KogenBudo

The Curious Relationship Between Naginatajutsu & Kusarigamajutsu

When naginatajutsu was first taught as a specialty amongst Japanese weaponry is unknown. To start with, the claimed founding dates of almost all martial ryūha are dubious.  Many claim a founding date hundreds of years previous to their actual inception. This is not dishonesty; in earlier periods of Japanese history, lineage was as much a spiritual sense as it was historical data. Therefore, lineage records often mixed generations of non-practicing family members, teachers of other ryūha who influenced the development of one’s own, and famous warriors of the past whom the founder regarded as inspirations.

It is likely that the genuine founding dates of naginata-specialty ryūha was in the mid-Edo period. Yazawa Isaō, a 16th generation instructor of Toda-ha Bukō-ryū (now properly known as Tenshin Bukō-ryū) then at Nihon Joshi Daigaku, wrote in 1916 “It is not clear when naginatajutsu began to be taught as a single discipline. I have gone around to the few remaining martial arts instructors of the former domains of Japan, and examined the various military manuals they own. Upon reviewing these I discovered the oldest school of naginata is the Shizuka-ryū.” [1]

Most of the schools she enumerated in her article are long extinct, but even a superficial consideration of remaining naginatajutsu schools will show something curious—many of them include the kusarigama (‘weighted chain and sickle) within their curricula; for example, this is true for Shizuka-ryū, Bukō-ryū, Tendōryū, and Jikishinkage-ryū. [2] Given that the naginata-specialty schools became associated with women within a few generations of their creation (certainly by the late Edo-period), I have wondered at the association of these two weapons.

It is possible that this juxtaposition is rooted in a single story, a famous mid-Edo tale known as the  Go Taiheiki Shiraishi Banashi. It was preserved within bunraku (puppet theatre) and also as a kabuki drama. In this story— based on fact or merely fiction, I do not know— two peasant’s daughters, one armed with a naginata and the other with a kusarigama, take revenge on a samurai who, years previously, had murdered their father. [3] It would not be the only time that ‘fact follows fiction.’ Think of gangsters who imitate what they see in movies, or how Hong Kong kung fu movies, most notably those of Bruce Lee, influenced the development of martial arts in the west. However, although this story may have had some influence, it is hard to believe that a number of disparate ryūha, located on three islands over 3000 kilometers in length, would all be similarly influenced by a puppet theatre/kabuki drama. [4] Is there, therefore, a more fundamental reason that martial studies that were particularly associated with women that particularly focused on naginatajutsu, would include such an unusual auxiliary weapon? Let us consider Tenshin Bukō-ryū as an example.

Fear Of Flying Objects

Bukō-ryū, like most traditional martial arts, was taught in the following manner—students were taught the shitachi (‘doing sword’) side of each and every kata first. [5] The shitachi, for those who are not initiated in the terminology, learns how to fight with each and every weapon in the curriculum. He or she opposes a senior student who, taking the teaching role, enacts the uketachi (‘receiving sword’). The uketachi is expected to be more skilled, and provides attacks throughout the kata sequence that challenge shitachi at the upmost limits of his or her skill. This is not merely rote choreography. Uketachi, in particular, can ‘physically point out’ shitachi’s errors by suppressing or countering the latter’s technique. Shitachi is ‘templated’ into proper technique by being forced by his or her training opponent.

Quite far along in the curriculum of Bukō-ryū (in its Meiji and Taisho period versions, but not passed down into modern times), were five kata with kusarigama in the shitachi position, and the sword as uketachi.  In these kata, one learns how to fight using a kusarigama by training against a sword. [6]

There are another five kusarigama kata, these still extant, part of the fourth set that a student learns (as shitachi). Here, the kusarigama is in the uketachi (teaching) role, against a naginata. There is no doubt whatsoever that a naginata, a two and one-half meter long-bladed weapon, is far more powerful than a sickle with a chain-and-weight attached. It is an almost absurd juxtaposition. As this kata set comes far earlier in the curriculum, the beginner student would first encounter the kusarigama in this set, after learning three other sets: naginata vs sword, and naginata vs naginata, and naginata vs. yari (spear). What is notable to me, however, is when I introduce a student to this set and face them with the kusarigama, they are intimidated, even though this is a weapon replica. To be sure, there is a bare chain with a padded weight, but any injury that one might get from this would be trivial, certainly when compared to being struck by a heavy wooden naginata or oaken sword.

