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Roppō Kuji no Biken (Bujinkan Theme 2004)

From 武神館兜龍 Bujinkan Toryu by Toryu

Roppō Kuji no Biken (Bujinkan Theme 2004)

The theme in 2004 was Roppō Kuji no Biken. Below is a summarisation by Grok of the transcripts from the 10 Hikan Densho DVD’s and Daikomyōsai DVD from this year.

In the January–February 2004 training sessions at the Honbu Dojo, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke continued to explore the year’s core theme of Roppō Kuji no Biken—the secret sword of the six laws and nine syllables—while deeply grounding everything in Budo no Kiso, the fundamentals of martial arts. The sword remained the primary focus, but he constantly showed how the same principles apply to all weapons, to taijutsu, and to daily life. He began by speaking directly to viewers of the ongoing video series, explaining that the recordings were now moving into volume 11 after the first ten tapes. He wanted everyone—whether they practice budo or not—to understand the correct way to watch and absorb the material. He emphasized that war and peace are not separate[1]; they are deeply connected. This connection, he said, is extremely important. He pointed to the kanji for peace (平, hei/heiwa) and traced its meaning through Japanese history: the 平家物語 Heike Monogatari Tale of the Heike, the rise and fall of the Genji and Heike clans, the 太平記 Taiheiki chronicle, and even the 平成 Heisei era (8 January 1989 to 30 April 2019). The same character also echoes the sound of soldier or troops (兵, hei)[2], and in older usage it described states of battle or balanced equilibrium. In budo, he explained, body techniques, weapons, nature—everything is linked. Recognizing this interconnectedness reveals a vital part of the art. He urged people to view the tapes as essential teachings for living itself, not just for martial study.

The eighteen arts of culture and war—these are all connected too. It’s not about the number 18 as a digit, you know; that character 1 and 8, during battles, people often say 一か八か “Ichika Bachika“—putting everything on the line in a do-or-die match. So, when it comes to the 武芸十八般 Bugei Jūhappan, budo of the eighteen arts, even if you’re analyzing them, don’t analyze—don’t do that kind of thing. Instead, put the word “Ichika Batchika” first, and from there, creative fighting comes alive, I think that’s better. If you take that as the premise and proceed, then something like the intent of war emerges, or something like that.

January 6 and 13’th and February 3, 13, 17, and 20’th 2004

During the demonstrations, Hatsumi showed practical sword work with a strong emphasis on body integration. He explained that the sharpest cutting happens at the tip’s three-sun point. He stressed that real sword technique uses the whole body, not just the blade alone. It is not about mechanically swinging the sword; it is about driving forward with taijutsu principles embedded in every motion. He demonstrated controlling with the tsuba or hilt, hooking and pressing to create openings, and flowing naturally without fixed patterns. He repeatedly returned to the state of zero: eliminate all conscious intention of what to do or how to act. In that zero state, responses to incoming attacks—whether punches, kicks, or cuts—arise spontaneously. He showed how to meet force with minimal effort, redirecting or suppressing without tension, and letting the opponent’s momentum become the decisive factor.

戦 争 も 平 和 も つ な が っ て い る と い う こ と 。 こ れ が と て も 大 事 な ん で す ね 。
Sensō mo heiwa mo tsunagatte iru to iu koto. Kore ga totemo daiji nan desu ne.

War and peace are connected. This is extremely important.

He encouraged the group to express even one small insight after each session, because everything is connected from a single point. One genuine expression from any person can link to the whole. He reminded everyone that every participant is a teacher in their own way. A student described an unexpected throw straight downward instead of sideways, feeling a terrifying unpredictability where nothing went as anticipated. Hatsumi connected this sensation to the effectiveness of guerrilla tactics or terrorism: the moment something defies expectation, it becomes powerful. Cultivating that kind of unpredictable feeling through training allows it to be applied in many different situations.

ゼ ロ の 状 態 で ね 、 そ こ で 何 を と か 、 や ろ う と か っ て 意 識 全 部 な く す こ と ね 。
Zero no jōtai de ne, soko de nani o toka, yarō toka tte ishiki zenbu nakusu koto ne.

In the state of zero, eliminate all consciousness of what to do or trying to do something.

Throughout the sessions Hatsumi maintained that budo is not about separating skills into categories or analyzing the eighteen arts of culture and war. Instead, approach everything with total commitment—the spirit of “all or nothing.” Even in times of peace, human beings are always engaged in some form of struggle, internal or external. Training in budo reveals that war and peace are the same. In that realization lies true life. He invited the group to keep watching the video series with this perspective, because once the connection between war and peace is understood, the images take on a completely different meaning. The training was practical and direct, blending sword fundamentals with broader budo principles, always pointing back to interconnectedness, zero awareness, whole-body feeling, and the unity of apparent opposites.

February 22, 24, 27, 29’th and March 2, 5’th 2004

In the February 22–March 5, 2004 training sessions at the Honbu Dojo, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke continued deepening the year’s focus on Roppō Kuji no Biken (the secret sword of the six laws and nine syllables) and Budo no Kiso (fundamentals of budo), with heavy emphasis on sword work integrated with taijutsu principles. He demonstrated how to meet incoming cuts—especially to the body or shoulder—by entering precisely without clashing, using the elbow to redirect or press while controlling the opponent’s line of attack. He explained that standing techniques differ completely from ground or seated scenarios, and that armor changes everything: even a direct shoulder cut with a sword may not penetrate effectively, requiring subtle entries to exploit gaps or vulnerabilities.

だ か ら 決 ま っ て ね え か ら ね 、 教 え ら れ ね え ん だ か ら な 。
Dakara kimatte nē kara ne, oshierarenē n da kara na.

Because it’s not fixed, that’s why it can’t be taught (in a rigid way).

Hatsumi stressed adaptability and the absence of fixed patterns. When an opponent cuts, the defender must avoid predetermined blocks or counters; instead, respond fluidly from zero intention. He showed variations on controlling the sword arm—pressing with the shoulder, shifting grip, or flowing into throws—always emphasizing whole-body use over isolated hand or blade action. Techniques like yubi kudaki (finger crushing) appeared in transitions, but he reminded everyone to execute gently to avoid unnecessary pain while still achieving control. He demonstrated how to drop or pin an opponent by rolling pressure upward along the arm with the knee, gradually increasing discomfort without relying on brute force, and warned that careless application could lead to serious injury.

こ こ 肘 で い か ね え と ダ メ だ よ 。
Koko hiji de ikanē to dame da yo.

You have to go with the elbow here; otherwise it won’t work.

Throughout, he reinforced that nothing should be decided in advance—fixing a technique mentally leads to failure in real combat. Responses must remain open and creative, allowing variations to emerge naturally from the moment. He linked this to broader survival awareness: recognize when something works, when it doesn’t, and when to shift entirely. Demonstrations included close-range entries against punches or grabs, using shoulder movement to disrupt balance and create openings, then flowing into control or throws. He encouraged the group to practice these shifts repeatedly, noting that even small adjustments (like changing direction or pressure) make everything unpredictable and effective.

The training blended sword fundamentals with taijutsu, always circling back to interconnectedness—body, weapon, intent, and environment—and the necessity of zero-state awareness where conscious effort disappears. Hatsumi kept the sessions practical and exploratory, praising progress while urging deeper feeling and non-attachment to rigid forms.

March 7, 9, 12, 16’th 2004

In the March 7–16, 2004 training sessions at the Honbu Dojo, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke continued to explore the year’s themes of Roppō Kuji no Biken (the secret sword of the six laws and nine syllables) and Budo no Kiso (fundamentals of budo), with a strong focus on sword handling integrated with whole-body taijutsu. He demonstrated how to enter against incoming cuts—especially to the body or shoulder—by using precise timing and body alignment rather than direct blocks. He explained that the defender must press or redirect with the elbow or shoulder to control the opponent’s line, preventing them from completing the cut while creating openings for counter-movement. Techniques emphasized flowing entries, shoulder-driven redirects, and using the entire body to disrupt balance without relying solely on the hands or blade.

二 刀 を 使 う た め に は ね 、 一 刀 を 使 わ な い こ と ね 。
Nitō o tsukau tame ni wa ne, ittō o tsukawanai koto ne.

To use two swords, you must not use one sword.

Hatsumi repeatedly stressed the importance of non-fixed responses and zero intention. Nothing should be decided in advance; fixing a technique mentally leads to failure in real situations. He showed variations on controlling the sword arm—pressing, shifting grip, or flowing into throws—always highlighting that true effectiveness comes from whole-body connection rather than isolated action. He linked these ideas to Miyamoto Musashi’s two-sword style (nitō-ryū), explaining that using two swords truly begins with not using one sword at all—meaning the practitioner must master single-sword principles so deeply that dual wielding emerges naturally from the same zero-state awareness.

こ う い う 感 覚 は ね 、 自 分 で は な か な か 味 わ え な い か ら ね 。
Kō iu kan kaku wa ne, jibun de wa naka naka ajiwaenai kara ne.

This kind of feeling is something you can rarely experience by yourself.

He encouraged studying the unique feeling that arises only when receiving techniques directly from another person. Self-practice can improve form, but the subtle sensation of being moved or controlled requires direct transmission from teacher to student. Demonstrations included close-range entries against grabs or strikes, using shoulder movement to unbalance, then transitioning into control or drops. He showed how to manipulate space so the opponent feels pinned or spun without obvious force, often with no audible sword clash—creating a silent, decisive cut or redirection.

The sessions maintained a practical, exploratory tone, blending sword fundamentals with taijutsu to underscore whole-body connection, zero-state awareness, and the unity of apparent opposites—body and blade, intent and non-intent, self and environment. Hatsumi guided participants toward trusting intuitive feeling over rigid patterns, fostering deeper internal awareness through direct experience and shared practice.

March 19, 21, 23, 26, 30’th and April 6, 11’th 2004

In the March 19–April 11, 2004 training sessions at the Honbu Dojo, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke continued refining sword principles within the year’s Roppō Kuji no Biken and Budo no Kiso themes, but shifted focus toward extremely close-range, intimate control and the hidden dangers of seemingly gentle techniques. He demonstrated how to enter against grabs or cuts by releasing one hand while maintaining contact with the other, using subtle body turns and shoulder pressure to redirect force without obvious exertion. He showed variations on finger control (yubi kudaki) and arm manipulation, stressing that techniques must remain soft and non-committal at first—never fully committing to one path—so the opponent cannot predict or counter effectively. He explained that true two-sword mastery (nitō-ryū) paradoxically begins with not using a single sword at all, meaning the practitioner must embody single-sword awareness so completely that dual wielding flows naturally from the same unified state without separate effort.

