The Last Samurai

The Satsuma Rebellion of 1877 was a final stand by the samurai class against the sweeping reforms of the Meiji government. The Meiji Restoration had ushered in modernization, military conscription, and the abolition of the samurai, dismantling the very social order that had defined Japan for centuries. Many samurai saw these reforms as a betrayal—of their status, their traditions, and their very way of life.

Yet, despite their resistance, Japan as a whole was focused on a singular goal: preventing colonization by foreign powers. The country’s rapid modernization was not just about progress—it was about survival.

The film The Last Samurai captures this tension through the fictional Nathan Algren (Tom Cruise), a tortured military officer drawn into Japan’s internal struggle. In one pivotal scene, he clashes with Omura, a self-serving official whose commercial interests were tied to Japan’s new capitalist economy. Omura sought to marginalize the samurai, ensuring they had no place in this modernizing world. Algren, repulsed by Omura’s disregard for the human cost of progress, would later find himself identifying with the samurai.

The historical reality was even more brutal. The samurai’s final stand culminated in The Battle of Shiroyama, where Saigō Takamori, once a leader of the Meiji Restoration himself, chose to die for principle rather than accept the new order. Outgunned and vastly outnumbered, his forces fought until their last breath. Saigō, wounded, committed seppuku on the battlefield, his death marking the end of an era.

“Yet, the Samurai had been swept aside by the very nation they wished to protect.”

—Colin Wee, Excerpt from “The Lost Scrolls of Ryūkyū” (Unpublished Manuscript, 2025)

Many misinterpret The Last Samurai—it was not about a foreigner becoming Japan’s last warrior but about a man who chose to stand alongside the last of the samurai, honoring their code, their discipline, and their sacrifice.

By the time the Meiji era ended in 1912, Japan had fully transitioned into a modern imperial power. The samurai were gone. The country was now a rising force in the global arena. But for its annexed territories, such as Okinawa, modernization brought no relief. Okinawans remained dispossessed, their hopes for autonomy growing ever dimmer.

Historical fiction novel The Lost Scrolls of Ryūkyū follows a small group of Okinawans in this era, advocating for the establishment of a new system of Karate—one that could survive the political upheaval around them and improve their cultural security. As Japan entered the Great War, and as militarism took hold of the nation, these men were forced to ask themselves:

Were they building a legacy that would protect people—or a tool that would serve the empire?

Ankō Itosu’s proposal to the Ministry of War included the following in his second precept:

“If children were to begin training naturally in military prowess while in elementary school, then they would be well suited for military service.”

While the visuals of Itosu’s proposal didn’t look all that great in regards to the training of Japanese soldiers, the question was about who it would eventually serve and what it would become.

The Japanese people, too, were being swept into an era they were not fully prepared for. Modernization had cost them their samurai, their stability, and their traditions. And despite Okinawa’s own suffering, its masters saw that their knowledge could help anyone struggling to find their place in a changing world.


The above is a behind-the-scenes look at Colin’s latest historical fiction novel titled “The Lost Scrolls of Ryūkyū.” While you stay tuned for further updates, perhaps you’d care to explore the Occupied Okinawa: A Documentary Film by Robert Kajiwara from Peace for Okinawa Coalition.

慈恩 Jion Temple Sound Kata

There’s something satisfying about peeling back the layers of a kata—tracing its roots, understanding why it evolved the way it did, and ultimately, figuring out what it’s trying to teach us. But it’s even better when you see how it all fits into the bigger picture.

Jion is one such kata. It’s a name that immediately conjures a certain kind of reverence—a sense of dignity, calmness, and restraint. But why? Where does it fit into our history?

If we go back to the years following the Ryūkyū Disposition, we find ourselves in a period of transformation. The old ways weren’t just under scrutiny—they were at risk of being lost altogether. The martial arts we had once trained in secret were now stepping into the public eye, and Itosu was the one leading the charge.

By the time Karate entered the Okinawan school system in 1901, Ankō had already been working on something new. Something scalable. Something that could be taught en masse without losing the essence of our training. It was during this time that the Pinan series was born, a structured set of forms designed to introduce students to the fundamentals in a way that could be replicated and standardized.

