Quiet Things That Accumulate — A Day in Suwa

日本語

I recently visited Suwa City in Nagano Prefecture, where I was born and raised.
I began practicing karate there when I was fifteen, and the dojo in Suwa is where my journey in budo truly began.

This time, I was invited to an OBOG gathering, along with a secret celebration for Hotta sensei, the head instructor of the Suwa dojo, who turned seventy-seven.
Kiju is a celebration of the seventy-seventh year, a tradition that has long existed in Japan.

Many of the members I used to train with more than twenty years ago came together, and we enjoyed reminiscing about the old days.

Although I meet Hotta sensei once every few years, it had been a long time since we were able to have a long, unhurried conversation.
He remembered a small moment from when I was still a light-blue belt—probably around 8th kyu—when I won a tiny local tournament at the city festival.
I had almost forgotten about it myself, and hearing him recall it warmed my heart.

During the event, the children performed board breaking as entertainment, bringing a cheerful atmosphere to the room.
Then, the MC announced a surprise: Hotta sensei—who was supposed to be the one celebrated—would break the boards himself.
It was completely unexpected for him.

They were two issun boards, about three centimeters thick.

When the two assistants stepped onto the stage holding the boards, Hotta sensei casually joined them.
He adjusted his distance for just a moment, and before anyone could react, he broke both boards instantly with a shuto strike and a backfist.

It was truly astonishing.

The second board, broken with a backfist, was especially impressive.
He struck in a way that allowed the fist to “escape” slightly on contact—a sign of refined technique built through decades of steady budo practice.

It was quiet, deep, and unmistakably martial.
I found myself thinking, This is what budo truly is.

I believe that aging is not something to resist, but something to learn to face with care.
One of the answers to that, I feel, lies within the steady practice of budo.

Some people couldn’t attend, and some are no longer with us.
Even so, it was a day filled with quiet gratitude for the people I met through karate in Suwa.