Rainfall

features? Maybe he did, and just wanted to take the
gaijin
test — although, in my experience, that was a game for
judoka
younger than he looked to be. And his English, or at least his pronunciation, was excellent. That was also odd. The Japanese who are most eager to pit themselves against foreigners have usually had the least experience with them, and their English will typically reflect that lack of contact.

    “Kochira koso onegai shimasu,”
I replied. My pleasure. I was annoyed that he had addressed me in English, and I stayed with Japanese.
“Nihongo wa dekimasu ka?”
Do you speak Japanese?

    “Ei, mochiron. Nihonjin desu kara,”
he responded, indignantly. Of course I do. I’m Japanese.

    “Kore wa shitsuri: shimasita. Watashi mo desu. Desu ga, hatsuon ga amari migoto datta no de . . .”
Forgive me. So am I. But your accent was so perfect that . . .

    He laughed. “And so is yours. I expect your judo to be no less so.” But by continuing to address me in English, he avoided having to concede the truth of his compliment.

    I was still annoyed, and also wary. I speak Japanese as a native, as well as I speak English, so trying to compliment me on my facility with either language is inherently insulting. And I wanted to know why he would assume that I spoke English.

    We found an empty spot on the tatami and bowed to each other, then began circling, each of us working for an advantageous grip. He was extremely relaxed and light on his feet. I feinted with
deashi-barai
, a foot sweep, intending to follow with
osoto-gari
, but he countered the feint with a sweep of his own and slammed me down to the mat.

    Damn, he was fast. I rolled to my feet and we took up our positions again, this time circling the other way. His nostrils were flaring slightly with his breathing, but that was the only indication he gave of having exerted himself.

    I had a solid grip on his right sleeve with my left hand, my fingers wrapped deeply into the cloth. A nice setup for
ippon seonagi
. But he’d be expecting that. Instead, I swept in hard for
sasae-tsurikomi-goshi
, spinning inside his grip and tensing for the throw. But he’d anticipated the move, popping his hips free before I’d cut off the opening and blocking my escape with his right leg. I was off balance and he hit me hard with
taiotoshi
, powering me over his outstretched leg and drilling me into the mat.

    He threw me twice more in the next five minutes. It was like fighting a waterfall.

    I was getting tired. I faced him and said, “
Jaa, tsugi o saigo ni shimasho ka
?” Shall we make this the last one?

    “Ei, so shimasho,”
he said, bouncing on his toes. Let’s do it.

    Okay, you bastard,
I thought.
I’ve got a little surprise for you. Let’s see how you like it.

    Juji-gatame,
which means “cross-lock,” is an arm-bar that gets its name from the angle of its attack. Its classical execution leaves the attacker perpendicular to his opponent, with both players lying on their backs, forming the shape of a cross. One permutation — classicists would say mutation — is called flying
juji-gatame,
in which the attacker launches the lock directly from a standing position. Because it requires total commitment and fails as often as it succeeds, this variation is rarely attempted, and is not particularly well known.

    If this guy wasn’t familiar with it, he was about to receive an introduction.

    I circled defensively, breathing hard, trying to look more tired than I was. Three times I shook off the grip he attempted and dodged around him as though I was reluctant to engage. Finally he got frustrated and took the bait, reaching a little too deeply with his left hand for my right lapel. As soon as he had the grip, I caught his arm and flung my head backward, launching my legs upward as though I were a diver doing a gainer. My head landed between his feet, my weight jerking him into a semicrouch, with my right foot jammed into his left armpit, destroying his balance. For a split second, before he went sailing over me, I saw complete surprise on his face. Then we were on the mat and I had trapped his arm, forcing it back against the elbow.

    He somersaulted over onto his back and tried to twist away from me, but he couldn’t get free. His arm was straightened to the limit of its natural movement. I applied a fraction more pressure but he refused to submit. I knew that we had about two more millimeters before his elbow hyperextended. Four more and his arm would