In kendo, there is one stance called "Sansho Kakushi." Normally, the shinai is held straight towards the opponent, but in sansho kakushi, the shinai is used to protect the men and right torso at the same time, and by twisting the wrist inward, the kote is also hidden from the opponent. It is called "Sansho Kakushi" because it hides the men, kote, and torso. Sansho kakushi can be said to be a defensive stance.

Naturally, the tip of the sword will be pointing towards the ground. This means that there is no intention to strike the opponent, and in kendo, which is based on the principle of attacking each other, it may be called a foul. Sansho-kakushi is particularly common in junior and senior high schools, so referees also observe it carefully.

Hiding the sansho without being called a foul by the referee is now one of my specialties. During a match, it's best to hide the sansho only at crucial moments, and only for a moment. Sometimes I've been called for a foul, but I just need to make sure I don't get called for a second foul. If I'm called for two fouls, I'll give my opponent a point, but if I do it once, there's no penalty.

He would approach his opponent with a sansho-kakushi technique and then win the match with a pulling technique from a sword-clash. By the time he was in his third year, this style had been fully established. He consistently placed highly in tournaments across the prefecture, and finally won the individual qualifying round for the Inter-High School Championships.

Iwata was tougher than I thought.

Just as Watanabe said, Iwata's steps are quick and his strikes have a long reach. He seemed to have more reach than his body size would suggest. Until we actually faced each other, I didn't think he could suddenly strike from a distance and reach the face. While gauging the distance, I carefully dodged Iwata's strikes.

Sensing the moment Iwata tried to jump from afar, he reflexively responded with a sansho-kakushi. This is because it's impossible to tell what he's trying to hit from afar. The moment Iwata struggled to hit and hesitated to jump, he quickly moved in. He didn't hear the referee say "stop," so it seems he didn't think it was a foul. The match continued until he was locked in a sword fight. Iwata could be heard clicking his tongue from inside his mask.

It was in the grip of the sword that he was able to show his true strength. He pushed hard into Iwata's fists with his own and stepped back, and Iwata, in reaction to the push, brought his kote forward. He then swatted Iwata's shinai away, opening his kote, and quickly slammed it in with his pull kote. He thought he had caught it perfectly, but the referee only raised his flag, and the two assistant referees did not, so it was not a point.

From the first to the third round, he only scored ippon with pulling techniques. This may have given the judges a bad impression. Perhaps they thought, "It's a tough decision for a player who practices dirty kendo." If that's the case, then he had no choice but to score ippon with a strike that was beyond reproach.

Iwata struck me with his shinai from a distance, but I blocked it with ease. I raised my hand, expecting him to attack my men, but Iwata swung his shinai at my exposed do. I felt like I heard a reflexive scolding from Mr. Yonekura, who was sitting behind me.

"If you do regular kendo you're weaker than a middle school student, so just aim for pulling techniques."

This was something that was said every time there was a practice match.

Iwata's hit to the body was timed, but the blow was shallow and it would never be considered an ippon. That's what I thought, but then I saw one of the assistant referees raise his flag. I frantically looked over at the other two and saw them waving their flags. The bespectacled assistant referee lowered his flag as if he had given up.

Before we knew it, the momentum of the game was in their favor.

Iwata then jumped to the men after the offensive exchange. He blocked the bamboo sword at a critical moment and brought the match into a sword fight. There were not many chances left. If he didn't score here, he would lose the initiative.

He again pushed hard at both of his opponent's fists. Iwata's earlier kote seemed to be still fresh in his mind, and instead of bringing it forward, he held it close to his chest. Undeterred, he forcefully brushed aside Iwata's shinai and swung it up high. Iwata quickly raised his shinai to block the blow to the men.

The next moment, the bamboo sword sunk perfectly into the opponent's right torso. I shouted, stepped back with a zanshin in my mind, and glanced sideways to check the referee's flag. The referee and one assistant referee were holding up their flags. The bespectacled referee was waving his flag. It seemed he had no intention of awarding a point. But that didn't really matter. If the other two raised their flags, it would count as a point.

"With torso"

The referee called the match and the second round began. Iwata was clearly frustrated. His long-range strikes were no longer sharp, and he simply took a half step back and slashed through the air. The initiative had shifted to our side. It would not have been difficult to hold on until the end of the match.

As I put away my bamboo sword and left the court, I was approached by Mr. Yonekura. Mr. Yonekura is tall and usually exudes a strangely intimidating presence.

"Once you've changed into your uniform, come to conference room D."

Even though they made it to the top eight in the national tournament, there was not a word of praise.

"Conference Room D? Where is it?"

I was not familiar with gymnasiums in Tokyo, so when I was suddenly told that it was conference room D, I had no idea where it was.

"I don't know either. Masuda called me."

"Is Professor Masuda from Hokkaido?"

I know Mr. Masuda well. He is a teacher who coaches a high school that is second only to Hokushin in Hokkaido. In the boys' team final of the Inter-High School Championships qualifiers, Hokushin lost to Mr. Masuda's high school, narrowly missing out on a spot in the national competition. Many people had predicted a landslide victory for Hokushin, so as captain, I was very disappointed.

"I'm going first."

As I watched Yonekura sensei's back go, I wiped the sweat from my forehead. I had received instruction from Masuda sensei on several occasions, including at the National Athletic Meet and during training sessions. His favorite saying was, "Do your swordsmanship properly."

