In search of storytelling wisdom, I stumbled upon kishōtenketsu. This technique stood out among other story structures I was learning. Unlike the 3-acts story structure or Blake Synder’s Save the Cat Beat Sheet, kishōtenketsu doesn’t rely on conflict to tell a story, which piqued my curiosity as someone more familiar with the Western storytelling tradition.

What is Kishōtenketsu?

Kishōtenketsu refers to the 4-act narrative structure that originated in China’s jueju, a form of quatrain poetry. Besides Japan and China, kishōtenketsu is also well-known in Korea. The term ‘kishōtenketsu’ is an abbreviation of ki, shō, ten, and ketsu that describes the structure’s four acts.

Ki (Introduction): The first act introduces us to the main characters and settings.

Shō (Development): We get to know more about these characters and settings. Although nothing major might happen, the second act builds our understanding of the characters and settings. If required, it also arouses our empathy for them.

Ten (Twist): The third act is the heart of the story where things get unexpected. However, although ten often translates to ‘twist,’ it doesn’t necessarily mean that we’ll get a big or mind-boggling twist, for it can be a subtle change that disturbs how the story has developed in ki and shō. Ten comes in various forms. It can be an explicit change in the current circumstance (Hodaka learned about the consequence of Hina’s power in Weathering with You), a perspective switch (a time-skip in A Silent Voice), the appearance of a new element (the third family in Parasite), etc.

In any form, ten progresses the story in an unexpected or odd direction we, the readers, don’t expect. As opposed to the common use of twist, ten doesn’t have to affect the characters in some ways since its presence in a story is for us to understand the conclusion. Another quality of ten is that it can be radical because the twist is often not overshadowed in the first two acts.

Ketsu (Conclusion): In the fourth act, we reach the end of the story. Ketsu is where the events in the first and second acts reconcile with the twist in the third act. Differing from other story structures, ketsu doesn’t need to be a resolution. It is simply an ending. Whether it still leaves questions, whether nothing actually happens and is solved, or whether our characters don’t grow doesn’t matter much as long as the events and the twist come together in the conclusion.

Kishōtenketsu’ has been adopted in many forms of literature, including novels and movies, and games. For a wider audience, Perhaps, kishōtenketsu is perhaps best known for Japanese yonkoma (four-panel) manga.

Kishōtenketsu Vs. The 3-Act Story Structure

To better illustrate how kishōtenketsu works, I’d like to provide a comparison between a story that uses kishōtenketsu and a story that uses the 3-act story structure.

Kishotenketsu

Ki: A solo traveler was driving his minibus to get to City X, his next travel destination.

Shō: The traveler stopped at a convenience store to buy some drinks and snacks.

Ten: When he was about to get back to his minibus, he overheard a man on his phone talking to someone who was supposed to pick him up.

Ketsu: The traveler asked the man where he was heading. The traveler offered his help to take him there, and the man gladly accepted the offer. They traveled together.

3-Act Story Structure

Act 1: A traveler was driving his minibus to get to City X, his next travel destination. Suddenly, the air conditioner stopped working. He thought it wasn’t serious because his minibus was old.

Act 2: The engine was slowing down and completely stopped near a convenience store. He tried to fix the problem but failed. The day was getting darker, and he couldn’t possibly leave the minibus there. So, he went to the convenience store in hope of finding someone who understood cars more than he did.

Act 3: He found a man who could help him. The minibus was fixed.

Notice how the story using kishōtenketsu doesn’t have any conflict built into the structure as it unfolds using exposition and twist. This is what I mean by how kishōtenketsu doesn’t rely on conflict to unpack a story. The character also didn’t face opposition, nor did he achieve something at the end. The only thing he underwent was a change from driving alone in the first two acts to having a companion in the fourth act.

However, in the second story that uses the 3-acts story structure, a conflict — a traveler vs. his car — is an integral part of the structure. This conflict appears in act one, escalates in act two, and is resolved in act three. In other words, the story revolves around the conflict faced by the character.

Now, the question arising will be. “Does a story, that uses kishōtenketsu, have no conflict at all?” Keep in mind that kishōtenketsu is like a map guiding us to the X-marked point. However, how to get to the destination — what car we use, what songs we play, how fast we drive, with whom we ride — is all up to us. Therefore, I think inserting conflict in kishōtenketsu depends on the writers. If we want to have a conflict, kishōtenketsu allows it, but if we don’t want any, kishōtenketsu pays no mind.

Kishōtenketsu Example

Let’s look at how kishōtenketsu is implemented in Memories of Murder (2003), a Korean film directed by Bong Joon Ho.

Ki: A woman’s body was found under a water tunnel near a rice field in a small Korean province. Detective Park Doo Man, along with the local police and a detective from Seoul named Seo Tae Yoon, was investigating the case.

Sho: We learned about the difference between Park (plus the local police) and Seo. Park relied more on his intuition to solve a case and was willing to make up evidence suiting his intuition. The local police were no better. Together, they handled the case really poorly. On the other hand, Seo was more idealistic and righteous in doing his job, and he trusted the documents or evidence more than anything.

Ten: The lack of evidence had been the investigation’s main problem. Park was still forcing his intuition, and Seo was still trying to gather more evidence as they dived deeper into the case. The finding of Ahn Mi Seon’s body, another victim, stirred the circumstance. It drove Park to admit his faults and Seo to lose his calm. When they finally found a man, Park Hyeon Gyu, who matched the clues they had gathered, we expected the case to finally move somewhere. However, it didn’t.

Ketsu: The conclusion showed how the twist and its consequence transformed Park and Seo. They changed quite drastically from how they were portrayed in ki and shō.

We’ve reached the ketsu of this article. Although kishōtenketsu is often used in the slice-of-life genre because of its realism, it isn’t restricted there, for it can be utilized in various genres like mystery.

I hope that this tiny bit of information can help you gain more insights into the wild jungle called storytelling, especially in the territory of Asian storytelling tradition.

Let me know what structure you usually use when you write a story!