Reflections of Kokichi EDO

The former champion, slight of stature, has not taken dan examinations beyond rokudan, nor competed in recent years. But he did not turn his back on the kendo world at all.

Through his scientific approach to training, Kanazawa University has achieved remarkable results among national universities. He represents the Student Kendo Federation as an alumnus with great confidence. He had raised critical questions in his work andactively addressed the requests from School-Related Organisations.

His incisive critiques stem from his ceaseless dedication to refining kendo rather than defending himself, serving as a testament to his unwavering focus.

Since Miyazaki's victory, the kendo world has shifted in a positive direction. Before, only large, powerful players won. Miyazaki, of average build, triumphs through technique, strategy and tactics — his hallmark is speed. He is a fast-attacking type who strikes at a fast tempo. I believe he retains his winning potential!

Yamashita Tadanori (Chūkyō University) also shows promise. Nabeyama Takahiro might have thrived over the last ten years, but Miyazaki's rise has altered the kendo world, and Nabeyama's timing now seems not to be good enough.

Powerful champions such as Yamada Hironobu, Nishikawa Kiyonori and Hayashi Akira were formidable, but there is still room for Miyazaki's kendo.

Nostalgia for 'the old days' grows with age, a nostalgia not confined to kendo. Kendo, which is rooted in swordsmanship, risks losing its essence now that swords have become obsolete, and there are certainly problems with this change, not merely nostalgia. While these changes pose challenges, sensei such as Edo sensei, who grew up after the war — especially those who are, or were, instructors at universities and elsewhere — are the ones who calmly grasp the flow of the times and the changes that come with it. Among them, Edo sensei is the one who always thinks about what specific improvements should be made, yet he honours tradition.

For example, Nihon Kendo Kata must be preserved as the cultural heritage. I think deeper research into its essence is fundamental.

Nowadays many kenshi mechanically repeat kata. We must clarify and learn: which school inspired ippon-me? Why jōdan? Why do we aim at kote in ippon-me? Why waki-gamae in yonhon-me? How do all of these relate to practical kendo?

I learned kata from Uekichi Satō sensei, the top disciple of Takano Saburō sensei, during his tenure at Chūkyō University. When I performed ippon-me, he would always snarl, 'Edo-kun, that is wrong.' No matter how many times I did it, he kept saying 'Wrong', keeping the explanation to himself. When sensei was about to retire, he finally told me, 'Edo-kun, I have no choice but to teach you.'

The explanation was simple enough: I stepped back too early. One must draw the opponent in, letting them step in completely without any chance to alter their movement, and only then respond, avoiding their attack. Simple, yet true kata.

Satō sensei would strike yokomen or thrust during nihon-me. He said that it had just so happened that we had agreed to strike kote, but in essence a yokomen strike or a thrust is equally valid. Kata performed under such circumstances and in such a spirit mirrors the pressure of real combat. It loses meaning without practicality. Five or six kata like this during a winter practice drench me entirely. People are often frightened when I perform kata, even with a bokutō.

Kendo's budo value lies in teaching rules, respect, empathy and the restraint of selfishness towards others from a young age, and is aimed at fostering growth step by step. Unlike purely recreational sports, where one can simply enjoy oneself, kendo is about the joy of spiritual cultivation and discipline, blending the fun of competing.

Overemphasising the spirit prematurely is counterproductive. To appreciate kendo's depth, one must fall in love with it first. Thus it is essential, especially for children, that budō knowledge and elements be layered gradually with maturity.

Today, advanced understanding is demanded too early! We need age-specific goals (youth, adult and senior), with feasible methods and judging criteria.

Competitors at the level where they can take part in the Meiji-mura tournament should achieve spiritual heights enabling self-judgement, so that they could simply bow (mairimashita) and say 'I give up', even without anyone to judge. Yet we fail. Hachidansha practitioners (hanshi) should humbly withdraw if their kendo falters.

