Kendo Testing Criteria

Previously, I had posted about the kendo 8th dan exam, which is perhaps the most difficult rank examination in the world. Below is an excerpt from a post that appeared at the Kenshi Journal, regarding the testing criteria for the dan ranks. There is certainly more to kendo than bopping someone on the head! 

The full post may be read here.

In the Yoshinkan Aikido organization within which I previously trained, the last physical test was for 6th dan. On successfully attaining 6th dan the aikidoka was regarded as a shihan, or "master teacher" and was fully authorized to teach all of the approximately 3000 named techniques.

A close examination of the official Standard Guideline for Dan/Kyu Examination reveals that rank progression in Kendo and Iaido is far more than a simple test of physical speed or athletic agility. The grading criteria outline an intentional, decades-long evolution, moving from foundational mechanical execution to strategic match control, theoretical rationale, personal dignity, and ultimately complete mind-body integration. I will first start with Iaido and then move on to Kendo.

The Iaido Promotion Criteria is:

Shodan to 3rd Dan: (1) Correct appearance and etiquette. (2) Precise Nukitsuke and Kiritsuke. (3) Precise Chiburi and [blade]angle. (4) Precise Noto 

4th Dan and 5th Dan, same criteria as Shodan to 3rd Dan with addition of the following criteria: (1) Mental composure (2) Metsuke (gaze) (3) Kihaku (vigour) (4) The unison of Ki(spirit), Ken(sword), and Tai(Body).

6-Dan, 7-Dan, and 8-Dan: The Jitsugi examination for 6th Dan to 8th Dan will take into consideration all the assessment points relevant to Shodan through to 5th Dan with the addition of the following two elements and an expected higher overall level of technical proficiency.  (1) Riai (Understanding of the rationale behind the techniques) & (2) Fukaku, Hinkaku (Grace and dignity, therefore, demonstrating one’s own style which is dignified and elegant.) 

Most promotion examinations (Shinsa) are conducted via ZNKR Iaido to evaluate a practitioner’s technical precision, spiritual focus, and adherence to etiquette across the standardized Seitei Iai kata. Examiners judge candidates using standardized checkpoints that accumulate in expectation as a student advances.

From the brief test criteria explained above it can be understood that the evaluation spans three primary categories:

1. Etiquette & Manners (Sahō / Reihō). Candidates are evaluated from the moment they enter the court to ensure respect, safety, and proper handling of the sword:

• Entry & Posture: Entering with correct footwork, uniform adjustment, and holding the sword at a 45-degree angle with the thumb securing the guard (tsuba).
  
• Bowing Protocols: Demonstrating respectful bows to the altar/shomen (~30 degrees) and to the sword with proper hand placement and posture.
  
• Wearing the Sword: Smoothly inserting the scabbard into the belt (obi) and tying the sageo cord without awkward readjustments.

2. Technical Execution (Jutsu-gi). Examiners look for exact alignment and fluidity across the twelve kata.

• Nukitsuke (Draw & Strike): Ample scabbard pull-back (saya biki), drawing from the body’s center (hara / tanden), and precise blade orientation before release (saya banare).
  
• Furikaburi (Overhead Swing): Bringing the sword overhead in a backward thrusting motion past the left ear while keeping the tip (kissaki) at or above horizontal.
  
• Kirioroshi (Downward Cut): Executing a continuous, decisive cut without hesitation, stopping the left fist in front of the navel with the kissaki slightly lowered.
  
• Chiburi & Nōtō: Correct form during chiburi and smooth, attentive resheathing (nōtō) without breaking focus or looking down.
  

3. Spiritual & Physical Principles

• Ki-Ken-Tai no Ichi (Unity of Spirit, Sword, and Body): Full martial spirit (kihaku), correct posture, and striking simultaneously with correct footwork.
  
• Zanshin (Sustained Awareness): Maintaining physical posture, alertness, and mental readiness after executing cuts.
  
• Metsuke (Gaze): Directing eye focus (Metsuke) outward toward opponents rather than staring down at the sword.
  

The primary distinction between beginner and intermediate levels lies in the transition from basic mechanical execution to complete technical precision and classical school integration:

• Beginner Standards (3rd Dan & Below):
  • Technical Accommodations: Examiners allow minor accommodations for beginners (e.g., slight footwork adjustments or pausing in uke nagaeshi positions). Beginners are permitted specific physical leniencies while building core stability (hara) and basic mechanics. For example, beginners are allowed to draw the sword directly toward the cutting target rather than drawing toward the center of the face first, pause briefly in intermediate positions like uke nagashi in Sanbon-me or waki gamae in Jippon-me, rotate the scabbard downward before drawing in Gohon-me, or adjust the scabbard tip (kojiri) when placing the sword during zarei.
    
  • Evaluation Focus: Grading at these early levels focuses on foundational etiquette (reiho), learning proper trajectory, avoiding shoulder tension, and establishing core balance.
    
• Intermediate Standards (4th & 5th Dan):
  • Strict Standardized Execution: Candidates must demonstrate seamless technical proficiency alongside classical school (koryū) training. Intermediate candidates must eliminate all beginner accommodations and execute every Seitei Iai kata with uncompromising technical correctness.
    
  • Mandatory Koryū Integration: The sources explicitly state that for 4th and 5th Dan practitioners and above, Koryū (classical school) training becomes indispensable. ZNKR Iai and koryū are designated as “the two wheels of one cart” (kuruma no ryōrin), intermediate practitioners cannot rely on standardized federation forms alone and must actively study ancient lineages to master the art’s deeper technical and spiritual foundation.

While the sources do not detail administrative pass rates for 6th–7th Dan examination panels, they define the overarching technical and spiritual metrics required for advance higher-level promotion as:

• Shin-Ki-Ryoku Ichi (Unity of Mind, Spirit, and Power): High-rank candidates are judged on achieving full unity between mental focus, martial spirit (kihaku), and physical power generated from the principles of the sword rather than muscular force.
  
• Shinken Shōbu Mindset: Demonstrations must convey the gravity of an actual duel with a real sword (shinken), demonstrating unwavering presence, sharpness (sae), and seamless, sustained awareness (zanshin) throughout.
  
