Episode 97: Asukadera and Shitennōji

November 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Face and right hand of the Asuka Daibutsu at the current Asukadera. The face and right hand are thought to possibly be original, dating to the early 7th century, while the body appears to have been repaired—possibly having been recast in the form of the original after a fire in 1196. Photo by author.

This episode we start to look at some of the earliest temples, with recorded dates in the Nihon Shoki. Specifically we are going to look at Asukadera and a little bit at Shitennōji.

Painting of Asukadera as it may have looked in the Asuka period, as found on a dedicatory board at the modern Asukadera. It shows the layout of the pagoda and halls and the lecture hall in the rear.

Model of Asukadera from the later Asuka period. Photo by author, taken at the Asuka Historical Museum.

Colorized photo of Shitennōji from before the typhoon that destroyed the main pagoda, requiring it to be rebuilt. This view is looking from the northeast corner, behind the image hall and out towards the central gate.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 97: Asukadera and Shitennouji.
First off, quick shout out to Craig for supporting us on Ko-Fi.com. We’ll have more information on how you can help support the show at the end of the episode.
To recap so far, we are still in the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, in the 6th and early 7th centuries—though for this episode we are going to step back a little bit as much of this has origins in the 6th century, looking at the early spread of Buddhism and the founding of some of the first permanent temple complexes—specifically Asukadera in, well, Asuka, and Shitennouji in the area of modern Ohosaka.
As we’ve seen, Yamato was in the process of importing various things from the mainland—both material culture and immaterial things as well, including philosophy and religion. By religion, of course, we are talking about Buddhism, which we’ve already covered to some extent in Episodes 85 and 88, but let’s go over a little bit of the history, shall we, and catch up with what has been happening since.
Buddhism had likely been coming over to the archipelago since the arrival of Buddhist immigrants from Baekje and elsewhere, though their religion is not much discussed. After all, the Nihon Shoki is focused largely on the Yamato royal family and the court, and so other than groups of immigrants beings settled and possibly organized into family groups, there wasn’t much call to look into their day to day practices.
It is also difficult to know just how far Buddhism had penetrated into the lower ranks of society on the continent, as well. Certainly the courts had adopted Buddhism, but to what extent it was part of the daily lives of the common person, I don’t know that I could say with any certainty. Still, we can imagine that there were likely those who came over to the archipelago with an extant belief in the Buddha and some inkling of the rites and other aspects of Buddhist worship. Did they set up small temples in their villages? Or convert a house into a shrine? Or did they just keep private practice and worship? We don’t know, and as far as I’ve come across we don’t seem to have any conclusive evidence via the archaeological record, either. And so we are left with the written record and what it has to say on the subject.
The Nihon Shoki notes the first official mention of Buddhism in the archipelago as the arrival of a Buddhist statue from Baekje. The official record puts this in the year 552, in the reign of Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, and credits Soga no Iname with taking and building the first temple and setting up the first temple by repurposing his own house—or at least some part of his property. Other families, however, opposed the Soga’s attempts at bringing in and establishing this new religion and ultimately ended up destroying that first temple, tossing the image into the river.
This whole thing repeated itself in 584, about 32 years later—Silla had given Yamato a Buddhist image in 579, and then an image of Miroku, aka Maitreya, and an image of the Buddha, aka Shakyamuni, were both found. Soga no Umako, Iname’s son and successor to his role as Oho-omi, took the two images and had a temple once again built, importing specialists and setting up three nuns to attend to the appropriate rituals. Once again, the Soga’s opponents, led by the powerful Mononobe family, cried foul and had the temple destroyed and the nuns stripped of their robes.
There are a few things about this account that are more than a bit sus, however. First, there is mention of that first Buddha image in both the Joguki, the record of the life of Prince Shotoku Taishi, as well as a record from Gangoji Garan Engi, a record from Gangoji temple—which is to say Asukadera, one of the temples we’ll be talking about, today. In those records we find a different date for the first Buddha image, with its arrival coming in 538, not 552. That would have put its arrival a year before Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, took the throne. It is also rather interesting at just how much the two stories parallel each other, and one has to wonder if they were really two separate stories or if they were one story that got attributed to different members of the Soga family, for some reason. It is also possible that they are different stories, but with similar elements that got conflated across each other. Or it really was a matter of déjà vu, with the experience of Soga no Umako paralleling that of his father, Iname. We also cannot discount some massaging of the text. For one thing, they put it in the reign of Amekunioshi, who had a different maternal line than his previous two successors and elder half-brothers. There may have been political reasons to keep the stories as they were and, hopefully, keep the story relatively tidy.
