Actually, according to the current serialization pace of Hikaru no Go, once the Professional Go Player Promotion Tournament concluded, the story would immediately transition into the decisive match between Sai and Toya Koyo.
And after that, Sai's disappearance.
Rei was fully aware of this.
In fact, he had already been asking Rika to help him search through historical Go records, looking for a game that could genuinely be called "The Hand of God," so that it could be adapted and woven into Hikaru no Go.
But…
It could only be said that while Japan's Go history contained countless brilliant moves, stunning tesujis, and ingenious endgame reversals, a match that truly embodied something on the level of The Hand of God, as portrayed in the manga…
Had simply never existed.
Of course, Rei could forcibly adapt some famous historical games.
But if he did that, then the "Hand of God" that shocked Sai to his very soul, the move that marked the end of his thousand-year pursuit and led to his disappearance, would likely feel underwhelming to professional Go players.
Many would inevitably scoff.
"This counts as The Hand of God?"
Rika's inability to find a suitable match did not surprise Rei in the slightest.
After all, Japan's overall Go environment was weaker than that of Japan in his previous life.
In that world, especially after the advent of the AI era, Go had undergone explosive evolution.
The competitive intensity in this Japan simply wasn't on the same level, and naturally, the peak of its Go records fell short.
As for what game could truly serve as The Hand of God, Rei was not completely without ideas.
In his previous life, there were two world-shaking human-versus-AI Go matches:
Lee Sedol vs AlphaGo
Jie vs AlphaGo
Among them, only Lee Sedol managed to win a single game, the legendary fourth match.
After losing three consecutive games and already being declared defeated in the man-versus-machine showdown, Lee Sedol abandoned all obsession with victory or defeat.
And in that moment, he played a move that even AlphaGo had not foreseen.
A move that reversed the game.
The only victory humanity ever claimed against early AlphaGo.
That move was praised by countless professional players and Go enthusiasts as a real-world Hand of God.
That game was etched deeply into Rei's memory.
After all, anything he had seen in his previous life could be replayed in his mind as vividly as a film. Hikaru no Go itself had been brought into this world in precisely that way.
However, if possible, Rei still didn't want to resort to this option.
Because if he used that match as the battle between Sai and Toya Koyo, several problems followed:
He would need to: Extract Lee Sedol's famous 78th move before it was played, Find two top-tier Go players to reconstruct the board position,
And have them complete the remainder of the game faithfully.
Moreover, Rei's own Go skill was limited. Explaining how he obtained such an inexplicable game record would be troublesome.
But those concerns were ultimately secondary.
No matter how suspicious professional Go players might be, they could never imagine the truth:
That this was the only victory a fourteen-time world champion had ever achieved against an AI from another world.
Sai's millennium-long obsession had always been about one thing;
The Hand of God.
And after the AI era, even calling AlphaGo a Go God would not be an exaggeration. Every move it played was, in a sense, divine.
If this game were serialized in the manga, even strictest professional players would be unable to find fault with it.
And Sai reaching the end of the Way of Go, then disappearing after witnessing such a move, would feel completely natural.
As for where the game record came from…
Rei took a deep breath, then smiled faintly.
If anyone asked, he could simply say: "Sai taught me this game."
It was a joke.
But not entirely a joke.
People would probably assume it was a private match played by some forgotten master. No one would ever have the imagination to guess the real source.
On Wednesday, the latest issue of Dream Comic was released.
Along with it, Chapter 40 of Hikaru no Go was officially serialized.
Early that morning, Aoyama Sayuri was already waiting outside the bookstore.
Naturally, she didn't care in the slightest about Hikaru no Go's explosive rise in popularity due to the TV drama.
What she cared about was how the match between Hikaru and Isumi, which ended last week in Hikaru no Go, would conclude.
Would Hikaru pretend not to see Isumi's regretful move?
Or would Hikaru, in order to win, refuse to let Isumi off, reporting the foul and taking the victory?
Honestly, if she were Hikaru, she would definitely report Isumi.
But unfortunately, she was just a spectator.
She hoped that Hikaru would ignore Isumi's muddled mistake, allow him to retract the move, and then defeat him fair and square.
