In Hikaru no Go, the spirit named Fujiwara-no-Sai is a master from the Heian era, guiding a modern boy in the game of Go. While Sai himself is fictional, his world – the Heian period of Japan (794–1185) – truly was a golden age for the game of Go. This was a time when emperors, aristocrats, and even ladies-in-waiting indulged in Go as a sophisticated pastime. It was an age of elegant banter over the board, legendary games at court, and even a few ghostly Go tales that wouldn’t seem out of place in a modern manga. In this article, we journey back to “The Age of Sai”, exploring the real history of Go in Heian Japan – from notable players and texts to cultural anecdotes, artifacts, and the rules of play – all grounded in historical evidence yet presented in an accessible, engaging way.

Origins: Go’s Arrival and Rise in Japan

Go (known as igo 囲碁 in Japanese) originated in China over 2,500 years ago, and it arrived in Japan well before the Heian era. By the Nara period (710–794), Go had already taken root among the Japanese elite. Treasures preserved in the imperial Shōsōin Repository at Nara include a lavish Go board of Emperor Shōmu (701–756) – made of red sandalwood with an ivory surface, decorated with Central Asian motifs like camels, and paired with ivory Go stones dyed red and navy blue. Such artifacts, likely imported via the Silk Road or as gifts from Tang China, show that Japan’s early rulers prized Go sets as symbols of cosmopolitan culture.

By 794, when the capital moved to Heian-kyō (Kyoto), Go was poised to flourish in what would become Japan’s golden age of art and literature. The imperial court of Heian-kyo was a world of refined pursuits, and Go joined the likes of music, poetry, and calligraphy as a favored pastime of the nobility. In China, the educated gentleman was expected to master the “four arts” (琴棋書画) – playing the zither (qin), playing Go (qi), calligraphy, and painting. The Heian aristocracy inherited this ethos. Contemporary sources note that Go became especially popular as a nobleman’s hobby during the Heian period, to the point that it earned mention in some of the era’s greatest literary works. In short, by the time of the Heian court, Go had transformed from a foreign curiosity into a native fixture of high society.

Go at the Heian Court: An Aristocratic Pastime

In the Heian court, Go was more than a game – it was a social affair, a form of “hand-talk” (shudan 手談) where two players communicated through skillful moves instead of words. Emperors themselves hosted and watched Go matches as a form of court entertainment. For example, in 839, Emperor Ninmyō invited two renowned Go players of the day – Tomo no Okatsuo and Tomo no Sukao – to play an exhibition match before the court. These two courtiers were regarded as “masters of Go” at the time, and the Emperor spurred their competition by staking prizes on the games. According to the Shoku Nihon Kōki chronicle, the rivals played a series of five games in the imperial Shishinden hall, with 20 kan of currency wagered (4 kan per game) – a hefty sum even for nobility. The results (one master won 4 out of 5) were recorded for posterity, underscoring how seriously the Heian elite took their Go. Gambling on Go was not uncommon; records from 874 describe a noble hosting Go games at the retired emperor’s palace and giving 10 kan of new coin to be used as stakes, referring to the game by the elegant euphemism shudan, or “conversation with hands”. This 874 entry in the Nihon Sandai Jitsuroku is actually the first appearance of the term shudan in Japanese literature, suggesting that Go’s reputation as a wordless dialogue of minds was already established by the 9th century.

It became customary in Heian culture to award prizes to Go winners during gatherings and ceremonies. An illustrative anecdote comes from The Tale of Genji (written early 11th century): after an evening of Go competitions held as part of a noble celebration, the protagonist Kaoru dispatches lavish gifts to the participants. As the narrative notes, “on the fifth night, Kaoru sent fifty servings of ceremonial rice, prizes for the Go matches, and other stores of food, as custom demanded.”. Evidently, a “prize culture” had developed around Go – fine goods, foods, or fabrics for the victor – reflecting both the competitive spirit and the generosity expected of aristocrats. Indeed, earlier in 904, Emperor Daigo rewarded a Go champion with rolls of precious Chinese twill silk and even an official stipend simply for winning a match at a court banquet.