二 刀 を 使 う た め に は ね 、 一 刀 を 使 わ な い こ と ね 。
Nitō o tsukau tame ni wa ne, ittō o tsukawanai koto ne.

To use two swords, you must not use one sword.

A major emphasis was on the irreplaceable nature of direct, personal transmission. Hatsumi pointed out that certain profound sensations—particularly the feeling of being moved, controlled, or redirected—cannot be fully grasped through solo practice or watching others. These experiences only arise when receiving the technique directly from another person, especially the teacher, making one-to-one interaction essential for internalizing the subtle, wordless understanding that underlies real effectiveness. He urged the group to study this unique feeling closely, as it forms the bridge between visible form and invisible reality.

剣 を 回 す だ け じ ゃ な い 。 切 れ 。 剣 で も っ て 巻 き 上 げ る ん だ 。
Ken o mawasu dake ja nai. Kire. Ken de motte makiageru n da.

It’s not just turning the sword. Cut. You spin him up with the sword.

He demonstrated how to exploit pockets or clothing in close quarters—grabbing for money, hidden weapons like shuriken, or other items—turning the opponent’s possessions into tools against them or simply assessing resources before deciding whether to continue. He humorously noted that if there’s no money, there’s no need to bother, adding that he wouldn’t act in certain cases for exactly that reason. These examples highlighted that budo extends far beyond sport or kata: it involves practical street-level awareness, improvisation, and survival intelligence.

Hatsumi also showed how to generate silent, decisive outcomes with the sword—no audible clash or dramatic motion—by manipulating space so the opponent feels spun or pinned without force. He warned repeatedly about the hidden lethality of techniques that appear gentle: what looks harmless can easily break fingers, loosen teeth, or cause serious injury if applied carelessly. He demonstrated strikes to the base of the teeth (rather than the chin) for maximum disruption with minimal visible effort, but cautioned against overdoing it, recounting past incidents where similar applications led to dental damage. The sessions maintained a balance of serious instruction and humor, with Hatsumi guiding participants toward trusting intuitive, moment-to-moment adaptation over rigid planning or visible power.

April 1-3 Takamatsu 33 Anniversary Taikai 2004

Day 1 (April 1’st 2004)

In the 2004 Takamatsu Memorial Taikai (Day 1) in Japan, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke opened by framing the year’s theme—Roppō Kuji no Biken (the secret sword of the six laws and nine syllables)—through a deep esoteric lens. He connected Miyamoto Musashi‘s Go Rin no Sho (five elements: earth, water, fire, wind, void) to Mikkyō (esoteric Buddhism), adding a sixth element: (shiki, consciousness/perception). He explained that in Mikkyō, the six great elements encompass the totality of Buddhist reality, while in budo this becomes a complete view of martial essence. Ninjas, he said, “endure the body, endure the mind, endure the form, and endure consciousness practicing through six generations rather than five to fully grasp this holistic understanding.”

忍 者 は そ の 身 を 忍 び 心 を 忍 び 式 を 忍 ぶ と 言 い ま し て ね 、 識 を 忍 む と … 五 代 じ ゃ な く て 六 代 ま で で す ね 、 え ー 、 修 行 し た と 。
Ninja wa sono mi o shinobi kokoro o shinobi shiki o shinobu to iimashite ne, shiki o shinomu to… go-dai ja nakute roku-dai made desu ne, ē, shugyō shita to.

Ninjas are said to endure the body, endure the mind, endure the form, and endure consciousness… not five generations, but six generations of practice.

Hatsumi emphasized that the seminar would center on the practical reality of long and short swords, urging participants to truly grasp their essence beyond theory. He demonstrated hidden-weapon integration—shukō (finger claws), shuriken, and other concealed tools—while keeping them invisible to the opponent. He showed how to squeeze or control with minimal visible action (e.g., toe/fingernail pressure while moving), making the opponent unable to see or predict the source of control. He stressed that even without direct hand contact, techniques can succeed by entering the right spatial angle or timing.

A unique point was the concept of “up-down” dynamics in pinning or dropping: once pressure rises, immediately drop straight down for decisive effect (“Up! Down. Die.”). He linked this to silent, unseen dominance—opponents cannot retaliate because they never perceive the true point of control. Hatsumi also highlighted the importance of 識を忍ぶ Shiki o shinobu (enduring consciousness) as the highest level of awareness, where perception itself becomes a tool to endure and transcend ordinary limits. The training blended sword work with taijutsu, hidden weapons, and spatial manipulation, always returning to the idea that real mastery lies in what cannot be seen or anticipated.

Day 2 (April 2’nd 2004)

In the second day of the 2004 Takamatsu Memorial Taikai in Japan (April 2, coinciding with the 33rd anniversary of Takamatsu Toshitsugu’s passing), Masaaki Hatsumi Soke opened with a solemn yet joyful acknowledgment of the occasion. He expressed confidence that Takamatsu Sensei would be pleased to see so many international participants gathered in support of the Bujinkan. He reflected on the significance of the 33rd memorial, noting it as a pivotal moment for the Bujinkan to protect its essence and traditions moving forward, especially as higher ranks like 15th dan would emerge in the future.

高 松 先 生 も こ の よ う に 世 界 か ら 来 て い た だ い て 大 変 喜 ん で い る と 思 い ま す 。
Takamatsu Sensei mo kono yō ni sekai kara kite itadaite taihen yorokonde iru to omoimasu.

Takamatsu Sensei would be extremely pleased to see so many coming from around the world like this.

He reminded the group of the longstanding rules of transmission within the nine ryūha—passed down as 一子相伝 Isshi Sōden (one-to-one inheritance from teacher to single successor) with strict, unchanging guidelines. These rules, he clarified, apply not just to the Bujinkan as a whole but specifically to the nine traditions themselves.

昔 か ら で す ね 。 代 々 の 誓 い の 一 子 相 伝 で ね 。 決 ま っ た ル ー ル が あ り ま す 。
Mukashi kara desu ne. Dayo no chikai no isshi sōden de ne. Kimatta rūru ga arimasu.

It’s been this way since ancient times. It’s one-to-one transmission with generational vows. There are fixed rules.

Training focused on practical, adaptive sword work with hidden or improvised tools. Hatsumi demonstrated close-in entries and controls, showing how to attach shukō (finger claws), hidden weapons, or leverage devices (teko / fulcrums) to fingertips, toes, forearms, or elsewhere—imagining armor, metal fans (tessen), or other everyday items as extensions of movement. He encouraged practicing these integrations to make techniques more versatile and unpredictable, even when no weapon is visibly drawn.

He also showed how a metal fan or similar rigid object could cut or strike effectively when used with proper body mechanics (“金属扇 it can cut, you see, when you use like this”). The emphasis was on imagining and embodying multiple possibilities in real-time—attaching tools mentally and physically to adapt without fixed form.

The day closed with appreciation for the group’s effort and a call to continue tomorrow, maintaining a reverent yet lively atmosphere honoring Takamatsu Sensei’s legacy through living, evolving practice.

Day 3 (April 3’rd 2004)

In the third and final day of the 2004 Takamatsu Memorial Taikai in Japan, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke brought the event to a close with a reflective tone, honoring the occasion as the 33rd anniversary of Takamatsu Toshitsugu’s passing (April 2). He expressed deep appreciation for the international gathering, believing Takamatsu Sensei would be profoundly pleased to see so many people from around the world supporting and preserving the Bujinkan. He spoke of the importance of safeguarding the tradition moving forward, especially as higher ranks such as 15th dan would begin to appear, and reiterated the ancient, inviolable rules of transmission within the nine ryūha—passed as isshi sōden (one-to-one inheritance) with strict, generational vows that remain unchanged.

体 で や っ と こ う や っ て 行 く 。
Karada de yatto kō yatte iku.

You have to use the whole body to do this properly.

Training continued with sword work emphasizing leverage, body integration, and hidden-tool adaptation. Hatsumi demonstrated how to switch grips or reverse the blade mid-motion, using the whole body to redirect or drop the opponent without relying solely on arm strength. He showed techniques where contact is optional or minimal—entering angles where hands may not even reach the target yet still achieve control (from earlier context, but here applied in new variations). He encouraged imagining attachments like shikō, hidden weapons, or fulcrums on fingertips, toes, or forearms to multiply options —turning everyday or concealed items into extensions of movement.

エ ク ス カ リ バ ー の 剣 だ と か ね 、 日 本 の 名 刀 だ と か ね 、 そ の 関 係 が ね 、 よ く わ か っ て く る と 思 う ね 。
Ekusukaribā no ken da to ka ne, Nihon no meitō da to ka ne, sono kankei ga ne, yoku wakatte kuru to omou ne.

Swords like Excalibur, or Japan’s famous named blades—their connection becomes clear, I think.

A unique thread was the deeper symbolic meaning of the sword itself. Hatsumi connected the practice to legendary blades like Excalibur and Japan’s 名刀 Meitō (famous swords), suggesting that understanding the sword’s true nature reveals connections between East and West, and between the physical weapon and higher dimensions. He implied that even dying by the sword does not end life in the deeper sense—there is a continuity beyond physical form.

The day ended with warm gratitude for the group’s effort and an invitation to enjoy the evening, leaving participants with a sense of reverence for Takamatsu Sensei’s legacy, the sacred responsibility of transmission, and the sword as both a tool and a symbol of transcendence.

い い ト レ ー ニ ン グ し て く れ ま し た 。
Ii torēningu shite kuremashita.

You did very good training.

April 18, 20, 23, 25, 27, 30’th and May 2, 7, 11’th 2004

The April-May 2004 training session with Hatsumi Sōke focuses on fluid, non-forced taijutsu control, where initial contact remains soft and playful, allowing natural balance-taking without early or habitual gripping. He demonstrates receiving attacks lightly, trapping the opponent’s arm against his own leg or body so both arms become vulnerable through subtle shifts, emphasizing that no position is ever fixed—everything adapts instantly via body awareness and spatial flow rather than premeditated technique.

体と空間で入る。で決めてないんだよ決めてるようにやってけど、全然決まってない。
Karada to kūkan de hairu. De kimetenai n da yo kimeteru yō ni yatte kedo, zenzen kimattenai.

“Enter with body and space. Nothing is decided, even though it looks decided, it’s completely undecided.”

