Decoding Armored Combat - the NHK Way

I try not to spend too much time scrolling through online feeds, but like most of us, I suspect, I often find myself doing it more than I would like, especially these days, when the the news seems to propel us from one disaster to the next. Sometimes, however, something a bit more interesting crops up. 

In this case, it was courtesy of NHK World, and was a combination of a broadcast TV programme (for the domestic Japanese audience) and a section with a foreign panel, two of whom, Alexander Bennett and Christopher Glenn, know their stuff with regards to Japanese martial arts and armour (Akino Roza, the other panelist, has more general cultural knowledge). At about 30 minutes, the programme is a reasonable length to make it worth watching, and I think there is something in there for the lay person and enthusiast alike. I have been around Japanese martial arts for a good number of years, but I certainly got something out of it.

https://www3.nhk.or.jp/nhkworld/en/shows/5001439/?cid=wohk-fb-org_vod_5001439_dps-202502-001

I am putting the link here, but it will only be available till September 2025, which seems like a long way off now, but for anyone reading after that date, I’m going to describe some of the parts I found more interesting below.

The action begins sometime around the three minute mark, with a demonstration of how spears were used in military formations. Although I have seen some people bitterly protest about the use of spears as, basically, striking weapons which would be raised and then used to strike from above rather than as pointy sticks, the weight of informed opinion seems to be that this was common practice during the Sengoku period (when spears became one of the principal weapons on the battlefield. Indeed, you can well believe that training men to use the spear this way would have been very time efficient.

Anyway, there is a demonstration of the power this technique can produce (yes, we all know boards don’t fight back, but illustrative, all the same). The higher level version of this is also interesting – the use of the flex of the spear shaft is not usually shown in Japanese systems, whereas it is a common feature (sometimes unrealistically so) in Chinese systems, both for usage and also training purposes. I have some experience of Japanese spears, and the shafts certainly do have a certain amount of flexibility – the one used in this demonstration was quite long, and I think that length is certainly an important consideration for this kind of technique. Many Japanese spearheads have a triangular cross-section, which makes them especially suitable for this bludgeoning type of attack. Other types would most likely have been used differently.

Any way, you can see the flex here:

A couple of other points that were interesting were presented in the discussion of foreign the foreign panel. In particular, I found the point about the overlap of armour particularly interesting – the cuirass wrapped around the body with the back overlapping the front on one side. This seems counter-intuitive: a spear thrust might get caught rather than glancing off, for example (although that in itself could be further examined). However, an overlap to the back would also provide a grip for an opponent if they came into grappling range, something you certainly wouldn’t want.

A cuirass showing the overlap coming from behind.

Moving on, there is also a section on using weapons on horseback, and you get to see the stubby Japanese ponies that were common in those days. There is also a section on Shosho Ryu Yawarajutsu – an early type of jujutsu. This is interesting as preserving aspects that involved fighting an armoured opponent. Many Japanese schools preserve this aspect to a greater or smaller degree – there are several interesting videos online showing techniques from Tenshin Shoden Katori Ryu that many people are probably familiar with – so this may not be new to you, but it is quite interesting all the same. 

An illustration by Oscar Ratti from his well-known book. The illustrations were an important part of the book and certainly added colour and atmosphere, despite certain artistic liberties. Of course, something like this is pure fantasy ... or maybe not?

As well as younger, more mobile members of his dojo, the 87 year old headmaster of the style demonstrates some of the techniques, including kicking someone wearing armour, which is worth seeing.

A well- produced documentary with something for everyone – at least, those who are interested in those kinds of things!  

Duel in the Snow - The Sword of Doom

The snow yesterday (not so common these days, and comparatively light compared to much of the rest of the country) reminded me of this classic scene from the film, The Sword of Doom, one of the several versions of the multi-volume novel by Nakazato Kaizan, Daibosatsu Toge – Great Buddha Pass, but arguably the best. (The others do have their good points, though). 

 

The sword master, Shimada Toranosuke, played here by Toshiro Mifune, (I have written his name the English way, but all the other names here are written surname first) is attacked mistakenly on his way back from a friend’s house. The attackers realise they have the wrong man, but make the mistake of pressing on with the attack regardless. This may be one of Mifune’s best appearances as a swordmaster (admittedly, the role is quite minor) but he plays it to perfection. 

