Warnings: None
Lucky Child
Chapter 13:
"Stare Down Death"
The first time I asked to take karate, I was seven years old.
Yusuke had just started getting into fights. I came home with a skinned knee and a story about Yusuke challenging some older kids, and to my mother's horror I asked if I could take fighting lessons. To protect Yusuke, of course. Not because I wanted to get into trouble. My goals were both noble and maternal. Mother was sure to see the utility of my desire, I was certain.
Instead she'd screeched, pulled me into a hug, and gave me a resounding 'no.'
Drat. Not to be deterred, I asked again. And again. And again, until I was eight and approached my mother with a split lip. That time Yusuke had challenged a trio of ten-year-olds to fisticuffs. I'm pretty sure he would've lost every last tooth in his head had I not stepped in.
Of course, by 'stepping in' I just meant I got in the middle of it, and the older boys were too chicken to hit a girl (once they realized that's what I was). They grumbled something about annoying brats and left Yusuke alone…for the time being. Something told me they'd be back.
That time my mother didn't immediately screech at me to stop being so reckless. She hesitated, eyed my lip, and said she'd think about it.
She came back three days later with an offer: aikido lessons, twice a week, with her blessing.
Trying not to look gleeful, I said yes.
That glee disappeared when I learned the truth.
The truth was that I knew absolutely noting about martial arts, and I really should've pushed for karate before saying 'yes.'
Sensei Obuchi was a kindly man who wore glasses. He had thick black hair, and on my first day he held my hand and walked me into a practice room filled with other kids my size. I think he thought I'd be nervous without my mother, whom he instructed to wait in the lobby, but he was wrong. I practically led him into the room, eager as I was. He chuckled at my enthusiasm and strode to the front of the hall.
"This is Keiko-chan," he told everyone. "She'll be the last to join us. Everyone give her a big hello!"
The other kids, about 20 total, chorused a chipper greeting. I barely heard them. Staffs and fans dotted the austere walls; practice mats and padding sat in neat piles in the corners. My eyes lingered on the staffs. Fighting with those would be so cool. I thought this would just be hand-to-hand martial arts, but if we were going to cover weapons—
Some junior senseis came over, then, and had me sit with the other kids in a knot. Obuchi-sensei took a stance before us, hands clasped behind his back, and began to speak.
"Welcome to your first aikido lesson!" he said. "How many of you have taken aikido before?"
No hands went up. Looking around, I realized I was one of only three girls. The rest were boys, who lounged on the floor in varying states of disinterest, enthusiasm, and visible anxiety.
"Well, that's OK!" Obuchi said. "You're here to learn the basics. You'll have a lot of fun, I promise. But first—we need to fit all of you for uniforms."
The junior instructors promptly appeared with boxes of white aikidōgi. They passed these out according to size, then helped us layer the pants and tops over our own clothes. Once we were dressed, they made us sit in a group again.
"You all look great," Obuchi told us, "but you aren't sitting like aikido students."
We were then walked through the proper way to sit—basically seiza, but with hands atop our spread knees. Remain attentive, and keep your posture erect. Easy stuff. When would we start fighting?
"Good!" said Obuchi. "Now, who knows what aikido mean?"
Again, no hands went up.
"Aikido means 'the way of harmonious spirit,'" he said. "It can also mean 'the way of combining forces.'"
I sat up a little straighter. That sounded cool. I hadn't realized the word 'aikido' had such a specific meaning. Granted, I didn't know which characters spelled the word because I hadn't seen the kanji yet, but—
"The goal of aikido is to teach you how to defend yourself by reading an opponent's movements," my sensei continued. "To practice aikido, you must blend your movements with an attacker's movements and control their actions with as little effort as possible. That's why it's called the way of combining forces."
Now that was cool. Reading moves, then controlling them with little effort? I could get behind that.
"It doesn't matter your size," he said. "It doesn't matter how tall or how small you are. If you can read your opponent, you can use these techniques to win, because you use your opponent's moves against them."
Steve Jobs once said lazy people were the best workers because they'd find the most efficient methods of completing tasks. Was aikido the martial arts version of lazy computer coding? Minimal effort sounded great because it meant even scrawny kids like me could—
"Now, what about its other name? The way of harmonious sprit?" Obuchi beamed, glasses flashing as brightly as his smile. "To practice aikido, you must find harmony with your opponents—meaning, your intent when fighting is not to hurt your opponent, but to protect them."
My rapid-fire theorizing screeched to an abrupt halt. I sat there, blinking, unsure if I'd heard him right.