• Concealed Internal Control (Kokyū): Advanced practitioners must demonstrate refined breath control (kokyū). The waza should ideally be completed in a single breath, or controlled so that breathing is completely imperceptible to an opponent.
• Refined Posture & Awareness: High-level performance requires complete mastery of enzan no metsuke (a broad gaze like looking at a distant mountain), precise blade-handling, and fluid movement that reflects decades of koryū refinement.
  

The official requirements to be eligible for the 8-Dan examination are:

• Age Minimum: The candidate must be at least 46 years old.
• Practice Period: The candidate must undergo a mandatory practice period of 10 years or more after earning 7-Dan before applying.

8-Dan: “Someone who reached the innermost secrets of Iaido and has attained total mastery of technique

Iaido and Biomechanics

I recently read the book, Biomechanics of Iaido: From Support to Blade by Veronika Rumynina.

Ms Rumynina is dan ranked in to different styles of iaido and actively teaches the art. Having quite an analytic mind, she questioned the basic widespread teaching methodology: the sensei saying "watch me nd copy what I do."

It would be helpful when going into this book to be familiar with both iaido and anatomy terminology, but if you don't have that background, solid explanations are provided in the appendices.

What the author does in this book, is to examine the movements and actions of the muscles and tendons, the fascia and one's breathing throughout the action of an iaido kata. 

She begins with a chapter on the feet and ankles, the moves to to the knee, the pelvis, the torso, shoulders arms, wrists and hands. This is a very thorough, step by step examination of movement.

Just how do the bones align, which muscles contract or relax and when, how does the fascia move? Again and again, these questions are answered as we move from the floor to the end of the blade. 

While this book is explicitly written to help one's iaido practice, I am convinced that the lesson can indeed be applied to the practice of any martial art. I find myself thinking about what I learned from this book as I go about my own practice of taijiquan.

She goes on to describe how this information can be integrated into one's personal practice and then in a classroom environment.

This is a well done examination of how to move in the context of iaido. I  enjoyed this book and I am sure that you will as well.

Biomechanics of Iaido: From Support to Blade is available on Amazon.

 

 

Japanese Sword Documentary

Below is an excerpt from a post at The Budo Journeyman, which is a review of a 2024 documentary about Japanese swords and the West, entitled The Sun's Shadow. The full post may be read here.

This is certainly not like the usual documentaries about culture and heritage based in Japan, e.g. the ones that National Geographic produce. Neither is it a bite-sized piece in a travelogue episode by a celebrity who happens to be visiting Japan. This is what makes it so intriguing.

With ‘The Sun’s Shadow’, over three episodes, we are introduced to a range of enthusiasts who have pitched their all into their particular shared obsession – the Japanese sword.

What is surprising is that contemporary Japanese sword makers barely feature, these are all Americans. I know that Europeans will raise a quizzical eyebrow at anything the Americans throw themselves into with their body and soul…. I certainly did; but even half way through episode one, I was totally convinced they’d got it right.

Admittedly, this series ticked many of my boxes; not only traditional Japanese martial arts, but Japanese culture, history and the world of crafted bespoke artefacts. I found myself salivating at the lingering shots of antique and contemporary Nihonto, beautiful understated sword furniture and wrappings, yes, sword porn.

But the characters… including grizzled elderly craftsmen, working away in backwoods forges, enthusing about types of steel, temperatures, carbon content and quenching, totally captivating. They were pushing beyond the boundaries that historical Japanese swordsmiths were struggling to reach, even seeming to recreate techniques the Japanese thought had died out centuries ago.

However, this was not approached with Western arrogance, but more with reverence and full respect for what these earlier smiths had achieved.

Two other aspects came over strongly:

Cultural understanding.

The American swordsmiths were not just focussed on the sweat and grind of the forge; they were all clear in their own heads that Japanese culture has a depth that must be really worked at for Westerners to get a grasp of what the real background is.

Swords as practical objects.

Although we are no longer in the age where people swing swords at each other, either one-to-one or in massed armed conflict, a sword loses its identity and status if it is just considered as a decorative artefact, or a historical curiosity. (or even an investment antique). By including in the documentary those individuals who, for various reasons, feel they are custodians of an uninterrupted tradition that includes the art of swordsmanship, this adds real value to the enterprise. It tightly ties the craftsmen of the forge to the craftsmen of the Dojo, in a line that stretches back into history.

 

 

 

 

The Bokuto

Over at Ichijoji, the author recently had an interesting post about a bukuto (bokken) that he recently bought. 

These training swords come in all sorts of wood, shapes and sizes.

My own favorite is one that I bought for attending Kushia Sensei's kenjutsu class, where he taught his family style of swordsmanship. This specimen is made of white oak and is larger, more dense and heavier than the generic red oak ones you typicall come across. It is a weapon in it's own right.

The full post may be read here. An excerpt is below.

...

It’s probably a bit older than the others – 30 or 40 years old, I should think, judging from the colour and feel. What attracted me was the balance – it’s reasonably heavy and feels good in either one or both hands.

It is an unusual length, too, somewhere between the normal shoto (short) and long bokuto. That makes it useful both for practice and, if the need ever arose, as a weapon. Bokuto, Miyamoto Musashi notwithstanding, are not designed as weapons. They would do in a pinch, but the normal practice type are a touch too light, and are not as versatile as something like a jo, the short staff used by the riot police here.

That is not to say they are not capable of serious damage – getting whacked around the head by a piece of oak is not going to be good for anyone’s health, but their length makes them susceptible to grabbing and less effective in close quarters. 

The other interesting feature of this bokuto is that it has a squared-off tip. This is slightly unusual these days – most bokuto have kisaki (tip) resembling that of a real blade. I don’t mind this, but I certainly wouldn’t choose this design for my main practice bokuto. 

As there are more than 100 different designs of bokuto, (https://www.seidoshop.com/blogs/the-seido-blog/01-the-different-types-of-bokken-a-visit-at-the-horinouchi-workshop), it would not be surprising if among them, there was something like this. On the other hand, the tip looks quite banged about, and it is possible it got damaged somehow and was cut off.  It also looks as if it might have been cut down purposely to its current length – this is certainly not a standard length, and the tsuka (the end of the hilt) has been cut off square, without the edges being rounded at all (unlike the kissaki). 

Careful examination shows evidence of use – a few marks on the mine (spine), and some marks on the side – some of these have clearly been done with a sharp blade, more likely a practice sword than a real one.