The budō spirit extends beyond kendo: if people are serious about doing other sports, they will develop a budō-like way of thinking. Consider Nomura Katsuya, who, after winning first place in the Japan Series this year, did not get carried away but proclaimed that the game had become more serious. He said that to avoid being seen as arrogant. That is bushidō! Many embody this without practising kendo.

We must spread our wisdom and improve together, so that kendo's ideals are realised in action. Despite the principles of kendo, their implementation fails. A kenshi over 50 should be recognisable even without wearing bogu; I would like people to say, 'Oh, that person practises kendo. There's something different about them.'

My theory: 'Avoid sparring only with stronger opponents.' Training with slightly weaker partners builds confidence in landing strikes. I won often but occasionally lost, and analysing losses is what fuels growth. Constant defeat breeds discouragement.

I started kendo in my second year at junior high school, at a small dōjō with 100 members. For two months we drilled only okuri-ashi. Our sensei motivated us brilliantly. It was fun. When I struck him once, he exclaimed, 'Ah, you got me!' — igniting my passion.

This bred in me an ambition to improve. When I asked my sensei how to improve, he said, 'Do fumikomi and suburi.' I did suburi 1,000 times daily after practice until my graduation: about 600 standard suburi, and then 400 haya-suburi. Looking back, I think this was very effective. It also made sense in a physiological way.

The more matches I took part, the more I won, and the more absorbed in kendo I became. It was such fun that I could not quit. During my high school years, Maeda Haruo (Kokushikan University alumnus) excelled. We often practised sanbon shōbu together. Top schools always made sanbon shōbu training a priority.

My winnings delighted my seniors, my teachers and me. In addition, I began to train on my own more and more, inspired by other sports. It is true what they say: 'Passion breeds mastery'; without passion, one quits.

I always tell my students that mediocre test scores incur their parents' ire. The students who come to my school are gifted in science, so I presume that they are motivated to study because they were praised right up until high school. The same principle applies to kendo.

Kendo is not defined solely by wearing bogu.

Essentially, strength training boosts striking speed. Our tests showed that girls match boys if they hold shinai of a different size. Moreover, the girls' striking speed has increased as a result of their physical training. Boys must improve their speed capabilities further. It is hard to make boys understand the theory, though.

My curiosity about scientific problems was first ignited during my days as an assistant professor at Chūkyō University, when I saw a PE coach performing sawdust running and circuit training drills, which I adopted for myself. My breakthrough came after Mitsuhashi Hidezō, a colleague of mine at Chūkyō University, introduced me to Professor Matsui Hideji (now director of the Aichi Prefecture Sports Science Center). He signed me up for a weekly research group led by Professor Hoshikawa Tamotsu at Nagoya University. Exposure to researchers from other sports reshaped my perspective on kendo.

Nowadays I employ eye tracking to study dynamic vision, the better to understand where players look in order to anticipate whether a men or kote strike is coming. Another focus of mine is the quantitative analysis of a kenshi's movements, in order to determine their pros and cons. Ideally, I want to advance my research to the point where a single photograph will reveal flaws.

We tested a rapid attacking tempo in shiai. It proved to be a successful strategy for the men last year. The idea is to land quick attacks while the opponent idles. The opponent has to keep defending, allowing you to fight at your own pace. After a year or two of training, the results have borne this out.

However, success alone is not much proof. It is necessary to collect a great deal of data, so that, if a flaw is corrected, the systematisation is secured, and it can be better understood whether the correction came about through the student's own input or through his teacher's. A certain degree of correlation can emerge only from a great deal of data. Even if a sensei possesses knowledge, that knowledge dies with them; students are thus used as a tool to give it shape.

It is crucial how such results can be applied in practice. Otherwise, any future discussion is futile.

When I became a little older, I took part in a teachers' tournament, despite numerous strikes that the shimpan ignored. My disappointment at the poor judgement made me quit. Notwithstanding that I struck effectively in accordance with the conditions of yūkō datotsu, such as ki-ken-tai-itchi and hasuji tadashiku, they were judged according to a vague 'lack of dignity'. For instance, they called a series of kote-dō waza 'undignified'.

