he pulled a single sheet, turned it around and slid it towards me. It read 'Official Secrets Act' at the top and the first line read 'By order of her Imperial Highness Empress Atsuko and the Shogunate, and for the good of the state, you are hereby charged to keep whatever you see and hear, or otherwise come to know, as secret under penalty of High Treason.'

I had to swallow there. High Treason carried a death sentence, the only crime in Japan that did. What was so secret about playing Go that it needed this kinda safeguard?

That was what I asked next and Ogata - smug grin widening - said that all I had to do to find that out was to sign.

I took a moment to give it some serious thought. After all, I'm a bit of an anarchist at heart and this kinda thing just reeked of establishment. I asked Ogata if it was absolutely necessary and if it was really for the welfare of Japan. The fact that he lost his grin and took on that look he often gets when he would make his last stand in games against Master T, convinced me this wasn't a game. I asked him for a pen and signed without bothering to read the considerable small print. In for a penny, in for a pound.

After I handed back the signed Act - and all three gentlemen had inspected my signature - I was introduced to the two mystery men. Mr. Ishida of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Mr. Yamamoto of the Intelligence Service, department 5, or IS5 for short.. The frigging real Japanese Spy Department! For a moment I had images of helicopter chases and assassinations by poisoned umbrella tips flashing before my eyes, just like in the oldTanaka Hiro, agent 17 from the JSD TV show. Cool!

But the gentlemen brought me back down to earth in no time flat. "Spying is not like you see it on TV, kiddo." Yeah, I guess not.

Anyhow, they - Ishida, Yamamoto and Ogata - sat me down and outlined my options. I'm giving a very short version of it here because it was quite complicated, and most of it doesn't pertain to my story anyway.

The first option I had was to walk out now. I'd have to keep Ishida and Yamamoto's existence a secret and also the fact that they had been at my Test. The consequence would be that I'd get a level 9 amateur Go status and I'd not be turning Pro. I decided immediately that that sucked buckets and I wasn't doing that.

The second, and only other option, was to continue the process of becoming a Pro. This would involve - at the very minimum - keeping a lot more secrets. Now I know I'm usually regarded as an open person, but I also know I can keep a secret if I need to, and I said so. At this Ogata nodded but added that because I had a basically honest character and a sizable mouth - oh thanks so much! - I would likely end up in a certain group.

I pouted at that - I know, not very mature, even on a 15 year old boy - and Ogata added that the group I'd be in was the group where all the real Go players would be.

As it turned out, there were three kinds of Go Pros at the Institute. One group was full of players who couldn't play very well but were fully trained and very capable spies, another of great players who covered for the bad ones - where I was going to end up - and a third, very small group, who were both real spies and could play great Go. Ogata admitted he was part of that group and I immediately guessed that Touya was one too. It sure explained his many absences. Ogata remained non-committal when I asked.

I did express my being miffed at not being in group three, but Ogata explained that I just had the wrong personality for it; he said my tests - those boring Friday afternoon tests - had proven that. Then I complained that everybody else would be having all the 'fun' he countered by explaining that the second group would also be involved in spying, just not so deeply, and would deliver an invaluable service in keeping the Institute's cover of a benign place.

Well, I guessed that made sense, it takes all kinds to make things work. So in the end I agreed to be in the support group and Ogata declared me a level 2 Go Pro. He even handed me my certificate straight way.

Now, if I had known at the time I'd have to learn Korean and effing Chinese, and take about a gazillion more of those Friday type tests, I might have taken that amateur level 9 and run for the hills instead!

-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-

Why Korean and Chinese, you ask? Well, that's got to do with the International Go Tournament. In Japan only Pro players were allowed to go. In Korea, China and the West, they have different rules about that. And for our safety's sake, even the support group has to learn the languages and some real spy stuff too. Rather cool that.

Now, I'm not going to tell you everything I learned to make me ready to attend the tournament for the first time; you can easily look that up and it's a long and boring read. I should know, I had to memorize it all. But I think I probably should tell a little more about the tournament at that particular time, as its function and form has changed over time.

Now, China was a hermetically sealed country and Korea only had its ports open to foreigners because they were worried China would take offense should any foreign spy come anywhere close to the Korean-Chinese border. And if you look at the map, you can understand that Korea really doesn't want to piss off China, because Korea is a dead duck should China go to war with them. Urg, I don't envy Korea its position.

So China's completely closed, Korea's almost completely closed and Japan is an island on its own, and while we do get foreign trade - and influences - we are quite far away from our allies. Our three countries have nothing in common; our location on the planet only, really. That, and that we all love playing Go. And that is where the tournament comes in; it is the only time Chinese, Koreans and Japanese are even remotely interested in coming together.