Some koryu styles have bokuto specific to their style, (and there are differences within styles, too) but many make do with what is available. Kendo and aikido tend towards the standard types for kata work and heavier types for developing strength and body connection, but I’m sure there are variations there as well. I have tried some rather poorly balanced bokuto in the past – no doubt mass produced, probably for kendo(?), (although you get poor quality ones sold as souvenirs) and I would not be very happy if I had to use them on a regular basis. 

I have seen comments online about issues connected with weight – I never had any specific instruction on this from my teacher, but on the subject of swords, he once explained that it was good for lighter, less strong practitioners to start with heavier swords to develop the structure to be able to handle them well, and for stronger practitioners to use lighter blades, so they could develop their sensitivity for the weapon. This was under supervision, of course, and with the unspoken corollary that they would eventually progress to a sword that suited them better, if necessary. (Having used several quite heavy swords of varying balance, I can say I have benefitted, but they were not always comfortable to use).

 

 

 

 

The Last Part of the Kata

At Shugyo, a blog about iaido and jodo training, the author made a post specifically about the last part of each iaido kata, the noto. It's worth reading and considering for every form that we practice.

An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

The arse end of the kata

I was once told during a written examination of iaido in Japan, that the four "columns" of iaido consisted usually of nukitsu, kiritsuke, chiburi and noto. Every kata, more or less, contained all of these elements. Each possesses an essential quality of its own:

• Nukitsuke would be expressed by a range of strategies including taking the enemy by surprise, seizing the moment, controlling or suppressing their attack etc.
• Kiritsuke* would be expressed as a decisive termination of the enemy's life once the exponent had decided that this was the only solution.
• Chuburi would be an expression of zanshin once the distinct fighting part of the kata is over to release the body and unseize the mind.
• Noto additionally would be an expression of zanshin, almost the complete reverse of nukitsuke, but being uber aware during this dangerous moment of the sword being resheathed thus being a moment at which the exponent was most vulnerable to an additional attack. 

*For those kata that are concluded with a thrust, this element would be called Tsukizuke which is both difficult to pronounce without spitting and is a homophone of "moon pickles". 

Despite each of these elements being self-evidently vital, I sometimes (often) notice the tendency for noto to be given a slightly lower position on the priority ladder. It seems that once all the sword waving and posing for the camera had been completed, noto was a fiddly detail that one had to get through in order to progress to the next kata.

Given the number of minor injuries that I and others had suffered while doing noto, this feels like a wasted moment if not given the same priorities as the other elements in the kata. I mean, just because the letter "Z" is at the arse end of the alphabet, it doesn't make it less important - ask any Polish person! 

To illustrate this vital point, here is a list of the names of some my closest Polish friends with the Z's in their names caps'd and in bold.

•  LukasZ Machura
• Michał SZcZepański
• Paweł BrZeZiński
• AgniesZka KrawcZyk
• Marcin Zyga
•  Ziemowit ZenZiZenZiZenZic (shortened to "Domański")

Most of them have more Z's in their name than vowels! Some has more Z' than letters!

Back to the story... 

During 2024 and 2025 I spent some considerable time in Japan training at Shinbukan while students of our dojo prepared to take 6th and 7th dan exams in iaido and jodo. It just so happened during one of these visits, while coaching a 6th dan iaido candidate who had just been landed with her brand new shinken, that Ishido Sensei explained in detail the method of doing horizontal noto i.e. that used in Muso Shinden Ryu and other ryuha.

While I had picked up snippets of this methodology over the years, this was the first time to have it explained in such comprehensive and complete detail. Additionally, Ishido Sensei over the last year during my visits was very focused on the correctness and general performance of noto.

He showed me a scratchy old black-and-white video of some very old iaido masters (who were also scratchy and black-and-white) doing demonstrations and at one point, emphasised how, despite age affecting their speed and power in nukitsuke, kiritsuke and chiburi, their noto still contained the essential aspects of speed, fluidity, control and zanshin vital for a well performed noto. He told me that while most people could learn speed and power within a few years, true quality from decades of practice becomes visible in the way noto is performed.

And so he instructed very clearly and in detail, the exact movements of preparing for noto which I will try to present now. Please bear in mind that this is Ishido Sensei's version of Muso Shinden Ryu noto; other styles may have other methods, even other lines of MSR might vary.

I will first explain my understanding of his noto method up to that point and then explain why it doesn't work so well. Previously I had gripped the koiguchi in a natural way and then rotated the saya (that is the angle of the koiguchi to about 45°. Then as the sword approached the left hand I would rotate the saya to the full 90° to align the hasuji of the saya with that of the sword. I wasn't sure why it should be rotate to a 45° waiting position first, I just did it as I had been taught this way by Ishido Sensei.

 

 

 

Learning in Martial Arts

At the Shugyo blog, there is a good article about how we learn in martial arts training. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

It can sometimes be very rewarding to teach beginners as they have few expectations and biases and are a mostly empty cup to fill.

Putting your brain into the student mindset

Those of you who have been living in my eyebrows for the last few years will know that my budo interests have been steered towards improving budo coaching through some shallow dives into sports coaching theory. These dives have taken me past the colourful coral gardens of ZPD, scaffolding, the GROW model and other interesting underwater features. These have been very much focussed on the role and workload of the coach/teacher/dojo leader and has treated the receiving side as a pretty much homogenous mass of pink jelly that responds to the occasional blast of sound vibrations or poking with a sharp stick.

This year I have so far spent just over 9 weeks in Japan doing a lot of training in Ishido Sensei's dojo, and a little in other dojos. Something that occurred to me in my latest journeys was a noticeable difference in the responses of students with regard to feedback from various teachers. This hasn't been isolated to Japan; once it came to my interest in Japan I started noticing it in the UK and Europe as well.

Before I jumped into writing this, I did some light academic research looking at various articles on the subject of corrective feedback in coaching. I have extracted a few lines from the articles that I found relevant and interesting to just set the scene. These are not only useful for the student but also a superb set of pointers for coaches as well:

The Organization of Corrective Demonstrations Using Embodied Action in Sports Coaching Feedback

"However, unlike classrooms and medical internship discussions, sports coaching is a bodily affair; there is no “talking through a subject” to get the job of these settings done. Errors then are not a matter of what one knows but what one does. Error correction is a matter of showing the athlete(s) what they did wrong and showing them how to do it right. Talk is an instructive guide on where to find the action, but re-enactment is the central part of this setting’s instructional work."

