Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan

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Offerings and Covenants Nov 16, 2025

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This episode we cover the first silver mine in Japan, as well as the way that this sovereign is approaching offerings to the kami and handling family matters. For more check out: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-138 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 138: Offerings and Covenants A gentle summer breeze blew through the cherry-tree-covered hills of Yoshino valley. The royal residence, a kind of summer home for the royal family, normally somewhat quiet, was suddenly abuzz with activity. The regular groundskeepers and those who tended the site throughout the year mingled with servants sent from the capital to make it ready for a royal visit. Rooms were aired out and swept. Metal fixtures were polished. The kitchen was stocked and ready to go. It had been some years since the prince—now sovereign—had resided in the valley as an attempt to proclaim he had retired from the world. Now he was sitting at the top of the state government, but as such, he was more often than not living in the grand palace in Asuka, which he had renovated at the start of his reign. This, the Yoshino palace, was left as more of a vacation home—though "home" hardly did it justice given its majesty compared to the meager dwellings that otherwise surrounded it. And now there was a massive royal procession on their way. Sure, it was the sovereign and his queen, and only a handful of princes, but they would each need their own quarters and likely have their own household staff that would no doubt need to be fed and housed. In such a way a "simple" outing for the royal family was so often anything but for those who had to make it happen. And yet, such labor was much preferred to toiling in the fields, especially as the heat of the day started to rise, and the height of summer loomed large in the all-too-immediate future. Alright, so we are in the midst of the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, the brother of Naka no Ohoe, who came to power through the use of military force—purportedly used in self-defense—and the sovereign who would have a profound effect on solidifying the Ritsuryo state, as well as the Chronicles and the history of the archipelago as we know it. We've talked about Ohoama's ascension to the throne, and even his first year. We mentioned how, during his reign, he rewarded those who helped him, tweaked the rank system, and we talked a bit about what we know of the clothing and the material culture of the period. This episode, we continue looking at what occurred during Ohoama's reign. Specifically we'll be covering some of the ways in which Ohoama and his court were shaping the government and the structures of power to serve him and his family. This includes everything from ritual, such as making offerings to various kami, to the way that he seems to have centralized power to himself and his family, which would have lasting impacts through the Asuka and Nara periods. First, though, a tiny little digression about silver. We start in the 3rd lunar month of the second year since Ohoama ascended the throne, or the year 674 by the western calendar. We are told that Woshiumi no Miyatsuko no Ohokuni, the governor of Tsushima, the island that formed the main border between the archipelago and the mainland, reported that silver had been produced there for the first time, and sent in some as tribute. This is the first recorded instance of silver being produced in Japan. At this time, silver mining was mostly limited to finding a vein of silver on the surface and digging it out as far as one could possibly go into the rock and stone. Still, silver would eventually become an important resource for the archipelago. Tsushima would continue to produce silver through modern times. Granted, production was limited until new refining techniques were introduced from Joseon Korea in the 16th century. This was just as Ming dynasty deposits were declining, and as such, silver would become a major export from the archipelago to the mainland. Indeed, by the 17th century, it is said that Japan accounted for one quarter to one third of the entire world's silver production. For now, however, the discovery of native silver was certainly a good start, but the Yamato court wasn't switching to a silver coin currency just yet—rice and cloth were still the major currencies for tax and trade purposes. Still this find seems not insignificant, and clearly the chroniclers thought so as well -- as did the court. They granted Ohokuni, the governor of Tsushima, the rank of Lower Shoukin. The silver produced by the mine was offered to the various kami of heaven and earth, and presents were made to the high ministers and others of the rank of Shoukin and above. Now back to the Chronicles, and to the meat of what I'll be talking about this episode. On the 3rd day of the 8th lunar month of 674, we are told that the Royal Prince Wosakabe was sent to Isonokami shrine to polish up the divine treasures, at which point the sovereign made a rather spectacular decree: he declared that all of the precious things originally deposited in the sacred treasuries by the various houses should be returned to their descendants. This appears to be a reference to the long-standing practice by Yamato of demanding that those they had gained some level of hegemony over turn over their sacred objects for Yamato's keeping. We talked about this back in episodes 19 and 29, for example, when we talked about how Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tenno, and Ikume Iribiko, aka Suinin Tenno, had both requested treasures from Izumo and elsewhere, to be stored in the treasure house of Isonokami. We aren't told what all of these treasures were, but we can deduce that these were sacred treasures of the different houses and localities, much as the mirror, jewel, and sword were sacred treasures of Yamato. These were items that early on distinguished the elite class in the archipelago, and had come to be gathered in the divine store houses. You may recall how, early on, we saw mentions in the Chroncles that ships sent out to meet with others from different lands would place such treasures on a makeshift tree on the deck as a way of depicting who they were—who they represented. It would seem that these sacred objects came to represent the divine ancestors of the elites, and so eventually were associated with the idea of power and authority. As Yamato spread its influence, possibly as much through the spiritual authority of Mt. Miwa as through its economic and military capability, it seems to have demanded that the various lands that came under its sway place their sacred treasures in Yamato's storehouse—a powerful image of Yamato's authority. In a sense, this was a kind of hostage situation: recognize our authority, or your most sacred treasures, representing your ancestors, will be at risk . One wonders if this isn't part of the reason that we find buried caches of bronze ritual items, including weapons, bells, and other such things, perhaps as a means of keeping them safe from those who would steal them away. However, in the new era of the Ritsuryo system, those objects, while still considered divine and sacred, did not hold the same value as they once had. Perhaps I'm reading too much into it, but this really seems to me to be particularly illustrative of the idea that the cultural imaginary of state power and authority had shifted. Yamato's power and authority was no longer based on its role as a spiritual powerhouse as much as it was centered on the continental framework of a heavenly mandate and a system of laws and punishments. And so, the sovereign could return the sacred items back to their descendants, because to do so did not cost him anything, and at the same time would no doubt earn him goodwill. He could appear magnanimous and, in so doing, solidify his position as the supreme hegemon of this new state. In many ways this acknowledged the importance of the divine treasures to the people and to the kami while also no doubt reinforcing Confucian stereotypes of the benevolent ruler. More importantly, this shows how Ohoama was restructuring the rituals of the state. After all, he had the Jingikan, an entire governmental department dedicated to administering the various shrines and sacred rituals; so even if the sacred treasures were returned, they were still technically under the control of the state apparatus. We've already talked about the Daijosai, the Feast of First Fruits for a new reign, a central ritual to which Ohoama had added further pomp and circumstance. But as no less a scholar than Herman Ooms has written about, Ohoama also initiated the practice of ordering regular centralized offerings to not just one particular kami, but to several or even a number of kami, or shrines, at any given time. We see this in the following year, on the 23rd day of the first lunar month of 675, in an almost off-hand remark. Later, in the 10th month of 676 offerings were made to all of the "Ahimbe" kami of Heaven and Earth—that is all of kami that were part of the festival of first fruits held on the first day of the rabbit on the 11th lunar month. Offerings were also made to all of the Heavenly and Earthly kami on the second day of the year in 681. Of course, these offerings would not just be enriching the shrines of these various kami, but it would also reflect on the various uji connected to each of those shrines, as well. Another example of the court's involvement in these ritual innovations appears to be the worship of the deities at Tatsuta and Hirose. The first example of that is also in 675, in the 4th month of that year. Prince Mino and Saheki no Muraji no Hirotari were sent to the Wind-gods at Tateno, in Tatsuta. Aston notes that there is a litany to the Wind-gods mentioned in the Engishiki, a 10th century collection of information on various rituals of the time, so this practice seems to have taken hold, at least enough to persist over 3 centuries later. Also in the 4th month of 675, Hashibito no Muraji no Ohobuta and Sone no Muraji no Karainu were sent to worship the Oho-imi deity at Kahawa, in Hirose. The Oho-imi appears to be a "big abstinence" deity, whom Aston identifies with Waka'ukahime, responsible for food. Worship is again paid twice in the year 676, once in 677, then twice again in 679, continuing twice a year, almost exclusively in the 4th and 7th lunar months, through the end of the reign. Why were these particular deities chosen for special worship by the court? Ooms notes that these shrines were built downstream along the Yamato river, which, along with its tributaries, was responsible for the irrigation of the crops in the Nara basin. This mirrors, in some ways, the responsibility of rulers in the Yellow River and Yangzi river regions to help ensure the flow of the rivers while preventing devastating flooding – a very continental idea of the responsibilities of the sovereign, though expressed here with a particularly Japanese style. Indeed, Aston associates the deity at Hirose, with the deity of food. Likewise, the Wind-deities at Tatsuta were also related to helping to grow crops. After all, Tatsuta would have been situated near the break in the mountains that surrounds the Nara basin, where the Yamato River flows out towards the Kawachi plain. As anyone who lives near a mountain gap is no doubt familiar, those areas are notorious for channeling weather phenomena, including storms, which can bring rain, but could also bring terrible winds. So it does seem a natural point to pray for good weather for your harvest or otherwise, given the geography that made up the sovereign's world. We also have, in this reign, considerably more discussion of Ise than we've seen, previously. In 673 we have the Royal Princess Ohoku no Himemiko entering the Saigu, the Abstinence, or Purification, Palace, where she was to be purified before going to Ise, which she did in the 10th lunar month of 674. Ohoku is said to have been the first official Saiou, the unmarried royal princess sent to oversee shrine operations, of Ise Shrine. This is a practice we see at multiple shrines, although it's most prominent at Ise. The term for the position in general is Saiou, although at Ise the royal princess would also be known as the Saiguu, after the purification palace. Although Ohoku is said to have been the first Saiguu at Ise, this is muddied somewhat by some earlier mentions in the Chronicles. There are those who are said to have been sent as Shrine Princesses to Ise back in the time of Mimaki Iribiko and Ikume Iribiko, but the process was largely discontinued—or at least rarely mentioned—until this period. There are certainly several named individuals who are said to have served the Deity of Ise previously, starting with the presumably mythical Yamato Hime, who is credited with founding the shrine. There are also various royal princesses are noted as either having served or as having been made ineligible due to their indiscretions. However, those earlier mentions rarely go into the detail we see here —starting with the abstinence hall, where the would-be Shrine Princess must purify herself prior to approaching the shrine, a process that took some time. Certainly we first really see this put into action with Ohoku, and from that time the position of Saiguu or Saiou at Ise does appear to have been regularly filled. That Ohoku was actually the first "Saiguu" shrine princess appears to be confirmed by the "Fusou Ryakki", which states that the first Saiou was appointed when then Prince Ohoama, in the midst of the Jinshin war, made a prayer to Ise and offered the royal princess Ohoku no Himemiko in exchange for victory. In fact, a lot of the focus on Ise seems to stem from its apparent involvement, at the behest of either Ohoama or his consort, Uno no Sarara Hime, in the conflict. The following year we are told that the Royal Princesses Towochi and Abe proceeded to Ise Shrine as well, though presumably just for a brief visit. Towochi, you may recall, was Ohoama's daughter who had been married to Ohotomo, aka Koubun Tennou, whom Ohoama had defeated to take the throne. Abe was a daughter of Naka no Oe, half-sister to Ohoama's queen, Uno, and would eventually go on to marry the Crown Prince, Kusakabe. That gives you some idea of the position of those were going to the shrine. Princess Towochi herself would fall ill a few years later in 678. In fact, it was just as the sovereign himself was preparing to go pay a visit to the abstinence palace, perhaps so that he could also head out to Ise. The court had a divination to figure out when he would leave, officers had cleared the roads, and the public functionaries were in a line of procession when word came that Princess Towochi, suddenly took ill and died within the palace. This stopped everything in its tracks, and in that year there was no sacrifice made to the kami of heaven and earth. I suspect that this was in part due to mourning and in part due to the pollution more generally associated with death. Two weeks later, she was buried at Akaho, and Ohoama raised a lament for her. Later, in 686, we are told that the Royal Princess Taki, the Princess Yamashiro no Hime, and the Lady Ishikawa were all sent to Ise Shrine, though Princess Taki returned in less than a fortnight. Why all this focus on Ise? Remember that the Chronicles were begun in this era, and so the "truth" they would tell would be the truth that Ohoama and his immediate successors orchestrated. The focus on Amaterasu, her shrine at Ise, and the role of the sovereign as Heavenly Descendant was thus part of the overarching narrative that the Chroniclers tried to promote. Still, hints that the focus on Ise shrine may have been something largely crea…

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Courtly Fashion Nov 01, 2025

