What are you willing to give up?
"Obsessed madness?"
This article is going to contain some major spoilers for the manga シグルイ (Shigurui: Death Frenzy). It also might contain some distressing subject matter. You have been warned.
Background
When I first arrived in Japan I spent a lot of time reading manga to study Japanese. When I was reading manga in English back in the UK the subject matter was quite light, but when I got to Japan I had access to manga with more serious themes. At one point I came across a manga called シグルイ (Shigurui : Death Frenzy) by 山口貴由 (Yamaguchi Takayuki), which is a historical fiction story based around the death of the Daimyō 徳川忠長 (Tokugawa Tadanaga). Without going into too much detail, in 1626 Tadanaga “committed acts of violence” in addition to killing a retainer, and after being placed under house arrest for several years committed seppuku in 1634 (a very unusual act for a high lord).
The story of Shigurui centers around what those “acts of violence” were and interpreted them as Tadanaga hosting 真剣勝負 (Shinkenshōbu: duels with live blades) for his own amusement.
The story very deep, is written is a form of Japanese that is quite difficult to read, and has a lot of lessons (both good and bad) that have been living rent free in my head since I read (and re-read) the story.
And one of the plots in Shigurui that is very applicable to life is the story of how one man took things too far for power.
The tragedy of Ushimata Gonzaemon
牛股権左衛門 (Ushimata Gonzaemon) is an absolute hulk of a man. He is introduced in the story as one of the instructors of the 虎眼流 (Kogan Ryu) style who can dual wield huge wooden swords (かじき : Kajiki) as if they are regular swords. The headmaster of the style, 岩本虎眼 (Iwamoto Kogan) cuts Ushimata’s mouth into a wide smile when not getting a straight answer about which of the students has the strongest “seed.” (Kogan only had one daughter and no sons, and was obsessed with the thought of having a grandson to continue his legacy).
On my first read through of Shigurui I wondered why Ushimata himself was not “worthy of the task”…but the answer came later.
At one point the story cuts back to Ushimata as a youth when he was called 牛股権三郎 (Ushimata Gonzaburō). He is speaking to a girl called ふく(Fuku) under a cherry blossom. Fuku is the girl he is betrothed to marry when he comes of age. He promises her, “In three years I will return and I will stand before you as a swordsman.” He then sets off to learn the way of the sword.
Even as a youth he is unusually strong, with his strength being compared to that of a wild boar. He was shunned by many of his peers due to this strength and could not advance his swordsmanship due to lack of opponents. He eventually found his way to the Kogan school where his strength was applauded (“not a wild boar, but an ox”) and he was brought before Kogan Sensei who demonstrated his sword skills on him (cutting a bean placed on Ushimata’s forehead in four with two perfect strokes). With that he was “dedicated to the school.”
For the first part of his training he was told to stand in a forest, striking trees with a wooden sword. After three days he had knocked down several trees, but Kogan Sensei would not even meet his eyes. He trained without sleep, he trained in the rain, and he kept striking trees like his life depended on it. The skin of his hands became thick and he could cut tatami with a wooden sword as if he were using a katana. But he was still ignored by Kogan.
This continued for one year. Then two years. And after the third year of being ignored, Ushimata broke down and begged to know why he was not allowed to train.
縄に繋がれし牛は連れては行けぬ (An ox bound with a rope cannot be led away)
- Kogan Sensei
In Asia, bonds between soul mates are often thought to be symbolized by a red thread (or rope) that binds them together. Though Ushimata had never spoken about his promise to Fuku, Kogan Sensei had seen through him and determined that he could not truly dedicate himself to the style while being bound elsewhere.
One year later, with his hair cut into a topknot, wearing two swords, and with a new name (権左衛門 : Gonzaemon) he returned to the spot he promised to meet Fuku. Saying nothing, she embraces her betrothed, and with one motion he cuts her in half. After this action, Ushimata castrates himself with his bare hands to fully dedicate himself to the Kogan style.
Interpretation
There are a lot of layers to Ushimata’s story. He begins with a promise to his love that he would see her again in three years as a swordsman. He is one year late when he meets her again, but the next time he sees her, he is a swordsman. Better late than never? I’d like to think he made the promise originally because he loved Fuku and because she was more important to him than anything else in the world. But after becoming obsessed with the thought of being the greatest swordsman he could possibly be, he lost sight of his original promise and fully dedicated himself to something else. Killing Fuku would probably have satisfied Kogan that he dedicated himself to the style, but as a final act of defiance(?) he castrates himself to keep his vow to Fuku. (If he could not be with Fuku, he would be with no other woman).