…had he just said the goal was to protect your opponent?
"That's right," Obuchi said. He looked excited, for whatever-the-hell reasons. "The goal of aikido is to end conflict by redirecting your opponent and finding harmony with them, rather than striking them to cause harm." He clapped his hands, grin widening. "Isn't that great!?"
Um. No. No, it wasn't great! How the hell was I supposed to fight demons with this bullshit hippy peace and love crap?! Find harmony with your opponent—what the heck kind of good would that do me in the face of demons with ginormous teeth, I ask you?!
The other kids looked uncertain, and a few furrowed brows told me some others also weren't expecting this turn of events, either. But no one seemed as mad as I felt, so I kept my face neutral and pushed my emotions aside. Maybe they'd still show us how to kick and punch, and—
The lesson ended only a few minutes later.
We hadn't learned a damn thing.
That night over dinner, I told my mom I wanted to try a different martial art. She paused with chopsticks halfway to her mouth and quirked a brow. My father froze, ramen noodles hanging from his lips.
"And why don't you like aikido, Keiko?" Okaasan asked.
"Because it's for little kids," I said.
"Well, you're a little kid."
I bit my tongue. "It's just—they aren't going to teach us to fight."
"It's only your first lesson," came Mom's mild reply. "I'm sure they'll get there."
"But they didn't even show us a demonstration! They just told us what aikido means! They gave us a vocabulary lesson!"
"Perhaps they think you should have a concept of the art before attempting it."
"So they're just going to teach us theory, and never actually put technique into practice?!"
Mom ate a dainty bite and dabbed her lips with a napkin. Dad's eyes shifted between the two of us like he was watching a tennis match.
"It's only your first lesson, Keiko," said my mother, matter of fact. "You must give it a chance before complaining."
She looked to my father. He slurped down his noodles, choked, and gulped an entire glass of water.
"Your mother is right," he said, coughing. "Give it a chance before complaining, all right?"
And that was the end of that conversation. For the time being, anyway.
I ate the rest of my dinner in sullen silence, and when it came time for bed, I burrowed under the covers with mind racing. How could I weasel my way into a different style of martial art—one that would actually teach me useful things? This namby-pamby, wishy-washy kiddie stuff wasn't what I wanted at all! I mean, Mom had a point about giving it a chance, but a focus on my opponent's safety just wasn't useful to me. Demons wouldn't afford me such concern. Why should I give them such a privilege, I ask you?
Ugh. I really should've done more research into martial art forms before requesting I take lessons. I hadn't known jack shit about martial arts in my old life. Maybe if I'd known better, I could've vetoed aikido before Mom signed me up…
When sleep eluded me for an hour, I swung my feet out of bed and padded down the hall toward the bathroom. Along the way I heard a voice from the family room: my mother's soft tones, the kind she used when she didn't want to wake me when taking phone calls late at night. I had a very considerate mother. Even if she was making me take these stupid lessons, love for her swelled my heart.
Caught up in that affection, I almost walked past the family room without eavesdropping…but then I heard her words like a whispering wind.
I stopped cold.
"Thank you for your recommendation," she said. "Hopefully this will kill Keiko's interest like it killed your daughter's."
My mouth went very dry.
"I don't think she'll last long enough to learn anything violent. Not that they'd teach violence at this dojo. They know the parents wouldn't stand for it."
A pause. A low laugh.
"Yes, yes, Keiko is already hating it. I think she'll get tired of it and quit, soon."
Must be one of mom's friends from my school. Mother of one of my peers, I guessed.
"She was so adamant. But perhaps this is just a passing phase. I'm just glad she agreed to aikido. It's the least violent option of them all. I'd die if she got hurt." A wry giggle. "She is normally so full of questions, but I think she was too excited to dig in…"
The laughter died, then.
That's when her voice broke.
"Thank you so much for your help," she said in a quavering whisper. "I was so upset when she asked to take lessons. I was so worried she'd get hurt. She's always taking on so much more than any child her age should. And..."
I couldn't take anymore. I turned on my heel and slipped back into bed, where I curled into a ball and tried very hard not to cry. My young body cried more easily than I was accustomed to and I made it a point to never let myself break down—but in that moment, I was tempted to let the tears fall.
My mom had played me!
She knew aikido wasn't going to teach me to fight (not at this dojo, anyway), and so she signed me up for it on purpose to shut me up. Dammit, why hadn't I asked more questions? I'd let excitement get the better of me!
Too bad I wasn't going to let my mom get the better of me.
Not again, anyway.
Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice—well, you know the saying.
