The story takes place during Japan’s Edo period and centers around a renowned tea master who served a powerful noble. In Japan, the philosophy of “tea and Zen as one” was widely embraced — practicing the tea ceremony was considered not just a cultural art, but also a form of spiritual cultivation.
One day, the noble needed to travel to the capital and couldn’t bear to leave his trusted tea master behind. “Come with me,” he said, “so you can prepare my tea every day.” The tea master was hesitant. “I have no martial arts skills,” he replied. “What if something happens on the road?”
His master reassured him: “Just carry a sword and dress like a samurai. No one will trouble you.”
So reluctantly, the tea master donned samurai robes, strapped on a sword, and followed his master to the capital.
A deadly challenge from a wandering swordsman
One afternoon, while the master was away, the tea master found himself wandering the streets alone. Suddenly, a rogue swordsman — a rōnin — appeared and challenged him.
“You’re a samurai too? Let’s duel,” the rōnin said.
The tea master tried to explain: “I’m no warrior. I’m just a tea master.”
But the rōnin sneered. “Wearing a samurai’s clothes without the skill to back it up is an insult to the warrior’s honor. You deserve to die!”
Knowing he couldn’t escape, the tea master responded: “Please, give me a few hours. Let me finish my duties for my master. I’ll meet you by the pond this afternoon.”
The rōnin agreed. “Be there,” he said, and walked away.
Seeking the most dignified way to die
With little time left, the tea master rushed to the most respected martial arts school in the city. Outside, crowds of aspiring warriors gathered to train. Pushing his way through, the tea master approached the grandmaster directly.
“Please,” he begged, “teach me the most honorable way for a samurai to die.”
The grandmaster was stunned. “Everyone comes here to learn how to live. You’re the first to ask how to die. Why?”
The tea master recounted his encounter with the rōnin. “I’ve never fought anyone. I only know how to make tea. But today, I have no choice. I just want to die with dignity.”
The grandmaster considered his words. “Very well. First, make me a cup of tea.”
Surprised, the tea master nodded. “This may be the last tea I ever prepare.”
He carefully lit the small brazier and watched the mountain spring water come to a gentle boil. He rinsed the leaves, filtered the infusion, and slowly poured the tea with great precision and grace. Every motion was calm and purposeful.
The grandmaster watched the entire process in silence. After taking a sip, he exclaimed: “This is the finest tea I’ve ever tasted. You no longer need to die.”
“But… you haven’t taught me anything,” the tea master said.
The grandmaster smiled. “I’ve taught you all you need. Face that swordsman the same way you made tea — with complete focus, clarity, and peace.”
A warrior’s illusion
That afternoon, the tea master arrived at the pond. The rōnin was already there and drew his sword immediately. “You came. Good. Let’s fight!”
But the tea master remembered the grandmaster’s advice and approached with the mindset of preparing tea.
He looked the rōnin in the eye and smiled. Then, calmly and deliberately, he removed his hat and placed it neatly to the side. He slowly untied his robe, folded it carefully, and placed it under the hat. Next, he tightened the sleeves of his inner garment and bound his pant legs. Every motion was deliberate, serene, and unhurried.
As he prepared himself, the rōnin began to feel uneasy. The tea master’s calm gaze, steady smile, and complete composure unsettled him. He couldn’t sense any fear — only quiet confidence.
When the tea master finally drew his sword, he raised it into the air and held it there, still and ready — though he had no idea how to use it.
Suddenly, the rōnin dropped to his knees. “Please forgive me!” he cried. “You’re the most formidable warrior I’ve ever faced.”
The true power behind the sword
What kind of martial skill allowed the tea master to win without a fight?
It wasn’t technique. It was inner strength — an unshakable calm, clarity of purpose, and the courage to face death with dignity. This was the true “martial art” he unknowingly mastered through years of practicing tea.
In the end, it’s not always skill that matters most. Sometimes, what lies beyond technique — our mindset, presence, and heart — is what truly determines victory.
Translated by Joseph Wu
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