Five Principles of Reinforcement

"Coaches should strive to use only reinforcement – mostly the positive kind – to shape player behaviours."

"Nonetheless, if you say “well done” when the athlete has not performed the skill very well, it’s false praise, and the odds are that the athlete will know it’s false praise. It’s tough being honest sometimes, but if you have built a supportive but challenging climate and you support your players striving to improve, then you’re in a good position to give honest feedback." 

...

[⚠️ Suspicious Content] I noticed in particular in Japan that the older students tended to skip the disappointment and acceptance stage. They might spend a bit more time improving their comprehension by asking for more detail and confirmation. 

In both Japan and Europe though, the younger and often more talented students seemed to need to go through a disappointment stage and a protracted emotional acceptance stage, sometimes asking for evidence or proof to back up the feedback.

I should add that I have always encouraged the people who have asked to learn from me to be sceptical (I'll come back to this sceptical mindset subject a bit later) of everything including anything that I have taught. This disappointment stage though isn't what I mean; it's an emotional reaction based on a range of the following mindsets in the student:

    "I thought I was doing it right and you're telling me that I was wrong."
    "I have devoted so much time to doing it this way and now you're saying that I wasted my time."
    "You could have told me this sooner."
    "You're being inconsistent in your teaching of the subject."

In one example of this, while I was in Ishido Sensei's dojo recently, there were quite a few other visitors there from Europe and China. One visitor, who will remain anonymous but is a very skilful and dedicated iaidoka from Europe, was training a notoriously difficult seated okuden kata. They were doing it with a lot of speed and fluidity as is appropriate for okuden. After a short while, Ishido Sensei came up to them and explained that they had misunderstood the kihon (basic version) and showed them what they should be doing. The visitor worked on this for a while but was having difficulty achieving "satisfaction". Of significance though was the surprise, or even shock, on the face of the student that what they had been training turned out to be incorrect. When they took a break during training I heard them express disappointment in themselves and were clearly confused. 

And I get it! This person had been instructed a certain way a few months previously (I think by Ishido Sensei) and they were now being told this was wrong. Had the koryu changed? Had they misunderstood the original instruction? 

Trying to resolve the question, had the koryu changed, takes us down a different road that I don't want to explore at the moment in any detail; suffice to say that any instruction will change in time; the teacher's perspective and level changes, the student changes - change is inevitable and we should be always mentally and physically prepared to accept that change. As is the motto of iaido, tsune ni itte, kyu ni awasu (be in the moment, adapt to the situation quickly).

This isn't limited to non-Japanese budoka either. I have witnessed many times even in Ishido Sensei's dojo, Japanese students making sounds of exasperation or disappointment when being told that they were doing something incorrectly, or that there was a "better way". There would then be a period of non-aggressive "arguing" (by this I mean, the student was trying to establish why they were being corrected) and then, after some time, they would then accept the advice and try to implement it. 

 

Budo Beneath the Surface

Peter Boylan, whose excellent Budo Bum blog I regularly read, is now posting on Substack. Please pay him a visit.

He recently had a post about the essentials of Budo practice, beneath what we see on the surface. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

Budo isn’t all about throws, chokes, joint locks, controls, thrusts, strikes, cuts, and parries, though those are the visible elements. They are what happens when the principles of budo are applied in physical conflict situations. However, there are lots of other things that can happen in combative situations if you’re applying the principles. All effective budo teach movement, timing, spacing, rhythm and strategy. If you control the spacing and timing in a conflict situation, you may never have to use a particular technique. You may create a situation where you are able to simply walk away because your adversary decided they were in a lousy position to launch an attack.

Shinto Muso Ryu Jodo and Kodokan Judo have very different physical techniques, different strategies of dealing with conflict, and different ways of organizing the body. The notions of effective spacing are very different, as are the ideas about movement, rhythm, and timing. In either one, when practiced effectively, you learn to control an adversary from the moment of connection rather than waiting for contact. Before you touch, the instant you become aware of each other, connection is established. Sumo is famous for this. All the posturing and staring at each other before the tachiai is about reading the opponent and trying to destabilize them mentally and emotionally before the start of the action.

I look at Shinto Muso Ryu and there are only 12 basic techniques from which more than 60 kata are built. This makes me wonder, why do we need 60 kata to practice 12 techniques? How many ways do you need to practice applying kihon to be good at them? Before you’re even halfway through learning the kata, your techniques are going to be solid and effective without you having to think about them, so what are the rest of the kata for?

The kata are for teaching you the important bits. The techniques are great, but they aren’t the most important part of what you’re learning. There are important lessons about the essential principles of spacing and timing (ma’ai 間合, which can refer to either one). Spacing and timing is many times more difficult to master than any of the techniques, and far more important. If you don’t understand spacing and timing, the odds of your technique working are small. Understanding spacing is a basic requirement for knowing which techniques can be applied. And timing, as the old saying goes, is everything.

As you move through the kata, you’re introduced to a variety of distances that you learn to be comfortable with. The distances being explored vary from well outside the issoku itto no ma, or “one step one cut” spacing, to being so close to your partner that you are nearly standing on their toes. That seems like the opposite of where you want to be if you’re wielding a big stick, but if you’re not comfortable at close ranges as well as long, you’ve still got a lot of learning ahead of you. Conflict happens at all ranges, and sometimes the safest place to be is right next to your opponent. Spacing in conflict is fluid, so there are numerous kata devoted to moving in and out of the various ranges.

 

 

 

The Rising Phoenix

Who among us hasn't had their regular practice shattered by the events of our lives? 

 Some of us never recover. The rest of us pick up the pieces and figure out a new way to carry on.

Maybe we must find a new teacher or even a new martial art.

Or start a new school.

Over at Kenshi24/7, there was a recent post describing how a job change led to the author founding a new kendo club, so that he could continue his own practice.

Below is an excerpt. The full post may be read here.

 

Back in 2014 I wrote how I made a deliberate change in my kendo life by deciding to focus on asageiko more. I had attended morning keiko since about 2009 (well, 2005, but that wasn’t few-and-far between and doesn’t count), but I went full-morning-mode in 2014 (Mon, Wed, and Fri: three times a week). After  my daughter arrived in 2017, my after-work kendo life mostly stopped and, instead, I focused almost entirely on asageiko and work sessions. 99% of my kendo at this time became kihon based. 