Hatsumi repeatedly stresses holding only when truly necessary; routine grabbing fails in real scenarios. He shows body attachment—sticking so the opponent cannot escape—enabling the practitioner’s body to follow the attacker’s momentum, creating openings for redirection, strikes, or throws. In drills, he illustrates raising arms with tsuba-like lifts or tsuki motions to meet rather than flee force, teaching that true control arises from joining the movement. He contrasts two pushing variations (one pressing from above while securing below, the other releasing to redirect), noting their distinct feelings and the need for separate practice.

逃げられないから。体もついてくるんですよ。これがとっても大事だってことを覚えてる。
Nige rarenai kara. Karada mo tsuite kuru n desu yo. Kore ga tottemo daiji da tte koto o oboeteru.

“Because you can’t escape. The body comes along too. Remember this is extremely important.”

He teaches using the opponent as a shield against further threats by turning their body while maintaining control. With weapons, he explores deceptive handle positioning to confuse timing before finishing with short blades, and insists on abandoning conscious intent to cut or strike—deliberate effort telegraphs action and invites evasion. Effective technique emerges when the body moves without trying, integrating naturally into the flow. Demonstrations include minimal hidden elbow/wrist motions for covering or redirecting, targeting wrists/hands over heads to open thrust lines, and physiological cues like feeling pulse points for artery targeting.

Throughout, he highlights researching versatile strikes—even from weak grips—that drop opponents effectively, and whole-body redirection over isolated hand actions. He concludes that genuine budō requires full bodily absorption of principles, beyond mere mental or emotional understanding; only then does unified mind-heart-body awareness enable hapō ken and fearless adaptation in Bujinkan budō taijutsu.

May 14, 21, 28’th and June 4, 11, 18, 25’th 2004

The May 2004 training session with Hatsumi Sōke emphasizes intuitive sensory awareness over visible technique, particularly through elbow usage and subtle finger control to create control without obvious effort. He demonstrates how the elbow draws close to the head or target area to enable quick, hidden redirection, stressing that one must study this feeling deeply so the opponent cannot read intentions. He shows hooking and releasing in rapid succession, using the elbow’s reversal to transmit force or endure pressure while flowing naturally, even when space limits large movements—simply lowering with the hand suffices to disrupt vision or balance.

肘を使えることよく覚えてる、こうですよ。
Hiji o tsukaeru koto yoku oboeteru, kō desu yo.

“Remember well how to use the elbow, like this.”

Hatsumi teaches avoiding any display of technique to the opponent, as revealing it invites counters; instead, movements should remain unpredictable and zero-intent, relying on spatial gaps rather than power or specific grips. He illustrates finger positioning to press or hook minimally, creating openings where the next threat—real or potential—cannot be anticipated, and how releasing a hold mid-motion keeps the opponent off-balance. In multi-angle scenarios, he controls both sides simultaneously or switches freely, even after letting go with the hands, as the greater flow persists.

相手は自分自身を忘れさせるね。
Aite wa jibun jishin o wasuresaseru ne.

“Make the opponent forget themselves.”

He highlights using centrifugal force from legs or body rotation to make the opponent forget themselves, dispersing their power to achieve stability and balance. Demonstrations include pulling clothing alongside the hand to double the hold before kicking, timing strikes to exploit weight shifts so the opponent cannot brace, and employing hidden elements—like concealed tools or deceptive releases—to exploit momentary vulnerabilities. He stresses that real encounters involve luck and unpredictability; no skill guarantees survival if fortune turns, urging constant caution and appreciation of life’s fragility, akin to historical references like kuji-in for mental resilience.

Throughout, the focus remains on sensory study—feeling which hand the opponent uses, sensing openings instinctively, and adapting without calculation—so actions emerge automatically, rendering the practitioner hard to counter while maintaining effortless versatility.

July 2, 6, 9, 20, 23’th and August 6, 8, 10’th 2004

The July-August 2004 training session with Hatsumi Sōke centers on precise entry methods and the use of natural force in taijutsu, with strong emphasis on entering in directions that prevent counters and control the opponent without direct grabbing. He repeatedly demonstrates that the way of entering is crucial: one must absolutely avoid flowing into the opponent’s striking path. Instead, enter while opening spaces and pressing points so the opponent cannot hit effectively. He shows not taking the arm or technique directly but opening it, then using the elbow to strike key points sharply—causing a collapse or “パタン Patan[3]”—followed by throws, often three times in sequence. He warns that such actions are dangerous, so stop immediately after demonstration, and stresses releasing holds quickly.

入り方が大事だな。入り方が。絶対にぶ流れる方向には入ってないとダメだ。
Iri-kata ga daiji da na. Iri-kata ga. Zettai ni bu-nagareru hōkō ni wa haittenai to dame da.

“The way of entering is important. The way of entering. You absolutely must not enter in the direction where it flows into the opponent’s path.”

Hatsumi explains that current training teaches more than isolated body techniques; it conveys larger natural power and natural force. By tuning into this, one understands true fighting survival. He demonstrates pressing while directing the opponent to perform specific actions, and shows how the same movements adapt across contexts, including with weapons drawn but still usable in flow. In later segments, he illustrates armor considerations: practice as if wearing yoroi changes movement entirely—body enters openings instead of hands, keeping spaces open during entry, and power points shift accordingly. Techniques evolve generationally based on clothing, equipment, and cultural factors, making engineering and folkloric study essential. He positions Bujinkan as preserving a cultural heritage for humanity, not promoting violence, but safeguarding life through mindful transmission.

自然力 を 教え て いる わけ です 、 自然力 。
Shizen-ryoku o oshiete iru wake desu, shizen-ryoku.

“We are teaching natural power, natural force.”

He teaches residual awareness (zanshin) as extremely important, maintaining it fully to the end. Demonstrations include pulling downward on armor-like grips to expose vulnerabilities, sticking the body to incoming force without hand reliance, chaining responses naturally to zero resistance, and searching openings carefully since armor (or everyday items like pockets with objects) blocks many entries and creates new “armor” effects. Movements must adapt to these variables without force, using space and air instead of weapons alone.

世界 遺産 と して やって る わけ ね 。
Sekai isan to shite yatteru wake ne.

“We are doing this as a world heritage.”

August 15, 20’th and September 10. 17, 24, 28’th and October 1’st 2004

The August-October 2004 training session with Hatsumi Sōke concentrates on body-based suppression of the opponent’s structure and movement, using shoulder, elbow, and hip pressure to create multiple blockages and drops without relying solely on hand grips. He demonstrates pressing various body parts to inhibit natural motion—such as squeezing shoulders to cause immediate collapse or discomfort—while explaining that different points produce distinctly different effects even if the hand position looks similar. He stresses that the body itself comes along in the technique, making suppression feel total and inescapable, and shows how opening spaces or shifting angles allows follow-up control, like turning the opponent sideways or dropping them by leveraging the whole torso rather than isolated limbs.

キックはなるべくかわすってことを覚えておいてください。実戦の場合ね。
Kikku wa narubeku kawasu tte koto o oboete oite kudasai. Jissen no baai ne.

“Remember to evade kicks as much as possible. In real combat situations.”

Hatsumi repeatedly highlights avoiding direct hand evasion of kicks due to high risk in real scenarios—especially against shoes or hard impacts—urging practitioners to evade or redirect kicks primarily with the body instead of hands whenever possible. He teaches that hand blocks invite greater danger, so training should prioritize whole-body movement to handle strong kicks safely. In sword-related drills, he explains that swords have multiple aspects or “three” or “five” elements (referring to edges, flats, guards, etc.), demonstrating how to enter close, use the body to stick or ride incoming cuts, and apply strikes or controls at the nearest point with feeling rather than calculation. He shows resting the sword or tool on the opponent’s structure to control without grabbing shoulders forcefully, allowing access to weapons or further actions while the opponent remains immobilized.

剣はやっぱり五つあるということを覚えておいてね。
Ken wa yappari itsutsu aru to iu koto o oboete oite ne.

“Remember that the sword has five aspects/elements.”

He emphasizes that in serious fights or life-or-death encounters, adaptation to changing circumstances is crucial—respond according to what arises rather than fixed patterns. Techniques are not just about striking down the opponent; they involve variations (such as from shuko tools) where the goal shifts to knocking down or disrupting balance using the waist and full body, not merely hitting with hands. He demonstrates quick, body-driven drops (“daan” sound effect) to fell the opponent rapidly, noting how entering properly lets the practitioner move freely while the opponent cannot respond or escape.

打ち倒すばかりじゃない。
Uchi taosu bakari ja nai.

“It’s not just about striking down the opponent.”

October 3, 8, 10, 15, 24, 29’th and November 5, 7’th 2004

The October-November 2004 training session with Hatsumi Sōke focuses on the principle of “wrapping up” or compression without initial force, where the practitioner starts from emptiness and gradually envelops the opponent as they commit to an attack. He demonstrates entering with no preconceived grab, allowing the opponent’s punch or movement to create an opening that he then takes away by walking forward—disrupting balance through hip-driven motion rather than arm strength alone. The elbows connect deeply to the hips for full-body leverage, making resistance futile even against stronger opponents, as the technique uses the attacker’s own extension to straighten and expose their structure.

男 性 で も 女 性 で も な い 。 命 を 守 る 。 キ ー プ す る 。
Dansei de mo josei de mo nai. Inochi o mamoru. Keep suru.

“Neither masculine nor feminine. It protects life. It keeps/preserves it.”

Hatsumi stresses that techniques transcend gender, strength, or weakness—neither masculine nor feminine, but a method to preserve life (“命の技 Inochi o mamoru.”). He shows using the entire body to attach and control rather than isolated hands or fingertips; avoid thinking of “taking” with the hand first—instead, stick fully so the opponent becomes like a puppet or doll, unable to move freely. Demonstrations include leg trapping combined with upper-body wrapping, where pulling one limb draws the opponent in for a sudden drop (“パーン!” Pā n! (see note 3)), and maintaining free hand use throughout for ongoing options without locking into one grip.

鎧を着る時。鎧だと相手の、重心を、壊す意味においてとっても大事なんだよ。
Yoroi o kiru toki. Yoroi da to aite no, jūshin o, kowasu imi ni oite tottemo daiji nan da yo.

“When wearing armor. In armor, this is extremely important for the purpose of destroying the opponent’s center of gravity.”

