When writing slice-of-life scenes, sequences, acts, or whole narrative arcs, it can be tricky to keep them interesting; kishotenketsu story structure can help writers do just that.
What is Slice of Life?
Slice-of-life moments depict ordinary, everyday life. They can include routines, like walking a dog, making dinner, or even waking up and getting ready for school; or typical social interactions, like hanging out with a friend, asking a spouse about their day, or getting permission from a boss to leave work early. They tend to have low conflict and low stakes, and in fact, they may even have no conflict.
The longer the slice-of-life part is in a story, the trickier it can be to pull off. A bored audience is usually one that won't stick around, and slice-of-life can be rather mundane.
In a strange way, this often makes slice of life significantly more difficult to write. In a high-stakes, conflict-filled scene, the writer has a lot to work with. If your character is running away from a serial killer, it's innately interesting, and the audience is much more likely to stick around. When a character is doing routine paperwork with little at risk, it can easily, and quickly, turn boring. (And frankly, many unpublished slice-of-life scenes don't contribute enough to the story.)
With that said, what often makes slice of life interesting and enjoyable are the characters and their relationships, and/or the atmosphere and setting. With the "right" characters, a simple trip to the grocery store can be a treat. And if the setting is something like Paris, then everyday experiences there can feel like pleasurable escapism. The target audience may want to linger in a bakery near the Eiffel Tower.
Many fans of slice of life also cite nostalgia as a draw, and they appreciate reading or watching a story that is actually relaxing. While not a requirement, slice of life tends to be lighthearted. If an entire book or show is slice of life, then often it will be paired with another genre--most commonly comedy or romance. It's typically very difficult to get away with writing something that is pure slice of life (because of some reasons we'll cover below).
Yet, with the rise of slice-of-life vlogs in recent decades, as well as slice of life's close cousin, cozy fiction, it's obvious there is an appetite for "quieter," realistic content.
One of the best ways to handle that content, is to follow kishotenketsu story structure.
What is Kishotenketsu Story Structure?
Kishotenketsu is a 4-part narrative structure used in China, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam that has made its way into the West. I already wrote a comprehensive article on kishotenketsu, but for a quick rundown, it works like this:
Ki means Introduction
The character(s), setting, and any other important information are introduced. This is the setup.
Sho means Development
The writer builds on and develops what was introduced.
Ten means Turn
Something unexpected turns, shifts, or simply changes the narrative.
Ketsu means Conclusion
The narrative concludes. Traditionally, the ketsu is used to reconcile the ten with the prior two parts, explaining or validating the change and often offering a new perspective of the narrative. However, this isn't necessarily a requirement, and ketsu is simply the ending.
The structure has different names in different languages, but it's the Japanese name, kishotenketsu, that has entered the English language. (And it is pronounced as "kee-show-ten-ketsu"--and technically the "u" at the end is soft and short.)
As a quick example, we can look at this famous Japanese poem:
Untitled by Rai San'yo
Itoya's daughters in Honmachi near Osaka,
the elder is 16, the younger 14.
Daimyo in various regions kill with bows and arrows,
Itoya's daughters kill with their gaze.
The first line introduces Itoya's daughters, in Honmachi.
The second line expands on that, by providing more info: the oldest is 16, and the younger is 14.
The third line is a sudden shift, a change in topic--it seems unrelated.
And the fourth line reconciles ten with ki and sho, conveying the relation. The daughters "kill" others like the Daimyo, but with their gazes. This concludes the poem.
The ten in kishotenketsu often gets translated into "twist" because traditionally it changes our understanding of the narrative, but it's more accurate to call it a "turn," since not all tens* are twists. With that said, though, the ten is actually "broader" in meaning than either of those writing terms. A ten can be any of the following things:
- a turning point
- a plot twist
- a reveal--a drop of information that changes ours or the characters' understanding of the situation (sometimes it may only be a reveal to the audience, not the characters)
- a change in point of view / which characters we are following
- a change in location or time
- a change in genre or tone
- something seemingly unrelated to the story thus far
For our post today, the important thing to understand is that it's typically some sort of unexpected change.
