The Stone-Cold Master Who Hates What He Loves

In August 1962, a six-year-old Korean boy named Cho Chikun boarded a ship in Busan bound for Japan. His parents stayed behind. His destination: the Kitani Minoru Dojo in Tokyo, the most prestigious Go academy in the world.

This wasn't unusual cruelty. It was the only path to greatness. Japan was the undisputed center of the Go universe, and Cho's family had deep connections to the game. His uncle, Cho Namchul, had founded the Korean Baduk Association. Cho's grandfather, who first taught him the game, recognized something unnatural in the boy's pattern recognition.

At the Kitani Dojo, Cho was the "baby" among future legends like Ishida Yoshio, Kato Masao, and Takemiya Masaki. He was often teased, but universally recognized as a prodigy. In May 1968, at 11 years and 9 months, he passed the professional examination—the youngest in Japanese history at the time.

That separation from his parents at six would shape everything that followed: a solitary intensity, a man who belonged fully to neither Korea nor Japan, and a relationship with Go that would become something closer to compulsion than joy.

Japanese professional Go has three titles that tower above the rest: Kisei, Meijin, and Honinbo. Holding all three simultaneously—the "Dai-Sankan" or Great Top Three—was considered the ultimate achievement. No one had ever done it in the modern era.

In 1983, Cho Chikun won the Kisei title, completing the trinity. He was 26 years old.

But Cho wasn't done. By 1994, he had won every single one of Japan's Top 7 major titles at least once: Kisei (8), Meijin (9), Honinbo (12), Judan (6), Oza (3), Tengen (2), and Gosei (2). This "Super Grand Slam" was unprecedented. Iyama Yuta would later match the feat, but Cho was the pioneer.

His total: 76 titles, the most in Japanese history. Over 1,600 career wins—the first player to reach 1,500. These aren't numbers; they're geological strata. They represent decades of dominance across an era of fierce competition.

The Honinbo title is the oldest and most prestigious in Japanese Go, dating to 1941 in its modern form and to 1612 as a house of Go. Defending it requires winning a best-of-seven match each year against the challenger who has survived an elimination tournament of Japan's best players.

Cho Chikun defended the Honinbo for ten consecutive years, from 1989 to 1998.

The mental stamina required is almost incomprehensible. Each Honinbo match is a two-day affair with hours of play, followed by sealed moves overnight, followed by more hours. Losing a single series means losing the title. Cho did this ten times in a row, often coming back from 1-3 deficits to win 4-3.

His most famous rivalry was with Kobayashi Koichi, who challenged him three consecutive years (1990-1992). Cho repelled him every time. Their head-to-head record: 66-63 in Cho's favor across 129 games, with Cho winning 8 of their 10 major title matches.

For this dominance, Cho earned the honorary title "25th Honinbo Chikun"—his name inscribed permanently in the lineage of the game's most venerable institution.

When asked why he plays, Cho Chikun once replied: "I hate Go." He described the physical and mental anguish of a two-day title match as "hell." The tension, the exhaustion, the weight of concentration—he found it genuinely unpleasant. But he admitted he knows nothing else and is compelled to play by his nature.

This is not false modesty. It's a window into a mind wired for obsession.

Cho's playing style matches his psychology. He is the master of shinogi—the art of making a weak, surrounded group survive. His approach: take territory greedily in the opening (corners and sides), then invade the opponent's sphere of influence deeply. He invites attacks, allowing opponents to build massive walls, confident he can navigate the life-and-death complexities to save his stones.

This psychological pressure broke opponents. If you couldn't kill Cho's invading group, you lost. But to kill it, you had to fight in exactly the kind of close-quarters, life-and-death reading where Cho was the world's greatest.

His on-board mannerisms became legendary: hair messing, audible grumbling, self-scolding, copious tea consumption, and occasionally slapping his own cheeks to stay alert. He was not at peace. But he was in his element.

In January 1986, just before Cho was to defend his Kisei title against Kobayashi Koichi, he was in a severe car accident. He suffered a broken right leg, a broken left arm, and head injuries. Doctors forbade him to play.

Cho's response: "If I don't play, I'm not alive."

He played the entire title match in a wheelchair, his arm in a cast, placing stones with difficulty. He lost the first game. Then he rallied to win the series 4-2.

This was not theatrical bravado. It was compulsion. The same force that made him hate the game also made it impossible to walk away. He had been playing Go since before he could form lasting memories. There was no version of Cho Chikun that didn't play.

The "Wheelchair Kisei" became his defining legend—the moment that crystallized what everyone already sensed: this was a man for whom Go wasn't a choice.

In 2016, AlphaGo defeated Lee Sedol 4-1, ending human supremacy in Go. The AI era had arrived. Many predicted veterans would be demoralized.

Cho Chikun beat the AI.

That same year, he played a match against DeepZenGo, Japan's answer to AlphaGo. Result: Cho won 2-1. He noted the AI was "very strong but bad at reading life and death in complex spots"—exactly the kind of shinogi fighting where Cho had spent 50 years becoming superhuman.

AI would soon surpass all humans entirely. But for one moment, the old master's style—territorial greed, deep invasions, survival in impossible positions—proved prescient. Modern AI analysis has validated Cho's approach: the machines often favor early territory and confident invasions, exactly what Cho pioneered when it was considered "greedy" by traditional standards.

Now 69, Cho continues to play. He dominates the "Legend" senior tournaments, winning the Teikei Legend Cup in 2023 and reaching the final in 2025. He still competes in preliminary rounds of major open tournaments, occasionally knocking out young rising stars. His Encyclopedia of Life & Death remains a training bible for insei (apprentices) worldwide.

Cho is claimed by both Korea and Japan. In Korea, he's the prodigy who conquered the "enemy's land," inspiring Lee Changho and the next generation. In Japan, he's the bedrock of modern Go, the man who held the fort during the golden age. He belongs fully to neither, and completely to both.

In the words of a commentator: "The Last Samurai of the classic era—a player who sees Go not just as a game, but as a struggle for existence itself."