Student flinch away from the flying weight and chain. Nonetheless, I frequently hit them: in the head, face, shoulders or arms. This is particularly true with women, even in these modern times. Although it is possible that this will no longer be an issue in the next generation, women, generally speaking, play far less ball games, and engage in far fewer mock fights, where kids throw snowballs, clumps of earth . . . or rocks at each other. On average, they are less skilled throwing things, and less able to judge the trajectory of a flying object. If this is true even in modern Western society, think how much more so in the controlled society of Edo-period Japan, where the main form of social control was shame, and women had far less freedom to play or roughhouse. Girls had very little experience with flying objects, and women were far less likely to have had fast moving objects hit them in the face in games or other competitive activities. This explains, I believe, why women-prominent-if-not-dominant martial ryuha had the kusarigama in their curricula—it was a ‘remedial training to familiarize women with this dynamic component of physical skill.

Students would learn the initial forms of the school. The weapons were of fixed length and therefore, in a relatively short period of time, they would, so they believed, master maai (spacing and timing). Within the clash of weapons, they would unconsciously gauge distance, and would know whether or not theor opponent’s weapon could reach their flesh. They could estimate how many steps it would take to close the distance and would gain confidence in their ability to ‘cut across the other’s steps,’ and reach them first. The student would become over-confident.

And then they would face a new weapon, one that flew in eccentric angles and curves; it could hit them at angles and trajectories impossible with a fixed-size weapon.

  • Because the attacker could lash out with a single hand, the weight would somehow seem to materialize, one meter further than they thought it could reach, to thump (or crack) into their body.
  • Even it missed, it could whirl around faster than you could get off the mark and hit you a second time.
  • When the moving chain begins to wrap around a limb, face or neck and is yanked, it can abrade or even tear the flesh.
  • And then, imagine that you finally caught the timing, stepping inside the arc of the chain-and-weight. Just as you thought you could strike your opponent, they step even further inside the arc of your own long naginata, and strike you with the sickle at very close range.

It truly is a rude awakening to be introduced to a flying object, coming at you from unexpected angles, coupled with a weapon that can deflect, trap and cut at face-to-face range. The kusarigama introduces an element of uncertainty to the student, just when she or he is getting confident that they’ve mastered such elements as spacing, timing and attacking the target of his or her choosing. I believe that this was an essential component in developing top-level skills, particularly for women practitioners.

Don’t Hit Your Teacher

Another element that increases the level of tension for the student is a peculiar way that the kusarigama is used—not only within Bukō-ryū, but in other naginata schools as well. The mock wooden sickle that is used for training has an extension of the haft that projects about 2-3 centimeters beyond the base of the blade. In the finishing move of many kata, the person with the naginata or sword cuts straight downwards, and is blocked using the ‘joint’ between this projection and the back/base of the sickle blade, with one hand only. Of course, if shidachi cut with full power, they would smash through this block and injure uketachi, so he/she must cut with ‘just enough’ power, to be ‘honest’ without being overwhelming. Even so, if the cut wavers only a centimeter to either side, or the kusarigama user doesn’t control the center line, he/she will be struck by the heavy wooden naginata or sword. This teaches the student to cut with precision—a prefect, absolutely vertical cut every time.

Remember, the kusarigama is wielded by the senior—or even the teacher. Within feudal Japanese society, smashing your instructor on the head or arm would be a serious violation. Beyond the physical training, a very significant social dynamic is set up; it is incumbent on the student to cut perfectly—every time—particularly because the teacher has willingly put herself or himself at risk for the sake of the student’s learning. This is a very powerful bonding act, engendering a sense of gratitude and loyalty on the part of the student. And because this puts him or her under a sense of severe stress, the student learns to maintain precision in less than perfect conditions. This mindset is known as fudoshin (‘immovable mind’).