For the first half of the last century infrequent tournaments were held on big ships in the seas between our nations. But then in the 1960s, with the aid of the Friendly Nations' Council, on a little island that lies almost exactly between Korea and Japan, a big conference complex was built - by the Swedes, I believe, the only Nation all three countries could agree on - where peace conferences could be held and also the International Go Tournament ('InGoTo' for short). It was then that a non-Asian contingent was added. It's been an annual event since then, held in the 9th month of the year.

Of course what with the Uneasy Peace, it's not an entirely safe event and the Shogunate refuses to send ill-prepared people there. Hence my spy training, even if I'd be going there to only play Go.

Exactly 1024 players are allowed to come to the InGoTo, divided over the three Asian nations and the non-Asian contingent - usually called 'the West' - and they must all play at world class levels. The numbers are divided up equally between the four groups, so 256 contestants per group. There was also an allotment for support staff, trainers, caretakers and the like. The West, Korea and us would actually bring such type people, even if those of ours and I suspect those of Korea had had at least some special spy training. But it was blatantly obvious that China brought security personnel which Waya nicknamed 'goons.' And you know, once I got to the convention center for the first time I was forced to agree with his assessment; I'd never seen Asians as tall and muscled as those Chinese goons in my life before! Made me glad I was only in the support group and not a real spy!

-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-

I did well as a young Go Pro. But my admittance into the Pro Games room wasn't quite what I had hoped it to be. A lot of the time the support group was busy faking games for the spy-only group or just plain covering for the 'Aces,' as the group of spies with great Go ability were known. When that happened we had to sit at an empty Goban and pretend the other was indeed there and then either an earlier played game would be entered into the records or we'd play the game later that same day - some times in the dead of night - when the spy player had found a few hours time between missions, often exchanging moves over a radio connection or computer chat; not ideal.

Pretty much all my games against Touya were played in that way. It was really galling to me because I had set the target of my Go ambition on him - being that we were the same age and all - but because each time we played Touya was at a disadvantage because his mind was really on his mission and not on the game. Understandable of course, and I'm sure it won me many a game, but I'd rather lose to him if that meant he could play more seriously!

The situation became so frustrating to me that, about one year after turning Pro I seriously considered quitting. I took my problem to Master S first then, but then I realized I couldn't tell him anything about the situation because of the Act, I had him ask Master T for a talk. Master T intimidates me and I wasn't sure he'd even speak to a low level player like me. But it turned out he would and we had a long talk and he promised I'd get more chances to play better players.

He saw what I hadn't realized, that not only had I - and a whole bunch of the younger support players – not been playing equal games against our peers but not much with any of the older Pros. So after our talk that changed. And for me it meant I got to play against Touya properly - and get slaughtered on the board - face to face, in his house if it was outside of institute hours. I was ecstatic.

-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-

Between Go games, spy school and endless psych tests, I also had a few chances to take part in actual spy missions. And no, I don't have many exciting stories to show for it. For one, I'm not allowed to tell anybody anything and for another, spying, real spying, is a deadly dull business. Literally 'deadly dull.' It's hours, days even, of taking turns sitting alone in a stuffy hotel bedroom, pretending you're playing exciting Go while actually listening to the feed from an ear-bud that is connected to a bug in a room nearby, with nothing on it but hours of someone's snoring. And you can't let your mind drift 'cause that's when you might miss something of extreme importance. This mind numbing monotony is then interspersed with very rare moments of high activity when one of the Aces rushes in and makes you set the place up as having been the scene of many hours of intensive Go gambling, eating junk food and drinking soda pop, so when the local police come around - in that particular case, six large Australian members of the SWAT team, complete with bulletproof vests and attack dogs - we look like a bunch of naughty Japanese teens who are living it up big because we're away from home for the first time; anything as long as we don't look like spies! And I never did find out why I was listening to that snoring guy or why Touya and Isumi wanted us to look like that, other than for cover.

I talked to Waya about my disappointment with not being one of the Aces, feeling a little bit like a whiner. So I wasn't doing the cool stuff, I should get over that already, I knew that. But Waya didn't agree with me and he said, "I think that how you feel is important and I've had the same feelings; it sucks having to watch from the sidelines so much." He then sent me to Ogata of all people.

"Your time will come," Ogata told me after Waya had laid out my issue and had given us some privacy. "One day, there will be something that only you can do, and you must prepare yourself to give it your best. In the mean time, you must be patient and wait." He then sat me down and told me some stories of how seemingly under utilized spies had been placed, after much time and effort, somewhere where they could show their worth. I can't repeat these stories, of course. Apart from the Act, they are not my stories to tell. I did learn this from them though: spying isn't about dying heroically for your country, it is about patience and blending in and biding your time to do your bit.

-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-

I went to the tournament in 2005, 2006 and 2007 (Atsuko 40, 41 and 42). I was knocked out that first year in the very first game; I was totally green and had no clue what so ever that I had been matched to one of Korea's star players, Ko Yong Ha. He, in turn, was knocked out on the third day when he'd gone up against Master T.