And if you feel like you need more examples of kishotenketsu, well . . . we'll have a lot of those below.
Kishotenketsu does not necessarily require high conflict and high stakes to be interesting. So it can be an excellent approach to make slice of life interesting.
In fact, it's so effective that Japan has an entire slice-of-life genre. You can find not just films, but entire series that are slice of life. It's perhaps where the genre is most popular.
Kishotenketsu Fractals
An important thing to understand for our topic today, is that kishotenketsu can work in fractals. A whole narrative arc--a whole story--can follow kishotenketsu. But so can acts, scenes, or beats within scenes.
In manga (which is just the Japanese word for "comic"), it's recommended that each chapter follow kishotenketsu structure. The manga Attack on Titan is a well-known example of this. For an example of how Dragon Ball Z Kai has fractals, you can go here.
If you are writing an entire story that is slice of life, then it's likely you'll want smaller kishotenketsu within your story, and throughout your story. Just using it for the whole narrative arc may not be enough to hold the audience.
And whether you are creating a slice-of-life plot or one slice-of-life scene, the power of kishotenketsu in these quiet moments can show up well in small units.
First, we will look at how it can make a slice-of-life scene more interesting through beats. (For those unfamiliar with the term "beat" in this context, a beat is essentially the structural unit that makes up scenes.)
Slice-of-Life Scene with Kishotenketsu Beats
Out of all Japanese media franchises, Dragon Ball (including its more popular sequels, Z, Super, and GT) is one of the most famous globally. In fact, the only two that rank higher are Pokemon and Hello Kitty--neither of which started as a story (Pokemon began as a video game, and Hello Kitty as apparel).
While Dragon Ball is not a slice-of-life story, it has slice-of-life scenes, sequences, and episodes.
If you are unfamiliar with the characters, in the beginning of the story, Goku is a child who has lived his whole life in the wilderness; the only other human he knew was his grandpa, who passed away when Goku was really little. This makes him naive. Bulma is a sixteen-year-old from "civilized" society; she recruited Goku in her adventures after running into him.
In the second episode, they settle down for the night, and we get a slice-of-life sequence that illustrates kishotenketsu rather well, but we'll just look at one scene.
Something you should know: Goku was born with a tail. (The story is based on an old Chinese one about a monkey, so this is a nod to that. Within Dragon Ball itself, we later learn this is because he's not actually human.)
Bath Scene (Original)
Ki introduces:
Bulma and Goku are inside her (portable) house for the night.
Sho builds:
Bulma: Hey, what's that horrible smell? Uugh, Goku! You need a bath!
Ten turns:
Goku (innocently): Uuuh, what's a bath?
(Notice this is an unexpected response that changes the situation)
Ketsu concludes:
Bulma (grossed out): Oh kid! I can't believe you are asking! . . . I guess I gotta show you . . .
Ki:
In the bathroom, Goku gets undressed and curiously picks up a towel, while Bulma gets the tub ready.
Sho:
Bulma: Us civilized people call that a "towel." Now let's get this over with. Hop in.
Slightly confused, Goku walks toward the tub.
Bulma (chastising): Look at you! You're supposed to cover up your front!
Ten:
Goku puts the towel over his face. Goku: Like this?
(This is an unexpected response; he has no concept of what she's referring to)
Ketsu:
Bulma groans, annoyed.
Ki:
Now that he's in the tub. Bulma washes his hair.
Sho:
Goku: Why are you putting this fluffy stuff in my hair?
Bulma: It's called shampoo, and I'm putting it in your hair to clean it. I don't do this very often, you know. You should consider yourself lucky. No wonder your hair stands up; it's never been washed.
She rinses him off, and he turns. She sees he still has his tail (up to this point, she thought it was something he wore, not something attached to him).
Bulma: Whoa, how does this thing stay on, kid? I thought it was attached to your pants. What did you do? Super glue it to your butt?
She pulls on it.
Goku: Ow, what are you doing? That hurts!
Bulma: I'm trying to take this thing off so I can wash your back properly.
Ten:
Goku: Here, that's okay. I can wash my own back.
Goku uses his tail to grab the scrubber and wash.