You can watch the clip here:  https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x3ev4e0

Mifune was a great actor, and he knew how to look the part, but if you want to see someone who actually knew how to use a sword, the same role was taken in two earlier versions of the same story (Sword in the Moonlight was the English title, I believe) by the veteran actor Tsukigata Ryunosuke (see the photos below), who had trained in a branch of the Shinkage Ryu, – the Jikishinkage Ryu was Shimada’s own school.

 

Although the main character of this story, Tsukue Ryunosuke, was fictional, Shimada Toranosuke was not. He was one of the strongest swordsmen of his day, and his lines about the connection between the sword and the mind are famous today in kendo dojo: 

The sword is the mind; 

If the mind is correct, the sword will be correct. 

If the mind is not correct, the sword will not be correct. 

He who would study the sword must first study the mind. 

Mind – kokoro – while basically meaning ‘way of thinking’ also has connotations of attitude and an almost moral dimension, as indeed, is made clear by his final comment in this film clip: “a sword which is not correct is an evil sword.” This, of course, refers to the swordsman.

As well as his skills with the sword Shimada was known for his upright character. It is perhaps worth noting that the original target of the assassination in this scene was Kiyokawa Hachiro, who often gets short shrift from Shinsengumi fans but was known as a Confucian scholar as well as a swordsman and is considered by some to have suffered from bad press), and his companion for part of the journey (in a different palanquin) is the famous spearman Takahashi Deishu – also known for his extremely virtuous character and his skill with the spear – the two were, in fact, friends, and Kiyokawa was later assassinated after leaving Deishu’s house. 

The leader of the assassins in this scene is Hijikata Toshizo, one of the more well-known and popular members of the Shinsengumi, and it is interesting how easily he is handled by Shimada, despite his reputation as ‘Demon Hijikata’. 

 

Nakazato Kaizan was himself a man of some principle, refusing to join the pro-military writers’ group, Nihon Bungaku Hokoku-kai, during the war, and casting the Shinsengumi in an unflattering light is telling. Mind you, with a ‘hero’ like Tsukue Ryunosuke, you can tell there are going to be more than a few moral grey areas.

For interests sake, here is a (very) short excerpt from the novel just before Shimada is attacked in his palanquin. I hope it gives something of the flavour of Nakazato’s writing:

A swordmaster of the highest level naturally has powers far beyond the ordinary. On the way, Shimada Toranosuke felt a sudden suspicious presence, and though he had not expected that the Shinchogumi would send such elite troops, he readied for an attack, leaning against the back of the palanquin in preparation for a sword thrust to the space in front of him (where a passenger would normally sit). 

By the time Hijikata called out to wait, he had already tied back his sleeves and dampened the mekugi of his beloved sword, forged by Saburo Shizu. When the attack came, he drew and cut with a single slash from under the sword that had pierced the empty space he had left, severing the leg of one of the black-clad swordsmen who had been waiting, and shot out.

Unfortunately, there’s not an awful lot of information on Shimada in English, although anyone who has played the fairly recent game Rise of the Ronin will probably be familiar with him (and all the others mentioned above). 

Alas, games are not one of the things I have time for these days, but I must admit I learnt a lot from them way back when – of course, it was all pen and paper in those days.

After the Dragon: Enter the Snake - Japanese New Year 2025

 

So an old year leaves and a new one comes around. And in Japan that means the start of a new animal year according to the Chinese zodiac (yes, from January 1st, which might not be quite in line with the Chinese world, but is a tradition that has been going for the last 150 years or so). This year, 2025, is the Year of the Snake.

In Japan, like many other cultures, snakes tend not to be popular animals, but they command a sense of respect as well as fear – they can be divine messengers, as well as representing the dangerous and uncontrollable forces of nature. Their physical nature - the ability to shed their skin, their poisonous bite point towards other symbolic aspects such as renewal on the positive side, and malice on the not so positive.

Alas for this blog, there seems to be little overt connection to traditional martial arts in Japan –not the case in China, for example, where snakes and snake style movement feature in a number of styles. There is certainly a tradition of respect - snakes were revered at certain shrines, avoided when traveling in the mountains (although there seems generally to have been a prohibition against killing them) and even today you may still hear the old wisdom that one is not supposed to whistle at night for fear of attracting them. Snakes were not, however, common motifs for samurai or thematically embodied in their traditions.

As one of the animals of the Chinese zodiac, snakes do crop up in art, although they are not as common as many other animals. The white snakes used for many New Year decorations are auspicious - sometime divine messengers, they are often associated with the goddess Benzaiten. Nowadays, they are often depicted curled up, and here incorporating the mochi rice cakes that are often used as New Year decorations, looking cute but not particularly snakey. In the past, artists felt more comfortable with a more naturalistic representation, as you can see from the painting at the top of the page by Hokusai.

