Vince had long felt that there was no coincidence that the martial arts and the marital arts were anagrams and he felt many races from the Romans right through to the Maoris had picked up on the link between love and war. When he had made this point to Osamu, the other man had taken him to Yokohama Budokan to illustrate the differences. Vince was actually thankful that he hadn't been taken into Osamu and Nozomi's bedroom and given a demonstration there as well.
Only three martial arts were playing that day at the Budokan and Osamu frowned at the lacklustre competition.
"It's usually much better," he claimed, more for his own benefit than Vince's
Vince had actually taken judo for four years in high school rising to the rank of ni-kyu or blue belt and, even knowing the rules of competition, judo bouts always looked very messy to him. The Kyudo was slow moving and no one seemed to even be trying to hit the target. And the Kendo, always seemed aggressive, the clash of bamboo, the cries of the attacker, the breast plate and head dress, the garb of a true warrior. Vince realised that he would have no idea whether this was world standard competition or lacklustre as Osamu had suggested.
When Vince thought of martial arts, he thought of precision and speed. It was therefore not surprising that he was disappointed with Kyudo, Japan's traditional archery. Kyudo is to lightning speed what the tea ceremony is to fast food, what the Noh drama is to the spaghetti western. Vince wondered what these archers would have done if there had been a surprise attack. Maybe, indeed, it was illegal to make a surprise attack in Japan.
Vince first saw Kyudo at the Kanagawa Kyudo Club which was run by Kurihara-sensei in Asahi Ward. Watching Kurihara-sensei shoot arrows was akin to watching a Noh play in itself. He opened his cape bearing one shoulder and breast, assisted in the process by two women. The sensei put two arrows parallel across his bow but pointing in opposite directions. He stood with the bow parallel to his body, his arms outstretched, then rested it diagonally on his lower thigh. Kurihara-sensei then looked at the target, pushed the bow away from his body, raised it high in the air and brought it close to his cheek. The universe paused for breath and then the string released and zit. The arrow struck the target and was quickly retrieved by one of the women who were huddling behind a bamboo fence while the arrows are being fired. A second arrow was fired and then the opening ceremony was reenacted in reverse. The arrow was returned and replaced in the quiver while the master closed his cape.
The whole process had taken about ten minutes and to increase the excitement, the next round included three people in a row at the same time, each in a different time-frame of the arrow-firing sequence. Vince noted that most of the archers missed the target, but he had been assured that the ritual of shooting the arrow was in itself far more important than striking the target. He noticed that one of the Jesshin Kyudo Dojo's mottoes declared war on two main enemies, an idle mind and a proud mind.
Vince suspected that he attempted in vain to imitate the master and shoot his first arrow. He was told that this was a rare treat as normally people who'd never indulged in Kyudo before were not permitted to shoot any arrows at all until they had been practising for at least six months. If it had taken Kurihara-sensei ten minutes to get that first arrow away, then it took Vince over half and hour. He kept making mistakes, holding the arrow or the bow in the wrong way or not positioning it right. He was all thumbs when he took aim and came close to shooting off his own finger at one stage.
He was all ready to launch his first missile when it rolled off his tensed fist and onto the ground. The second arrow fired all right and soared high over the safety net and into a grove of peach and plum blossoms. The women who had seemed rather blasé, about collecting the arrows huddled behind their bamboo fence and didn't appear again for another fifteen minutes.
Vince's short-lived Kyudo career had all the success of the early stages of the American space programme. Afraid of sending another arrow into the peach and plum orchard, the next three arrows hit the dirt not ten feet from Vince himself. Finally, the seventh arrow zinged straight and true into the bull's eye.
There was a moment of unbelieving astonishment on Vince's face and then he turned to face the master. But Kurihara-sensei hadn't seemed to notice where the arrow had gone and was busy lecturing Vince on how he was holding his body. Vince sighed and realised that he would never be a disciple of Zen and that he had best quit while he was ahead. For him, that target would always be the most important thing and he'd stand on his head while shooting if it stood a better chance of hitting the bull eye.
If the Kyudo Vince had witnessed was practised largely by senior citizens, he was to visit a Kendo class for boys and a single girl at the local Saedo Primary School. He had often watched as the children had walked to school along given routes as was the way with Japanese state schools. The trip was a series of rivulet junctions at which children were continually meeting with each other.
The school itself seemed very well fitted out and Vince was surprised to see an excellent gymnasium. There were two teachers, Mr. Otake, an energetic and dynamic personality who was quite obviously the master. And Mr. Sasaki, a taller and older man whose entire demeanour suggested kindness and patience.
Vince had hated judo when he was a youngster and he wondered how many of the younger kids felt exactly the same about Kendo. They were divided into two age-groups and the girl was quite obviously the best of the younger kids. In fact, she was a bit of a bully. Some of the other littlies seemed to be in a day dream of the sort in which Vince had spent most of his childhood.
What Kyudo encouraged in sheer patience, Kendo made up for in quick relexes and lightning speed. One of the older children barked commands and each member of the group counted off, forward and backwards. Then, they were running around the hall, counting all the way their swords in their hands, thrashing the sword through the air, attacking the masters, turning to cover their rear, and finally, the younger group had their chance to attack the older kids.
Mothers gossiped in the corner where Vince was standing. The older students tied up their heads in cloths, donned their breast plates and tied the strings on their helmets. They indeed looked like warriors, far more menacing than fencers. Vince had spent a summer learning how to handle a foil and he had to admit that the clash of bamboo was more exhilirating than that of the thrust and lunge of the equivalent sport in the west. The latter had nothing if not the sound of cutlery being placed on a table.
In competition, kendo fencers aimed for the helmet (men), the breastplate (do) or the glove (kote) all three of which would incapacitate an opponent, but here there was no point scoring. The emphasis was on discipline and correct technique. Maybe, it wasn't so far removed from Kyudo after all.
Mr. Otake turned out to be a good teacher. He praised students for what they were doing right as well as telling them what they were doing wrong. Vince was well aware that no lesson was free, even for an innocent by-stander. Mr. Otake presented him with a bamboo shinnai sword in front of the class and then, in a few minutes, he attempted to teach him some of the basic exercises of kendo. He tapped Vince on the stomach with his newly acquired sword and told him:
"Three months with this particular exercise and you'll lose that beer belly."
Alas, Vince was no kendo natural and faced an old age problem that he couldn't coordinate what he had to do with his hands with the appropriate foot action. Vince supposed that he would have his beer belly for a long time yet. Connie only tried the exercise once and got it right first time, naturally. Better by far with the martial arts, she also soundly trounced him every time with the marital arts as well.