(To Bulma this is shocking and unexpected--she had no clue his tail was real)
Ketsu:
Goku: See? It's easy.
Bulma screams and reacts.
Bulma: No way! It moves. That means it's real.
Ki:
Goku dries off while Bulma sits down in shock.
Sho:
Bulma: Goku, why do you have a tail growing?
Ten:
Goku (innocently): Well, I don't really know why. I just know that all boys have them. It's no big deal. It's just the way we are.
(This is a completely unexpected response)
Ketsu:
Bulma (thinking): . . . maybe he's right. . . . I've never actually seen a boy take a bath before. Maybe they just keep them tucked in their pants or something. How bizarre.
Bulma (in dialogue): I can't believe I'm a teenager and just now finding this out?
Goku: Well, I guess I shouldn't say all boys, because my grandpa didn't have a tail.
Bulma (hopeful but unsure): See, see, so normal boys don't have tails, or your grandpa would have had one.
Goku: But my grandpa was a very odd fellow, you know.
Bulma: You're the real oddball.
Goku: So that was a bath, huh?
Bulma: A bath sounds so wonderful.
It's largely the tens that keep this slice-of-life scene interesting. Goku's unexpected responses change the situation and reel the audience back in.
Notice how the scene would not be nearly as interesting without the tens.
Bath Scene with No Tens
Ki:
Bulma and Goku are inside her (portable) house for the night.
Sho:
Bulma: Hey, what's that horrible smell? Uugh, Goku! You need a bath!
Ten:Goku: Yeah, good idea. Where can I wash up?
Ketsu:
Bulma: I'll get the water running.
Ki:
In the bathroom, Goku gets undressed and curiously picks up a towel, while Bulma readies the tub.
Sho:
Bulma: Us civilized people call that a "towel." Now let's get this over with. Hop in.
Goku walks toward the tub.
Bulma (chastising): Look at you! You're supposed to cover up your front!
Ten:Goku wraps the towel around his waist.
Ketsu:
Bulma: Better.
Ki:
Now that he's in the tub. Bulma washes his hair.
Sho:
Goku: Why are you putting this fluffy stuff in my hair?
Bulma: It's called shampoo, and I'm putting it in your hair to clean it. I don't do this very often, you know. You should consider yourself lucky. No wonder your hair stands up; it's never been washed.
She rinses him off, and he turns. She sees he still has his tail.
Bulma: Whoa, how does this thing stay on, kid? I thought it was attached to your pants. What did you do? Super glue it to your butt?
She pulls on it.
Goku: Ow, what are you doing? That hurts!
Bulma: I'm trying to take this thing off so I can wash your back properly.
Ten:Goku: Just wash around it.
Ketsu:
Bulma: . . . Okay . . . but next time, it's coming off.
When we remove the tens, the scene is less interesting.
Many writers would look at this scene and argue there is no conflict. Many Western writers who understand the importance of conflict, would likely write the scene more like this. . . .
Bath Scene ("Westernized")
Ki:
Bulma and Goku are inside her (portable) house for the night.
Sho:
Bulma: Hey, what's that horrible smell? Uugh, Goku! You need a bath!
Ten:
Goku: No way! I hate baths! I want to eat first.
Ketsu:
Bulma: You're not sitting at the table like that. Get in the tub!
Ki:
In the bathroom, Goku, still dressed, curiously picks up a towel, while Bulma gets the tub ready.
Sho:
Bulma: Us civilized people call that a "towel." Now let's get this over with. Hop in.
Goku backs toward the locked door.
Goku: I'm starving. I hate getting wet and water in my eyes.
Bulma: Goookuuuu! Get in the tub! Now!
Ten:
Goku holds onto the toilet.
Goku: No way!
Bulma: Get in. You're wasting the hot water.
Goku: I'm not going in there!
Bulma pulls on Goku, and he breaks the toilet.
Goku: Whoops!
Bulma: Look what you've done!
Ketsu:
Bulma forces him in the tub. (Really, this wouldn't happen because Goku is supernaturally strong, but it illustrates the point.)