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This episode we start to get more into the material culture of the period with court fashion, as we look at the court robes that went along with the updated court ranks. Granted, we only have a few resources, but from those it does seem like we can construct at least a plausible idea of what the court may have looked like at this time. For more discussion, check out the blogpost: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-137 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 137: Courtly Fashion. In the New Year's ceremony, the court officials lined up in front of the Kiyomihara Palace, arranged by their relative court rank, dressed in their assigned court robes. The effect was impressive—the rows of officials painting the courtyard like the bands of color in a rainbow, albeit one with only a couple of hues. The fact that they were all wearing the same style of dress and black, stiffened gauze hats only added to the effect. The individual officers were all but lost in what was, at least in outward form, a single, homogenous machine of government, just waiting for the command of their monarch to attend to the important matters of state. We are covering the reign of Ohoama no Ohokimi, aka Ama no Nunahara oki no mabito no Sumera no Mikoto, aka Temmu Tennou. Last episode we went over the changes he had made to the family titles—the kabane—as well as to the courtly rank system. For the former, he had consolidated the myriad kabane and traditional titles across Yamato into a series of eight—the Yakusa no Kabane. These were, from highest to lowest: Mabito, Asomi, Sukune, Imiki, Michinoshi, Omi, Muraji, and Inaki. By the way, you might notice that "Mabito" actually occurs in Ohoama's posthumous name: Ama no Nunahara oki no mabito, which lends more credence to the idea that that kabane was for those with a special connection to the royal lineage. Besides simplifying and restructuring the kabane, Ohoama also reformed the court rank system. He divided the Princely ranks into two categories: Myou, or Bright, and Jou, or Pure. For the court nobles the categories were: Shou – Upright Jiki – Straight Gon – Diligent Mu – Earnest Tsui – Pursue Shin – Advancement Each category was further divided into four grades (except for the very first princely category, Myou, which was only two). Each grade was then further divided into large, "dai", or broad, "kou". And this brings us to our topic today. Along with this new rank system, Ohoama's administration also instituted a new set of court sumptuary laws. Some are vague in the record—we can just make assumptions for what is going on based on what we know from later fashion choices. Others are a little more clear. We'll take a look at those sumptuary laws, particularly those that were directly associated with the new court rank system, but we'll also look at the clothing styles more generally. To start with, let's talk about what we know about clothing in the archipelago in general. Unfortunately, fabric doesn't tend to survive very well in the generally acidic soils of the Japanese archipelago. Cloth tends to break down pretty quickly. That said, we have fragments here and there and impressions in pottery, so we have some idea that there was some kind of woven fabric from which to make clothing out of. And before I go too far I want to give a shout out to the amazing people at the Kyoto Costume Museum. They have a tremendous website and I will link to it in the comments. While there may be some debate over particular interpretations of historical clothing, it is an excellent resource to get a feel for what we know of the fashion of the various periods. I'll also plug our own website, SengokuDaimyo.com, which has a "Clothing and Accessory" section that, while more geared towards Heian and later periods, may still be of some use in looking up particular terms and getting to know the clothing and outfits. At the farthest reaches of pre-history, we really don't have a lot of information for clothing. There is evidence of woven goods in the Jomon period, and we have Yayoi burials with bits of cloth here and there, but these are all scraps. So at best we have some conjecture as to what people were wearing, and possibly some ability to look across the Korean peninsula and see what people had, there. There are scant to no reliable records from early on in Japanese history, and most of those don't really do a great job of describing the clothing. Even where we do get something, like the Weizhi, one has to wonder given how they tended to crib notes from other entries. There is at least one picture scroll of interest: Portraits of Periodical Offering of Liang, or Liáng -Zhígòngtú. It is said to have been painted by Xiao Yi in the early 6th century, and while the original no longer exists there is an 11th century copy from the time of the Song Dynasty. The scroll shows various ambassadors to the Liang court, including one from Wa. The Wa ambassador is shown with what appears to be a wide piece of cloth around his hips and legs, tied in front. His lower legs are covered in what we might call kyahan today: a rather simple wrap around leg from below the knee to the foot. He has another, blue piece of cloth around his shoulders, almost like a shawl, and it is also tied in front. Then there is a cloth wrapped and tied around his head. It's hard to know how much of this depiction is accurate and how much the artist was drawing on memory and descriptions from things like the Weizhi or Wei Chronicles, which stated that the Wa people wore wide cloths wrapped around and seamlessly tied As such, it may be more helpful to look at depictions actually from the archipelago: specifically, some of the human-figured haniwa, those clay cylinders and statues that adorned the burial mounds which gave the kofun period its name. Some of these haniwa are fairly detailed, and we can see ties, collars, and similar features of clothing. These haniwa primarily seem to cluster towards the end of the Kofun period, in the later 6th century, so it is hard to say how much they can be used for earlier periods, though that is exactly what you will typically see for periods where we have little to know evidence. I'm also not sure how regional certain fashions might have been, and we could very much be suffering from survivorship bias—that is we only know what survived and assume that was everything, or even the majority. Still, it is something. Much of what we see in these figures is some kind of upper garment that has relatively tight sleeves, like a modern shirt or jacket might have, with the front pieces overlapping create a V-shaped neckline. The garment hem often hangs down to just above the knee, flaring out away from the body, and it's held closed with ties and some kind of belt, possibly leather in some cases, and in others it looks like a tied loop of cloth. There is evidence of a kind of trouser, with two legs, and we see ties around the knee. In some cases, they even have small bells hanging from the ties. Presumably the trousers might have ties up towards the waist, but we cannot see that in the examples we have. We also see individuals who have no evidence of any kind of bifurcated lower garment. That may indicate an underskirt of some kind, or possibly what's called a "mo"—but it could also be just a simplification for stability, since a haniwa has a cylindrical base anyway. It is not always obvious when you are looking at a haniwa figure whether it depicts a man or woman: in some cases there are two dots on the chest that seem to make it obvious, but the haniwa do come from different artisans in different regions, so there is a lot of variability. We also see evidence of what seem to be decorative sashes that are worn across the body, though not in all cases. There are various types of headgear and hairstyles. Wide-brimmed and domed hats are not uncommon, and we also see combs and elaborate hairstyles depicted. On some occasions we can even see that they had closed toed shoes. For accessories, we see haniwa wearing jewelry, including necklaces (worn by both men and women), bracelets, and earrings. In terms of actual human jewelry, early shell bracelets demonstrate trade routes, and the distinctive magatama, or comma shaped jewel, can be found in the archipelago and on the Korean peninsula, where it is known as "gogok". Based on lines or even colored pigment on the haniwa, it appears that many of these outfits were actually quite heavily decorated. Paint on the outfits is sometimes also placed on the face, suggesting that they either painted or tattooed themselves, something mentioned in the Wei Chronicles. We also have archaeological examples of dyed cloth, so it is interesting that people are often depicted in undyed clothing. There is one haniwa that I find particularly interesting, because they appear to be wearing more of a round-necked garment, and they have a hat that is reminiscent of the phrygian cap: a conical cap with the top bent forward. These are traits common to some of the Sogdians and other Persian merchants along the silk road, raising the possibility that it is meant to depict a foreigner, though it is also possible that it was just another local style. If we compare this to the continent, we can see some immediate difference. In the contemporaneous Sui dynasty, we can see long flowing robes, with large sleeves for men and women. The shoes often had an upturned placket that appears to have been useful to prevent one from tripping on long, flowing garments. Many of these outfits were also of the v-neck variety, with two overlapping pieces, though it is often shown held together with a fabric belt that is tied in front. The hats appear to either be a kind of loose piece of fabric, often described as a turban, wrapped around the head, the ends where it ties together trailing behind, or black lacquered crowns—though there were also some fairly elaborate pieces for the sovereign. As Yamato started to import continental philosophy, governance, and religion, they would also start to pick up on continental fashion. This seems particularly true as they adopted the continental concept of "cap rank" or "kan-i". Let's go over what we know about this system, from its first mention in the Chronicles up to where we are in Ohoama's reign. As a caveat, there is a lot we don't know about the details of these garments, but we can make some guesses. The first twelve cap-ranks, theoretically established in 603, are somewhat questionable in their historicity, as are so many things related to Shotoku Taishi. And their names are clearly based on Confucian values: Virtue, Humanity, Propriety, Faith, Justice, and Wisdom, or Toku, Nin, Rei, Shin, Gi, and Chi. The five values and then just "Virtue", itself. The existence of this system does seem to be confirmed by the Sui Shu, the Book of Sui, which includes a note in the section on the country of Wa that they used a 12 rank system based on the Confucian values, but those values were given in the traditional Confucian order vice the order given in the Nihon Shoki. The rank system of the contemporaneous Sui and Tang dynasties was different from these 12 ranks, suggesting that the Yamato system either came from older dynasties—perhaps from works on the Han dynasty or the Northern and Southern Dynasty, periods—or they got it from their neighbors, Baekje, Silla, and Goguryeo. There does seem to be a common thread, though, that court rank was identifiable in one's clothes. As for the caps themselves, what did they look like? One would assume that the Yamato court just adopted a continental style cap, and yet, which one? It isn't fully described, and there are a number of types of headwear that we see in the various continental courts. Given that, we aren't entirely sure exactly what it looked like, but we do have a couple of sources that we can look at and use to make some assumptions. These sources l ead us to the idea of a round, colored cap made of fabric, around the brim that was probably the fabric or image prescribed for that rank. It is also often depicted with a bulbous top, likely for the wearer's hair, and may have been tied to their top knot. Our main source for this is the Tenjukoku Mandala Embroidery (Tenjukoku-mandara-shuuchou) at Chuuguuji temple, which was a temple built for the mother of Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi. This embroidery was created in 622, so 19 years after the 12 ranks would have been implemented. It depicts individuals in round-necked jackets that appear to have a part straight down the center. Beneath the jacket one can see a pleated hem, possibly something like a "hirami", a wrapped skirt that is still found in some ceremonial imperial robes. It strikes me that this could also be the hem of something like the hanpi, which was kind of like a vest with a pleated lower edge. Below that we see trousers—hakama—with a red colored hem—at least on one figure that we can see. He also appears to be wearing a kind of slipper-like shoe. As for the women, there are a few that appear to be in the mandala, but it is hard to say for certain as the embroidery has been damaged over the years. That said, from what we can tell, women probably would have worn something similar to the men in terms of the jacket and the pleated under-skirt, but then, instead of hakama, we see a pleated full-length skirt, or mo. We also don't have a lot of evidence for them wearing hats or anything like that. The round necked jacket is interesting as it appears to be similar to the hou that was common from northern China across the Silk Road, especially amongst foreigners. This garment came to displace the traditional robes of the Tang court and would become the basis for much of the court clothing from that period, onwards. The round necked garment had central panels that overlapped, and small ties or fastenings at either side of the neck to allow for an entirely enclosed neckline. This was more intricate than just two, straight collars, and so may have taken time to adopt, fully. The next change to the cap-rank system was made in 647, two years into the Taika Reform. The ranks then were more directly named for the caps, or crowns—kanmuri—and their materials and colors. The ranks translate to Woven, Embroidered, Purple, Brocade, Blue, Black, and finally "Establish Valor" for the entry level rank. The system gets updated two years later, but only slightly. We still see a reference to Woven stuff, Embroidery, and Purple, but then the next several ranks change to Flower, Mountain, and Tiger—or possibly Kingfisher. These were a little more removed from the cap color and material, and may have had something to do with designs that were meant to be embroidered on the cap or on the robes in some way, though that is just speculation based on later Ming and Qing court outfits. Naka no Ohoye then updates it again in 664, but again only a little. He seems to add back in the "brocade" category, swapping out the "flower", and otherwise just adds extra grades within each category to expand to 26 total rank grades. And that brings us to the reforms of 685, mentioned last episode. This new system was built around what appear to be moral exhortations—Upright, Straight, Diligent, Earnest, etc. And that is great and all, but how does that match up with the official robes? What color goes with each rank category? Fortunately, this time around, the Chronicle lays it out for us pretty clearly. First off we are given the color red for the Princely ranks—not purple as one might have thought. Specifically, it is "Vermillion Flower", hanezu-iro, which Bentley translates as the color of…

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Kabane and Court Rank Oct 16, 2025

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This episode looks at the Kabane and Court Rank systems in light of the changes made during this reign, in 684 and 685. We go a bit more in depth on the kabane, what they were, and how they were organized, prior to the reorganization that took place at the end of the 8th century into just 8 kabane, total. For more, check out our blogpost: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-136 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 136: Kabane and Court Rank Mononobe no Muraji no Ujimaro was in a foul mood. Once more he had been passed over for promotion, and so he continued to toil away, tallying reports as they came in from the various provinces across the kingdom. Meanwhile, Hasama no Atahe no Woshibi was now his superior, with an exalted rank and the generous stipend that came with it. Ujimaro fumed—he was Mononobe, and his family had once all but ruled Yamato. Though they had been perhaps reduced in circumstances since then, they still proudly held to their place as a Muraji family—a distinction that demonstrated their superior pedigree. Meanwhile, Woshibi was from the Hasama family. Sure, his relative, Nemaro, had been one of those on the front lines in the recent conflict, but still, his family was only atahe. Honestly, a Mononobe was supposed to take orders from someone of an Atahe family? But this was the new way of things. The ancient traditions were no longer enough—you had to work hard and make sure way up through this new court rank system if you wanted to succeed. Ujimaro grumbled, but there was little he could do in the moment. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but think about how the natural order of the world was somehow turned upside down… Greetings and welcome back, everyone. We are working our way through the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou. This reign spanned fourteen years, if you include the Jinshin year of 672, though it is broken into two narratives in the Nihon Shoki. The first chapter covers the year of the disturbance, the Jinshin no Ran, when Ohoama fought with the Afumi court, who supported his nephew, Ohotomo, on the throne. We've covered that turbulent period previously. The second chapter covers the other 13 years of Ohoama's reign. Last episode we covered the first year of Ohoama sitting properly on the throne. The year 673 included Ohoama's ascension; the confirmation, continuation, and evolution of the Ritsuryou system instituted during Naka no Oe's time; as well as various ceremonies around Ohoama's ascension to the throne, including the first verifiable "Daijosai", the specialized harvest ceremony for the first harvest season of the reign. This episode we are going to try and tackle something that people have sent in questions about. We've touched on it here and there, but I really want to get into the Kabane system—that ancient practice of family titles that were like a collective rank system. It was during Ohoama's reign that the court made major reforms to the kabane system and restructured it pretty extensively. At the same time, the kabane system was gradually being replaced by other systems of displaying one's status in society—such as the court rank system, which was also revised this reign. Eventually, without the same purpose as before, kabane would fade away, with a few remaining as honorifics and titles, but at this point they were still important. So we'll get into both of these status systems and discuss a little bit about what that meant for the people of the late 7th century court. From the beginning of Ohoama's reign, the court had continued to implement the cap-rank system, most recently amended in 664, by Ohoama's brother, Naka no Ohoye. With the new rank system of 685, the format changed considerably. To better understand this, let's talk about the rank systems in Yamato and how we have gotten to this point. We'll want to start with the kabane, and to do that, I want to take us back to a much earlier time. As you may recall, in the oldest stories in the Nihon Shoki, the Kojiki, and the Sendai Kuji Hongi, most individuals only have a single name, or they are known by the name of a location and a title. Iware Hiko, for example, with Hiko and Hime being general masculine and feminine terms for elites from a given area. From this, it would appear as though there was no such thing as a "family" name in early Wa societies. As I've pointed out before, that does not mean that there were not families, of course, or that lineage and family relationships were not important; we do see familial relationships, and we see concepts of lateral inheritance—from brother to brother rather than necessarily from father to son. The rules behind such inheritance seem to have been rather malleable, however. And that all makes some sense in a society where most people are dealing with the people of their village and surrounding communities—there is no need for anything more than a given name. Otherwise one's place of origin or their profession could easily be used to identify any given individual. Even the elites would be known by the territory they control. I mention all of this because some of the earliest terms we see as "kabane" appear to be titular in nature—that is to say they are derived from ancient titles. Hiko, Hime, Wake, Mimi, and Ushi are all terms we see from the ancient past, commonly found in the names of sovereigns, among other things. It isn't until some time in about the 5th century that we start to see the family units arise. These started as something like a corporate group or guild: Those who looked after horses were all labelled as Umakai, while those who worked jade and made magatama jewels were labelled as Tamatsukuribe. These groups or "be" were familial in that they were structured much as a family, with a single family head. That gave the ruler a single point of contact to presumably administer all of the work that particular corporate group was expected to perform. Furthermore, the name passed to their children, who would presumably have been brought up in the family business. For some of these families, rather than overseeing a business, craft, or similar thing, they were, instead, administrators of a given region or locality. We might think of these as chiefly families, overseeing domains of varying sizes. These families were known as "uji". This is often translated in English as "clan", which is an overloaded term used to describe a group that all claim familial descent from a single putative ancestor—whether real or fictional. Many of the earliest uji were created as "-be" groups: Abe, Mononobe, Imbe, Kataribe, etc., but they eventually started dropping "-be" altogether: Inukahi, Umakahi, Soga, Nakatomi, Wani, and the like. For these Uji, many were connected to various deities, or kami, from which they claimed descent. These kami are thought to be some of the original ujigami, though that term later came to be applied to various kami that were seen as guardians of a particular locale, and later uji need not claim direct descent from a kami for it to be special. For example, the main deity of Kasuga Taisha, the shrine built in Nara in the 8th century, said to house the ujigami of the Nakatomi and Fujiwara, primarily pays worship to Takemikazuchi no Mikoto and Futsunushi no Mikoto, deities brought from the east. Takemikazuchi is considered an ujigami of the two uji, but the oyagami, the actual parent or ancestral kami from which they claim direct lineage, would be Ame no Koyane no Mikoto, who is also worshipped as the third deity at the shrine. The fact that these uji operate more like clans means that they were made up of numerous family units, who might be scattered across the archipelago. At the head of each uji would have been a central family to provide the uji leadership and interface with the court. Nonetheless, they were all considered the same uji, and a rise in the fortunes of the uji applied to all of its disparate members. To be clear, there were titles attached to individual names, Sukune, for example, which is one we've encountered several times in the narrative. Professor Kan'ichi Asakawa, in his work "The Early Institutional Life of Japan", provides an overview of some of these corporate titles, that came to be known as "kabane". In all likelihood, they all had a straightforward meaning at some point. "Omi" means minister, for example, and continues to be used in that sense—as well as as a title—up through at least the 7th century. Another common kabane that we see is "Muraji", which appears to originally reference someone in charge of a village or similar polity. Asakawa suggests that it comes from Mura no Ushi, with "Ushi" meaning something like "lord" and showing up elsewhere as well. "Kimi" also appears to be demonstrating some kind of hegemony over a land. Beyond that, here are a few others that we have seen: Atahe—or Atai—as well as Suguri, which appears to truly be a lower level village headmaster. Then there is Agata-nushi, aka Agata No Ushi, the Lord of an Agata, or district. Asakawa also notes Wake, Inaki, Sukune, Kishi, and Tamitsukasaas other kabane. The kabane are interesting in that they do appear to be precedental—that is to say that there does appear to be some kind of hierarchy in terms of the social position of each uji. The kabane did not, however, confer any particular resources. There was no stipend attached to a given kabane, though certain court positions were only open to members of uji with the appropriate kabane. Perhaps most notable in this are the Omi and the Muraji, which were the only two family types that held the supreme court positions—what we would likely refer to as "Prime Minister". These included families such as the Ohotomo no Muraji, the Mononobe no Muraji, the Kose no Omi, and the Soga no Omi. The heads of these families had a special title—the Ohomuraji or the Oho-omi, the Great Muraji and the Great Omi. These positions were placed at the top of the court system, allowing them unrivaled access to the levers of power. Typically there were two to three of these individuals at any given time, down to as few as one during the height of the Soga no Omi's power and influence. It is unclear if all uji at the Omi and Muraji level had a designated Oho-Omi or Oho-Muraji at their head, or if that was only for those who were in actual positions at the top of the court structure. It is also unclear if the precedence between the Omi and Muraji was always fixed. Early on, we see Muraji houses that appear to be holding the majority of the powerful positions, and later we see the ascendancy of the Omi households. By the 7th century, however, it appears that Omi came first, followed by Muraji, based on the order that individuals are frequently named in the Chronicles, among other things. As for the other titles, some of them we believe we know, and others are more of a mystery. The origin of "wake" and "kimi" are rather obscure, though they both appear to have something to do with territorial rule and belong to uji that lay some kind of claim to a blood relationship with the royal house. Some of them may have been rulers in their own lands, prior to Yamato hegemony. "Inaki" may be related to rice castle, or storehouse, and seems to have referred to one of the smallest local units. That also means we rarely see it in the narrative, which tended to focus on those more closely tied to the court and the royal house. Asakawa notes that the Atahe, or Atai, seems to be for uji who possessed some amount of private land and private soldiery, but we don't know much more. Asakawa also points out that the Suguri, Tamitsukasa, and the Kishi kabane all seem to be related to groups with ties to the continent—perhaps descended from immigrant groups. The Kuni no Miyatsuko and the Agata-nushi are the titles with the clearest seeming ties to territorial hegemony. "Kuni" is the term for the ancient lands, such as Yamato, Kibi, Kenu, Koshi, etc. There seem to be around 140 such "kuni" described in the archipelago. Agata, on the other hand, were much smaller districts. While some of these district names have survived, it is hard, if not impossible, to know exactly how many of them there were. Then you have this term: "Miyatsuko". Breaking that apart, he translates it as child or servant—ko—of the exalted house—miya. Taken together, these appear to reference the elite families in charge of overseeing territorial lands.We also see another term that uses "Miyatsuko": Tomo no Miyatsuko. Unlike Kuni no Miyatsuko, Tomo no Miyatsuko is a term representing a group, rather than a kabane attached to an individual family. When the sovereign addresses the court, for example, he typically addresses the Omi, the Muraji, the Tomo no Miyatsuko and the Kuni no Miyatsuko. Asakawa proposed that, technically, all of these could fall under the term "Miyatsuko" as servants of the sovereign's house. Rather than focusing on specifics of all the myriad kabane, however, Asakawa treats them broadly as the Omi, Muraji, Tomo no Miyatsuko, and Kuni no Miyatsuko. The Omi and the Muraji we already touched on. They were the houses that could, among other things, supply the court with their Ohoomi and Ohomuraji—their prime ministers. So it makes some sense. The Tomo no Miyatsuko and the Kuni no Miyatsuko are a little more tricky to pin down, but Asakawa suggests that, ased on what we can tell, the heads of the Omi, Muraji, and Tomo no Miyatsuko likely attended court on a regular basis and lived nearby, whereas the Kuni no Miyatsuko were those whose heads dwelt elsewhere, likely because they were the local elites in various other areas of the archipelago. This is in the name—the term "tomo" might be thought of as being "with" someone, and at one point it is suggested that the Tomo no Miyatsuko are related to those who traced kinship back to the kami who originally descended from the Plain of Heaven. However, among the myriad kabane, not all of them were strictly local, and we find some kabane doing double duty for both local and geographically dispersed uji. Thus he also suggested that Kuni no Miyatsuko, though it was a kabane in its own right, also represented the other forms of territorial elite titles—all those who did not regularly attend the court, but instead administered their own lands. Richard Miller, in his work, "Ancient Japanese Nobility", does provide a suggested hierarchy of the kabane. I don't know if I completely agree, as I think that it was a lot more complicated across the entire archipelago, but nonetheless I'll add the information to the blogpost page if you want to see at least one suggestion of relative precedence between uji of different kabane. Now let's not forget that not everyone was a member of an uji. For one thing, the royal family—both the sovereign's immediate family and Princes who claimed a more distant relationship—were exempt from the Uji-Kabane system. Also, the commoners, those who actually toiled and worked the land, likewise would not have been included in a given Uji. The Uji may have directed production, and even included certain artisans, but it still only included those who were tied, in some way, to the government. Now while the Uji-Kabane system may have started as titles with actual meanings—that is to say that the names and titles were essentially indicative of a group's role in society—it didn't take too long for it to become a little more abstract. After all, generation after generation, people change. Individuals vied for power and posit…

