Beyond Lineage: The Real Value of Modern Ninjutsu

PUBLISHED 31 AUGUST 2025

Does It Matter If Hatsumi & Kawakami Are “Genuine” Ninja Masters?

The debate over the legitimacy of modern ninjutsu is as old as the art’s resurgence in the 20th century. On one side stand practitioners who revere figures like Masaaki Hatsumi and Jinichi Kawakami as custodians of ancient ninja traditions. On the other side are researchers and skeptics who demand historical documentation and dismiss unverifiable lineages as inventions.

But perhaps the more important question is not whether their claims can be proven, but whether it matters. Does the inspiration and legacy they provide outweigh the lack of clear evidence? To address this, we must consider what ninjutsu means today, and what role myth, lineage, and practice play in its survival.

The Faces of Modern Ninjutsu

Masaaki Hatsumi, now in his nineties, trained for fifteen years under Toshitsugu Takamatsu, who in turn passed on to him the teachings of nine martial traditions—three of which were said to be “ninja schools,” the others samurai-derived. Hatsumi went on to found the Bujinkan Dojo in Noda, where thousands of students worldwide have studied. For decades, he demonstrated remarkable vitality, teaching well into his eighties, while also holding ranks in karate, judo, and other martial systems.

Jinichi Kawakami, born in 1949, leads the Banke Shinobinoden and has been dubbed by some media outlets as “the last ninja.” He learned as a boy from Masazo Ishida, a medicine peddler who claimed to be one of the final transmitters of Koga-style ninjutsu. Kawakami has since taught both practical skills—like stealth, climbing, and concealment—and contributed to academic study through his appointment at Mie University.

These two men are widely considered the living representatives of ninjutsu. Yet their lineages are hotly disputed. For Hatsumi, there is little beyond his testimony and Takamatsu’s word. For Kawakami, his teacher’s obscurity and lack of documented ties to historical shinobi leave skeptics unconvinced.

The Problem of Proof

Modern audiences want verifiable evidence: certificates, scrolls, unbroken genealogies. But ninjutsu was, by definition, a clandestine art. Oral transmission (kuden) was common, and many traditions relied more on trust and loyalty than on paperwork. Even surviving texts like the Bansenshukai note that certain elements can only be understood through oral teaching.

That leaves practitioners with a dilemma: should Hatsumi and Kawakami be expected to produce documents, or should their knowledge, skill, and influence suffice as proof? In truth, both answers have merit. Scholars pursue historical accuracy; practitioners pursue embodied skill. One seeks verifiable data, the other seeks usable experience. The divide between the two explains much of the friction.

Myth as a Functional Tool

Even if unbroken ninja lineages cannot be verified, the myth of the ninja plays a vital role. Myths provide narrative cohesion. They create identity and meaning. The figure of the shinobi—elusive, resourceful, cunning—has inspired generations worldwide, sparking both academic study and personal practice.

It may not matter whether Hatsumi’s Togakure-ryu scrolls truly stretch back to the 12th century. What matters is that his students believe in and train through a tradition that teaches perseverance, adaptability, and cunning. Myths need not be factually airtight to have real-world value.

The “Last Ninja” Problem

Media headlines often brand Kawakami or Hatsumi as “the last ninja.” Yet the phrase is paradoxical: if they are truly the last, then ninjutsu ends with them; if the art continues through their students, they cannot be the last.

This tension exposes the marketing trap of modern ninjutsu. The “last ninja” narrative is romantic and sells headlines, but it oversimplifies reality. The true story is messier: fragments of martial, cultural, and folkloric traditions carried forward, reconstructed, and reimagined for a modern context.

Cultural Export & Identity

Whatever their genealogical authenticity, Hatsumi and Kawakami have undeniably shaped how the world perceives ninjutsu. Hatsumi’s Bujinkan has dojos across the globe, and his influence helped define the ninja boom of the 1980s. Kawakami’s teaching and museum work have anchored ninjutsu within Japan’s cultural heritage.

In this sense, both men function less as secretive operatives and more as cultural ambassadors. They have turned ninjutsu into a living practice—part martial art, part heritage, part mythology—ensuring it is not forgotten in an age of digital espionage and corporate intelligence.

Modern Relevance

No one today is a ninja in the Sengoku-era sense of espionage agents in the night. Technology, fashion, and warfare have changed beyond recognition. A modern “shinobi” is more likely to study cybersecurity or corporate espionage than to scale castle walls in tabi boots.

And yet, ninjutsu endures as a martial study. Bujinkan classes emphasize striking, throws, weapons, and strategy. Kawakami’s lessons explore survival and adaptation—skills like torch making, silent travel, and crossing rivers.. These skills may not be directly practical for daily life, but they provide physical training, mental discipline, and a sense of cultural continuity.

The value of ninjutsu today lies not in espionage utility but in the lessons of adaptability, creativity, and persistence—virtues as relevant now as they were centuries ago.

Beyond Legitimacy

So does it matter whether Hatsumi or Kawakami are “genuine” heirs to ninja lineages? From an academic standpoint, yes—lineage determines historical credibility. But for practitioners, the answer is less important. What matters is whether their teachings inspire, transform, and transmit valuable lessons.

Legitimacy is not the only measure of worth. Ninjutsu today is a hybrid: part martial art, part cultural export, part living myth. Hatsumi and Kawakami embody this hybridity. They are not Sengoku spies, nor necessarily unbroken links to the past—but they are role models who have dedicated their lives to carrying forward something that might otherwise have been forgotten.

A Call to Action

Perhaps the real question is not whether Hatsumi or Kawakami are “true ninjas,” but whether we, as students and researchers, are willing to take inspiration from their work. We can waste time arguing over definitions, or we can deepen our study, refine our skills, and embody the lessons of ninjutsu in our own lives.

The ninja of history are gone. But through figures like Hatsumi and Kawakami, the spirit of ninjutsu survives—not as espionage, but as a living tradition of adaptability, resilience, and imagination. The rest is up to us.