The Practical Experiences of Tenkei Fujisaki, Shihan of Hatenkai Aikido ~Through Randori with 40 Practitioners of Traditional Aikido~ "

The Practical Experiences of Tenkei Fujisaki, Shihan of Hatenkai Aikido

– Reflections on Randori with 40 Practitioners of Traditional Aikido –

A note on terminology: In this article, "randori" refers to serious, non-striking grappling sparring focused on the application of Aikido techniques.

Foreword: The Dialogue of Budo and a Matter of Responsibility

Every martial arts exchange is a form of dialogue, conducted not with words but through body and spirit. Over the years, I have come to see that this dialogue can take two forms. The first is a collaborative inquiry, where both parties seek mutual growth. The second is a dialogue of confrontation, where the intent is to test, to challenge, and to dominate.

As the head of a dojo, I have a duty to respond to each visitor according to their intent. A sincere seeker is met with guidance; a challenger is met with the unwavering principles of our Budo. To respond to a genuine challenge with anything less than your full, unshakeable spirit is a form of disrespect to both the challenger and the art itself. Some of the experiences I recount here were not merely training sessions; they were, in essence, duels, and my actions were a duty to answer a question posed in the language of Budo.

It is also crucial to understand the context of these encounters. A significant number of visitors arrived with the spirit of a dojo-yaburi—a formal dojo challenge—seeking a direct test of strength. This self-selection is key; humble individuals do not typically challenge other schools. Therefore, the accounts that follow are predominantly shaped by interactions with those who came to test their skills against mine.

This brings me to a point of ethical responsibility. For context, I stand 180cm (5'11") and weigh 92kg (203 lbs), with national-level competition experience in Karate and multiple championships in Aikido, alongside dan ranks in Judo and Koryu Jujutsu. This is not a boast but a statement of responsibility. To engage without a high degree of control against an opponent unaccustomed to full-contact exchange would be irresponsible and risks serious injury. The act of "holding back" (kagen) discussed in these accounts should therefore be understood not as a lack of seriousness, but as a non-negotiable prerequisite for ensuring safety and facilitating any productive exchange.

The insights that follow were forged in this complex environment, where my foremost duty was to maintain the integrity of our art and the safety of all participants.

A Decade of Inquiry: Reflections on Randori with Traditional Aikido Practitioners

On my path to forging a practical form of Aikido, I have accumulated a wide range of experiences. Chief among them were the randori sessions with practitioners of traditional Aikido. Over approximately 15 years, from age 18 to 33, I had the valuable opportunity to engage with 30 to 40 individuals.

Given the sheer volume of my training regimen at the time—sparring daily, with multiple sessions per day—the individual details of every encounter have naturally blurred over time, save for the most memorable. However, these sessions, when viewed as a collective body of experience, provided profound insights.

From the perspective of my own development, these encounters did not always offer the level of challenge I sought. This was often due to a significant disparity in practical sparring experience, which required me to moderate the power and speed of my techniques to ensure a safe and constructive session. The primary learning came not from testing my limits, but from observing common patterns and tendencies among practitioners whose training was rooted in a different methodology. (Of course, within my own dojo, I have always been blessed with high-level partners who provide ample challenge and learning).

The practitioners I faced represented a broad cross-section of the Aikido world, ranging in age from their 20s to their 50s, with ranks from Shodan to Godan (1st to 5th dan).

Why Were the Rules Primarily Non-Striking?

We conducted these sessions mainly under non-striking rules for two reasons: safety and focus. While I consider striking an indispensable element of practical Aikido, it became clear that most visitors did not possess the defensive skills to safely engage in a realistic striking exchange. Forcing the inclusion of strikes would have been dangerous. Furthermore, omitting them allowed us to focus purely on the core grappling and kuzushi elements of Aikido technique.

Realities Observed Through Randori

Sparring with these individuals revealed several common tendencies.