When the pandemic struck my asageiko sessions dried up and so, after a year, I decided to take matters into my own hands and began (starting February/March 2021) running my own morning sessions. When my usual asageiko re-started (in 2022) I decided to keep hosting my sessions as well… which meant some weeks I was doing asageiko every weekday. On top of that, I had my normal six keiko/week at work, and the occasional degeiko or Eikenkai session and what have you. Oh yeah, and I was constantly taking my students to shiai as well. 

Needless to say, I was doing a LOT of keiko. A lot. 

Sadly, this period of my life has come to an abrupt halt. 

I started working in my current school in autumn 2008. Almost immediately I took over the running of the kendo club and, for the last 17 years, through rain and shine, good times and bad times, I have been at the helm. I’ve taught hundreds of students, some of whom have gone on to pass yondan and godan. 

It was with a sad heart that on the last day of February this year I was told I was being transfered school in April. This is something that happens to all public servants in Japan, but I had been told – due to the uniqueness of my position – that a move would be highly unlikely. 

Still, I had actually expected a move to happen eventually, perhaps in the next three~five years, and had already had some schools (with good kendo clubs + near my home) in mind. Anyway, after the order came, I had to wait another week to find that the school I am being moved to is not only super far from my house, but the kendo club there had been shuttered, seemingly due the impact of the pandemic (no teacher to guide them through). 

Due to the distance of the school, my normal asageiko sessions have become almost impossible to attend (I can go during test seasons, days off, and the like). Added to that, I can’t run my own sessions anymore  because all my asageiko friends work in central Osaka. The number of weekday keikos I could do from April, because there is no kendo club in the new school, went from ten down to two (evening sessions at my police dojo).

My kendo life was turned upside down in an instant. 

At this point I had two choices: 1) wait for four years and apply for a transfer (that’s the minimum time you have to do before putting in a request)… but even there is no guarantee the school will even let me go (I’m a good teacher!); or 2) re-boot the kendo club. 

There was a kendo-jo in my new school… but the question was, given the current state of the kendo population amongst young people in Japan, could I even recruit any students? 

Once I knew what was happening and where I was going, I immediately set to work: within a day I already knew that there was an almost unused kendo-jo in the new school, which was a good start. It was communicated almost straight away (teachers have networks of colleagues – remember we all get moved around) that some kendo-crazed teacher was en-route to posses it.  

Arriving on April the first, the subject of kendo came up immediately, with many of my new colleagues taking an interest. I discovered almost immediately that the club that had been there for more than 50 years folded just prior to the pandemic. The kendo teacher that had been there retired a long while back and, with no replacement sent, the students ran things themselves for a few years. Due to this, over time, numbers sunk very low and when the pandemic hit it – and with nobody to lead them – the last nail was struck. 

My first job was to check out the condition of the kendo-jo and what it was being used for. I was pleasantly surprised to find the dojo, although bare of any ornamentation, was in very good condition. At least, the floor was. Bogu and various kendo bits n’ bobs had been left discarded in the storage areas and nothing was really kept in order. Usage wise, the baseball club used it when it was raining, and the music club used it for the odd concert. Hmmm, I thought. 

So, what does it take to start a kendo club in a public high school in Japan? Well, in the spirit of sharing my kendo experience with you, let me give you a brief rundown. 

Part one: get some members 

If I was to start a new club I of course needed students. I created some posters, stuck them up around the school, and waited. My new school has a rule that you cannot start a new club up without collecting ten interested students. Considering the downward spiral of kendo population in Japan of late, I had little confidence I could manage, so I was more than a bit concerned. On the very first day I went to put up posters – even before I put my first one up – a second year boy came to find me and ask about joining: “I heard about the kendo teacher in [my previous school] is famous, everyone knows about him” he said! 

Within a week I had collected enough students to start a club, more than enough. My final total was 15, which is three times more than my old school managed to gather this year. Go figure. 

 

 

The Yagyu Clan

Over at Budo Journeyman, there has been a series of posts about famous martial arts families, both east and west. Recently there was a post about the Yagyu clan; famous swordmen in Japan. 

I had no idea that they continued to hand down the art within the family beyond the 2nd or 3rd generation.

Below is an except. The full post may be read here.

 

In this part:

· Iemoto, family traditions passed on.

· The Yagyu school of swordmasters.

Iemoto.

There is a thing in older Japanese culture and the Arts called, ‘Iemoto’ 家元. It means, ‘family foundation’. It is/was to be found in the tea ceremony, calligraphy and traditional music. But, critics say that it suffers terribly from, rigidity, nepotism (clearly; because you are inclined to prioritise family connections over ability); as well as authoritarianism and a lack of a democratic process.

Well, maybe the last two are the most contentious ones. Particularly ‘democratic process’? Democracy is often described as ‘the best of a whole load of bad ideas’. Churchill said, “The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter”. In current UK politics, he had a point.

You could also make an argument that ‘genes do not maketh the man’, but who is qualified to comment? Certainly not me.

And then there is the idea of a hierarchy of competence based on merit. It’s a tricky one. Have a look at French and Raven’s ‘Bases of Power’, particularly ‘Legitimate Power’ and match it off against ‘Expert Power’. It is unusual for any head of an organisation to not claim that their authority comes from the idea that they are the definitive expert in their field.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/French_and_Raven%27s_bases_of_power

The Yagyu clan. Mid 16^th century to the modern age.

In this deep dive into dynasties, it would be negligent of me to miss out the Yagyu clan of sword masters.

According to the common understanding, currently the Yagyu have taught their system for thirteen generations.

Let me put that in perspective; a sword school that came out of a very practical life or death world, that somehow managed to survive into the current age, when really, through pressure from the modern world, the Japanese abandoned the sword in the 1860’s. How did that happen?

Let me return briefly to Part 1 and the world of Domenico Angelo in 18^th century London. Although, in Europe, the firearm had subsumed the sword as preferred weapon, the Angelo’s (over time) allowed fencing to be turned into a sporting art form where blood was never really drawn.

Whereas, in Japan, the martial arts became almost institutionalised, and despite its antiquated radically conservative image it’s still around, even the Old Schools, the Koryu. In part, it survived into the modern age because of sportification and that there were moves to slap a preservation order on some of the Koryu.

