One theme that arises in Japanese drama, be it film or anime, is a character dramatically cutting off her hair. This is signals some kind of dramatic, life-altering change.

The only reason this is an issue for women alone in modern drama is because, well, there’s no samurai anymore. Male samurai wore their hair in a famous “top knot” style that became emblematic of their status in society. If a samurai was to abandon his societal role, either to join the priesthood or to choose life as a peasant (for samurai were, in later times, forbidden to work the fields, and thus, could quite seriously starve if unemployed), such a man would cut off his top knot and undergo a dramatic decline in social status.

(Of course, lower social status was preferable to starvation for many!)

Even so, the Japanese woman has long been associated with long, meticulously kept hair, and vice versa. An expression holds, “A woman’s hair is her life.” This exaggerates, but only for the purpose of underlining the great importance given to hair as a symbol of womanhood. For instance, geisha have long, ornately worn hair.

Thus, a woman of high status cutting her hair, such as to disguise herself to escape villains after her life, is a dramatic, perhaps even desperate act. When done out of volition rather than grim necessity, it vividly represents one individual’s resolve to make a dramatic break with her own past: to divide time between “the old me” and “the me there is now”.

To this day, this remains a symbol of a dramatic break with the past. It retains its ancient power over the Japanese mind, and thus avoids easy pigeonholing as a mere cliche. In art, symbols matter, and powerful symbols, used well, create strong cinema.

I wrote this post out of curiosity at reading a forum thread on a certain website where one person knew the correct reading of a character cutting off her hair, and others did not, treating the correct view as one opinion among many. In this case, it’s a symbol everyone (in Japan!) is expected to know. For those who know Japanese, and for those who do not, cultural knowledge is an important part of watching Japanese drama. – J

The Japanese yari (槍、やり), or spear, was not originally a dominant weapon of war. My own research into this issue should not be thought of as authoritative, but this post contains my impressions on this fundamental weapon that became an essential component of the battles of the Sengoku Jidai (戦国時代), or Warring States Period.

So, no, the yari was not originally thought of as a weapon of choice by the samurai. Now, warfare became a nearly exclusive samurai affair for centuries, with exceptions such as the Sohei being mostly a sideshow. Samurai did use spears, but that was because swords were the easiest weapon to carry and an ideal last resort, with bows coming first. Spears were also used by non-samurai retainers of the elite and gave them a practical way to defend a man on a horse. Samurai would later come to favor the yari as highly suitable for mass combat.

In addition, the 14th century saw the rise of a new kind of warrior that made the yari its staple prior to the introduction of firearms, at which point the two would be used in tandem.

Yari in the Sengoku Jidai

I believe that the decisive reason for the shift to the yari is a matter of logistics more than technology. After all, the technology behind the yari cannot possibly have been new. Rather, warlords came to see the yari, used in packed formations, as superior to, and more decisive than, a bunch of samurai using swords (and this would be usually after their archery was no longer viable; think of samurai like multirole combat fighters in their day).

Now, it’s obvious why the forward thrusting spear is useful in tight formations; the Greeks and Romans established that long before the Swiss pikemen were thwarting cavalry across Europe. No, that is not the point. Why were packed formations an issue? As in, weren’t there packed formations before?

I’m thinking, no.

My speculation is that the evolving prosperity of Japan, which was now taking place in a highly distributed manner with the collapse of proper central authority, systematically placed more and more armed men under the banners of various warlords. In other words, warlords were able to feed and retain more samurai than ever before.

In addition, there was also the ashigaru (足軽、あしがる), literally light foot (light footmen). So, I believe that is why the issue came up; the bigger the battle, the more Japan’s constrained topography becomes an issue, and the simpler it is to smash a loose formation of swordsman with a tight formation of packed yari users.

And so a tactic was born.

In other words, it wasn’t an issue of cost… though I’m sure low cost did not escape the minds of yari advocates like Oda Nobunaga. However, it’s not the cost of a sword that’s the barrier here. It’s the cost of the man.

When that became less of an issue, yari use soared.

Now, ashigaru were not actually samurai. They first became established as what Europeans might call freebooters, and while I am no authority on this word, let us break it down for relevance: the “free” part, meaning you did not pay them salary; the “boot” part, meaning you did not assign a horse and they walked with the army; and “booty,” which was the only reward they would have for victory. At any rate, the more serious and less ritualistic the inter-clan rivalries became, the more ashigaru got involved. Yet these were part-timers who would go home to their farms and fields. After all, no salary – nor any retainer fee.

