Todd Lambert
2nd November 2006, 08:57
From Metropolis Magazine (http://metropolis.co.jp/tokyo/recent/feature.asp) comes this...
The Samurai in Shirokanedai
Mikio Yahara fights to keep the spirit of budo alive in the 21st century
Courtesy of KWF
There’s something special in the Barbizon 25 building in Shirokanedai, and it’s not just Mario Frittoli’s modern Italian restaurant, Luxor, where the melodic chink of glass against glass, crockery against cutlery, and the murmur of conviviality are the sounds of a typical Saturday afternoon. Instead, go down to the basement and put your ear to the door for the thwack of a leg swiping through the air, or the smack of flesh against wood and against flesh, and sudden, heart-stopping shouts—the sounds of the pursuit of the killing blow.
Inside the spotless dojo there stalks a figure clutching a long shinai (training stick). When he kicks, he tears up space. His punches are thunderclaps. He barks, and a dozen black-belted men and women fly at each other. It’s impossible not to be affected by his presence. He walks into a room and heads turn. He’s a panther that will rip you to shreds. The knuckles on his hams are covered in layer upon layer of scar tissue. Arms with iron rods for bones and muscles of knotted wood jut from the sleeves of his blood-stained uniform. The jaw is that of the Terminator. And the eyes? The eyes are knives.
There is also artistry here. The man talks about unsu, or “cloud hand,” perhaps the most beautiful and challenging of traditional karate kata, the patterns of movements used to show mastery of technique. In unsu, the performer instantly switches from an artist of graceful, flowing movements to a human pile driver, and the kata is defined by a leap and feline twist that ends in a sprinter’s crouch. In hundreds of demonstrations, this man was unsu, and unsu was his. With it, in 1984, he became world champion, and of it, he is the undisputed master.
This man is Mikio Yahara. As a trainee instructor, he was so poor he’d drink bottles of water flavored with salt, soy and sugar to fill his stomach. Born in Ehime Prefecture in 1947, the fourth brother of a family of local samurai, he rose through the old Japan Karate Association (JKA) to become arguably the most gifted fighter of his era. This was the man who taught Yukio Mishima karate, which literally means “the ways of the empty hand.” Fashion designer Yohji Yamamoto is both his pupil and the chairman of his karate organization. And now, at 59, he is his own master and commander, but still the enfant terrible of his generation.
Courtesy of KWF
Legends surround Yahara. In fact, he’s still making headlines. This April, Gekkan Karatedo, Japan’s most respected traditional karate magazine, in an article entitled “The Return of the Legend!,” printed 22 pages of stories and photographs of him as blood-splattered warrior, as Adonis, and as a would-be karate assassin, dispatching people with kicks to the head.
Talking with Metropolis, he’s introspectively philosophical, describing the meaning of budo and karate, and his concept of death: “You never know, someone may come to this dojo to try to kill me. So be it. When I take that fight, I will be prepared to die. Yahara means ‘no escape.’ I will throw one killing attack. That is definite. That is the only way.”
Yahara is a born fighter; this is a little of his story.
The story continues (http://metropolis.co.jp/tokyo/recent/feature.asp).
A link (http://www.kwf.jp/yahara640_480_e.html) to some video on his website.
The Samurai in Shirokanedai
Mikio Yahara fights to keep the spirit of budo alive in the 21st century
Courtesy of KWF
There’s something special in the Barbizon 25 building in Shirokanedai, and it’s not just Mario Frittoli’s modern Italian restaurant, Luxor, where the melodic chink of glass against glass, crockery against cutlery, and the murmur of conviviality are the sounds of a typical Saturday afternoon. Instead, go down to the basement and put your ear to the door for the thwack of a leg swiping through the air, or the smack of flesh against wood and against flesh, and sudden, heart-stopping shouts—the sounds of the pursuit of the killing blow.
Inside the spotless dojo there stalks a figure clutching a long shinai (training stick). When he kicks, he tears up space. His punches are thunderclaps. He barks, and a dozen black-belted men and women fly at each other. It’s impossible not to be affected by his presence. He walks into a room and heads turn. He’s a panther that will rip you to shreds. The knuckles on his hams are covered in layer upon layer of scar tissue. Arms with iron rods for bones and muscles of knotted wood jut from the sleeves of his blood-stained uniform. The jaw is that of the Terminator. And the eyes? The eyes are knives.
There is also artistry here. The man talks about unsu, or “cloud hand,” perhaps the most beautiful and challenging of traditional karate kata, the patterns of movements used to show mastery of technique. In unsu, the performer instantly switches from an artist of graceful, flowing movements to a human pile driver, and the kata is defined by a leap and feline twist that ends in a sprinter’s crouch. In hundreds of demonstrations, this man was unsu, and unsu was his. With it, in 1984, he became world champion, and of it, he is the undisputed master.
This man is Mikio Yahara. As a trainee instructor, he was so poor he’d drink bottles of water flavored with salt, soy and sugar to fill his stomach. Born in Ehime Prefecture in 1947, the fourth brother of a family of local samurai, he rose through the old Japan Karate Association (JKA) to become arguably the most gifted fighter of his era. This was the man who taught Yukio Mishima karate, which literally means “the ways of the empty hand.” Fashion designer Yohji Yamamoto is both his pupil and the chairman of his karate organization. And now, at 59, he is his own master and commander, but still the enfant terrible of his generation.
Courtesy of KWF
Legends surround Yahara. In fact, he’s still making headlines. This April, Gekkan Karatedo, Japan’s most respected traditional karate magazine, in an article entitled “The Return of the Legend!,” printed 22 pages of stories and photographs of him as blood-splattered warrior, as Adonis, and as a would-be karate assassin, dispatching people with kicks to the head.
Talking with Metropolis, he’s introspectively philosophical, describing the meaning of budo and karate, and his concept of death: “You never know, someone may come to this dojo to try to kill me. So be it. When I take that fight, I will be prepared to die. Yahara means ‘no escape.’ I will throw one killing attack. That is definite. That is the only way.”
Yahara is a born fighter; this is a little of his story.
The story continues (http://metropolis.co.jp/tokyo/recent/feature.asp).
A link (http://www.kwf.jp/yahara640_480_e.html) to some video on his website.