1. An Observable Gap Between Kata Proficiency and Sparring Application

Many practitioners seemed unfamiliar with the fluid, unpredictable nature of live randori. Once the session began, a common hesitation would manifest in several ways:

Their movements became rigid.
They would continuously retreat to maintain a safe distance.
Upon contact, instead of executing techniques to unbalance an opponent (kuzushi), many would pull their hips back and attempt to push or bat away my hands with force.

I have often heard the argument that matches are disadvantageous due to restrictive rules. However, my experience suggests that before rules even become a factor, a more fundamental issue exists: a lack of experience in applying techniques against a resisting opponent. The hesitation and reactive movements occurred in a context where most fundamental Aikido techniques were permitted. The challenge lay not in the rules, but in adapting to a live, practical situation.

2. Divergent Reactions to Pressure

How practitioners reacted to this unfamiliar pressure often depended on their temperament.

The Majority (60-70%): Became defensive, either freezing up or constantly backing away.
A Minority of Strong-Willed Individuals: Lacked fluidity and the ability to chain techniques. They tended to relentlessly repeat a single basic technique they were familiar with, such as Ikkyo-omote or Shihonage, regardless of its applicability to the situation.

3. A Disconnect Between Confidence and Conditioning

Interestingly, this gap in practical experience was often paired with a strong confidence in the effectiveness of their art. It was not uncommon for individuals with little to no sparring experience to request marathon sessions, saying, "I want to go for an hour."

Frankly, live randori is exceptionally demanding. Even for me, a continuous hour is a significant physical challenge. This suggested a disconnect between their perception of sparring and its physical reality. For instance, one individual requested a long session. We began with a three-minute round. After one minute, he was visibly fatiguing, and by the two-minute mark, he was exhausted. When I paused to check on him, he conceded, "That's enough." He lacked the stamina for even a fraction of his requested time, highlighting a common gap between perception and reality for those unaccustomed to sparring.

4. Difficulty in Processing the Outcome

In some cases, after a session where I had significantly moderated my intensity (while still successfully applying techniques), individuals would dismiss the outcome with comments like, "That's not Aikido, that's just brute force." That a person on the receiving end of a technique in a live exchange would deny its validity—especially when they had been unable to apply any techniques themselves—was a sobering lesson on the nature of learning and ego in Budo. Conversely, the practitioners whom I felt were skilled enough to engage with more intensity were always the ones who would debrief the session openly and thoughtfully afterward.

5. When Reality Reshapes Perception

Some participants experienced a profound shift after the randori. In one memorable case, an individual who had been assertively and somewhat arrogantly proclaiming his skills beforehand adopted a dramatically respectful demeanor afterward, addressing me with the formal title of "Soke" (Founder/Head of Family). Even my own students do not use this title so formally. This stark change in attitude was a powerful illustration of how direct, physical experience can fundamentally reshape one's perception and understanding.

6. A Memorable Lesson in Conduct and Responsibility

One incident remains particularly vivid. A man in his 50s, holding a 3rd dan in Aikido and with a background in traditional Karate, came for a trial session. He strongly insisted on a full-contact match with striking. Given the significant size disparity—I was taller by 10cm and heavier by 30kg (66 lbs)—and his lack of full-contact experience, I judged it would be unsafe. We agreed to a non-striking randori.

His demeanor created a tense atmosphere, so before we began, I took the precaution of clearly re-stating the rules in front of all participants. Once we started, the skill gap was apparent, and I focused on controlling the exchange safely. In the midst of this, despite the rule, my opponent threw a kick to my groin. Having anticipated the possibility of such an action based on his attitude, I was able to parry it, neutralize the situation, and calmly remind him, "Strikes are forbidden."

After the session, he began to complain, "My wrist hurts. These rules are bad." I asked him, "I explained the rules to everyone beforehand. If you had an issue, why did you not raise it before we started?" He fell silent. I continued, "Did you not realize I was holding back considerably? If we had engaged with strikes as you requested, and I had not exercised control, you could have been seriously injured." His perception seemed disconnected from the reality of facing a much larger, younger opponent with extensive full-contact experience.