As I was about to go out into the hallway with my protective gear, I saw Iwata crying in front of the wall. He was probably one of the famous kendo elites. Iwata was superior in every way: speed of his strikes, depth of his resolve, accuracy of his attacks. But he lost the match.

In kendo, there's nothing more important than winning, right?

I asked myself that question.

I followed the signs in the gymnasium and headed to conference room D.

"Excuse me."

When I opened the door, I found myself in a small room of about six tatami mats, with Professor Yonekura and Professor Masuda facing each other across a long table. Both of them were sitting on folding chairs with their arms crossed. I couldn't see Professor Masuda's face. Professor Yonekura looked clearly unhappy.

"Sit here."

As instructed, I sat down next to Professor Yonekura. Professor Masuda, who was sitting across from me, had sweat all over his face. Even though the air conditioning was on, he was the only one breaking out in a cold sweat.

Masuda-sensei was relatively young for a coach, still in his late thirties. He was currently a sixth-dan player. Like Yonekura-sensei, he was also a promising player. Masuda-sensei had a troubled look on his face and was drenched in sweat. He wiped his forehead, which was quite large for his age.

"Since Daigo is here, why don't you explain it again from the beginning?"

Professor Yonekura said this in an arrogant tone. Professor Masuda replied, "Yes," and looked up.

"Minato-kun, I'm sorry for calling you out so suddenly."

"No. What's wrong?"

"I'd like to hear your opinion on Professor Yonekura's teaching philosophy."

"In essence, you're trying to say that my teaching methods are bad."

Professor Yonekura interjected, sounding impatient.

"Don't let them do dirty kendo, that's what you're saying, right?"

"Well, calling it dirty kendo is a bit misleading..."

"Then what is it?"

"I wonder if it's a good idea to allow hiding something in three places."

Professor Masuda's argument was summed up in that one word. I began to understand the situation.

"That's not a sansho kakushi. It's just that you end up in that stance when you're trying to block your opponent's attack. Right, Daigo?"

"yes"

I answered immediately. I nodded reflexively whenever Professor Yonekura said something.

"But isn't it too frequent? There are also frequent fouls being called. I think it would be better for Mr. Yonekura to correct this."

"Do you understand the situation? We're in the middle of the national tournament."

"...I understand."

"In the first place, why should Masuda have to criticize my teaching?"

Mr. Yonekura, who never raised his voice even when he lost a match, ranted on and on, his voice thick with irritation. He leaned towards Mr. Masuda, appearing even more intimidating.

"That's none of your business."

"Minato-kun is a great player."

Professor Masuda was sweating, but refused to give in to the intimidation.

"They won the Hokkaido qualifying tournament and advanced to the quarterfinals of the national tournament. With such success, they will surely become well-known nationwide."

"So what?"

"The more Minato-kun performs, the more players will try to imitate him."

"Are you telling me to lose to Daigo?"

Professor Yonekura slammed his fist on the long table. Shocked, he instinctively shrugged his shoulders, but Professor Masuda, though breaking out in a cold sweat, remained unfazed.

"That's not true. However, from now on I would like you to fight with a proper sword."

"Just shut up and listen, what right do I have to say that?"

Mr. Yonekura's frustration was at its peak. In his experience, he had never been in such a bad mood even after losing a match.

"Don't get too cocky just because you won as a team."

"That has nothing to do with it. As a kendo instructor, I can no longer tolerate sanshokakushi. That's all."

"So that's not Sansho Kakushi."

Professor Masuda spoke with a strong tone.

"These days, high school kendo has become completely sporty. If we don't teach kendo properly as a martial art, the tradition will one day be destroyed. As a star in Hokkaido, I want Minato to practice beautiful kendo."

Professor Yonekura glanced my way, then turned his attention back to Professor Masuda. After letting out a long breath, he resumed his calm tone.

"People have been saying that kendo should be turned into a sport since we were students. The traditions have been broken down for a long time now."

"No way..."

Professor Masuda stood up and tried to say something, but Professor Yonekura stopped him.

"Well, listen. For college students or working adults, it may be different, but for high school students, winning is more important than doing the right thing. Think back to when you were a high school student. Can you proudly say that you were practicing kendo correctly?"

Professor Yonekura stood up from his folding chair.

"Anyway, don't try to insinuate strange ideas into the players at this time. It will be perceived as interference. If you continue to do this, I will report you to the All Japan Kendo Federation and the Dokken Federation."

As Professor Yonekura was about to leave the room, Professor Masuda turned to him and said,

"Proper kendo is truly strong."

As if he hadn't heard anything, Yonekura-sensei ignored him and left the room. I followed him, closing the door behind me.

I caught a taxi and went back to the hotel with Professor Yonekura. I quickly got into the passenger seat, and Professor Yonekura sat down in the back seat after me. During the short ride to the hotel, I had something I wanted to ask him.

"I have a question."

"What?"

I couldn't see Professor Yonekura's expression from here, and only his voice came back to me.

"If I stopped using Sansho Kakushi, do you think I wouldn't be able to win the match?"

"So that's not Sansho Kakushi."

Professor Yonekura sighed as he said this.

"Don't worry about Masuda. Doing things the way you've always done will give you the best chance of winning."

As I remained silent, Professor Yonekura leaned forward.

"Don't hesitate."

Hesitation only leads to defeat, he knew that very well.