I now have a dotanuki, yay! I've already written a bit about it recently, but I think the subject deserves another paragraph or two. Maybe a couple of pages. It'll be short. Well, maybe not short enough… but at least I'll divide it into sections.

Part One: No sword is such as popular.

I don't think there's a weapon with as much associated mystique as katanas. The stories that spread misinformation, exaggerations, and legends have not only crossed all territorial borders and boarded multiple artistic fields, but have even proliferated in confusing debates, repeated today in ridiculous internet videos, to the point that in this information age, the reality surrounding it is very elusive.

What seems undeniable to me is that the aesthetic beauty of katanas has been an relevant factor in making them the most prevalent sword in fiction. The scope of these works even extends beyond the feudal Japan from which they originated, permeating popular contemporary works and even cyberpunk genres.

Of course, their mysticism is not solely associated with this aesthetic aspect, but rather connects with the vision of the "samurai," the fascinating Japanese warrior who seems so strange and captivating to the West. In this sense, the Japanese sword fits perfectly into the vision of something distant and mysterious, something inaccessible to a modern Westerner, and focuses attention on a single object, but in reality points to a multitude of tropes such as the tea ceremony, haiku poems, duels for honor, ritual suicide, family clans, the wandering adventurer, and so many other cultural phenomena. Of course, when we want to be this positive, we don't talk about the rampant classism, the expansionist, warmongering culture, the blatant sexism, the cruelty of the justice system, the trials with live prisoners, the questionable sexuality, and so many other qualities that are an integral part of the whole.

But anyway, they're pretty beautiful, aren't they?

Part Two: I never felt worthy.

I approached the world of samurai, like so many others, through fiction that wasn't always accurate, because many times it's directed by USA fiction and geared toward a Western audience, so intentionally or not, it's full of biases.

I couldn't have been more than sixteen when I started playing "Legend of the Five Rings," which is basically a completely Hollywood fantasy, but which even today still holds a certain charm for me. I think I started reading "Usagi Yojimbo" around the same time. Its author, Stan Sakai, is of Japanese descent, although he grew up in Hawaii, so I would say that the adventures of the samurai rabbit are somewhere between a Japanese and an American perspective. Around this time, the miniseries "Shogun" was also very popular, and of course, the famous films of Akira Kurosawa were reasonably accessible. Titles like "Seven Samurai," "Yojimbo," "The Hidden Fortress," or (in a different vein) "Ran" introduced me to less westernized views of the samurai style.

In Spain, the anime "Kenshin" was also very popular. While it's pure fantasy, it also took us out of the Sengoku period and into the Meiji Restoration. The katana had survived centuries of the Eastern Middle Ages, the Bakumatsu period, and resisted disappearing even in the face of firearms.

A few years later, entirely American fiction such as "The Last Samurai" and "Kill Bill" became very popular. While these films are highly debatable on many levels, katanas undoubtedly appear and play a constant role.

And all this without even mentioning video games, among which I would highlight the two "Bushido Blade" games, whose style is certainly a precursor to other modern titles.

I won't claim to be an expert on this subject because I'm not, but I've always had more interest in and knowledge of the shoguns than in the kings of Spain.

However, the work of fiction that most influenced me in this regard was "Lone Wolf and Cub," from beginning to end. This dramatic epic illustrates, always through fiction, life in a dark and violent Japan, written and illustrated by two Japanese gentlemen for a Japanese audience. This isn't the only work by Koike Kazuo and Kojima Goseki, and over time I've had the opportunity to read, among others, the stories of Asa, Hanzo, Kei, and the always fascinating Tarobe Koi.

I don't think these works are for everyone. They show a sublime vision of a rather dark world, but the perspective of 1970s Japan wasn't exactly exemplary either. In particular, these works feature blatant sexism and a rather revealing view of sex.

But anyway, setting all these issues aside, these works instilled in me a different narrative model that represents, with its virtues and flaws, Japanese samurai society. Within this framework, the figure of the Eastern hero differs markedly from his Western counterpart, as he is part of a social context to which he must answer, so that acts of individualism are usually linked to a personal drama with almost always fatal consequences for him. Many of Kazuo Koike's characters have renounced their humanity and travel a terrible path, and while this path is full of romantic duels and grandiose speeches, it doesn't leave much room for Western morality or even the simplest respect for life.

Furthermore, the sword of Ogami Itto, the lone wolf, is a dotanuki. A broadsword that doesn't dull and with which one can deliver powerful blows from horseback—no small feat.

