Karate Kenkyū Shitsu

Every journey eventually comes to an end—unfortunately. But I will return. After my professional life, there is even a plan to remain in Japan permanently—in a country that has grown very close to my heart.

For the present, however, it is time to return to Germany. Previously, the transfer at Frankfurt Airport was facilitated by an underground tunnel connection that functioned as a kind of infrastructural “bridge” between terminals. A comparable solution had long existed at Tokyo International Airport (Haneda Airport). There, passengers arriving at Terminal 2—the so-called ANA Terminal—who were continuing on an international flight did not proceed to the regular baggage claim area. Instead, they were directed to a dedicated bus transfer point. From there, shuttle buses transported them by the most direct route to the International Terminal. Upon arrival, passengers disembarked and were conveyed by elevator directly to passport control. The entire procedure functioned as a time-saving “bridge,” significantly shortening the transfer route.

In the meantime, however, this arrangement has become obsolete. Haneda Airport has established international departures directly from Terminal 2 itself—the ANA Terminal. As a result, passengers connecting to international flights no longer need to travel between terminals by shuttle bus. The previous “bus bridge” has effectively been replaced by an integrated terminal solution, further streamlining the transfer process and eliminating the necessity of inter-terminal ground transport altogether.

Currently, it is no longer possible for Japanese or European airlines to operate flights through Russian airspace. As a result, the journey from Tokyo initially headed toward Alaska, then continued in the direction of the Arctic Circle, and subsequently proceeded over Greenland. From there, the route carried on through the airspace between the British Isles on one side and Norway on the other.

After nearly fourteen hours, the aircraft finally reached Frankfurt am Main. From there, the final flight continued to Hamburg, and upon arrival, the journey concluded with a drive home in the car that had been left parked at the airport.

Yet before crossing this bridge, the journey began early in the morning with a taxi ride from the hotel in Kumamoto to the airport. From there, I took the first flight to Haneda, then continued on to Frankfurt—onward to Hamburg, and finally home by car. A journey that demanded approximately 24 hours of endurance. And yet it is a journey I undertake every year—one during which I meet many friends, maintain existing bridges, and build new ones. A journey into the world of Okinawa Karate and Okinawa Kobudō—indeed, a bridge between Germany and Japan’s traditional Budō culture.

Until next year—when once again it will be said: “It is more important to build bridges than to destroy them”…

As many of my readers already know, Okinawa is a truly unique place. The bond among Okinawans remains remarkably strong, even when they live far from their home island. I have come to understand this through personal experience—my wife is from Okinawa, and over the years she has introduced me to many of the island’s customs and traditions.

It is for this reason that Okinawans often seek connection through so-called Kenjinkai. In many Japanese cities and even overseas, these communities bring together people with ties to Okinawa, offering a warm and welcoming space to maintain relationships and preserve cultural traditions through regular gatherings. Ikeda sensei and I had the pleasure of being invited to such a meeting in Kumamoto. Among the participants was none other than the grandson of Kyoda Jūhatsu, the son of Kyoda Jūkō. We had previously been in contact with him by e-mail through a third party, and he had kindly expressed how much he was looking forward to meeting us in person.

Over the years, the bridge between Tō’on-ryū and the Kyoda family had gradually weakened following the passing of Jūkō sensei in 1983. As Kyoda’s grandson no longer lived in Beppu, and after the deaths of Kanzaki sensei and others, it seemed as though that connection might have been lost. Fortunately, life sometimes unfolds in unexpected and meaningful ways. My wife was contacted via Facebook by a member of the Kyoda family in Okinawa, and through this renewed contact it became possible to rebuild the bridge completely. Today, Tō’on-ryū once again shares strong and heartfelt bonds with the family of Kyoda Jūhatsu.

On this special occasion, I brought along two issues of Gekkan Hiden for each participant, featuring the article on Kyoda Jūhatsu, as well as some chocolate from Germany as a small token of appreciation. To my great surprise, Kyoda’s grandson had already purchased the two issues and told me that he was a great admirer of my writings and that my articles had paid a significant tribute to his grandfather. The meeting soon turned into hours of engaging and lively conversation about Kyoda Jūhatsu. Through his grandson’s generous sharing of memories, we gained invaluable insights—personal stories and family recollections that had never before been made public and were entirely new to us.