鏁鎌合気之事 Kusarigama Aiki No Koto

Interestingly, these Bukō-ryū kata are referred to as 鏁鎌合気之事 (kusarigama aiki no koto). Aiki is a word that many of my readers will be familiar with in the context of Daito-ryū or aikidō. There are, within Bukō-ryū, two main nuances to this word. Aiki can be translated as ‘Connection-of-Spirit/Energy.’ This can either mean ‘two Spirit/Energy connection’ or ‘connection of one’s own Spirit/Energy.’

As I described in detail above, in “Don’t Hit Your Teacher,” these kata place the onus on the student to read the situation correctly and cut perfectly. They equally place the onus on the teacher to set up the conditions so shitachi CAN LEARN to read the situation correctly. This is epitomized, as I described above, in the final cut to the top of the kusarigama. Teacher/senior and student must fit together perfectly—if they don’t, this will result in either physical or social injury. Particularly within pre-modern times, the latter may have had far more significant negative consequences. A quite severe level of stress is injected into training through these forms—one must maintain proper aiki (connection) regardless.

There is another perspective to the name, aiki no koto that goes directly to the thesis in my book,  Hidden in Plain Sight. Here, again, is Yazawa Isaō: “I often get asked, ‘Why is it so difficult to use the kusarigama?’  The answer is that, if not sufficiently trained in budo, people can’t do the movements. Furthermore, using the chain improperly causes the practitioner’s body integrity to be distorted or collapse. It is easy for suki (opening’ within one’s defenses or structure) to appear, and in particular, the chain will not properly extend and reach its intended target. Therefore, it is essential that any student learning the kusarigama must first have a firm grasp of the fundamentals of both the sword and naginata.”  [7]

On face-value, the last sentence is rather mundane. However, were this all that was requisite, then my readers, some of whom are quite expert with sword or naginata, should be able to pick up a kusarigama and use it with ease. That will not be the case, particularly if you are using a weapon like that of Bukō-ryū, where the chain is attached to the top of the haft, and you lash outward in one-handed attacks, almost as if it were a whip. Unlike a whip, however, which is weighted at the base, the kusarigama has a weight at the end of the chain, which literally will pull you off balance. Moreover, the more speed that you generate, the harder it is to grasp the kama (sickle), which almost writhes in your grip.

It is only when you learn to use your body as a connected unit that you can manage these eccentric, centrifugal forces. It is, in fact, very easy to hit yourself with the weight—were this a chunk of iron, you’d break bones, or even worse. [8] It is not, therefore, simply a matter of having dexterity with fixed weapons before you can graduate to flexible weapons. Rather, you must have mastery of tanden-directed movement, where the arms are the conveyors rather than the expressors of power. What Yazawa sensei is pointing out, albeit subtly, is that there was a substrate of specialized information on the creation of a ‘bujutsu body,’ and one of the keys to learning it within naginata schools such as Bukō-ryū  is through kusarigama practice.

This knowledge is largely abandoned in the modern versions of even classical martial traditions–observation of films of shihan one or two generations back show that they no longer used the kusarigama with such tanden-driven movement. I believe this is due, in part, to the replacement of a chain on the kusarigama with a cord which was done in so many martial traditions. With the latter, the body is no longer challenged in the way Yazawa sensei describes. It was only when I restored a chain to the kusarigama (something my teacher, Nitta sensei enthusiastically approved of) that I recognized this factor of ‘internal aiki’ as a requisite component of training.

Without a true understanding of how to use the body, you certainly will not be able to use the kusarigama so that it provides a worthy training opponent to the naginata. Beyond that, however, once one realizes the need for the development of a ‘bujutsu body,’ (or specifically, a Bukō-ryū body), this will reverberate back into the way one uses other weapons such as the naginatayari, or sword.  And returning to my theme earlier in this essay, this is particularly valuable for women, who were, generally, smaller and less powerful. Through the use of aiki, in the sense that I am describing it, they could vastly increase their power by learning to use their entire body as a coordinated unit, and their precision and speed as well. In short, the kusarigama is, in my view, a linchpin training device to empower all that one does within one’s training.