Regrettably, an instructor in our association who witnessed this exchange was so disheartened that he later left, feeling he could no longer deal with such attitudes. This incident was a painful lesson in the difficulty of managing unreasonable expectations and underscored my responsibility as an instructor to prevent injury, even under trying circumstances. Experiences like this led us to establish a policy where randori is now reserved for official members of the dojo, ensuring a foundation of shared principles and safety.

Dan Rank and Practical Strength: An Elusive Correlation

It is important to state that not all traditional Aikido practitioners lacked practical ability. I recall two individuals in particular who were highly capable. One, a hobbyist bodybuilder, possessed formidable physical strength. The other was a Karate practitioner whose resolve seemed forged in experiences far beyond the dojo; his courage and adaptability were exceptional.

However, a crucial insight emerged from these dozens of encounters: in the context of traditional Aikido, there was almost no discernible correlation between a person's dan rank (from 1st to 5th dan) and their functional strength in a live randori setting.

While some high-ranking practitioners hesitated, others, regardless of rank, demonstrated practical ability rooted in physical conditioning or sheer mental toughness. Yet, I also observed that these qualities alone were often insufficient for navigating the complex dynamics of sparring or applying higher-level techniques. Practical application requires its own distinct skill set, honed only through live practice.

My Own Realization: The Limits of Kata

My conviction about the necessity of practical Aikido is rooted in my own past. For the first ten years of my journey, I was a practitioner of traditional Aikido and firmly believed that kata was the sole source of martial strength. I dismissed sparring as a heretical pursuit.

Around that time, I heard a shihan from a practical style declare, "You can't win a real fight with kata alone. In a match, you'd lose instantly." I remember feeling indignant. Yet, after years of my own randori experiences, I was forced to confront the undeniable truth in his words. I had secretly hoped to encounter a practitioner who could validate the ideal of kata-only efficacy. But among the nearly 40 dan-holders I sparred with, none could.

This realization brought with it a touch of sadness, as I love the art of Aikido deeply. But as a martial artist and instructor, I cannot turn my back on reality. The absolute necessity of practical, live training had become undeniable.

The Unforgettable Mandate

One of my most formative experiences was not about technique, but about pressure and duty. When I was 19 or 20, a young dan-holder from another school visited the dojo of my teacher, an innovative Aikido master. The visitor began posing disrespectful questions to my master. Seeing my teacher's rising anger, he turned to me and uttered a single command: "Fujisaki, kumite."

"Osu," I replied.

To be ordered directly by my master to engage meant I could not lose. The honor of my teacher and our school rested on my shoulders. The pressure was immense. Though still developing as a martial artist, I fought with desperation. Afterward, I felt I hadn't dominated the exchange as cleanly as my master would have wished. But a senior student later reassured me, "Fujisaki, you were overwhelming him."

That experience taught me that being a martial artist is not just about technique, but about mental fortitude and loyalty. It also solidified my respect for skilled practitioners wherever they may be found. I have encountered individuals from other competitive Aikido organizations with outstanding tai-sabaki, powerful throws, and sharp atemi. My pursuit of my own style is unwavering, but my respect for these excellent martial artists is boundless.

The Guiding Philosophy of Hatenkai Aikido

These collective experiences are the bedrock of Aikido Hatenkai's philosophy. They led directly to our system, which treats kata (form) and kumite (sparring) as two wheels of the same cart, and to the development of our "Unified Aikido Rules." These rules, which validate techniques like knife-hand strikes to the face, are designed to bridge the gap between training and realistic application.

At Aikido Hatenkai, we practice kata and kumite in parallel, believing this is the most effective path to functional skill. We seek a harmony between tradition and innovation, where the timeless principles of posture and movement are pressure-tested and refined through live application.

The lessons I learned, though often harsh, are an irreplaceable asset. I will continue to apply them in my daily instruction, dedicated to fostering an Aikido that is effective in the world and to developing true martial artists.

Hatenkai Aikido Website