Later – and this is where my speculation about economics and social development comes in – warlords were actually retaining ashigaru like samurai, and in so doing, made them permanent warriors of a new, bottom basement class.

One might ask what then made them any different than samurai. Well, at this point samurai were a deeply entrenched permanent warrior class (but not caste). There was no desire to alienate them by treating ashigaru as their full equals. Thus, these militarized farmers became part of the increasingly heated and bitter wars of the age.

A Two-Handed Spear

Now, yari vary greatly, but the typical model used on the battlefield was absolutely meant to be wielded with two hands.

European spears had heavy shaft tapering so that the tip would not make the weapon very tip-heavy at all. For “spears” rather than pikes, this made one-handed use viable; one could even use spears with shields in Greek or Roman fashion. This , however, made blunt hits with the head of the spear a rather bad idea.

Yari include tapered shafts, but also include round shafts that are considerably beefier for swinging. Of course, this has the result of making the weapon tip-heavy, precisely what the Europeans were trying to avoid. Thus, this flexibility made the weapon harder to wield; not only was using two hands inevitable, but great skill would be required to be really good at it.

A Cavalry Staple As Well

It wasn’t just infantry. Samurai cavalry used yari for a rather simple reason: it had more reach than a sword. Yes, they could use bows too, but yari allowed shock tactics with European-like charges and were excellent first strike weapons against both infantry and cavalry.

Why first strike? Well, take the katana. Thought exercise; which is easier to carry as a secondary, spare weapon: a spear, or a sword?

Thought so.

High ranking nobles had their retainers who would have spare yari to use, but in a forward battle situation, a cavalryman was probably on his own with his spear, sword, and if all else fails, his tanto short sword (which, naming aside, was essentially a dagger).

Now, what happens when a cavalryman with a yari dismounts, either willingly or unwillingly? As professional warriors, samurai felt as if they would be er, forgive the pun, shafted (^^;) by a lack of skill if they did not take using the yari on foot at least as seriously as ashigaru peasants.

There are many reasons why a cavalryman might find himself on foot, just like European knights attempted it; human beings are smaller targets than horses, and horses can become living pincushions against archers in a pitiless age of war. So it wasn’t a theoretical situation.

As a result, schools of soujutsu (倉術、そうじゅつ) arose to take lessons learned from the brutal fields of combat and formalize instruction for future warriors, giving them a fighting chance. In general, the more one-on-one the situation, the more personal skill was a factor in survival rather than the overall battlefield situation.

For More Information

One place you may consider is this school of martial arts. As usual, I’m not linking to people I know and they owe no favors to me.

Some other time I’ll put images of specific kinds of yari up but, when I do, I can refer back to this post so people can have a primer on the basics. – J

What’s Wrong With Ritual?

In doing a little research on the history of the yari, the Japanese word for “spear,” I came across a mention that battles in early Japan, circa 700 A.D., were highly ritualized affairs with lone warriors dueling on horseback with bow and sword. So… what’s wrong with this, exactly?

I mean, we might casually write about it all these centuries later, but combat with a yuri (bow) and a tsurugi (pre-katana sword) were two very specialized areas. Combine that with doing it on horseback, and you have three skills that could take all of a young man’s life to master. Certainly they are not skills that can be mastered by non-professionals. Achieving and maintaining the physical and mental edge required was literally a full-time job.

Now, the real question that bears asking – and which is a rather obvious one to those who would demean cavalry, and the professional soldiery it demands, in any age and any context – is, were these just poseurs reducing battle to their own self-gratification, or did they actually fulfill some kind of useful military role?

This can only be answered by looking at how early Japanese cavalry fared when pitted, not against each other, but against everyone else.

The Yamato dynasty, from which Emperors throughout Japanese history are direct descendants of, began with the domination of the south of Japan’s main island (from which comes the very literal name of Honshu). Further expansion, especially eastward, was the result of violent confrontations with peoples who were not yet considered “Japanese.” Indeed, the first Shogun was the “General who Conquers the Eastern Barbarians,” thus directly expanding the nascent Japanese Empire.