So when I was looking through the Yari No Hanzo catalog, the fact that one of the katana models was a dotanuki obviously caught my eye. Of course, Koike Kazuo would have spat on me for being trans and a gaijin, but I can't be a samurai, only a trans cyberpunk warrior.

Koike Kazuo passed away on April 17, 2019. I wore a white armband in her memory, as white is the color of mourning in Japan.

Until March 2026, I never owned a Japanese sword, and as I suppose is clear from this text, it wasn't for lack of interest in them or the samurai world. But the truth is, I never considered myself worthy of owning one because I didn't know how to handle them.

In the 21st-century Western context, owning a sword is simply a matter of being able to afford it, so most of those sold end up in the hands of people who don't know how to use them. Nor, in the context of the Tokugawa peace, did carrying a sword imply knowing how to defend oneself with it, as it had become a symbol of a social class that, far removed from the needs of war, occupied civil service positions while gradually loosing power to the emerging merchant class.

Similarly, if bought a katana over the years, I would have been acknowledging my belonging to a social class with economic means, but without explicit knowledge of martial arts. It would have been a sword in a display case. Aesthetic art, which isn't bad, but it doesn't quite fit with the image I want to have of myself.

This brings me to some point around September 2024. By then, I was already proficient enough with the longsword to feel comfortable and confident in many situations, but on the other hand, I felt certain deficiencies in mid-range combat (it will always be my weakest point) and non-contact swordplay. And in this situation, my teacher Juan Carlos Fernández announced the Kenjutsu Gekiken course in the Carranza room.

I signed up with some doubts about my own abilities. On the one hand, I thought I would improve my game… and on the other hand, I would learn to handle a katana following the philosophy of metal sword assaults typical of historical fencing. I was going through a difficult time, and it wouldn't hurt to have more time occupied.

It hasn't come without a cost. Filling my time was good mentally, but I've maintained my attendance consistently, even coming close to overcoming that phase, and I don't want to quit. The cost of fuel to get to the classes isn't trivial either, so in the end, it's a demanding discipline for me.

Of course, it was also mental demanding. The katana is a two-handed sword, but it only has one sharpened edge, and it lacks a fuller, so the technique is really different from that of my beloved longsword, which I was used to. Submitting myself to more discomfort was tough, but after a lot of training and sparring, I started to feel comfortable too. And without claiming to be good at anything, at least I know why I succeed when I do, and why I fail when I don't.

So I was already meeting my own standards. I could buy a katana without it being just a decorative object. I was ready.

Part Three: I Don't Know What I Want.

A perceptive reader might put the facts together and think I set out to find a dotanuki specifically, but as the title of this third part indicates, that wasn't the case. The main reason is that I've never been entirely clear on what a dotanuki is.

Well, it's clear that in Koike Kazuo's fiction, a dotanuki is a war short sword that doesn't dull and with which one can deliver powerful blows from horseback. But if we search online, we find a lot of varied information that, at best, is incomplete, and at worst, contradictory.

The principle of documentary prudence compels me to question every source, especially in the 21st century on the internet, but in this particular case, the strong mysticism mentioned earlier permeates all the information.

Of course, I could have asked the expert sensei in the Carranza room, who has published several articles on Japanese swords, but I didn't think my curiosity was deep enough to warrant his learned time.

In truth, my buying process was going to be much more reckless, uninformed, and probably cyberpunk: I asked a friend from the Kenjutsu Gekiken group for the right supplier, and I looked through the catalog, one by one.

Within the extensive description on the artisan's website, the description of the dotanuki repeatedly used words like "sober, functional, clean, practical, austere, restrained." And a cyberpunk trans warrior like me wants a weapon that works, not the prettiest one. I'd already bought it.

But on top of that… it's a dotanuki!

Part 4: Closing the Circle.

Okay, I don't know what to expect from a dotanuki. I have the vision that Kazuo Koike expressed in his most famous manga, but it contains countless fictional elements. I also have the vision of the manufacturer from whom I bought it, but the description includes elements that don't match what's on Wikipedia, and Wikipedia itself provides different information depending on the language.

But I believe that a dotanuki is a sword designed to withstand the rigors of war. Therefore, it makes significant sacrifices in terms of aesthetics to maintain maximum functionality, and I like that; it satisfies the self-image I described in the first part of this text.

It's a concept that inspired Kazuo Koike, and also the maker of the very sword I hold in my hands. It's a choice within the practice of weaponry that I feel comfortable with, and one that I hope to honor with my actions. While I'll never be the best at this demanding practice, I am clear about the principles that guide my experience.