Japan... A country that lost the war. Devastation, depression, hatred for the whole world...
It's hard. It's hard to write. Because in this country I t and experienced my strangest and most incredible adventure. And this adventure was called Morihei Ueshiba. O-Sensei of Aikido.
When I first arrived in the country, I didn't even expect anything out of the ordinary. I just wanted to slightly expand my horizons in martial arts, look at the masters, maybe learn sothing if the opportunity arose.
I visited several Karate dojos, the central Judo dojo. I didn't even morize the nas of the styles, since it was roughly the sa everywhere: hostility, unwillingness to share "secrets of mastery" with a gaijin, a sense of rivalry, arrogance, superiority. In two places, they even challenged to a fight. I managed to wriggle out of one. The other I had to fight. Not a fight, so kind of mockery: an ordinary, albeit well, but not brilliantly trained person weighing sixty or seventy kilograms against a twice-modified mutant weighing a hundred and twenty-five kilos... What kind of fight is that? And considering that I've been training about three tis longer than he's even been alive... My only thought was not to cripple him.
And with such sad experience, I ca to this man's dojo. And... I was gladly allowed to join the class. For the first ti ever, in all my experience communicating with various martial arts schools, I was gladly allowed to join the class! A foreigner! Not for a fight with the master, not for a test to see if I'm worthy to be a student, not for so show-off where you won't see any "secrets of mastery" anyway. No! I was simply let into the dojo, for a regular class conducted by the master with his students. And not just to watch, but to actually participate!
Naturally, I agreed! It would be the greatest folly to miss such luck.
And then he appeared—Morihei. A little old man—a dandelion puffball, one ter fifty-seven tall, weighing forty-five kilograms at most, gray-haired, with a soft little beard, a clear gaze, and the childlike smile of a half-toothless mouth.
Observing all the etiquette required for the occasion, he began the class. Warm-up, breakfalls...
And then he invited not one of his senior students as a partner for demonstrating techniques, but ! He even rejoiced that fate had sent him such a large and strong uke for today's class. Because it would be more visual that way. And a foreigner to boot, which ant that upon returning to my country, I would carry the mory of the way of aiki with , and maybe interest soone else.
At this class, I don't know if by chance or not, a photojournalist was present. And I later bought several of his photographs and keep them as my greatest treasure. In one of them, O-Sensei and I are standing on the tatami facing each other, bowing politely. A behemoth, a mountain of muscle, two ters tall, and a grandfather in a white kimono and white hakama, just over a ter and a half tall, puny and venerable. It looks funny and ridiculous, but what boundless respect I feel for this man. I would call him a superhuman, but that would be an insult to him. He was exactly human, one hundred percent, without mutations, enhancents, modifications, or magic, but how much he surpassed anyone I knew!
So, Morihei asked to attack him however it was convenient for , in any way. I, honestly speaking, was taken aback: my strike is very powerful. As an example, I can cite one incident from military practice. Once I had to fight a very nimble vampire near a forever-silenced German "Tiger." So, the little vampire was very nimble, and when I struck, I didn't hit him—I missed. The blow landed right on the frontal armor of the war machine. And the armor... cracked. I didn't punch through it, but I cracked it. The frontal armor of a "Tiger"... And here in front of is an elderly man. He seems to be a master, should dodge sohow. But what if he doesn't? What if I clip him, just a bit?
He read this uncertainty in my eyes easily. And understood it correctly. Therefore, he smiled and suggested I just try to grab him... at least try.
Well, that's a completely different matter! I smiled and darted forward sharply. With the sa smile on my face, I t the floor. Didn't even understand how. But I hit it solidly, so much so that it knocked the wind out of . And the old man is already back in a ready position, gesturing for to continue.
And I continued. For almost ten minutes I tried to grab this slippery old man, and most importantly, I almost grabbed him, and sotis not even almost... In short, for ten minutes he tossed around however he wanted, with a swing, with a twist, flying, moving forward, moving backward, with amplitude and shortly...
And he finished this whole performance with pain control. Imagine: I am lying sprawled on the floor once again, and the dry, venerable grandfather holds my twisted arm in a cunning way, interestingly distributing the weight sohow... And I cannot get up!
