The Grandmaster's book of Ninja training

54 Dr. Masaaki Hatsumi
J: You seem to consider ninjutsu training to be
rather straight-line taijutsu training only. How do
you feel about people adding other things—other
practices and teachings—to the training? Do you care
about it? What do you think about it?
H: I feel that, in the circumstances in which those
people work, and with the values that they have, it's
fine.
If their ability in ninjutsu is so limited, it can't be
helped. It is important that they should do what they
can to help their students understand, and so as to do
that, they may make use of these other things. But of
course, taijutsu must be made the basis—the main
ingredient. If it isn't, what is taught becomes like an
overdiluted cocktail where the alcohol no longer has
any effect, or like food without any flavor. It's all too
easy to go wrong in teaching ninjutsu.
J: Can you tell us a little bit about the other students
who studied with Takamatsu Sensei? For example,
could you tell us some more about Mr.
Akimoto?
H: Indeed, I think that Akimoto Sensei was a true
disciple of Takamatsu Sensei. He was a gentleman
who observed the traditions carefully, and he really
understood his own system of values well. For example—you
see, he was my senior in budo, and when the
title of Iemoto was handed down to me by our teacher,
although I was far younger than Akimoto Sensei, he
was really happy for me. I was still at that time not
really much of anything, and from Takamatsu
Sensei's point of view, Akimoto Sensei had many
far more developed skills than I did. For example, at
the Tone River once, he was wearing a sword,
and a skylark suddenly came flying past. In a
flash, his sword was out, and the dead bird fell to
the ground. That shows the level of skill he had. I
have heard many tales of his martial exploits, and I
know a lot of
The Grandmaster's Book of Ninja Training
stories of his encounters with prominent budo men
whom he defeated.
But the really important thing to realize in budo is
that technique alone is worthless if the man loses his
equilibrium, his inner balance. If a man does not
have some other major strength, it does not matter
how far he develops his technical skill—he will be
beaten in the end. So I reckon that Takamatsu Sensei
probably felt that a person needs to be born with
some other major talent whereby such a situation can
be prevented.
There were many others senior to me who were
also more skilled than I was, but I suppose now that I
was the guy who, in my teacher's view, could preserve
this tradition that had already been handed
down for over nine hundred years and who could
keep it alive satisfactorily one way or another. Then,
Takamatsu Sensei died, and for fifteen years I have
been thinking, "Oh, things are not satisfactory. . . .
I've got to do better.... This won't do...." And now,
I've just awakened, now that I've been to America
and back as Grandmaster of this school, to the fact
that things are OK, and progress is being made. As
Grandmaster, I've now introduced myself as
Toratsugu, the name that Takamatsu Sensei allowed
me to use. And then, as if in reply to all this, I was
elected to the Black Belt Magazine's Hall of Fame as
Instructor of the Year. To me this was as if
Takamatsu Sensei were saying to me, "It's OK, young
feller. You can call yourself the Iemoto . . . that's fine
now!"
The timing of the news of the Black Belt award,
which came just as I decided to assume the title of
Iemoto, was like Sensei remarking, "Yes, all right,
that's fine. Call yourself Grandmaster, too, if you
want to, son! You've done pretty well so far—I can see
that . . . !" This is what occurred to me at the time.
And quite apart from any happiness I felt, I thought
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