Regardless of why, the implication seems clear that by 585 there were people in Yamato with some knowledge of Buddhism, as well as the necessary artisans and craftspeople to create a continental style temple complex.
In the following years, the fight between the Soga and the Mononobe escalated with the death of sovereign and the ensuing succession dispute. The Mononobe and their candidate, Prince Anahobe, were destroyed by forces in league with the Soga family. During that conflict, which we covered in Episodes 90 and 91, there was a point where both Soga no Umako and his nephew, the young Prince Umayado, each prayed to the Buddha for victory, promising to erect a temple if they succeeded. Indeed, they did succeed, and based on their vows, two temples were eventually created.
The first temple is known as Asukadera, or the Temple of Asuka, although it also is known by its official name of Hokoji, and later Gangoji. Construction of Hokoji started in 588, and is attributed to Soga no Umako.
The second temple is Shitennoji, or the Temple of the Four Heavenly Kings. We’ll talk about them a bit more, later, but the Four Heavenly Kings are four gods, who appear to pre-date Buddhism, who were co-opted into the Buddhist pantheon as protectors of Buddhism, each one representing a cardinal direction. Shitennouji’s traditional founding is given to us as 593.
Both of these temples still exist, in one form or another. If you go to Asuka, today, you can find a small Asukadera on the site of the previous temple, but it is much reduced from its original form. When it was built, Asukadera would have been at the center of the political heartland of Yamato. It was the land of the Soga, but also the location of the palace of Kashikiya Hime, and it likely rivaled her palace for pride of place in Asuka. However, when the capital eventually moved away from Asuka—first to nearby Kashihara, but then across the Nara basin to Heijo-kyo, modern Nara city—the temple buildings were removed to Nara, to modern day Gankouji, though the site of Houkouji continued to be used as a small, local temple.
The modern temple in Asuka does have a Buddha statue, however, that they believe to have been the original Daibutsu, or Giant Buddha, known as the Asuka Daibutsu. It changed hands many times over the centuries, but has since come back to Asuka, though a little worse for wear.
Shitennouji, on the other hand, is in the heart of modern Ohosaka, in the Tennoji ward. The buildings of Shitennouji have been rebuilt numerous times, although supposedly by the same construction company, one of the oldest businesses in the world, and they remain in their original configuration. Since they’ve been rebuilt, however, this is why you will often hear of another temple, Horyuji, also associated with Prince Shotoku Taishi, as being the oldest temple in Japan, as it has the oldest extant buildings. Make no mistake, however—Asukadera and Shitennouji were founded first, and both still survive in some manner.
These two temples do a lot to help us better understand Buddhism and its influence, but also helps us understand more than that. They help us look into the politics of the time, and even illuminate some of the apparent tensions between different immigrant groups from Baekje and Silla that were becoming more and more prominent in Yamato.
Of the various early temples that were built, Asukadera is perhaps one of the most well-documented, both in the historic record as well as the archaeological evidence. Donald McCallum, in his book, “The Four Great Temples”, notes that serious study of Asukadera began around the Meiji and into the Taisho era, in particular calling out the work of Fukuyama Toshio, published in 1934. Up to that point, it was mostly looking at the histories—both the Nihon Shoki and also works like the Gangouji Engi, the record of Gangouji, the later name for Asukadera. He determined that much of the record, though it claimed to have been written by Shotoku Taishi himself, was actually written later than the Nihon Shoki, based on linguistic analysis. However, there were some sections that appear to be earlier or contemporaneous with the Nihon Shoki, likely pulled from other works, which the Nihon Shoki may have been pulling from as well, including inscriptions on the extant temple buildings at the time. This was determined by things like the grammar and Sinitic characters used, as well as the lack of terms like “Tennou”, which still were not in use until later periods. It is also interesting to note that Shotoku Taishi is referred to in the document by the name “Prince Umayado no Toyotomimi”
Based on that analysis, it seems fairly certain that Soga no Umako was, indeed, largely responsible for donations to build Asukadera, although the Nihon Shoki gives credit to Kashikiya Hime as well. That and certain other features of the Nihon Shoki account were probably added later, possibly at the urging of the Gangouji priests themselves, to stress a stronger connection with the Yamato royal family rather than just Soga no Umako.
The text gives a brief history of Buddhism, which is where we see Buddhism being introduced as early as 538, though it seems to suggest this was still in the reign of Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, rather than his predecessors. Soga no Iname is still given much of the credit, though there is a note about Kashikiya Hime also installing a Buddhist icon in her own quarters at one point—something not mentioned in the Nihon Shoki. It does mention the various pro- and anti-Buddhist arguments and steps that the various sides took, including Umako having three nuns ordained and them being eventually defrocked—though without mention of them being whipped, which may have been too much or could be sensationalist additions to the Nihon Shoki text.