To our great surprise, the grandson invited us to his home the following day, explaining that he had already prepared something for us. When we arrived, he showed us photo albums of Kyoda Jūhatsu containing many pictures we had never seen before, as well as Kyoda sensei’s sai, his bō, and other personal belongings. To our astonishment, even the calligraphy by Iraha Chōkō—presented to Kyoda during one of his visits—was still hanging intact in the grandson’s home. He additionally treated us to green tea, banpeiyu, and Japanese sweets. After five hours, including a two-hour interview, it was time to take our leave.

Ikeda sensei had also kindly arranged an additional training opportunity, allowing us to practise together for two more days. We dedicated considerable time to the bōjutsu kata preserved within Tō’on-ryū. Beyond the training itself, we also visited several places connected to the tradition. We were able to see the former school of Jūkō sensei in Kumamoto, as well as the former barracks of Yabu Kentsū sensei, who is associated with Tō’on-ryū through the kata “Yabu no Jion.”

Our time in Kumamoto also included a visit to the Miyamoto Musashi Shrine, where Miyamoto composed his renowned treatise Gorin no Shō, better known in the West as The Book of Five Rings.

After the earlier stages of the journey, our stay in Kumamoto felt far too short. From there, it was time to return to Germany—to my family, to my private dōjō, and to my desk—where two long-awaited books were steadily approaching completion.

Beppu has by now become a familiar city to me. This year marks my fourth visit, and while I know some areas particularly well, others still remain largely unexplored. Beppu possesses a unique atmosphere that is difficult to find in Germany. On the one hand, there is the sea, which is also present in my home region; yet here the mountains rise almost immediately behind it—a geographical feature we do not have in this form in Germany.

My journey took me from Ryūgasaki first by train to Haneda Airport, and from there by plane to Ōita Airport. An airport express bus then brought me to Beppu. As in all the previous years, I stayed at the same hotel—one with an onsen—where I relaxed my muscles twice a day in order to cope with the demands of the intensive daily training.

Prior to my arrival, I had written two Japanese articles about Kyoda Jūhatsu, which I had not yet been able to read in printed form. This time, however, the magazines were sent directly to Beppu, allowing me to receive them there in person.

As in previous years, my daily training followed a familiar rhythm, with a clear focus on deepening and refinement. I also had the opportunity to take my first dan examination in Beppu. Although I had originally decided not to write about my gradings, I feel it is important to mention this occasion, as there will be more to report on it in the future. On Saturday, most members of Tō’on-ryū came together to celebrate, and I am truly grateful to be part of this community.

In addition to the daily training sessions, extensive note-taking, and regular visits to the onsen, I took walks almost every day through Beppu Park and also visited the Ōita Prefectural Library to learn more about the history of the city and the individuals associated with Tō’on-ryū. I also visited several shrines in Beppu to pray for my family and all the friends around me.

I also visited the former house of Kyoda Jūkō sensei, where he lived with his father, as well as the graves of the Kyoda family and the grave of Kanzaki Shigekazu, where I offered prayers for their souls. I expressed my gratitude for being part of Tō’on-ryū Karate-dō and promised to train even more deeply than before.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank all members of Tō’on-kai and Ikeda sensei for the many instructive training days, and I hope to return again as soon as possible, just as I do in Ryūgasaki.

After my stay in Beppu, I traveled together with Ikeda sensei to a very special place—one where research into Tō’on-ryū takes precedence above all else.

Yesterday, before my second training session, I spent some time in the Ōita Prefectural Library, a place I had never visited before. I have been, for example, dozens of times to the Okinawa Prefectural Library, but I had never gone to its Ōita counterpart.

Research in Okinawa is already very advanced. Many researchers have examined the material at a very high level; in fact, research in Okinawa is currently booming. Ironically, some sources in certain Western books are not as accurate as I would wish them to be. Given the notes and findings from the Okinawan side, it is much easier to locate information in the original sources—sources I have always tried to use. I am quite sure that there are many excellent translations of pre-war texts, for example by Motobu Naoki or Joe Swift, to name just a few. However, for me, the original text is always the primary goal, and I deeply believe that for my colleagues it is the same.

