Chapter 60: The Kyudo Competition Begins
By 9 a.m., all participants of the international archery competition had arrived at the venue on time.
Ever since the transformation of the national kyudo tournament into an international competition, it had achieved remarkable results.
The more accessible and mainstream form of modern archery had attracted archers from all around the world.
In addition to Asians, there were many European, American, and African participants, including foreign students currently studying in Japan.
Today, Shirou was representing his school in the kyudo individual competition.
Due to the revised format and an increased number of participants, the rules had also been adjusted. Matches were now held with five participants per group, shooting simultaneously while maintaining proper kyudo etiquette. The first to miss a target would be eliminated.
After a winner was determined in each group, they would leave the field.
Then the next group would take the stage.
Eventually, the final winners would progress to the next round, and the process would repeat.
By this time, the spectator stands were nearly full. One by one, people eagerly watched the entrance, waiting for the competitors.
When it was time for the next group to enter, participants in kyudo uniforms stepped out onto the field in an orderly manner.
When a certain young competitor took the stage, excitement lit up the eyes of the crowd.
His presence was so extraordinary that it instantly overshadowed the other competitors.
Shirou entered the field wearing a traditional white top and black hakama, carrying a bamboo bow he had crafted himself. He walked calmly to his position, set an arrow on the string with a composed expression, and stood there as naturally as if he were taking a stroll or having a meal.
Everyone held their breath and fixed their eyes on this lone figure standing out from the crowd. The indoor arena fell completely silent.
A crisp twang of the bowstring echoed in the space as the arrow flew straight and true—followed by the clear sound of a direct hit.
With calm composure, the young man retrieved his bow, wrapping the string around the outside of his elbow, then rested his hands gently on his hips, standing in place while awaiting the second round.
As a blend of martial technique and Confucian aesthetics, kyudo's essence is the pursuit of truth, goodness, and beauty.
The path to this essence lies in the mastery of shooting technique, ceremonial form, and bodily harmony.
The ultimate goal is correct shooting that must hit the target—"seisha hitchū."( true shooting, certain hitting)
This process demands more than just aim—it involves proper use of muscle, coordination of the body, and spiritual focus.
If the shooting method is correct, the arrow will hit the target. That is truth. If the method is correct, one's body and mind will align with etiquette. That is goodness. If the method is correct, one's posture and form will be graceful. That is beauty.
During preparation, the competitor kneels in seiza within the dōjō.
After shooting the arrow, regardless of success or failure, they must not reveal any emotion.
Joy or regret must not show; instead, they maintain a serene composure throughout the process—neither arrogant nor humble—solemn and dignified, like a cultured noble.
This is the pursuit of truth.
Each shot is a new beginning.
Only with sincerity in the heart, sincerity in the bow, and reaching a state of unity between the archer and the bow can one release an arrow that is truly good and beautiful.
In all of these aspects, Shirou was flawless.
Maintaining that momentum, he advanced all the way to the finals in the afternoon—and won the competition with no suspense whatsoever.
If not for his youth, lack of affiliation to any established school, and his own lack of ambition, he would have already earned a considerable dan ranking by now.
After claiming victory, Shirou stepped down from the field. The award ceremony was scheduled for the third day of the tournament, so after a brief closing speech, the individual kyudo event came to an end.
At that moment, an elderly man with white hair, dressed in a kimono, slowly approached from the audience, surrounded by a crowd.
Shirou recognized him immediately—Kato Judan, a highly respected elder in Japanese kyudo, a true master of traditional archery, and a living national treasure.
Though perhaps not the fastest or most precise martial artist in the world, his understanding of classical kyudo was unmatched.
"Your natural form and relaxed control were wonderful," said the elderly master, his eyes filled with admiration. "Especially the ease and elegance of your release—it was magnificent. You might even rival the legendary archer Tōta who, they say, shot down a rebel general with a single arrow amidst an army of ten thousand.
Shirou-kun, would you consider becoming my disciple and studying kyudo under me?"
"Thank you for your generous offer," Shirou replied respectfully, "but kyudo is just a way for me to cultivate myself—it's a personal pursuit, not something I intend to take up as a career."
"I see. That's fine as well.
Whether it's kendo or kyudo, in the end, they are just means to cultivate one's character.
Life and career must come first—and sometimes, we must set things aside." The elder let out a sigh. "Still… what a pity. Your hands show the potential to become the Golden Hands of the Kato school."
He turned and walked away.
People around them looked at Shirou in disbelief. That was an invitation from one of Japan's top kyudo masters!
They assumed he was just young and naive, shook their heads, and turned to follow the old master.
"Master," one of his disciples asked curiously, "if you truly wished to take him as your disciple, why did you give up so easily?"
"Because I looked into the boy's eyes," the old master said quietly.
"His eyes?" the disciples looked even more puzzled.
"Those aren't the eyes of someone content with the present," he explained. "Locking him away in a room to perform kyudo would be cruel.
Those are the eyes of a hawk—meant to soar freely through the skies, pursuing a lofty and boundless ideal."
"A genius boy… with the eyes of a hawk?" one disciple murmured, half-understanding.
"If he can truly complete the trials this world will place before him in pursuit of that dream… what heights might his refined body and spirit reach? What level of strength might his kyudo attain?" the old man murmured to himself as he slowly walked out of the hall.
"Master, where are you going? There are still other matches," a disciple called after him.
"I'm going home. There's nothing more worth seeing.
Kyudo is not made strong through physical strength, but through spiritual strength.
If the soul truly exists, then by refining it endlessly, one might even reach the realm of a Kyudo God."
The old man walked out of the venue, satisfied. Seeing that boy today was already enough.
He hoped that in his lifetime, he might witness the arrow of legend, the one from the divine realm of kyudo, through that boy.
"Hey, come on! Isn't that such a waste?" said a curly-haired boy watching from the side of the field. He was a member of Kazemai High School, the strongest school in Kyoto. "If he won't accept Master Kato's offer, let me take it instead!"
"For him, maybe he doesn't need it," replied the black-haired ace of the team, who had taken second place in the match, speaking thoughtfully.
"What the hell does that mean? I don't get how you geniuses think," the curly-haired boy said, frowning at his team's ace.
"No, I'm no genius compared to him," the ace replied. "If it's kyudo, even among adults, there probably aren't many in the entire country who could beat him.
In fact, when I saw his posture and technique earlier… I felt like I was witnessing the shadow of an ancient divine archer—one who could strike down enemy generals from a hundred meters away with every shot."
"Captain, are you just giving up, then?" the curly-haired boy asked urgently.
"No. I might've lost the individual match—but I have no intention of giving up the team competition!" the ace declared.
"That's more like it! Even if our opponent's on a whole other level, all those sleepless nights and tireless training we've done weren't for nothing!" the curly-haired boy shouted, rekindling his fighting spirit.
Meanwhile, Shirou had just finished changing out of his kyudo uniform and exited the locker room when he was intercepted by Hiratsuka Shizuka.
"Well done, Shirou! I'm so touched!" Hiratsuka said, laughing heartily as she patted his back. "How's your condition? Can you keep this up and win tomorrow too?"
"I'm alright," Shirou replied. "But tomorrow's team match depends on how everyone performs."