One of the main underlying themes of Shigurui comes from a line in a famous samurai book called 葉隠 (Hagakure: Hidden by leaves) which is as follows:
「武士道は死狂ひなり。一人の殺害を数十人して仕かぬるもの」
（武士道は死に狂いである。一人を殺すのに数十人がかりでかなわないこともある）
Bushido is a death-obsessed madness. Sometimes it takes dozens to kill a single man. - 山本常朝 (Yamamoto Tsunetomo)
A lot of the character arcs in the story focus on grudges, ambitions, pride, and obedience that is (in the end) all ultimately pointless. But even within this absence of purpose, there are some people that strive to do their best, perhaps thinking that if they do the best at something that may ultimately be pointless that their lives will have some deeper meaning.
Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. But as I mentioned, some of these stories (for better or worse) have been living rent free in my mind for quite some time.
What do you want to be and what are you willing to give up?
There is a saying I frequently use with regard to self improvement:
“The suffering we willingly put ourselves through is the currency with which we buy greatness.”
It doesn’t matter what you pursue. You need to apply yourself and do things you don’t really want to do in order to become better. If you want to be good at academics you need to spend a long time studying and applying the knowledge you learned in the real world. If you want to be a good martial artist you need to spend a long time training both physically and mentally (稽古 (keiko) is both a physical and mental pursuit). If you want to be a good runner you need to spend hours running and fitting in blood burning workouts. You get out what you put in.
Personally, I want to be good at many things while also having balance in my life. But that in itself is a ‘problem’ if I want to hit the highest of highs in any of the things I do.
If I want to be an extremely high level iaidō practitioner I would need to practice iaidō every day and not waste time on running, karate, or any other aspect of my life that doesn’t involve iaidō. The same logic would occur if I wanted to maximize my running or karate output. Hard training alone may not be enough. And that’s when my mind drifts back to Ushimata’s story and the fact that he gave up everything to become an unstoppable swordsman.
I have given up things I used to enjoy. In my youth I watched a lot of movies, played a lot of video games, and drank alcohol. Now I don’t drink alcohol at all and most of my entertainment comes in the form of listening to audiobooks as I run. These are things I was willing to give up to focus on other aspects of my life. But there are some things I’m not willing to sacrifice to speed things along.
A while ago I was told that I would be a better runner if I lost some of the muscle I was carrying around. And that’s true. I would indeed be quicker if I reduced my muscle (especially in my arms and shoulders), but that would likely make me worse at karate. I was also told by a karate senior that I would be stronger and more resilient if I gained more muscle. Again, that’s true. But it may also slow me down and make long distance running difficult or even impossible (if taken to the extreme).
So what do I want to be? I would like to be a balanced person who is good at everything. Does that mean I am destined to be a jack of all trades but a master of none? Possibly. But I only have so much coin in the form of “suffering I’m willing to put myself through” to spend and I am satisfied with the way I’m distributing it.
How about you? Could you give more? If so, is the price worth it?
Final thoughts and take home messages
I have been wanting to write an article focused on this Shigurui story for a long time. I felt like I needed to wait until the opportune moment came along to write it. I have recently spoken to people who have told me the lengths they’ve needed to go through in order to get to the top of their game in one aspect of life, and some of their stories made me think that I could not possibly dedicate myself to that degree without giving up too much of myself.
In Shigurui, Ushimata gave up everything to become the best swordsman he could be. Those who have read the whole manga will know that there is no happy end…for anyone. It’s all just “obsessed madness.” And while I can admire the determination of someone who makes sacrifices to become the best, Ushimata took this too literally and took it way too far. It could be argued that he was driven mad by standing in a forest alone for years smashing trees down with a wooden sword, but he also could have walked away at any point. Everything was his own decision whether he realized it or not. (Whether that makes him more or less sympathetic is up for interpretation).
I know what it takes to be better at literally anything I choose to engage with. If you are not good at something, you need to apply yourself to it until you get better. And most of the time, that is not pleasant. I don’t care if your endorphins flow after a hard training session. Just last weekend I ran a PB for my half marathon and although I felt great after, I spent a good hour of that cursing my very existence and wanting to just give up. It’s the suffering we willingly put ourselves through that makes us great.
And finally, if you cut things out of your life that will give you more capacity to focus on things that are important to you. Just make sure that when you make those cuts you don’t cut anything (or anyone) important.
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