Lest anybody think we have been completely idle on our Japanese holiday, let me assure you that we have not lacked for educational experiences. One such – and by far the best – was a lesson on samurai swordsmanship.
The stuff we learned was an introduction to stage-fighting as opposed to the sort of fighting where you try to actually chop up the opponent. Before unleashing a blow, you are supposed to utter a warning cry each time, so that your sparring partner knows to get out of the way. You bounce the blows instead of following them through for impact. That sort of thing.
Our instructor had choreographed the fights on Kill Bill Vol 1, and runs a sword-fighter acting troupe. He has a slight stature and a gentle manner, yet you wouldn’t even dream of doing anything to displease him. You instantly know that you’re in the presence of a master of his craft. Oh, how my submissive little heart was longing for a proper lesson, instead of the tourist-friendly version with its inherent not entirely deserved praise!
There was an assistant instructor, a young man who had an impressive way with his sword, and a deliciously subservient manner towards the master. I mentally cast him as my brother apprentice in a demanding training programme: somebody who would go out of his way to protect me from the master’s wrath, and yet gently nudge me forward with my learning.
The wooden swords being inspiring fantasy fodder, I also imagined myself learning to use the cane from a renouned disciplinarian. “This is the stroke you use. Flick the wrist, you’re not chopping wood. Good. Now aim for this stripe on the cushion; a hundred repetitions, please… Good. Now the back-hand.”
Sigh – that is very hot. Mmmm strict martial arts Masters are very hot – though sadly the ones I’ve met have been more keen on press-ups than whacking students!
Omygosh, super hot, and sign me up as a fellow pupil. I hope you are reading or have read the Lian Hearn series I told you about before, Tales of the Otori (Across the Nightingale Floor=book 1), not least because you are there in Japan and can visit an actual Nightingale floor (or perhaps have?). xo
Haven’t got my hands on the Hearn books yet, but we did find a Nightingale floor in Nijo castle in Kyoto. I had a lot of fun trying to walk across it without it squeaking, obviously, failing comprehensively. There may have been some fantasies floating around about being a Shogun’s daughter and trying to sneak out at night, being betrayed by the singing floor…