Mom wanted me to lose interest and quit? Well, joke was on her.
I was going to become an aikido master, no matter what my mother had to say about it.
Aikido lessons had the same format, for the most part.
We started each class with warm-up stretches and sprints, running from one side of the room to the other until we could barely stand. Then we practiced meditation until kids were falling asleep in their seats (I actually really liked meditation, unlike the others). After that we studied ukemi, where the sensei juniors would throw us to the ground to teach us to fall properly. Only after that would we do anything even remotely resembling martial arts.
We didn't fight each other. Not at first, anyway. For many lessons we did this thing that felt a lot like tai-chi, where we ran through katas—AKA, slow-motion versions of martial art moves arranged into flowing sequences, led by our sensei. Half of these katas he called 'tori', and the other half he called 'uke.'
He didn't tell us what those words meant for a long time…but I went to the library and looked it up, because I wanted to know, dammit, and this was taking way too long.
Turns out uke moves in aikido were offensive, and tori moves were defensive.
I paid extra special attention to the uke segments, as you might imagine. I practiced them at night in my room, between classes, on the playground—wherever I could squeeze in a minute to punch and kick at the empty air.
You can imagine my mother watched this from afar, and was less than thrilled by my enthusiasm.
When our sensei deemed us masters of the katas (so basically when we had them memorized) he finally let us move on to partner work. That's when we actually started to learn to fight…about four months after starting lessons.
Not that I was bitter about the speed or anything. Nope. Not me.
Ahem.
Most of the other kids had dropped out, by then. It was just me and five others. He paired us up by height and weight, then ushered us into two lines of three, each of us facing an assigned partner.
He pointed at my line. "Tori."
He pointed at the other line. "Uke."
My heart sank. I was in the tori line—the defensive line. I wanted to be on the offensive, where I could learn to hit and punch an actual opponent!
"Aikido is all about balance," Obuchi said. "Those on the tori line will use tori katas to strike those on the uke side. Those on the tori line will use corresponding tori to counter the attack."
He called up a junior, and they demonstrated which exact katas we were to practice. Once we understood what was expected of this exercise, Obuchi clapped his hands and beamed.
"Eventually we will switch lines—"
Eventually? What did that mean?!
"—but for now, children—begin!"
The moment class ended, I marched up to Obuchi and demanded to be put on the uke line. "Eventually" switching just wouldn't cut it. My practice partner hadn't wanted to hit a girl and had swung gingerly at my face, as though fearing he might make me cry or something if he broke through my defenses. Insulting, really. I put all my heart into the tori moves, but it felt more like fending off a mosquito than an attacker. Obuchi needed me to be on the uke line. I'd learn so much more there—didn't he see that?!
Obuchi listened to my pleas with an expression I can only describe as 'mollifying'. He knelt when I finished and put a hand on my shoulder. I didn't like the thought of being coddled and shrugged out from beneath his grip. He put his hand on his knee, instead, and smiled.
"We practice mediation every day, Keiko-san," he said. "You're good at it. I've noticed."
I scowled, uncomfortable with the compliment. Why was he flattering me all of a sudden?
"We practice mediation because aikido hinges upon development of the mind as well as the body. And of all my students, you have the most focused mind." He chuckled. "You are also the smallest of all my students, and by quite a margin."
My cheeks burned. "What does this have to do with uke and tori?"
"Everything."
I crossed my arms as I waited for him to elaborate. I expected him to say something to placate me. What I did not expect was a complete change of subject. He studied my face a moment before shifting the tide of conversation in a direction I did not understand.
"Keiko-san," he said. "The man who created aikido was named Morihei Ueshiba."
"I'm aware," I said.
He nodded. "Yes. I suppose you are. But do you know what he said of the tori portion of aikido?"
"I imagine he said a lot of things, sensei, since he created it."
In spite of my dry quip, his expression didn't falter. "Yes. I suppose he did. But do you know what he said about tori…and how it relates to death?"
Any cheeky response I'd intended to volley dissolved beneath the weight of his grave expression. I kept silent, cataloging the dire cast to his normally kind eyes. He looked at me with the same solemnity.
"Ueshiba said that those who practice tori must be willing to receive 99% of an opponent's attack, and stare death in the face," he told me. "In order to use tori effectively, one must be able to relax the mind and body even when under threat of death. To use tori, you must have nerves of unbreakable steel. You must be bold, to meet an attack head on and manipulate them. You must be strong, to meet the intent to kill with confidence."
His hand was on my shoulder again. I did not shrug it off.