One thing that is notably missing in the Gangouji Engi, at least as McCallum summarizes it, is mention of the Mononobe and Soga conflict, and so there is no mention of any special vow that was made to build Asukadera if they were victorious—let alone anything about the vow to build Shitennouji. Instead, it is instigated by the three nuns, who request both a nunnery and a monastery, each with at least 10 ordained nuns or priests, as that was the number required for many of the rites and to ensure proper ordination could take place in the future, thus allowing them to grow the religion. These two temples would need to be close enough so that they could each hear the bells from the other.
Although priests were requested from Baekje, too few came over in response, which is why the nuns themselves were sent over to get a proper ordination. They return in 590 and urge the completion of the two temples—Asukadera and Toyouradera, the latter using the land that was previously Kashikiya Hime’s palace prior to her moving to the Oharida palace site, nearby.
All of that was based on the extant texts, but there were also archaeological excavations that took place in 1956 to 1957, as well as later investigations in and around Asuka Temple and the general area. Even today, excavations in the regions are ongoing, and in a recent visit I saw them excavating nearby palace ruins. Fortunately, the area has not seen the kind of heavy urban development, whether in the modern or pre-modern period, that many other areas have gone through, with much of the land having been returned to farmland, and the importance of the area, today, is well understood.
The initial excavations were a bit surprising. Based on extant temples such as Shitennoji, it was expected that Asukadera would have been planned out in such a way that there was a straight line from the central gate, to the pagoda and the kondou, or golden hall, sometimes called an image hall, with the koudou, or lecture hall, in back. Often there is some separation of the lecture hall from the other two. These buildings are both connected and separated by gates, walls, and pathways, including covered cloisters along the wall, which conforms to the pattern of temples on the Korean peninsula as well. This is very reminiscent of the Baekje layout for temples, and may include other elements such as belfries or similar.
The three main buildings each serve a purpose. As we noted back in Episode 84, the Pagoda had replaced the Stupa, and was often a reliquary, holding relics of some kind. Then there is the Kondou—literally golden halls, as many of the statues and other artwork would be gilded and designed to reflect light, often shining out from the darkness with the goal of leading more people to consider enlightenment. These are the halls where images are placed—hence the other term, “image hall”—whether metal, wood, stone, et cetera.
The pagoda and the kondou may be areas of personal worship, with believers coming to visit them, perhaps to venerate a particular aspect of the Buddha or contemplate something, and images or particular relics are often ascribed particular spiritual power. Often these are included together or near one another.
On the other hand the koudou, or Lecture Hall, also known as the Ordination Hall, would be the place for sermons and various ceremonies. In many ways these are the “working” areas of a temple, and while they often have images and are ornately adorned, they have, in some ways, a more utilitarian function, and in many early temple layouts they are often held apart from the pagoda and kondou in some way.
At Asukadera, the excavations revealed that it was not planned out in the standard three building model, all lined up, as had been expected. Instead, there was a walled courtyard, with cloisters around the sides and a central gate that led to a pagoda in the middle of the area. Then there were three buildings, identified as individual kondou, or image halls, spaced equally to the left, right, and behind the pagoda. A larger building was then found behind the walled courtyard area, determined to be the temple’s lecture hall. All of this was enclosed in another wall, which seems to have defined the larger area of the temple.
This layout is fairly unique. It doesn’t exactly fit anything we’ve seen in Baekje or Silla temples of the period, and most closely resembles something out of Goguryeo. It may be worth noting that there are records that claim the King of Goguryeo provided funds to help build temples in Japan, and that some of the monks involved, including the monk Eben, or Hyephyeon, who helped initially ordain the Zenshin and her fellow nuns, was said to be a man from Goguryeo, and so may have had some influence on the design.
On the other hand, the rooftiles found at the Asukadera site are very much in the Baekje tradition. Up to this point, there is no indication that the Japanese were using rooftiles in their construction, and were likely using thatching, much as many Shinto shrines continue to use to this day. The use of rooftiles is thought to have started with Buddhist temples, and occurred much earlier than their use in other buildings, including palace buildings. Since rooftiles were ceramic, they required different construction techniques so that the roof could support the weight, which would further explain the need to import craftsmen from the continent to help build these structures.