On the other hand, there is quite a selection of giant snakes (known as uwabami) to be found in ukiyo-e prints, as sinuous as you could hope for, usually locked in battle with a variety of brave heroes. Here is one such uwabami pre-encounter, once again by Hokusai.

 One of these, Heita Tanenaga, a real life 13th century samurai, seems to have made something of a career taking on these monster snakes, with tales telling of at least five different encounters. Utagawa Kuniyoshi’s dynamic style was well-suited to depicting such encounters, and strongly influenced other artists in their approach.

 but Hokusai who could turn his brush towards almost anything, was clearly not to be outdone.

I have seen such tussles explained as (a subconscious depiction of) the struggle of the upper and lower selves, the earthly and divine sides of our natures, and it’s easy to see where the snake fits in here. It seems nicely ‘symbolic’, but I wouldn’t necessarily dismiss it completely as there is something deeply attractive about such themes, something that you might be expected to grow out of (like superhero movies) but which many people do not.

Speaking of esoterica, snakes were also popularly associated with magic and the dark side of spirituality in novels and theatre in the Edo Period, and you can see these in prints as well. Here is Kidomaru engaged in his esoteric arts. 

Interestingly, some schools of bujutsu also incorporated aspects of these arts (and still do to some extent). Of these, perhaps the best known is Tenshin Shinden Katori Shinto Ryu; there are others. Some regard esoteric training as psychology, whereas others see the training as having a somewhat different flavour, enabling access to something beyond the merely human. The Japanese tend not to like categorically falling in one camp or another on many issues, but I have found that the world of spirits is one that is not dismissed lightly here. You may feel a little reassured to reflect that the swordsmen in the stories were not outmatched by sorcery – the strength of spirit from their training was a match for their opponents.

An unusual painting - I'm not sure just where it's from - it looks
like a picture scroll involving the zodiac animals up to more of their zany antics.

 

I’ll leave you with another rather unusual painting, once again by Hokusai, of a snake and dragon, painted as a lantern. If I recall correctly, it was painted for a business, in Fukugawa in Edo. This area was also known as Tatsumi, which meant south-east, as the area lay in the south east of the city. It is also a play on the place name, as ‘tatsu’ means dragon, and ‘mi’ is an alternative pronunciation for the word snake.

Happy New Year 2025!

The military rake in times of peace – from the battlefield to civilian protection – part 2

 

A real antique kumade - this one was more than  260cm long

We looked at the military rake (kumade) last month, so now it’s time to see how it fared after the long centuries of war came to an end. Perhaps it was its utility that doomed it in the field of war – It didn’t have much mystique or status as a weapon, did not seem particularly attached to any social or military group (unlike the masakari or long handled axe, for example, which was long associated with yamabushi), and without anywhere to realise its use as a weapon, people forgot how useful it could be, and little more is seen or heard of it…as such. 

A modern day yamabushi with a masakari

 

(image courtesy of Trip Advisor)

 

While it doesn’t seem that the kumade made the transition as a weapon into the relatively peaceful Edo period, several weapons were used in civil defense/law enforcement that involved entangling and immobilizing an opponent. These were the triad of sasumata, sodegarami and tsukubo (there are several alternative names, but these are the most common – the fork, the sleeve entangler and the push pole. Matsura Seizan, for example, calls them the sasumata, hineri and shumoku). They were categorized as implements or tools rather than weapons, but their array of short spikes, partly to deter grabbing, would have been capable of causing significant damage, as well as helping to catch and entangle clothing. If you get the chance to see them close up, there is no doubt that you wouldn’t want the business end of any of them near you. 

sasumata

sodegarami

tsukubo

In their use, they could very well have replicated the hooking functions of the rake, and perhaps they were more suitable for use against unarmoured opponents. There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of techniques for these implements that have been passed down, though there are several videos online of people using them in more or less plausible ways. 

I would think that anyone reasonably well-versed in the use of pole arms (and jujutsu, perhaps, given their use for restraint) could come up with similar techniques. 

These were not the only tools used to subdue unruly lawbreakers. Anyone who has seen the classic film, Daisatsujin Orochi, starring Ichikawa Raizo, will surely remember the scene where the lone swordsman is confronted by a crowd of constables who attempt to capture him using ropes, doors two-wheeled wooden wagons and ladders (as well was some of the more usual implements just visible in the bottom of the frame below. (This is well worth watching in any case – one of my favourite Japanese movies. it's English title is The Betrayal).

