Sonkyo. The moment both knees drop to the floor, the bamboo sword is held horizontally across the waist, the blade facing left. The opponent squats down as well. The dojo is so quiet you can hear the rain in the distance.
Stand up. Assume the Chudan stance. The tip of the bamboo sword points at the opponent’s throat—and his tip points precisely at mine. The two swords cross lightly, their tips overlapping by about fifteen centimeters.
It is exactly these fifteen centimeters—in my twelve years of practicing kendo, I have spent more time analyzing this gap than anything else.
Press forward an inch, and his sword slides off your centerline. You gain an attack channel—but your own center is exposed. Take a step back, and you are safe, but your sword can no longer reach him. You become a spectator holding a weapon. The hardest part is stopping right here. Neither advancing nor retreating. You can hear your own breathing echoing inside the mask. Sweat slides from your forehead into your eyes, and you cannot blink, because the fraction of a second you blink is the exact moment you get struck on the Men (head).
This pocket of air has a name. In kendo, it is called Ma-ai.
After years of training, my deepest realization boils down to one thing: Most of the time when you fail to strike, it is not because your technique is flawed; it is because you are standing in the wrong position. Stand too far, and you are forever a spectator. Stand too close, and you will be frozen by the opponent’s pressure. Only by finding that exact margin—“half a step forward to hit, half a step back to miss”—can you launch a strike.
This type of stalemate plays out every day in the business world. We call it “market research,” “strategic analysis,” or “waiting for the right moment.” Fundamentally, however, it happens because we fail to grasp the exact distance between ourselves and our competitors.
Regarding this distance, Toyota taught us the most expensive lesson.
In business school textbooks, Toyota is the god of Just-in-Time (JIT). Zero inventory. Ultimate efficiency. Parts arrive at the production line exactly one minute before assembly. A second early is waste; a second late is an accident. The entire supply chain meshes like a precision Swiss watch. This system’s logic was utterly perfect—until March 11, 2011.
On that day, the tsunami triggered by the Great East Japan Earthquake destroyed Renesas Electronics’ factories. Renesas was the sole global supplier for Toyota’s critical microcontrollers (MCUs). Why use a sole supplier? Because it maximizes efficiency and minimizes management costs. In peacetime, this is the optimal solution.
But in the face of disaster, because of this single chip worth a few dollars, Toyota’s entire production network in Japan was paralyzed for three full months. Losing billions of yen every day. During those three months, as Toyota executives stared at empty production lines, they realized they had made a fatal error: They had closed the distance too much.
In kendo terms: Toyota had been playing Chika-ma—close-quarters combat. The essence of JIT is dancing on the edge of a deadline. It operates on the default assumption that the environment is deterministic and logistics are unobstructed. Therefore, it dares to engage in close combat to extract maximum returns. Just like a swordsman who, assuming a weak opponent and flat ground, constantly presses forward. But when a massive tsunami (a black swan) hits, the environment changes. The ground begins to shake violently. Engaging in close combat at that moment is tantamount to seeking death.
Learning from the pain, Toyota didn’t just rebuild its factories; it repaired its mindset. They initiated a Business Continuity Plan (BCP). For 500 critical “choke-point” components that could not afford a single disruption, Toyota betrayed the very JIT system it had invented. They began to stockpile aggressively. For certain chips, inventory was pushed up to 6 months.
At the time, Wall Street analysts looked at the mounting inventory costs on Toyota’s balance sheets and sneered: “Toyota is getting old.” “This violates the logic of lean manufacturing.” “Capital utilization is too low.”
Toyota offered no explanation. Like a patient hunter, they silently guarded these “inefficient” stockpiles.
Nine years later. 2020. The COVID-19 pandemic erupted. Global supply chains ruptured. This time, the tsunami swept the entire world.
GM, Ford, Volkswagen… the giants still worshipping at the altar of JIT were forced to halt production due to chip shortages. Empty lots were packed with half-finished cars, each missing just a few cheap chips. In 2021 alone, the global automotive industry lost over $210 billion due to the chip shortage. Stock prices were slashed; workers lost their jobs.
Except Toyota. Their warehouses held chips stockpiled months in advance. Their production lines didn’t stop for a single day. In that battle, Toyota not only avoided losses but seized competitors’ market share, crowning themselves number one in global automotive sales.
Only then did the market understand: Toyota hadn’t become timid; it had simply expanded its “Ma-ai”.
Kendo divides the distance between you and your opponent into three zones:
To-ma (Long distance) — The safety distance. You cannot strike them, and they cannot strike you. Most companies love to stay here: conducting research, reading reports, waiting for others to make the first move. It is comfortable and safe, but nothing ever happens.
Issoku Itto no Ma-ai (One-step, one-strike distance) — The life-and-death line. One step forward and you can strike, but you can also be struck. This is the most dangerous yet most valuable position. All victories and defeats are decided on this line.
Chika-ma (Close distance) — Close quarters. Bayonet-fighting range. JIT lives right here.
Toyota’s wisdom was realizing that it was operating at Chika-ma regarding its critical components, yet the frequency of global disasters had exceeded the fault tolerance of that distance. So it proactively took a step back. Back to Issoku Itto no Ma-ai. This was not a retreat; it was a recalibration of distance.
The tragedy for most companies is this: When they need to expand the distance (in a crisis), they greedily close in (pursuing extreme efficiency); When they need to engage in close-quarters combat (to capture market dividends), they hide securely at a distance (over-researching).
Toyota’s true mastery does not lie in choosing between JIT or stockpiling. It lies in understanding elasticity. It knows exactly when to advance and when to retreat. It knows how to use seemingly “inefficient” inventory costs to purchase the “right to survive” in extreme scenarios. This is the highest order of efficiency.
Look back at your own business.
Are you blindly engaging in close-quarters combat, even when there is a cliff dead ahead? Or are you hiding securely at a distance making PowerPoint decks, lying to yourself that this is “strategic focus”?
If you constantly feel that you “cannot see clearly,” perhaps it is not a problem with your vision. It is because you are standing in the wrong position.
Is your Ma-ai calibrated?
