One day, the samurai known as Bokuden sat quietly in a ferry boat, heading from shore to shore. While sitting, head bowed, he listened as another samurai, a broad shouldered ruffian of a man, bragged about his exploits, the number he had slain and his conquests, insulting his fellow passengers with great sweeping, boisterous laughs. About halfway across, the ruffian said, “You, fellow samurai. You carry a sword like me. Why do you not have anything to say about your adventures? What style do you practice?”
Bokuden looked up through his eyebrows and said, “I practice the style of ‘not using my hands’. At this the other samurai laughed.
“So you say you could win against me without using your blade?”
Nonchalantly, Bokuden nodded.
The ruffian raised his arms. “So it is settled. Right here and now, let’s do battle!” The aggressor cried, ready to draw his sword.
Bokuden raised his hand. “But wait. There are many people here, and we will no doubt harm them. They would simply get in our way. I see an island not too far from here. Let’s duel upon the beach, shall we?”
The ruffian nodded, and said, “Very well,” blood boiling.
In a few minutes time, they hit the shore of the small island. The ruffian ran off the boat onto the sands, drawing his sword and throwing it’s sheath. He pointed at Bokuden from afar. “NOW! Come on out here and show me your ‘no hands’ style!” He yelled.
Bokuden stood up, taking his katana and gently handing it to the oarsman. Bokuden’s gentle gaze fell on the samurai, and before anyone blinked, the oars were in Bokuden’s hands, and he had kicked off of shore, rowing back out into the waves of the sea. The bully ran out into the water, but was too late, almost drowning as he headed back to the shore of his tiny island. Bokuden smiled.
“See? No hands.”