Now, returning to the Ōita Prefectural Library: as far as I know, no researcher has ever attempted to research the topic of Tō’on-ryū in Ōita and/or Beppu in any library. This was therefore a new experience, and I may well have been the first to conduct such research there. To my surprise, the newspapers are all available on microfilm. This was also the case in Okinawa when I went there in 2009; however, in recent years, the newspapers there have been printed out. After a short introduction to the microfilm machine, I became accustomed to exploring the newspapers, where I hoped to find relevant information.

After around three hours, I finished my research, and it was time to return to Beppu and prepare for my training. I found approximately one third of the material I was looking for. The remaining material is probably located in the Beppu City Library, which is currently closed. A new building will open at the end of next month, but unfortunately I will already be back in Germany by that time—an adventure goal for next year.

I will include the newly discovered information in my first book on karate history. Stay tuned.

Immediately after the demonstration at the Nihon Budōkan, I returned to my hotel to collect my luggage and then traveled directly to Ryūgasaki, located about an hour and a half north of Tōkyō. I had already seen Hayasaka Yoshifumi earlier at the Budōkan. Unlike the previous year, he did not give a demonstration in Matayoshi Kobudō this time, but instead presented a performance in Negishi-ryū, a shuriken school he inherited from Saitō Satoshi.

In Ryūgasaki, however, my focus once again lay entirely on Matayoshi Kobudō. Hayasaka instructed me once more in the kata Sōchin and introduced me to many other kata for the first time. He selected a few kata that he felt would guide me in my future training as well as in my research. In the field of kobudō, the training program again included the kata Shūshi no Kon, Nichō Sai, Sanchō Sai, and Chōun no Kon. In the field of Nanpa Shōrin-ha Tsuru Ken, the main focus was on the kata Pāpūren (Tsuru Sanchin), Kakufā, and Tan-kaku, as preparation for more advanced kata in the following years.

Hayasaka studied directly under Matayoshi Shinpō. Unlike many of Matayoshi Shinpō’s other students, however, he never lived on Okinawa, but instead traveled from mainland Japan to Okinawa during the summer months to study under Matayoshi. In this way, one might say that he built a connection—a bridge—to Okinawa at that time, a connection he continues to maintain to this day. He is currently the highest-ranking active student of Matayoshi Shinpō and remains affiliated with the Kōdōkan in Naha.

During the training sessions, he guided me extensively and also shared many stories—what I would also describe as “bridges”—about his visits to Okinawa and the many families he met together with Matayoshi Shinpō, for example the Chinen family, but also the Soeishi family. He also mentioned a visit and showed me many photographs of his time with Kakazu Mitsuo, who at that time was the last living student of Matayoshi Shinkō. In addition, he told me many stories about Kina Seikō sensei, an almost forgotten pioneer of Gōjū-ryū Karate-dō and a very early student of Miyagi Chōjun. Kina Seikō was also recently mentioned by Nakamura Tetsuji in his new book on Arakaki Shūichi (pp. 107–109).

The kobudō taught by Hayasaka differs in certain respects from what I had learned previously, and the transition still presents challenges for me. The kata themselves are identical, but certain body movements differ from those I had learned before. It feels neither right nor wrong to my body; rather, at times it feels as though I want to perform both versions simultaneously. Instead, my body must gradually adapt and absorb the new movement patterns.

At present, besides myself, only one other foreign student is studying Matayoshi Kobudō under Hayasaka: Angelo from Italy. Thus, the two of us are currently based in Europe. In this way, I am able to build a bridge from Germany to Ryūgasaki, and I am deeply grateful to Hayasaka sensei for accepting me as his student.

Alongside the training sessions at the Ryūgasaki Kōdōkan, I once again had the great fortune to learn much about the history of Matayoshi Kobudō and to consult several valuable books from Hayasaka sensei’s personal collection—a privilege I had already enjoyed the previous year. In closing, I would like to thank him once again for the highly instructive training and express my hope to return as soon as possible.