But the players who'd been knocked out didn't go home or anything. Oh no, everybody stayed and played Go with those still in the tournament! I was delighted to learn that every single contestant was Go mad and would play non-stop if they could! (Why, I even had to step around a pair of Koreans who were sitting on the cold tiles in the 2nd floor men's room, arguing strategy with the aid of a paper hand towel and a ballpoint pen! I would have joined them, but my Korean wasn't up to it at that point.)

The only people that didn't intermingle were the Chinese. They would stick to themselves and only be seen at the official games and events. There were also never any Chinese players watching their countrymen play. And some players were surrounded by goons when attending their games. It was actually frightening.

Also frighting was the level of their Go ability. I swear there wasn't a single player under level 8 there, where as we'd come with a mix of levels - just because we simply don't have 256 level 8 or higher players - and so had Korea. But China is huge and they are very determined to be the best. So in the past the winner of this tournament had been Chinese about 70% of the time, and I guess China was trying to ensure that that would be an upward trend.

But the Chinese ended up disappointed that year; Master T won by half a point from their top player, Fong Yi, in the grand finale.

I had enjoyed that first year; I had played Go non-stop - playing Ko Yong Ha several times and winning 1 out of 3 - and I had had to fake a game only once. Not an official game of course but an after hours game, me against Touya and Isumi against Ogata, with Ogata and Touya disappearing up the air-ducts to do who-knows-what while Isumi and I played some games together.

The only thing I really had been sorry for was that I didn't get a chance to play a Chinese player; I was just knocked out too soon.

-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-

The second year I did better. I got to play two Chinese players, one game I won, the other I lost, but that was after having played three Koreans, so I played five games in all, making me still in the game on day three! (And winning that ramen dinner that Waya had bet me.)

But the big buzz at the conference was about the two players who weren't attending. One was Master T, the winner of the year before. His absence was not surprising, as everybody knew he had serious health problems. But it was disappointing for Japan, as Master T was really the only player with a real shot at the title. He was actually in hospital at the time of the tournament, so there had been no chance of him attending.

The second player who was conspicuous by his absence was China's renowned star player - the one who had never been outside of China yet - Sun Shun.

Sun had only recently entered the Go scene, and had only ever been playing on the official internet Go site. He never chatted, and no one had ever seen him in the flesh. Apparently no Chinese player had seen him in real life either, at least so say the spy players, and they should know. There had been some speculation on him not being human at all but a super computer. Ogata said that that was utterly impossible; yes, computers were great at calculating, but for Go you need talent and intuition too and no man-made machine had ever shown any of those.

So Sun was a man - or a woman, maybe; I can never tell with Chinese names - but definitely a human being. And everybody expected him to come to the tournament. After all, after playing hundreds and hundreds of games for nearly three years - sometimes four long games a day – it was obvious the guy was absolutely unbelievably incredibly phenomenally good at playing Go. He lost to Master T that first time - by only a half point, no less - and had been winning non-stop ever since, with victories including several more games against Master T! So why didn't he come to the InGoTo?

-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-

In the end that year the cup was won by Master Liao from the Chinese team who won by three and a half points from the Korean Master Hung Chung Ho (an uncle of Hung Su Yeong, who I played several times privately the year before). Our team was knocked out in the semi-final games, Ogata and Master Morishita losing both their games by a small but decisive margin. Big bummer.

The next tournament was held in 2007 and this is where my story truly begins.

Even weeks before the event started there was a buzz of tension, as China had announced its attendee list; Sun Shun was on it. For the first time since meeting the cool super spy player, I saw Touya in a frantic state; Master T had decided he was going to attend, ignoring doctor's - and his own son's - advice.

I think I can understand Master T's eagerness to play this Sun face to face. There is nothing like sitting across the Goban from your equal and rival. The tension, the concentration, the simple electricity in the air, nothing can beat that. So I decided to make myself useful - yeah, not my normal thing, I know - and I promised Touya I'd look after his dad so Touya could concentrate on whatever hush-hush thing was also going to be going on. Waya and Isumi, who where there when I made that promise, added similar promises and I felt really good when I saw that panicky harassed look disappear from Touya's eyes.

It's not like Touya is a close friend or anything, but in the spy business that's not so important. What is important is loyalty to the team and nation, and if me baby-sitting Master T - which isn't a hardship in itself as he's always teaching Go to us younger players - was what it took to make Touya a more focused operative, then baby-sitting Master T is what I'd do.

In the end the Institute provided a full time 'nanny' in the form of Master Shirakawa, a level 7 Pro who was renowned for not being interested in entering tournaments and preferred teaching amateurs, but who was fully trained as support staff and thus qualified to come to the island. Master Shirakawa was not unfamiliar to me; he had presided over quite a few of my Oteai games. He was always ready to sit down for tea and talk about anything you liked in the lunch break at the Institute.

And so the tournament began; my third and, as it turned out, final time.

-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-Go-

TBC
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