Daydream » VKook

11. Serendipity

I was three months into my Kendo training. I was eating, sleeping and breathing Kendo. My father required all students to attend the sessions three times a week. However, on top of that, I came by the training facility for an extra two days to train by myself. I also added cardio and strength training to my regimen to build up my endurance. I wanted to be stronger, better and faster through every training session, to show to my father that I was serious about this sport. It truly became a part of my life.

I mastered all of the basics like bowing and sitting within three days after the first session. With all of that practice, they were essentially programmed in my brain, which made it come naturally to me. For the basics of the shinai—the sword, like wearing it (taito) and drawing it out (chudan), it required additional practice to perform those smoothly. Many times I had dropped the sword or it slipped out of my hand. Even the placements were important to comprehend and memorize.

The different techniques of footwork were especially the hardest to master. The most important and difficult to master was the okuri-ashi. The inability to perform this technique perfectly would negate the whole purpose of doing Kendo properly. The right foot is the front foot and the left foot is the back foot. I couldn't use my right foot to go backward or vice versa with the left foot unable to go forward. I even got a little crafty and drew out all of the footwork onto a bamboo mat, so I could practice and memorize them.

In addition, I had to understand the commands in Japanese to know when to start (hajime), move forward (mae), move backward (ato), and end (yame). Because of Kendo, I believed I could understand and speak Japanese well. Since my father was also Japanese, I couldn't escape it since he often spoke the language at home. My mother knew a few words, but we all communicated in Korean.

There were so many terms and techniques that I had to keep a notebook of all Kendo terms with their translation and meaning. I got things color-coded and everything. If there was one thing I could do well besides Kendo, it was process management and organization. Note that I didn't say time management because I had been late one or two more times in the last three months. But hey, those punishments like more pull-ups and pulling around seven kids tied together in one long rope around the gym all made me stronger.

One Sunday afternoon, I planned to get out of the house for more Kendo practice, until my father called out to me as I was leaving the front door.

"Son! Please come here."

I looked back to see my father sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper and enjoying his lunch.

"Yes, appa?"

"Where are you going today?" He curiously asked.

"Um to the training facility to practice some more." My reply was straightforward.

"No, you are not to go there today." My father stated.

I raised an eyebrow at him. He had never prohibited me from going to train more like this before. I waited there a bit longer to see if my father was going to provide an explanation, but he continued to finish his food.

"Okay, so why can't I?" I annoyingly asked.

"You are to come with me." He replied.

"Where am I going with you?"

Again he didn't answer me right away. He folded the newspaper, then stood up to place his dirty dish and utensils in the sink. He diligently washed his hands and dried them by shaking the excess water into the sink. He looked at me with a puzzling face as if I wasn't confused myself.