This certainly seemed to happen to the Tenshin Shōden Katori Shintō-ryū school of Bujutsu, of which the teachings of the school were designated an ‘Intangible Cultural Asset of Chiba Prefecture’ in 1960. I accept that for the modern Japanese that kind of martial arts, even though it is a national treasure, is not really hip and trendy; but, amazingly, it’s still hanging on.

The Yagyu.

The story of the Yagyu clan seems very hit and miss; it looks like their fortunes yoyoed and were dependent in lucky alliances.

The beginnings – First generation; Yagyu Munetoshi (1527 – 1606).

Although genealogically the Yagyu clan were well-connected, Munetoshi’s father was a minor landed lord.

Munetoshi, himself, rose to prominence as a military man through a series of unstable alliances before coming to the notice of an up-and-coming clan leader called Tokugawa Ieyasu. By the time that encounter had happened Munetoshi had put away his ambitions to be a warlord and retired to his fiefdom to refine and teach sword skills. You see, in his developing years as a martial artist, Munetoshi had experienced some lightbulb moments through encounters with other skilled swordsmen, notably, Kamiizumi Nobutsuna master of the Shinkage Ryu school of swordsmanship, an experience that both humbled and enlightened him; thus, we see the birth of Yagyu Shinkage Ryu.

The summons from Tokugawa Ieyasu came very late in Munetoshi’s career, but not so late that he was to prove the supremacy of his style by taking Tokugawa Ieyasu’s bokken off him (while unarmed) and knocking him on his ass.

The humbled Tokugawa was smart enough to recognise Munetoshi as an asset and a deal was established where Munetoshi’s son, Munenori, (second generation) was to become hereditary sword teacher to the newly emerging Tokugawa clan and its supremacy as Shogun in Japan.

Development across the generations.

As mentioned above, 13 generations and still around. But, it was not without its bumps in the road. It’s all too complicated to go into here but not all of the Yagyu successors and the various branchings-off seemed to be as skilled politically and socially as their earlier forebears. The clan/school branches did spread out which created a kind of Yagyu Shinkage monopoly, resting in part upon their reputation as sword teachers to the Shogun. But also, that the branches spread beyond the capital of Edo.

Sprinkled among the Yagyu teachers were some big hitters, who became almost mythical and their stories developed into legends and seeped into popular fiction as romantic heroes.

Overall, this is a solid combination that other generational martial arts families could learn from.

Short Swords

At Chris Hellman's Ichijoji Blog, there was an interesting article in the use of the short sword (tanto) in Japanese martial arts. An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

The katana is, perhaps, the sword most closely associated with the samurai, but it is worth remembering that the short sword was a consistent part of the equipment of the bushi class throughout their history, and the exclusive right to bear two swords became a defining privilege of that class during the Tokugawa period. It was worn in many situations where the longsword would typically not be worn for reasons of practicality or security, yet it typically formed a lesser part of a warrior’s training.

Swords seemed to have been central to training in many schools of bujutsu, although it is generally acknowledged that other weapons were more widely used on the battlefield. Swords had a deep cultural resonance going beyond mere practicality, also having religious and ceremonial uses, and perhaps this was why they were used as a vehicle for technical and theoretical development of basic principles and skills of combat that could be applied to a number of weapons.

 Nevertheless, specific skills for using the short sword were taught, often in conjunction with jujutsu or similar techniques of body control. The short sword was especially effective in situations where space was limited (such as indoors) or where surprise was a key element. Control of distance and line of attack were especially important, and the ease with which a short sword may be wielded with one hand leaves the other free for controlling the opponent.

 

The inherent disadvantage of the short sword when facing longer weapons could also be used to refine certain skills. Toda Seigen, reputedly the teacher of Sasaki Kojiro, Miyamoto Musashi’s famous opponent, was famous for his use of the short sword. Kojiro developed his skills with the extra-long sword from being a junior training partner for Toda as he further refined his short sword skills. (If you're interested, I wrote some more about that here).

Similarly, some two hundred years later, the eccentric swordsman Hirayama Kozo had his own students train in the short sword while facing an opponent with an extra-long sword to develop their spirit.

 

Hirayama wrote:

 

My swordsmanship is for slaying the enemy brutally. You must use this feeling of ferocity to penetrate directly into the enemy’s heart and mind. (Kensetsu – Sword theory)

 

 

Three Principles of Kendo Training

Below is an excerpt from a post that appeared at Kenshi 24/7. It is a translation of a treatise by a senior kendo teacher on the priciples of kendo training, which may be of interest to all martial artists at large. 

The full post may be read here.

This small piece was taken from the book “Heisei kendo reader” by Sakuma Saburo, published in 1997. Hanshi hachidan, he passed away at the age of 84 four months before the publication of the book.

The Three Principles of Kendo Training

1. Pressure the omote (of the shinai) and strike the ura (of the shinai).
2. Pressure the ura and strike the omote.
3. Strike at the moment the opponent moves (debana waza).

In kendo, the “front” (表 omote) and “back” (裏 ura) are defined based on the opponent’s right kote. The side with the right kote is considered the uraside. It is important to have balance between these three principles. 

Until about the third dan, many practitioners are simply excited about jumping in and landing strikes or winning matches. However, around the fourth or fifth dan, they begin to reflect more deeply and ask, “Sensei, what is seme?” This is a difficult question to answer. I explain it as follows:

“For example, to pressure (seme) men means to express a feeling of attacking it with strong spirit and determination.”

When you aim your kensaki at the opponent’s left eye and pressure their men, they may instinctively raise their hands slightly in defense. In that instant, you can step to the left with your left foot and strike their kote. This is an example of pressuring the omote and striking the ura.

Another example: If you move your kensaki under the opponent’s shinai and pressure the right kote as if attacking it, they will likely shift their shinai to guard their kote. At that moment, you can (returning your shinai back to the omote side) quickly leap forward and strike their men. This demonstrates pressuring the ura and striking the omote.

The third principle, debana,  refers to attacking at the exact moment your opponent begins to move. In The Book of Five Rings (Gorin no Sho), Miyamoto Musashi explains this concept:

• When you see the opponent’s movement with your physical eyes, it is called “ken no me” ( 見の目 seeing).
• When you sense their intention to move before they actually move, it is called “kan no me” (観の目 perceiving).