He explains that true effectiveness arises from not forcing or resisting—simply taking what’s available in the moment, like fishing without targeting a specific catch. In armor contexts, this wrapping becomes vital for destroying the opponent’s center of gravity without immediate grabs; position the body correctly first, then use all limbs naturally to restrict movement. He notes how the opponent ends up with their back turned or head exposed, unable to take proper ukemi, as if caught in a typhoon’s void—nothing to grasp, everything pulled away progressively. Weapons integrate seamlessly once control is established, but training emphasizes unarmed foundation so armed applications feel natural and terrifyingly efficient.

気持ちでわかるね。だから殴ってきたらこれでこれでもいいね。
Kimochi de wakaru ne. Dakara nagutte kitara kore de kore de mo ii ne.

“It becomes understandable through feeling. So when they punch, this or that works fine.”

Throughout, he encourages feeling the opponent’s intent intuitively (“気持ちでわかる Kimochi de Wakaru”), avoiding over-muscular effort, and practicing to keep hands always ready while the body envelops completely for total suppression.

November 19, 26, 28’th and December 5, 10, 17, 19’th 2004

The November-December 2004 training session with Hatsumi Sōke centers on the effective, everyday integration of small improvised weapons (spoons, chopsticks, shuriken, bo shuriken, or any handheld object) into taijutsu, emphasizing that true combat utility comes from subtle finger-level control rather than overt strength. He demonstrates hooking or attaching with minimal contact—often one finger—then shifting the entire dynamic so the opponent collapses or opens without forceful gripping; dropping the tool mid-sequence allows quick follow-ups like repeated light cuts (“キュッ、キュッ、キュッ”) or presses, always with warnings to be careful due to danger.

強 く な ろ う と 思 わ な い で ね 。 今 度 ね 、 空 間 よ く 覚 え る こ と ね 。 強 い 弱 い じ ゃ な く て ね 。
Tsuyoku narō to omowanaide ne. Kondo ne, kūkan yoku oboeru koto ne. Tsuyoi yowai ja nakute ne.

“Don’t think about becoming strong. Next, remember space well. It’s not about strong or weak.”

Hatsumi stresses avoiding the mindset of “becoming strong”—focus instead on space awareness and lightness, where power is irrelevant and technique emerges from zero intention. He shows how even a single incoming action creates cascading effects: pressing or redirecting leads the opponent to return or fall naturally, changing direction mid-flow without fixed forms or sequences—everything resets to zero. Practitioners must feel and exploit the “escape” direction the opponent chooses, turning their strongest evasion into a counter collision point where they crash into control.

逃 が し て く れ る 方 向 に 逃 げ る と 、 そ こ を 押 さ え ら れ て く る ん で す ね 。
Nigashite kureru hōkō ni nigeru to, soko o osaerarete kuru n desu ne.

“If you escape in the direction they let you escape to, that spot gets pressed/controlled.”

He describes this as a modern, essential martial sensation for changing times—countering without meeting force head-on, using the opponent’s commitment against them like an iridescent jewel (tamamushi) illusion that appears solid but shifts unpredictably. Demonstrations include armor-specific entries: slipping under maedare (front apron) to open gaps, targeting ears for painful control without full grabs, or using short ninja-to angles from below to hook and disrupt rather than clash directly—reversing cuts risks self-injury if the opponent turns.

Throughout, he teaches that weapons become truly usable only after mastering this spatial, non-grasping sensation—train until control feels automatic and natural, where the opponent “fits” into suppression themselves without deliberate force. The goal is not destruction but effortless dominance through awareness of openings, direction changes, and improvised tools in real scenarios.

そうですよね。ここで教えろっていったって、教えられないね。教わって何もないね。こういう感覚まで練習しなくちゃだめ、できるまでね。

Sō desu yo ne. Koko de oshiero tte itta tte, oshierarenai ne. Osowatte nani mo nai ne. Kō iu kankaku made renshū shinakucha dame, dekiru made ne.

“That’s right. Even if I say teach here, it can’t be taught. Being taught, there’s nothing. You must practice up to this sensation, until you can do it.”

Daikomyōsai (November 30, December 1-2’nd 2004) Origins of Budo

Day 1 (November 30’th 2004)

The 2004 Daikomyosai Day 1 training with Hatsumi Sōke centers on studying budō from the perspective of wearing armor, with participants instructed to train as if in armor even without wearing it physically, to grasp how it alters movement, balance, and technique. He explains that armor restricts normal walking, requiring hip-driven steps for effective motion, especially with weapons like bayonets or guns. He demonstrates that strikes and evasions change significantly in armor, such as using the kote area differently and hooking without heavy grabbing. With swords, he shows close-range control, keeping the body attached while maintaining full balance, and using proximity to hook and drop the opponent.

ヨロイの中で体が動けるようにすることね。
Yoroi no naka de karada ga ugokeru yō ni suru koto ne.

“Make it so your body can move inside the armor.”

He stresses separating body movement from armor restriction for safety during strikes, adapting to the opponent’s attacks, and noting that grappling in armor differs greatly from regular training—falling in armor creates obstacles rather than clean ukemi. In demonstrations, he illustrates entering and controlling with minimal grip, allowing freedom to change techniques, and using a light, thread-like connection. For incoming punches, he covers and redirects while emphasizing whole-body involvement. He concludes that simple techniques offer infinite applications, advising against overcomplicating or using fancy movements so one can move freely.

複雑なことを考えすぎなくていい。派手なことをしすぎない。
Fukuzatsu na koto o kangaesugi nakute ii. Hade na koto o shisuginai.

“You don’t have to think too much about complicated things. Don’t do too much fancy stuff.”

Day 2 (December 1’st 2004)

The 2004 Daikomyosai Day 2 training with Hatsumi Sōke continues exploring budō through the lens of armor, focusing on how the weight and structure of yoroi amplify striking momentum and presence even with light contact. He demonstrates that armored strikes draw power from the entire body, creating doubled movement and a strong sense of force without deep impact transmission. He explains that armor adds resistance similar to moving through water, demanding taijutsu that adapts fluidly to the worn environment and situation.

片手の場合だとこうやって伸ばすだけ。俺撃ってんじゃねえのね。
Kata-te no baai da to kō yatte nobasu dake. Ore utten ja nē no ne.

“In the one-handed case, just extend like this. I’m not the one striking, right?”

Hatsumi shows simultaneous drawing of the yoroidoshi (armor-piercing dagger) during a strike to integrate weapon use seamlessly. In one-handed sword scenarios, he illustrates extending the blade without overcommitting to avoid disadvantage, emphasizing controlled stopping points over excessive cutting. He teaches using armor components like shoulder drapes as built-in shields that protect while allowing counters. He demonstrates dropping an opponent’s sword with secondary blade techniques and stresses precise sword angle and positioning—small adjustments prevent being cut while enabling safe returns. He warns against cutting too far past the target, as it creates vulnerability, and highlights that proper positioning and minimal overextension keep the exchange favorable.

切りすぎないからいいよね。切りすぎないとまた不利なんです。
Kirisuginai kara ii yo ne. Kirisuginai to mata furi na n desu.

“It’s good because you don’t cut too much. If you cut too much, it becomes disadvantageous again.”

Day 3 (December 2’nd 2004)

The 2004 Daikomyosai Day 3 training with Hatsumi Sōke concludes the armor-focused seminar, emphasizing practical sword use in armored combat and the lifelong depth required to understand true bushido. He demonstrates a specialized tachi (long sword) with double-edged sections for situational adaptability, showing that certain parts do not cut while others do, allowing strikes from unexpected angles or weak points. He stresses entering from unseen or unpredictable directions and targeting vulnerabilities rather than forcing powerful cuts. He explains that picking up objects or moving in armor requires knee bending and proper leg positioning for stability.

少し勉強したぐらいでは、日本の武士道は分かりません。一生勉強しないとね。
Sukoshi benkyō shita gurai de wa, Nihon no bushidō wa wakarimasen. Isshō benkyō shinai to ne.

“Unless you study very well, you’re not going to understand Japanese bushido. It takes your whole life to really understand.”

Throughout, he highlights that superficial study cannot grasp Japanese bushido—it demands a lifetime of dedicated practice. In the closing segment, he announces a significant change: from now on, 15th dan holders will bring their students to Japan for godan (5th dan) tests conducted in his presence, turning the grading into a direct, witnessed evaluation rather than remote or delegated processes. He performs multiple successful godan tests on the spot, describing the events as miraculous and proof of genuine phenomena within the Bujinkan, not imitation or staging. He refutes online claims that the godan test is fake by demonstrating its authenticity live. He ends by thanking participants, encouraging continued training with this spirit, and noting that the seminar is not yet over—practice should continue.

これから15段の人がみんな国から連れてきて、俺の前でみんな15段のテストをしてくれる。
Kore kara jūgo-dan no hito ga minna kuni kara tsurete kite, ore no mae de minna jūgo-dan no tesuto o shite kureru.

“From now on, the 15th dan people will bring their students from their countries, and everyone will do the 15th dan test in front of me.”

武神館に奇跡があるんです。このようにね、私が演出したわけじゃありません。
Bujinkan ni kiseki ga aru n desu. Kono yō ni ne, watashi ga enshutsu shita wake ja arimasen.

“There are miracles in the Bujinkan. Like this—it’s not something I staged or planned.”

Footnotes

  1. He was referring to Lev Tolstoy‘s book War and Peace. ↩
  2. Heitai (兵隊) is a Japanese term literally meaning ‘soldier’ or ‘troops,’ derived from ‘hei’ (soldier) and ‘tai’ (unit or group). It denotes enlisted men or privates in the Imperial Japanese Army (IJA), primarily those in infantry roles. The term’s primary historical usage refers to these enlisted soldiers serving from the Meiji Restoration in 1868 through the dissolution of the IJA in 1945. ↩
  3. He explicitly said: “これでパタンってやりますよ。これでパタンってやりますよ。肘で。” ( Kore de patan tte yarimasu yo. Kore de patan tte yarimasu yo. Hiji de. ) This translates roughly to: “With this, I do ‘patan’. With this, I do ‘patan’. With the elbow.”
    The word “patan” (パタン) is not an English word—it’s a Japanese onomatopoeia (giongo/gitaigo). In Japanese sound-effect usage (common in manga, anime, martial arts descriptions, and everyday speech), “patan” (or “patan tte”) mimics a light, sudden, floppy collapse or fall—often something dropping limply, like a book slamming shut, a person flopping down weakly, or a body/structure giving way instantly with a soft “thud” or “flop” sound. It’s lighter and more abrupt than heavier impacts like “batan” (which is a louder slam or heavy fall) or “dosun/zushin” (deep thuds). ↩

The post Roppō Kuji no Biken (Bujinkan Theme 2004) appeared first on 武神館兜龍 Bujinkan Toryu.…

虎擲龍拏十方折衝秘文 Koteki Ryōda Juppō Sesshō (Bujinkan Theme 2003)

From 武神館兜龍 Bujinkan Toryu by Toryu

虎擲龍拏十方折衝秘文 Koteki Ryōda Juppō Sesshō (Bujinkan Theme 2003)

The theme in 2003 was Juppō Sesshō. Below is a summarisation by Grok of the transcripts from the 10 Hikan Densho DVD’s and Daikomyōsai DVD from this year.

