Randa Mai (乱田舞) may not be a very familiar name to those of you who are newer to shibari. But for me he was a key figure in my early days, with a marked influence on how I lived, understood and practiced shibari back then (at the start of this century).
Here I revisit and update his biography, first published when he died in September 2022.
It is not a conventional biopic, since I take the opportunity to reflect on some aspects of shibari that we sometimes overlook, whether out of ignorance or because we would rather not look them straight in the eye.
One of the signs that shibari is entering a new cycle is generational change.
Randa Mai was born in Tokyo in 1959 (year 34 of the Showa era) and began his career in the adult industry in the nineties, working with several SM magazines, where he defined his shibari style, in which the whip and physical punishment played an important part. A harshness in tune with Japan’s economic and social situation at the time, when a severe economic crisis was shaking the country.
His rope work stood out for its speed and its very limited use of frictions, and the white rope that became his trademark was bleached linen.
That style, fast and with few frictions, had a physical cause: the same health problem that led to his early retirement. — Yagami Ren, 2023
According to those who knew him, he came to rope after seeing a show by Akechi Denki in the eighties. From the mid-nineties he had a regular column in the Japanese magazine Bizarre, produced the SM Taikai show series and recorded many videos, including the Jabaku series (蛇縛, “the serpent’s tie”).
His image and aesthetic are a classic: dressed in black, in loose lounge clothes, dark glasses, a few days’ stubble, chewing gum and with a cocky attitude.
I remember that in the early years of this century his videos, in dismal VHS rips, circulated on pirated porn sites, and they were among the few audiovisual materials we could get hold of in this part of the world.
The series produced for Attackers deserves special mention; he shared the bill there with other riggers such as Arisue Go.
He was one of the first riggers to pay his models for the marks he left on their bodies. Marks that kept them from working on other productions or events outside SM, which after all was always a minority genre.
From 2002 or 2003, and for several years, he ran the SM bar Ranbukan (乱舞館) in Roppongi, also known as Bar Randa Mai.
Nightlife, alcohol and addiction to other drugs marked his life and career.
For years he was relegated to the most underground circuits, seen by the new wave of Japanese riggers as a marginal character and shunned by those who preferred to stay away from those circles, although most of his students hold him in great regard, both as a teacher and as a person.
But earlier, during the first decade of the century, he was one of the dominant bakushi on the Tokyo scene, filling the space left by Akechi Denki (who died in 2005).
In the early 2000s he was a regular at the Loft Plus One shows in Tokyo around Akechi Denki, who in an interview named him an eminent bakushi of the new generation. His 2002 and 2004 manuals made him known in the West.
At the time, Nawashi Kanna had stepped away from the public scene, Naka Akira was devoted almost entirely to video production, and young riggers such as Hajime Kinoko or Yagami Ren were taking their first steps as students, or had not yet come to shibari.
Randa Mai’s relationship with Aoyama Natsuki (青山夏樹) dates from this period; as his deshi, she would take the name Nidaime Randa Mai (二代目乱田舞, second-generation Randa Mai).
She received that name in 2012, when her master’s retirement became inevitable, and in 2014 she went back to being Aoyama Natsuki. In 2024 she took the name up again for a new version of Jabaku.
Their relationship was complex, marked by the same rough tone that surrounds this bakushi.
In the summer of 2024, Aoyama Natsuki once again wore the dragon on her clothes (a reference to the shirts Randa Mai used to wear), and she again acts as heir to the style.
Although there is no documentary confirmation, everything suggests that Randa Mai was the first to stage the swing over a gyaku ebi tsuri, the now very recognizable image of the rigger swinging over the horizontal body of the person suspended.
His approach to shibari was far removed from the way it is understood today, especially in the West. So was his lifestyle. Too harsh, too violent.
That lifestyle took its toll: his health declined rapidly and he eventually gave up professional work.
I remember a conversation we had years ago in which he bitterly regretted that his lifestyle had cut him off from his family, who at some low point disowned him and turned their backs on him.
One of the few sources for getting to know him outside Japan was an interview Osada Steve did with him around 2000.
In that interview, Randa Mai used bunraku as a metaphor for how he saw his role as a bakushi on stage.
The nawashi must stay in the background. The center of a performance is the woman being handled with the rope, like the puppets brought to life by invisible puppeteers. I like to compare myself to the kuroko (黑子), those men in black who control the puppets in bunraku (文樂, traditional Japanese puppet theater).
In the interview he refers to another concept I would like to point out: those who are “sick at heart” (kokoro byoki, 心病気).
People who cannot manage their emotions in everyday life. Who accept an inhuman way of living. Who let formalities, conventions, the “I have to” and the “I must” prevail over the “I’m going,” the “I am” and the “I’m here.” People who, sooner rather than later, are overcome by stress and emotional exhaustion.
This is how Randa Mai describes the people who come to his private sessions. People who have learned to find in pain a means of escape, not of satisfaction. People for whom the brief moments of aftercare after the session are the only way they allow themselves to feel comfortable and cared for.
That is something horrible. Completely removed from erotic shibari. It is a pantomime of life. Practicing emotional hygiene on yourself is not optional, nor something you can put off until “later.”
A few months before his death, Randa Mai took part, together with Kanno Hana, in what would be his last film.
Only a few months had passed since a medical procedure, and his mobility was severely limited.
And this is a reality that often comes up with Japanese bakushi when they reach a certain age or fall ill. They have to keep working, not by choice. Out of financial need. That is how things are, and we should not sweeten them with romantic idealizations.
Above all, Randa Mai was a figure who should make us reflect on many things. But especially on life’s priorities, on the futility of chasing shadows on the wall and on the importance of approaching shibari from the heart, with honesty (honki, 本気) and with the sole aim of enjoying it as the erotic experience it is.
Rest in peace.
Recovered videos
Over time, and especially after the restrictive measures the Japanese government applied to adult content producers, much of the material about Randa Mai available online has disappeared.
On YouTube you can find the odd old video, with interviews or completely outdated tutorials, and on VK there is a little more material, of value and interest to the nostalgic.
That material includes the Tokyo Torture Chamber (東京拷問室) series by Samurai Video, distributed on VHS in the nineties and a real reference in its day. The ten chapters of his How To Kinbaku series do not work as a tutorial today, but they are valuable as a historical document.
EN