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Year One Oct 01, 2025

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It is the first year of a new reign, so come and let's take a look at how it all begins. For more, check out our blog page at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-135 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 135: Year One The officials of the Ministry of Kami Affairs bustled to and fro as they prepared the ritual grounds and the temporary buildings. They were carefully erecting the structures, which would only be used for a single festival, and then torn down, but this would be an important festival. It was the harvest festival, the Niiname-sai, the festival of the first-fruits. Rice, from the regions of Tamba and Harima, specifically chosen through divination, would be offered to his majesty along with the kami who had blessed the land. But this time, there was more. After all, this was the first harvest festival of a new reign, and they had orders to make it special. The ascension ceremony had been held earlier in the year, but in some ways that was just a prelude. There had been various rituals and ceremonies throughout the year emphasizing that this year was special—even foreign lands were sending envoys to congratulate him on the event. But this wasn't for them. This was the sovereign taking part, for the first time, in one of the most important ceremonies of the year. After all, the feast of first-fruits was the culmination of all that the kami had done, and it emphasized the sovereign's role as both a descendant of heaven and as the preeminent intercessor with the divine spirits of the land. And so they knew, that everything had to be bigger, with even more pomp and circumstance than normal. This wouldn't just be about the new rice. This would be a grand ceremony, one that only happened once in a generation, and yet which would echo through the centuries. As the annual harvest festival, it was an ancient tradition. But as something new—as the Daijosai—it was something else all together. And it would have to be perfect! Last episode we talked about the Kiyomihara palace and a little bit about what it was like in the court of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou. After defeating the Afumi court supporting his nephew, Ohotomo, in 672, Ohoama had taken control of the government. He moved back to Asuka, and into the refurbished Okamoto palace, building a southern exclave known to us today as the Ebinoko enclosure, which held one large building, which may have been a residence or a ceremonial structure—possibly the first "Daigokuden" or ceremonial hall. Ohoama's court built on the ideas that his brother, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, had put forth since the Taika era. This was a continuation of the form of government known as the Ritsuryo system, or Ritsuryo-sei, literally a government of laws and punishments, and Ohoama had taken the reins. He seems to have taken a much more direct approach to governance compared to some of his predecessors. For instance, the role of the ministerial families was reduced, with Ohoama or various princes—actual or invented relatives of the throne—taking a much more prominent role. He also expanded access to the central government to those outside of the the Home Provinces. After all, it was the traditional ministerial families—the Soga, the Nakatomi, and even the Kose—who had been part of the Afumi government that he had just defeated. Meanwhile, much of his military support had come from the Eastern provinces, though with prominent indications of support from Kibi and Tsukushi as well. This episode we are going to get back to the events documented in the Chronicles, looking just at the first year of Ohoama's reign. Well, technically it was the second year, with 672 being the first, but this is the first year in which he formally sat on the throne. There's plenty going on in this year to fill a whole episode: it was the year of Ohoama's formal ascension, and there were numerous festivals, ceremonies, and other activities that seem to be directly related to a fresh, new start. We will also look at the custom of handing out posthumous ranks, particularly to those who supported Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran, and how that relates to the various ranks and titles used in Ohoama's court. We have envoys from three different countries—Tamna, Silla, and Goguryeo—and their interactions with the Dazaifu in Tsukushi. Finally, we have the first Daijosai, one of the most important ceremonies in any reign. And so, let's get into it. The year 673 started with a banquet for various princes and ministers, and on the 27th day of the 2nd month, Ohoama formally assumed the throne at what would come to be known as Kiyomihara Palace. Uno, his consort, who had traveled with him through the mountains from Yoshino to Ise, was made his queen, and their son, Royal Prince Kusakabe, was named Crown Prince. Two days later they held a ceremony to convey cap-ranks on those deemed worthy. We are then told that on the 17th day of the following month, word came from the governor of Bingo, the far western side of ancient Kibi, today the eastern part of modern Hiroshima. They had caught a white pheasant in Kameshi and sent it as tribute. White or albino animals were seen as particularly auspicious signs, and no doubt it was taken as an omen of good fortune for the reign. In response, the forced labor from Bingo, which households were required to supply to the State, was remitted. There was also a general amnesty granted throughout the land. That same month we are also told that scribes were brought in to Kawaradera to copy the Issaiko—aka the Tripitaka, or the entirety of the Buddhist canon. That would include hundreds of scrolls. This clearly seems to be an act of Buddhist merit-making: by copying out the scrolls you make merit, which translates to good karma. That would be another auspicious start to the reign, and we see frequently that rulers would fund sutra copying—or sutra recitations—as well as temples, statues, bells and all other such things to earn Buddhist merit. As the ruler, this merit didn't just accrue to you, but to the entire state, presumably bringing good fortune and helping to avert disaster. However, it wasn't just the Law of the Buddha that Ohoama was appealing to. In the following entry, on the14th day of the 4th month, we are told that Princess Ohoki was preparing herself at the saigu, or abstinence palace, in Hatsuse—known as Hase, today, east of modern Sakurai, along the Yonabari river, on the road to Uda. Ohoki was the sister of Prince Ohotsu. Her mother was Ohota, the Queen's elder sister, making her a grandchild of Naka no Ohoye as well as the daughter of Ohoama. Princess Ohoki's time at the abstinence palace was so that she could purify herself. This was all to get her ready to head to Ise, to approach none other than the sun goddess, Amaterasu Ohokami. With all of these events, we see the full panoply of ritual and ceremony on display. The formal, legal ceremonies of ascension and granting of rank. The declaration of auspicious omens for the reign. There is the making of Buddhist merit, but also the worship of the kami of the archipelago. This is not an either-or situation. We are seeing in the first half of this first year the fusion of all of these different elements into something that may not even be all that sensational to those of us, today. After all, anyone who goes to Japan is likely well-accustomed to the way that both Buddhist and Shinto institutions can both play a large part in people's lives. While some people may be more drawn to one than the other, for most they are complimentary. That isn't how it had to be. For a time, it was possible that Buddhism would displace local kami worship altogether. This was the core of the backlash that we saw from groups like the Nakatomi, whose role in kami-focused ceremonies was threatened by the new religion. Indeed, for a while now it seems like mention of the kami has taken a backseat to Buddhist temples and ceremonies in the Chronicles. Likewise, as a foreign religion, Buddhism could have also fallen out of favor. It was not fore-ordained that it would come to have a permanent place on the archipelago. This tension between local kami worship—later called Shinto, the Way of the Kami—and Buddhist teachings would vary throughout Japanese history, with one sometimes seen as more prestigious or more natural than the other, but neither one would fully eclipse the other. One could say that was in part due to the role that Amaterasu and kami worship played in the court ceremonies. However, even there indigenous practices were not necessarily safe. The court could have just as easily imported Confucian rituals, and replaced the spiritual connection between the sovereign and the kami with the continental style Mandate of Heaven. And thus, the choices that were being made at this time would have huge implications for the Japanese state for centuries to come. I should note that it is unlikely that this spontaneously arose amongst the upper class and the leadership. I doubt this was just Ohoama's strategy to give himself multiple levers of power—though I'm not saying he wasn't thinking about that either. But the only way that these levers existed was through their continued life in the culture and the people of the time. If the people didn't believe in Buddhist merit, or that the kami influenced their lives, then neither would have given them much sway. It was the fact that these were a part of the cultural imaginary of the state, and how people imagined themselves and their surroundings, that they were effective tools for Ohoama and his government. And so it seems that Ohoama's first year is off to a smashing success. By the fifth month he is already issuing edicts—specifically on the structure of the state, which we discussed some last episode. But the high could not be maintained indefinitely. And on the 29th day of the 5th month we have what we might consider our first negative entry, when Sakamoto no Takara no Omi passed away. You may remember Sakamoto, but I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. He was the commander in the Nara Basin, under general Wofukei, who took 300 troops to Tatsuta. From there he advanced to the Hiraishi plain and up to the top of Mt. Takayasu, to confront the Afumi forces that had taken the castle. They fled, and Takara and his men overnighted at the castle. The next day they tried to intercept Afumi troops advancing from the Kawachi plain, but they were forced to fall back to a defensive position. We covered that in Episode 131 with the rest of the campaign in the Nara Basin. Takara's death is the first of many entries—I count roughly 21 through this and the following reign—which, for the most part, are all similarly worded. Sakamoto no Takara no Omi, of Upper Daikin rank, died. He was posthumously granted the rank of Shoushi for service in the Year of Mizu-no-e Saru, aka Jinshin. We are told the individual, their rank at the time of their death, and then a note about a posthumous grant of rank. Upper Daikin was already about the 7th rank from the top in the system of 664, and Shoushi would be the 6th rank, and one of the "ministerial" ranks. This is out of 26, total. "Kin" itself was the fourth of about 7 categories, and the last category that was split into six sub-ranks, with greater and lesser (Daikin and Shokin), each of which was further divided into Upper, Middle, and Lower ranks. There's a lot to go into, in fact a little too much for this episode, so for more on the ranks in use at the start of the reign, check out our blogpost for this episode. The giving of posthumous rank is mostly just an honorific. After all, the individual is now deceased, so it isn't as if they would be drawing more of a stipend, though their new ranks may have influenced their funerary rites and similar things. As I said, on a quick scan of the text, I counted 21 of these entries, though there may be a few more with slightly different phrasing or circumstances. Some of them were quite notable in the record, while others may have only had a mention here or there. That they are mentioned, though, likely speaks to the importance of that connection to such a momentous year. The Nihon Shoki is thought to have been started around the time of Ohoama or his successor, along with the Kojiki, and so it would have been important to people of the time to remind everyone that their ancestors had been the ones who helped with that momentous event. It really isn't that much different from those who proudly trace their lineage back to heroes of, say, the American Revolution, though it likely held even more sway being closer to the actual events. After the death of Sakamoto no Takara, we get another death announcement. This is of someone that Aston translates as "Satek Syomyeong" of Baekje, of Lower Daikin rank. We aren't given much else about him, but we are told that Ohoama was shocked. He granted Syomyeong the posthumous rank of "Outer Shoushi", per Aston's translation. He also posthumously named him as Prime Minister, or Desapyong, of Baekje. There are a few clues about who this might be, but very little to go on. He is mentioned in 671, during the reign of Naka no Oe, when he received the rank of Upper Daikin along with Minister—or Sapyong—Yo Jasin. It is also said in the interlinear text that he was the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Judgment—the Houkan no Taifu. The Ministry of Judgment—the Houkan or perhaps the Nori no Tsukasa—is thought to have been the progenitor of the later Shikibu, the Ministry of Ceremony. One of the major roles it played was in the selection of candidates for rank, position, and promotion. We are also told that in the year 660, in the reign of Takara Hime, one of the nobles captured in the Tang invasion of Baekje was "Desapyong Satek", so perhaps this Syomyeong was a descendant or relative of the previous prime minister, who fled to Yamato with other refugees. We also have another record from 671 of a Satek Sondeung and his companions accompanying the Tang envoy Guo Yacun. So it would seem that the Sathek family was certainly notable The name "Satek" shows up once more, though Aston then translates it as "Sataku", like a monk or scholar's name. "Sataku" would be the Japanese on'yomi pronunciation of the same characters, so perhaps another relative. What we can take away from all of this is that the Baekje refugee community is still a thing in Yamato. This Satek Seomyeong has court rank—Upper Daikin rank, just like Sakamoto, in the previous entry. And we know that he had an official position at court—not just in the Baekje court in exile. We'll see more on this as the community is further integrated into the rest of Society, such that there would no longer be a Baekje community, but families would continue to trace their lineages back to Baekje families, often with pride. The other odd thing here is the character "outer" or "outside" before "Shoushi". Aston translates it as part of the rank, and we see it show up a total of four times in some variation of "Outer Lesser X rank". Mostly it is as here, Outer Lesser Purple. Later we would see a distinction of "outer" and "inner" ranks, which this may be a version of. Depending on one's family lineage would denote whether one received an "outer" or "inner" rank, and so it may be that since Satek Syomyeong was from the Baekje community, it was more appropriate for him to have an "outside" rank. "Outer" rank would also be given to Murakuni no Muraji no Woyori, the general who had led the campaign to Afumi, taking the Seta bridge. He was also pos…

