They sat across the board, 361 points in a 19 by 19 grid, poetically said to represent North, South, East, West, Heaven and another place. A bowl at his side containing stones as black as the infinite expanse between stars, another beside his opponent full of stones the off-white of sun bleached bone.

The master sat silently, gazing at the possibilities of the empty board. He didn’t know how long he had been meditating on the first move, but assumed his opponent wouldn’t mind. The game would take as long as it took, after all. Tengen, the central point which could represent Heaven, seemed an appropriate place to start, but it meant an aggressive game and was perhaps disrespectful towards his opponent. The corner then, 4,4. An open position to test his opponent, and divine the best response. Variously known as the star or the flower, it was a move that could lead in many directions. Mere seconds later though his eyes widened in surprise as his opponent immediately approached his corner. This was not the normal way to play.

The master took a second corner with 3,4. A balanced move more difficult for white to approach in harmony with his first move. Again though, white aggressively approached. A third corner, approach, the fourth, again.

As the game progressed like none before it the master felt the years of experience roll off. He remembered his first game against his teacher, who’d seemed to see every variation and weakness in his position before the stones were even in place. His knees, though he was safely seated, felt too full of nerves to support his weight, but his brain was a firework show of options and variations as he struggled to marshal his forces into a coherent whole over the board. Every group seemed to be under attack at once, every weakness of shape exposed. He had beaten overly aggressive players a thousand times before in a thousand different ways, knew how to hold his own and wait patiently for aggression to overextend their positions… but that point never came. He was widely known for making of moves with two, three or more purposes, of having a talent for turning defence into attack… and yet the opportunities were rare and far between, and even those he forced to occur were skilfully turned aside. It was said that the record of a game could show you a man’s thoughts and soul, but looking at the board all he could see was flowing power.

Still, he thought, he was not some pup to be brushed aside without effort, no matter who his opponent. He narrowed his eyes slightly and went to war across the board with fire in his belly, even as he tried to stay calm and out-calculate his opponent.

The stones clicked back and forth across the board, the sharp sounds loud, but quickly vanishing into the silence.

Finally though, his opponent spoke.

“You have lost.”
“Inevitably.”
“Then why play?”
“For my last chance to play the perfect game.”
“And was it?”
“No, of course not. This should have been here,” He gestured at a move that had left potential the white stones exploited later. “And given the result this area seems more urgent than the move I chose. Still…” He trailed off, and a small smile found his lips. “Not everybody can say that all their groups found life when faced with Death.”

The master paused, and sighed slightly.
“I thought you would play differently – that you would be the patient inevitable. Not this battle of technique and power.” His opponent smiled for the first time.
“The experience is different for everybody. For some I was as you have said. For you, the battle seemed appropriate. However…”Another pause.
“… It is time.”