Back to the dojo… We spent the next three days working our unarmed knife defense.  By the end of those first four days, all of my fingers were bruised and swollen and at least one was fractured.  Nothing a little athletic tape couldn’t fix. We also had spent every spare minute whittling our training knives or sharpening our carving knives. Our right forearms (both of us are right handed) were completely worn out from the effort of carving and sharpening. By this time, we were a little frustrated that we had not spent anytime on knife offense.  We came to the dojo on our last day and confronted Kevin about the lack of offense instruction.  He smiled a knowing smile and then made us feel like we were in a Karate Kid movie. He pulled out a cardboard sheet with a series of numbered circles and lines on it.  He put it on the wall and told us to stand close to the wall.  He put lipstick on our now finished wooden training knife and told us to quickly slash the lines and thrust into the circles upon his calling off numbers.  The quicker he called the numbers and the tighter our movements became, I was amazed at my ability to put the knife exactly where I wanted it to go.  The knife seemed to be an extension of my arm.  It suddenly clicked: carving that wooden knife taught me blade control.  He clarified my realization: A knife is just a tool and is useless without an artist.  Work with your tools until they become a natural extension of your body, only then can you create works of art. Then he ordered me to step back and put the knife in my left hand.  He grabbed the end of it and easily twisted it out of my left hand.  He then told me to switch hands and use my right hand instead.  Once again he grabbed and twisted the wooden blade.  This time I was able to resist and counter his force.  Once again, it became obvious that all those hours of carving and sharpening by hand served more than one purpose.  All of that work had strengthened my grip incredibly.   He once again eloquently distilled the lesson: Your knife or gun is only useful if it is in your hand; hand strength is critical. Then he told me to square off with him with my wooden knife in my hand.  He told me to attack him and instantly my mind seemed to go blank.  In those few seconds I was standing there the aching of my fingers crept into my mind.  I remembered a thrust feint into a low snapping slash that he had hit me with snapping my fingers time and again yesterday.  I had seen him do it to me at least 20 times over the last two days.  I remembered that I always moved my hand up when he came with that attack. So I decided to throw that, yet aim 6 inches high with my slash.  I leapt forward and threw the feint and transitioned into the slash throwing it high. As I did this, his hand was already moving upward and my blade racked him on the knuckles.  I saw a grin spread across his scarred face.  I was expecting congratulations, but none came.  Instead I followed his eyes down to my groin where he had a second wooden blade pressed against my inner thigh under which my femoral artery and certain death lay. My final lesson was the most important and the same as my first: You will get cut in a knife fight. Stay tuned for Part 4…