A still from Daisatsujin Orochi - the hero is in the centre - note the the tsukubo and sasumata at the bottom of the frame.

A slightly less conventional law enforcement tool

Though this approach may seem to be a relic of the past, a modern iteration of the sasumata is still a common piece of equipment in schools (and police stations) in Japan (and also in China apparently – I saw one in evidence in a news report about one of the recent mass stabbing incidents) and has occasionally been deployed successfully. It offers the ability to hold off a knife wielding attacker while remaining at a safe distance. Techniques have been designed to give it more flexibility in use, and it looks as if it could, indeed, be quite effective, especially if it is part of a coordinated effort involving several people. An ideal version is depicted in the picture below. 

 

Teachers training with sasumata

 Here is a link to a video showing training in a supermarket:

https://youtu.be/WtdCxgmqDI4

Note the use of supermarket trolleys, too!

However, as always, the reality of an attack is likely to be quite different from practice. It would require a cool head to use it well against a knife wielding assailant, and, perhaps because of its success in being sold as such a practical response to a knife attack, there has been some criticism of its effectiveness. These criticisms stress the relative ease with which the knife wielder could catch hold of the head, either to twist it around so they can get past, or, by grabbing both prongs, take control of it. (As someone holding the two prongs has a mechanical advantage over someone just holding the shaft, this is quite possible.) The lack of spikes in the centre of the ‘u’ section, a feature in some ‘samurai period’ sasumata also means that there is nothing to stop the aggressor pushing back directly against the force of the defender, possibly forcing the defender to drop the sasumata or risk being cut. 

I like pole weapons but space limitations in Japan means I haven’t had the chance to practice with them as often as I would like. The modern sasumata certainly seems like something it would be fun to play around with.

On a final note, although the sasumata is designed to immobilize an attacker, that is not the only way of using it. The video below shows the owner of a jewelers shop in Tokyo using it successfully as a club in the most basic of ways – and it worked.

https://youtu.be/q1vwgwi-k9Y?si=9_Xv-ugJsCjvXLz9

The rake’s progress - from the battlefield to modern-day civilian protection - part 1

From the Scroll of the Mongol Invasion (Mōko Shūrai Ekotoba) - a fine example of a kumade in the centre.

Today, seeing the leaves beginning to turn to the gold of autumn, I was reminded of that perennial garden chore, raking leaves. It made me think of a reference I came across regarding a certain Matsuda Hidenobu, a warrior of some note who fought at the battle of Sekigahara (1600) during which he is reported to have used a long weapon called a kumade (literally ‘bear’s claw’) to bring down 11 mounted opponents whom his followers then dispatched. What had caught my eye was that the weapon he was depicted with was a large leaf rake (see below).

Chicken or egg? One of these is clearly derived from the other, but they both have poor old Matsuda using a leaf rake.

While it is true that the same word, kumade, is used for a modern leaf rake, this is very far from the weapon that Matsuda Hidenobu must have used.

The word ‘battlefield’ is often bandied about with regard to traditional martial arts – some of them really were created for or used on battlefields; others are more likely to have developed for civilian self-protection in what were very violent times. Some were probably meant as a kind of training to imbue discipline and other virtues in a suitable cultural package. Many are hybrids, adapting and developing military techniques for other purposes. But early examples of the use of the kumade can, indeed, be located on battlefields in early medieval Japan. 

This can be seen in artwork such as the Kasuga Gongen E-Maki (early 14th century - see above) and in the well known Scroll of the Mongol Invasion (13th century), and several instances appear in war chronicles, both on land and at sea. Set at an earlier date than both the aforementioned scrolls, the story of Taira no Yorimori being attacked by one Hachimachi Jiro, who hooked a rake onto his helmet, only for Yorimori to reverse the tables by cutting through the shaft of the kumade with his sword, the famous Nuke-maru, sending Jiro tumbling, and returning to camp with the kumade still attached to his helmet, has a ring of truth to it, despite the clearly fictional basis of many of the individual exploits in these tales.  These tales and picture scrolls were mostly created well after the periods they depict (not in the case of the Mongol Invasion scroll, however), but still in a time of pretty constant warfare, so they can be considered reasonably reliable in the weapons they depict.

