The four parts are ki (introduction), shō (development), ten (the turn), and ketsu (the reconciliation). The distinguishing feature is ten: something arrives that has not been set up as an opposing force, and the final part is the audience understanding how it relates to what came before. Nobody has to fight anybody.
This matters commercially because a great deal of brand work has no antagonist and no conflict available to it, and forcing one produces the manufactured-problem advert that everybody recognises and nobody believes. Kishōtenketsu gives you a structure that holds attention without inventing an enemy.
It is also the native structure of the four-panel comic and of a large share of what performs well in short-form video: setup, development, unexpected cut, and the beat where it lands. If a piece works and you cannot find its conflict, this is usually the shape it is in.
What does kishōtenketsu mean?
It names its four parts: introduction, development, turn and reconciliation. The third part introduces something unexpected, and the fourth makes sense of it against the first two.
Can you tell a story without conflict?
Yes. Kishōtenketsu builds on juxtaposition rather than opposition. It is a better fit than three-act structure for brand films with no available antagonist, where inventing one reads as false.