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An Image of the Court at Kiyomihara Sep 16, 2025

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Ōama, aka Temmu Tennō, ascended the throne in the Kiyomihara Palace--a rennovated version of his mother's Later Okamoto Palace. Here he ruled with a tremendous amount of authority, continuing the leverage the Ritsuryo system to centralize power in the throne. We'll look at the layout of the palace, and also talk a little bit about what life was like for the members of the court who were serving Oama, and the state at large. For photos, diagrams, and more, see our blog at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/episode-134 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 134: An Image of the Court at Kiyomihara Maro sat under the eaves of the hall to which he was assigned. The journey from Mino hadn't been so hard, but he was still far from his family, back home. He knew as much as they did that serving at the court of the Great Lord was a tremendous opportunity. He would be at the heart of the court, in the presence of those running the country, and he could learn a lot from them. After passing his internship, he would have a chance to prove himself. If he worked hard, he could look forward to continued promotion, with the greater stipend and influence that came with it. Maro had no illusions that he would someday be at the top of the court hierarchy, but perhaps he could make some modest improvements in his station. His elder brother was expected to inherit their father's position back in Mino, but the court provided a different opportunity. Maro had always been a quick learner, and had learned to read and write at an early age, devouring whatever knowledge he could get his hands on – and that had helped make him that much more desirable to the court. Now he was learning the ins and outs of how it worked, mostly by doing odd jobs while observing the various interactions, the politics, and the rhythm of it all. Life at the Court really was something. And yet he still felt homesick. And so here Maro sat, looking out at the full moon in the sky, its light so bright that he barely needed any other illumination. Maro wondered at the idea that his family might be looking up at the same moon at the very same time. As that image took hold, he could feel in the experience a poetic verse. He took out one of the wooden slips used for labels and notes, scraped off the previous writing, and began jotting down his composition. He only got through a couple of lines before he heard his name being called, and since he was on night duty he put down the brush and the wooden slip. Poetry would have to wait. With everything put back away, he rushed off to find out what new task awaited him. So here we are, the year is 673 and we are at the start of a new era. Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, had defeated his enemies and was now in the process of taking the reins of power and officially ascending the throne. In so doing he was moving the capital from Ohotsu, on the shores of Lake Biwa, back to Asuka. Arriving back, he took up residence in what is called the Shima palace for a few days, presumably as they prepared the Okamoto Palace for him. At the same time, we are told that a "palace" was erected for Ohoama south of the Okamoto Palace, and this was called the Kiyomihara Palace. I'd like to spend this episode talking about this Kiyomihara Palace, and what life was like there, not just for Ohoama but for his new court. While we talked about some of the other palaces, this is perhaps one of the better known from the archaeological record, and it is the backdrop for so much that happens. Ohoama is even known as the Sovereign from Kiyomihara. So let's talk about what the palace consisted of, and what it was, and a little bit about what life was like there. In addition to that, we've discussed in previous episodes how Ohoama's ascension to the throne kicked off a whole new era in the evolution of the Yamato state, with numerous innovations and new paradigms in the idea of the ruler and the court and their relationship – so it's worth taking a closer look at the setting where all of that was happening, so we can try and put ourselves in the shoes of those doing the work, and understand their daily grind, as it were. There is unfortunately plenty about the Kiyomihara Palace that we don't know - it isn't like there is a detailed account of the palace in the records - but its ruins are probably the most complete of all those found in Asuka. This makes sense, given that it would have been built over the earlier palace sites. In fact, for the most part, the Kiyomihara Palace is just the Later Okamoto Palace, in other words where Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennou, ruled, but updated and expanded to fit Ohoama's and his court's needs. Archeological work in Asuka has done some tremendous work to help us understand the Asuka Palace Site. By studying the various post holes, ditches, and other evidence, along with occasionally discarded items, we have a general idea of the palace's shape, and when we combine this with what we know from other sites—the Naniwa Palace ruins in Ohosaka, the Fujiwara palace ruins in Kashihara, and the Heijo-kyo ruins in Nara, among others—along with an understanding of how palaces were being built on the continent, we are able to piece together what we think was going on. Of course these interpretations aren't unanimous, and there are parts that scholars will no doubt quibble over—such as the use of the Ebinoko compound, which I'll talk about in a bit—but in general we have a picture of what things probably looked like, at least from a layout perspective, and how the site may have been used. To start, let's go back for a moment to the Toyosaki Palace in Naniwa, the first palace purpose built for the new governmental system being brought over from the continent. This was the palace of Karu Ohokimi, aka Koutoku Tennou, uncle to Naka no Ohoye. It was built in the aftermath of the Isshin Incident of 645, an architectural centerpiece of the Taika reforms. As you may recall, this was a massive undertaking. This palace was largely rectangular, and consisted of three compounds from south to north, ranging from most to least public. Most people would enter from the south gate, later known as the Suzaku-mon, the gate of the crimson bird of the south, a pattern that would generally hold true for other palaces. Entering the compound, you would find yourself in the Choshuden, a space holding two pavilions with several rooms where officials could change into or out of their official robes. The gates to the Choshuden would open at sunrise for the clerks and functionaries would enter. At the northern end of the Choshuden was the Southern gate of the Chodoin, the main working area of the court. There were 14 halls, or Chodo, each one dedicated to a different ministry. The size of these halls varied, likely based on importance or at least the size of their government portfolio. Most of the middle area of the Chodoin was open, but at the northern end was the gate to the Dairi, the inner palace. This gate was flanked by two octagonal buildings, and it led to an area between the Chodoin and the Dairi where there sat the building that would become the Daigokuden. This was the main audience chamber for meetings with the sovereign, who would preside and make pronouncements in the early morning hours, at the start of the day. To the north of the Daigokuden was the rest of the Dairi, where the sovereign's personal quarters lay, including the quarters for his consorts and children, maintained by his personal servants.And there were other gates into and out of the Dairi—after all, the palace was so large you didn't want to have to go through the Choushuden and Choudouin just to get to the sovereign's quarters. Those who lived in the Dairi and those who worked there would be able to have their own entrances and exits. Let's contrast all of this with the Okamoto Palace in Asuka. More precisely the Later Okamoto Palace. This was the successor palace to the Itabuki palace, both of which were built for Takara Hime, aka Kougyouku—and by this point Saimei—Tennou. In fact, Itabuki palace burned down at the end of 654, just as Takara Hime came to the throne a second time. This palace was, in total, maybe the size of the Chodoin of the Toyosaki Palace, if that. For one thing, there wasn't as much flat land easily available in the valley, but for another, the builders maybe didn't think they needed quite that much space and that many buildings. You see, while the Toyosaki palace in Naniwa was likely meant to model the kind of infrastructure necessary for the Tang court, in Chang'an, Yamato was still building up its fledgling bureaucracy. It wasn't like there were a flood of reports and correspondences coming in from all over the archipelago that had to be handled by an army of clerks. At least not yet. The Okamoto palace, from what we can tell, was also a rectangle, once again facing south , on the east side of the Asuka river. This palace did not necessarily have the same kinds of dedicated spaces as the Toyosaki Palace. The main gate that we know of was in the south, leading to a courtyard with another building—possibly the Ohoandono, alternatively the Ohoyasumidono or the Daianden. This may have been an audience hall for meeting with public officials. The ground here was covered in gravel, a fairly common thing for palace compounds. Though we don't know exactly what the buildings looked like, we have some idea based on the size and number of post-holes. We also haven't found any ceramic tiles in or around the ruins so far, which suggests that Okamoto Palace did not have ceramic tile roofs as were common on temple architecture, but instead were likely covered with wooden shingles, like the Itabuki Palace that used to be in relatively the same spot. From an archeological perspective, any tiled building of this size leaves a lot of indications behind: over the years tiles fall off, break, get buried, etc. Even if, as was common, the court meticulously dismantled the buildings down and reused as much as they could, we would still expect to see some tiles or tile fragments in the ground where the pillars are found, and yet we find nothing of the sort. To the east and west of the Ohoandono were long, narrow structures, oriented north to south rather than east to west. These are thought to have been the offices where government officials could do their work. Moving into the northern section of the palace, the ground was paved with river stones. There were two large buildings with small wings, running east to west, lengthwise, and situated on the same line as the Ohoandono. These may have been what have been called the To no Andono, or outer Hall, and the Uchi no Andono, the inner hall, and they would have been used for ceremonies for those of the appropriate rank. The middle hall it seems was modified from its original form. While it was similar in size and footprint to the hall north of it, the western wing of the southern hall at some point was destroyed—whether on purpose or accidentally—and it was replaced with what appears to have been a pond. On each side of this central area we see more space for buildings, but only some of the post holes have so far been uncovered. There were other buildings further in the northernmost third of the compound that were likely for the sovereign's private usage, as well as a well, and what may have been a building for some kind of semi-private religious ceremony. This palace, the Okamoto Palace, was essentially what Ohoama started from when he relocated the capital back to Asuka – but when he ascended to the throne, he did make a few changes. Most notable was the creation of something called the ebinoko-kuruwa, the Ebinoko enclosure. This was to the southeast of the main palace, and had a rectangular wall surrounding one large building and two smaller ones. Interestingly, the buildings would appear to be oriented in a symmetrical shape that would suggest a southern entrance, like the other palace compounds we've been discussing, and yet the gate was to the west, opening to the area between the Ebinoko enclosure and the main palace. And based on postholes and other evidence, there appear to have been at least four other rectangular buildings stretching out to the south, outside of the walls. Some have theorized that the large building in the Ebinoko was an early form of the Daigokuden, a ceremonial hall where Ohoama held court, rather than reusing the facilities of the old Okamoto palace. Alternately, perhaps it was actually more like the buildings of the Chodoin in Naniwa, where the different departments of the court actually did business, but here with all of the officials working in one, single building. A third idea that others have suggested that this was actually Ohoama's private residence—again, somewhat odd given the size and shape and the fact that there were the seemingly larger facilities of the Okamoto palace already right there for the taking. So which is it? We do have a clue in the record of the 15th day of the 9th month of 672, and the lines following it. According to the Aston translation of the Nihon shoki: He removed his residence from the Palace of Shima to the Palace of Okamoto. In this year a Palace was erected south of the Palace of Okamoto, and the Emperor removed his residence thither that same winter. This was called the Palace of Kiyomibara in Asuka. So it does seem like something was built south of Okamoto and that is where Ohoama resided. It is somewhat uncommon for a sovereign to reuse an old palace like this. Traditionally, sovereigns had regularly moved to new palaces, seemingly because of the attempts to avoid ritual pollution associated with death. Of course, it had been a while since Takara hime had passed away, and Naka no Ohoye had moved everything to Ohotsu, but nonetheless, is it possible that the Ebinoko kuruwa was built to, in some way, give Ohoama new quarters? We may never know for sure. There are plenty of inconsistencies. For one, if it was meant as a residence, I would expect more buildings for his consorts and others. There are also some things to note about the account in the Nihon Shoki. For one thing, although the initial account calls this the Kiyomihara Palace, the Chronicles also suggest that it wouldn't actually get that name until the 20th day of the 7th month of 686, about 14 years later. That record describes how a new era name was also announced: the Akamitori, or red bird, era. I don't want to get too much into it right now, but suffice it to say that a red, three legged crow is often depicted as the symbol of the sun; and the important south gate of the palace, the Suzaku-mon, is named for the vermillion bird of the south, one of the four guardian animals. When this era name—more commonly read as "Shucho", today, since era names are commonly red in on'yomi reading rather than kun'yomi—well, when it was declared, we are told that the palace was titled the Palace of Kiyomihara of Asuka. What are we to make of this? Well, today, it is assumed that the Kiyomihara palace refers to the Okamoto Palace starting from the creation of the Ebinoko-kuruwa and its occupation during what is assumed to be Ohoama's rule. Earlier in the Nihon Shoki we are told that Ohoama was known as the Kiyomihara sovereign, and so even though that name technically wasn't applied to the palace until later, it makes some sense just to assume it applied from the start of Ohoama's renovations. One more thing that I would point out. While we talked about the original Okamoto Palace and the newly built Ebinoko enclosure, they were arranged as though around a large open area, like a courtyard. The original palace stood at the north, where one could…

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Reimagining Yamato Sep 01, 2025

