The Shiai-Seihō and Aliveness in Yagyū Shinkage-ryū Practice

Let us now consider at how Yagyū Shinkage-ryū is practiced, particularly in relation to levels of “aliveness.” The Yagyū Shinkage-ryū curriculum is broadly divided into two groups: the honden (original teachings) and the gaiden (supplemental teachings). The honden are the tachi devised and passed down by Kamiizumi Hidetsuna and Yagyū Munetoshi (including beginner’s versions of two of these forms devised by 5th soke Yagyū Renya and 6th soke Lord Tokugawa Mitsutomo). The gaiden are made up of the shiai-seihō devised by assistant instructor Nagaoka Fusashige, plus some unique forms developed by Renya.

Let’s say that a young man named Tarō has joined Yagyū Shinkage-ryū. In his first couple of training sessions, he learns: reihō, how walk (more-or-less) with his shinai held overhead, how to do a straight cut with both feet, how to do a diagonal cut with his right foot (right to left), and then his left foot (left to right). Then he learns how to do gasshi. This is the most essential gokui of Yagyū Shinkage-ryū, and the hardest thing to do right, so naturally it is the very first thing he learns how to do. Very quickly, he’s taught the five parts of Sangaku En-no-Tachi. This is a beginner’s version, with all exchanges happening from that shinai overhead position. As soon as he knows the basic shape of this, he’s moved on to the first shiai-seihō. This is Airaito Hasseihō: eight distinct seihō to teach fundamentals. For the next six months, these two kata are going to be pretty much all his training. (Some other lines might include the beginner’s version of Kuka no Tachi at this stage, but the idea is still the same.) In the honden he will polish the mental/spiritual side (kurai) while practicing timing, and the subtle interaction of cutting lines. In the shiai-seihō, he will work on energetic, whole-body movement while honing his senses of timing and distance. Nagaoka wrote in his commentary of the shiai-seihō that, “I have included the rocks with the jewels, to encourage 博文約礼 hakubun-yakurei (correct behavior by broad learning).”

In this initial phase, the beginning student’s practice is what we call torigai 鳥飼, which means “bird-handling.” Uchidachi’s shinai will never strike Tarō, but Tarō’s shinai will always strike the uchidachi. The idea here is to train a conditioned response. One might think that he is learning how to “do it right,” but “correctness” is less of a concern than doing it with whole body and spirit. Better to make a mistake doing it with all that you are than timidly and pedantically trying to “do it right.”

Eventually, as Tarō starts moving well, carrying himself with confidence and dignity, he learns the next shiai-seihō forms: fourteen with Tarō in seigan against an uchidachi with shinai overhead, and then another eight with Tarō in gedan against uchidachi with shinai overhead. In our line, this is where he learns the beginner’s form of Kuka no Tachi. At this point, his seniors start practicing with him in a way we call torigai higiri. Higiri can be written in two ways: 間斬り “cutting openings” or 非斬り “cutting what should not be.” Having gotten into the habit of doing things with all his body and mind, now Tarō starts working on getting the technical aspects right, because uchidachi’s shinai will strike him if the technique is not properly performed. The important distinction between this stage and later stages is that the uchidachi is not specifically trying to hit Tarō, other than in the sense of cutting to one or another particular target. Rather, the hits could be considered “self-inflicted.” If Tarō does not do the technique wrong, he will not be hit. His uchidachi is simply fully cutting to a particular target. Although Tarō begins to be struck on his hands or legs, it’s not especially painful and skin scrapes aside, it’s rarely injurious. Again, the goal is creating a further conditioned response: ignoring being struck, staying in the moment, and continuing the kata.

Tarō’s practice continues, and sometime after a year of regular training, he learns the standard version of Sangaku En no Tachi, with cuts starting from a chūdan or gedan position. He’s learned to make these kinds of cuts in the various shiai-seihō, so it is not a big shift to start doing the form in this way. Now his seniors start practicing in a way called higiri. Here Tarō’s uchidachi really begins to stress-test him. Targets become variable. If his uchidachi see an opening or they see Tarō starting to rely too much on the expected form of the kata, they may break the kata to strike where he has left himself open.

Tarō’s uchidachi begin to alter timing and distance, making Tarō adjust. Particularly in the shiai-seihō, his uchidachi try to push Tarō out of his comfort zone, so that he can see where he needs to improve. And while being struck in earlier stages didn’t really hurt, being struck here hurts a lot. At this point, Tarō’s conditioned response has been trained enough so that even while his brain registers that a hit really smarts, he doesn’t even flinch.

The ability to properly watch his uchidachi and respond if they bend or even break the kata is important, because sometime 2 to 3 years after joining, Tarō starts learning how to do the uchidachi side. Initially, he will practice uchidachi with others of roughly the same level, and they are not as precise or controlled as the veterans he’s been practicing with until now. At the same time as he is learning uchidachi for the shiai-seihō that he already knows, he’s also learning new shiai-seihō. These new shiai-seihō are especially helpful, as often they are set-up the opposite of the earlier shiai-seihō he learned: shidachi with shinai overhead against uchidachi in seigan or gedan. Essentially, he is learning from the other side, as shidachi, counters and responds to the techniques that he’s now receiving as uchidachi. But not in sense of “If A, then B,” but rather, “here are multiple possible ways of dealing with something A-like.”