Anyone can use ken no me, but kan no me is much harder to develop. Only through long years of training does the mind’s eye become sharp enough to anticipate the opponent’s actions. True mastery is achieved when you can strike at the precise moment using kan no me.

Kendo is not something that can be learned through last-minute cramming like a school exam. Some people return to the dojo for the first time in months, just before their grading exam, expecting to pass. This is a serious misunderstanding. 

Kendo requires continuous dedication, both in spirit and technique. The key to mastery lies in persistent training while thinking deeply and with the aim of constant self–improvement in mind.

 

 

Budo Book Review

At The Budo Bum Blog, Patrick Boylan wrote a book review for Unravelling The Cords: The Instructions of a Master in the Tradition of Taisha-ryu. This appears to be an important book about Budo thought. An excerpt is below. The full review may be read here.

Unraveling The Cords: The Instructions of a Master in the Tradition of Taisha-ryu 
Georgi Krastev & Alex Allera (authors), Yamamoto Takahiro (contributor)

476 pages

Hardcover and softbound

2023

Available through Amazon and the Purple Cloud Institute

I have finished reading the most insightful book I have ever encountered on budo thought and philosophy. “Unravelling the Cords: The Instructions of a Master in theTradition of Taisha-ryū” by Georgi Krastev & Alex Allera, with significant assistance from Yamamoto Takahiro (Contributor). Krastev and Allera are longtime students of Taisha Ryu, and Yamamoto is a shihan of Taisha Ryu. They know the ryuha, and at least as important in this case, they know the literary and cultural background of the author they are translating.

What they are translating is Nakano Shumei’s 17th century treatise, “Taisha Ryu Kaichu.” Taisha Ryu is a sister art to the more well-known Yagyu Shinkage Ryu. Like Yagyu Shinkage Ryu, Taisha Ryu was founded by a menkyo kaiden student of Shinkage Ryu founder Kamiizumi Ise-no Kami Nobutsuna, in this case, Marume Kurando. Nakano Shumei was a late 17th century master of Taisha Ryu, and he wrote the Kaichu to help later generations better understand and practice the art.

The translation of Taisha Kaichu and other writings by Nakano Shumei is excellent, and makes up about a quarter of the Unraveling the Chords. A history of Taisha Ryu and Nakano Shumei, along with the discussion of the Buddhist, Daoist, and Confucian thought that flows through Nakano’s writing takes up about half of the book, and reference materials, including the original Japanese for all of Nakano’s writings, makes up the last quarter of the book.

Until this volume was published in 2023, Taisha Ryu Kaichu was unknown outside of a few scholars of Taisha Ryu. Like the Heiho Kadensho by Yagyu Munenori of Yagyu Shinkage Ryu, it is a treasure of information and budo wisdom. The authors of Unraveling the Chords have done a masterful job of not only translating Taisha Ru Kaichu, but also locating it in the history of Chinese and Japanese philosophical thought. Through extensive footnoting, the authors have made clear just how much an education in these philosophical concepts is needed to truly understand their subject. They point out where seemingly mundane phrases are references to important philosophical concepts that transform the meaning of what is being read.

Knowing neither ‘Enemy’ no ‘I’

Serene is made the twilight sky

By wind rustling the pines.

                                        Page 178

This is the last of fifty teaching poems by Nakano Shumei contained in the Kaichu. It seems straightforward, yet the authors of Unraveling the Chords took half a page just to list all of the references contained in this brief poem. Without the copious footnotes, the meaning of the Kaichu and all of the other things translated would be completely missed by readers.

In addition to the translation, the authors provide more than 200 pages of history, as well as explanations of the Buddhist, Daoist, and Confucian ideas and concepts that are necessary to understand Nakano Shumei’s writings. Alone, this necessary background should be a requirement for anyone who is serious about understanding the mental and philosophical aspects of the Japanese martial arts. As a companion to the widely known and generally misunderstood Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi, Heiho Kadensho by Yagyu Munenori, or any of the writings of the zen master Takuan Soho, this book is an invaluable resource.

 

 

The Sword of Doom

Over at the excellent Ichijoji blog, Chris Hellman had a post about a classic samurai movie, the Sword of Doom. The post includes one of the most iconic sword duels in filmdom, which I will NOT include here. Visit the blog instead.

An excerpt is below. The full post may be read here.

The snow yesterday (not so common these days, and comparatively light compared to much of the rest of the country) reminded me of this classic scene from the film, The Sword of Doom, one of the several versions of the multi-volume novel by Nakazato Kaizan, Daibosatsu Toge – Great Buddha Pass, but arguably the best. (The others do have their good points, though). 

The sword master, Shimada Toranosuke, played here by Toshiro Mifune, (I have written his name the English way, but all the other names here are written surname first) is attacked mistakenly on his way back from a friend’s house. The attackers realise they have the wrong man, but make the mistake of pressing on with the attack regardless. This may be one of Mifune’s best appearances as a swordmaster (admittedly, the role is quite minor) but he plays it to perfection.

Zatoichi's Nasiest Fight

Who doesn't like Zatoichi?

 

Musashi vs Kusarigama

Below is a clip from a movie about Musashi, where he duels with ShiShido Baiken, who was skilled with the kusaigama.It's very entertaining.

 

Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu

Below is a documentary about Sugino Yukihiro, the current head teacher of the Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu.

 

Why Didn't Samurai Use Shields?

 

Cutting Incorrectly

I stumbled onto the Shugyo blog, where the author is tracking his progress in iaido and jodo. I happened to read an old post that I found quite interesting, about cutting incorrectly. There are several short videos that you'll have to follow the link to watch. The full post may be read here.

So I am now approaching the one-year boundary to taking my 7th dan grading in Iaido and achieving Level 10 Paladin status (with a +8 vorpal blade to boot). Naturally this means I now have to focus on the important things in life to prepare:

• Watching more Youtube
• Starting to write more blogs
• Procrastinating about finishing them
• Doing the washing up

 So in this theme of avoiding doing any training at all costs, I thought I would spend some time in the dojo filming my students and commenting about how they are "still doing it wrong, you never listen, why am I even here if you don't listen, I told you this last week etc, etc, etc" so I ensure that they feel that they are properly valued.
I decided to turn my focus on Kesagiri, a form that somehow gets little attention compared to other Seiteigata so by my reckoning probably means that we (I mean me) are missing out some essential bits.
Let's start at the beginning with the translation of the ZNKR instruction on the most important part in this path to spiritual perfection - hacking your opponent in two...

