Ishimaru

by Louis Rosas

  The pivotal moment came as Connors sat there against the side of a building in the rain-soaked alleyway that he had been thrown into. There out of nowhere, a small military shuttle passed over the concrete canyon of the long trash-strewn alleyway. The roar of the shuttle’s engine nacelles came to a slow halt as it landed on a pad close by before blending in with the winter rain.

  ‘How different my life could have been,’ he thought before resigning himself to his sorry state.

  Connors hung his head low to tune the world out until he heard the sounds of dress shoes entering the alleyway.

  “Stop for a second,” said an older male voice.

  “You know this man, Sir?” asked another man.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. Help him up,” said the elder sounding man.

  “Yes, Sir,” he replied.

  Connors felt the strong hands of two men lifting his arms and propping to an upright seated position against the red brick wall he had been leaning against. As he opened his eyes, he noticed a pair of polished black dress shoes standing in front of him. To his shock and sense of shame, he looked up and realized who it was standing in front of him extending his hand to get Connors up off the ground.

  Standing there in a long black raincoat covering his dark naval uniform and rain covered officer’s cap stood his late girlfriend Leanne’s father, a highly decorated naval line officer and Rear Admiral nearing retirement who spoke to him with repose:

  “Son, you need to get yourself ship-shape and get it in gear. I know you’re hurt. We’re all hurt. You’re just going to have to be a man and work this through. Drinking isn’t going to do you any good. Life will go on and so must you,” he recalled him saying.

  The sight of such a high ranking distinguished naval officer offering his hand at what seemed the lowest moment of his life had left Connors in awe. He accepted his hand and stood up and unconsciously saluted.

  “Sooner than later son, you’re going to have to find your way. That’s all I have to say,” said the admiral before he departed looking up to the gray skies as he walked away.

  Connors wasn’t quite sure how or why this all happened. Call it Dharma, or simply fate, this event came as if meant to leave him humbled by the experience. It woke the young man up and forced him to find the will to live again. From the wake of that incident in the alleyway, Connors sobered up and found the resolve and determination he needed to start his life over and get through his grief. Connors had briefly met Leanne’s father at her funeral, but he had never seen him in uniform before that fateful day.

  ‘What an awe-inspiring sight!’ he thought.

  With most of his money gone and nowhere else to go since his last firing, he thought about the sight of the shuttle that had passed overhead and thought to himself, why not? What did he have to lose at his age? Considering his options, he made the bold choice to enlist in the service and passed an entrance exam for a chance at a career that would take him from beyond his sorrows to the rigors of the structured military life of adventure.

  During his years in the service, Connors would fulfill his dream of going into space and to the desired posting in Japan. It was there while he was stationed at Kadena Air Base on Okinawa that he by chance allowed his self-avowed wingman Tom Mathews to talk him into attending a Japanese Martial Arts Exhibition being held at the base indoor basketball court. What Connors did not know at the time was how this one moment would impact his future to his present day.

  It seemed like yesterday when Connors had just finished his morning meal and stepped out of the mess hall. He was dressed in his black PT pants, t-shirt, and matching hoodie all displaying the emblem of his squadron onto the wet tarmac of Kadena Air Base. At six feet in stature, he cut a chiseled silhouette of a man who had moved forward with his life. The morning rains of that day had given way to crisp air and the emerging blue skies over Okinawa. By all accounts, it was to be a beautiful day. But for Connors, it would be more than he bargained for.

  Connors was then a budding flight engineer aboard the venerable C-333 or as her crews liked to call them the “Triple C“ Heavy Starlifter. This was the workhorse of the American military that could make suborbital hyper-flights to deliverer payloads to low orbiting outposts and combat drops to any point on the globe within minutes. To gain a spot aboard any Inter-Space command vessel, flight crews in training such as the ones Connors flew, would cut their teeth aboard these less than glamorous yet, career-advancing transport planes as opposed to being a fighter jock running Low Orbital patrols. This was Connors’ second-month flying combat training missions in joint operations with the host nation’s Air and Space commands. Connors’ crew had been flying the big Triple C doing low orbit insertion drops with the Army’s Special Operations Teams and their Japanese counterparts. For the last three weeks, they had been conducting these high-stress missions which took a heavy toll on both man and machines. But on this day they were given leave. Rather than fly onto the main island for R&R (Rest & Relaxation), Connors chose to stay on base to see a special Japanese Martial Arts Exhibition taking place on base up close.

  Connors recalled stepping through the twin doors of the base indoor basketball court which doubled as an assembly hall. He remembered how the skylights brought in the morning rays of the sun into center court. It was there he joined his buddy Tom Mathews up into the third row where he had been saving his wingman a seat. The way Connors remembered it, Mathews was one of those slick characters from the Midwest he could count on to pull something when least expected. He was of those eager pilots who thought of the service as a way up into a glamorous spot with the Commercial Carriers. Or perhaps he might go for one of those suborbital transits or for the globe-arching commuter lines that took you from Tokyo to Paris in twenty minutes or less? Who knew? All Connors could think of was that one look those crews who flew those globe-arching runs on the down low going against the Earth’s rotation had to have had serious jetlag. One that he could never imagine doing on purpose if he could avoid it at all. Especially for those guys who liked to hit the bar afterward. But somewhere out there, the opportunity would soon knock sooner than expected.