"Do you understand, Keiko-san?" he said. "I placed only the boldest of my students on the tori line, because to use tori, you must be unfailingly bold. To be placed there is an honor, not an insult."
I stared at my toes. Obuchi chuckled. Warm fingers ruffled my hair.
"Small as you are, you won't be able to directly engage a larger opponent," he said. "Instead you must redirect, misdirect, and counter attack. Tori will teach you how. So long as you master tori, no one can hit you, and you shall remain safe. Master tori, and your small size will never hold you back."
"With your focused mind," he said, "you shall stare down death and laugh."
When I left the dojo that day, his words played in my head. They continued to play there for years.
Learn tori, and you will stare down death and laugh.
Much as I still doubted the effectiveness of aikido, Obuchi's words…well, they gave me hope.
And hope would have to be enough, for the time being.
Three years later, Yusuke lazed on my bed while digging a finger in his ear. I chucked a tissue at him and said to wipe any 'treasure' on the paper.
The little shit wiped earwax on my comforter, instead.
"Yusuke—gross!" I got up and blotted the stain with another tissue. "Seriously, you're so gross!"
"You wanna fight me about it?" he asked.
"Nah, I don't pick on the weak."
"Oh, c'mon. You know I wanna see what you've been learning in those stupid lessons of yours."
"They're not stupid, you goddamn moron!"
Yusuke was always telling me my lessons were a waste of money. I confess I'd started to grow tired of his mocking—because much as I'd learned from Obuchi's lessons, and the eventual promised switch to uke, I still wasn't good at throwing punches. I still wasn't good at attacking, outside of scripted uke and tori sparring.
Was Yusuke right? Were the lessons a waste, even after all this time in the dojo?
Oh well. Truth of the matter aside, the words came out more venomous than I intended. Too bad Yusuke had no intention of letting me just apologize like a mature human being or whatever. He gasped, made a show of looking offended, and used my snap as an excuse to attack. The kid launched himself at me from across the room with a roguish grin, hand raised as he made a grab for the front of my pale blue cardigan.
My mind stilled.
Trained reaction, that stillness. Obuchi hammered into his students' heads the importance of composure under pressure. Can't stare death in the face without a cool head. I waited until Yusuke's hand was mere centimeters from my sternum before ducking under his arm, spinning on my heel, and planting my foot right onto his backside. He careened across the room with a wild yelp, stumbled through my closet door, and landed in a heap atop my hamper. Clothing fell off the hangers above his head, decorating his hair with frills and lace.
"When are you gonna learn a direct attack like that will never hit me?" I stood over him with hands on hips. "Seriously. Are you capable of listening to me, or will opening your ears overload your tiny brain? Is that why you have so much earwax? To protect yourself from learning?"
Yusuke swiped a skirt off his head and glared. I leaned forward and fished a pair of leggings off his shoulder. He looked at my hand, when I offered it, the way most people look at enormous, hairy spiders.
"C'mon. Get up." I smirked. "Or do you wanna stay in there and play dress-up?"
Yusuke shrugged…and then my best friend grinned like a demon.
Next thing I knew, he'd flung a pair of panties in my face, shooting them like a slingshot off his index finger—a parody of the Spirit Gun he'd someday make his trademark.
Another fight broke out, because of course it did. Oddly enough that fight was the beginning of one of the fondest memories I had of my childhood with Yusuke. We wrestled on my closet floor until Mom heard thumping from downstairs. As penance for fighting, she made us scrub dishes until the restaurant closed. Too bad that 'punishment' led to a massive bubble-blowing contest with dish detergent. Years later, the kitchen ceiling still bore stains from where the biggest bubbles popped against the plaster. For that transgression she made us clean the lucky Buddha (or whichever god) statue by the restaurant's front door, which led to even more bubble-blowing—
Before I could sink into that memory, something cut through my recollection: a pale blue light, cool and refreshing and effervescent. It chased the memories aside like sunlight chasing away fog, and then…
And then I stared into the face of Genkai, because I'd returned to the waking world.
NOTES:
This took a while to produce because of the research I put into it. Got most technical info off Wikipedia; consider my source cited. Please allow for errors about the martial art. I've never taken it; I know I've made mistakes.
MANY THANKS TO THOSE WHO REVIEWED! Every review makes my day. Can't believe we already hit 100?! Still sort of floored people are enjoying this. Thanks to Chiasmus, kouhas, Sanguine Sky, Fire Dancer Nix, DarkDust27, DiCuoreAllison, Marian, reebajee, rya-fire1, Zero, Ajax, Guest, Kuroyuki no Ryu!