Already in the previous year, I had the good fortune to write a report on the 48th Nihon Kobudō Enbu Taikai. All the greater, therefore, was my pleasure to once again be able to write about this special event in the present year.

In contrast to the previous year, different ryūha were represented this time. This gave me the opportunity to become acquainted with new schools, to see the performers for the first time, and thus to gain fresh impressions and new insights.

In the field of karate, a group of the TOGKF under the leadership of Terauchi Kazuo was represented this year, as well as a group of the Itosu-ryū under the guidance of Sakagami Sadaaki. The program was further complemented by Motobu-ryū under the leadership of Motobu Tomoyuki, the new sōke of Motobu-ryū. Only recently, he had assumed leadership of the school from his father, Motobu Chōsei—the son of Motobu Chōki. The demonstration featured Motobu Udun-dī, a tradition that was returned to the Motobu family through Uehara Seikichi.

As in the previous year, I entered the Budōkan from the same side. The path once again led me across a bridge and through the Tayasumon (Tayasumon Gate) up to the Budōkan. In that moment, it became clear to me that this bridge was more than merely part of the route. It stood as a symbol of my own journey—from archives and books, from written sources and historical research, toward living encounters and immediate experience. Crossing the bridge thus became a quiet transition: from the attentive observation of the participants and their demonstrations to the later act of putting the experience into words, from detached viewing to conscious participation, from writing to living.

Inside the Budōkan itself, I encountered many familiar faces and followed the demonstrations with great interest—carried by the feeling of once again being in a place where the past and present of budō are naturally interwoven.

My special thanks goes to Ogawa Takashi, editor of Gekkan Hiden, for once again placing his trust in us and giving us the opportunity to report on this significant event.

For a long time, I had wished to visit the Kōmeikan dōjō of Miyagi Tōru sensei. It is located in the greater Tōkyō area and was originally founded by his father, Miyagi Takashi, the eldest son of Miyagi Chōjun. Miyagi Takashi had gone to mainland Japan before the war and settled there, where he later established the dōjō. Miyagi Tōru learned karate from his father, who in turn had been taught directly by Miyagi Chōjun. Karate is therefore deeply rooted within the family, and Miyagi Tōru’s sons are also continuing this tradition through their own practice.

At this point, I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Hans Tanaka, who kindly established direct contact for me and generously supported me throughout my visit.

My primary objective was to examine the connection to Tō’on-ryū more closely. In this context, I had heard that Miyagi Takashi had once traveled to Beppu in order to receive instruction in the kata Sanseirū. Although he had already learned this kata from his father before the war, oral tradition maintains that Takashi also went to Beppu specifically for further training. Miyagi Tōru sensei provided me with some insights into this story, which I will reveal in a later English translation of my Gekkan Hiden articles.

Already in the previous year, I had the opportunity to ask Koyama Masashi sensei about the Sanseirū of Iraha Chōkō. Koyama Masashi learned this version during his visit to Okinawa in 1977, and it differs slightly from the kata preserved in Beppu today. It was therefore all the more gratifying to be able to observe the version practiced at the Kōmeikan dōjō as well.

As I had previously written about Miyagi Tōru’s grandfather and his journey to Hawaii in 1934, it was a great pleasure to speak with Miyagi Tōru about his grandfather’s journey to Hawaii. Miyagi Chōjun was an early karate pioneer who sought to build bridges not only on mainland Japan, but also on the island of Hawaii. A great surprise came when Miyagi Tōru opened several small treasures for me and allowed me to examine them more closely—among them were books containing previously unseen newspaper articles from Hawaii, as well as much other interesting material.

After the training session, during the time spent talking afterward, Miyagi Tōru sensei surprised me by taking me to the Miyagi family tomb in Tōkyō.

In that moment, it felt as though a bridge had been built—formed both by my written words and by the train journey from my hotel to the dōjō of Miyagi Tōru sensei. I sincerely hope to have the opportunity to visit him again in the future.