Likewise, many Hikaru no Go fans shared Sayuri's thoughts.
You could say that Hikaru no Go had a slow pace and an unclear main plot.
But the cliffhangers in every chapter were absolutely top-tier, so suffocating that fans felt like killing someone every single week.
After chatting briefly with others who were buying Dream Comic and Hikaru no Go tankōbon while lining up at the register, Sayuri took the magazine back to her company.
After all, she was the boss of this small firm.
And as a boss, going out during work hours to buy manga, and then reading it during work hours, was perfectly reasonable.
Chapter Forty of Hikaru no Go continued directly from last week's plot.
Isumi felt a chill crawl down his spine when he realized that his unconscious movement, made out of impatience, had constituted a foul.
Hikaru, too, stared blankly at his opponent, his heart locked in turmoil.
"Sai… you saw it, didn't you?" Hikaru asked silently.
"Before Isumi moved the stone just now, his finger left the piece, right?"
"I'm not sure," Sai replied solemnly. "Do you want to ask him, Hikaru?"
"Isumi's record against me has always been terrible. Whoever loses this game might not get promoted. Even someone as strong as him has failed year after year…" Hikaru struggled inwardly.
"Hikaru," Sai said firmly, "don't you want to continue? Even from a disadvantage, there's still a way to turn this around!"
Hikaru picked up a stone.
Sayuri held her breath.
This move would decide everything.
If Hikaru placed the stone, it meant letting Isumi off and moving past the foul.
How would he choose?
"I know Isumi's strength better than anyone. Playing from this position, I'll probably lose. But if he fouled just now, then I win."
Hikaru's thoughts spiraled.
Sayuri's heart twisted along with his.
Reporting the foul would be entirely justified.
Against anyone else, not doing so would make readers call Hikaru a saint.
But this was Isumi.
Isumi was already old, this year and the next were his last chances. If he failed again, he would never become a professional Go player.
Hikaru, on the other hand, was only thirteen or fourteen. With Sai guiding him, was there any doubt he'd make it eventually?
At most, it was just a difference of one year.
And without Isumi, Hikaru would've been eliminated long ago.
When the bearded examinee shattered Hikaru's mentality, it was Isumi who stayed by his side, dragging him to Go clubs, forcing him to face every kind of opponent, helping him rebuild his mindset.
This game could decide Isumi's entire life.
Did Hikaru really want to win like this?
"Sai… I want one more win," Hikaru thought desperately.
"And Isumi hasn't said anything. That means he wants to keep fighting too."
Just as Hikaru was about to speak;
Sayuri turned the page.
A massive black-and-white spread filled her vision: an upward angle showing Isumi, Hikaru, and the edge of the Go board.
Hikaru: "I..."
Isumi: "I resign."
Hikaru did not seize the opportunity.
And Isumi, after his own internal struggle, chose not to continue a match tainted by humiliation.
Both of them went through endless internal struggles during that brief moment.
But in the end, they both chose to abide by the rules.
Sayuri's eyes reddened.
She looked at Isumi in the manga, his head lowered, lips bitten tight, silently putting away the stones.
She looked at Hikaru, who had technically won the game, yet looked even worse than if he had lost.
Her heart was filled with tangled, conflicting emotions.
Even if Hikaru hadn't spoken, Isumi would probably have resigned anyway, driven by his pride.
But precisely at the moment Isumi opened his mouth to resign, Hikaru had also spoken, ready to hold Isumi accountable for the foul.
That made the choice even more painful for Hikaru.
People often overestimate themselves during ordinary times.
Only when their direct interests are on the line do they truly understand what choice their heart will make.
For Isumi, the reason he hadn't resigned immediately was also because of a faint sliver of hope, maybe Hikaru hadn't seen it clearly.
But Hikaru's prolonged hesitation, his delay in placing the stone, caused Isumi's pride to finally overwhelm that last bit of wishful thinking.
And for Hikaru, winning the game mattered more than his personal friendship with Isumi.
Neither of them was wrong.
The one at fault was Shirogane.
Why would you make two people this close meet in such a decisive, life-altering match?
Sayuri continued reading.