"Traditionally the old iron plate tsuba are classified into Ko Tosho (old sword smith), and Ko Katchushi (old armor maker) styles. It is sometimes difficult to justify attribution of a given tsuba to the Tosho or Katchushi category. Generally guards with raised rims or relatively complex designs tend to be assigned to Katchushi. This is basically a convention we follow out of habit and convenience." [...] "In Token Kai-Shi part six, Articles by Akiyama Kyusaku, Robert Haynes comments: "…from 1300 to 1400 over 150,000 MOUNTED swords were made in Japan for export alone. This means that over four tsuba a day were made for 100 years. This would mean that at least 3000 persons were making nothing but tsuba, let alone all the other fittings needed to complete these swords. With sword smiths, fittings makers and all the other artists need to complete a sword for export, at least 10,000 sword artists were working together, in any one of these hundred years."

A Kamakura-bori tsuba of octagonal form, Momoyama period.

TSU-0319. Ōnin ten-zōgan tsuba, Muromachi period.

Tears That Brought Bamboo-shoots From the Frozen Earth: Meng Zong Meng Zong lived during the Three Kingdoms Period of China's past. His father died when he was young, and he and his mother struggled to survive. One winter his mother was stricken with a serious illness, and craved some bamboo-shoot broth as medicine. But in the depths of winter, with snow and ice blanketing the ground, where was anyone to find fresh bamboo shoots, shoots that emerge only in the warm months? Nonetheless, Meng Zong, to avoid disappointing his mother, bravely fetched his shovel and went out into the white landscape in search of bamboo shoots. In the thicket he found only frosted leaves and green stalks coated with snowflakes and ice. Look as he might, there were simply no fresh shoots growing in the winter. The thought of his poor mother lying sick on her bed, waiting for bamboo-broth medicine, made his heartache. Uncontrollably, tears began to fall in rivers to the ground beneath the tall, emerald canes. Even now, as his tears flowed down, he kept a light of faith in his heart. If he was truly sincere in his search, perhaps.... Just then Meng Zong nearly tripped and fell over a sharply protruding lump of earth. He quickly knelt down and knocked aside the dirt with his trembling fingers. How uncanny! Underneath his frozen hands he discovered a bed of fresh, tender bamboo shoots! Overjoyed, he gathered up a coatful and carried them back home. The broth that he quickly set stewing in the pot soon cured his mother's illness. The neighbors, hearing the story, exclaimed that it was the strength of his sincere, unselfish, filial resolve that inspired heaven and earth to respond, and to bring up, out of season, the fresh shoots that cured his mother's disease. Before Meng Zong's prayers generated this miracle, it was normally considered impossible for bamboo shoots to grow in the winter. After the nmiracle took place, however, people were able to gather and to eat bamboo shoots all year round. The winter variety that existed hereafter became known as "winter shoots." The villagers were deeply influenced by Meng Zong's courage and devotion. They renamed the spot where the event took place, "Meng Zong's Bamboo Grove". We can now enjoy bamboo sprouts during the winter as well, and as we do so, it is fitting to recollect Meng Zong's outstanding example of filial respect, and reflect on our conduct as sons and daughter of our parents. A verse in his honor says, His teardrops transformed winter at the roots; Up from the ice crept tender bamboo shoots. Instantly, the winter-sprouts matured; Heaven's will: a happy, peaceful world.