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With the end of the Jinshin War, Oama, posthumously known as Temmu Tenno, came to the throne. And though they would need a new Great Council of State, they continued to build up and bolster the Ritsuryo state. They were imagining a new Yamato based on continental models of what a state should look like, but also influenced by tradition. This episode we take a look at that reimagining in broad strokes, asking a few questions--what was Oama's relationship with his brother, and touching on the relationship of Nakatomi no Kamatari and his brother, Nakatomi no Kane. We also take a look at some of the literary propaganda that also helped to codify this new imaginary--the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki. We also touch on other sourcesof information, like the Fudoki and Man'yoshu. For more information, check out our blog: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-133 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 133: Reimagining Yamato As the bells of Houkouji tolled, Ohoama and his wife, Uno, surveyed the construction on going in the Asuka valley. Hordes of workers had been called up, and now they were working furiously towards the deadline of the new year. Where once stood the later Wokamoto palace of Takara Hime, aka Ohoama's mother, Saimei Tennou, now the land was being prepared for a palace on a much grander scale. And just as the palace was being remade, Ohoama's thoughts went beyond the valley, to the entire archipelago. His brother, Naka no Oe, had started something profound. Now here he was, helming the Ship of State, and Ohoama had plans of his own, built upon his brother's ideas. He would build a new state, ensuring that the reforms that started back in 645 would continue for generations. Greetings everyone and welcome back. As we dive back in, let's recap where we are. The year is now 673, and the fighting from the previous year—the Jinshin war—is over. Prince Ohoama and his Yoshino forces were victorious and he is now poised to ascend the throne in the recently built Palace of Kiyomihara, in Asuka. He will be known to future generations by his posthumous name: Temmu Tennou. Ohoama would go ahead and continue to centralize the government under the continental model. That said, he also would pay a not insignificant amount of attention to local tradition as well. His reign would lead to the establishment of the first permanent capital city: Fujiwara-kyo. He is also credited with initiating the projects collecting various historical records, which culminated in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, the very chronicles on which this podcast is based – and both of which seem to have been designed specifically to promote the authority of the throne, specifically Ohoama and his descendants. Those descendants—the Temmu dynasty—would rule for almost a century, including four of the eight official female sovereigns (those eight become ten if you count the unofficial Himiko and Okinaga Tarashi-hime, aka Jingu Tennou). This dynasty would reign from the end of the Asuka period up through to the Nara period, and it would see the evolution of the Yamato state into the kingdom of Nihon—which is to say the kingdom of Japan. The politics of this period were also quite something. It is during this coming period that we see the rise of the famous Fujiwara family, who would come to dominate the political landscape. We also see the continued contact with the mainland, with numerous trade goods coming over, many of which would be included in the famous Shousouin storehouse of Toudaiji temple, in Nara. Buddhism would also thrive, with Kokubunji, or provincial temples, being set up in a network around the archipelago. There was also the building of the famous Daibutsu, or Giant Buddha statue, of Toudaiji. Art would also flourish. The Man'yoshu would be published at this time—a collection of around 4,500 Japanese poems, or waka. Meanwhile, the court would also focus on continental styles as well. From this point on, not only do we have more evidence of what was happening through the written record, but the writing itself changed. Different Sinitic characters were borrowed solely for their sound to help spell out Japanese words. These would eventually be simplified, and known as "kana". The earliest use of these characters is known as "Man'yo-gana" because so many are traced back to the Man'yoshu itself. They would eventually be standardized and simplified, becoming the hiragana and katakana we know and use today. But in 673, all of this is still on the horizon. So this is a great time to pause for a bit in our journey through the chronicles and set the stage for this next, incredibly transformative period in the archipelago by going over these larger patterns in some depth, so that, as we start to go through this period we get a better idea of just what was happening, and perhaps why. That's what we'll do this episode. To start with, let's go back to the relationship between Naka no Oe and Ohoama. As far as we can tell, these brothers were fairly close to one another. Not only was Ohoama married to one of Naka no Oe's daughters, Princess Uno, he had actually taken as consort at least four of Naka no Oe's other daughters—all of which were Ohoama's nieces. In turn, one of Ohoama's own daughters, Princess Touchi, had been married off to Ohotomo, aka the ill-fated Koubun Tennou. On top of that, Naka no Oe and Ohoama both had taken as consorts daughters of Soga no Akaye, and both Ohotomo and Ohoama had consorts from Nakatomi—or Fujiwara—no Kamatari. This demonstrates just how interrelated everyone was at court, presumably as a means of strengthening the ties between them. Of course, as we've seen time and again, those ties were more symbolic than anything else, and certainly did not prevent the occasional use of violence, nor did it protect the fathers of those women from political repercussions when they found themselves on the wrong side. On the other hand, beyond the initial mention of their births, we don't see the two brothers together until Naka no Oe came to the throne. Why? Well, to be fair, we don't see much of anyone but the sovereign in the Chronicles unless there is a specific thing they are called out for—like an embassy, presenting something to the throne, etc. Even Naka no Oe often isn't mentioned directly, even when he was the Crown Prince and supposedly helping run the government. So that could be it. There are two apparent counter arguments to the idea that Naka no Oe and his brother, Ohoama, were tight. First is a mention in the Toushi Kaden, the Family History of the Fujiwara Family, about Ohoama thrusting a spear into a board, which rattled Naka no Oe enough that he was apparently wondering if he needed to have his own brother taken out. Then there is Ohoama's resignation at the time of Naka no Oe's death, presumably because he was warned that a plot was afoot, and that if he accepted Naka no Oe's offer to take the reins of the state in his own two hands then something—we aren't told what—would unfold. I can't rule out the idea that neither of those accounts is quite accurate either, however. It is possible that the Toushi Kaden account is embellished to heighten Fujiwara no Kamatari's own role as peacemaker between the brothers. I also have to wonder if the warning to Ohoama around Naka no Oe's death wasn't so much about Naka no Oe, but about his ministers. After all, they seem to have had no problem supporting the much younger—and likely more malleable—Prince Ohotomo. So it seems to me entirely possible that there were other threats that Ohoama was concerned with. That brings me to one of those ministers: Nakatomi no Kane. We talked about him before and during the war. He first showed up participating in ritual and speaking on kami matters. He would later rise to be one of the Great Ministers of State, and was one of the six ministers who had pledged themselves to Prince Ohotomo. At the end of the Jinshin War, he was put to death and his family was banished. That said, in period leading up to all of that, we spent a good amount of time with another Nakatomi: Nakatomi no Kamatari. He was the head of the Nakatomi clan and the Naidaijin, the Interior Minister, a special position placing him on par, or even above, the Ministers of the Left and Right, but which did not have a well defined portfolio noted in the literature. Interestingly, this position also doesn't seem to have survived Kamatari, at least in the short run. From the time of Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, to the time of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, it seems that the office of Naidaijin fell out of favor, possibly due, in part, to Prince Ohotomo being raised to a different post, that of Dajou Daijin, placing him in charge of the Great Council of State. The Naidaijin role wouldn't be revived until 717 for Kamatari's grandson, Fujiwara no Fusasaki (interestingly, only three years before the completion of the Nihon Shoki). Nakatomi no Kane was, as far as we can tell, the brother to Kamatari. When Kamatari passed away, Kane seems to have taken on the role as head of the Nakatomi family and he was also made Minister of the Right. This mirrors, in its way, the relationship between Naka no Oe and Ohoama, and the common system of inheritance that would often go brother to brother. And yet, while Kamatari was a hero of the Taika era, Nakatomi no Kane was executed for his role in the Jinshin War. So in the context of the rise of the Fujiwaras to greater prominence later on in Ohoama's reign, it is significant that Kamatari's line would be set apart from the rest of the Nakatomi to the extent of giving it the new Fujiwara name. Although the Chronicles claim that the "Fujiwara" name was actually granted by Naka no Oe, there is a thought that this was granted posthumously, and may have even been retconned by later members of the family, possibly to distance themselves from Nakatomi no Kane and his role on the losing side of the Jinshin War, and tie themselves clearly to Kamatari and his founding role in Naka no Oe's and Ohoama's new vision, instead. This all brings me to my next point: the creation of the national histories. The projects that culminated in what we know today as the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki are said to have been started under Ohoama's reign, though they wouldn't be finished until much later, well into the 8th century. A lot of what went into them was work under Ohoama's wife Uno, who succeeded him as Jitou Tennou, as well as her successors. Prince Toneri, one of Ohoama's sons, is said to have overseen the Nihon Shoki's compilation. Prince Toneri was son of Ohoama and princess Niitabe, one of Naka no Oe's daughters, and while he never sat the throne, himself, one of his sons would eventually do so. As such, we can see a strong royal hand on the project, even though the actual composition was probably by several teams of Chroniclers—we touched on this briefly back in Episode 131. The Kojiki, on the other hand, is said to have been written by Oho no Yasumaro based on the oral history that had been maintained by Hieda no Are. We don't know much about Hieda no Are—there are some that believe they may have been a woman, since a passage in a later work, the Seikyuuki, suggests that they were a member of the Sarume no Kimi family, descended from Ame no Uzume no Mikoto, who is said to have danced and helped lure Amaterasu out of the rock cave. And so they were particularly known for their role as shrine maidens—a particularly female role. That said, Are received the title of "toneri", which is often assumed to be male, and there is nothing else that explicitly says they were not. Either way, Hieda no Are is said to have been commanded by the sovereign, Ohoama, to memorize the history of the nation, presumably to then perform it as needed, for the court. Only later was Oho no Yasumaro asked to write it down in what became known as the Kojiki. Both of these chronicles were attempts to organize the history of the nation and to put together all the stories in a way that would establish a foundation for the new state that was evolving out of ancient Yamato. A large part of that effort was going to be to justify those who were in power at the time—including both the royal family and the various noble houses at the time, including the powerful Fujiwara. Now, when we talk about how these histories were created to bolster the state, I want to be careful. It may not have necessarily been the case that the chroniclers were actively and consciously promoting a fictional account. From what we can tell, the chroniclers drew from a collection of stories, some written down in diaries and court records, works like the Baekje annals and continental histories, and some that were likely just memorized tales that were part of the general culture. There were a couple of existing histories—we are told, for example, that there was a Teiki and a Kyuji floating around, both attributed to the legendary Shotoku Taishi, and both supposedly including the royal lineage at least to Toyomike-kashikiya-hime, aka Suikou Tennou. However, the copies that were being passed around were apparently suspect, and we are told that there were inconsistencies. Which probably means that the way they told the story did not conform to the way that Ohoama and the royal family wanted it told, though it could also refer to the fact that different accounts had slight variations on the stories, many of which had probably started as oral traditions that were only later written down. It is also likely that there was only so much detail in those ancient texts, but we can't know for sure. The Sendai Kuji Hongi purports to be the text of the original Kyuuji, or Kyuujiki, but that claim is dubious, at best, though it may have used an older, no longer extant history to crib its own notes from. So there were probably some writings, already, but there was also so much more. There were stories from various familial records, stories told by various shrines about their kami and their histories, and stories passed down as local history that had never been captured, previously. All of this was good material for the project of creating an official national history that aimed to tell the whole story. To get an idea of what the Chroniclers of that time might have been going through, imagine that you have some 2,000 random facts about the United States, or any country of your choice, in no particular order—stories of heroes, presidents, wars, etc. On top of that, only a few of them ever give you any kind reference dates, and when they do, those dates are only in relationship to the presidents in office – the third year of the presidency of Roosevelt, for example - or maybe they reference another event. In addition, some of the facts have been lost, or they come from history books with a slightly different format. Or they come from diaries with different perspectives and takes on the same event. And then, without the aid of the Internet or any other reference material, you are asked to put all of that together into a coherent narrative. In all likelihood you would be able to generally construct many of the broad strokes. You would leverage what you know to be true and do your best to put things in place, but there is no guarantee that everything would be in the right order. And in places where there wasn't any clear through line, you may have needed to come up with your best, most plausible explanation and write that down. Also, imagine you had, in the interests of completeness, thrown in some of the more, shall we say, apocryphal stories. George Washington cutting down a cherry tree, for instance, or the stor…

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The Jinshin no Ran Part IV: The Afumi Campaign Aug 16, 2025

