Steel and STEM

At some point, most of us have wondered, either out loud or silently, whether what’s written in the kata manual could ever actually happen. Are these described scenarios grounded in any realistic combat encounter, or are they illustrative constructs meant to serve another purpose?

Take kata number 11, for example, do we really need to count that many enemies or chase one enemy with that many cuts? And in kata number 2, are we supposed to believe that someone behind you would just harbor bad intentions and do nothing more elaborate, and on top of that you will be able to tell all these happening behind your back?

To draw a parallel, imagine putting your clothes in the washing machine and returning later to find them not only clean, but perfectly folded. The probability is not zero, but realistically thinking, no one expects this outcome. It’s a useful analogy for how I feel about the scenarios described in the ZNKR Iaido manual. They’re not impossible, but they’re not likely either.

Now, to be clear, I wasn’t there in Edo-period Japan, and my Japanese isn’t anywhere near sufficient to dive into historical texts. I can just about pronounce what’s said in the dojo. But looking at how the ZNKR manual was compiled, and the time and context in which it was created, it’s quite evident to me that these descriptions are not direct reflections of real combat situations.

So What Are These Descriptions, Then?

Even though I strongly doubt the historical or practical realism of the kata scenarios, this doesn’t mean I dismiss the kata themselves. Quite the opposite. The movement sequences, i.e., the cuts, the changes in direction, the variations in grip, all of these are incredibly valuable. Even if no one today is going to fight off assailants from seiza, these structured sequences develop coordination, balance, timing, and effective sword control. The patterns aren’t arbitrary, instead they’re distilled lessons in applied movement.

What, then, is the role of the manual? I see it as a mnemonic and pedagogical tool. Nothing more, nothing less. It provides a narrative framework to support consistent, focused training. But if you were facing an actual adversary, especially one behind you, it’s unlikely they’d simply place a hand on your shoulder (as described in kata 4). A real threat would be more creative, for example a choke, a stab, a blow to the head. The kata, in that sense, are not combat blueprints, but they are structured drills cloaked in narrative.

Function Over Fiction

Understanding this distinction helps clarify the true purpose of practice. The kata offer principles, not prescriptions. For instance, learning to rotate and cut from seiza, or using the tsuka to strike before drawing and executing a kirioroshi, these are techniques that refine your swordsmanship. The “scenario” attached to them is just flavor, a kind of functional mythology.

The Real Question

So the real question becomes:

What am I supposed to be developing through each kata? What skills, attributes, and principles are encoded in each form? What is the training syllabus behind the storytelling?

I don’t know, but I will definitely try to find out.