Go sets themselves were treasured household items among the aristocracy. (It’s said that a proper Heian noble’s bridal trousseau was incomplete without the three essential games: Go, sugoroku backgammon, and a shell-matching set for kai-awase.) Women of the court found creative uses for these items as well. Sei Shōnagon, a lady-in-waiting, notes in her Pillow Book that court ladies would sometimes play a playful game called rango using Go pieces – balancing Go stones on a fingertip to see who could stack the most. Even when not playing Go itself, Heian aristocrats found amusement in its accoutrements, a testament to how ubiquitous the game had become in leisure life.

Illustration from the 12th-century Genji Monogatari Emaki scroll, depicting an emperor (right) playing Go with a courtier (Minamoto no Kaoru, seated at right) while court ladies observe from behind a screen. In Heian Japan, such aristocratic Go matches were a popular pastime and a motif in art and literature.

Notable Heian Go Masters and Legendary Matches

With Go thriving in high society, the Heian period produced its share of famous players – real and legendary. Perhaps the most celebrated is the monk Kanren (寛蓮, 874–?) of the Tachibana clan, who earned the nickname “Gosei” (碁聖), meaning “Sage of Go.” Kanren’s skill was so renowned that his name appears repeatedly in historical records and later tales. In 904, the young Emperor Daigo summoned Kanren to play at an imperial function. The court journal Seiryōki recounts that Kanren was matched against an official named Kiyotsura (清貫) before the Emperor. Kanren won decisively and was handsomely rewarded with four rolls of kara-aya silk (唐綾) – imported Chinese brocade – and even given a salary for his gaming prowess. It was extremely rare for a commoner, let alone a Buddhist monk, to receive a stipend for essentially playing a board game, which speaks to Kanren’s esteemed status as a Go master at court.

Kanren’s expertise was put to use in codifying the game. At Emperor Daigo’s command, in 913 he compiled a treatise called Goshiki (碁式), literally “Formulas of Go,” and presented it to the throne. While this work does not survive today, later commentators described it as a theory book of Go – likely the first Japanese-written Go manual. The existence of Goshiki indicates that Heian players had begun analyzing Go strategy and rules systematically. It’s tantalizing to imagine that the “Sage of Go” Kanren might have recorded joseki (opening patterns) or codified rules in this 10th-century text. Unfortunately, its contents are lost to time, but the commission itself shows imperial patronage of Go knowledge.

Kanren’s Go feats became the stuff of legend. The Konjaku Monogatari-shū (“Tales of Times Now Past,” ca. 12th century) preserves two colorful anecdotes about him. In the first, Emperor Daigo wagers a precious treasure – the so-called “Golden Pillow” – on a Go match against Kanren. Despite the audacity of betting an imperial heirloom, Daigo loses to the monk. True to the Emperor’s word, the Golden Pillow becomes Kanren’s prize, and he uses its wealth to found a temple named Miroku-ji. (The tale neatly flatters both the Emperor’s love of Go and Kanren’s virtuous use of his winnings.) In the second anecdote, Kanren encounters a mysterious woman who challenges him to a secret Go game one moonlit night. As the game progresses, Kanren realizes he is facing an eerily formidable opponent – his stones are being captured and “annihilated” one after another. Overwhelmed, the monk flees mid-game back to the imperial palace. When investigators return to the house the next day, they find only an old nun and learn that a young lady had lodged there briefly for an overnight ritual. Emperor Uda (the retired emperor at the time) concludes that Kanren must have played Go with a supernatural entity – perhaps a tengu or spirit in disguise. This ghostly Go story, likely inspired by a similar Chinese Tang-dynasty tale of the master Wang Jixin playing demons at Go, adds a spooky twist to Kanren’s legacy. It’s a Heian-era precursor to the idea of a phantom Go opponent like Sai – no wonder modern fiction found the period ripe for such imaginative tales.

A later illustration (from the Edo period) of the monk Kanren (right) playing Go with the retired Emperor Uda (center), as courtiers look on. Kanren, known as the “Sage of Go,” was a celebrated Heian Go master; one tale claims he won a “golden pillow” from Emperor Daigo in a Go bet and built a temple with it.