Ki:
Now that he's in the tub. Bulma washes his hair.
Sho:
Goku: Uck! It's getting in my eyes.
Bulma: It's called shampoo, and I'm putting it in your hair to clean it.
Goku wipes it off and pulls away.
Bulma yanks him back and scrubs his scalp.
Bulma: Just stay still.
They struggle, and she rinses him off.
Goku: I'm clean now.
He moves to get out, but Bulma blocks him.
Bulma: I have to wash your back still.
Goku groans.
Bulma (seeing his tail): . . . Whoa, how does this thing stay on?
Goku: Ouch! Stop that.
Bulma: I need to take it off.
Goku pushes her away.
Goku: You can't.
Bulma reaches for it.
Ten:
Goku: No. It's fine! I'll wash my own back.
Goku uses his tail to grab the scrubber and wash.
Bulma stares in shock.
Ketsu:
Bulma: No way. It's real.
Goku: All clean.
Ki:
Goku dries off while Bulma sits down in shock.
Sho:
Bulma: Goku, why do you have a tail growing?
Goku: Because all boys have tails.
Bulma: What! That's not true.
Goku: Yes, it is.
Bulma: You're lying, kid. There's no way.
Ten:
Goku: Why would I lie? Grandpa said I was born with it.
Bulma: What? But . . . I'm a teenager and just now finding this out?
Goku: I guess I shouldn't say all boys though, because my grandpa didn't have one.
Bulma: See, see, so normal boys don't have tails.
Goku: But my grandpa was a very odd fellow.
Ketsu:
Bulma: You're the real oddball.
Goku: Let's eat.
This version isn't "wrong," and you could write a scene like this, but it's different. It changes Goku's character and reduces his naivety. It also pits Bulma and Goku against each other, altering their relationship somewhat. This increases conflict, which is often what Western writers go for, but it changes the tone, too. It probably wasn't what writer Akria Toriyama was going for.
Interestingly, the original version technically does have conflict--it's just "quieter" and less obvious.
Less Conflict Doesn't Mean No Conflict
A common misconception is that conflict needs to include anger, arguing, fighting, or violence. In reality, conflict is just a clash. It's what happens when a character has a goal and runs into resistance, opposition, or an obstacle. And technically, an "antagonist" is just something that opposes the character's goal.
In this scene, Bulma holds the goal. She wants Goku clean, so he doesn't reek up the place.
Even though they are friends and aren't fighting, Goku is still her antagonist, or more specifically, his naivety is. It's getting in the way of what she wants. If he wasn't naive, he could just go wash himself up. Problem solved.
The conflict is low and so are the stakes (all that's at risk is Bulma's sense of smell), but they technically aren't nonexistent.
Regardless though, it's really the tens that keep the audience most interested in the original.
When something unexpected happens, viewers want to see what happens next and how others react. With great tens you can keep slice of life interesting.
Next, we'll look at a completely different example and cover not just scenes, but acts and narrative arcs as well.
Slice-of-Life Scenes, Acts, and Narrative Arcs
When preparing for this post, I originally thought I'd use a Studio Ghibli example. After all, their work is famous and certainly has slice-of-life elements. But I decided to search online for the highest rated slice-of-life Japanese movie, and I landed on the award-winning film A Silent Voice (also known as The Shape of Voice).
This film has a 95% on Rotten Tomatoes, an 8.2 on IMDB, and a 4.9 on Crunchyroll. It won best animated film in the Japanese Movie Critics Awards and two Japan Academy Film Prizes (among other awards).
I also wanted to use it, in part, because it's a realistic slice-of-life story that is not lighthearted, comedic, or romantic (which is what we would typically expect). Additionally, it's an excellent example of how kishotenketsu is used in this genre.
The story follows Shoya Ishida, an isolated, lonely high schooler who plans to take his life, after making amends with those he's wronged. Back in sixth grade, Ishida bullied a deaf girl, Shoko Nishimiya, who had transferred into his class. She's the last person he needs to speak with.
After a brief introduction, the story backtracks to her first day in his class. Most of the scenes in this film are very short--the conflict is often low, which usually means shorter scenes (less beats); it's very difficult to sustain a scene for long if there is little or no conflict.
