I believe it was like the third time that she was around, maybe the second. Keiko started with a round of kirikaeshi, strikes delivered in fast succession to overwhelm the opponent with the strength of a mind bent of deliver one strike… and another, and yet another! as if there would be no stop ever. She faced one of us, it doesn’t matter whom really, and went on and on with a disconcerting and unending high pitch growl coming out. Later, at the time of individual encounters, she repeat it all over again. It wasn’t like facing any other one from our dojo, but more like facing a natural force, both disordered and unstoppable, unpredictable and certainly untamed.
In the tamed world that we humans have build there is coherence that rules, that is to be expected. So it happened that overwhelmed by our new sister in keiko, behind the fighting armor we expected an untamed and wild persona. Yet when having a drink together, sister stayed silent most of the evening. We wondered, now and then, if she would be dosing in dreams of faraway places, or persons. Eventually we shruged and let her be, going on with the combination of absurd nonsense and occasional brilliancy that our normal repartee abounded in. Repartee that once or twice that night, and the many more to follow, was cut sharp by one sentence, perhaps two. Delivered without the growl, but with the smile in between Cheshire and Siberia. Sharp and opportune, opening doors and windows yet unseen. To go back to her silence, right after.
It took us a while to realize, of course. Eventually, and perhaps more gradually than needed, we kind of got it. We have become soft indeed, in our world full of known rules and long ago learned traditions. Even our cats have become soft, purring and sleeping most of the day in a preferred couch. Nothing of that describes the wild hunter, she that will not disclose her presence. Until the last minute that is, too late for her prey. The strike having killed, or not, to the hunt she will be back, at her place of watch and observation. We might miss her, yet she would not miss us. Now that we train together, and we help our mutual mistakes, now that we know our weaknesses then, is still easy to forget who she is. Yet wait for the late night and her voice opening the space. Even better, wait for the confusion of the battle, when her voice turns into that growl. Then forget you will not that is a wild Siberian cat what you are facing.