Kanren may have been the “Fujiwara-no-Sai” of his day, but he was not the only noted player. The imperial family itself produced enthusiasts. Emperor Uda (r. 887–897), after abdicating, kept Kanren as a close attendant – the Yamato Monogatari relates that Uda would stroll in the mountains with Kanren at his side, Go boards never far away. Emperor Daigo (r. 897–930), as we’ve seen, loved Go enough to sponsor treatises and stake treasures on games. A few generations later, Emperor Murakami (r. 946–967) and others likely continued the tradition – and in the fictional realm of Genji, an emperor is depicted personally taking on a noble in Go, which suggests such matches were conceivable to Heian readers.

Among the nobility, the Tomo clan produced early champions (the two Tomo no Sukune brothers from 839). The Sugawara clan too had Go ties: the famous scholar Sugawara no Michizane (845–903) was a contemporary of Kanren’s, and intriguingly, Michizane’s Chinese-style poetry alludes to the Tang Go sage Wang Jixin. This implies that educated Japanese were aware of Chinese Go lore; a savvy courtier like Michizane might pepper his verse with Go metaphors, knowing his peers would catch the reference. We also hear of Miyoshi Kiyotsura (also known as Sugawara no Kiyotsura), a learned official who played against Kanren at Emperor Daigo’s behest. While Kiyotsura lost that match (and missed out on those silk rolls), the fact that he was chosen to face Kanren indicates he was considered a strong player.

Women players in the Heian period also deserve mention. Although no woman’s name comes down to us as a “Go master,” literary evidence makes clear that noblewomen could be quite skilled. The Pillow Book author Sei Shōnagon (ca. 966–1025) evidently played Go avidly at court. She writes with unmistakable pride about trouncing an opponent: “While an opponent sticks to placing stones badly on some area with greedy attempts, I feel so happy to be able to take much more territory elsewhere… I laugh so loudly with pride.”. In another passage, Shōnagon confesses her chagrin when a tactical trick fails: she gleefully tried to kill her opponent’s group, only to discover that stone was still “alive,” leaving her own move dead – a mistake that made her feel as if her stone had been captured. Such candid notes reveal a competitive spirit and considerable understanding of strategy (she speaks of luring the opponent into over-concentration and then seizing a larger space – a classic Go strategy!). Apparently Shōnagon was “very good at Go,” as later tradition holds, and she wasn’t above a bit of smug laughter upon outwitting a rival across the board.

Another literary lady, Murasaki Shikibu (c. 973–1014) – author of The Tale of Genji – must also have known the game well. Murasaki’s writings don’t explicitly say she played, but the frequency and naturalness of Go scenes in Genji suggest she did. We might count her among Heian’s skilled players by proxy. In the world of Genji, gentlewomen and gentlemen alike play Go casually in-between poetic flirtations, which likely mirrored real life. The fictional characters Utsusemi and her stepdaughter sit knee-to-knee over a Go board in one chapter, and their conversation is sprinkled with Go terms. The author assumes readers will understand references to making territory or final stones, meaning the Heian court audience was familiar with game jargon. It’s delightful to imagine Murasaki Shikibu, Sei Shōnagon, and other court ladies challenging each other to afternoon Go matches within the screen-covered pavilions of the palace, silken sleeves brushing goban edges as they placed stones and traded witty remarks.

Go in Heian Literature and Culture

Heian Japan’s deep love affair with Go is richly documented in its literature, diaries, and art. No other period of Japanese history features Go in high culture as prominently as the Heian, which is why it’s often called the “Golden Age of Go” in Japan’s early history.