1. While facing the front, begin walking with the right foot; when the left foot is in front quickly place both hands on the sword. Rotate the saya left and down while drawing the sword; at the same time that the right foot moves forwards, with a right-handed grip cut the enemy in front from their right wakibara in a reverse kesa cut. Note - when the sword has cut up, the sword should be rotated when the right fist is above the right shoulder.
2. With the feet in the same position, with the left hand bring the saya back to it's original position, release the koiguchi and grip the tsuka; without stopping the sword from the rising cut, cut the enemy from the shoulder joint down through the kesa. Note - at the end of the cut, the alignment of the left fist and the kissaki should be the same as Kata No. 3 Note on Point 2.*

* This refers to the kissaki being slightly below horizontal and slightly to the left with the left hand in front of the navel

I'm going to stop there because I don't want to get into how to make hasso kamae etc.

In the chakuganten (critical points for examination and judging) the significant one of the two is asking whether the rotation of the sword is made above the shoulder or not.

So these are the bits which are "decided"; we also receive various bits of advice and instruction from our Japanese patron teachers over many years including:

• The two cuts should be joined into one
• The initial draw should make a pressure to the enemy's face
• The distance to the enemy for both cuts is the same

I think these are generally inarguable as they have been instructed by a very wide range of teachers, both from official delegations to private invitations.

Choosing a Katana

It has been said that the most important decision that you'll make in  your life is choosing whom to marry. It follows that the second most important decision is which katana to carry. 

Japanese actor Keita Arai helps you to make the correct choice in the following video. Enjoy.

Shiai and Classical Japanese Martial Arts

There is a conception that Classical Japanese Martial Arts only practiced kata. At Ellis Amdur's excellent Kogen Budo blog, there is a four part series examining free-style training and CJMA, specifically in Yagyu Shinkage Ryu kenjutsu.

 Part 1 may be read here. An excerpt is below.

Part 1 – Introduction

With this series of articles, I would like to address a certain dissatisfaction with the common debates one sees online regarding koryū, kata training and sparring or what is called “aliveness.” These are typically framed in very binary ways, something I find incongruent with both my own experience of practice, my understanding of the history of koryū in general, and Yagyū Shinkage Ryū Heihō (YSR) in specific.

• This part will be an introduction to the argument I am addressing, the terms with which I will address it, a very general look at the history of shiai in classical Japanese martial traditions, and some of my own conclusions and speculations.
• Part 2 will be an examination of the appearance of shiai in the early historical record of YSR. Fortunately, the historical record is relatively well-preserved, and has been printed in a number of different modern sources.
• Part 3 will look at the modern (post-Meiji) history of shiai in YSR.
• Finally, in Part 4, I would like to present the YSR approach to kata and free training, specifically through the lens of what we call the “shiai-seihō,” or “shiai-gata.” I’ll note that this material is adapted from private presentations I’ve made elsewhere.

I suspect that on the whole much of what I am talking about is present in other traditions, if not expressed or thought about in exactly the same terms. So, I want to stress that the ultimate goal here is not to boast about the specialness of YSR, but rather to hopefully inspire further study of these ideas in other traditions, and encourage a re-examination of commonly held assumptions.

Let’s begin by defining our terms. I’ll be using the term shiai throughout the series, mostly because that is the term used in the Japanese sources I have. What do I mean by “shiai?” Let’s first define its ostensible counterpart, kata-geiko (form training), as two-person practice utilizing certain pre-set parameters, the end result of which expresses one or a few predictable shapes. This would include very simple drills such as pad work, uchikomi-geiko in jūdō and kendō, and of course the more sophisticated kata of koryū.

Shiai is an engagement between two people with non-lethal intent, typically with semi-or full-contact, for the purpose of training or testing of skill, utilizing spontaneous expression of technique within set parameters partly or wholly outside the parameters of kata-geiko. This includes point-matches, non-point matches, jigeiko and kakarigeiko in kendō, randori in jūdō, “free practice,” and “sparring.”

I believe these can be seen as a spectrum rather than discrete items. Indeed, of the examples given above, kendō’s kakarigeiko in particular seems to straddle the line. I hope to provide another, more detailed example in Part 4.

Having defined our terms, let’s now look at the argument. The following represent ideas that I have often run into in discussions online, and even in printed material. The general argument can be summed up as this:

“Koryū didn’t spar. The masters of the old days didn’t have friendly matches; they had duels. The primary training method of koryū was kata-geiko. Later, in the mid-19th century, matches with bōgu became popular, which lead to the development of modern kendō, and Kanō developed his randori and shiai-system for modern jūdō.”

I have no desire to to rehash the old “jutsu vs. dō” discussion, but I think it is fair to say that, in general, classical schools are seen as kata-centric, conservative, and focused on either battlefield combat or dueling. Modern budō, then, is seen as shiai-centric, relatively innovative, and focused on physical and mental fitness. In terms of history, kendō and jūdō are seen as new innovations of the Meiji era, distinct from classical schools, many of which have died off. It is also generally assumed that the classical schools that remain are representative of their respective eras.

All of the above strikes me as perfectly reasonable given the information that we have had available to us. The problem, however, lies in that very last assumption, that extant classical schools are representative of their eras. It underpins everything else. But I would submit that we have a survivor bias issue. Extant classical schools, far from exemplars of Edo period and earlier ryūha, almost assuredly represent only the most conservative traditions.

It’s believed that there were some one thousand four hundred martial arts ryūha existing by the time of the Meiji Restoration. Together, the Nihon Kobudō Kyōkai and Nihon Kobudō Shinkōkai account for less than eighty. While not every extant ryūha belongs to those organizations, it’s unlikely that there also exist sixty-some other traditions needed to get us to even 10% of the number that once existed. I suspect that many, probably even most pre-Meiji kenjutsu and jūjutsu schools had a strong shiai tradition, perhaps even being shiai-centric, and that these schools eventually became subsumed into kendō and jūdō.

In my opinion, the real primary difference between classical and modern budō is not necessarily based on its approach to real combat, but rather that classical budō was proprietary, while modern budō is largely open-source. And rather than a break at an inflection point in Meiji, I think there was simply a gradual shift from the classical paradigm into the modern one. Certainly, some events accelerated this shift, particularly the modernization of Japan in the Meiji era.