Every martial artist eventually develops a special relationship with their tools of practice. A weapon is not simply an object used to perform techniques; through years of training, repetition, and personal experiences, it becomes part of the practitioner’s journey. For me, this connection began with my first bokken—the wooden sword that introduced me to the fascinating worlds of kenjutsu and iaijutsu.

Its story ended unexpectedly, but its role in my development will never be forgotten.

The Farewell of My First Bokken

A Weapon That Opened a New World

My first bokken was not a prestigious Japanese weapon.

It came from Decathlon.

Yet its value was never determined by its origin.

That simple piece of wood accompanied me through the first steps of my martial journey. It helped me discover sword practice, understand movement, and experience the discipline that comes with training.

When it finally broke, I decided immediately that I would keep both pieces.

After all, it deserved that respect.

It was the weapon that opened the door.

A Small Promise to the New Bokken

When I received my new bokken, I jokingly imagined introducing it to the old one.

I wanted to show it what happened to weapons that refused to «whistle.»

At that moment, I felt a strange sense of austerity.

Almost like a strict teacher warning a new student:

«Understand your responsibilities, because this is what happens if you don’t cooperate.»

Perhaps I wanted to intimidate the new arrival.

Perhaps I wanted it to understand that training seriously mattered.

But the truth is, I had no idea what kind of relationship was about to begin.

Meeting Yuuki

A Different Feeling From the First Touch

I received my new bokken from Sensei.

From the first moment I held it, something felt different.

It fit.

Not perfectly in a technical sense—I still have much to learn—but physically, naturally.

It was:

• Lighter.
• Thinner.
• More comfortable.
• Better balanced.
• Easier to hold.

The handle was not oversized.

My hand seemed to wrap around it naturally.

The connection felt completely different.

During the first training session, the feeling was almost overwhelming.

A series of small discoveries.

A series of:

«Wow.»

Understanding the Meaning of Connection

When the Weapon Becomes Part of the Body

For a long time, I heard Sensei speak about the importance of connection.

The idea that the weapon should become an extension of the body.

I understood the words intellectually.

But I didn’t truly understand the feeling.

My first bokken had a thicker handle that never completely matched my hand. Because of that, my grip always felt slightly disconnected.

It was as if we were two separate things:

Me.

And the weapon.

There was always a small gap between us.

A New Sensation

With Yuuki, the concept began to make sense.

The weapon no longer felt like something I was holding.

It felt like something I was moving with.

The difference is subtle, but enormous.

A well-fitted weapon changes everything:

• The way the hand closes.
• The way the wrist moves.
• The way the body transfers power.
• The way intention travels through the movement.

I cannot say that I have completely understood this principle yet.

But now I know what Sensei meant.

I have felt the beginning of that connection.

A 50-Year-Old Teacher Made of Wood

Respect Replaced the Threat

• After the first training session, I remembered my original plan.
• I would introduce Yuuki to my old bokken.
• A friendly warning.
• A lesson about what happens when a bokken refuses to cooperate.
• Then Sensei told me something unexpected.
• The new bokken was from Japan.
• And it was older than me.
• Approximately fifty years old.
• That completely changed my perspective.
• Suddenly, I was no longer holding a new object.
• I was holding a piece of history.
• A piece of wood that had been shaped decades ago.
• A weapon that existed before I ever began training.