Cavalry themselves, and the warhorses required for them, were introduced from Korea, but that was simply because Korea was closest; warhorses had been in general use in Eastern Asia since the days of the chariot (in Sun Tzu’s time) ended circa 500 B.C. Upon the adoption of war cavalry in Japan, aggressive Yamato expansion became feasible. While early cavalry were often refugees from Korea, i.e. losers in factional rivalries, it didn’t take long for Japanese clans to notice that they had a good thing going.

Thus did the idea of not just cavalry, but cavalry archers, spread to Japan; such ideas had been around since at least the era of the Three Kingdoms in China, circa 200 A.D.

While Japanese national mythology cites the exploits of particular members of the Imperial family as the driving force behind expansion, we should not feel any hesitation to view this as a broad-brush retelling of the story. In military history, it’s usually a dominant technology that leads to spectacular change.

So, judging purely by results, early Japanese cavalry did quite well against non-cavalry in a broad, big picture sense.

Easier Said Than Done

Now, this is not to say that the typical tactic of a mounted archer is to fire on the move. Granted, Mongols did this, but Mongols had the advantage of a nifty and very conveniently sized compound bow. The Japanese had long bows which weren’t trusted against samurai armor until their stated optimal range of 30 feet. (10 meters)

So, the simplest tactic would be to use cavalry as mobile artillery.

In other words, use a horse to get to a specific location; stop; fire to your heart’s content; move to a new location; fire; repeat.

If not countered, you can do this until you run out of ammo… or targets. One of the two.

Obviously, the other side having bows would mean they can return fire. However, infantry are in a pretty hard spot.

If infantry charge you in mass, you can simply retreat with ease and fire more arrows. If infantry charge you individually, you can – provided the training and cohesion is there – break your own unit apart, run around, make the infantry chase you, double back, and then trample/ skewer/ sword slice at will. Infantry faced with this will tend to rout; as in, turn their backs to you to become particularly easy prey.

Archers are more of a problem, obviously, but having swords as back-up weapons means that, given an opening, a group of mounted archers can do a group sword charge against foot archers, leading to spectacular result.

(Image from http://theminiaturespage.com/boards/msg.mv?id=201846 )

So, while a very specialized skill set and requiring the proper equipment (including the horse!), a mounted archer had a tactic for every typical situation. What he really had to worry about, if the situation arose, was fighting others like himself.

This is why, when Japanese forces fought each other, combat was highly ritualized. After all, they didn’t want everything to become a mixed infantry/ cavalry mess; they wanted everyone to see their displays of chivalric skills and duels for fame and fortune. If it was done any other way, it’d just become an issue of brute killing.

Not that they couldn’t resort to brute killing! But they preferred to save that for the “barbarians.”

A More Civilized Age?

It’s pretty hard for most relatively young people to forget their first experience with a movie light saber: “A weapon from a more civilized age.”

A lot of people really frown on ritualized combat because they consider it heresy against the serious business of bloody slaughter by citizen armies, where everyone has the right to vote so everyone’s obligated to kill the other army’s citizens. But how is that better?

Ritualized duels, between sides that have the minimum amount of cultural respect for each other required to support them, aren’t about sport per se, but rather, about the more fundamental word of competition.

As far as personal worth goes, there’s a big and fundamental difference between strength and power. As a practical matter, we see this mostly in something like anime, but having power doesn’t mean you’re stronger. Just because you have the magic sword doesn’t mean you’re the better swordsman, though it may mean the difference between winning and living, or losing and dying (or seeing your friends and loved ones die). So, power is important, but it won’t resolve the issue of who’s stronger or, in a competition sense, who is better.

For that, we need to have some kind of minimally fair setting for a duel.

Riding out to duel one’s opponent in front of massed mounted cavalry means:

a) The audience is composed of the people whose opinions matter to you.

b) Both combatants have powerful incentives to not turn chicken and run.

c) No one needs a TV if you’re all there in person.

If what you’re deciding isn’t the fate of the empire, but who has the territorial and otherwise bragging rights in a clan-based feud, why not settle your fights this way?

I know people cling to a fantasy of having the old men that start wars duke it out with pistols in a locked room, but old men really aren’t the ones to be doing that. History provides a long precedent for the use of champions to represent one’s cause. Think of these as the Jedi of ancient Japan. Why not get these people to settle the issue? How much pure death and destruction is saved by doing this rather than have the matter be decided by Stormtroopers or Clonetroopers or Droid armies or their equivalents of the day?

But no, a lot of people wouldn’t be happy if there wasn’t grand slaughter to ennoble warfare. Because that proves how civilized we are.