The Tale of Genji, the era’s monumental novel, contains several Go vignettes. One occurs in the “Utsusemi” (The Cicada Shell) chapter: Prince Genji, the protagonist, stealthily watches two women (Utsusemi and Nokiba no Ogi) as they play a game of Go together in the twilight. Genji is ostensibly admiring the lady Utsusemi, but Murasaki Shikibu’s narration casually notes the moves on the board and the banter between the women, laden with Go terminology. The scene not only heightens the novel’s intimate atmosphere but also relies on the reader’s understanding of Go as a cultured amusement. In another chapter titled “Takekawa” (Bamboo River), the daughters of a noblewoman play Go to decide the fate of cherry blossoms – essentially wagering blossoms from the garden as prizes for the winner. And in the “Yadorigi” (Mistletoe) chapter, an imperial Go match is described: the Emperor himself faces off against Prince Kaoru, with an audience looking on. The Genji author even uses the term “Gosei” (Go Sage) in a later chapter, alluding to a character who was “taking on airs like the gentleman they called Gosei”. Heian commentary identifies this as a reference to the real Go sage Kanren. Such nods show how alive the game was in the Heian imagination – real-life Go masters became reference points for fictional characters, and a romantic hero could plausibly be depicted playing Go as part of his cultural repertoire.

If Genji subtly works Go into fiction, Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book does so in personal non-fiction. Shōnagon’s collection of witty observations includes sections praising the aesthetics of Go. In a list of “Elegantly Intriguing Things,” she writes that “the sound of Go stones being dropped into their wooden box” is a delight to the senses. One can picture the clatter of white clam stones and black slate pieces as they are cleared from the board – apparently this sound gave Shōnagon a frisson of refined pleasure, on par with the patter of rain or the crinkling of silk. More revealing is her account of emotional moments while playing Go: the smug joy of quietly securing territory while one’s opponent overcommits, and the private humiliation when a cunning move backfires. These candid diary-like notes show how Heian players experienced the game – as a source of intense satisfaction, frustration, and pride. Shōnagon even records joking exchanges wherein Go jargon is used as romantic metaphor. In one instance, she and two gentlemen (Fujiwara no Takanobu and Minamoto no Nobukata) use phrases like “already in the endgame” or “breaking up the board” as playful euphemisms about relationships – comparing a pair of lovers to Go players who have become “very close” or to a couple on the verge of “breaking off”. Such wordplay only worked because Go terms were widely understood in courtly circles. Clearly, the language and concepts of Go had seeped into the broader cultural vocabulary, serving as metaphors for love and life.

Beyond prose, poetry of the period also references Go. A famous legend from China, the “Ranka” (Lan-ke) story, became a poetic byword in Japan. In this ancient Chinese tale, a woodcutter pauses to watch immortals play Go on a mountainside; when the game ends he discovers that although it felt like only a short time, many years have passed and his axe handle has rotted away – hence ranka (rotten axe shaft) symbolizes time lost in gaming enchantment. This story was known in Japan by the early 9th century and used as a metaphor for intense absorption in Go. The Keikokushū (827) includes Chinese-style poems alluding to ranka, and around 905 the poet Ki no Tomonori penned a wistful waka about Go using this theme. Tomonori’s poem, later included in the imperial anthology Kokinshū, is addressed to a friend with whom he’d often played Go in exile. It reads: “Home at last and yet / it is not what it once was / to me, now that I / long for that place of exile / where the axe handle crumbled.”. The poem elegiacally compares returning home to the feeling of wishing to be back in the timeless bliss of their Go games (where like Wang Zhi in the legend, they’d lose track of the hours). Such poetic testimony shows that by the Heian era, Go was firmly embedded in the cultural consciousness, symbolizing both the joy of mental engagement and the transient nature of time.

Heian art and visual culture also reflect the popularity of Go. The Genji Monogatari Emaki, a 12th-century illustrated scroll of The Tale of Genji, famously depicts a Go scene: as shown in the image above, an emperor and a nobleman sit at a Go board in an interior scene while elegant ladies peek from behind a screen. The conventions of Yamato-e painting – with rich colors and “blown-away” roof perspectives – capture the courtly ambiance surrounding a game of Go. Another illustrated tale from late Heian or Kamakura times shows Kanren and Emperor Uda with a Go board (as in the image of Kanren earlier), underlining that their Go exploits had become part of the storied past artists wanted to show. We also find depictions of noblewomen engaged in Go or other games on folding screens and scrolls, reinforcing that it was a visually recognizable element of Heian leisure. Surviving game equipment from the era (or slightly earlier) are themselves works of art: the Shōsōin ivory-inlaid board of Shōmu, or lacquered Go boxes inlaid with mother-of-pearl. In essence, Go left its mark on Heian aesthetics – whether through the written word, analogies in poetry, or beautiful gaming sets that were as much status symbols as they were tools for play.