Four to five years in, Tarō learns both the shidachi and uchidachi side of the standard version of Kuka no Tachi. This is significant because, until now, his practice with his juniors has been under the watchful eye of a senior. Now, however, he’s considered a shidosha, someone who can be trusted to practice with a junior on his own. At the same time, his practice with other shidosha moves to the higiri-jiai stage. This means that both shidachi and uchidachi are on the look out for openings, and may break the kata if applicable. But in the case of the shiai-seihō, is it breaking the kata if one simply slips into another kata?

Let’s look at a practical example. In the 2nd seihō of Airaito Hasseihō, shidachi and uchidachi approach. Shortly before entering into cutting distance, shidachi surreptitiously slips their foot into range, and quickly strikes at uchidachi’s upraised forearm. Shidachi follows up by advancing a few steps, pushing uchidachi back. It is incumbent that shidachi stay in contact with uchidachi as uchidachi retreats rather than getting stuck in place or running out of steam. The reason why is demonstrated in a later shiai-seihō, where the set-up is exactly the same with shidachi striking first and driving uchidachi back. But in the latter seihō, uchidachi shoots back to create enough distance do a retreating cut at shidachi’s hands. Shidachi must now switch from driving uchidachi back, to cutting down this new attack. Between two veteran practitioners, familiar with these seihō, it is nothing for uchidachi to slip into the later seihō if he deems shidachi’s cut and advance does not sufficiently prevent him from doing so. Ideally, shidachi should be able to naturally respond to it, as trained. And that response may not necessarily be from the same seihō!

Practically, one may not see many such variations over the course of a practice. At that point, practitioners are so aware that it could happen that they practice so it doesn’t happen. Their practice is infused with the tension of this potentiality. The standard “shape” of the kata is not the goal of the practice, but simply the end result of both practitioners fulfilling the particular parameters of that kata. The infrequent, but not uncommon, variations are themselves entirely valid shapes.

It should also be noted that while these various stages have been clearly delineated through the example of Tarō’s practice above, in actuality the boundaries are not so distinct. From the beginning, Tarō has been told to look out for openings in his uchidachi, and even to strike them if he sees them. Depending on his relationship and affinity with various seniors, as well as the particular thing being practiced, his torigai practice was leavened with torigai-higiri, or even straight higiri to illustrate a particular point, or to point out his own inattention/reliance on the expected shape of the kata.

Please note that although it is ostensibly expected, as weel as the ideal form of practice, higiri-jiai can be a fraught affair. Trust is needed, for both safety and for the maintenance of personal relationships, particularly among peers. There is a fine line between good-faith demonstration of an opening, and “cheap-shotting” someone. Some people, finding it a little too intense to do among their peers, or reluctant to do it with seniors, end up only doing a kind of torigai-higiri.

We can see how Yagyū Toshinaga, within this framework, saw another step to bridge higiri-jiai to full-on shiai: you can set up shiai within particular shiai-seihō parameters—say, jodan vs chudan or jodan vs jodan and either with specified targets, or any target whatsoever.. And you can also see Nagaoka Fusashige’s goal: you can have entirely open shiai, where the strategies, targets, and techniques, are heavily informed by shapes vigorously trained in the shiai-seihō.

Entirely open shiai is not officially practiced in mainline Yagyū Shinkage-ryū in modern times. Should it be?

I don’t it think necessarily needs to be. First of all, modern kendō is an outlet for people who really just want to engage is a kind of free practice, unbound by any parameters of kata-geiko.

I’ve also come to the conclusion that maintaining the integrity of the honden and gaiden requires intensive effort. Perhaps it is a matter of entropy, but even doing kata in the manner described above, some people, with the best of intentions, have a tendency to do the kata in a mannered way, or, in desiring to do the kata “right,” they do not imbue it with the life it needs. This is not necessary proof that free-style shiai is necessary. I fear that, as Yagyū Toshimichi suggested, if we split our limited time between kata and shiai, that entropy would increase, particularly if the shiai came to be seen as doing it “for real”. I go back to Nagaoka-sensei’s preface to the shiai-seihō in Part 3, and note that even back then, shiai were enough of an issue that he actually created more kata.

In the meantime, higiri and higiri-jiai provide a degree of “aliveness” for feedback, particularly in the shiai-seihō. And finally, by diligently working to maintain the process described here, a framework exists to return to shiai if desired.

In conclusion, Yagyū Shinkage-ryū Heihō is a Sengoku era ryūha extant today with a focus exclusively on kata, but which has nevertheless been strongly associated with shiai in its practice since its beginning. Its dedicated use of the fukuroshinai allows it to create a spectrum of “aliveness” throughout the training process. It is probable that similar ryūha existed throughout the Edo period. Yagyū Shinkage-ryū can be seen as an exemplar of the type of ryūha in the Meiji period that, when faced with the change of kendō from distinct “proprietary” styles to a more homogenized “open source” paradigm, chose to maintain a primary focus on its kata in order to preserve its particular character.

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