Editor’s note: This story is the first in a series appearing occasionally, intended to give readers a glimpse into unique clubs and organizations on campus.

They sit in line, gazing straight ahead with unblinking eyes.

Fingertips grazing their knees, the trio stays seated inside the fencing room of Archbold Gymnasium. With a quick nod, Daniel Yoon breaks the uniformity.

‘Charyut,’ says Yoon, a junior psychology major and president of the Syracuse University Kendo Club.

With the Korean word for ‘attention,’ he and club members Albert Tseung and Gary Luong begin. They secure glossy armors over thick indigo blue and white kendo jackets to protect their torsos. Luong, a sophomore exercise science major, pulls the tare tight around his waist like a belt. Its heavy flaps slap his legs, draped in long trousers with a slit down the middle.

‘It’s to protect your lower body, your family jewels,’ he says, eliciting laughter from his friends.

Within minutes, they transform into kendo swordsmen. With prompting from Yoon, the three rise. They clutch shinai, traditional swords made of four bamboo sticks and held together by leather strips.

The three normally practice with 11 other active members in the club, founded in 2007. They combine ‘kendo’ with ‘kumdo,’ the Korean equivalent of the Japanese modern martial art of sword fighting that teaches self-discipline. With 26 years of experience, SU alumna and local architect Kwangpyo Koh leads the practices from 5-7 p.m. on Fridays and Saturdays.

‘He taught us everything we know,’ Yoon says.

On Sundays from 11 a.m. to noon, graduate student and one of the club’s founding members Samuel Rivier teaches iaido. Closely linked to kendo, this martial art form involves one deliberate motion of drawing the sword, slicing the opponent and resealing the sword.

Affiliated with the Greater Northeastern U.S. Kendo Federation, the club competes in numerous tournaments. From Feb. 18-19, one member will compete at the Detroit Open Kendo Tournament while the others will prepare for their next big tournament at Harvard University in March. Observing and competing against skilled swordsmen from all over humbles the members.

‘The best part for me is when I see how many people do this,’ Yoon says. ‘I think, ‘Oh my god. I’m a really small fish in a really big ocean.’

The three stand in front of the expansive mirrors, their left feet drawn back and slightly lifted. They start their warm-up, which kicks off each practice. Yoon shouts out instructions in Korean as the trio goes over basic moves like a swift slashing stroke to the head. Beginners are required to master these before learning how to strike opponents.

When deemed ready, they’re taught kendo etiquette and manners. Courtesy and respect are defining features of the martial art, says Tseung, a sophomore civil engineering major.

‘We don’t say things to each other that are demeaning,’ Tseung says. ‘You thank each other, you help each other out.’

After tying on their men, face masks with curved shoulder protectors, Yoon and Luong move to the center of the room. They prepare for a bout, a one-on-one fight in which opponents score points by hitting target areas on the body, like the head and the waist. Keeping a clear distance from each other, the two bow. Lifting his shinai, Yoon advances toward Luong.

The room rings with the deafening clash of swords, clanging of armor and roars from the swordsmen. Bouts typically last two to three minutes, and after a few moments, the two step away from each other. Taking one more step backward, they put down their shinai and bow.

‘You OK?’ Yoon asks, lightly slapping Luong’s armor.

Luong takes a breath. ‘You OK?’ he retorts back. They laugh.

Then it’s Luong’s turn to serve a succession of strikes on the head, wrist and torso. If your opponent has trained for some time, you don’t feel the blows. The aim isn’t to slice through the armor — the striker descends the sword and snaps it back quick.

‘It feels like someone is pressing down on your head, so it doesn’t hurt,’ Yoon says.

Luong interjects: ‘But when a beginner hits us, it really hurts.’

In kendo, practitioners progress through three levels — physical mastery, mental mastery and spiritual alignment. With this belief of transcending the limitations of the body, all members in the club oppose each other no matter their height, weight or gender. This furthers the kendo mentality of striving for self-awareness and mutual respect.

‘You focus a lot on how you carry yourself, how you behave around other people and how you treat other people through this martial art,’ Yoon says. ‘It leaks into everything we do.’

As Tseung and Luong face off, carrying out an elaborate combination of continuous strikes, the clock ticks closer to 5 p.m. A student enters, halting at the sight of the two fighting. Yoon watches until more students flood in for a cycling class.

‘Guys,’ Yoon shouts, signaling it’s time to pack up and leave.

In the midst of students dragging cycling machines, the two stop and bow before calmly gliding over to Yoon. Shoulder to shoulder, the swordsmen descend onto their knees to shed their kendo gear. Sitting tall, they wait for Yoon’s cue. With his nod, they begin.

kkim40@syr.edu

Published on February 7, 2012 at 12:00 pm