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The fourth and final episode in our series on the Jinshin no Ran: we cover the campaign in Afumi (aka Ōmi - 近江). Prince Ōama and Prince Ōtomo (aka Kōbun Tennō), have drawn up their forces. Last episode we covered the fighting in the Nara Basin, around the ancient Yamato capital: Asuka. This episode focuses on the defense of the Karafu and Fuwa passes and the eventual march to the bridge at Setagawa. This is a name heavy episode, and we'll be noting some of it here: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-132 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 132: The Jinshin no Ran, Part 4: The Afumi Campaign The Afumi soldiers on the western side of the bridge looked across the open expanse of water towards their Yoshino rivals on the eastern side. If it weren't for the banners and the red tags barely visible on the sleeves of the opposing forces, it would be hard to know which side was which. Both were equipped in similar ways, and a few of the soldiers could even make out familiar faces on the other side. That is the nature of civil wars—especially in a conscript society, where the soldiers often had little choice which side they were fighting for. Not that it necessarily mattered much to them which side came out on top, whatever their commanders might have told them. The bridge across the Seta river was large and wide, and normally quite well traveled. Now, however, the central boards had been pulled up for a span of about 30 feet or so, leaving a gap spanned by only a single, narrow plank. That plank was, itself, tied to a rope, which was being held by the Afumi troops. The soldiers knew that should any of the enemy try to cross, they could pull the plank out from under them and they would fall into the river, their metal armor dragging them down into the dark depths of swirling water below. Even should they somehow make it across without being peppered by arrows, there would be no reinforcements coming: they would be slaughtered, and the trap would be reset. It seemed like the Afumi forces held all the cards in this battle, and yet they were still tense. Archers could still shoot across the distance. The front rank of troops held wooden shields as a defense, but there were still openings in the formation and the armor, and in the chaos of battle, nobody was truly safe. And so the Afumi forces waited. Confident, but wary. A commotion on the eastern side of the bridge grabbed the spotlight. The Yoshino forces had approached, and they were clearly preparing for something. The Afumi soldiers strained to see what was going on. Suddenly, the front line of the Yoshino forces parted, and a strange sight confronted the Afumi soldiers. It took them a moment to fully comprehend what was barreling towards them at full tilt: a soldier that looked almost like two soldiers put together, wearing armor placed over armor, in an attempt to protect from harm. It must have been heavy, and as he stepped on the beam, it visibly buckled under the weight. The Afumi archers let loose with their arrows and crossbow bolts, but to no avail. They simply stuck in the armor, adding to the bizarre and otherworldly appearance of their opponent. The spell was broken on the Afumi side as arrows came cascading in. The Yoshino forces weren't just sitting idly back, they were making sure they were doing everything they could to keep the Afumi forces distracted. And for a split second it worked—and a split second was all they needed. Before the soldiers could gather up their wits about them enough to pull the rope there was a terrifying sound of metal on wood. The Afumi soldiers pulled the rope, but it came all too easy—the Yoshino soldier had dashed across and cut the rope tied to the plank. Behind him, the Yoshino forces were now pouring across the bridge. Soon they would establish a foothold, and behind the front line they would be able to have other soldiers place more planks so that the number of Yoshino soldiers on the Western side of the bridge only continued to increase. Realizing that their trap had been circumvented, the Afumi forces fell back, but their strategic withdrawal soon turned into a full on retreat. While pockets of soldiers resisted, many were suddenly all too aware that perhaps it was better to live and fight another day, instead. Despite threats and even attacks from their own commanders, the Afumi forces fled the battlefield, leaving the Yoshino army victorious. With the Seta bridge now secured, there were no more major obstacles in their way: They would march to the capital at Ohotsu and finish this war. Welcome back! This is Part 4, and so if you haven't already done so, I recommend going back and starting with Part 1. That said, we'll briefly recap here. Over the past three episodes, we've talked about the causes of the war between Prince Ohotomo and Prince Ohoama as they vied for the throne. Prince Ohotomo seemingly had the stronger position, as he was actually running the Yamato state from the Afumi capital in Ohotsu. He had the various ministers and all the official organs of the state on his side. He was also 23 years old. Ohoama, on the other side, was Ohotomo's paternal uncle. His own son, Prince Takechi, was 19 years old and helping to lead the army. Upon learning that the State was gathering forces against him, Ohoama had quickly moved east, gathering forces as he went, and now he stood near Fuwa, modern day Sekigahara, prepared to begin his march on the capital. This episode we are going to cover the conclusion of the war. Warning, though, this is going to be a *lot*. A lot of place names and people names. Apologies if it is hard to follow. I'll have a rough map and info on the various players on the podcast blog, so you may want to bring that up if you are having problems following. In Part I of this series we covered the causes leading up to the conflict. In Part II we covered Ohoama's mad dash to Fuwa, at modern Sekigahara. Last episode, Part III we covered the fighting in the Nara Basin. This episode we are going to talk about the last two fronts of the war: the defense of the Iga area and Kurafu Pass, and the march from Fuwa to the Afumi capital of Ohotsu. Before we go into the details of the next battles, let's look at what each side of the conflict was doing, what they are concerned about, and where they are on the board. We'll then go into how the rest of the war played out, and its conclusion and aftermath. Ohoama's Yoshino forces had largely been drawn from the countries in the east—the very same countries that Ohoama was denying to the Afumi court. In response, the Afumi court had drawn their forces from where they could. There were those that they had already called up under the pretense of building Naka no Oe's burial mound, but they had sent others out to raise troops in Yamato and out the western side of Honshu, all the way to Tsukushi—modern Kyushu. However, not everyone in the Western region of the archipelago was friendly to the Afumi court—especially the regions of Kibi and Tsukushi. This was significant. Kibi was an ancient rival of Yamato, and likely could contribute a sizeable force. Tsukushi, on the other hand, was quite large, and besides the conscripts from among the regular inhabitants, Tsukushi also was in charge of defending the archipelago from invasion—they were the first line of defense. They had constructed numerous castles and fortifications to defend against a possible invasion, and those castles and fortifications were no doubt manned by troops that had been raised for that purpose. If they could now be turned inwards, that could be enough to really turn the tide against Ohoama and his Yoshino army. The only problem was that neither Kibi nor Tsukushi were exactly sympathetic to the Afumi court. The governor of Kibi and Prince Kurikuma, the viceroy of Tsukushi, both had ties to Ohoama, and the ministers suspected them of sympathizing with their Yoshino rivals. As such the envoys that were sent out were authorized to take whatever drastic steps they felt necessary to secure the troops. So how did that all go down? Well, last episode we talked about how Hodzumi no Momotari and his crew had been stopped from raising troops in Asuka by Ohotomo no Fukei, whose bluff of pretending to be Prince Takechi and a host of cavalry soldiers caused the conscripted troops to flee, and ended up in the death of Momotari and the capture of his compatriots. In Kibi, things took a turn in Afumi's favor. When the Afumi government's envoy arrived at the government center in Kibi, he tricked the governor into taking off his sword. Once he had done so, the envoy drew his own sword and killed the governor. Without the governor to get in his way, the envoy then went about securing the land and troops for the Afumi court. Prince Kurikuma, the viceroy in Tsukushi, at the Dazaifu, was not quite so easily fooled, however. Kurikuma knew how the court operated, and was apparently well informed of what was going on. When the Afumi court's envoy met with Kurikuma, the Prince was flanked by two of his sons, Prince Mino and Prince Takebe, each one armed. When Prince Kurikuma heard what the Afumi court wanted—for him to send the troops from Tsukushi to help quell Ohoama's rebellion—Kurikuma responded that he needed those troops to hold the border. After all, the Tang dynasty was still a potential threat, and what good would it do to send the troops from the border regions to fight an internal war, only to then have an invader come in and destroy the state entirely? No, he reasoned, he would not be sending the troops as the Afumi court requested. We are told that for a moment, the Afumi envoy thought about grabbing his sword and killing Prince Kurikuma, as the Afumi court had suggested, but with both of Kurikuma's sons armed on either side of him, he realized that he didn't have great odds, and so he eventually left, empty handed, but alive. This is significant. While we don't know exact numbers, it is likely that there were quite a few troops stationed in Kyushu and the islands, all in case of foreign invasion. By not supplying them to the Afumi court, Prince Kurikuma dealt a huge blow to the Afumi's ability to make war. Add to that the fact that Ohoama had likewise blocked the court's access to the eastern countries, and that further narrowed the troops that Afumi had access to. Nonetheless, they still had enough to be dangerous, and it is impossible to say exactly what might happen in a war. So we know where the Afumi and Yoshino forces ostensibly came from, but let's talk about the battlefield. All of the fighting that we talk about was happening in an area between Naniwa—modern Ohosaka—and Fuwa, modern Sekigahara, northwest from the modern city of Nagoya. There are three main theaters we are talking about. The first is in the Nara basin, which we talked about extensively in the last episode. The Nara basin itself was not necessarily of the most strategic importance, militarily, but it was of huge symbolic importance. After all, that was still the ancient capital, even though the governmental functions had been moved north, to Ohotsu, on the shores of Lake Biwa. The second is in the Suzuka mountains. This includes the areas of Iga and Kouka, and it is bordered by the Nara basin on the west, the Mie coastline on the east, and Afumi, the area around lake Biwa, to the north. This is the same region that Ohoama had to naviagate through on his way from Yoshino to the east, and the mountains and valleys make it so that there are only so many traversable routes through. For our narrative we are going to be primarily talking about the Kurafu Pass, between Kouka and Iga, at modern Tsuge city. This pass was an important route between Kouka, Iga, and Mie. The road followed the Soma River which eventually flowed into Lake Biwa. This made it a route out of Afumi, and if the Afumi forces could secure the Kurafu pass and the fields of Tara, just on the other side, they could split Ohoama's forces and cut off any help that he could possibly send to the Nara basin, and possibly even take Ohoama from behind. Finally, let's talk about our third theater: Afumi itself. Specifically, we are looking at the southern and eastern sides around Lake Biwa. Biwa is the largest lake in Japan, and it is almost entirely surrounded by mountains except for where the Seta river flows south, eventually winding its way to Naniwa. Today, the area of Afumi is largely co-located with modern Shiga Prefecture. Back in 668, after finding themselves on the losing side of the Baekje-Tang war, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, had moved the capital to Ohotsu, or Big Port, in Afumi, on the shores of Lake Biwa, likely for the protection it gave. From Afumi, there were three major routes out of the basin, and a few minor ones. All of them were through defensible mountain passes, like Karafu Pass, Fuwa Pass, and Suzuka Pass. Three such passes: Fuwa, Suzuka, and Arachi would become prominent barriers, or seki, along the ancient roads, and were known as the Sangen, or Three Barriers, protecting the capital region. Suzuka no seki, at the pass of the same name, was in the south. To reach it from Afumi, one crossed the Karafu pass, and then turned east through a pass near Mt. Miyama. At the northern tip of the Suzuka mountains was Fuwa pass, future home of the Fuwa barrier. The Barrier, or "Seki" would give its name to the area in another form: Sekigahara. This was along the Tousandou, the Eastern Mountain road, and even today it is the path through which roads and even the Shinkansen traverse between eastern and western Honshu. Finally, though less important to our story, was the Arachi pass. Arachi no seki was part of the Hokurikudo, the Northern Land Route, and led to the ancient country of Kochi and the port of Tsuruga, which had a long history as an alternate port, especially for ships sailing from Goguryeo. Later, Arachi no seki would be replaced in the Sangen ranking by another pass between Afumi and modern Kyoto, which would be known as the Afusaka, or Ohosaka, Pass. This was the pass that would have been used to get to Yamashiro and, from there, to Naniwa and the Nara Basin. These three passes would come to define the island of Honshu, and became the dividing line between the Kanto region, in the east, and the Kansai region, in the west. By holding the Suzuka and Fuwa passes, Ohoama effectively denied any travel to the eastern regions. Sure, Afumi could have tried going through the Arachi pass and into Kochi, but then they would have had to traverse the Japan alps—no small feat, especially without modern conveniences like the trains and busses used today. From Fuwa Pass, where Ohoama and Prince Takechi had set up their headquarters, it was largely a straight shot to the Afumi capital of Ohotsu. Between Lake Biwa and the Suzuka mountains is a wide, flat plain, divided primarily by the rivers and streams running out from the mountains into the lake. Immediately west of Fuwa is the area of Maibara. Following the shore of the lake one traverses through modern Hikone, to Yasu. Yasu would also have been the location where the road to the Karafu pass broke off into the Suzuka mountains. Beyond that was the bridge across the Seta River. The Seta river was one of the largest obstacles that would have to be negotiated, and the Afumi forces knew this. Just as Ohoama would set up at Fuwa pass, a large number of the Afumi forces were set up on the western bank of the Seta river. If the Yoshino forces could get across, however, it would mean that they had a more or less unimpeded route to the capital at Ohotsu. So now let's talk about what was happening in each of these places. Ohoama had set up at Fuwa—Sekigahara—and had begun to call soldiers to him. Not o…

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The Jinshin no Ran Part III: Fighting in the Nara Basin Aug 01, 2025