Send in the droids, I guess! Er, I mean infantry…

Following the Genpei War (the subject of The Tale of Genji), which gave rise to the Bafuku (government said to be run out of a general’s tent rather than a palace), the Imperial line was subject to intense internal squabbles.

I’m sure these links will provide great reading to those interested, so please, give the writer some love.

My point in bringing attention to these events is to make plain that the decline of the Emperors’ grip on direct power did not continue by some kind of accident. As summarized in my Concise History of the Samurai, the samurai became influential as central power decayed. Power struggles within the Imperial family did nothing to discourage the notion that the writ of the sword and bow meant a lot more in the here and now, regardless of history or lip service.

After all, when you try to get the attention of “the Emperor,” who are you getting? The actual Emperor? The regent? Is there only one regent? The Emperor’s mother, who is the real power behind the throne (or thinks she is)? Who constitutes “the Emperor” for the purposes of real power?

When it’s like that, with competing factions having allies and enemies strewn across the entire country, it’s easier to understand why loyalty to one’s lord and constant readiness to engage in armed conflict were highly prized features among samurai retainers.

I tried pushing this thing in preview form a while back. I’d rather give it away for free than have no one look through the whole thing. It’s about Japan, swords, samurai, art, culture… and more swords.

Essentially, if I want to talk about swords in the future, I’ll point people here.

If nothing else, take a look at the pretty pictures I gathered.

真宮寺さくら

In Japanese, the family name is said first. Also, while romanized as Shinguji, a word processor would want “shinguuji.”

Sakura means cherry blossom (though it can also refer to the cherry tree). Shinguji here uses kanji at variance with the usual kanji used for this name; Shinguji is a real Japanese last name, but not in this form. These kanji mean true + shrine + temple. Since the Meiji Restoration, Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples have been set more cleanly apart than in the past.

The meaning of the name is thus, at once, the beauty of a cherry blossom and a repository of true Japanese cultural values.

And so it is.

A Video Game & Anime Heroine

Sakura Shinguji is the heroine at the heart of the Sakura Wars (“Sakura Taisen,” or サクラ大戦) franchise from game publisher and one-time console manufacturer Sega. The game series is not so much named after her as taking the theme of young, beautiful women battling against the forces of darkness.

At first, the series takes place in Tokyo. The era is the 1920’s. Although modified along the lines of so-called steampunk, that is, imaginary steam-based machines (powered, per se, by the spiritual power, or reiryoku (霊力), of the pilots where the members of the Flower Team (hanagumi, 花組) are concerned.

Raised in Sendai, Sakura is the daughter of a master swordsman who fought demons to protect the Empire years ago and paid with his life. A former comrade of his, now a rather old lieutenant general named Yoneda, calls upon her to join the Imperial Flower Assault Force (my translation – J), usually translated simply as Imperial Assault Force. (Japanese: Teikoku Kageki Dan (帝国華撃団), of which the middle kanji can mean “flower” or “petal.”)

This force is based out of Ginza in the Grand Imperial Theater, with the troupe of all-female stars of the stage under a name that is pronounced the same way, but with kanji making it out to be an opera troupe only. Thus, it is a secret organization devoted to defense of the Empire, but with recruits from around the world.

Old Cultural Values In A New World

In the first game, and at the start of the related manga and anime plots, Sakura is an optimistic, 19 year old girl who is getting her first brush with the modern world. Compared to mid-1920’s rural Sendai, Tokyo is a shockingly huge and busy place; even trains, steam-based automobiles (since this is steampunk), and the crush of people, are all overwhelming. To Sakura, this is a world of wonder, something to be embraced rather than feared.

While Sakura has dreams of starring on the big stage herself, she is rather clumsy, both figuratively and literally. This is not because of a lack of physical aptitude, but rather, failures of concentration; it’s such a new world, she’s still lost in it.

Sakura is earnest and sincere, though she has a mischievous sense of humor. She is a strong believer in teamwork and helping people and is, therefore, quite idealistic. However, she has a strong will that manifests itself at times of crisis, standing up for her friends, her country, and her own love and admiration for recently anointed team leader Ensign Ichiro Ogami.