It was both an honor and a great pleasure to meet the Miyagi family in person, including Miyagi Tōru’s second son, Miyagi Manobu sensei, as well as the many kind and very welcoming students of the Kōmeikan dōjō. I am deeply thankful for the opportunity to take part in a three-hour training session, as well as for the extensive time spent together afterward; altogether, I was away from my hotel for more than twelve hours.

My journey to Japan begins today, and I want to invite you to join me, even if only a little, along the way. At Christmas, I shared a picture on my Facebook page, accompanied by the words:

“It is more important to build bridges than to destroy them.”

This thought will accompany me on my journey. I plan to describe my trip while reflecting on bridges – both real and metaphorical. To be precise, I have decided to divide this journey into seven chapters: Seven Bridges. Ironically, before I was born, there was already a song called “Über sieben Brücken musst du geh’n” (“You must go over seven bridges”), which was later even performed in English by Chris de Burgh.

The song carries a somewhat melancholic tone. My journey, however, is meant to be joyful and enlightening. But as the saying goes: every journey begins with the first step. For me, this first step leads from my front door to Hamburg Airport – the Hamburg Airport Helmut Schmidt – and from there to Frankfurt, Germany’s major international hub.

And here begins the first bridge – or more precisely, a tunnel that functions much like a bridge. It connects places that would otherwise be difficult to reach. In Frankfurt, it links the domestic and international sections of Terminal 1, passing directly beneath the passenger boarding bridges and the aircraft parking positions. In this way, it forms a connection that ties passengers, terminals, and operations together – a kind of “underground bridge” right in the heart of the bustling airport. From here, my journey continues without interruption, directly to Tōkyō – my first, temporary stop in Japan.

Not long ago, reaching Japan from Europe was only possible with great effort – either via the long route of the Trans-Siberian Railway or by ship. In between, there were the first flights with multiple stopovers, which felt more like an expedition than a single flight. These early routes connected continents, but required patience, time, and a sense of adventure. It wasn’t until the 1980s that nonstop flights made a direct connection possible, greatly simplifying travel. In 2008, I had the chance to travel to Japan – specifically Okinawa – for the first time. Back then, my route still went from Frankfurt to Taipei and then onward to Okinawa.

Travel has become much more comfortable since then, and I hope to get some sleep on the plane… because many more bridges in Japan await me. Of course, many karate-related experiences and other fascinating things are waiting for me this time, and I will describe them in detail in the coming days.

Until then… wish me a good rest over the clouds.

I also consider myself a book collector — a passion that probably began around 2006, shortly after I started my martial arts journey. From the very beginning, I purchased many books by well-known masters, as well as a small number of Japanese books. At that time, I mainly focused on my own style, which was Shōtōkan — the same style practiced by many German karateka.

However, once I began studying Matayoshi Kobudō, I also started collecting a wide range of books on Okinawan and Ryūkyū Kobudō. I was quite fortunate during that period, as Henning Wittwer and Andreas Quast published their first book, and Mario McKenna was just about to complete his translation of Karate-dō Taikan by Nakasone Genwa. I purchased a copy from him immediately and was also able to obtain a signed copy at that time.

As I delved deeper into historical research, my focus gradually shifted more toward historical studies rather than purely technical ones. Of course, I still enjoy reading technical manuals, but training should primarily take place in the dōjō — not in front of a book or a screen. Over the years, I have therefore acquired more and more historical material, and I am still collecting today. More precisely, I am constantly searching for specific Japanese books that are still missing from my collection.

I have great respect for book collectors, and I am in frequent contact with several of them. We compare collections, exchange feedback, and sometimes I even share my opinion on what constitutes a fair price.

While I truly enjoy collecting books, I equally enjoy reading them — or, more accurately, working with them as sources. For this reason, I regularly search for very rare books, and fortunately, I am often able to locate them. From time to time, a sought-after book turns out to be sitting on the bookshelf of a fellow karateka who shares the same passion for karate literature.

Keep collecting — and let us share our experiences together.

One third of our Tō’on-ryū series has already been published and has, gratifyingly, generated a great deal of positive feedback. It is therefore time to take a quick look at the following article. This contribution focuses on the Chinese martial artist from Fuzhou who is known in Japan primarily under the name “Go Kenki”.

The article is based not only on written sources but once again also on on-site interviews.