Having practiced kendo for many years, I often come across proverbs. My favorite is the saying, "There are miraculous victories, but there are no miraculous losses." It is said to be a quote left behind by Matsuura Seizan, a feudal lord from the Edo period. This saying tends to draw attention to its strictness, which does not allow the loser to make excuses, but I think that is not the only essence of it. What is important is that "miraculous victories" exist quite frequently.

Fujinami Kota's kendo is often described as mysterious. To his opponents, it seems like an eerie style of kendo with unknown origins. This assessment can easily be heard as sour grapes from a loser, as the phrase "mysterious kendo" can sometimes carry the nuance of a lucky win. But even if it's a mysterious win, it's still a win. Rather, when a mindless strike results in an ippon, isn't it what people call a mysterious win?

It can be said that striking without any mind is what all kendo practitioners aim for.

With four minutes to go in the match, Ishizaka raised the tip of his sword and delivered a one-handed thrust. It was the same technique that had won him a point in the semi-finals. He calmly deflected the thrust and dove into the men. Ishizaka frantically blocked it with his bamboo sword. Unfortunately, it wasn't a point, but he felt he had found his chance of victory with this strike.

Ishizaka is anxious.

The usual Ishizaka would never have attempted such a reckless attack as a one-handed thrust in this situation. Unless his opponent was hiding something, there was no way a one-handed thrust would land in a normal attacking situation.

"Stop."

Four minutes passed, and at the referee's command, both players lowered their bamboo swords. With neither player able to score a decisive goal, the match went into overtime.

He once again drew up a plan for how to get Ishizaka to take a point. The basic strategy of inviting him to attack with his men remained the same. He would then counter with a dekote or kaeshidō. He would only use the throw when he was going to get a point. If he got the timing of the throw wrong, he would end up being the one to get the point. It was a gamble to use the throwing technique, which leaves him open to attack. But to get a point from Ishizaka, he would have to take a risk to some extent.

He lowered the tip of his sword to invite a strike at the men, but if his opponent was easily won over by that, he wouldn't have any trouble. Ishizaka carefully crept closer, and the match revolved around kote-men and counter-waza. Perhaps he instinctively sensed the danger of de-kote. If so, his hunch was correct. The moment Ishizaka made even the slightest movement to strike the men, he struck the kote without hesitation. He was certain that Ishizaka would eventually fall into his trap.

Three minutes had passed since the start of the extra time. Everyone in the gym was silent. In the quiet arena, I thought I heard Ishizaka's heart suddenly pounding. Finally, Ishizaka got ready to strike.

I didn't miss the opportunity and raised my bamboo sword. Ishizaka's sword pointing straight towards the men. Matching his movement, I launched a dekote in the shortest distance.

That was what I expected, but for just a moment, a doubt crossed my mind.

What if this face-off is fake?

A moment later, Ishizaka's bamboo sword had already struck my face with precision. Ishizaka swiftly dashed past me, and my bamboo sword missed his upper arm. Three flags went up.

"With face"

At that moment, summer was over.

***

A cheer rose from Myoho Gakuen's cheering squad, followed by applause. The applause spread throughout the crowd, and the two players left the court amid a wave of applause. A seven or eight minute match had condensed the lives of the two players over a decade.

He wiped away tears from his eyes as he clapped along with the audience.

This was my second time watching kendo. The first time was at the Inter-High School Championships in Okayama.

Last year in Okayama, I made the effort to come and watch the game, but I never got around to saying a word to Kota. I realized that I wasn't the most important thing to Kota right now. That's why I decided to stop answering his calls and cut off all contact.

Even after removing his mask, his face was as beautiful as ever. Kota had a radiance that other boys didn't have. It was a radiance that only someone living in the prime of their youth could exude.

I left the stands. I had to hurry back to Fukuoka. It was a shame I wouldn't be able to see Kota get the silver medal around his neck at the closing ceremony, but work was waiting for me. I stayed up all night writing articles, then hopped on the first bullet train of the morning to Tokyo. I'd then take the bullet train back to Fukuoka, do some interviews, and work until the morning. Getting lots of work means I'm recognized as a writer, so that's not a bad thing. That's why I've been asked to write interview articles for popular women's magazines, and it was thanks to that that I met Kota.

Kota was the first person I'd ever slept with, and I think he'd probably be the last. I lied about our first time at the hotel because of some strange pride I had as a woman a generation older than him.

