The Bloodless Duel of Miyamoto Musashi

After posting the story about Jubei over the weekend, I got to thinking that another story from the Yagyu family might help illustrate the lessons of Jubei's actions in his duel.

It seems that nearly everyone has heard of Miyamoto Musashi, and most Americans would probably say that he was the greatest swordsman who ever lived. They'd be wrong. If you've heard of Musashi, you've probably also familiar with his impressive record of sixty undefeated duels. While many of these are notable stories, the truth is that the majority of his opponents were carefully selected for the fact that their reputation far outstripped their actual skill. But not all. There is a lament among Musashi fans that he never tested his skill against the "A-list" swordsman of his day. But, as we will see, that's not quite true either.

Musashi's modus operandi was typically the same as the ronin in Jubei's tale. He would stroll into town, find the swordsman with the best reputation and either challenge him to a duel or ask him for a "lesson." By defeating these men, he built his own reputation. And when Musashi arrived in Edo (modern Tokyo), he wasted no time in requesting a meeting with Jubei's father, Yagyu Munenori.

Munenori had built his reputation on the battlefield and served Tokugawa Ieyasu in his struggle to become shogun. Munenori's art was the Shinkage Ryu, and not only had he mastered the armed sword techniques, Munenori pioneered the Shinkage Ryu techniques of meeting a swordsman with empty hands and disarming him. It was after demonstrating these techniques to Ieyasu that Munenori was awarded the position of sword instructor to the Shogun's family.

As a martial artist, Munenori was in an especially visible position, and everybody wanted to knock him down from it. Any martial artist worth his salt was at least benchmarking himself against the Yagyu. Additionally, as a member of the Shogun's household, Munenori was a symbol of the Shogun's power.

Munenori sent a speedy reply to Musashi. In the letter, he regretted that he was feeling under the weather and could not offer full competency in his current condition. He would, therefore, have to decline Musashi's request at this time. Sent with the letter was a single, cut flower. Musashi left Edo and never again sought Yagyu Munenori.

The story is usually explained that Musashi looked at the cut stem of the flower and realized it had been severed by a perfect sword cut. Perhaps this is true. Modern forensic experts can easily determine the kind of instrument that makes a cut, and the geometry of a sword blade makes a unique cut. Musashi was an expert with his sword, and surely would have the experience to recognize a clean sword cut. The implication is that through that cut, Musashi saw Munenori's mastery and realized that to fight such a man meant that the best possible outcome of a duel would be mutual death -- ai uchi. That would be senseless.

But as I've thought about this over the years, I've decided the perfect cut only illustrated a code in the letter. It was the letter instead that told the real mastery of Munenori. Duels are not settled by perfect cuts, they are settled by timing and distancing. (The lessons Jubei's story taught us.)

The perfect poise of Munenori's letter was like a perfect, impenetrable defensive posture. Had Munenori curtly dismissed Musashi as a mere ronin, he would've signaled weakness. Had he hidden behind his status as the Shogun's vassal he would've signaled cowardice. Claiming illness was not a dishonorable lie, but the feint of a master swordsman who leaves a deliberate opening to draw his opponent to a specific attack. The issue of sickness created a no-win situation for Musashi. Had he rudely insisted on a duel and won, the "illness" would preserve the dignity of both the Yagyu and the Shogun. After all, Musashi would've beaten a "sick" man. Had Musashi lost, it would've only increased the stature of the Yagyu as the premier sword school, because even the "ailing" master's techniques would be proven superior to the young upstart.

Had this been all the letter said, Musashi's withdrawal would've been the equivalent of an ai uchi and proven relatively equal mastery between both men. But Munenori's carefully crafted letter included one more sly line. Munenori asked Musashi to consider returning when he felt better.