O
ne morning in the early
1900s, a village located
on the outskirts of Tokyo
was filled with commotion.
Not since the era of the roaming
samurai had this village been in
such a frenzy. Sporadic shouts rang
throughout the community.
“What’s his name?”
“Is he the mighty Wakayama fencer?”
“Is he challenging our hero?”
As the sun rose over the moun-
tains, not a soul was working in
the rice paddies. This was unusual.
Normally, the village was quiet and
deserted, with only cats and dogs
occupying the dusty roads. The men,
women and children tended their
rice paddies from dawn to dusk.
But today, the villagers rallied
around their champion, who was
challenged by a young upstart from
Wakayama. They all anticipated that
the upstart would be another victim
on the long list of those defeated
He slowly turned to face the per-
son who had spoken, paused for a
moment, wet his lips with his tongue
and deliberately replied: “From what
I have heard, he is young, strong and
skillful with his sword.”
As soon as he answered one
question, another was posed. For a
while, the people forgot about the
challenger as they listened to their
leader. But as the sun rose and beat
down on their bare heads, they felt
uneasy. Sweat formed on their fore-
heads and rolled down their necks.
To show respect for their leader,
they dared not move to a cooler
spot. Once every few minutes, some-
one would shield his eyes with his
hand and look as far down the road
as possible, impatiently searching
for the challenger.THE CHALLENGER
It was noon when a distant figure was
sighted. Whether he was the chal-by their champion. The village’s
hero had met and defeated all com-
ers, but never before had he fought
in his own village. Instead, he had
wandered from place to place seek-
ing his opponents. For the first time
now, his worshippers would see him
in action.
As the crowd waited impatiently for
the challenger to appear, someone
yelled at their hero, “Tell us about
your last duel!”
The champ, who was slightly built
with patches of gray hair on the sides
of his head, spoke softy: “I’ll always
remember the last challenger because
he almost beat me. He was built like a
bull but was not quick with his hands.
He tried to wear me down, but I was a
little too fast for him.”
As the champ walked toward a
high, smooth rock to sit on, another
question was directed to him: “What
do you think of this swordsman
from Wakayama?”By chance,
Ueshiba noticed
that the champ
was blinking
in the sunlight.
“What luck!”
he uttered
to himself,
whereupon he
conceived a plan.
70 BLACKBELTMAG.COM OCTOBER/NOVEMBER 2019