Rooftiles are not necessarily the most exciting thing for people wandering through a museum. Often one is looking at weapons, jewelry, or haniwa statues, and suddenly you come across a plethora of tiles from different buildings, and it can be easy to just glance past. Without understanding what you are looking at, the rooftiles often seem the same—or same-ish. The majority of the tiles are plain, without much distinction. End tiles—whether round or flat—often have similar decorations, such as lotus flowers, and they are often very similar to one another. Furthermore, these are rarely refined works of art—tiles were meant to be mass produced and were often created quickly to meet the demands of construction.
Despite all of this, I think it is worth recognizing that the rooftiles are often important to helping archaeologists, especially when the rest of the building is no longer extant. Rooftiles often would fall off and get buried, or even be reused in some way to edge a gutter or something similar. However, how they are made, the molds that were used, the composition of the clay, etc. can all be analyzed to provide information about the age and size of a structure, helping to know when different buildings may have been built or rebuilt, as well as providing some information on where the materials were coming from. And for those who want to learn more, you can be sure that every part of a tile has its own specialized name and vocabulary—it is something that you can really delve deep into if that is your thing.
The rooftiles at Asukadera are somewhat odd in that they are not as uniform as one might expect, and this may come from the fact that they had imported different tile makers from Baekje, and so each one set up their workshop with slightly different standards. Later, as Yamato as more temples and other continental style buildings were built, these would become larger, more standardized industries. Still, that they seem to conform to the general patterns found in Baekje speaks, again, to the location that the craftsmen were likely from, as well as the connections mentioned in the texts.
And so we see at least Baekje and possibly Goguryeo influence on the design of this temple.
One other thing that has been found is the stone pedestal for an image in the central image hall. We know that at some point a large image was crafted, and the Asuka Daibutsu, or Giant Buddha Image of Asuka, is still extant, and the stone pedestal was likely where it or a similar image sat at some point. However, just when this image was created and installed is still unknown—there are references to various images, but nothing that can be directly attributed to the current Asuka Daibutsu, though various scholars have identified it as being consistent with the Asuka style from at least the 7th century.
The earliest information talks about the stone Miroku, or Maitreya, image that Kafuka no Omi brought back. It was probably not that large, and it seems that it was eventually enshrined at Asukadera in some form. There are mentions of various icons made in the early 7th century as well, which could refer to this. It is said that it was made in 609 by Kuratsukuri no Tori, though that is not without controversy. It was damaged in a fire in 1196, which was originally thought to have destroyed everything. Indeed, an examination of the image has shown that it appears to have been reconstructed, though there is some evidence that the face and right hand are likely original, while the rest of the body was refashioned, probably from the burnt and melted pieces that were damaged in the fire. It still sits in the Angoin at the modern site of Asukadera, for anyone who wants to come and see it.
Taken together, this can give us some idea of what it took to build the temple. Previous so-called temples appear to be conversions of local buildings, with perhaps some work on building a proper pagoda, but at Asukadera they went full-out to build according to the continental standards. That said, there has been a significant amount of ink spilled over just how this process went.
Based on the Nihon Shoki, it would almost appear that everything arrived, fully formed, at the end of 588. As I’ve noted previously, the way that the Nihon Shoki records read it can sometimes be difficult to figure out exactly what happened when, as a single entry will often contain details that must have happened before or after the date of the entry itself, and it isn’t entirely clear exactly what happened on the referenced date, in many cases. Furthermore, since the Chroniclers were pulling from other sources, there is always the possibility that they, themselves, misinterpreted something. Finally, I would note that their primary goal was to give readers and idea of what happened that conformed with what was known as true and what supported the state institutions. Would it have mattered to them exactly when Asukadera was built, as long as it was generally right and in the regards to the appropriate sovereign and nobles? Probably not.
It likely would have taken some time to pull everything together. There would have been planning sessions, and drawings. They would have to harvest the right kind of wood and shape it based on the designs, and an entire industry of tile-making would have to be set up, likely with local hands learning the process. Similarly, woodcarvers would have already existed, but they would likely need to learn new techniques to account for the continental design. And then there were the various rituals that would need to be carried out. This is all in addition to any stonework, special metalwork, or other such things that had not been previously done in the archipelago. On top of that, there would have been issues of translation, with immigrant artisans directing their various groups of craftsmen.
It is possible that work for planning the temple began as early as 588—which may have just been the request for more craftsmen—and then in 596, when we have textual evidence that some part of the temple was “finished”, that may have been nothing more than the pagoda by that time. It is then unclear whether the other buildings were finished together or in separate phases—perhaps the central image hall was finished, and then the two on the sides of the pagoda were added at a later date. Images may have also been shifted around as new images, like the Asuka Daibutsu, were completed. Many scholars have argued for different interpretations based on their readings of the texts, but none of the evidence is so clear as to be incontrovertible.