The room is quiet except for the soft echo of footsteps and the occasional creak of the wooden floor as Hatsumi Sōke begins to speak. He stands near a simple drawing he has made himself, and right away he points to the center of it: a candle flame burning steadily. “This is a picture that I drew,” he says, “but in the center the candle’s fire is lit.” His voice is calm, almost gentle, but carries the weight of someone who has spent decades thinking about these things.

He moves into the idea of 秘伝伝照 hiden denshō (secret transmission)1. In Christianity they speak of the holy fire, he notes, but fire in general is “regarded as a symbol of something important.” Whether it is the sun’s light or the candle’s light, “all things that shine and disappear.” Yet while the flame is shining, he continues, “this is very important as a key to expressing the next life.” He pauses, then draws a connection to the kanji for “tree” 木 ki (tree), explaining that the character contains the “machine of opportunity” or “machine of season.” A true transmitter of the tradition, he says, “knows the essence of fire very well” and treats precious things with great care.

The tone shifts slightly as he describes the dual nature of fire. Far away it is warm, illuminating everything around you clearly. But get too close—“when the fire approaches, it becomes hot, you get burned, or in some cases you die.” That is why, he explains, the old saying exists: an insect clinging to a horse’s tail can travel a thousand ri, but “insects often fly straight into the flame.” He believes the two images overlap in a meaningful way.

虎擲龍拏十方折衝秘文 
KOTEKI RYŌDA JUPPŌ SESSHŌ

Bujinkan Theme 2003 Kunai, Kyoketsu Shoge, Sword and Juppō Sesshō

For those who protect tradition, he stresses, “nothing is more important than cherishing the brilliance of the fire, knowing it well, looking at it well.” This leads to what he calls 武風一貫 Bufū Ikkan (martial wind consistency), but he immediately corrects himself with a small smile in his voice: “That 武風一貫 Bufū Ikkan (martial wind consistency) is not wind. 風貌 fūbō (demeanor).” Maintaining the demeanor of a warrior consistently, he says, is “one important undertaking” for creating “a fragrant adult person” in the next generation.

January 7, 12, 14, 19 and 21’st 2003

He then announces that from this time onward he will use the phrase 秘伝伝承 hiden denshō (secret transmission). It implies something that shines and radiates. “One technique, one weapon, or basic firing… shine like light and, within that light, 心技体 Shin-Gi-Tai (mind-technique-body) emerge together.” He wants the students to see that everything is deeply connected, so they can look “more broadly and more deeply.”

Later, after a brief exchange in another language and some music, he returns to the concept of 守破離 Shu-Ha-Ri (guard-break-separate). He mentions an old waka poem: “Both the one who strikes and the one who is struck are merely playing in a dream.”[2] He explains that in true martial tradition, “separation” does not mean actually leaving. “While protecting tradition, not separating from it, being in that place, cherishing the connection, giving eternal life force to the next generation—that is tradition.”

The session continues with short instructions and demonstrations, but the heart of his words remains that same quiet, insistent message: transmission is not just passing on techniques. It is protecting a living flame—something that gives life when handled with wisdom, and destroys when approached carelessly. The way he speaks makes it clear he has lived with that fire for a very long time.

January 24, 28, 31 and February 2’nd 2003

The training hall carries the familiar rhythm of focused practice—feet shifting, breath steady, the quiet clack of weapons or hands meeting in controlled exchanges. Hatsumi Sōke moves among the students, his voice calm and measured as he guides them through the day’s work. The theme this winter is clear: 十方折衝 Juppō Sesshō (ten directions collision / mutual striking from all sides), the principle of engaging an opponent from every angle, using the kunai against an unarmed attacker or someone armed with a sword.

その相手が一番弱いと思う時に攻撃する
Sono aite ga ichiban yowai to omou toki ni kōgeki suru

When you think that the opponent is at their weakest moment, attack.

He speaks of timing with precision. “In that state,” he says, “when you think the opponent is weakest, attack.”[3] He demonstrates a subtle change in grip: “Take that key and switch it. Yes, OK—bring it back with the thumb, or bring it back with the index finger.” He pauses to make sure they understand: “Keep this in mind. Please practice this a little. With this thumb… yes, bring it back like this.”

The movement is deliberate and slow. “Because it’s budō,” he explains, “slowly match the body and do it like this.” He warns against relying only on the fingers: “Thinking to return with the finger is absolutely no good. It seems like returning with the finger, but it’s not the finger.” Instead, “in the natural way of the body, do it like this.” He draws a contrast: “It’s different from sleight of hand. Properly ride on the body. Naturally so that it comes to the body even when talking.”

柔体術が完全にできて初めて右が生きる
Jūtai-jutsu ga kanzen ni dekite hajimete migi ga ikiru

Only when jūtai-jutsu is perfected does the right side become live.

He continues correcting and encouraging. “Yes, OK. I’ll hide it with this. Slowly like this… and like this.” A student echoes the idea in English, and Hatsumi nods, stressing the whole body: “You are not using this. You are using the body. When 柔体術 jūtai-jutsu (soft body techniques) is perfected, only then does the right side come alive.” The receiving side must be fully activated to make the kunai effective against sword or empty hands.

He observes the students’ attempts. “Everyone tries to take from below,” he notes, “but practice opening like this. They come here, yes, here.” He demonstrates control: “Here you are good. The person is coming, right? Mine.” He reinforces: “Here it’s not used. The body is used. When jūtai-jutsu is complete, the right side lives.”

He touches on the deeper structure of 守破離 shu-ha-ri (guard-break-separate), a concept long valued in the arts. He quotes an old waka poem: “Both the one who strikes and the one who is struck are merely playing in a dream.” He clarifies that true separation is not abandonment: “While protecting tradition, not separating from it, being in that place, cherishing the connection, giving eternal life force to the next generation—that is tradition.”

The session remains patient and repetitive, filled with small adjustments and quiet reminders. His message stays steady: in 十方折衝 Juppō Sesshō, the kunai is not merely a tool—it is an expression of the whole body, the right timing, and the living connection between attacker and defender. The way he speaks makes it clear that every movement carries this deeper understanding.

February 4, 7, 9 and 11’th 2003

The dojo hums with focused practice—feet shifting on the tatami, breath steady, hands meeting in controlled exchanges. Hatsumi Sōke moves through the group, his voice calm and direct as he guides the students deeper into the session. The theme remains 十方折衝 Juppō Sesshō (ten directions collision), the kunai used against an unarmed opponent or someone with a sword, and today the focus sharpens on grip changes, hidden angles, and the moment of decision.

その相手が一番弱いと思う時に攻撃する
Sono aite ga ichiban yowai to omou toki ni kōgeki suru

When you think the opponent is weakest, attack

He emphasizes timing and vulnerability. When you think the opponent is weakest, attack. He demonstrates a subtle shift: Bring it back with the thumb, or bring it back with the index finger. He insists they internalize it: Keep this in mind.

The pace is deliberate. Because it’s budō, slowly match the body and do it like this. He cautions against finger-only thinking: Thinking to return with the finger is absolutely no good. It seems like returning with the finger, but it’s not the finger. Instead, In the natural way of the body, do it like this.

柔体術が完全にできて初めて右が生きてる
Jūtai-jutsu ga kanzen ni dekite hajimete migi ga ikiteru

When jūtai-jutsu is perfected, only then does the right side come alive.

He demonstrates hiding and control. I’ll hide it with this, slowly like this… and like this. The right side must activate fully: When jūtai-jutsu is perfected, only then does the right side come alive.

He observes patterns: Everyone tries to take from below, but practice opening like this. He stresses whole-body coverage: Cover both arms like this.

The session is direct and repetitive, filled with small corrections and encouragement. His message is clear: in Juppō Sesshō with the kunai, timing must be precise, the body must move naturally, and the right side must live through perfected jūtai-jutsu. The attack comes from the unseen angle, the grip shifts subtly, and the transmission lives in the moment of application.

February 16, 18 and 21’st 2003

The training continues with a steady, focused energy—students working in close pairs, the kunai moving in controlled arcs, the sound of breath and quiet corrections filling the air. Hatsumi Sōke guides them through the practical application of 十方折衝 Juppō Sesshō (ten directions collision), emphasizing the kunai’s versatility against unarmed opponents or those with swords.

動きは体から流れるように
Ugoki wa karada kara nagareru yō ni

The movement must flow from the body.

He stresses the importance of natural redirection. “Bring it back with the thumb,” he instructs, “or bring it back with the index finger.” He urges careful practice: “Keep this in mind. Please practice this a little.” The movement must flow from the body: “Because it’s budō, slowly match the body and do it like this.” He warns against finger-only reliance: “Thinking to return with the finger is absolutely no good. It’s not the finger.” Instead, “in the natural way of the body, do it like this.”

He demonstrates control and concealment. “I’ll hide it with this. Slowly like this… and like this.” He reinforces the need for full-body integration: “When 柔体術 jūtai-jutsu (soft body techniques) is perfected, only then does the right side come alive.” The receiving side must be alive to make the kunai effective.

受け側が生きてこそ、クナイが効く
Uke-gawa ga ikite koso, kunai ga kiku

The receiving side must be alive to make the kunai effective.

He points out common tendencies: “Everyone tries to take from below, but practice opening like this.” He shows how to cover and guard: “Cover both arms like this. Learn this method of covering or guarding your hands.” A student translates: “I’m not just using any technique here. I’m just controlling them.” Hatsumi nods, emphasizing the third dimension: “So this is the third dimension.”

He returns to the idea of freedom with the weapon: “Even if it’s not drawn, you can still use it.” He stresses using space rather than force: “Don’t think of drawing this with your hand. You have to use the space to draw it.” He guides them to control without full commitment: “So you’ve got him tied up in a way that he doesn’t really understand.” A student adds: “He doesn’t understand how he’s being tied up.”