  The assembled American Servicemen and Women (mostly wearing civilian workout gym clothes) were seated in the indoor basketball courts’ wooden retractable bleachers. Within minutes of Connors taking his seat, a young airman brought out a silver microphone stand and placed a live microphone for use before standing aside to let an officer from the Special Air Group Command address them. Right on cue and in pure military fashion the Americans all stood up at attention before a superior officer entered the basketball court. This was a big intimidating looking man with blonde hair, squinted eyes, and lots of ribbons on his chest who smiled as he took the microphone.

  “Good morning,” greeted the officer in his colorful Texas accent.

  “Good morning Sir!” they replied.

  “Please sit.”

  “For those who don’t already know me I am Major John Reyes, and today we are going to have four special Martial Arts demonstrations by our good friends & neighbors of the JASDF 6th Sentai. That means the 6th Air Wing for those of you who were not paying attention.”

  This drew a few chuckles from the American personnel sitting in the bleachers.

  “They will be starting off with a Kendo fencing demonstration which for those of you who love Samurai films might particularly enjoy. Afterward, there will be an Aikido demonstration which for you off duty MP’s of the 233rd Battalion, and you SOG (Special Operations Groups) folks out there who may or may not be present which we will neither confirm nor deny might enjoy. I highly recommend it particularly if you plan to later go into law enforcement particularly in the off-world jurisdiction zones. After lunch at 1100 hours, we’ll have Judo, and the local favorite you might know as Karate. Now please show the instructors all the proper respect and feel free to ask the instructors any questions you might have at the end of their presentations. So without further adieu, let’s give a hand to our first i
nstructor who holds the rank of Third Dan in Kendo which is like a black belt for those who don’t know and who also happens to be the CAG (Commander Air Group) of the 6th Sentai Intercept Squadron JASDF, Captain Hiroshi Matsumura.”

  The American personnel who attended the Martial Arts demonstration applauded from the bleachers as the Japanese Captain entered the basketball court barefoot. He was tall in stature standing at roughly 6’1 and appeared wearing the traditional black split Hakama sword pants and dark blue Keogi under his black kendo armor. He looked every bit the modern Samurai as he walked in with a bamboo shinai in one hand and his Kendo helmet under the other as he smiled and looked around the bleachers before he spoke.

  “Ohaiyo Gozaimasu! Good morning everyone,” greeted Captain Matsumura.

  “Good Morning Sir!” the Americans all replied.

  As Capt. Matsumura began to speak; Tom Mathews prodded Connors into their own conversation.

  “He speaks good English,’ observed Mathews.

  “Yes he does,” agreed Connor.

  “Say, Mike, you did fencing in high school did you not?” nudged Mathews.

  “I suppose this is similar enough I could do it,” whispered Connors as he tried not to appear rude before the Captain’s presentation.

  “Think you could take him?” prodded Mathews.

  “Let’s not speculate and listen to what they have to say,” suggested Connors.

  Mathews continued to talk while Connors smiled and tried not to catch the attention of Major Reyes who by now had noticed their little inappropriate chat while the Captain was speaking. By now it was too late. They had been noticed by both the Major and Capt. Matsumura at which point Reyes raised his hand to politely interrupt and address his two subordinates.

  “Say do you two have something really important to share with the rest of the group?” asked Major Reyes.

  Both Connors and Mathews immediately stood up at attention.

  “No Sir!” they replied.

  “Then good! We don’t want to be rude to our hosts. After all, they are really big on politeness here,” remarked the Major.

  Captain Matsumura remained silently amused.

  “Since you, boys know so much, why don’t you come down and volunteer to partake in this demonstration?” suggested Maj. Reyes.

  “Oh shit!” muttered Mathews.

  “What was that?” asked the Major.

  “Nothing, Sir! I don’t know anything about this style of fighting beyond what I learned in Basic Training, but my good man Connors here says he did a lot of championship fencing back in high school,” said Mathews.

  “Thanks a lot there, Blue Falcon!” whispered Connors.

  “Is that a fact?” questioned Major Reyes.

  “Yes, Sir!” replied Connors.

  “Alright then, since you’re so inclined to comment on your expertise; you come right down here and let Captain Matsumura’s people suit you up. This ought to be interesting,” said Major Reyes.

  “I’ll say!” agreed Connors.

  Connors shook his head at his man Mathews and gave him the look that he would owe him for this one stepped down from the wooden bleachers as two dozen similarly Kendo uniformed participants from the JASDF entered the indoor basketball court and lined up in two neat rows before sitting down in the traditional Japanese seiza position resting on their knees with their legs tucked in beneath them as they placed their bamboo shinai down to their sides before placing their hands on the deck and bowing. Capt. Matsumura looked Connors in the eye and smiled.

  “So you have done European fencing before?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” replied Connors.

  “Good. You shall do fine.”

  Captain Matsumura nod his head to two seasoned looking JASDF service members wearing standard military camouflage uniforms to bring forth the backup set of Kendo Armor.

