Koto Ryū Tai Kai Dublin 2025: Lessons and Training Insights
When Sensei Mark Roemke returned from the Koto Ryū Tai Kai in Dublin, he came back carrying fresh insights. Koto Ryū (虎倒流), the “Tiger Knocking Down School,” is one of the nine classical schools transmitted through the Bujinkan. Known for its Koppojutsu (bone-breaking techniques), it emphasizes sharp, linear counters designed to shatter structure and overwhelm the opponent.
As he shared them with us in class, it became clear that what he had experienced was more than just a study of Koppojutsu. Traditionally, Koto Ryū is contrasted with its sister art, Gyokko Ryū: where Gyokko targets muscles and soft tissue (Kosshijutsu), Koto strikes bone and joints. Yet the school is not purely “hard”. The Dublin training revealed another layer: unusual cross-stepping, evasive positioning, and weapon integration, reminding us that no ryū is ever just one thing.
“(Noguchi Soke) was showing a lot of Rokushakubo Waza. We did a lot of Hanbo Waza, then variations off those, and then a lot of empty hand as well.” – Sensei Mark Roemke
🌀 Relearning Movement: A Broader View of Koto Ryū
Koto Ryū is often described in terms of force and directness. But at the Dublin Tai Kai, the focus shifted from collision to positioning. Sensei Roemke brought back a nuanced look at evasion, redirection, and stepping patterns. Movement became the mechanism for creating space, time, and opportunity, not just impact. It reframed Koto Ryū as powerful and also adaptable, a reminder that the densho aren’t fixed in stone, but living guides meant to evolve with the practitioner’s understanding.
“In this Tai Kai, he went over the reverse Yoko Aruki. Yoko Aruki is a sideways stepping motion, but you can actually do it 360 degrees in any direction. The Koto Ryu style of stepping he emphasized was starting in Shizen with both feet parallel, then pulling one foot back behind the other to blade the body at 90 or 180 degrees. This opens up a lot of possibilities. You might pull back lightly, or fall all the way onto the rear leg, or even step two-seventy behind you. That sets up the second, third, and fourth move. I called it Koto Ryu stepping when I came back to teach, and it’s really neat if you try it with the Kihon Happo. I usually teach that in a Gyokku Ryu style, so this breaks the mold and opens things up.” – Sensei Mark Roemke
🌍 The Role of the Buyu: Global Brotherhood in Action
Beyond the technical insights, the Tai Kai also offered a powerful experience of the global Bujinkan community. With practitioners from across Europe, the event became a shared exploration rather than a rigid seminar, with each bringing their own expression of the art.
This spirit of mutual respect, curiosity, and camaraderie often gets called Buyu (martial friendship) but in this case, it wasn’t just a word. It was alive in every interaction, every partner exchange, and every shared meal. Events like these help break down the illusion that we train in isolation. They’re reminders that we are part of something larger, a network of practitioners, teachers, and seekers all navigating the same labyrinth in different languages.
“The Buyu was very magical and very special. It was a different type of Tai Kai for me because there were so many people from so many different countries. There, you’re getting to train with people from Spain, Italy, Yugoslavia, Poland. It was so cool. The camaraderie was there. The Buyu heart was there. The respect was there. Happiness was there. Getting to train with some of the other Dai Shihans from around the world was very fun for me because, as somebody who’s geeking out on ninjutsu and has stayed in it as long as I have, it’s like you’re getting to play chess with a master chess player. And I’m not saying I’m a master, but I’ve been in it a long time, and it’s just fun to play with other people at that level, and the sensitivity is there. You could just turn on the hard at any moment, and they did. We threw each other around, and it was a lot of fun.” – Sensei Mark Roemke
🧠 The Value of Direct Transmission
One of the most meaningful aspects of a Tai Kai like this is the opportunity to experience direct contact with a senior master, not as an observer, but as a participant. When that interaction is tactile, when the instructor applies the technique on you, or moves with you in the moment, something gets transmitted that can’t be written down or filmed. It’s felt. For seasoned practitioners, these moments can offer the most profound adjustments to how we move and perceive.
This isn’t just about getting a correction. It’s about sensing what generations of practitioners have passed down, a kind of embodied knowledge that lives in the muscles and nervous system, not the mind.
“Some Tai Kais pack in everything and try to pack in a lot of people to teach. It was only Noguchi teaching all of the sessions. When you go to get to train in Japan, the difference is you’re in a smaller class situation with him teaching in the room, and he literally goes around and trains with every single person in the room in Japan multiple times. I got to train with him, like, 20 times in Ireland, with a physical interaction where he did the move on me, and I punched and attacked and did different things. It’s so beautiful when you get to have that, one-on-one contact with somebody who’s such a higher level, and, you know, that gets to be challenging the longer you stay in the art.” – Sensei Mark Roemke
🙏 Hosting and the Hidden Work of the Tai Kai
Of course, events like this don’t happen without an enormous amount of unseen effort. Coordinating a Tai Kai, especially one involving a Japanese grandmaster, involves logistics, translation, hospitality, and the kind of organizational grit that rarely gets spotlighted.
“I’m very grateful for Alex Meehan and the Bujinkan Namiryu Dojo in Dublin, Ireland, for putting on the Tai Kai and bringing Noguchi and Mark Lithgow, his translator, to come out with him. That was great.” – Sensei Mark Roemke
🧭 Closing Reflections: The Hidden Shape of Koto Ryū
In the end, what made the Dublin Tai Kai so impactful was not that it taught new techniques, though it certainly did. It was that it challenged assumptions. It showed that Koto Ryū can be circular, that weapons belong in the same breath as taijutsu. Global connection can feel immediate. Even after decades of training, the art can still surprise you.
And maybe that’s one of the deepest lessons of all: The moment you think you understand a thing fully, you’ve stopped learning it.