Footnotes

 [1]  薙刀の話 “A Talk On The Naginata”–Yasawa Isaō : Instructor of Toda-ha Bukō-ryū at Japan Women’s University…Please note that Yazawa, in her list of ryūha, only referred to naginatajutsu specialty schools, not such sogo-bujutsu schools, such as Masaki-ryū, Araki-ryū, Takenouchi-ryū or Kiraku-ryū, to name only a few that included both naginatajutsu and kusarigamajutsu within far more extensive curricula.

The only naginata schools, associated with feudal domains, that Yazawa sensei was able to find with still-living teachers were:

  • Shizuka-ryū (extinct)
  • Inoue-ryū (extinct)
  • Isshin-ryū (extinct – allegedly reconstructed)
  • Kyokushin-ryū (extinct)
  • Yoshino-ryū (extinct)
  • Gyokushin-ryū (extinct)
  • Ōshin-ryū  (AKA Anazawa-ryū) (unclear – several small groups claim to have valid lineal succession, but the claims are not clear)
  • Yaegaki-ryū (extinct)
  • Seni-ryū (reported to be reconstructed)
  • Masaki-ryū (still exists – this is actually a sogo-bujutsu that was associated with Seni-ryū)
  • Jozan-ryū (extinct)
  • Bukō-ryū (still exists)

[2] I viewed a film (made circa 1964) of fifteen naginatajutsu ryūha, among them Shizuka-ryū. Sakurada Tomi presented with her only student. The ryūha itself was magnificent. Sadly, Sakurada sensei found it necessary to make her successor hamon, and she died without a successor. Also, sadly, the 16mm film, a priceless record, may have been discarded by the organization that possessed it. I may have been the last person to have actually viewed it, the last record for a number of naginata schools that are now extinct.

[3] See Old School: Essays on Japanese Martial Traditions 2nd Revised, Expanded Edition page 142 They were tutored by the infamous revolutionary, Yui Shosetsu, who has otherwise been claimed (dubiously, in my view) within the lineage of Isshin-ryū kusarigamajutsu.

 [4] Hokkaido, the fourth island of the Japanese archipelago, was not really settled by Japanese until the late 19th century, and the indigenous Ainu, although they did have their own rudimentary combatives, did not practice martial ryūha.

[5] My instructor of Bukō-ryū, Nitta Suzuō, became headmistress of the school when her teacher, Kobabayashi Seiō, was felled by a stroke. Nitta sensei had never practiced the uketachi side of any of the kata, because she exclusively trained with her seniors (whom, nonetheless, she bypassed in becoming headmistress). From that day onwards, however, she had to enact the uketachi side of each of the thirty-six remaining kata in the school, which she did impeccably. I attribute this to a kind of osmosis, due to a level of intimacy that one establishes with one’s teacher within the stress of practice. In paying attention to everything she had to do, Nitta sensei had to also pay attention, subconsciously, to everything her own teacher was doing.

[6] NOTE: These kata were abandoned close to one hundred years ago. I reconstructed them based on documents within our school, under the supervision of my instructor, Nitta Suzuō, in the mid-1980’s. They are now part of our betsuden (‘separate curriculum,’ which also includes reconstructed kata for bojutsu and nagamakijutsu).

[7] 鎖鎌に就いて “Concerning the Kusarigama” – Yasawa Isaō – Toda-ha Bukō-ryū– Japan Women’s University

[8] Terry Dobson, my friend and former teacher of aikido recalled to me that during his residence in Japan, he trained, briefly, in a taekwondo school in Yokohama. The Korean residents of Japan were a beleaguered minority, suffering a lot of discrimination, even violence (it hasn’t ended yet), so their martial arts schools were very self-defense focused. Terry was allowed to train because this dojang was associated with the South Korean faction of residents in Japan, who perceived Americans as allies. In any event, they practiced with nunchaku made of steel pipes—one young man, doing a pass under his arm, hit himself in the temple and died. Dropped dead right in the dojang.

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1 Comment

  1. Fascinating article.

    Thanks.

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