What is clear is that this was a grand temple, and that would have been equally clear to everyone who viewed it. Furthermore, this temple was connected directly to Soga no Umako and the Soga family. Something to consider: Just as the giant tomb mounds helped demonstrate the power of various clans based on the work and resources that went into them, a temple like Asukadera would have provided similar cache for the Soga family. This is more than just religious devotion, it was a political statement, made in the heart of the region that Kashikiya Hime was ruling from. Visitors to her palace—not to mention later palaces in the area—would have hardly been able to miss the pagoda and the tiled rooves, and locals would have likely heard the toll of the bell, assuming that both they and Toyouradera had them as the sources mention.
Speaking of Toyouradera, I have less information on that compound, but it seems to have been built sometime later. Kashikiya Hime moved to the new Woharida palace around 603, which would have freed the Toyoura palace buildings to be used for the nunnery. While there is evidence of a pagoda being built, I suspect that it originally reused the old palace buildings, repurposing them, and then would have been built out as time allowed. There is still a temple in Toyoura, and some remains that have been examined, but I am not aware of anything as extensive as the work on Asukadera.
In comparison—and perhaps contrast—to Asukadera is the other temple of this episode: Shitennouji, the temple of the Four Heavenly Kings. Now while many later texts certainly involved both Kashikiya Hime and Prince Umayado in the building of Asukadera, it is clear that Soga no Umako played a leading role—and was probably the primary patron for that temple. In contrast, Shitennouji is directly associated with none other than Prince Shotoku Taishi. It claims to have been founded in 593, based on the account of the Nihon Shoki, and it is said to have been commissioned by Crown Prince Shotoku, aka Prince Umayado, in response to the Four Heavenly Kings’ intervention in the Soga-Mononobe war.
To put some of this in perspective: Prince Umayado is said to have been born in 574, and he would have been a teenager during the Soga-Mononobe war, and would have been about 20 years old or so in 593. Granted, this is Shotoku Taishi we are talking about, and all of the history about him claims that he was quite precocious. It is said that when he was born, his hands were clasped together. Two years later, he opened his hands and it was revealed that he had been born holding a relic of the Buddha, which was later enshrined at the temple of Houryuji.
Speaking of Houryuuji, I’m sure we’ll spend more time on it in a future episode, but here’s what you probably should know for context. Houryuuji was built on the site of Prince Umayado’s Ikaruga palace, and is also said to have been directly patronized by Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi. Furthermore, it has the oldest extant wooden buildings in the world, let alone in Japan. And yet, the Shitenouji temple appears to get more air time in the Chronicles, which may be a factor of several different things, but primarily indicating that Shitenouji and its patrons were ascendant at court at the time that everything was being written down, whereas it appears that Houryuuji may have been rebuilding after a fire, and therefore was not as prominent as it would later be. Either way, I encourage people to visit both to get a better idea of this period.
There is less textual evidence—or perhaps there has simply been less scrutiny—for the founding of Shitenouji, and its position is hardly central to the Yamato court. Nonetheless, it is in a place of prominence, as it was near Naniwa, the port to the Seto Inland Sea and beyond. This was also an area that had a high number of immigrants from the mainland, which I’ll be returning to in a bit.
As I mentioned earlier in this episode, Shitenouji follows what we might consider a more traditional design. Entering through the central gate, one comes upon the five storied pagoda, behind which stands the kondou, or image hall. All of this is surrounded by a cloistered wall, which encircles both until you get to the north end, where the wall terminates at the koudou, or lecture hall. The buildings are brightly painted and decorated in red, green, and white—colors that would have likely adorned Asukadera’s posts as well, and which we see in many later temples and images. In fact, the image of a Buddhist temple as brown and plain comes later, likely originating with just the ravages of time and the lack of funding to keep up with the paint, which was originally said to help preserve the wood and prevent damage from insects. Eventually, some sects would come to prefer the more subdued image brought about by natural wood, creating a new aesthetic that continues to be popular. Today you can find a variety of different temple buildings from different eras, some of which maintain the bright colors that would have likely been part of any early temple.
There have been some excavations around Shitenouji, which appear to confirm that the shape has remained roughly the same over the centuries, from what I can tell. The buildings themselves have been rebuilt over the years, but maintain a certain characteristic that seems appropriate to the early temple period. This may be due to the fact that the temple has retained the services of a family of temple builders that continue to operate as a business, even today. Kongou Gumi claims that it was founded in 578, when craftsmen were brought from Baekje to help build temples in Japan, making it the oldest company in the world, though it is now a subsidiary company of the Takamatsu Construction Group. They continue to specialize in traditional temple, shrine, and castle construction, preserving ancient techniques, but also employing modern materials, such as concrete and rebar, where appropriate.