ただコントロールしているだけだ
Tada kontorōru shite iru dake da

I’m just controlling them.

The session remains direct and practical, with Hatsumi correcting grips, angles, and timing. His message is clear: in Juppō Sesshō, the kunai is not about brute force or visible action. It is about natural body movement, precise timing, and controlling the opponent from unseen angles. The right side must be alive, the weapon used freely even when undrawn, and the technique must remain invisible to the opponent. The transmission lives in these subtle, integrated moments.

February 23, 25 and March 7 and 11’th 2003

The training hall resonates with the quiet intensity of repetition—students pairing off, kunai shifting in tight arcs, breath synchronized with movement. Hatsumi Sōke moves among them, his voice steady as he refines the day’s focus on 十方折衝 Juppō Sesshō (ten directions collision), exploring the kunai’s role in close control against unarmed opponents or swordsmen.

これが温身術なんだよ。十方殺生の動きね
Kore ga Onshin-jutsu nanda yo. Juppō Sesshō no ugoki ne

This is Onshin-jutsu. The movement of ten directions killing/life-giving.

He stresses adaptability and the unseen. “Even if it’s not drawn, you can still use it,” he explains, showing how the kunai remains effective without full extension. He emphasizes space over force: “Don’t think of drawing this with your hand. You have to use the space to draw it.” He guides them to concealment and redirection: “So you’ve got him tied up in a way that he doesn’t really understand.” A student adds: “He doesn’t understand how he’s being tied up.”

そういうことが大事、取っても大事なのだから、精神的な
Sō iu koto ga daiji, totte mo daiji na no dakara, seishinteki na

Such things are important, extremely important, because they are spiritual

He highlights mental control and demeanor. “So that’s why I got these hints from Sensei,” a translator relays, “and after that I didn’t worry about thinking on my own as much.” Hatsumi nods, underscoring the spiritual dimension: Such things are important, extremely important, because they are spiritual. He continues: That’s why he often said everything is in the realm of the spirit.

He speaks of composure in conflict. A student recalls Takamatsu-sensei’s example: someone steps on your foot on a crowded train. Instead of reacting with anger, respond gently: “Oh, your foot happened to come on top of mine.” The aggressor “shrivels up” with shame rather than escalating. The point is non-mirroring—respond with calm, not reaction.

だから、なんでも精神の世界だってよくおっしゃってたけどね
Dakara, nan demo seishin no sekai datte yoku osshatte ta kedo ne

That’s why he often said everything is in the realm of the spirit.

The session remains practical, with Hatsumi correcting grips, angles, and intent. He encourages freedom: “You can use anything.” The message stands out: in Juppō Sesshō, the kunai thrives on space, subtlety, and mental composure. The body moves naturally, the weapon is used even undrawn, and the spirit remains unshaken. Transmission is not just physical—it is a calm, spiritual presence that controls without force.

March 18 and 25’th and April 1, 8 and 11’th 2003

In this March-April 2003 training session at the Honbu Dojo, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke emphasized the profound, non-physical essence of true budo beyond mere weapon handling or technique execution. While demonstrating with tools like the kunai, kyoketsu-shoge, kodachi, and ropes, he stressed controlling 空間 Kūkan (space and air) as the core of effectiveness—making the opponent “cut the air” while rendering their movements ineffective or self-defeating. He described creating a vacuum-like draw that pulls the attacker in involuntarily, likening it to magnetic forces (N and S poles) or sucking the opponent into a trap without relying on strength, grabbing, or direct confrontation.

完 全 と 不 完 全 の 中 で 人 間 は 生 き て る
Kanzen to fukanzen no naka de ningen wa ikiteru

Humans live in between perfect and not perfect.

Hatsumi highlighted living between perfection and imperfection, where humans exist, and urged practitioners to forget self-existence, erase presence in space, and operate from a state of zero or void (無 Mū). This leads to 大光明 Daikōmyō (great bright light) emerging from nothingness—like sparks from colliding hearts or objects—rooted in sincerity まごころ Magokoro, love, and true intention rather than conscious technique. He warned that over-teaching or spoon-feeding students can hinder their independent survival ability, as real understanding arises from personal feeling and repeated experience, often only grasped after being “done to.”

無 の 中 の 光 だ よ ね 。 四 季 花 見 つ う 大 光 明 だ よ ね
Mu no naka no hikari da yo ne. Shiki hana mi tsuu daikōmyō da yo ne

It’s the light within nothingness. The great bright light of viewing flowers in the four seasons.

He connected arts across disciplines (painting in air, dancing in space) and referenced historical and cultural figures like Yokoyama Taikan[4] and Takamatsu Sensei to illustrate timeless principles. In combat, redirect not the weapon but the opponent’s ki or intention; evade their consciousness itself. Weapons become “friends” for playful, dexterous use—switching grips, hiding, improvising—turning everyday objects into extensions of free movement. Ultimately, survival in a borderless, high-stakes world demands this intuitive, heart-centered awareness to never lose.

ま ご こ ろ ね 。「 大 切 な も の は ま ご こ ろ 」 と か 「 愛 」 と 「 ま ご こ ろ 」、 愛 、 こ れ が 大 事
Magokoro ne. ‘Taisetsu na mono wa magokoro’ toka ‘ai’ to ‘magokoro’, ai, kore ga daiji.

Sincerity/magokoro. ‘The most important thing is magokoro’ or ‘love and magokoro’—love and sincerity; these are what matter.

April 15 and 18’th and May 2, 6 and 9’th 2003

In this April-May 2003 session at the Honbu Dojo, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke continued exploring weapons like the kyoketsu-shoge (with its blade, rope/chain, and ring), ropes, chains, and related tools, shifting emphasis from overt tying or grabbing to subtle control through space (空間) and timing. He demonstrated receiving attacks by creating traps where the opponent enters involuntarily—often by presenting openings or using minimal movements to hook, redirect, or ensnare without force. Key ideas included not thinking about “tying up” or “grabbing” the opponent; instead, use wrapping, hooking, or enveloping sensations to make them self-entangle, lose balance, or become immobilized naturally.

無 理 し ち ゃ っ ち ゃ 、 も う 無 理 は 効 か な い 、 こ う い う 強 い 人 に は ね
Muri shichatcha, mō muri wa kikanai, kō iu tsuyoi hito ni wa ne.

If you force it, it won’t work anymore—against truly strong people like this.

Hatsumi stressed 自然 Shizen (natural movement), avoiding haste or visible effort—let the opponent’s momentum carry them into disadvantageous positions, such as falling while “cutting” themselves or being unable to rise. Legs and footwork play crucial roles in stopping, dropping, or controlling distance without pulling weapons out prematurely. He advised covering or enveloping the opponent (like wrapping a bee so it can’t sting) to neutralize threats, even if they carry swords or other arms—preventing draws or effective use by controlling posture, space, and intent early.

相 手 に 空 間 を 持 た せ る こ と で 空 間 を 持 た せ る
Aite ni kūkan o motaseru koto de kūkan o motaseru.

By giving the opponent space, you make them hold space (trapping them in it).

Advanced concepts emerged toward the end: true mastery reaches 神業 Kamiwaza (divine/god-like techniques), appearing unearthly or inexplicable because they operate from nothingness or zero effort, controlling everything without apparent action. This ties into 護身道 Goshindo (protective divine path) as an ancient way of preserving life through non-struggle. He highlighted the importance of deep feeling/sensitivity (, kan), where multiple meanings of the kanji reflect nuanced perception—emotional, tactile, intuitive—essential for understanding beyond words or fixed forms. Practitioners must absorb these through repeated exposure and personal internalization to pass them on authentically to future generations, avoiding rigid fixation that shrinks true knowledge.

以 心 伝 心 っ て ね 。
Ishin denshin tte ne.

It’s ishin denshin (transmission from heart/mind to heart/mind).

Hatsumi reiterated that over-explaining or forcing techniques backfires; real growth comes from feeling the “nothing” or void in movement, where opponents confuse themselves. Translation challenges arise because Japanese concepts like “kan” carry layered meanings hard to convey precisely, even among natives—echoing the difficulty of transmitting Takamatsu Sensei’s vast, unfixed teachings without diminishing them.

May 11, 13, 20, 23, 27 and 30’th 2003

In this May 2003 training segment at the Honbu Dojo (May 11–30), Masaaki Hatsumi Soke opened with reflections on preserving authentic budo transmission. He stressed the critical importance of value (価値) and point (ポイント)—core essences or pivotal elements—framed in yin-yang terms as foundational to true understanding. He expressed intent to personally oversee future book projects to ensure accurate representation of Takamatsu Sensei’s teachings, avoiding misinterpretations by outsiders or those who add personal spins. Hatsumi emphasized teaching only what Takamatsu Sensei imparted—nothing of his own invention, which he dismissed as worthless—because personal creations lead to failure. He urged students to catch his intended meaning precisely, treasure the pure points received, and pass them on worldwide without dilution, even if only one person truly grasps them.

俺 は い ぬ ち を か け て 、 ず っ と き て る ん だ よ
Ore wa inochi o kakete, zutto kite ru n da yo.

I’ve staked my life on this and kept coming all along.

He noted that knowing too much often corrupts people (e.g., alcohol, gambling, desires), so in budo it’s better not to “know” intellectually or seek to understand everything; remain in a state of not-knowing to stay pure. Takamatsu Sensei’s vast knowledge was never rigidly fixed, allowing it to remain expansive—fixing or structuring it shrinks its depth. Practice must flow from this unfixed, heart-to-heart transmission (以心伝心), not ego or personal development.

自 分 の も の を 教 え た ら ね 、 失 敗 す る
Jibun no mono o oshieta ra ne, shippai suru.

If you teach your own things, you’ll fail.

Demonstrations focused on kunai (and possibly related tools), emphasizing center (中心) in space—finding one’s own spatial center and the opponent’s, using the body to create shields () or cushions in space without force or contact. Techniques involved subtle hooking, redirecting, floating the opponent (e.g., lifting waist/hips without grabbing), enveloping attacks, and controlling from multiple angles/directions. He illustrated making “shields” in space to block intrusion (linking to ninjutsu’s character as shield-like protection), covering all sides naturally, and using posture changes, butt/end of the weapon, or minimal movements to neutralize strikes or chokes. Emphasis was on feeling/sensation (感覚) over visible technique—opponents self-entangle or lose balance when drawn in, with the practitioner remaining soft, centered, and unattached.

知 っ て か ら 人 間 っ て い う の は 悪 く な る ん だ よ
Shitte kara ningen tte iu no wa waruku naru n da yo.