The Game Itself: Rules and Style of Heian Go

What do we know about how Go was played in the Heian period? Interestingly, despite the many references to Go, detailed technical descriptions of rules from that time are scarce. It appears, however, that the fundamental rules of Go in Heian Japan were very similar to modern Go, having been inherited from Tang-dynasty China. Some inferences can be drawn from textual evidence:

• Board Size: Heian Go was almost certainly played on a large board, likely the standard 19×19 grid that had become common in China. The elaborate Nara-period board of Emperor Shōmu has 17 lines of inlay (16 squares) visible in some descriptions, but that may be an art design; most scholars assume it’s a full 19-line board. By the Tang era (7th–9th century), 19×19 was the norm in China, and given no indication to the contrary, the Japanese aristocracy would have adopted the same. Smaller practice boards (9×9 or 13×13) are a modern pedagogical invention – in Heian times, players likely jumped straight to the full board once they learned the basics.

• Stones and Equipment: As noted, some early Japanese sets used unconventional stone colors (Emperor Shōmu’s red and blue stones, for example). However, by the Heian period it’s probable that Go sets followed the Chinese convention of black and white stones for contrast. We know Heian nobles had access to luxury materials: black stones could be made from slate or jet, and white stones from clamshell – the same combo later prized in the Edo period. The Pillow Book specifically mentions the pleasing sound of stones dropping into a ki-oke (wooden Go bowl/box), suggesting that the storage and handling of stones were much like today. She also notes the tactile drama of placing a stone and removing captured ones, indicating that the capture rule (removing stones with no liberties) was standard and provided moments of triumph or dejection during play.

• Scoring: Sei Shōnagon’s talk of taking “more area of a different part of the board” while her opponent played elsewhere implies a focus on territory control as the criterion for winning. In Chinese tradition, victory was determined by counting empty territory plus captured stones. It’s likely Heian Japanese used a similar method (which is equivalent to modern territory scoring, since prisoners add to one’s score). We see references to capturing stones (e.g. Shōnagon’s stone “was dead and taken away”), but no hint that simply capturing more stones was itself the goal – territory was the true objective. Terms like “final stones” and “breaking up the board” that Shōnagon bandies about correspond to endgame and possibly seki or dame-filling, indicating a nuanced understanding of endgame procedures. There is no mention of komi (compensation points to White), which wasn’t introduced until the 20th century, so Black’s first-move advantage went unmitigated in those days.

• Tactics and Strategy: Heian players seem to have grasped sophisticated strategy. Shōnagon’s delight in letting an opponent over-concentrate in one area while she expands elsewhere is essentially the concept of tenuki (playing away) to build a bigger moyo (framework) – a strategic insight. The fact she laughs “more proudly than just at a win” when doing so suggests an awareness of aji (the potential left in a position) and a mindset that valued outsmarting the opponent over brute force. She also describes a failed kill, meaning she attempted a shicho (ladder) or shi-no-sho (death shape) that didn’t work, leaving her stone in atari. This shows players did attack groups and read out life-and-death sequences (tsumego problems no doubt existed informally, even if not compiled in books yet). Indeed, a term like ishi wo korosu (kill stones) appears in her text, echoing modern Go’s life-and-death terminology.

• Ko Fights: Although not explicitly mentioned in surviving Heian literature, the ko rule (preventing immediate repetition of a capture) was long-established by then (known in China since at least the Han dynasty). We can safely assume Heian players observed the ko rule; a complex game like those at court surely would have encountered kos, and the rule is simple enough that it likely came embedded in the knowledge transmitted from China. We have no records of how they referred to it (the term ko 劫 is Chinese; Japanese might have used the same character or a phrase like “repeating position”), but absence of evidence in text suggests ko fights were probably not considered unusual – they were just a normal part of skilled play.

