#michioshimada

Michio Shimada steps onto the polished tatami floor with a measured grace that immediately commands respect. He does not exude the casual charm of a big-league pitcher tossing an easy curveball in warmups, nor the bustling energy of a basketball player rushing to the court. Instead, his quiet confidence aligns more with an old-world lineage of martial arts virtuosos—a heritage that stretches back decades to the rigorous training grounds of the Meiji Shrine Forest in Tokyo, and even further, through centuries of Japanese warrior tradition. It’s the kind of presence you sense before you even see him in action, a hum of potential energy that tells you there’s something special about this man and the discipline he carries.

Shimada’s story begins in the realm of Japanese combat sports that thousands of children experience every year. As a young boy, he studied Judo and Karate, taking his first steps on the long road toward martial mastery. Family members and friends remember him as a thoughtful child, yet fiercely determined whenever he set foot on the training mats. Even early on, there was an air of commitment around him. Whether practicing throws in Judo or perfecting forms in Karate, Shimada demonstrated the same hard-driving passion you might witness in a high school quarterback pushing through drills in the scorching summer heat.

Yet, it was not merely these common martial arts—widely known, celebrated, and rigorously taught—that would shape Shimada’s destiny. Fate intervened in the form of an introduction to the man now often revered as the “martial arts saint,” Kenichi Sawai. A legend in Japan, Sawai was famous not just for his mastery of various combat forms, but for his philosophy that sought harmony between mind, body, and spirit through the study of Taiki Ken. This lesser-known discipline synthesizes principles from Chinese Internal Martial Arts with the robust martial heritage of Japan. When Shimada came under Sawai’s tutelage, it was akin to a rookie baseball phenom being invited to train with a Hall of Famer—a chance to learn from the best in the business.

Shimada’s time under Sawai was marked by an unrelenting regimen of training sessions in the mystical Meiji Shrine Forest. Located in the heart of Tokyo yet boasting a peaceful, almost otherworldly aura, the forest has long been a favorite site for martial artists seeking intense training. Many an athlete has awakened at the crack of dawn, forging mental fortitude amid the cicadas’ calls and the hush of swaying trees. The forest’s winding trails and hidden clearings provided a demanding natural arena where students would run, perform stance work, and engage in partner drills. According to Shimada, the ancient Shinto spirit of the shrine seemed to permeate their practice, urging them to delve deeper into the essence of Taiki Ken—transforming each session into a spiritual as well as physical pursuit.

To meet Sawai’s exacting standards, students were required to push themselves to the brink of exhaustion. Gasshuku, or intensive training camps, would often last for days. Shimada recalls practicing footwork until his legs shook, and standing in meditative postures for hours, exploring the subtle pathways of energy that Taiki Ken seeks to harness. As if the bodily rigor wasn’t enough, Sawai also stressed intellectual understanding of the art’s principles. Study sessions on martial philosophy, strategy, and ethics turned novices into well-rounded practitioners who understood there was more to fighting than physical techniques.

In 1985, Sawai gave Shimada a monumental task: establish a dojo to spread Taiki Ken far and wide, making it accessible to people beyond the insular circles of martial arts elites. Shimada was only in his thirties at the time, yet he carried himself with a quiet authority that belied his relative youth. He founded the Taiki Ken Kikoukai dojo in Koganei, a suburban district in western Tokyo. At first, the space was modest—a single training hall with a humble sign and a small group of students who recognized that something extraordinary was brewing there. But beneath that humble exterior lay a dream of building a community dedicated to the legacy of Sawai and the transformative power of Taiki Ken.

Word got around quickly. Martial arts enthusiasts who had only heard of Taiki Ken in hushed anecdotes began making pilgrimages to Koganei, eager to experience this discipline that melded dynamic footwork with an almost meditative approach to combat. Shimada’s approach was straightforward yet profound: he taught striking and grappling techniques while emphasizing the cultivation of internal power, stability, and insight. Students were encouraged to attend early morning sessions in nearby parks, mimicking the grueling forest training that Shimada had known so well. Over time, the dojo’s reputation blossomed, leading to an influx of serious practitioners from all walks of life—office workers, high school athletes, even a handful of foreign visitors who saw Taiki Ken as a gateway to deeper martial and personal mastery.

Yet, the journey was not without heartache. When Kenichi Sawai passed away, the shock reverberated throughout Japan’s martial arts community. For Shimada, it felt as though the guiding light of his life had been dimmed. Unsure of how to proceed, he temporarily closed the Koganei dojo. The next few months were filled with reflection and mourning, a time he used to reassess his priorities and pay homage to the man who had led him down this path. But as the haze of grief lifted, Shimada realized that the greatest tribute he could offer Sawai was not retreat, but renewed dedication.

And so, the doors of Taiki Ken Kikoukai reopened. Before long, the training hall echoed once more with the sound of feet shuffling across tatami and the unmistakable kiai shouts of students testing their mettle. New students arrived, drawn by Shimada’s story and the resilience he had displayed in the face of adversity. Once again, the dojo pulsed with life, preserving Sawai’s teachings for a new generation. Over the years, graduates of the dojo would go on to become accomplished martial artists in their own right, some even opening Taiki Ken study groups around the world, continuing the legacy born in that quiet corner of Tokyo.

Then came January 2005, a milestone moment that would serve as both tribute and expansion. To mark the 20th anniversary of the Koganei dojo’s founding, Shimada opened a brand-new training hall in Shinjuku, one of Tokyo’s most vibrant and bustling districts. If Koganei offered a suburban calm, Shinjuku was its antithesis—a neon-lit wonderland that never truly sleeps. By planting Taiki Ken in the heart of such urban energy, Shimada demonstrated a willingness to adapt to the evolving landscape of modern martial arts. The Shinjuku dojo became a beacon, attracting seasoned fighters, curious newcomers, and even tourists intrigued by the chance to immerse themselves in an authentic Japanese discipline.

The Shinjuku dojo also represented a tangible commitment to mentoring future generations. Alumni from Koganei who had grown into adept instructors joined Shimada in designing curricula that would not merely replicate Sawai’s training methods but refine them for a modern audience. Japanese high school students practiced side by side with international visitors, forging a cultural exchange that transcended language. Overseeing it all was Shimada, still the ever-dedicated sensei, offering pointers with that trademark soft-spoken gravitas. He taught, he demonstrated, and he inspired—ensuring that, though Sawai was no longer present physically, his spirit thrived in the pounding hearts and swirling fists of every student under the dojo’s roof.

Today, the presence of Michio Shimada looms large within Japan’s martial arts community, and indeed, internationally. From the earliest days of diligently studying Judo and Karate, to the punishing forest training under Kenichi Sawai, to building not just one but two dojos dedicated to Taiki Ken, his life story reads like the biography of an iconic athlete who overcame every obstacle to reach the pinnacle of his craft. Yet, Shimada would be the first to insist that there is always more to learn. Whenever you think you’ve mastered a technique or a concept, he advises, go back to the basics. Stand still in nature, feel the ground beneath you, and rediscover that synergy between mind, body, and spirit. Only then can you truly call yourself a martial artist.

In the kaleidoscope of modern sports—where highlight reels and viral clips dominate our collective imagination—Shimada’s pursuit might appear understated. But the lessons he imparts resonate far beyond a single dojo floor. They speak of dedication, humility, and the conviction that genuine power emerges from discipline rooted in respect for tradition. His journey from a curious child in a Judo gi to the sensei of multiple dojos carrying on Sawai’s legacy is one that belongs in the pantheon of the sports world’s finest sagas, an odyssey of grit, heart, and unwavering fidelity to a higher calling.