Once people know [too much], they become bad/corrupted.

Hatsumi highlighted that true control arises when the self becomes the center of space, enabling effortless, omnidirectional coverage—like a perpetual shield—where attacks can’t penetrate effectively.

July 11 and 29’th and September 9 and 30’th 2003

In this July–September 2003 session at the Honbu Dojo, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke focused on foundational principles of evasion, attraction, and integration in combat, using demonstrations that incorporated body movement, weapons (e.g., swords, kunai), and kicks. He described extending an “antenna” in all directions (四方八方 Shihō Happō) to sense and envelop attacks without grabbing or direct avoidance—instead, wrapping or attaching to the opponent’s action naturally, becoming an extension of their movement. This creates a magnetic-like attraction in space (空間の磁気 Kūkan no Jikite), not Newtonian gravity but an invisible pull akin to fields or forces drawing things together.

こ っ ち に ね 、 こ れ 四 方 八 方 に こ れ ア ン テ ナ 張 る ん だ よ
Kocchi ni ne, kore shihō happō ni kore antena haru n da yo.

Extend antennas in all four directions and eight ways here.

Hatsumi referenced 天地陰陽の構え (tenchi in’yō no kamae, heaven-earth yin-yang posture) as a key stance for this, linking it to concepts like 玉壺流電 (possibly alluding to flowing electric/current-like energy in a vessel/jade pot style) and preparatory elements such as silent “koto” (琴なき) to initiate techniques. He emphasized riding the natural rhythm (リズム Rizumu) of the encounter—matching the opponent’s timing like a player syncing perfectly with music—rather than imposing one’s own or letting it run off-beat. Techniques must flow on the opponent’s momentum 十方殺生の実 Juppō Sesshō no Jitsu (rhythm, referenced in context of Kotoki Rodan or similar), avoiding forced or rushed execution that creates openings ( Suki).

空 間 の 磁 気 て い う ん や な
Kūkan no jiki te iu n ya na.

It’s called the magnetism of space.

Practical points included drawing weapons fluidly in the moment of contact (short or long swords), maintaining no gaps even when handling tools, covering vulnerabilities, and using subtle entries to control or counter (e.g., inserting under kicks, redirecting to expose necks or joints). He stressed feeling the space push or pull, with the practitioner often appearing passive while the opponent self-attaches or collapses into disadvantage. Demonstrations showed soft, enveloping body use to neutralize strikes, create unseen threats (e.g., hidden weapon paths leading to elbows or stabs), and achieve omnidirectional coverage without tension.

天 地 陰 陽 の 構 え っ て 言 う
Tenchi in’yō no kamae tte iu.

It’s called the heaven-earth yin-yang posture.

Hatsumi connected these to broader martial traditions, including influences from Chinese kenpo (where Takamatsu Sensei excelled internationally), and urged practitioners to internalize the “unseen” or intuitive feel over visible form—making opponents feel an inexplicable pressure or attachment leading to imbalance.

October 21’st, November 18’th and December 16’th 2003

In this October–December 2003 training period at the Honbu Dojo, Masaaki Hatsumi Soke delved into subtle, intention-based control and deception in combat, using weapons like shuriken (hand-thrown blades), swords, and bare hands. Demonstrations emphasized gentle yet psychologically penetrating techniques—such as feinting toward the eyes without actual contact, creating a strong feeling or intention that registers in the opponent’s mind while the physical action remains soft or absent. He explained this as psychological rather than purely physical: the opponent senses the threat in their eyes or perception, but no real harm occurs because the intent is held back.

刺 そ う と 思 っ て 力 を 入 れ る と ね 、 相 手 に 意 識 が わ か っ ち ゃ う
Sasō to omotte chikara o ireru to ne, aite ni ishiki ga wakacchau.

If you think ‘stab’ and put power into it, the opponent senses your intention.

Key principles included avoiding overt intention when using tools like shuriken—don’t think “stab” or “throw hard”, as conscious effort telegraphs the move and allows escape. Instead, release casually or naturally, letting the weapon flow effortlessly like water or a floating sensation, making it invisible or unpredictable. This ties into 水見刃 Mizukiri-ha (“water-cutting blade” or blinding card analogy): point and release lightly rather than force a launch, achieving better accuracy and subtlety.

常 識 の 反 対 な 。 だ か ら 相 手 ハ マ る
Jōshiki no hantai na. Dakara aite hamaru.

It’s the opposite of common sense. That’s why the opponent falls into the trap.

Hatsumi highlighted flowing with the opponent’s rhythm and expectations, then doing the opposite of common sense—e.g., in 一の構え Ichi no kamae (“one posture” or straight-line stance), a foundational Togakure-ryū kenjutsu position, appearing short/vulnerable draws the attacker in, only to exploit the opening with redirection, distance control, or counters that avoid injury. He called his approach ずるい Zurui “sneaky” or “unfair” in a positive sense—breaking rigid rules to survive without harm, akin to 嘘も方便 Usomo Hōben (“a lie is also expedient/means to an end”)[5], a Buddhist concept where skillful means (even deception) serve higher compassion or protection when motivated correctly. Life and real combat demand this adaptive “cleverness” rather than rigid adherence to “by-the-book” norms.

ず る い の 、 と っ て も 俺 の や り 方 は ね 。 ず る い か ら 、 あ の 、 怪 我 し な い の は
(Zurui no, totemo ore no yarikata wa ne. Zurui kara, ano, kega shinai no wa.

It’s sneaky—my way is really sneaky. Because it’s sneaky, there’s no injury.

He stressed readiness from any angle (e.g., one-two-three strikes flowing into kicks or throws), maintaining natural distance, and embodying a yūgen-like subtlety (“幽玄の世界 Yūgen no Sekai—the profound, mysterious, elegant realm of depth and nuance, evoking Ono no Komachi’s poetic aesthetic applied to budo) [6]. The practitioner floats weightlessly, aligns naturally with the opponent’s flow without forcing, and wins by not clashing directly—creating openings through misdirection and psychological pressure.

Daikomyōsai (December 2-4’th 2003) Budo of Zero

In the 2003 Daikomyosai seminar—titled “Budo of Zero” and loosely connected to the year’s overarching Juppō Sesshō theme—Masaaki Hatsumi Soke structured the event as a three-day gathering. Each day followed the same rhythm: a two-hour morning training session, a break for lunch, and then another two-hour afternoon session. This consistent daily format allowed participants to immerse deeply in the material without the pressure of a single long marathon day. Hatsumi used the occasion to reflect on more than twenty-one years of traveling abroad to teach Bujinkan material, noting that he had now deliberately ended those international journeys. The decision marked a turning point: he wanted the group to witness, through his own example, what dedicated training looks like when the focus returns entirely to the home dojo and external obligations fall away. Rather than announce a single overarching theme for the entire seminar, he stated plainly that there would be no fixed theme. The absence of a rigid framework gave the days an open, exploratory quality while still allowing every demonstration and correction to circle back repeatedly to the same essential principles.

相 手 を 多 め に 利 用 す る こ と ね 。 人 間 を ね 。 そ れ を 神 通 の 実 と い う ね 。
Aite o ōme ni riyō suru koto ne. Ningen o ne. Sore o jintsū no mi to iu ne.

Use the opponent a lot more. Use human beings. That is called the reality of divine penetration

Across the six training hours spread over the three days, Hatsumi guided live demonstrations that wove together unarmed techniques, joint manipulations, redirects, and the practical use of hidden or improvised weapons. He returned again and again to the concept of “zero” as the true center of budo. This zero is not mere absence or passivity; it is the precise point where personal agenda, conscious effort, and fixed intention completely dissolve. He explained that authentic technique arises only when the practitioner stops trying to force outcomes or manufacture movements. Any attempt to “make” something happen—through tension, over-planning, or visible exertion—immediately breaks the flow and reveals the flaw. Instead, the defender must allow the opponent’s own actions, momentum, and energy to become the primary driver of the encounter. Hatsumi described this as using the opponent far more than oneself, turning the attacker into the active agent of their own neutralization. He called this principle “the reality of divine penetration[7],” a term that captures how the defender can let the incoming force pass through harmlessly or redirect itself without the need for direct opposition or overpowering strength.

相 手 に 隠 れ る こ と も 覚 え る ね 。
Aite ni kakureru koto mo oboeru ne.

Learn to hide within the opponent as well.

A recurring instruction was to learn how to “hide within the opponent.” Rather than positioning oneself as a separate, opposing entity, the practitioner should blend so seamlessly with the attacker’s movement and perception that no clear target remains. In practice this looked like subtle entries that placed the defender alongside or behind the incoming line of force, causing the opponent to strike at empty space or to overcommit and unbalance themselves. Hatsumi extended this idea to scenarios with multiple attackers, emphasizing that the principle never changes regardless of numbers. Whether facing one person or many, the same zero-point awareness applies: the defender does not need to recalculate or shift strategy because the dynamic at the core remains identical. He encouraged everyone to recognize that literally everything in the environment—opponents’ bodies, the surrounding space, incidental objects—can be utilized if the mind stays unattached and responsive. This mindset of total availability is what allows the practitioner to adapt instantaneously without preconceived patterns.

Hatsumi also placed strong emphasis on moving beyond reliance on sight and hearing. He repeatedly told the group to stop depending on visual tracking of the opponent’s limbs or listening for audible cues such as footsteps or breathing shifts. Instead, true awareness comes through sensation distributed across the entire body and spirit. He demonstrated this by softening his own posture, relaxing the gaze, and responding to incoming pressure through subtle shifts in balance and contact rather than deliberate blocks or counters. In one sequence he showed how a light touch at the right moment could redirect a powerful grab or strike without any muscular tightening. Techniques such as omote gyaku appeared frequently as entry points, but he stressed that the real learning lay in controlling direction and posture in multiple ways afterward, always without force. The goal was to internalize the feeling so completely that action flowed naturally from the whole being rather than from isolated parts or premeditated plans.

視 覚 、 聴 覚 に 頼 ら な い で ね 。 体 全 体 を 感 で も っ て ね 。
Shikaku, chōkaku ni tayoranai de ne. Karada zentai o kan de motte ne.

Don’t rely on your eyes or ears. Rely on the whole body through feeling.

