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and bask in my ever-more-vacuous pronouncements. Such women would train with great dedication, and their expectations were far beyond the attainment of physical proficiency.
    What they sought was the spirituality they believed I possessed. But any such spirituality had long since departed.

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    It was Chica who taught me the truth which illuminates the path I now follow. Though she is gone from this earth, her spirit remains, a candle-point in the night, guiding my way. I accept that I am not worthy of this flame of guidance. I know it to have been the final bequest of a child to the self-absorbed “father” who sent her on a mission for which she was not prepared.
    Chica was my student, a slender, dark-haired young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties. I knew her only by the name she provided, a holdover from my first teaching principles. In post-war Japan, keeping records would not only have violated tradition, it would have endangered any who studied with me. At my dojo, students signed no contracts; no credit cards or other such methods of payment were accepted. My American investors would create whatever paper the authorities required. This was an arrangement they themselves had suggested, one that I eagerly embraced.
    I asked nothing of my students but their commitment. They contributed what they could, it being tacitly understood that this would vary from individual to individual.
    That was as it should always be, so that each might find his own path to the Way.

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    Chica was my student for almost five years. She would come nearly every afternoon, often practicing until late in the evening.
    Never once did she question the training regimen. Never once did she protest, even when in pain. Her only response to criticism was to work harder. Adversity intensified her efforts. As I gradually descended from teacher to “master,” Chica was climbing the path to the ideals I had once embraced with all my spirit.
    My art has many aspects, but it attains the apex of its effectiveness only when in synergy with the aggression of an opponent. Those of sufficient knowledge are able to cope with any attacker’s apparent advantage in size or strength. But only those at the highest level are able to use such apparent handicaps to enhance their own effectiveness.
    In my system, we teach that speed is power. We stress the importance of what we call “being first,” but, always, the foundation of our art lies in its ability to convert the energy of an attacker’s force into a weapon.
    Although we teach avoidance of confrontation, we understand this to be an option that will not always be available. Thus, what others call “self-defense,” we teach as attack.
    What we do not teach is “analysis” of an opponent. A fully trained practitioner will not “think.” Reaction will flow as water against a slightly torn cloth, organically seeking the point of least resistance. Our most complex departure from the hidebound scripture of martial arts is our acceptance of this core truth: Some human beings are of evil mind and poisonous spirit. They cannot be understood, they cannot be changed. And, once they reveal themselves, they cannot be avoided.
    When such a person enters—into a room or a life—attack is an inevitability. At the ultimate peak of our art, one learnsto
induce
such an attack. When an aggressor moves in response to
your
inducement, he has lost the power of surprise. His assault cannot create that frisson of panic on which he has come to rely. Acting
within
the aggressor’s attack creates a narrow slit of momentary confusion. In that moment, the aggressor is completely vulnerable. His power has not been lessened, it has been redirected.
    Desire to inflict pain becomes painful.
    Desire to kill becomes death.
    All speak so glibly of a “center.” We do not focus on finding one’s own center; we focus on turning an adversary away from his.
    Some of the most revered sensei call this “balance disruption.”