Masataka SugimotoChoose better, not best: The pride of a shogi master

Part 2: Memorable first encounter with shogi prodigy Sōta Fujii

Masataka Sugimoto, now an 8th dan shogi master, has experienced many setbacks and challenges over the course of his career. He says his love of shogi was the driving force that motivated him to overcome these difficulties; a feeling that is probably familiar to readers with a love for manufacturing.

── You said that seeing yourself objectively is vital to read ahead. Could you explain why?

“Reading ahead” in shogi means predicting what moves your opponent is going to make and considering the best way to respond. If you just play out your ideal scenario, reading the game in your own favour, that will never work. Instead, you need to think about: “If I make this move, then my opponent will probably do this.”

Predicting your opponent’s moves is crucial in shogi – in other words, understanding what your opponent is feeling. But it is actually very difficult to understand how someone else feels, and I think the same can be said for the world outside shogi. That’s why it is so important to take an overview and think about how your opponent sees you, or how you appear to them.

For example, in shogi research, sometimes we turn the board around 180 degrees to look at it from the opponent’s perspective. This often helps to reveal the opponent’s feelings that you could not see when you were facing each other. I think the same is true in a corporate setting. Looking at yourself objectively from the other person’s perspective and taking an overview of how you appear to them: this could help in building a better organization.

── In an organization, there are hierarchical relationships between senior and junior positions. You started mentoring apprentices in your early thirties – an unusually young age for a shogi master. What was your mindset at that time?

I come from the Tokai region of Aichi prefecture, which did not historically produce many professional players despite the huge popularity of shogi there. I was the only professional tournament player for a long time.

One day an acquaintance asked me if I would mentor a kid who wanted to be an apprentice. I was only in my thirties, and I was still working on my own game. In those days, I had the idea that people only became mentors after retiring from the professional game, so I was honestly quite reluctant. I didn’t think it was something that players in their twenties or thirties would do if they were aiming for the top of the game. At the time, I think I was the youngest active shogi player to take on an apprentice.

── You were closer in age to your apprentices than is usual in the world of shogi. Did that pose any difficulties?

When I first took on an apprentice, I decided I would like to have more of a senior and junior relationship, rather than a strict master and pupil relationship. I wanted to be like an older brother figure that they could easily talk to about shogi. Because I approached it in that way, I don’t remember any difficulties, on my part at least.

But the feeling that I couldn’t help worrying about my apprentice’s results – that was something new to me when I started out as a mentor, because I had never taken an interest in whether other people won or lost before then. It felt strange to me to be so emotionally invested in the results of someone I cared about.

── About ten years after becoming a mentor, you met a little boy called Sōta Fujii. What was your first impression of him?

As soon as I heard Fujii speak, I knew he would be a top shogi player one day. He was only seven years old at the time and was talking to an opponent three or four years older. He said: “In this situation, if I don’t move my pawn here, I won’t win.”

Rather than saying “I wanted to move this piece” he was saying “unless I do this, I won’t win.” You cannot talk like that without having the ability to read ahead and predict how the game will unfold. I thought a first grader could not possibly have such insight, but when I looked at the board, I saw that he was right. He still had a lot to learn, and his moves were unsophisticated, but I could tell he had enormous potential.

Just like that, he would come up with brilliant moves that a professional player would never have thought of. As a professional myself, I had seen top players like Yoshihabu Haru, and I knew this young boy had a talent on par with them. That was the moment I realized that natural talent really does exist.

Shogi master Sugimoto presents a bouquet to 7-crown title holder Sōta Fujii at the title ceremony (2023)
Photo: Japan Shogi Association

── What did you keep in mind as a mentor in order to develop such an exceptional talent?

I knew it was not necessary to step in and help such a talented student – in fact, it would not do to interfere too much. A child like Fujii did not need much in the way of advice. I only had to give a small hint, and he would understand and put it into practice straight away; I did not need to tell him any answers.

The one thing I was aware of was his relationship with other apprentices. I knew that my main role as his mentor was to help him develop his exceptional talent in a stress-free way.