While they were specific to Shitennouji, they were not exclusive, and in the 16th century they helped rebuild Osaka castle. They have repeatedly rebuilt Shitennouji and maintained it through the years, even after it has, at times, been completely destroyed by fire or even typhoon.
The story of Shitennouji’s founding we talked about in the episode on the Soga-Mononobe War, but to quickly recount: The young Shotoku Taishi crafted figures of the four Heavenly kings and prayed for a Soga victory, promising to build a temple if they won. The Soga did win, and so he followed through by building this temple, using land taken from the Mononobe during the war.
So who were the Four Heavenly Kings? Why didn’t he just pray to the Buddha?
The Four Heavenly Kings are gods from India that were transmitted along with Buddhism as Buddhist Deities. They are:
Vaisravana, aka Tamonten, in the north
Virudhaka, aka Zouchouten, in the south
Dhrtarastra, aka Jikokuten, in the east
And Virupaksa, aka Koumokuten, the west.
In general, if you are at a Japanese temple, and you see the name end with “Ten” it may be referring to one of the various Heavenly Kings.
The four heavenly kings are devas, and included as four of the 20 or 24 devas who manifest to protect the Dharma. Given their role in protecting the various cardinal directions, they became popular in East Asian Buddhism, and show up in various Mahayana texts, but they also appear in Theravada traditions as well. It is unclear exactly when and how they became associated with Buddhism, though it wasn’t uncommon for Buddhism to co-opt various gods and deities and turn them into aspects of the Buddha, Boddhisatvas, or, as in this case, protectors of Buddhism. We see similar things happen in the archipelago as various kami are, on occasion, given Buddhist aspects and accepted as defenders of Buddhism.
It appears that they have a particular place in the Konkoumyou Sutra, or Sutra of Golden Light, which is where they appear to have entered East Asian Buddhism. This sutra may have been translated as early as the 5th century, though the Nihon Shoki uses quotes that appear to come from a translation likely made around the 7th or 8th century, which was likely popular at the time that the Nihon Shoki was being compiled. Not only that, but later in the 8th century, various Kokubunji, or provincial temples, would be set up under state sponsorship, in part to create spiritual protection for the realm, and these were specifically set up as temples of the Four Heavenly Kings. So we can see that belief in the efficacy of the Four Heavenly Kings was important around the time that the Chronicles were being compiled.
In addition, Shitennouji is heavily influenced by what some call the “Cult” of “Shotoku Taishi”. Again, by the time that the Nihon Shoki was being compiled, Prince Umayado had already been lifted up on a pedestal and turned into something more than just a Prince—however influential he may have been. He became known as the Father of Buddhism, and the Father of the Nation, having also played a part—we are told—in the creation of the first ever 17 article constitution. He was a Soga relative but he was not, importantly, a member of the direct Soga line, which would land on hard times just a few generations later and be on the political outs.
Michael Como, in his book on Shotoku Taishi, also points out that Shitennouji was associated with the Abe family and with various lineages with ties specifically to Silla, including groups like the Hata—although the layout of the temple still accords with Baekje temple design, as far as I can tell. Still, by the 8th century in particular, Shitennouji and similar temples claiming sponsorship or connections to Shotoku Taishi appear to have had connections with lineages descending from or with connections to Silla.
Spoiler alert: Silla would eventually take over the entire Korean Peninsula, and therefore, by the 8th century, there were no new “Baekje” or “Goguryeo” immigrants—anyone coming over was from Silla. And Michael Como points out that there seems to have been a bit of a political rift and distinction between Silla descended lineage groups and Baekje descended lineage groups. Asukadera and the Soga family—and even Shotoku Taishi’s temple of Houryuuji—appear to have been firmly attached to the Baekje lineages, whom they had sponsored to come over to help them promote Buddhism, but by the 8th century, Silla-backed groups were more dominant. He points to a “split” in the Shotoku Taishi worship, with the Silla-backed temples dominating the narrative in the 8th century and beyond.
This may also play into the story of the founding of Shitennouji, as there is a similar story in the Samguk Yusa, as Como points out. In it, the King prays to the Heavenly Kings for victory against the Tang, and that same King is said to have built the Sacheonwang Temple in the Silla capital of Gyeongju. This temple would become a model for later temples in Silla, and introduced a layout with two pagodas, rather than one. We see this pattern arrive in the archipelago, influencing temples like Yakushiji, in modern Nara.