Doubling as a weapon and a tool, it is difficult to ascertain the origins of this device, but its similarity to the kind of anchor used by small boats suggests this is a possible source. It is often depicted with a rope or chain wound around the shaft, and although I have seen no depictions (or read any accounts) of how this was used, it suggests the head may not have been too firmly fixed on the shaft and the rope/chain served as an additional means of controlling the opponent if the head became detached (or if the shaft was cut through, as in the story above).

Not surprisingly, it was used differently on land and at sea. On land, it seems to have been used both by foot soldiers and mounted warriors, principally as a means of pulling armoured riders off their mounts – a useful tactic, especially given the amount of cordage and loose fitting pieces that made up Japanese armour. At sea, it could be used not only to grapple with enemy boats, but accounts also note its use in rescuing comrades who had fallen into the water. 

Although it seems to have been effective, it was not particularly common. With the weight concentrated at one end, it is likely it was less well-balanced than more typical spears and naginata. Both Musashibo Benkei, legendary retainer of Minamoto Yoshitsune, who carried it as one of his seven weapons/tools, (which also included a large mallet, a broad-bladed axe and an iron staff, all of which were meant to indicate his strength) and the aforementioned Hachimachi Jiro, were warriors of more than average strength, and it may well be that it was, indeed, heavier and less wieldy than more common weapons. 

A close-up from the Denshoubi showing a hybrid rake-like weapon

That it was used by Matsuda Hidenobu in the battle of Sekigahara, suggests it continued to be used throughout the Sengoku period, and perhaps beyond. The fact that surprisingly few examples have survived to the present day suggests it quickly fell out of favour, perhaps to be replaced by other weapons more suitable to the demands of new era. A screen painted around 1614 (the Denshoubi probably by Iwasa Matabei) depicting scenes in Kyoto, shows what looks like a kumade, together with other pole arms, on display at a theatre. Here, however, it seems to have assumed something of a civic role, as something symbolic or to be used in a crowd control function. I believe that it is in this guise that it continued up the the modern era - more of that next time.

One last picture of Matsuda Hidenobu with his leaf rake.It looks like it is from one of the Osprey publications, but it shows the difficulty of finding accurate source material.

 

Unlocking the Secrets of the Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryū

The late Otake Risuke, master of the Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryū

 Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryū is one of the oldest extant schools of martial arts in Japan, with an unbroken lineage from late medieval times, blessed (until recently) with an open and charismatic shihan (not sōke as I wrote previously) who oversaw the teaching and passing on of his skills and knowledge to the next generation while managing to maintain quality control at the same time as expanding its popularity.

It was also notable as the principal koryū studied by Donn Draeger, and through his influence became the point of entry for many non-Japanese interested in older martial traditions. Because of this connection, it was also featured in the BBC documentary ’Way of the Warrior’, becoming familiar to another generation of practitioners outside Japan and it was because of both of these that I learnt about it first myself.

It has a broad technical repertoire utilizing a number of weapons and, unusually in traditional Japanese martial arts, involves quite long kata which are done at speed (and also, at least at one time and depending on the circumstances, also practiced out of doors). Seen from an outsider’s perspective, it is often difficult to tell exactly what is happening in these kata, especially as targets are substituted for the real target to allow a longer sequence and to hide the true nature of the attacks from outsiders. There are several videos online of Otake Risuke demonstrating and explaining parts of these kata, and one can only assume this is the tip of the iceberg. Although such explanations give us an insight into the meanings of the kata, it must be viewed as a partial explanation of the system as a whole - there is, no doubt, very much more that is kept within the teachings. However, it gives enough to have good idea of how deceptive surface appearances can be. 

At first glance, the kata appear more combative than those of other schools - there is much clashing of bokken and the pace is fast. In fact, they look like the kind of choreography you might see in a movie. When Otake explains the techniques it opens a window to understanding, but there is more left unexplained. Two of the points he stressed were that targets are predominantly those areas that would be left minimally protected by armour, and that the targets which are shown in the kata are not the real targets. Strikes made in the kata are typically blocked (for want of a better word) by the opponent’s bokken, or avoided, and although it is sometimes easy to see where the cut is aimed, often the intended target is purposely obscured.