• Handicap Stones: There’s no direct evidence that Heian players used handicap stones, though the concept of odds go did exist in Chinese sources. Given that Go was played mostly among peers in the same social class, we often hear of even games. A strong player might simply mentor a weaker one through practice rather than formal handicap matches. However, since Go was also a teaching tool, it’s plausible that tutors (perhaps monks like Kanren) gave handicaps to noble beginners – e.g. starting with 2 or 3 stones on the board. The term san-dan (three-dan) in Genji or Pillow Book does not appear, so if handicaps were used, they were not a prominent topic in literature.

One fascinating term from 874 hints at how Go was viewed: the chronicle describes Go gambling at the palace as 手談 (shudan). Literally “hand-talk,” this term poetically captures the nature of Go as a silent dialogue. Two players engage in an intense exchange of moves – their hands placing stones speak for them. That the elegant Heian courtiers called Go shudan suggests they valued the almost ritualistic, wordless concentration the game demands. It was likely considered impolite to speak during a game, except perhaps for light comments – instead, one was to communicate through the stones. This aligns with the Confucian gentlemanly conduct associated with Go since ancient times.

Chinese Influence and the Heian Go Legacy

Throughout the Heian period, Japan’s Go culture remained in conversation with its Chinese roots, even as it developed its own flavor. The initial importation of Go came via envoys to Tang China (Kentōshi) in the 7th and 8th centuries, who brought back not only Go equipment but also knowledge of Chinese rules and famed players. We see clear evidence of Chinese influence in the tales and terms that circulated in Heian Japan. The story of the vanishing Go player that Kanren experienced is directly paralleled in a Tang collection (Shu yi ji), where the Chinese master Wang Jixin stays at a remote cottage and overhears two invisible spirits playing Go in the dark. This tale was known among educated Japanese – Sugawara no Michizane’s poem references Wang Jixin, indicating that legendary Chinese Go figures were part of the Heian cultural lexicon. Similarly, the “rotted axe handle” (ranka) legend of China became a poetic metaphor in Japan, as discussed, illustrating how Chinese Go lore was adopted and transformed by Japanese poets.

Chinese Go terms and classical texts likely made their way into Japan’s libraries. The Heian court had copies of Chinese classics on various arts; it would not be surprising if a treatise on Go (such as the Tang dynasty Classic of Go or problem collections) was known to some scholars. For instance, Emperor Daigo commissioning the Goshiki from Kanren in 913 might have been inspired by knowledge that China had written analyses of Go. Whether Kanren’s treatise drew on Chinese sources or was entirely original is unknown, but the impetus to formalize Go theory was certainly a result of Chinese example (China had a long tradition of Go study by then).

Interestingly, after Japan halted official embassies to China in 894, the flow of new ideas slowed, meaning Heian Go culture evolved somewhat insularly. This could be why we don’t hear of any major rule deviations – the Japanese basically kept playing Go as they had learned it from Tang China, preserving the tradition. Meanwhile, on the continent, later Song-dynasty developments (like more advanced opening theory or new problem compilations) might not have reached Japan immediately. It wouldn’t be until much later, in the 17th century, that Japan’s Go world would reconnect in a big way with Chinese and Korean players. In the Heian era, however, Go was essentially “naturalized” as a Japanese game, played at the imperial court with great enthusiasm but underpinned by Chinese-derived concepts.

Chinese cultural influence also lent Go prestige. The game was associated with scholarly gentlemanliness thanks to its Chinese pedigree. This connotation persisted; even as samurai rule replaced courtly rule in later centuries, the warrior elite picked up Go partly because it was seen as one of the refined arts of a cultivated person (a direct legacy of its status in Heian times).

In Heian Japan, Go also began to diverge into uniquely Japanese cultural meanings. The use of Go idioms in love poetry and daily speech was a Japanese innovation – the Chinese didn’t commonly use Go metaphors for romance as far as we know, but the playful Heian courtiers did. The integration of Go into seasonal rituals or events (like playing for cherry blossoms, or giving Go prizes at banquets) was tailored to the Heian court’s love of ceremony and symbolism. Even the game rango (balancing Go stones) appears to be a distinctly Japanese court ladies’ amusement, not recorded in China. These little twists show how Japan made Go its own, setting the stage for further innovations in later periods.