Most of the scenes follow kishotenketsu. Here is how some of the first few map out.
Slice-of-Life Scenes
First Day of Class
Ki:
Ishida sits in his sixth-grade class one morning when his teacher announces they have a new student.
Sho:
While Ishida's classmate, Ueno, expresses interest, Ishida couldn't care less.
Nishimiya walks in.
Their teacher asks her to introduce herself. Everyone waits in silence, but nothing happens.
The teacher taps Nishimiya's shoulder.
Ten:
Nishimiya opens her backpack and pulls out a notebook. Inside it, she has written an introduction of herself: "My name is Shoko Nishimiya. I would like to get to know you through this notebook. When you want to talk to me, please use this notebook.
"I can't hear."
(To the class members, this is completely unexpected and changes the situation.)
Ketsu:
Everyone, including Ishida, reacts in surprise.
Choir Class
Ki:
All the students are lined up in the music room.
Sho:
One student leads as a chorister, and another plays the piano.
Ten:
Nishimiya begins singing at the wrong time.
(This is completely unexpected and changes the situation)
Ketsu:
Everyone reacts to the mistake, and her different-sounding voice.
A class member taps Nishimiya on the shoulder and explains she will let Nishimiya know when to start singing.
In the back, Ueno remarks that with Nishimiya, they will lose the choir contest.
Reading Time
Ki:
In class, the students take turns reading aloud. Ueno starts.
Sho:
Unhappy with Ueno's reading, the teacher calls on Nishimiya next.
Nishimiya stands and reads. Some students (mildly) react to the way she reads and sounds.
The teacher calls on Ishida next.
Ten:
Ueno expresses annoyance that her reading got called out by the teacher, but not Nishimiya's.
Glancing at her, Ishida begins "reading" by making sounds that mock Nishimiya.
(This is unexpected.)
Ketsu:
The class members laugh, and the teacher tells Ishida to stop messing around
After School
Ki:
After school, the girls hang out in the playground, but it's clear Nishimiya is getting left behind.
Sho:
Ueno glances at her and tells the others they should go home.
Once they leave, Nishimiya lingers on the playground alone.
Ten:
Ishida throws a pebble at Nishimiya, and she assumes it's to get her attention.
Ishida remarks that at this rate, everyone is going to get fed up with her.
Nishimiya walks over and asks if they can be friends.
Ishida grabs a fistful of sand and throws it at her, yelling that she creeps him out.
(Each character does something the other isn't expecting.)
Ketsu:
Ishida walks away, and Nishimiya rubs off the dirt.
Not all of the scenes are this brief, but in a few short kishotenketsu, we get a sense for how things are going with this new student in class. The brevity and the tens keep the target audience interested. If neither of those things were there, it'd likely drag.
Slice-of-Life Act
As the scenes accumulate, they build a kishotenketsu for the first act.
Ki:
We are introduced to the key characters--Ishida, Nishimiya, Ueno, and some other classmates--and the situation--Nishimiya is a new student who is deaf, and prefers to communicate through a notebook.
Sho:
At first, class members show interest in getting to know her through this method. But eventually, it becomes an inconvenience, and classmates begin to distance themselves from her, then start to bully her. The bullying escalates, and eventually Ishida throws her notebook in the river. People begin stealing her hearing aids and messing around with them, even throwing them out the window.
One day, the principal speaks with the class, saying that Nishimiya's mother knows her hearing aids are going missing. He explains that hearing aids are very expensive, and her mother believes she's being bullied.
The teacher calls out Ishida as the culprit.
Ten:
Although Ishida was a participant, he was not the only bully. But in order to avoid the consequences, friends and classmates turn on him and frame him as the sole perpetrator.
Now Ishida begins to be bullied by his friends, instead.
After school one day, he sees Nishimiya by his desk and picks on her, taking out his anger and frustrations on her by yelling at her until she bites him. The fight turns physical.
(The fact his friends and classmates frame him, then bully him, is unexpected and changes the situation, and turns the act. It's also a "twist" in the sense that the bully has become the victim. The fact that Nishimiya bites him is a surprise as well, and the fight is the major turn of the whole first act.)