I struck exposed targets, highlighting their flaws to my opponents, which gave them something to reflect on.

Modern referees pay attention only to the actions of the one who lands a strike. They dismiss yūkō datotsu because of what they assume to be a poor technique. However, what about the opponent who failed to stop such a technique? They criticise Miyazaki for a lack of momentum, completely ignoring that his strikes land on the opponent. I think the ingenuity lies in preventing this approach.

Ignoring an ippon prevents the person who was struck from reflecting on his vulnerabilities, and can breed arrogance. Even at the All Japan Kendo Championships, shimpan must readily award ippon for strikes that meet all the criteria of yūkō datotsu.

I will never compete in a shiai judged by shimpan again. I know when there is a difference between winning and losing, so I do not think there is any need for shimpan. I believe this is the path leading to the budō ideal of spiritual discipline.

I approached my dan grades humbly. While at high school, I passed the sandan examination, though even then I did not think I had the proper ability for it. When I was taking the rokudan examination, I thought that, to pass, I should be ready for nanadan.

Lacking a higher dan grade has given me confidence that I am still good at kendo. I suppose Mitsuhashi Hidezō may have had some influence on me. Dan grades are a means of encouragement for amateurs, and as an expert I can seriously pursue kendo even without such focus. I am sure there is no need to take the examination ever again, because I have already achieved success.

On the other hand, since I lack a specific rank, I have to practise even more to gain recognition. If I think of myself as having the strength of a nanadan, I have to practise that much. Even now, when it comes to shōbu, I would not lose easily to opponents my age. Nowadays I improve my kendo by practising strikes on different targets, but that is fine by me. I want to go through that and reach my destination without forcing myself to change the way in which it is now.

I can describe all that is good about kendo with one word — omoiyari. Even if you are fighting a battle of skill with your opponent, he is not your enemy; you are fighting someone who shares the same love of kendo. The victorious one must feel compassion for the defeated. It is not enough to be satisfied with your sole win. One of the conditions of yūkō datotsu is zanshin. That is what zanshin means.

Kendo teaches you to read your opponent's thoughts, whether they are stepping back or trying to use waza. Notwithstanding the improvement in your skills, if you do not read your opponent, you will not be victorious. In my opinion, this approach can help you employ such a way of thinking beyond kendo. The good side of kendo is that it cultivates this kind of mindset.

Surely, you must keep training your mental state in order to win shiai. This understanding originates from budō. While teaching my students, I tend to say, 'You have to win.' This does not simply mean overcoming your opponent; it means that overcoming yourself comes first, which requires mental training.

I am absolutely sure that the Student Federation is kendo's future. Both personally and as a member, I shared my opinion with the All Japan Kendo Federation, and I believe that many improvements have already been made, and that it is about time to put them into practice.

There is a lot of energy among the Student Federation alumni. They express their opinions enthusiastically. During keiko or social gatherings, the only difference is East and West, but otherwise everyone is equal. Hachidan and kyūdan sensei are not allowed to sit in the kamiza. Even at referee seminars, nanadan Kawakami Minami is in charge of everything, while hachidansha always keep mumbling, 'Why aren't you wearing men?' I cannot afford to be so arrogant.

The Student Federation is currently planning a new tournament. We are considering new initiatives such as open participation and a nitō section, but rather than being run solely by students, we anticipate involving alumni for half of the tournament. It will take a year or two at least, since the Student Federation has just started.

I am proud that I have been thinking about kendo all the time. No matter how much you love kendo, there are always times when you hate it. I have felt that plenty of times. However, what would be left without kendo? Nothing. I was blessed with great teachers, and I am lucky enough not to have quit because of them. I want to share the same feeling with students, but sometimes I ought to act a bit more like a university professor. Sometimes I feel a little embarrassed when jogging with students, but I keep doing it nevertheless, while thinking about it not just as a kendo exercise, but rather as sharing the same spirit; so even if I am falling behind, I keep running…