Unfortunately, this all seems to just muddy the waters. I think we can probably say that the founding of Shitennouji by a young Shotoku Taishi, while possible, seems a bit sus. Sure, I guess they could have built a temple on the land taken from the Mononobe—it would have been quite the statement given that the Mononobe had been so anti-Buddhism, at least according to the textual records. But was it originally dedicated to the Four Heavenly Kings? Or did that part come later, as the texts on the Four Heavenly Kings grew more popular?
I suspect that the temple, which seems laid out in the standard Baekje style, was no doubt one of the early temples, and it may even have been built on Mononobe property. But the association with Shitennouji—and the legend of Shotoku Taishi—probably came later. It was in a great position, however, to gain patronage from newly arrived immigrants, as the port of Naniwa would have been one of the more cosmopolitan locations, and after the downfall of Baekje and Goguryeo, most of those people crossing the sea would have identified with Silla.
Regardless of the legends behind it, Shitennouji does appear to have a claim to be one of the oldest temples in Japan, and shortly after it was built—or at least they started work on the temple—we are told that Kashikiya Hime told Shotoku Taishi to aggressively promote Buddhism, which seems to have kicked off a temple-building fad. No doubt the prestige that came from being connected with a temple like Asukadera or Shitennouji had some small part to play in that.
Temples would become another source of spiritual, and thus political, power, for various kinship groups, much as shrines and kofun were as well. In fact, the temple building craze is often seen as the beginning of the end of the Kofun period. All of the money and resources that were poured into temple building—whether as private projects or as state sponsored projects—would put a huge drain on the labor pool for things like monumental tombs. In addition, as Buddhist theology took hold, a dedicatory temple was, in many ways, more useful, as it could be a way of building merit for the dead, as opposed to simply building giant tomb mounds. That doesn’t mean it ended immediately, but as I’ve mentioned before we start to see the tomb sizes shrink. Nothing would rival the middle kofun era building projects, and there would be a greater focus on building things like temples.
I also suspect that this new style of construction may have had other knock on effects as well. Grand buildings such as those built for temples, and later palaces, were not quite so easy to dismantle and reassemble elsewhere. These were major construction projects and the materials were now heavier, especially those tiled roofs. Not that it was “easy” to just build a palace in the older style, but it was clearly something that could be done quickly if necessary, as shown with the construction of various temporary buildings for envoys and the like—or even the decision to move to a new palace part way through a reign. These new buildings weren’t the same, and we can see how, when Asukadera was moved up to Nara—where it is known as Gankouji—they clearly left many of the buildings and materials behind and likely built new buildings in the new capital. Giant images would also have been difficult to transport, and probably easier to just commission a new one. Had Asukadera, aka Houkouji, not burned down and been generally neglected by the court, which by then had moved on to Heian-kyo, then perhaps it would have retained some of the buildings, as Houryuuji, did. Unfortunately, it did burn down, and so today is only a shadow of what it once was—though still worth a visit, in my opinion.
And that’s where we’ll wrap things up for now. Until next time, then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

McCallum, Donald F. (2009). The Four Great Temples: Buddhist Archaeology, Architecture, and Icons of Seventh-Century Japan. ISBN 978-0-8248-3114-1
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition. ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 96: From the Land Where the Sun Rises

October 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Figurine of a court official from the Sui Dynasty. This is the kind of dress that envoys like Pei Shiqing wore, and it would eventually influence the court dress of Japan. Photo by author. Figurine from the Indianapolis Museum of Art.

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This episode we look at the Sui Dynasty and the famous exchange between the Sui and Yamato. The Sui Dynasty is relatively short-lived—only two rulers to speak of, it lasted from 581 to 618, so not quite forty years. And yet, in that time, they accomplished a lot and set the stage for the later Tang Dynasty.

It is hard to say exactly when many of the various influences came over to Yamato, but we can see in the art and literature many things that we also find in Japan. Below are the sun and moon, represented by a rabbit with a mortar and pestle and a three legged bird. These are both from the Northern Zhou period, just preceding the Sui dynasty. Combined with Buddhism and all of the trappings of the court, even if the Sui dynasty would not last, Yamato was only absorbing more and more of the continental culture, and that would continue into the Tang dynasty.

Image of what appears to be a rabbit with a mortar and pestle, representing the moon—an image also found in Japan event today.

The three legged bird in the sun, often used in Japan to represent the Yatagarasu that guided Jimmu.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 96: From the Land Where the Sun Rises.
Once again, we are still talking about the reign of Kashikiya Hime, from the late 6th to early 7th century. This time, though, we are going to take a quick diversion from Yamato and first look at what was going on over on the continent, in the area of the Yellow and Yangzi River Basins—the area of the so-called “middle country”. This is, after all, where a lot of the philosophy and other things that the archipelago was importing came from, so what was going on over there?