Ketsu:
The next day, the teacher announces that Nishimiya has changed schools (obviously a result of the fight).
Although there is no comedy, romance, or much lightheartedness, once again the tens keep the target audience interested. (And I'm sure, too, the conflict we do have helps as well.)
Slice-of-Life Narrative Arc
Kishotenketsu is used to structure the whole story as well.
Ki:
Essentially what happened above in Act I. It introduces the characters and situation.
Sho:
Ishida's reputation as a bully in sixth grade follows him all the way to high school; he's a lonely, suicidal outcast. Before taking his life, he finds Nishimiya at the hearing center and returns her ruined notebook (which he still had). As a formality, he asks if they can be friends.
At home, his mother confronts him about his plans, so Ishida promises not to act on them. But now still alive, he needs to make good on his promise to befriend Nishimiya. It's difficult and a little awkward at first, but they strike up a friendship.
As the story unfolds, several more relationships develop. Ishida helps a loner classmate who is being bullied, and they become friends as well. He also helps Nishimiya's sister when she (temporarily) runs away from home. Characters from the sixth-grade class start to reconnect, too. Unfortunately, though, Ueno still dislikes Nishimiya.
The group goes to a theme park, and when alone with Ishida, Ueno blames Nishimiya for everything that happened previously. If she had never shown up in their class, things would have never changed between everyone. She then insists on riding the Ferris wheel with Nishimiya. During the ride, Ueno openly blames her, and states they each hate each other.
Nishimiya reveals she does not hate Ueno, she hates herself.
The next day, the group falls out when one member reveals Ishida was originally Nishimiya's bully. Hurt, Ishida insults and pushes everyone in the group away, except for Nishimiya and her sister.
On summer vacation, he spends more and more time with them, but realizes that Nishimiya blames herself for everything that has happened to him.
Ten:
(Warning: Spoilers!)
Ishida attends a firework festival with Nishimiya and her family, but Nishimiya leaves early. When her sister asks Ishida to run to the house to grab her forgotten camera, Ishida walks into the high-rise apartment to see Nishimiya on the balcony, watching the fireworks.
During the display, Nishimiya climbs the half wall to jump.
Panicked, Ishida runs to save her.
He barely manages to hold onto her as she dangles on the side of the building.
Ishida prays for strength and begs Nishimiya to grab the railing, as he struggles to hold onto her.
Eventually, she does, but Ishida loses his balance.
And he falls from the building instead.
(The ten of course, comes from the fact Nishimiya, not Ishida, is the one who attempts suicide, and tragically, Ishida accidentally falls from the building instead.)
Ketsu:
Ishida survives, but is in the hospital in a coma.
Later, enraged, Ueno attacks Nishimiya, who has a breakdown and blames herself for everything. She feels she has destroyed what Ishida had worked so hard to create--the social connections between everyone. She is determined to try to restore the situation on his behalf, and makes efforts to reach out to everyone in the group.
One night, she has a dream about Ishida's accident. Upset, she runs to the bridge and cries. Ishida wakes from his coma and finds her.
He apologizes for everything that has happened, his bullying and treatment of others. He tells her not to blame herself for how his life has turned out, and reveals he had previously planned to take his own life, as well. He reconfirms their friendship, and asks if she'll help him keep on living.
When Ishida attends the school festival with Nishimiya, he sees how much his friends still care about him, despite how he'd pushed them away. They reunite, and with loved ones in his life, he no longer feels alone or outcast.
Criticism of Slice of Life
While slice of life obviously has an audience, a full-blown slice-of-life story is not for everyone. And while kishotenketsu can help a slice of life stay interesting, it may never be interesting to the wrong audience. Critics of this genre often argue "nothing happens" and ask "Where's the plot?" Regardless of the content or structure, they may find the slow pace and low conflict uninteresting. This can make slice of life quite polarizing.
Most stories feature an external plotline--the protagonist pursuing one or more concrete goals. This makes up the "A Story." It's often what people think of, when they think of "plot." In a slice of life, though, the focus is usually more on the characters and their relationships. In other words, it's usually more focused on the internal journey and/or a relationship journey. Typically it's a relationship arc that makes up the primary plot (the A Story).