I wondered why I slept with Kota. His good looks were undoubtedly a big factor. But that wasn't the only reason. In addition to the radiance of youth, I was also attracted to his dark side. Kota was blessed with both good looks and kendo talent, but he seemed like an unhappy man who was not at all satisfied with his current situation.

I knew he'd been called away at a convenient time. I could tell that easily by looking at his cold profile after it was over. That's why, even though I'd gone all the way to Okayama, I couldn't show up in front of Kota. If I'd shown up pretending to be his girlfriend, he might have thought I was a brazen woman. I think it was mainly because I didn't want to admit that I was serious about a boy who was about 17 or 18 years old.

I had planned to just fade away like this. It was hard to cut off contact, but my busy schedule at work helped me forget about it.

A year has passed since then, and I found out that Kota would be competing in this year's Inter-High. I couldn't wait any longer. Impulsively, I bought a ticket to Tokyo. I really think I'm a woman who doesn't give up easily. If kendo was more important to him than me, I wanted to see the end of it. I guess my wish came true.

I looked back after leaving the gym. Was the team competition still underway? Or had the closing ceremony already begun? I wondered if the medal around Kota's neck was sparkling.

***

Myoho Gakuen also won the team competition. As I watched Ishizaka's back as he accepted his certificate at the awards ceremony, I felt a strange sense of relief. Even though I should have been frustrated, I felt somehow refreshed.

After the ceremony, I took a photo with the coach and team members. As I turned to face the camera, I glanced around the stands. Minae was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had come to cheer us on. But any hopes I had had were dashed away with the sound of the shutter clicking.

I changed from my judo uniform into my school uniform in a corner of the corridor. I carried my protective gear and waited for a taxi. We were heading back to the hotel before dinner. The coach and I got into the last taxi. When I tried to sit in the passenger seat, the coach stopped me and pushed me into the back seat. A while after the taxi started moving, the coach spoke up.

"Thank you for your hard work over the past three years."

He took out a medal from his pocket. The silver medal reflected the neon signs of the city as it began to get dark, emitting a colorful light. One of the lights reflected on the medal suddenly became distorted. The distortion spread in an instant, covering the entire medal.

No matter how much I cried, the tears wouldn't stop. I held back my sobs and clutched the silver medal in both hands.

The silver medal he won at the Inter-High School Championships in his third year of high school is displayed in the best spot in his dorm room. It's more visible than any of his gold medals. Every time he sees it, he's reminded of the final match against Ishizaka Sho.

Even after retiring from club activities, he continued living in the dormitory until graduation. He showed up at the dojo almost every day and trained his juniors. Until now, he had done his best to withstand the pressure of competition, but now he just enjoys kendo.

I've been thinking a lot lately. Until now, we'd only been living for kendo, but suddenly the mysterious idea of ​​a future career path appeared before us. Like many of my fellow club members, I decided to go to university on recommendation.

The problem was what to do after that. Police, teaching, or working for a corporate team? Since it was difficult to make a living from kendo, he had to find employment somehow. He had a vague desire to be involved in spreading kendo. And not through reporting for a magazine, but by teaching at a dojo. Perhaps he would even flee overseas.

I bought the October issue of Kendo Kai on the day it was released, and it contained an interview with the winner.

-How do you analyze the reasons for your victory, Mr. Ishizaka?

"I really don't know. Especially in the final, it seemed like Fujinami's dekote perfectly matched my debana. But in reality, I struck his men earlier. Even when I watch the video, I can definitely see that I struck his men a split second earlier."

--Does this mean that your mind's judgment cannot keep up with your body's reactions?

"I think that's part of it. And I think I don't really value myself."

--How do you evaluate yourself, Mr. Ishizaka?

"To be honest, I don't think I'm a very talented player. There are many players who are more talented than me. I feel like I'm just trying to make up for the difference in talent by finding ways to do it. Even now, I don't have much confidence in myself."

--I find it surprising that the national champion has no confidence.

"Because I'm a coward, I've probably trained harder than anyone else. I think it's because I'm such a coward that I was able to win twice. Maybe it's time to forgive myself."

For someone who always uses the same old lines, this was an interesting message. Maybe it's time to forgive myself. I felt like that one word resonated with me too.

After reading the article in my dorm room, I decided to make a call.

After the third ring, the caller picked up.

"hello"

Hearing Minae's voice for the first time in a year permeated my entire body.