What a Friend We Have in Jizōs 21

It was hard to take our eyes off the surfers, whirling in their own foam, Enoshima in the background. They moved in the classical Japanese aesthetic tempo of Jo-ha-kyu, slow start, acceleration, sudden ending. They surfed like they would swordfight, or experience tea ceremony. Slow...accelerate...stop.
“Wave men.” I said. “There were other kinds.”
“What other kinds?” Asked Robyn.
“Rōnin means ‘wave man.’” I said. “Destined to wander aimlessly forever, like waves in the sea, the word came to mean a samurai who was no longer in the service of a lord, because his master had died, banishment, or simply choosing to become one. Some worked to protect small villages, or for rich men who could otherwise do little to defend themselves. Others traveled to other countries or worked as pirates. Although the thousands of wave men who wandered the countryside as independent warriors were often seen as inferior by their fellow samurai, the most famous rōnin wrote the bible on swordsmanship, for the entire samurai culture.”
“Who was that?” Robyn asked.
“Perhaps the most scientific indisputably magnificent combatant in Japanese history.” I said.