Jion was developed around this same time. Not a battlefield kata like some of the older ones, but one that embodied a shift in thinking—a kata designed not just for combat but for teaching control, poise, and an understanding of when not to fight.

Ankō himself had once explained it best:
“Jion doesn’t feel like a battlefield kata because it’s not meant to be. Not every fight starts with fists swinging. Some of the more dangerous conflicts I’ve been in were fought with words and gestures. Jion wasn’t about going for the win at all costs. It was about positioning, and choosing when—not if—you need to fight.”

This kata wasn’t simply a holdover from a bygone era—it was a message in a bottle, sealed with every lesson Ankō had fought to preserve.

The Shift from Tōde to Karate

This change didn’t sit well with everyone. Those who had trained in the old way, the way of Tōde, saw the modifications and scoffed. They thought the new curriculum was a dilution, a softening of what had once been fierce and raw.

This wasn’t about changing for the sake of change. It was about survival—not just of techniques, but of the culture itself. Karate couldn’t remain locked behind closed doors, taught in secret to a select few. It had to adapt, to become something that could outlast us.

Ankō understood this. When he asked Asato to document the names, addresses, and abilities of Okinawa’s martial artists, it wasn’t just about preserving the past—it was about securing the future. A future where the martial arts weren’t just practiced, but passed on.

That’s why Jion matters. Not just as a kata, but as a philosophy.

Jion, the Spirit of Karate, and JDK USA in Schenectady NY

JDK’s Schenectady seminar 2024 was nothing short of electric—a fusion of sweat, skill, and strategy that brought the JDK Method to life. To everyone who participated, thank you. Your commitment, curiosity, and intensity turned this event into something truly special.

This seminar highlight both Bassai Dai and Jion, but wasn’t just about techniques—it was about training for the inevitable. It was about refining not just how we move, but why we move the way we do. For more information see joongdokwan.com.

Here are some key takeaways from the weekend:

🔹 Beyond Technique: Anticipating the Opposition
JDK isn’t about collecting fancy techniques—it’s about preparing for the fight that’s coming. We train for opposition, contingencies, and workarounds. A technique is only useful if it accounts for resistance.

🔹 Unveiling the Hidden Layers of Tradition
Kata isn’t just choreography—it’s a tactical playbook. We dissected, tested, and pressure-checked movements to ensure they hold up under realistic conditions. This isn’t about abandoning tradition; it’s about making it functionally relevant in the modern world.

🔹 Shield or Springboard? Using the Enemy as a Tool
Sometimes, the attacker hands you an advantage—you just have to know how to take it. We explored how to redirect momentum, using an opponent’s own force as either a shield or a springboard to control the fight, create space, or set up a decisive counter.

🔹 Ground Force: Kinetic Chaining for Devastating Power
Striking isn’t about isolated limbs—it’s about harnessing the whole body. We trained to generate force from the ground up, connecting movements efficiently to maximize power. Imagine striking not just with your hand, but with the weight of the entire planet behind you.

This seminar wasn’t just about refining skills—it was about rethinking the way we approach martial arts. To everyone who attended, you now carry these lessons forward. Train hard, stay sharp, and keep pushing the boundaries of what you know.

See you at the next one!


The above is a behind-the-scenes look at Colin’s latest historical fiction novel titled “The Lost Scrolls of Ryūkyū.” Stay tuned for further updates. While you wait, perhaps check out the article “In Okinawa, an independence movement finds an unlikely ally.

Ryūkyū Awamori

Early Undiscovered Likenesses of Matsumura Sokon and Itosu Yasutsune
Lithograph of a photo taken by Commodore Matthew Perry of Ryukyuan Regent Sho Taimu, possibly flanked by Matsumura Sokon (left) and Itosu Ankō (right)

Shinzato Shuzo, established in 1846, is the oldest existing awamori distillery in Okinawa, and it’s known for its traditional techniques and the quality of its products, which includes the Ryukyu Classic and Shinzato 7 awamori.