Budding Mistress of the Sword

Aside from her strong taste in kimono (clothing), which is in the wafuku (“Japanese clothing”) style, she inherits the Hokushin Itto Ryu sword style from her father, Kazuma Shinguji. (“Itto” would be for 一刀 or “single blade.” Miyamoto Musashi’s legendary two-sworded style was known as “nito ryu.” I am using normal romanizations here. – J)

Sakura also inherits a great amount of inner spiritual power, combining to make her a devastating opponent. Even having barely set foot in Tokyo, she briefly made the newspapers (without her identity being revealed) by taking down one of the sorcery-powered humanoid machines of the evil force Kuro no Sukai when one entered a park and menaced civilians there. She took this opponent down in the flesh, with only herself and her katana, the named, spirit sword Arataka (“Wild Falcon.”)

Thus, aside from being very easy on the eyes, she has practical combat power worthy of a main heroine in her own video game/ manga/ anime.

Sakura as Cinderella.

Dreams Of The Stage

Sakura is also an immense fan of not only opera and theater in general, but romantic plays such as Cinderella. Indeed, Sakura is often trying to practice the lines in Cinderella to truly perform well as the character.

Aside from teaching cultural values and to be more than a secret military outfit, this is training in discipline, concentration, footwork, and coolness under pressure. Of course, being new on the stage, Sakura sometimes has… let us say, incidents, that create some friction with other members of the troupe/ team at times.

They’re all part of her enduring charm.

A Cultural Icon

While the heyday of the Sakura Wars franchise has passed us by, Sakura Shinguji is an instantly recognizable cultural icon who seems to embody all of the best of old Japanese cultural values in a beautiful, approachable, kind, gentle, and very human vessel. She presents not only a femininity that is innately appealing to the male spirit, but is an outstanding swordswoman (post-Meiji, we cannot call her samurai but this is simply a technicality) whose faith, devotion, and fierce spirit make her a dependable ally and teammate.

You can learn a lot about Japanese cultural values just by looking at her a little. This is why I have helpfully provided several images… for cultural education, of course. Yes, for educational purposes. What else could they be for…

Trivia

• Loves pretty much anything romantic.
• Frightened by lightning (traumatic childhood experience).
• Electricity is fine, though.
• Panics at the mere sight of a mouse.

Setting The Record Straight

I don’t want to link to this because it’ll only draw attention to leaky history but, in my efforts to find sites worth linking this blog to, I began reading a ‘history of Japan’ that floated the idea that Bushido was a key cultural factor driving Japan into WWII.

This is a bit much.

Bushido: Raised From The Dead

By the time the Meiji Restoration regime started citing Bushido as an inspiration for its uniformed soldiers, the samurai, as a class, had been safely extinguished. No one went around Japan wearing two swords; it was one, military sword, and then only for commissioned and non-commissioned officers in the modern, West-inspired military. In other words, Bushido had been raised from the dead in defense of nationalism by the very people who had slain it.

If you’ve read my Concise Samurai History eBook posted below, you are already aware that samurai had not directly served emperors in force for about one thousand years prior to the Meiji Restoration. Bushido was, at its core, a feudal principle: loyalty and fidelity to one’s immediate lord. Every samurai paid lip service to the emperors said to be directly descended from the gods, but samurai only followed the commands of their leaders: shoguns, daimyo, clan leaders, and immediate commanding officers. In other words, they obeyed those who paid them (in rice, so this is really to say, those who fed them). Emperors had lost the clout to pay/ feed samurai long before, so this lip service was as good as it was going to get.

It is not this Bushido that Japan revived in the lead-up to the Russo-Japanese war, and later, in the lead-up to WWII. It is another, citing the name of Bushido, and invoking its spirit, because that spirit retained power in the popular mind. Once it was safely dead, a seance was held to call the spirit back and apply it to traditional Western propaganda, just with a native Japanese twist.

I mean, really, where do you think Japan learned about nationalism, patriotism, mass media propaganda, and so forth? Why, from us in the West, of course! Don’t think that the young officers Japan sent to Western nations were just taking note of technology. They were also analyzing what fed into the morale of the foot soldier: national esprit, talk of the blood of martyrs (example: Remember The Alamo!!), rigorous organization, conscription, codes of military law enforced to create and maintain discipline, and so forth.

Bushido: Convenient Tool of a Modern Army

So, it is the idea of Bushido that was being invoked, not Bushido itself. Fighting for the Emperor hadn’t been in style for a thousand years, after all; they wanted to make it cool again, if you will.

Ultimately, if Bushido had not existed, the Meiji government would have invented it, just like it invented many other things. Bushido was used – once it had been rendered harmless to Japan’s new regime, anyway – because it was there.