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In this third installment of our series on the Jinshin no Ran, we are covering the battles that took place in the Nara basin. Of course, while the fighting focuses on the generals, most of it was done by conscripts--farmers and other common people called up to fight. For more, check out of podcast webpage: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-131 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 131: The Jinshin no Ran, Part 3: Fighting in the Nara Basin Maro stood under the tsuki tree and gazed at the walls of the great temple. The gates and tiled roof were truly an incredible sight. Maro's home wasn't that far away, but until he'd been called up for service to the government, he hadn't thought much beyond the valley where he and his family tilled the land. Their life had been largely spent in the village, tucked up in the valley, farming rice, hunting in the mountains, and gathering firewood. He remembered how, years ago, his brothers had been the ones to go and do their service. They had been called up to build some kind of giant fortress on the top of a mountain. The stories they brought back were incredible—it was one thing to hear tales of the outside world from merchants and itinerant priests, but it was different to hear them from someone you actually knew. Now, it was Maro's turn. But he hadn't been called up for labor—he was going to have to fight. He tried to psych himself up. Many of the men and, frankly, young boys who were there with him were in a similar boat. Some were old hands, having served multiple times. Others were new and, like Maro, there for the first time. None of them were professional soldiers, though you wouldn't know that by the way some of them swaggered through the camp. They had been called up quickly, with only a little information. Apparently Prince Ohoama, they were told, had rebelled against the government. He and his men were gathering in the east and at any moment they could attack the capital in Ohotsu, and from there they would swing down and attack the ancient capital. So here they were, several hundred conscripts, pulled from households around the ancient capital, gathered and waiting for their weapons and armor so that they could then get their marching orders—quite literally. Suddenly, Maro heard a commotion in the north. He couldn't see what was happening, but the murmurs turned to shouting. Prince Takechi, the son of the demonic rebel, Ohoama, was here, coming from the north with hundreds of expert soldiers on horseback! Panic set in, and even though a few of the officers tried to quell the disturbance, it wasn't enough. Afraid for what might come, Maro and those like him broke ranks and fled. Maro gave little thought to what might happen to his family and friends if he deserted—he was no longer thinking rationally. Along with his compatriots—his would-be brothers-in-arms if they had been given any—he hoped that he could hide, and that, if he survived, maybe, just maybe, he could somehow make it back home in one piece. Welcome back. Content warning for this episode—we are going to be talking about war, including death, fighting, and suicide. As I noted at the start, this is part three of our look at the Jinshin no Ran, the Jinshin War—sometimes translated as a "Disturbance" or a "Rebellion". This was the war between the supporters of Prince Ohoama, also known as Temmu, and Prince Ohotomo, aka Koubun. Ohoama's side is sometimes called the Yoshino or even the Yamato court, as he had quote-unquote "retired" from the world and become a monk at a temple in Yoshino, south of Asuka, in the old area of Yamato. Meanwhile, Ohotomo's supporters were the Afumi court—including most of the ministers running the state from the capital in Ohotsu, on the shores of lake Biwa, the area known as Afumi. So let's take a look at what has happened so far, and then we can get into the events we are talking about today: a look at the soldiers who were fighting, their gear, and then some of the fighting that went on—specifically the fighting that happened in the Nara Basin. I'll do my best to organize things based on the rough timeline that they seem to have occurred. Now previously, we had covered how Ohoama, brother to Naka no Oe aka Tenchi Tennou, had given up his title as Crown Prince and retired, supposedly to prevent any concerns that he might rebel and try to take the throne, but this wasn't enough for Ohotomo and the Court, who had begun to raise forces against him. And so Ohoama and his supporters had just made a desperate dash eastwards, across the mountain roads to Ise. From there they secured the Fuwa and Suzuka passes, two of the main routes to the East Countries. Ohoama had then sent out requests for assistance to those same countries, hoping to find allies who would support him against the apparently legitimate government in Ohotsu. We are told that Ohoama was joined at this time by two of his sons: Prince Takechi and Prince Ohotsu. And here I want to pause to note something that I didn't point out last episode: These princes were not quite as old as you might think from the way they are portrayed in the Chronicle. Prince Takechi, who had been given command of the troops at Fuwa Barrier, was only 19 years old. Granted, that is only 4 years younger than their rival, Prince Ohotomo, and only a couple of years younger than the famous Minamoto Yoshitsune would be when he joined his brother in the Genpei Wars, over 500 years later. Prince Ohotsu, however, was a bit younger, as he is believed to have been about 10 years old at this time, which likely explains why he is not so prominent in the narrative. I mention this because the Nihon Shoki often omits details like age and can make it seem like these were all seasoned adult men and women, when it may have been that they were simply of high enough status to be mentioned, even though others were likely running their affairs for them. In Prince Takechi's case, while he was likely old enough to take charge of the forces at Fuwa, it is also clear that his father was nearby and overseeing things, so everything didn't rest solely on his son's shoulders. Meanwhile, the Afumi court was raising its own soldiers. While their delegation to the East was stopped at the captured Fuwa Pass, they also had sent word to the west. Kibi and Tsukushi are specifically mentioned, but we know that they were raising troops elsewhere, including in the home province regions of Yamato and Kawachi. Here it should be noted that the Nihon Shoki is pretty clearly pro-Temmu, in other words pro-Ohoama. There is some evidence from textual analysis, however, that the Temmu portions of the narrative differ from the Tenchi portions. Torquil Duthie, in his book, "Man'yōshū and the Imperial Imagination in Early Japan", recounts how scholarship has identified at least two—possibly three—different groups of compilers who managed different reigns. The Tenchi narrative is more neutral, while the Temmu narrative provides a bit more of an accusatory tone, and both narratives provide slightly different accounts of the same events—notably the death of Naka no Oe, Prince Ohoama taking vows, and Prince Ohotomo succeeding his father. On the other side, Duthie mentions the Kaifusou, a collection of Sinitic style poetry created in 751, just 31 years after the Nihon Shoki, where in the introduction, the author seems to be much more sympathetic to Prince Ohotomo and his cause, implying that Oama was the one rising up against the legitimate government. I mention this just to help us remember that our primary source is not exactly neutral about all of this, and we should keep that in mind as we are trying to sort out what was going on. The narrative also often makes it seem as though the outcome was inevitable, but we should remember that at the time all of these events were going down, the people involved couldn't have known how they were going to turn out— in the moment, anything could have happened, especially in times of war. Speaking of which, we know that the two sides were raising troops, so let's talk about what we know about those troops and what combat may have looked like at this time. While we don't exactly have detailed accounts, there is a lot we can piece together through the archaeological record and other sources. To that end we have evidence of armor and weapons, as well as shields, and we can also look at haniwa through the 6th and even early 7th century to give us an idea of local armor styles. Let's first look back on how soldiers were conscripted. Each household seems to have been responsible for supplying a soldier, when required. They were also to supply their equipment. This included a sword, armor, bows and arrows, as well as a flag and drum. In historical parades, today, we often see row upon row of soldiers kitted out in matching clothing, appearing relatively cohesive and well-regimented. In truth it is hard to know just how similar any one group might have been. Based on later historical examples, it is safe to assume that many of the soldiers may not have had much armor, if any, and even if they did it might have been made of wood or leather, which were unlikely to survive to the modern day. Of course, I would also question just how often they were able to afford everything mentioned. And since we are told that as the government was gathering soldiers it was also opening up storehouses of weapons and armor, I suspect that indicates that not everyone had their own. And even if they did, it may have been of questionable quality. That said, if a warrior did have armor, it was likely one of two types, variations of which were both found on the continent. The first type is characterized by a solid, circular cuirass, often called a "tankou", or short armor. These were made of strips of iron that were shaped on a wooden form and then riveted or tied together into a solid cuirass, which is why it is also called a type of "plate" armor. One side of the armor was hinged and could open so that the wearer could get in. There are some tankou with a hanging skirt of tassets that flare out as well, protecting the legs, and even examples of pieces that also go around the neck, shoulder guards, and arm guards. The tankou seems to date from at least the 3rd or 4th century, with changes in design over time, and we know that it continued through at least the 6th century. Compare this to the keikou, or hanging armor. Keikou was a kind of lamellar armor, made of individual scales, later known as "sane". These metal scales, also known as lamellae, were held together with lacing, and made for a much more flexible, and presumably comfortable, armor. The tradeoff for this comfort was that keikou likely took a lot more labor to make, and thus were considered a more elite armor, possibly used by men on horseback or at least by those leading the troops. Looking into the future a bit, we know that in the 8th century there were "tankou" and "keikou" being donated to the Shousouin repository at Toudaiji. However, it isn't clear that "tankou" and "keikou" in the 8th century referred to exactly this kind of armor, and we may have been dealing with something else entirely, because there is a lacuna in our understanding of armor on the archipelago between the end of the Asuka period and the appearance of the more familiar yoroi in the Heian period comes about. There are conjectured transitional armors, based on continental models, which are thought to have been used. Still, at this very point in time, when Ohoama is mounting his rebellion against Ohotomo, the Keikou and Tankou are generally thought to have still been in use, and this is generally how you will see the two sides represented. As for weapons, perhaps the most common that we see is the bow and arrow. Archery is extremely practical, not only for its ability to be used from a distance, but also because in times of peace people can use the same bows to hunt, thus making hunting prowess a kind of stand-in for military prowess. The way of the bow—in fact the way of the horse and bow, or Kyuuba no Michi—would be the main pillar of martial prowess in the archipelago for centuries. The iconic sword, while important—it was, after all, one of the three sacred regalia—was more of a side-arm, deployed in close quarters combat. It was still important, as it could be easily carried with you. However, it is more likely that massed troops might have had spears and various types of polearms, providing reach. Those are harder to just casually carry around, however, especially if you are mainly using a bow. Perhaps that is part of the reason that we don't hear as much about such weapons, and most of the focus seems to be on the archers and on swords. There were also at this time shields. We know that the Hayato of southern Kyushu were particularly known for them, but there evidence that they were more widely used. After all, a shield made of wood would have made an important defense against a rain of arrows coming from the enemy. As for the horses, some of them may have even had their own barding, or armor, though I suspect, again, that was rare, and reserved for elites. All of this together gives us some idea of what it may have looked like when Ohoama and Ohotomo's forces engaged in battle, though it is still conjecture. We know that they had spears, and swords, and bows. We know that some of the first men that Prince Ohoama picked up on his journey was to conscript archers to his service, who then were pressed into taking a government post station. We also don't necessarily see a lot of individual fighting described in the records, though there are exceptions. Later on, there was a tradition of individual warriors calling out challenges in the midst of battle, that became an accepted practice in the early culture of the bushi, or samurai, but we don't see that in the Chronicles. Certainly we see moments of individual valor which are remembered, likely because of the benefits that the hero's descendants could then claim for themselves. But for the most part it seems that the people actually doing the fighting were groups of conscripted soldiers, not the hired warriors of later periods. Even among groups like the Mononobe, the Be of the Warriors, it isn't clear that they would have been the ones on the front lines—not if they could help it, anyway. Most of these were farmers and similar commoners, who were called up to fight as necessary. Some of them may have seen action over on the Korean peninsula, or even in local skirmishes. Others would have been fresh out of the fields, joining the ranks for the first time. They were not exactly volunteers, but also didn't have much of a choice. It was the draft on steroids. I also suspect that the act of conscription, where a soldier was offered up by a household, or family,, meant that desertion would mean that their family would be punished. While the elite generals providing the men were no doubt gauging how this would affect their own political and economic fortunes, I imagine that the average soldier had much less agency and could look forward to many fewer rewards. In fact, I suspect his main goal would have been one of survival. Perhaps if one fought well, they could earn something more for themselves, and perhaps there were cultural concepts of loyalty to one's local elites and leadership. And maybe there were leaders who inspired them to do great things. However, works like the Nihon Shoki were rarely concerned with the lives of the common people, except when it shined a light on the sovereigns and their court. It was much more concerned with how thi…

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The Jinshin no Ran Part II: Gathering Stormclouds Jul 16, 2025

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This episode we continue with the Jinshin War. This episode we follow Prince Oama on his dramatic escape to the east: From Yoshino he dashed through the mountains, through Iga and over to Ise. In so doing he secured both Suzuka and Fuwa--areas that would be important chokepoints throughout Japan's history. For more information, check out our blogpost at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-130 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 130: Jinshin no Ran, Part II: Gathering Stormclouds. The soldier on watch was doing his best to keep alert. The night shift was never pleasant duty, and it was even less pleasant out here in the mountains. There were plenty of sounds in the night—birds and animals out in the darkness—but rarely was there much actual action. At least the sky was clear, with only the occasional cloud. Guarding a post station was hardly the worst duty in the world. There was a decent amount of traffic: after all, they were along one of the major routes between Ise and Yamato. But at night, well, who wanted to try and navigate the mountain roads? That was a great way to fall into a river and drown, or get lost in the woods, unable to find your way back to civilization. It must have been a shock when he saw a light in the distance. There were almost always a few fires somewhere in the village, but most of them were out or covered at this time of night, with the exception of the odd torch. But this was something more. At first the guard thought it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. And then he wondered if it was some kind of mountain spirit—he'd heard of ghost parades that could come and take people in the night. He shivered, and instinctively checked his own torch to ensure that it was burning well and bright. Indeed it was. It took him a little time for his eyes to adjust again to the darkness, but now, sure enough, he saw the torches coming—and not just one, many of them, and he could now hear the faint metallic clank of metal on metal. He then heard a faint sound like a tight rope being suddenly plucked. It only just started to dawn on him what was happening when the first arrows started to rain down on his position. They were under attack! Welcome back. This episode we are continuing with our coverage of the Jinshin no Ran—the Jinshin War of 672—and if you haven't already, I highly recommend you start with episode 129, where we talk about some of the background for what was happening. That said, let's do a quick recap to bring us up to speed on where we are. And then we'll dive into an account of an absolutely unbelievable journey, which is impressive for multiple reasons, but mostly for the speed at which it was able to take place. So as you may recall, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, passed away at the end of 671 after months of illness. After falling ill, the Chronicles tell us that he offered the state to his younger brother, the Crown Prince, Prince Ohoama, but Ohoama was warned that it was a trap, and as such, he turned down the offer. Instead, he retired from his position to become a monk, and left for Yoshino, taking half of his household with him. With Ohoama retired, Naka no Oe's son, the 23 year old Prince Ohotomo, took the throne. After Naka no Oe's death, Ohotomo effectively ruled Yamato from the Ohotsu palace in Afumi, running things along with the ministers of the left and right, Soga no Akaye and Nakatomi no Kane, and other high ministers. Though the Nihon Shoki does not acknowledge it, Ohotomo is thought to have been a formal sovereign, in deed if not in name, at this point. Much later, he would be given the posthumous name of "Koubun Tennou". It would seem that Ohotomo and the Afumi court had misgivings about Prince Ohoama's promise to retire from the world and not challenge the throne. The Nihon Shoki recounts that they began to make subtle preparations for a conflict, including levying men to build Naka no Oe's tomb, but issuing them weapons instead of tools. They also set up checkpoints along the road from the court in Ohotsu down to Asuka—the main route to where Ohoama was residing in Yoshino. And then, finally, someone told Ohoama that they were no longer allowing Prince Ohoama's people to cross the Uji bridge to bring him and his household supplies. Prince Ohoama was not going to sit idly by while the Afumi court gathered up enough forces to claim he was doing something treasonous and then march on him in Yoshino. And so he sent one of his trusted vassals to the east to seek support. Meanwhile, he himself was making ready to move. There was just one more thing before setting out: seeing if he could get posting bells. This was sparked by the words of one of his advisors, who suggested that they should be careful. They did not have many soldiers in Yoshino, and they had already sent out a general like Woyori to start raising troops in the East. At the same time, if the Afumi Court was also maneuvering, it was likely that they would have sent words to the various post stations to bar the roads and prevent any movement. As such, Prince Ohoama decided to send several messengers to ask for Posting Bells, so that Ohoama and his men could make use of the official horses at the various post stations, allowing them to travel much more quickly and freely. However, it was not clear if such orders had come and, if they had, where the local government officiallys might place their loyalty. Of particular importance was the case of Prince Takasaka, who was in charge of the Okamoto Palace, and thus the governance of the ancient capital. He would be the one to grant posting bells if they were to receive them. If he provided the bells, then Ohoama and his party could assume they would have little to no trouble making their way East. And so Prince Ohoama sent his evnoys to the Okamoto palace.The messengers requested posting bells, but Prince Takasaka refused to issue them. This sent a clear message to Prince Ohoama: the Afumi court had no intention of letting him and his household have free access to the roads, and the local officials in Asuka were not going to provide any support. In fact, Prince Takasaka now knew that Ohoama planned to travel, and if he wanted to, Takasaka could likely raise troops to try and stop Ohoama from leaving. At the very least he would no doubt be sending a swift horse to Ohotsu to inform the Afumi court. Ohoama and his followers would have to hurry if they wanted to do anything. And so, on the 24th of the 6th month, the same day that he got word back about the posting bells, Prince Ohoama made the decision to move. He and his entourage left quickly—he didn't even let anyone saddle a horse for him or prepare his carriage. He just started to head out on foot on a journey to the East – and keep in mind that everything I'm going to describe in the next few minutes happened over the course of one night, truly an epic journey for Ohoama and all of those with him.. The Chronicles lists about 20 men and over ten women who originally set out with Ohoama from Yoshino, including his wife, the Royal Princess Uno no Sarara, daughter of Naka no Oe. She wasn't walking, however—she followed a little behind in a palanquin, or litter, carried on poles. I do wonder if those carrying the palanquin are among those mentioned, or were they servants or even enslaved persons who weren't considered worthy of note. The path they traveled wound its way through the mountains. Streams and rivers had carved channels and valleys into these mountains. People had settled these areas, and created paths through the wilderness. Now, the valleys were fairly well populated, with roads connecting the communities that had grown up in the nooks and hollers. These facilitated trade through the mountain communities and between the eastern and western sides of the Kii peninsula, but even still, it was difficult terrain. Unlike roads in the flat plains, the width of the roads in the mountains would have been constrained by steep mountainsides and the natural twists and turns of the valleys. There may have been rope or wooden bridges that they had to cross, as streams constantly flow down the hill sides to the river below. This route would make it much easier to avoid any official Afumi forces that might have been sent out, as those would likely be sticking to the main roads, but there were still government outposts along the way. If these outposts proved loyal to the Afumi court, they could raise the alarm and send a messenger on horseback, who could likely flee much more quickly than Ohoama's men could follow. And if Afumi learned that Ohoama was on the move, they could quickly mobilize their forces, secure key strategic points, and Ohoama's mad rush would be for naught. The path Ohoama chose would lead from Yoshino, through the valleys, up through Iga, and then over to Suzuka, in Ise—modern Mie prefecture. The journey was long and it wasn't going to be easy, but they needed to move quickly. Speaking of which, since Ohoama was traveling on foot, one of his men, Agata no Inukahi no Ohotomo, gave Prince Ohoama his own horse to ride. Oh, and in case you are wondering: There are a lot of people named "Ohotomo" in the narrative, not just the Prince, Ohoama's nephew and rival for the throne. Sorry, it was apparently a somewhat popular name AND it was also a clan, or uji, name as well. I'll try to distinguish some of them in the podcast blog page. The party hadn't traveled far when Ohoama's own carriage—or possibly a palanquin, like his wife's—showed up for him, so I assume Ohotomo got his horse back, but they were still constrained to the speed of their slowest member, and I doubt that the mountain roads were all that wide and flat—most likely just the opposite. The group journeyed upstream along the Tsuburo river and eventually made it to Aki, in the area of Uda, due east of Sakurai and Mt. Miwa. Here they were overtaken by two men, known as Ohotomo no Muraji no Makuda and Kibumi no Muraji no Ohotomo, both hurrying on from the Yoshino Palace. Makuda had been at the Afumi court, but word was starting to spread there that there was going to be some kind of move against Prince Ohoama, so he and his brother, Ohotomo no Fukei, had feigned illness and returned to their home in the Asuka region. Once there, Makuda had made straightaway for Yoshino, only to find that Ohoama was already on the move. Ohotomo no Fukei, on the other hand, chose to stay in the area of Asuka and see what he could do there. He was looking to see what kind of forces he could raise in the ancient capital region. We'll learn more about him, later. It was also in Aki, apparently, where they met Hashi no Muraji no Mate, who was from the Department of the official rice fields. Even though he was a government official, he was a supporter of Ohoama and his cause, and so he supplied Ohoama and his people with food for their journey. Just north of the Aki fields they came upon Kammura—thought to be near modern Kaguraoka—where the Yoshino forces conscripted 20 hunters into service, almost doubling their numbers, and now they at least had some weapons with them. Prince Mino, and presumably his men, also joined forces with Ohoama and his party—their ranks were starting to grow. In Uda, they were no doubt glad of any assistance, and at the government offices in the village of Uda itself, they were also warmly welcomed. There they found 50 pack-horses that were laden down with rice meant for the hot baths at Ise. The rice was discarded and Ohoama commandeered the pack animals so that his forces could ride, rather than walk. Nonetheless, it was still a long way to go. Indeed, night was approaching by the time they reached Ohono—likely the modern area of Muro-ohono and Ohonoji, along the Uda river. They didn't want to stop, but it could be treacherous trying to navigate in the mountains in the dark. What they needed was a light source. And so we are told that they pulled down some of the fences of nearby houses and created makeshift torches to light their way. Thus they were able to continue on until they reached the town of Nabari at approximately midnight. Nabari was not quite so friendly. It was the home of a post-station, which had a duty to report things to the Afumi court. Ohoama and his men arrived with their torches and in the middle of the night they attacked and set fire to the post station. One can only imagine how surprised those manning the station must have been. Presumably Ohoama's party took any horses and provisions, both for their own use and so that they couldn't be used against them. To those members of the village that were woken up and who came out to see what was going on, Ohoama's entourage proclaimed that Prince Ohoama was heading east and that people should join them. More specifically we are told that he said that the "Sumera no Mikoto" was on his way to the East Country. I want to pause here a moment, because there are some that say that this was the first use of the term "Sumera no Mikoto", or, as we more commonly read the characters today, "Tennou". At the very least we believe that the term "Tennou" may have first used in this time period—though I do wonder about it being used in this particular instance. I'll come back to this at the end, but for now, let's get back to the story. So Ohoama announced to the people that he, the sovereign—for he had declared himself as such—was heading to the Eastern lands, and he invited anyone who wished to join him. Nobody took him up on his offer, however. It must have sounded crazy. Ohoama had swept in at midnight, his forces carrying torches, and had attacked the post station, the symbol of the government in their midst. I imagine that the people wanted little to nothing to do with any further conflict if they could help it. Continuing on in the darkness, Ohoama and his party came to a river—probably the Nabari River. The Chronicle refers to it as "Yokokawa", a term that shows up multiple times, and means something like "side river" and I suspect it was just the name for a river that ran alongside the fields or something similar. As they were crossing, a dark cloud spread across the night sky for over 10 rods—about 100 feet. Ohoama kindled a light and took a look at a geomantic rule to determine what it could mean. This "rule" was possibly a type of stick or even a kind of compass-like device with a square bottom and round top, indicating the heavens and the earth. He announced to everyone that the cloud was an omen that the country would be divided into two parts but, ultimately, their side would win out. One can only imagine how tired and worn out everyone was at this point, but apparently this urged them onward. They reached Iga, where once again, they attacked and set fire to the posting station. Now getting through Iga must have had Ohoama's head on a swivel. After all, Prince Ohotomo's mother was apparently from that region – he was the Iga Royal Prince, after all - so it would be understandable if people were loyal to him. Fortunately, for Ohoama, he had his local supporters as well. In fact, Joan Piggot points out in "The Emergence of Japanese Kingship" that Ohoama may have had a surprising amount of support from the various local elites. Remember that the policies that Naka no Oe and the court had put into place had given power to court appointed officials at the expense of the traditional local elites. So it may have been that those traditional local elites were more inclined to assist Ohoama against the Afumi Court, while those appointed officials, such as those who were managing the post stations, were more likely to swing the other way,…