At the time of its inception, Matsumura Sōkon aka Bushi Matsumura would have served the Shō government for just over a decade, and a young Ankō Itosu would have only begun training under Matsumura. It would take another four year until he became Secretary of Ryūkyū Kingdom.

Shinzato Shuzo indicated that when Commodore Matthew Perry and his black ships stopped in Ryūkyū in 1853, there were only three distilleries on the island sanctioned by the government.

Perry “landed two cannons and two companies of U.S. Marines … Along with 50 naval officers and two brass bands” at Naha port before he literally invaded Shuri Castle (Clayton, Shotokan’s Secret p77).

This means the awamori Perry may have enjoyed could very well have been from their distillery. If so, the lithograph on the left, taken by the Commodore, may show some of their awamori being served in the drinking cup in the lower left hand corner of the frame. For more information see The story of Commodore Matthew C. Perry’s trip to Shuri Castle in 1853.

Shinzato Shuzo is characterized by a deep richness and smell of awamori on the nose. On the palate, it is fruity and has refreshing drinkability. With aging, sweetness and umami are enhanced, resulting in a smooth and profound flavor.

Ryukyu Awamori Bottle from Shinzato Shuzo
Ryūkyū Awamori Shinzato Classic

For those interested in trying what the Ryukyu Royals, Matsumura Sokon, Itosu Ankō and Asato Ankō were drinking at the time, click on the image to the right. For those of you who are interested to find out more of this culture see The essence of awamori.

Shinzato Shuzo reel on their Awamori, Commodore Matthew Perry, and their manufacturing process: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DGp3XmjzuQw/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==


The above is behind-the-scenes research used for Colin’s latest historical fiction novel titled “The Lost Scrolls of Ryūkyū.” Stay tuned for further updates. While you wait, check out article “At the United Nations, Indigenous Ryukyuans say it’s time for U.S. military to leave Okinawa

Itosu deals with Drunk and Disorderly Patron

“Indeed, Itosu was so well trained that his entire body seemed to be invulnerable. Once, as he was about to enter a restaurant in Naha’s amusement center, a sturdy young man attacked him from the rear, aiming a hearty blow at his side. But the latter, without even turning, hardened the muscle of his stomach so that the blow glanced off his the right wrist of his assailant. Still without turning his head, he calmly dragged the man inside the restaurant.

Funakoshi Gichin
(Funakoshi, Karate-do: my way of life: Funakoshi Gichin, 1975, p15)

Picture of Anko as an old man
Anko Itosu in a group photo

Az said he had heard of this incident but wasn’t there that evening.

You’d be surprised how some strong, headstrong fellows behave. They feel the need to test themselves against someone well-known—sometimes as a drunken rite of passage, sometimes out of sheer arrogance. And let’s not forget the occasional grudge-holder who thought it was his duty to sneer at Shurite “parlor karate” or the new “empty hand shamisen” hacks.

Every time he heard that shamisen comparison he felt like hitting them with a real shamisen.

Anyway, this musclehead wasn’t looking for a fair fight, nor did he have the guts to come at Ankō from the front. He rushed in blindly, hoping to prove a point or end things quickly.

As for Ankō’s response? Exactly what we’d expect. We were always aware of our surroundings, even when relaxed. If the young man was making a scene, had poor footwork, or pulled back his arm before the strike, that would’ve been all the warning Ankō needed. He would brace his body, demonstrate the phenomenal conditioning he had acquired, and have the blow glance off without so much as a flinch.

Most men would have turned and retaliated. Ankō? He knew how to manage the optics. He calmly took control using soft power, dragged the attacker inside, and sat him down to sober him up. That’s the kind of man he was—no ego, and without the need for posturing. He knew he had nothing to prove. And by treating the fool with a little kindness, he landed the hardest hit of all.


The above is a behind-the-scenes look at Colin’s latest historical fiction novel titled “The Lost Scrolls of Ryūkyū.” Stay tuned for further updates. If however, you’re here for ideas on what to do if you’re faced with a drunk and disorderly person, please see WA Mental Health Commission: Managing an intoxicated person.