Kenjutsu Shiai

Tonight was a special night at the dojo.

After class was the shiai.

A contest of sorts where one could explore some of the practice forms in kenjutsu with a little less restraint using padded gear and shinai- specially padded training swords.

The class would be divided into four teams, with two teams taking the floor at a time to go against each other. While there was no formal scoring system or who won or lost officially, we all of course kept track.

This was after class, as in one still had to navigate class itself and for those who had participated a few times in the shai and knew how intense it was it was important to save a bit of energy for after, not to fully exhaust in class.

That’s not to say drop any focus or hold back in class, but just be aware that an intensity was building and what was going to follow.

The senior students in class, the black belts all paced themselves and went a little bit slower. It was the junior students who you watched, noticing who went fast and full speed in class, and who perhaps knew what was to come.

After class the mats were pulled up and placed against both the wall with the windows and against the wall with the kamiza. Respectfully the hanging shodo scroll and artwork was taken down and put in the office for safe keeping.

From the storage closet a team of black belt brought out the bogu and shinai and began to hand them out in silence as the teacher announced the four team leaders for the night, picked according to his own logic. 

Roppo…

Tonight I was a team leader and had first choice to pick who would stand with me in the contest.

Everybody but the teacher was surprised when I picked him.

I couldn’t see any facial expressions behind the helmets and headgear, it was the body language and posture that conveyed the surprise.

For my next pick I picked who presented as the logical choice, the visible choice on the pool available. Who was best with the sword? Who was training longest? Who was up for the next belt test in a few weeks and had something to prove?

When I picked the others they came right over but were clearly disappointing on being a part of the weaker team based on my first pick.

The shiai started with the teacher calling out your name and another opposing name, both of you coming out and exchanging cuts. You would do this within the framework of what was correct and acceptable until the teacher called out your name again to return back to your group.

It was here that we were standing on the threshold of a moment, a test to see if one could hold the capacity in that time.

At any moment your name could be called.

Could you stand there both ready and relaxed?

Could you exist in a balanced state of awareness and detachment?

Could you enjoy the excitement and anticipation of that moment without thinking about what you thought was coming next.

Gradually this would build to the point where the teacher called out a series of names quickly, five, ten, fifteen, and twenty of us out on the dojo floor at once.

It was here in the group that my role changed.

With all of us, or at least most of us, on the floor I was responsible for keeping the other safe. There was not time to give any commands or call out even if they could be heard through the headgear and the sounds of movement, so that left only the sword.

Using the sword and the body to position others away from the students on my team, putting myself out-there first.

I spend most of my time trying to guard him, or at least drive off the students of higher skill and level, but even in doing that he took hit after hit.

There was no score, but we were all keeping score.

It was only with a few minutes to go when it happened.

I cut shomen with my sword and it was deflected away and out of my hand spinning across the dojo floor.

Seeing this, immediately two others were on-top of me about to cut- the rules of the shiai are clear.

Those out on the floor can attack if they hold a sword, if you don’t have a sword you can’t attack.

I couldn’t attack, which only left sabaki gata- the ability to evade and not get hit.

Against one I could do this no problem especailly if they were committee to trying to hit me. Against two maybe, or at least for a few cuts, but now three, and four no way.

Roppo…

He tossed me his sword.

After the shiai ended and the dojo was closing down for evening, when most of the students had already left and the few remaining were busy talking among themselves the teacher came over to talk to me.

He asked me why I picked him first.

In the tradition and thought process of the dojo a reply to a question like this should be simple and direct.

The briefer the better.

One word was best.

I wanted to say I picked him because if I needed somebody to stand with me and not run, to stand and commit it would be him.

Yes, he was not the most skilled.

Yes, he was in his current rank for a long time.

Yes, he still had many openings in his sword postures.

But, he was also at every class at the dojo.

He also trained at the park practicing his sword cuts.

He was committed to budo as a path.

His path.

Why did I pick him?

I was able to give my teacher one word.

Mushashin.

(warrior’s heart)