It doesn't hurt much, but I can't get up!!! The old man weighs forty-five kilograms at most, while I can lift five tons without straining after Schmidt's modification. Why, I can overturn a "Tiger" (verified on that very "nimble" vampire: I squashed him with the "Tiger" that ti).
Forty-five kilograms—it's not even funny. It's lifting with one finger. But he holds, and I can't get up!!! I try with all my might, but the result is zero. It's almost offensively frustrating, to the point of tears. And such a feeling of helplessness, like the first ti in my life.
Acknowledging my defeat, I tapped my palm on the tatami and Morihei let go. He stands, smiles, explains sothing to the students. And I stood up, state shocked, admiration at the "off the charts" mark.
I bowed from the waist to this incredible man, with all the respect I was capable of, and asked for permission to be his student. Prepared to persist for a month, two, a year, but to get my way.
And he just nodded and sent to my place, to the other students, adding that I should watch carefully and not cripple the senpais.
Thus began my apprenticeship. Which I do not regret for a second.
Morihei... I was with him until his death in 1969. You might ask, why, possessing the secret of the super soldier serum and the ability to reproduce it, did I still let such an outstanding person die?
I couldn't inject him with it! And the last liar will be the one who says I didn't try! But, Morihei, this is not Stalin or Peggy Carter for you. Not once in all eighteen years did I manage to catch him off guard. Let alone pin him down when he's ready for an attack... And the most interesting thing is, he never once took offense at my attempted attacks. He said it adds color to his life and helps him improve. When I directly offered him to "shoot up" the elixir of youth, he just laughed. But then he warned that if I used it on soone close to him before him, he would be mortally offended.
He was a funny man. Cheerful, open, active, as if he had a motor attached to his back. Terribly resembled a child with his inquisitiveness and so incredible enlightennt, or sothing. Loved to travel around Japan very much. Visited remote dojos where his students practiced and taught Aikido. I went with him. And that, let tell you, was quite a hassle. He arrives at the train at least an hour before departure. Waits for it. And then might not take it at all, because he didn't like sothing, and what—is unclear.
You walk with him down the street, calmly, not rushing anywhere, and suddenly he darts, and go find him in the crowd and alleys, and he is fast! Never mind that vampire. Ask him later where he bolted to, he'll only smile.
He also had a habit of spending all his money on the road, completely. Moreover, he always knew exactly how much his wife gave to his accompanying student. Even though she never told him...
Once a group of army snipers ca to his training, and he got talking to them, saying a bullet isn't scary to him, and got talking so much that the very next day he went with them to the shooting range. Signed papers waiving claims, stood in front of the target twenty-three ters from the shooters, and began to wait for the shot.
They shot, and he's not there anymore, he's standing behind their backs. How so? He didn't say. Vaguely explained that, he says, he demonstrated the power of aiki... If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it. But the thing is, I saw it myself.
And the philosophy of his school was amazing: a complete rejection of competitiveness, a complete absence of forbidden techniques, a complete absence of aggression and attack, but a striving for harmony with the world, with oneself, and... with the partner. There isn't even such a concept as "enemy" or "opponent" in this philosophy. Only "partner," the one who helps to learn, the one who makes you better. "Uke"—the one who gives power, the one who gives movent, creates the attack, and "Nage"—the one who receives and redirects the power, the movent, the one who harmonizes and neutralizes the attacking action of the "uke." Sothing like that.
I couldn't understand the full depth of this philosophy, although I tried very hard. Over eighteen years next to O-Sensei, I mastered the technique very well, officially received the sixth dan with the right to teach, but... I couldn't teach anyone Aikido afterwards. I didn't consider myself to have the right. Without a deep understanding of the essence, the technique will not bring that "benefit to the world" that O-Sensei kept talking about.
In the last days of Morihei's life, during an attempt to finally inject him with the super soldier serum (moreover, three of his closest students were helping ), he scattered us all against the walls with a light and effortless movent. Solidly so, from the heart.
And he threw so successfully that I flew right onto that syringe myself. Chest first. My heart right onto the needle. And while falling, I pressed the plunger. So, the whole dose, not a drop missed...
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