Often when this happens, an external plotline will become the B Story (so they swap spots). Yet in watching some slice of life, I've found that sometimes the secondary plotlines are also relationship plots. This narrows the audience, as, theoretically, viewers and readers want an external, internal, and relationship plotline (typically). Viewers looking for the external, will feel like the story is "off" and get restless.
Slice of life often aims to be realistic, which means sometimes including moments that don't seem "meaningful" and may even feel like filler. In summarizing A Silent Voice, I tried to focus on the throughline--the main relationship arc--but there were parts that felt fragmented to me, as they didn't really lead to much. With that said, though, this did give the story a "true-to-life" feel, like I was watching Ishida's real life. In the slice-of-life film Silent Walking, much of what happens in it could be argued to be filler (and the editor in me wanted to make a lot of cuts).
Of course, not all slice of life is this way. But these are some generalizations related to the genre (particularly in Japan). There are also some cultural differences in the East and the West as to what is acceptable.
I probably wouldn't recommend that most Westerners write a pure slice-of-life story for many of these reasons. I'd likely suggest they combine it with comedy or romance or something else. However, if this is what you really want to create, then don't let me stop you.
If you want to include a slice-of-life scene, sequence, or whole act, it's (of course) best to integrate it into the story (it's even better if it's "needed" in the story).
Just because it's "mundane" doesn't mean it automatically gets a pass on progressing the narrative.
In the Dragon Ball example above, the situation may be slice of life, but the scene is also working to establish a new "normal"--what life will be like in this unlikely partnership. It also reveals character: Goku is even more naive than anyone realized. And it highlights significant differences in the relationship. Plus, it's humorous, and therefore entertaining. If the scene had none of that, it wouldn't be effective.
There is admittedly more we could go into here, but . . . I'll leave it there for now. 😉
Eastern vs. Western Slice of Life
After studying kishotenketsu and watching Japanese slice of life, I decided to turn to some Western slice of life to see how it compared. The first places I looked were Napoleon Dynamite and Seinfeld (a self-proclaimed show "about nothing.") Mainly, I was curious to see if they (unwittingly) followed kishotenketsu, because while the structure is East Asian, it has appeared in the Western world--we just didn't have a name for it.
While I think you can argue most stories fit kishotenketsu when it comes to the narrative arc (kishotenketsu is a pretty "loose" structure in that sense), when it comes to the acts and scenes . . . I wasn't exactly seeing it, at least not very clearly or consistently.
However, its main principle often remained intact--which was to introduce a ten (or usually tens): something unexpected that changes the situation.
We can consider the opening scene of Napoleon Dynamite and find similarities. Napoleon boards the bus. A kid asks him what he's going to do today. Napoleon replies, "Whatever I feel like I want to do. Gosh!" Then he pulls out an action figure with string tied to it, and throws it out the window, so it'll drag behind the bus. This is unexpected, even absurd, and would certainly qualify as a ten. We could even argue this particular scene follows kishotenketsu.
But watching on, and watching Seinfeld, I could see this was not always the case.
The differences I noted were that often in Napoleon Dynamite and Seinfeld, there were multiple absurd moments (or "tens") sort of happening, and there wasn't necessarily like . . . a "build up" to the "ten," like we typically see in kishotenketsu. In kishotenketsu, the ki and sho set up like a baseline or "tone" that the ten can then disrupt and change.
I also noticed that the scenes in these Western stories were often interweaving several plotlines or plot "threads" at once. I seemed to see less of that in the Eastern stories. Perhaps because the ki and sho are used to set up that baseline, and if too much is thrown in, it would affect that.
But in reality . . . I'd probably need to do more research on this.
Regardless, it's clear kishotenketsu can help create interesting slice-of-life scenes, sequences, acts, and narrative arcs. Maybe you'll want to try it out yourself.
(*FYI I'm coining the word "tens" for plural ten, for clarity. I'm aware that Japanese does not handle plurals the way English does.)
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