Weapons, especially small concealed ones like shuriken, featured prominently in the demonstrations. Hatsumi pointed out that these tools become truly effective only when the user understands exactly how to employ them in the instant of need, without hesitation or overthinking. The shinobi approach, he explained, involves treating a wide range of implements as natural extensions of movement rather than as specialized or sacred objects. He urged the group to practice inserting control at the precise moment the opponent advances, using the attacker’s own limbs or forward drive to create exploitable openings. In several instances he verbally highlighted dangerous anatomical targets—the base of the skull, the lower spine—then immediately clarified that the purpose of naming them was to build awareness of vulnerability without ever intending actual harm. The caution itself became part of the lesson: by acknowledging risk while maintaining restraint, the practitioner develops both precision and compassion.

Throughout the three days Hatsumi maintained a tone of gentle humor and encouragement. At one point he remarked that the training had gone very well because no one had died, a wry observation that highlighted his consistent priority on intelligent, non-destructive practice that achieves decisive control without unnecessary escalation. He praised the participants for their effort, noting that technical skill was already well established among those present. From this foundation, he said, the deeper work now lay in cultivating the internal feeling of budo itself. Everyone should continue practicing in a manner that places sensation above external form, allowing the body and spirit to respond as a single, unified whole. He closed the seminar by reinforcing the value of this quality of awareness: cherish the direct experience that emerges when sight and hearing are set aside, and let the ongoing practice become the true guide.

危 な い っ て 言 っ て お く 。
Abunai tte itte oku.

I’m saying it’s dangerous (so aim there, but don’t actually do it).

The Daikomyosai carried a sense of both culmination and quiet transition. Hatsumi described the event as especially meaningful because it marked the final taikai in its previous format. The lack of a prescribed theme allowed each day’s sessions to breathe freely while still converging on the same unchanging truths: erase personal intention, conceal oneself within the opponent’s flow, utilize every element without force, depend on whole-body feeling rather than fragmented senses, and hold zero as the unchanging center regardless of external conditions. Through repeated live examples—joint entries, weapon handling, multi-attacker drills, and subtle redirects—Hatsumi illustrated that genuine budo is never about stockpiling techniques or dominating through strength. It is about removing the separation between self and other until movement arises spontaneously, effortlessly, and inevitably from the still point of zero. The three days of training closed with a clear message: keep returning to this depth of feeling, value the intuitive connection that arises beyond ordinary perception, and allow the practice to continue teaching itself.

い い 稽 古 を し て く だ さ い ま し た 、 皆 さ ん ね 。
Ii keiko o shite kudasaimashita, minasan ne.

You all did really good training.

Footnotes

  1. I also hear him say “Hiden Denshō”, but the painting says 秘巻伝照 Hikan Denshō, the same as the DVD series (28 volumes from trainings in 2003-2006), The secret scrolls are transmitted in such a way that they shine forth / become illuminated in the practitioner. ↩
  2. 打つ人も 打たれる人も もろともに ただ一時の 夢の戯れ
    Utsu hito mo / utaruru hito mo / morotomo ni / tada hitotoki no / yume no tawamure
    “Both the one who strikes / and the one who is struck / together / are merely / a momentary play in a dream.”
    The poem Hatsumi Sōke is quoting is a well-known waka (Japanese poem) attributed to the Rinzai Zen monk Muso Kokushi (夢窓国師, 1275–1351), also known as Muso Soseki. It is often cited in Zen and martial arts contexts to illustrate impermanence (mujō) and non-duality.
    ↩
  3. This is a classic Hatsumi teaching on 機の法 ki no hō (the law of opportunity) or 機を見る ki o miru (seeing the opportunity). In Juppō Sesshō it emphasizes not attacking mechanically or predictably, but waiting for the precise instant when the opponent’s balance, intent, or structure is momentarily broken — then striking decisively. It’s about reading the “weak point in time” rather than just a physical weak point. ↩
  4. 横山大観 Yokoyama Taikan; born Sakai Hidemaro, November 2, 1868 – February 26, 1958) was one of Japan’s most influential and celebrated painters of the modern era. He was a leading figure in the Nihonga movement (traditional Japanese-style painting), which sought to revitalize and innovate upon classical techniques while incorporating some Western influences. ↩
  5. A Japanese proverb literally meaning “a lie is also an expedient means” or “even a lie can be a skillful method.” It originates from Buddhist teachings, particularly the concept of 方便 (hōben), which translates the Sanskrit “upāya” (means/method to approach/attain truth). In Buddhism (e.g., the Lotus Sutra’s “three carts, burning house” parable), a compassionate “white lie” or skillful device is used by the Buddha/wise teacher to guide beings toward enlightenment or safety when direct truth would not be understood or accepted. ↩
  6. 幽玄 (yūgen) is a profound aesthetic ideal in Japanese traditional arts, especially Noh theater (能楽), refined by Zeami Motokiyo (世阿弥) in the 14th–15th centuries. It describes a subtle, mysterious, elegant beauty that is deep, elusive, and hard to express in words — evoking a sense of profound depth, quiet grace, and hidden resonance beneath the surface. “Yū” suggests something faint/obscure/distant, and “gen” implies profound/mysterious/dark. ↩
  7. “the reality of divine penetration”: そ れ を 神 通 の 実 と い う ね (Sore o jintsū no mi to iu ne). “神通” (jintsū) refers to supernatural or divine powers/penetration (a Buddhist term for miraculous abilities or insight that penetrates reality). “の実” (no mi) means “the fruit” or “the reality/essence” of something. So the English interpreter rendered it naturally as “the reality of divine penetration,” which captures the idea of penetrating/using the opponent’s own force or existence as if with divine/supernatural efficacy. ↩

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Takamatsu Sensei taught Hatsumi Sōke with 42 hands

From 8þ Kabutoshimen by admin

At the training yesterday Sōke said that he had been taught by the 42 hands of Takamatsu Sensei. He was referring to 千手千眼観自在菩薩 Senju-sengen Kanjizai Bosatsu that had 1000 hands and 1000 eyes. The deity emphasizes the compassion that sees suffering (with 1000 eyes) and acts to relieve it (with 1000 hands).

千手観音Senju Kannon appears in the 虚空蔵院 Kokūzōin of the 胎蔵界曼荼羅 Taizōkai Mandara, with 27 faces and 42 main arms, while innumerable small arms fan out behind. Since it is difficult to portray one thousand arms, images usually show Senju with two principle arms in 合掌印 Gasshō-in (Sk: anjali mudra) in front of his chest and 40 arms, holding attributes and forming mudra, on the sides (altogether 42 arms, or shijūnihi 四十二臂). This number can be justified because each hand saves the beings of 25 worlds, and 40 times the 25 equals 1000.

Takamatsu Sensei died when Hatsumi Sōke was 42 years old. 42 years later we had a big Taikai in Japan to celebrate Takamatsu Sensei and starting a new cycle. In Japanese culture, the number 42 is considered unlucky because the numerals when pronounced separately—shi ni (four two)—sound like the word “death”.

Many cultures around the world recognise the number 42 in interesting ways.

There are 42 questions asked of persons making their journey through Death in the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead.

42 is the number with which God creates the Universe in Kabbalistic tradition.

42 is also the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything according Douglas Adams in his science fiction book Hitchhikers Guide to the galaxy.

Funny fact; in 1996 Cambridge astronomers said that Adams was right. Dr Richard Saunders, who led the research, sounded a trifle abashed by the result. “We have taken two measurements for the constant, and the average of them is, well, it’s 42.”

Sōke showed us antique small miniature weapons. He said it is important to appreciate the quality and details, and we should study them.

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文殊 MONJU – Bujinkan Theme 2018

From 8þ Kabutoshimen by admin

文殊 MONJU (Guardian of the Law, Voice of the Law) is one of many meanings. Monju is considered the wisest of the Bodhisattva, and thus acts as the Voice (Expounder) of Buddhist Law.

Japanese sculptures of Monju often depict the deity sitting atop a roaring lion or shishi, which symbolizes the voice of Buddhist Law and the power of Buddhism to overcome all obstacles. Shishi are also commonly found guarding the entrance gate to shrines and temples. Monju typically holds the Sutra of Wisdom in the left hand and a sharp sword in the right, which Monju uses to cut through illusion and shed light on the unenlightened mind. In some artwork, Monju carries a lotus flower and sits atop a shishi (mythical lion).

Monju’s cult was introduced to Japan by Ennin 圓仁 (794-864 AD; also spelled 円仁), a Japanese monk who visited Wutaishan (a five-terraced mountain in China’s Shanxi Province that today is still a major center of the Monju cult) during his travels to China (838-847 AD).

Mañjuśrī is a bodhisattva associated with prajñā (insight) in Mahayana Buddhism. In Tibetan Buddhism, he is also a yidam. His name means “Gentle Glory” in Sanskrit.[1] Mañjuśrī is also known by the fuller name of Mañjuśrīkumārabhūta,[2] literally “Mañjuśrī, Still a Youth” or, less literally, “Prince Mañjuśrī”.

A mantra commonly associated with Mañjuśrī is the following:

oṃ arapacana dhīḥ
The Arapacana is a syllabary consisting of forty-two letters, and is named after the first five letters: a, ra, pa, ca, na

A is a door to the insight that all dharmas are unproduced from the very beginning (ādya-anutpannatvād).
RA is a door to the insight that all dharmas are without dirt (rajas).
PA is a door to the insight that all dharmas have been expounded in the ultimate sense (paramārtha).
CA is a door to the insight that the decrease (cyavana) or rebirth of any dharma cannot be apprehended, because all dharmas do not decrease, nor are they reborn.
NA is a door to the insight that the names (i.e. nāma) of all dharmas have vanished; the essential nature behind names cannot be gained or lost.

Tibetan pronunciation is slightly different and so the Tibetan characters read: oṃ a ra pa tsa na dhīḥ (Tibetan: ༀ་ཨ་ར་པ་ཙ་ན་དྷཱི༔, Wylie: om a ra pa tsa na d+hIH).[14] In Tibetan tradition, this mantra is believed to enhance wisdom and improve one’s skills in debating, memory, writing, and other literary abilities. “Dhīḥ” is the seed syllable of the mantra and is chanted with greater emphasis and also repeated a number of times as a decrescendo.

Bujinkan Keiko 2018
As far as the training goes, it is basically the same as previous years. A lot of Mūtō-dori against knife, sword and rokushakubō. Very often Sōke uses his fingers to “walk” across the hands, which finally captures a finger lock. He makes the attacker to forget he got a weapon in his hand and he just pick it out of the hand of the surprised Uke.

Even when it is Taijutsu, the concept of Mūtō-dori is the same principles used.

More about Monju.
More about Manjushri.

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