Perseverance story: This is what happens when you master a skill set

A long time ago, in a small town, there lived a 10-year-old boy named Kenji. Kenji was full of energy and curiosity, just like any other child his age. But unlike most children, he had suffered a terrible accident when he was younger. A car crash had taken his left arm, leaving him with only his right. It was a painful experience, and for a long time, Kenji felt different from everyone else. He often wondered if he would ever be able to do the things other kids could. But Kenji had a dream, he wanted to learn judo. His parents were hesitant at first. Judo requires balance, strength, and the use of both arms. How could Kenji compete with other children who had both of theirs? But Kenji was determined. After much persuasion, his parents found a well-respected judo master, an elderly Japanese sensei known for his wisdom and skill. Kenji was nervous on his first day, but the old sensei welcomed him warmly. “Judo is not just about strength,” the sensei told him. “It is about technique, strategy, and using your opponent’s movements against them.” Excited, Kenji started training with great enthusiasm. But as the weeks passed, something puzzled him. While the other students were learning many different moves, his sensei had only taught him one move, an advanced throw.

At first, Kenji thought it was a mistake. Maybe his teacher didn’t trust him to learn more? Maybe the sensei thought he wasn’t capable? Three months went by, and still, Kenji practiced only that one move. Finally, he gathered the courage to ask his teacher, “Sensei, why have you only taught me one move? Shouldn’t I be learning more?” The old master smiled and replied, “This is the only move you know, but it is the only move you will ever need.” Kenji didn’t fully understand, but he had come to respect his sensei. If his teacher believed in him, then he would believe in himself. So he trained harder than ever. Months passed, and one day, the sensei told Kenji that he would be entering his first judo tournament. Kenji was both excited and nervous. He had never competed before, and he wondered how he would match up against other boys who had been training longer and learning many different techniques. When the tournament began, Kenji stepped onto the mat for his first match. His opponent was strong, but when the right moment came, Kenji used his one move and won. The same thing happened in the second match. He was now moving forward in the tournament.

By the third match, the opponents were getting tougher. Kenji’s next challenger was aggressive and more experienced. It was a difficult fight, and for a while, Kenji struggled. But then, his opponent made a mistake—he rushed in too quickly. Kenji seized the opportunity and executed his move perfectly. Another victory! Now, Kenji was in the finals. His last opponent was the strongest of them all, bigger, taller, and more skilled. As the match began, it was clear that Kenji was struggling. The larger boy used his size and strength to push Kenji back. The referee watched closely, concerned for Kenji’s safety. After a while, he called for a time-out. He turned to the sensei and said, “Perhaps we should stop the match. The boy has tried his best, but his opponent is too strong.” But the sensei shook his head and said firmly, “No. Let him continue.” The match resumed. Kenji was tired, but he refused to give up. He waited, focused, looking for a mistake. And then… it happened. His opponent let his guard down for just a second. At that moment, Kenji used all his strength and executed his move perfectly. The larger boy fell to the mat. The referee counted. Kenji had pinned his opponent. The match was over. Kenji had won. He was the tournament champion. On the way home, Kenji sat beside his sensei, still amazed. After a long silence, he finally asked, “Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?” The sensei smiled and placed a hand on Kenji’s shoulder. “You won for two reasons,” he said. “First, you have almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second, the only known defense for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm.” Kenji sat in stunned silence. He thought about everything he had been through, the accident, the self-doubt, the difficult training. He had always seen his missing arm as a weakness, something that made him less than others. But now he realized the truth. His biggest weakness had become his greatest strength.