SECTION 3
GEKIRYUU [A RAPID CURRENT]

3. Saishuupatsu o Chikatta Okinawa Gasshuku
[Pledging a New Beginning at the Okinawa Training Camp]

The summer of the year I went solo, I went with all the members of my band to Okinawa. Because I wasn't very healthy, we stayed at a training camp in Okinawa for a long four and a half months to heal my body and my heart.

It was a physical training type boarding camp. In a place where there wasn't much of anything, we would wake up at 8 or 9 in the morning, go running till we got to the beach, train, and then go back.

Then we would write songs, and once it became evening, we'd go running again, eat dinner, take a break and talk, and then write songs till morning. We did this day after day every day.

The owner of one of the small restaurants we frequented always would smile at us and tell us "Ganbatteru ka~!" To me, he would say "Practice hard!"

For some reason, he seemed to think that we were part of a karate team from Tokyo.

When we trained, we didn't just go running, but we also punched sandbags, and with protective equipment, we practiced hand-to-hand combat. All my band members learned the basics of martial arts. Because of this, their fists were always extremely tired.

Seeing this was why the restaurant owner thought we were members of a karate team.

All of the band members are tall. My three bodyguards that I brought along were all 185 to 190 centimeters tall. Compared to them, at my 180 centimeters, I was shorter and slimmer.

Because of this, the owner thought I was a stand-in member on the team.

"Ganbare, karate team! I hope you soon become a regular member!"

Whenever he said this to me, I always remembered to keep calm.

One of my objectives in going to Okinawa was to write my album, but also the band members and I wanted to make ourselves stronger and tougher.

The first half of the year that I went solo was definitely not a smooth road. I had been under so much overwork and stress that I had been suffering from insomnia. The other members were also exhausted from stress.

So when the members, including me, felt it was time to heal ourselves, my relatives in Okinawa cooperated with us.

Until then, I hadn't been back to Okinawa in ten years. A part of me inside had always been keeping Okinawa at a distance.

There was a part of me that denied my heritage, but there is also a part of me that wanted to protect that heritage too. I was proud to be an Okinawan and of the Ryukyu race. On the other hand, a part of me was ashamed of that.

I have a lot of respect for my great-grandfather. Of course, I've never met him, but people have told me that he revitalized the town and that he was the founding father of my family. Ancestor worship still goes on in Okinawa, and to my family, my great-grandfather is like our "god."

Though everyone in my family looks different, one thing they all say is that I look exactly like my great-grandfather. They say that all the spiritual phenomenon that happens to me also happened often to my great-grandfather.

There is a word "kamidari" in the Okinawan language. In Okinawa, the ones who call up spirits and hear the words of the gods are mainly women and are called "shiro," "noro," or "yuta." It is very rare for a man to be born with these abilities.

My grandfather was one of those men who often experienced these "kamidari" abilities. So he would be able to see things before they happened.

This was told to me when I was a child, and though I respected my great-grandfather, originally I didn't like the thought of gods and ghosts.

There were times when I would forcefully do things out of my own pride. In times like those, I most likely pushed Okinawa further away from me.

The Okinawan training camp had just started when this happened:

In my family, in the group of the "shiro" that we had, the one with the most power was my grandmother, and she came to the camp. So she told me this.

"You've finally come home. Go to your great-grandfather's grave. Then, do what you believe is right. Because you don't need to worry. Instead, when people need your strength, then obediently lend it to them. Once in a while, come home, visit your great-grandfather's grave and let him see your smiling face. This is what you should do."

These words were difficult for me to understand. I didn't believe in spiritual things, so what was she talking about? There were also other related things. Gathering up my souls…things like that.

She said that I had confronted death on a constant basis because I hadn't been taking care of my souls. People all have many souls, and when you lose all of them, that is when you die. However, when a shock actually happens, without thinking about it, you leave a soul behind at whatever place it happened at. My grandmother told me this.

When I was seven years old, I drowned in the Yanbaru sea. Because I surely left one of my souls behind there, she said I was going to go get it back.

Yes…that was the first time I'd ever heard about something like losing a soul. I felt like saying to her, "How many years have passed since I was seven? Just hurry up and talk faster."

All the ceremonies and rituals didn't mean anything to me. "Am I supposed to pick this up?" I thought to myself.

I had always been in denial of all things such as sorcery or witchcraft. That's not to say that I believe in any of that now, either. It's just that I don't deny it all anymore. I have come to realize that if I sort through the things that were said by my grandmother and my great-grandfather and the senior members of my family, there is definitely meaning in them.

The things that I experienced as a child don't bring me any pleasant memories. They're very painful. So because of that, I came to have a part of myself deny all of it.

However, at this Okinawan training camp, being one of the descendents of those members of my family, I felt that I had found an accepting attitude towards my culture.

I think it is because of that. I become able to look myself in the eye in the mirror. My smile in the mirror became happy. Until then, I hadn't wanted to see myself, but I finally became able to. Should I say that I've become able to accept myself as I really am….?

Now every year during my yearly visit to my great-grandfather's grave, I return to Okinawa to let my family see me.

If I think back on it, since I've gone to Tokyo, I always restrained myself wherever I went and continued to endure everything patiently. I convinced myself that I had to do this.

However, when I went to Okinawa, my grandmother told me, "You were called and you came home. Now once more, start again from here." When she said that, my heart became joyful again.

With that, I can finally fight. It felt like a huge burden had been lifted. Instead of suppressing myself altogether due to the surrounding circumstances, fighting back and making progress forward is much more suited to my character.

Back then at that time, I decided to be the leader to my band members, to fight, to keep running straight ahead with my vision of my solo career.