That is all.

Takeda Shingen (武田信玄)

1521-1573

Dubbed “The Tiger of Kai” (Kai Province), Takeda Shingen was a legendary military strategist during the Sengoku Jidai (戦国時代), the Civil War Period of Japan that lasted for a century.

Born as the eldest son of a clan boasting descent from the legendary Minamoto clan, he studied Buddhism and received lesser ordination in 1559. “Shingen” was the name given to him by his Buddhist master, and by this name, he would be known throughout Japan.

The Sengoku Jidai was a vicious age where son struggled against father. In Shingen’s case, he not only struggled; at the age of 21, he overthrew his father, Takeda Nobutora, in a bloodless coup. This was said to preempt his father’s making the second son heir instead of Shingen. Nobutora was forced into retirement on the southern border of Kai province under the watchful eye of the Imagawa clan, which had assisted in the coup, and with which Shingen formed a formal alliance.

Shingen launched a campaign of regional expansion, carving out victories against the Murakami clan of Shinano province despite a loss at Uetahara where he lost two of his own generals. Pushed out of Shinano, the Murakami placed themselves at the mercy of the lord of Echigo, who underwent several name changes during his own Buddhist studies, becoming known to history as Uesugi Kenshin, “The Dragon of Echigo,” who would become Shingen’s celebrated rival.

Even amidst a nation in a near constant state of conflict, this feud would prove to be a long series of chess matches between two remarkable military strategists. A series of five battles, fought over a course of eleven years, occurred at the same location: Kawanakajima, a plain at the northern end of Shinano, forming the south of modern-day Nagano. Neither strategist placed all his eggs in one basket, constantly seeking a decisive opportunity to attack while denying the opponent a similar opportunity.

During the fourth battle, a miscommunication was said to have caused Shingen’s bodyguards to have separated from him, allowing Kenshin an opportunity to personally decapitate his opponent (figuratively and literally). Charging on horseback, Kenshin personally attacked Shingen – sitting on a commander’s chair with his war fan, a traditional signalling device for leaders – with his own sword. Shingen used his own war fan (reinforced with metal) to parry the blow. Soon after, Shingen’s bodyguard caught up and, despite a sharp engagement, both Shingen and Kenshin lived to fight another day.

In 1560, Shingen’s ally Imagawa Yoshimoto died in a shocking reversal of fortune against Oda Nobunaga, a fearsome young warlord whose name would be engraved on the wooden block of Japanese history. Shingen moved to seize lands from Yoshimoto’s son while successfully fending off Uesugi Kenshin. During this time, Shingen also oversaw the damming of the Fuji river, one of the main acts of civil engineering of the era.

Fending off an attempt to interfere with his expansion by the Hojo clan, Shingen gained firm control of the lands he had targeted by 1569.

By this time, the rise of Oda Nobunaga had been great indeed, and Shingen was one of the few warlords with the power to challenge the Oda-Tokugawa alliance that was threatening to take over the entirety of Japan. Shingen invaded his enemies’ territory in 1572, but perished while at camp during the campaign. The exact cause has been lost to history and swamped by speculation. Some say he died of an old war wound; some say a sniper shot him; others still say he died of pneumonia.

The Tiger of Kai died at the age of 49, leaving a legend that would long outlive him.

In honor of his longtime foe, Uesugi Kenshin ordered a period of mourning for three days, and refused all entreaties to launch an attack to exploit the situation.

Shingen the Strategist

The motto of Takeda Shingen was 風林火山, read as “fuurin kazan” using the “on-yomi” (phonetic readings) of the kanji. This stood for:

Swift as the wind

Silent as the forest

Fierce as the flame

Sturdy as the mountain

(These are my own translations. – Jeremiah)

These principles are drawn directly from Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War,” which is a difficult text for many to study. (I have written a book called Sun Tzu for the Modern Strategist which tries to make the book much easier to understand for modern readers, but I have not been able to market it very well with so much time taken up with my tutoring. – Jeremiah)

Kai Province boasted arguably the finest cavalry of Japan. Shingen used this cavalry in accordance with these principles, seeking to move swiftly, to conceal his movements until the decisive moment, attack the opponent’s weak point with decisive force, and, when compelled to defend himself, to be as difficult to dislodge as a mountain.

Truly, to call him the Tiger of Kai was no empty compliment.