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The Jinshin no Ran, Part I: Prologue to War Jul 01, 2025

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The sovereign, Naka no Oe is dead, and with his death comes an all too familiar tradition: different factions warring for the throne. And this time it isn't just something we are guessing at, we get a front row seat to the show, with enough details to fill several episodes. In Part I we will look at what kicked off the war--or at least what we know--and discuss a few of the theories. We will also go over some of the events that happened while Prince Otomo was the head of state. For more, check out our podcast webpage at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-129 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 129: The Jinshin no Ran, Part I: Prologue to War. The long bridge at Uji arched over the river, like a wooden rainbow. Former Crown Prince Ohoama, his head shaved and wearing the garments of a monk, was carried over the bridge. This was no simple priestly procession, however: he was accompanied by his entire household. Some on foot, and some on horseback. Even the kesa, once meant to be a symbol of priestly humility and simplicity, cried out that this was a man of wealth and power and status. The procession made its way across the bridge, headed south, to the ancient Yamato capital and then on to the mountain passes beyond, where the cherry trees would bloom, come the spring. At the north end of the bridge, the high ministers and nobility of Yamato watched them go. The ministers of the Left and the Right stood in the cold, winter air, wrapped in their warmest clothing, but it wasn't just the weather that was causing a chill. To some, this seemed a miracle—a clear sign that the succession would now be an easy one, with Ohoama taking himself off the board. But to others, they weren't so sure. While many of Yamato's traditions had evolved or changed—or even been outright replaced by continental ideas—many still remembered how things had been. The bloody politics and power struggles that often accompanied any transition of power. Naka no Oe had risen to power in just such a fashion. Now that he was not long for this world, would his legacy be any less violent? Greetings, everyone, and welcome back. Last episode we took you through the official reign of Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou. Granted, this reign was only from 668 to 671, but Naka no Oe had already been putting his stamp on the state for over 33 years. Now, however, he was dead, as were those who had helped him implement his enormous changes, and with his death there was the question: Who would now ascend to the throne? And that question brings us to today's topic: The Jinshin no Ran, also known as the Jinshin War. This was a succession dispute that occurred in the year 672 following the death of Naka no Oe, between Naka no Oe's son Ohotomo and his brother Ohoama. The name, "Jinshin", is formed much as the name of the "Isshi" incident, using the sinified Japanese reading of the sexagenary cycle characters used for the year. 672 was a "Mizu-no-e Saru" year, or what we today might just call a "Water Monkey" year. Read together, these characters can be pronounced "Jinshin", hence "Jinshin no Ran". Quick digression: That word "Ran", indicating a war or similar martial disturbance, is the same character used as the title of the famous Kurosawa film that took Shakespear's King Lear story and set it in the Warring States period of Japan. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it—definitely a classic. Not exactly relevant here, but still worth it. But back to the Jinshin War: we're going to likely spend a few episodes on this, not just because it is important, but also because the record is fairly detailed, and I'd like to use it to really help us get an idea of what was going on. This episode we'll look at the broad picture: some of the causes of the war and where things were, generally speaking, just before the major campaigns kicked off. Of course, this isn't the first succession dispute in the Chronicles, but this one is incredibly detailed, and especially importantbecause it goes to the heart of the legitimacy of the royal family—the imperial family—for at least the next century. To a certain extent, I would also suggest that it was exactly the kind of thing that the Nihon Shoki was created to address: an official history as propaganda for the Japanese court, telling the court approved story of the royal family and providing justification as to why they are in power. Along the way it also props up the lineages of other elites. So let's go over the basic story of the conflict before we get into the details. I know, I know: spoilers. But I think it will help to have context for what we are talking about right now. To try to summarize: Ohoama, Naka no Oe's brother, is mentioned as the Crown Prince throughout Naka no Oe's reign, but just before Naka no Oe's death, Ohoama declined the position and went to Yoshino to become a Buddhist monk. This allowed Naka no Oe's son, Prince Ohotomo, the current Dajo Daijin, or head of the council of state, to run the government and eventually take the throne. However, shortly into Prince Ohotomo's reign, Ohoama raised an army and fought with Ohotomo and the court at Ohotsu-kyo, known as the Afumi court. After a couple of months of intense fighting, Ohoama defeated the Afumi forces and Ohotomo. Ohoama would go on to take the throne, becoming known as Temmu Tennou. He is credited with starting the projects that culminated in the creation of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki. On the surface, this could easily look like a simple case of usurpation—especially if you come from a cultural background where sons are expected to inherit from their fathers, as is common in many European monarchies. However, we have to remind ourselves that this isn't Europe. For centuries, succession in Yamato had been much more chaotic than that. Often succession went not to a son or daughter, but first to a brother, and even then it didn't necessarily go to the oldest brother, or to the oldest child. Even designating an heir wasn't a guarantee that, after a ruler's death, someone else wouldn't come along and change things by force. Of course, the Nihon Shoki appears to lay out various rules for succession. In most cases, your mother has to be descended—however distantly—from a previous sovereign. Also, inheritance typically doesn't come at the attainment of adulthood. It isn't like someone turns 20 and they are suddenly eligible. We see plenty of reigns that are passed off as regencies—that is, the sovereign is legally just a caretaker for the throne until the true heir comes of age. Perhaps the most famous of these is Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jingu Tenno, who supposedly held the throne from the death of her husband until their son, Homuda Wake, aka Ojin Tenno, was of age. But it isn't like she just abdicated. In fact, I don't think we've seen a single example where a regent has abdicated the throne. The only real abdication that we see is in 645, when Takara Hime, known as Kogyoku Tenno during her first reign, abdicated after the Isshi Incident. There are also plenty of examples of possible claimants to the throne who certainly seem like they may have been supremely qualified for the position who end up dying or being killed, sometimes with the specific claim that they were trying to usurp the throne. The most recent example is Furubito no Oe, who likely was in line to inherit the throne from Takara Hime prior to the Isshi Incident. It doesn't help that the Chronicle often only calls people by their titles: so it is the "Crown Prince" who does such and such, or it is "the sovereign"—without explicitly naming who that person is. Of course, this is sometimes made clear by context, but that can't always be relied upon. This is compounded by the fact that at this time, Wa cultural norms were being overwritten by continental concepts of propriety and morality, with the growth of reading and continental works introducing many people to the discourses of Confucius and others. Borrowing governmental structures and ideas from a Confucian state meant that Confucian ideals would get pulled along as well, even if those structures and ideas weren't strictly Confucian. An example is the importance of filial piety, and so-called "Proper" relationships between people. In some cases Confucian or even Buddhist concepts were used to explain and rationalize existing traditions, and in others they were used to provide a counter-narrative. Thus the world described by the Nihon Shoki is one that was no doubt much more comprehensible to an 8th century member of court than to someone from the 3rd. I say all that so that we can keep an eye out for the Chroniclers' bias and perhaps give some thought to what might not have gotten written down. The creation of the Ritsuryo state was the culmination of over 33 years of work. During that time, the Yamato court had centralized their power and control. The Chronicles, looking back at the end of the process, report this as a good thing, and it is hard to argue that these reforms truly did lead to the country of Japan as we know it, today. However, it probably wasn't all lollipops and rainbows. The centralization of authority received pushback, and we see the center flexing its military might as well as legal and moral authority. The new Ritsuryo state claimed a much greater control over land and resources than any previous government had done or been able to do. Even if the 5th century sovereign Wakatakeru no Ohokimi, aka Yuryaku Tenno, had people at his court from Kyushu to Kanto, influence isn't the same as control. Up until the Ritsuryo reforms, it appears that local administrators had a lot of leeway in terms of what happened in their local domains. After all, what could Yamato do about it? As long as "taxes" were paid, then there was no reason for Yamato to otherwise interfere with local events, and even if there were, who would they get to enforce their will? But In the Ritsuryo system, at least conceptually, the State had local governors who reported back to the central authority. These governors were set apart from the Kuni no Miyatsuko, the traditional local authority, and their income was tied to the court. Moreover, this system wasn't just tradition and the whims of the elites: it was codified in written laws and punishments. In fact, the Record of the Fujiwara—the Toushi Kaden—claims that the entire legal code was written down in 668 by their patriarch, Nakatomi no Kamatari, prior to his death. There are also other references to this compilation, known to us as the "Oumi Code", referencing the region that the court had moved to: Afumi, around Lake Biwa. Unfortunately, we don't have any extant copies of what, exactly, the Code said, other than various laws explicitly noted in the Nihon Shoki. Still, we can assume that it was probably similar to later codes, which would have been using the Oumi code as a base from which to work from. The new authority for this code descended from the throne, based on continental and even Confucian concepts of the State. And Naka no Oe had no doubt been the one to help maintain continuity over the past three decades. Now he was dead, so what came next? Well based on what we have in the Nihon Shoki, that should be obvious: His brother, the Crown Prince, Ohoama, would take the throne, wouldn't he? After all, he was the designated Crown Prince, and he had been in that role, promulgating orders, and otherwise acting as we might expect, at least since Naka no Oe had given up the position. And yet, it seems there was some doubt. After all, while a brother—or sister—inheriting the throne was hardly unheard of, Naka no Oe did have children of his own. Most importantly, there was his son, Prince Ohotomo. Ohotomo was only about 23 years old, but he had been made the Dajoudaijin, the head of the Council of State, which one would think would put him in a position of tremendous authority. Naka no Oe apparently had some inkling that there could be a succession dispute upon his death. And so, two months after he had taken ill, as it became painfully obvious that he might not recover, he called in his brother, Crown Prince Ohoama, and he told him clearly that it was his intention to have his brother succeed him on the throne. Before going much further, I would note that the entries in the Nihon Shoki that speak to this incident are spread across two different books in that chronicle. Part of it takes part in the chronicle of Tenji Tennou (Naka no Oe), but then the reign of Temmu Tennou (Ohoama) is actually broken up into two books, the first of which is often considered the history of the Jinshin Ran, while the second is really Temmu's reign. And in some cases we get slightly different versions of the same event. The Nihon Shoki was written less than 50 years after the events being discussed, so likely by people who had actual memory of what happened, it was also propaganda for the regime in power at the time. So as we read through the events, we have to be critical about our source and what it is telling us. To that end, I'll mostly start out with the narrative as it appears in the Nihon Shoki, and then we can look back and see what else might be going on if we make some assumptions that the Chroniclers may not be the most reliable of narrators for these events. Anyway, getting back to the story as we have it in the Nihon Shoki: So the person sent to fetch Prince Ohoama to come see his brother, the sovereign, was a man by the name of Soga no Yasumaru. And Yasumaru brought not only the summons, but a warning, as well. He told Prince Ohoama to "think before you speak". This suggested to Ohoama that there was some kind of plot afoot. And lest we forget, for all that Naka no Oe is often put up on a pedestal for his role in the Taika reforms and founding the nation—even the posthumous name they gave him was the "Sovereign of Heavenly Wisdom"—that pedestal he stands on is covered in blood. Naka no Oe's political career starts with the brazen murder of Soga no Iruka in full view of all the gathered nobility, and is immediately followed with him marshalling forces against Soga no Emishi, who set fire to his own house rather than surrender. And then, shortly into the Taika period, Naka no Oe had his own brother, Furubito no Oe, killed so that he wouldn't be a threat. And later, when he just heard a rumor that Soga no Ishikawa no Maro—his father-in-law, Prime Minister of the Right, and co-conspirator—was having treasonous thoughts, he gathered up forces to have him and his family murdered. And though it may have been a bit less bloody, let's not forget his apparent falling out with his uncle, Karu, where he left the giant palace complex at Naniwa and took the entire royal family to Asuka against his uncle, the sovereign's, wishes. Add to that the note from the Fujiwara family records, the Toushi Kaden, about the party at the "shore pavilion" where Ohoama spiked a spear through a plank of wood which rattled Naka no Oe enough that he was contemplating having him taken out right there. According to that account, it was only the intervention of Nakatomi no Kamatari that saved Ohoama's life. Even if it weren't true, it likely illustrates something about how their relationship was viewed by others. Given all of that, I think we can understand how Ohoama might not be entirely trusting of his older brother's intentions. So when that same brother offered him control of the government, Ohoama was suspicious. Perhaps it was because he was already the Crown Prince, the e…

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