Looking at the kata more closely, there are several other points common to much of Japanese swordsmanship. Many schools of sword stress the ability to make a straight downward cut; their kata feature this as an attack (albeit often an unrealistic one) and often begin with a number of cuts that are obviously not directed at the opponent. (You can see this in the introductory kata of the TSKSR.) Putting aside considerations of reigi (proper behaviour and respect, custom, even religion) that may have influenced these kata (and these aspects should not necessarily be downplayed) what purpose does this have? I believe it is intimately bound up with the style of fighting, one which relies on assessment of line and distance, and one which sees attack as the best defence. These initial cuts are a means of establishing one’s own awareness of the line of the sword, the line which you use to attack and, vitally, must defend against. Understanding and being able to see this line is a vital component of effective swordsmanship: creating and manipulating this line within oneself is an important step towards this.

Otake explaining the finer points of technique to a student

The kata of TSKSR feature a wide variety of attacks to different targets, but still, many of them derive from this basic downward stroke; some other schools keep this focus through whole series of kata. In branches of the Ittō Ryū, for example, understanding this is basically the main point of the whole school. It is not something that a student can develop quickly, but continually returning to this motion will, it is hoped, bring an unconscious understanding. The vital corollary to this is being able to read the line of the opponent’s sword, and this is the basis of all the defensive (for which also read 'attacking') moves.

If line does not seem to be as immediate a focus in TSKSR as in some schools, the same cannot be said of distance, and this, indeed, is key to a proper understanding of the kata. An awareness of this can be seen in the avoidance of cuts by stepping back or taking one hand off the hilt to avoid a cut to the wrist. The importance of this is greater than it first appears, for it is axiomatic in this school that “if you can block, you should cut”, which is to say, in principle, all the ‘blocks’ or ‘parries’ in the kata were actually meant to be cuts, either to the attacking arm or to some other part of the body. (I have seen many a discussion online in which people marshal a variety of evidence - often including reference to TSKSR kata - in argument against this, usually along the lines of “it’s in this kata” or “if it’s a matter of life or death…”, largely unconvincingly). 

I don’t train in TSKSR, nor do I make any claim to understand all the minutiae of the style, so feel free to disregard my opinion on this, but I think the above gives an accurate insight into what makes the sword techniques work. It is an interesting training method, and not having experienced it from the inside, I can’t give any direct comparison with other modes of training. From an outsider's perspective, it seems that some of the kata moves involve strikes of bokken against bokken that are far from the intended usage, even though the speed and rhythm of the kata is much closer to how the techniques might have been used 'for real'.  Like all kata, the effectiveness will depend on how good the attacks are and how much pressure is put on the student, and of course there are trade-offs. 

The vexed question of just how to conduct effective training was something that remained on people’s minds well into the twentieth century. I suspect that, in many cases, kata devolved into a choreographed performance in which the participants relied on foreknowledge of the attack to defend against it, not to mention attacks that were not committed enough to cause much damage even if they had hit. Overcoming these problems is where the advanced levels of training come in, and at least one commentator, Joseishi, an adept of the Shingyōtō ryū, noted that the inner teachings of a style are a development of what was taught as the basic principles, and the importance of sensitivity in developing skill.

For an insider’s view of TSKSR, I recommend listening to this online talk given by Aiden O’Reilly, who does a good job of introducing the style, as well as making some interesting comparisons with another style he practises. (See if you can spot my question towards the end).

https://youtu.be/RGFiodeyx0I?feature=shared

Golden Spring - Japanese historical fiction

                                                    FREE novella available here: Golden Spring

It has taken me long enough, but finally I have my 1930's mystery novel, The Tiger’s Gate available on pre-order on Amazon and most other online bookshops (only as an e-book so far but that may change).

Not only that, but my prequel novella, Golden Spring is available for download free here. You have to sign up for my newsletter to get it, but I promise I won't flood your inbox with emails.

The series is set in 1930's Tokyo, and in Golden Spring, our hero, Oshima Kai, is reminiscing about his time as a soldier in Manchuria and his old friend, Boss. Hired to escort the daughter of a local industrialist as she travels to the Golden Spring Resort, the two comrades look forward to a break from the monotony of a soldier’s life.

Of course, things don’t go as smoothly as they planned and instead of the relaxing weekend he’d hoped for Oshima finds himself involved in a deadly intrigue.

For those of you who enjoy period details and immersing yourself in a culture a little different from your own, this might be just the book. Throw in a shadowy fixer, bandits, a military spy master and mysterious woman and there's a bit off something for everyone! And if you like it, why not take a look at The Tiger's Gate. I hope you enjoy them!

For more information, see my website: cjhellman.com

Now I've sorted that out, I might get down to writing a few more blogs!