2011-12-13T18:00:00.000-08:00

It was about 9:30 PM on a hot and muggy summer night. He was still sweating heavily after a strenuous workout at the training hall, which is known as a dojo. In the martial arts discipline he was involved in there were practitioners, known as kenshi, and teachers, who are called sensei. On this particular night he was a sensei and demonstrated the basics to two new enrollees and advanced techniques with eight others. No one in the group, excluding him, was over 22 years old. He was 57 at the time.

At the end of the 90 minute workout, his training uniform, or dogi was so heavy and full of perspiration that he had to go outside and wring the top and bottom of the dogi with all the strength left in his hands, wrist, and arms for nearly five minutes. After putting them in a large plastic sack and into his gym bag, he changed and was ready to lock up and go home. The sensei is often the last one to leave.

The dojo was only a ten minute walk from his house in Numazu City, Japan. The walk to and back was an ideal short warm-up and warm-down for him, and he rather enjoyed it. But after walking for a couple of minutes and approaching a small neighborhood park, he felt prickling sensations under his skin, and his eyes and ears strained with sudden heightened awareness of something behind one of the a large trees ahead. Danger lurked ahead, and he could almost taste its dark, damp, and furious approach.

Not breaking stride and keeping his balance centered on his feet to be able to maneuver in any direction, he acted as if he was unaware of anything ahead of him. He was not a large man, slightly under 170 centimeters (about 5.6 feet), and weighed about 63 kilograms (139 pounds). After taking seven more steps, suddenly appearing from behind a tree about ten feet ahead was a monstrously large figure. He was at least 6’ 5” tall and weighed well over two hundred pounds, without noticeable excess fat. It was easy to sense the tightness of his jaws as he grit his teeth to expose protruding veins in his neck. The shoulders were slumped slightly forward, and the large arms were noticeable, particularly the right one leading to a hand in a semi-clench.

A couple of seconds remained before first impact. He could sense the air intake of the man’s breathing as it was shallow and rapid. After the first volley, the man’s breathing would hinder him. He didn’t make eye contact and looked straight ahead while focusing on his peripheral vision, which was quite keen. He already visualized the confrontation, but wanted to verify if the attacker had “club” mates to the sides or to the rear. No, only calm and peaceful rhythms existed in those areas. So this big guy was all alone, and was not displaying any weapons. The attacker’s movement quickened, and the man’s balance was on the balls of his feet. Slim chance of a lethal kick. Coming very soon was the lurch and a crushing right fist angling down toward the center of his face. It would be easy to simply dodge the blow and have the attacker hit the ground after completely losing balance, but that would not stop the attack.

The big right hand came exactly as expected with a magnificent whoosh of air going by. The kenshi swung his weight to his hind right foot with just the right amount of arc to his hip going to the right, allowing his face to disappear as a target just before impact. While doing this, his left arm guarded his face as his right hand clenched at chest level causing the flesh of his inner left arm to expand and tighten to block the blow if necessary, or strike down to ward off a sudden kick. As the punch was angling down at his face because the attacker was so tall, he let the guy’s arm extend after missing and before it was possible to withdraw the arm, the kenshi used his left arm to angle the attacker’s right arm toward his left shoulder, exposing the attacker’s right rib cage to counterattack. Sliding his right foot a couple of inches forward and arcing the hip to the left, he hit a pin-point right hand shot into a pressure point between the attacker’s ribs and withdrew his arm instantly. He did not want to impact inward with a twisting shot as that could easily break the man’s ribs. His aim was only to stop the attack.

The huge attacker winced and screamed while his head was considerably lower from the pain of the blow. But it did not look like the attack would stop. The kenshi arced his hip back to the right for a quick razor left hand shot to a pressure point in front of the fellow’s ear which was well within reach now. The man was starting to inhale now, and at that instant, the kenshi arced left while sliding the back right foot slightly for an upward angle commanding right hand shot between the attacker’s ribs, just below the breast-bone. There was no need for the angled, slicing right kick which was to follow.

The guy hit the deck like a dropped bowling ball. Foamy froth started dripping from his mouth. The kenshi knelt down to work the pressure points to revive him. He wondered what caused this big fellow to attempt such a foolish attack. The technique used was a very basic one. It is one of the first taught in a Shorinji Kempo dojo. He felt sorry for the man and the position he was in. He was not pleased that he was forced to do what he did.

All his moves were almost automatic, and working as a reflex. After constant training in the basics, the moves, timing, distance, speed, angles, and all pertinent factors click together.

Furious Approach of Sudden Danger