Your-Japan is finally back up and running after sorting out some major problems with the domain. Thanks for your patience and all the great emails of support and concern. Now - straight back into the stories!!
I was on a trip to Kamakura with a whole bunch of friends, and I was pretty excited. I’d been to Kamakura several times already. Kamakura is a great place to take your friends who are new to Japan - it’s close to Tokyo, and has all the fixings of a cultural destination - plenty of shrines and temples, traditional food and atmosphere, and a huge statue of a sitting Buddha.
However I’m of the personal belief that once you’ve seen one temple, you’ve seen them all (except for a few special places in Kyoto), and despite the fact that my jaw slammed into the ground the first time I saw the big Buddha statue, 5 viewings later, I was less moved. The thing that I was really looking forward to was the weapon shops.
Thats right, weapon shops.
For reasons best known to Japan, right in front of the big Buddha statue, there are a host of shops selling all manner of crazy weapons. From your basic knife, to the mafia style ‘knuckle dusters’, to swords, to the boomerang from Blade that has blades sticking out from every direction, to nunchakus, shuriken and a range of other weapons that have to be seen to be believed. Of course, my original reason for going to Japan was for Martial Arts, so I am the proverbial kid in a candy store at these weapons shops.
Finally, after walking through all manner of temples and shrines, we reached the street leading up to the big Buddha. I was bouncing up and down in excitement trying to figure out what exotic killing tool my budget would allow me to purchase.
I regarded my friends seriously, and told them that "Alright, now the big Buddha is the most famous cultural icon around this area, and all that stuff, but a lot of the REAL cultural experience of Kamakura is to be found in these small traditional shops." This would hopefully set them up to spend at least 40 minutes in these small shops trying to find this elusive cultural experience, during which time I would be flying from shop to shop checking out all of the weapons.
I parted from my friends and entered the first shop and looked around. It was a smaller shop, but with all the regular fittings, such as swords, knives, shuriken, etc. A few swords caught my eye at the back of the shop. Entranced by these distillations of pure swordsmanship, budo and culture, I walked right up to the glass, and peered in. This particular sword that had captured my attention was made completely of wood. There was no hilt on the blade - the sheath and handle were both made from light coloured wood. When the sword was fully in the sheath, it simply looked like a beautiful piece of curving wood, completely concealing the razor sharp blade hiding inside the smooth pine finish.
I stood in front of the case, mesmorised by this amazing sword. I almost jumped out of my skin when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I was in a martial art kind of mood, so I spun around ready to face my adversary. There was no-one there. I angled my eyes downward. A short, Japanese man with white hair and a white wispy beard grinned up at me.
"So! You like swords, huh?" He said in Japanese. It struck me that he looked like the little martial arts master from Tekken.
I recovered from the initial surprise of his approach, and began talking.
"Yeah!! I love swords. I came to Japan to do budo, so I love this kind of stuff."
The old Japanese man’s bushy eyebrows raised. "You came to Japan for budo? What kind?"
"Well, similar to Aikido, but we use a lot of weapons, like swords." I said.
"I’m actually a 7th dan in Iaido." He casually mentioned.
"You’re an Iaido 7th dan?" I repeated, impressed. Iaido is a style of Japanese martial arts that focuses solely on sword work. To become a 7th dan is a considerable achievement.
"Hey…" he leaned in, and whispered to me. "Have you held a real sword?" He emphasised the word real.
"Um, I’ve SEEN real swords, of course… and I have some practise swords at home… but I’ve never held a real sword." I said.
He perked up. "Wait a minute!!!" He said, and bounded through a door near the back of the shop.
This could be interesting, I thought to myself. My attention returned to the masterfully designed swords in the case. A couple of minutes later, he came back and tapped me on the shoulder again.
I turned around. He was holding a sheathed sword. And it was stunning. Everything on the sword was exactly as it should have been. The carefully polished sheath, the authentic looking hilt, the intertwining materials on the handle. I drew in a breath.
The old man looked at my face, clearly enjoying my reaction and the opportunity to show a sword to another enthusiast.
"Watch this!" the old man said. He walked over to the sales counter, and picked up a piece of paper. He returned.
Then he unsheathed the sword.
The blade made a quiet whispering sound as it was drawn from the sheath. A chill ran down my spine as the sword was finally free of its confinement. He held the blade at arms length, and picked up the piece of paper. He slowly pulled the piece of paper over the swords upturned blade. The paper met no resistance at all as the blade effortlessly sliced it in half. The sliced strip of paper broke off and floated down to the floor.
"Wow." I managed.
He grinned back. "Hey… would you like to hold it?" He asked.
"Uh, me? Hold that sword?" I said. "Is that alright?" I gulped.
"Sure!" he said, offered me the handle.
I gently closed my hands around the handle, and the old man let go. I was holding the sword by myself. My head cocked in confusion. It was like the sword was weightless. I suddenly realised that sword was balanced so perfectly, it felt like I was holding nothing. I moved it around in the air very slowly and deliberately. I was very aware that if I tripped, or turned too quickly, I could slice through an arm, or kill myself without too much effort. I suddenly felt dizzy. A raw feeling of power coursed throughout my body, eminating from the sword. I could kill, maim or beat anyone the FUCK down. My heartrate increased and I began to sweat slightly.
I angled the sword directly upwards, and examined the blade from hilt to top. There was a black mark about 3 quarters up the blade.
I leaned in to examine the black mark. It was a smooth, very shallow indent, the size and shape of a small marble. Instinctively, my left hand detached from the handle and rose up. I put my finger into the indent.
The old man coughed nervously. I suddenly realised what I was doing, and hastily retrieved my digit.
My mind flashed back to Togara-sensei, my martial arts teacher. "Never, ever, ever touch the blade of a sword." His thundering voice reverberated in my head. "There are all sorts of shit and grease on a human hand, and it will cause damage to the blade - you have to re-oil the whole damn thing."
"Oh shit, I’m so sorry." I said apologetically to the old man.
"Ah never mind." He said kindly. "I was due to re-oil it anyway."
"It’s an amazing sword though. It’s a real shame that theres a black mark on it. What happened to it?" I asked.
"Well, this sword is 400 years old. It’s been handed down generation to generation. This sword has been in a few wars." He said sagely.
"It’s been in wars?!" I asked shocked. I felt a flush of privilege to have held a piece of history, then a wave of stupidity to have touched the blade.
"Yes. The black mark was where it was hit by a gun pellet." He enunciated.
"Holy shit, thats amazing. I guess it’s not for sale, then," I asked, as if my meager 6,000 yen budget could hope to claim such a priceless artifact.
The old man smiled gently, his face creasing. "I’m afraid this one isn’t for sale." He said. "Now if you’ll excuse me." He returned the sword to it’s place in the back room, and walked over to greet some new customers.
I purchased some wooden practice swords, and went back to find my friends.
——-
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