Conclusion: The Legacy of Heian Go – “The Age of Sai”

The Heian period stands out as a formative chapter in the history of Go in Japan – a time when the game was wholeheartedly embraced by the highest echelons of society. It was the era when emperors played Go with monks and ministers, when literary giants wrote about Go to reveal character and emotion, and when extravagant Go sets were symbols of sophistication. Court diaries and tales from 1,000 years ago let us glimpse a world where a well-placed stone on a wooden board could win you silk brocade or even a golden pillow, and where one’s reputation at court might include being praised as a Gosei (Go Sage).

The Heian fascination with Go left an enduring legacy. It planted Go deeply into the fabric of Japanese culture – a legacy that would survive the medieval wars to come. In subsequent Kamakura and Muromachi periods, Go quietly spread beyond the nobility to samurai and monks, but it was in the peaceful refinement of Heian-kyō that the game truly took root as an art. When, centuries later in the 17th century, the Tokugawa shoguns established official Go schools and titles, they were building on foundations laid in the Heian court (indeed, Tokugawa scholars revered legends of ancient Go sages like Kanren). Many uniquely Japanese Go customs – such as ceremonial match gifts and the poetic view of the game – trace back to the Heian era. Even modern Go idioms in Japanese often have classical origins, a reminder of how long Go has enriched the language.

It is no wonder that in popular culture, the spirit of a Heian Go master makes for a compelling character: the Heian period truly was “The Age of Sai.” While Fujiwara-no-Sai of Hikaru no Go may be a fanciful ghost, he represents the very real passion for Go that burned brightly in the bygone candlelight of the Heian court. The real Go players of that age – emperors, monks, court ladies – have long passed on, but through the stories and records they left, their games live on in spirit. The clack of stone on wood that Sei Shōnagon found so musical can still be heard today in Go salons worldwide, and every time we speak of hand-talk or “living” stones, we unconsciously pay homage to the cultural heritage of Heian Japan. The Heian period gave Go a lasting home in Japan, turning an imported pastime into a native art. In doing so, it set the stage for all the triumphs, tragedies, and transcendent beauty that would later unfold on the 19×19 grid. The Age of Sai may have been long ago, but its influence resonates in every thoughtful move played on a Go board to this day.

Sources:

• John T. K. Chuang, Go in the Nara and Heian Periods – Go Magic historical overview (2023).
• Kaleidoscope of Books: Japanese Go – a board game of white and black stones, National Diet Library of Japan (2021). Chapter 1 “Go in Literary Works: From Ancient to Middle Ages”.
• Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji, c. 1008. (Multiple scenes featuring Go; see NDL commentary).
• Sei Shōnagon, The Pillow Book, c. 1002. (Notable passages on playing Go, translated in Ivan Morris, The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon). NDL excerpts.
• Konjaku Monogatarishū, late 11th c., scroll 24: “The Go master Kanren” (tales of Kanren’s Golden Pillow and spectral opponent).
• Yamato Monogatari, 10th c., story 156 (on Kanren’s background and title of Gosei).
• Imperial Chronicles: Shoku Nihon Kōki (compiled 869) for the 839 Go match; Nihon Sandai Jitsuroku (compiled 901) for the 874 shudan gambling reference.
• Seiichi Morinaga, “Go in the Heian Court: Games, Gambits and Gifts,” Journal of Asian Studies 54.2 (2019): (analysis of Go as an aristocratic pastime with monetary stakes).
• Shigeno Yasutsugu (ed.), Kokin Wakashū (905), poem by Ki no Tomonori alluding to the ranka legend.
• Shōsōin Monjo – Nara Shōsōin Repository documents and object catalog (for Emperor Shōmu’s Go board and stones).
• Mori Masataka, “Recreation in Heian Japan,” in Heian Court Culture (Tokyo University Press, 2005) – discusses Go, kemari, and other games at court.
• Kuroki Goishiten, “History of Go – Heian to Edo” (blog). (Describes Heian references in Genji and Pillow Book, and continuation of Go culture).
• Hikaru no Go (Hotta/Yumi, 1998–2003) – although fictional, inspired the title and contains a fictional Heian Go master (Sai), reflecting modern interest in Heian Go.