There is a term you will sooner or later hear in Japanese martial arts called ai-uchi.

It is often used in kendo; fencing with bamboo staves, but you may hear it in old-fashioned karate schools and the like. Ai-uchi, to most practitioners, simply means the two sides strike each other at the same time, so their points cancel out each other in a contest.

Sasama Yoshihiko, in Zusetsu Nihon Budo Jiten (p. 1, Kashiwa Shobo Kabushikigaisha, Tokyo 1982), offers a more in-depth definition. One old meaning of the term is actually to mean a kind of gang-tackling an enemy. When two or more people attack a single enemy at once, it is called ai-uchi, the ai (meaning mutuality) now meaning "group" attack. Like a kind of "swarming" used by police to subdue an unruly prisoner. Old records document instances of sannin-ai-uchi (three against one) and two against one attacks on the battlefield, in which groups of two or three footmen gang up and take down one samurai.

But the meaning of most importance to us martial artists is the concept of ai-uchi as "mutual strikes." Your strike hits the opponent the same time as his strikes you. So theoretically, both of you die.

There are a number of things to consider concerning ai-uchi. In a sportive contest of point-taking, like kendo or karate, it's a lot of fun to just go at it and strike the opponent without fear of much bodily injury, thanks to rules and protective gear. But the samurai were a conservative lot. Their philosophy of fighting and combat--which may surprise modern day martial arts people who strut and preen about their willingness to fight with anybody--was very, very reserved.

Their conclusions were that there were three things that can result from a real battle, and two out of three were very, very bad. The good result is if you win and the other side dies. The really bad result is if the other guy wins and you die, and finally the third still is bad news for you; ai-uchi is when both of you kill each other off.

Now, two out of three chances of killing your enemy might not be bad if you're fighting to defend someone else and you're willing to sacrifice yourself to save your lord and/or loved ones from the enemy attacker, as long as you destroy the other guy. But in terms of self-preservation, these are really lousy odds.

So really philosophical warriors, who thought about the consequences a lot, were quite reluctant to engage in real combat at the jump of the hat. Even if they were technically very good, there's no telling what chance and luck may bring to you...you could slip on a banana peel, for example, and so the lousiest warrior for the other side could take your head.

If he did have to go into battle, the classical warrior was pretty much resigned to accepting the fact that the odds were two to one that he'd be dead come the next day, all other things being equal.

There is another concept concerning ai-uchi, though, that should be considered. That is, if you and the opponent strike each other at the same time, then the best possible outcome of this unfortunate instance would be that you come out a little better than the other guy. "If he cuts your skin, cut his muscle; if he cuts your muscle, cut through to the bone..." goes the saying. This cannot be concluded in modern sportive duels in kendo or karate, but think about it. If one person can break a makiwara punching stand's solid wooden 2 X 4 in half with his punch, and the other person can barely punch through a paper bag, in modern karatedo sparring, and if the two of them struck each other at the same time, it would be ai-uchi.
Both points are equalled out. But if it was for real, one person would be out cold and the other person would have barely felt his opponent's blow.

Another saying that Sasama quotes (p. 10) is also quite colorful. "If he cuts your arm, cut off his neck." Whew. But that's the meaning. If you enter into battle, and you have ai-uchi, you may be bloodied, but you can salvage something if you can enter the engagement and cause greater damage to the other side. In modern strategic theory, this may be likened to engaging the enemy because you think you can bloody him more than he can hurt you, according to your capabilities and attrition rate.

Say you have overwhelming firepower. You can maneuver as you want to outflank the enemy and obtain every advantage, which one might say is a kind of "aikido" philosophy of outmaneuvering and disbalancing. But if the enemy and you meet on a field of battle and he attacks you at the same time you attack, you will probably absorb some losses. But if you can destroy the opponent, whacking him harder than he whacks you, you will win the day. So in this battlefield ai-uchi, you will accept some losses with the intention of inflicting a lot more losses on the enemy as both of you attack at the same time.

In real life terms, perhaps it means that no matter what, you win some, and you lose some. And sometimes you get just as much as you give. Or more.



When I first undertook the study of Kogen Itto Ryu Kendo and Iai-do under Kotaka Sensei, he used to tell me "open your mind to the universe, and your opponent becomes but a small part of it". It had taken me many years later, through consistent practice and hard work, to understand what he had meant by this statement. Our school encouraged all students early on to experiment using proper ma-ai (ie. tip to tip kissaki), and various kamaes, from Jodan to Waki-gamae. In doing this, the student was able to explore and learned early on that there was "no free lunch", ie. whenever you were in a swordfight, you must accept dying as a part of living, unlike other forms of martial arts, the chances of being killed or maimed is much higher in a swordfight! In using different Kamaes, the student explored the trade-offs offered by various postures. "I am willing to give up my do, in exchange I want your men", the attitude used in jodan, for example. This also encouraged them to learn the distance required to maintain position away from their opponents. Kotaka Sensei would say, "don't worry about blocking your opponent's sword". In a swordfight, when an opponent attacked you first, and you were able to counter-attack and kill him, then you would have been victorious, even if both of you were killed. If he cuts your men, counter-attack by cutting his, and the person with the strongest spirit will block and cut the opponent at the same time. Ai-Uichi! This was a very difficult concept to accept. Aren't we all concerned about survival deep down inside? Aren't we programmed for "flight or fight" reaction? Why can't I defend myself by blocking first, and then cutting the opponent later?

As the years progressed, I appreciated more and more Sensei's wisdom. By letting go of my fears, the opponent became a very small part of the big picture. All along, the real opponent was the person inside my head, not the one the other end of the shinai. I found joy in this new awareness, as well as inner tranquility. I finally didn't have to worry about any opponent, no matter how large, powerful, or skillful they were. During shiai, the openings became more apparent, and I was able to react and take advantage of them instantaneously. Our practice became harder and more furious. Multiple opponents. Multiple weapons. No-light and low-light conditions. Cold weather (we once practiced outside during winter time in Ohio, 30 degrees below zero). Hot, humid weather in the summertime. Finally, examination. There were 2 Rokudans from Chicago and New York, plus Kotaka Sensei. He would be the hardest judge to convince, I was very nervous. That probably turned out to be the longest day of my life, I can't still quite figure out how I got through it all. In Kogen Itto Ryu, we were required to pass both the Kendo, Iai-do and Kata portions before being awarded our Shodan. Five o'clock. Kotaka Sensei came out and shook our hands. I bowed deeply, gave Sensei a hug, and cried. My journey had just begun...