  “Uh Sir?” questioned Connors.

  “No need to worry. Sgt. Suyama will help you into a proper Kendo uniform and armor. All you need to do when he is ready is to walk up to the white line and bow then say: Onegaishimasu,” instructed Capt. Matsumura.

  ‘Onegaishi…??”

  “Onegaishimasu!” corrected Capt. Matsumura.

  “You cannot step into the Kendo arena until you say Onegaishimasu,” explained Capt. Matsumura.

  At this point, Connors knew he was in trouble as his two hands were simultaneously strapped into the heavy boxing like gloves worn by Kendo fighters and the claustrophobic helmet with heavy side flaps that while similar to the regular European fencing helmet he was used to seemed quite bulky in comparison.

  ‘Oh, Tommy boy! I am so going to kick your ass when this is over,’ he thought as his instigating wingman cheered him on from the sidelines.

  As soon as Connors was ready, Matsumura gave him a crash course on how to hold the shinai and the three points on the body he was allowed to strike.

  “You must grip the shinai sword with both hands. You may only strike the top of the head which we say ‘Men’ or the abdomen ‘Do’ or the wrists as if you were to cut off an opponent’s sword hands you say ‘Kote,’ instructed Capt. Matsumura.

  “I think I got it,” said Connors.

  “Very good. Now step onto the black line bow and say Onegaishimasu,” instructed Capt. Matsumura.

  “Right. Onegaishimasu!” repeated Connors.

  In his mind, he thought back to his old fencing days and brushed off the looming challenge as nothing to worry about. But then instead of choosing one of the more larger men to fight, Capt. Matsumura called for the smallest fighter there.

  “Oh! Now you are making fun of me,” said Connors.

  The smaller fighter took to the opposite of the circle and bowed.

  “Step into the circle and when I say Son-kyo, draw your shinai sword and crouch down. This is a low form of bowing to your opponent to show respect before engaging in combat. This was the way of the Japanese Sword. The Way of the Samurai” explained Capt. Matsumura.

  Connors breathed deeply from within the helmet he looked out through as he stood opposite the smaller fighter.

  “Sonkyo!” was called by Sgt. Suyama.

  Connors mirrored his opponent and performed the customary bow while gripping his shinai sword with both hands. This was something he was unaccustomed to having trained to fence one-handed with a light alloy foil sword. For Connors, the bamboo shinai felt heavy and somewhat bulky to grip with the large padded Kendo gloves. Then, at last, the two fighters arose with their swords pointed at each other. A sudden thrust and Connors deflected one then two quick strikes.

  ‘This isn’t so hard,’ he thought.

  Then out of nowhere the smaller Kendo fighter let out a loud high pitched “Ki-Ai” scream leaping into the air striking for Connors’ head not once but three times driving him backward then a hard thrust and Connors was sent flying six feet back until he landed flat on the floor within what seemed a microsecond!

  The American personnel jeered and whistled at Connors’ quick defeat by the smallest fighter in the room. He could not believe it himself that he was knocked off his feet six feet back and landed flat on his ass.

  “Not so easy Ne’?” remarked Capt. Matsumura.

  “No, Sir! It’s a little more than I bargained for,” replied Connors.

  Captain Matsumura grinned as he extended his hand to help Connors up on his feet. Connors turned and bowed to his masked opponent and returned to the sideline where the two JASDF servicemen quickly helped him out of the Kendo armor. Connors’ trusted wingman Tom Mathews came down from the bleacher to check on his buddy.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  “Yeah I’ll live,” replied Connors.

  “Man, that was some serious ass whooping you just took back there! I thought you said you were a fencing champion in high school,” said Mathews.

  “Yeah that was a while back, but this is a whole different kind of fencing particularly with the gear,” remarked Connors.

  Then to their
surprise, the Kendo fighter removed the helmet to reveal it was a beautiful Japanese girl.

  “Oh man! Are you serious?” exclaimed Connors.

  Mathews chuckled as he could not believe who Connors’ opponent was.

  “Whoa, dude! She is seriously hot!” exclaimed Mathews.

  “But not for you!” joked Connors.

  Major Reyes walked up on over to the two with a big grin on his face to interject.

  “Nor you so don’t even think about it. That’s Captain Matsumura’s younger sister,” said Maj. Reyes.

  “No Sir!” replied Connors.

  “Boy, I have to say that was quite a show you put on there. Now let that be a lesson to you so you’ll remember to keep your big mouth shut when the Sensei is talking,” said Maj. Reyes.

  “Yes, Sir!” they replied.

  ‘What a memory that was!’ thought Connors.

  While improbable at the time, he had no idea he would have another opportunity to meet and later fall in love with Aya Matsumura. This, of course, was not initially supported by the Matsumura family particularly by her older brother given the scores of failed marriages especially with those involving children between Japanese and American personnel. A spark had been lit that no candle snuffer could put out. Eventually, after some challenges by the Matsumura family namely from her older brother Hiroshi, Connors would convince Aya’s family of his sincerity and would later marry her in a traditional Shinto wedding at the Grand Shrine of Ise in Mei Prefecture. This was good for focus.