Back in Episode 73, ee talked about the various northern and southern dynasties in the Yellow and Yangzi River Basins. To sum up, during that period, the eastern area of modern China was split between a variety of dynasties, many of them short-lived, and many of them—especially in the north—were dynasties from outside of the main Han ethnic group.
Up through the early 580’s, the dynasty in charge of the Yellow River region was the Northern Zhou, one of the many dynasties in the north descended from the nomadic Xianbei ethnic groups. Though their aristocracy was a mix of multiple ethnicities that had intermarried over the years, the Northern Zhou celebrated their Xianbei roots, often to the detriment of ethnic Han groups. They had inherited the territory of the Western Wei, including much of the central Yangzi region down to Sichuan. They then defeated the Northern Qi in 577 and claimed dominion over all of the Yellow River region in the north of modern China. Their only rival was the Chen dynasty, along the eastern reaches of the Yangzi river, but the Chen themselves were relatively weak, and it was only the power struggles within the Northern Zhou court that kept them from wiping out the Chen completely.
In 581, the Northern Zhou suffered a coup d’etat. Yang Jian was a Northern Zhou general, and his family, the Yang clan, had Han origins but had intermarried with the Xianbei as well, creating a truly mixed lineage. Jian also held some sway at court, and was known as the Duke of Sui—his daughter was the Empress Dowager, and her stepson was the young Emperor Jing. In 581 Yang Jian usurped power from his step-grandson, the child emperor Jing, and placed himself on the throne, taking the name Emperor Wen of Sui, using his previous title as the name of the new dynasty.
He killed off fifty-nine princes of the previous Northern Zhou, and began to consolidate his power. By 587, he had strengthened his position, and by 588 invasion of the Chen territories began under Prince Yang Guang. By 589, the Chen were defeated and any attempts at rebellion were put down, giving the Sui dynasty full control of northern and southern regions—from the Yellow and Yangzi Rivers down to the Sichuan basin.
Although, as I noted, the Yang family had intermarried with the Xianbei families of the Northern Zhou, they still retained some connection with their Han roots, and Emperor Wen won over the Han Confucian scholars with reforms to the rank system and at least a nod towards getting rid of nepotism and corruption that had taken hold in the Northern Zhou and previous dynasties. He reinstituted Han dynasty titles and restored the nine rank system. He also reinstituted a system of impartial judges to seek out talent and moved towards the idea of an examination system—something that would really take hold in later centuries.
Furthermore, while he set himself up in the northern capital of Daxingcheng, aka Chang’an, he helped rebuild the southern capital, naming it Dayang. He also supported Buddhism and Daoism. He became a patron of southern Buddhist monasteries, and recognized major temples as state-sponsored institutions—a far cry from the suppression attempts in the north in 574 and 578.
Emperor Wen also worked on repairing canals along the Yellow River. These canals, which allowed easy transport of goods, regularly silted up without maintenance, and the dikes on either side could break, flooding the land on either side. They had been neglected during many of the short-lived reigns up to this point, with perhaps a few exceptions when things got really bad. However, Emperor Wen began work to fix these old canals and thus improve the flow of goods and services.
Given all of this - his patronage of Buddhism and Daoism, as well as his attempt to resurrect the Han dynasty and the Confucian principles that underlay its government, as well as the public works that he instituted, Yang Jian, aka Emperor Wen of Sui, is remembered as the Cultured Emperor—despite that fact the had started out as a blood-soaked general who had secured his usurpation with a not inconsiderable amount of murder. Sima Guang, writing from the Song dynasty, centuries later, praised Emperor Wen for all he did to grow the Sui, uniting north and south, supporting the people, and helping the country to prosper as it rarely has before. And yet, Sima Guang also says that in his personal life he was mean and stingy and paranoid—afraid that everyone was out to get him. Given the life he’d lived, that would make some sense. Still, he seems to have been good for his people, in the long run.
But this wasn’t to last. In 604, Emperor Wen fell ill and died. Or at least that is the official story. Another says that he had grown angry over some event and was about to disinherit the crown prince, Yang Guang, who sent someone to kill his father. That is a very abbreviated version of the story, and, as I said, it is not without controversy.
However he died, his son, Yang Guang, succeeded him to the throne and became known as Emperor Yang. Emperor Yang continued to expand the empire, and under his dynasty the Sui would attain their greatest extent yet. He rebuilt parts of the Great Wall, and expanded the borders south, into modern Vietnam, as well as up to the borders with Goguryeo. He also continued the work his father had begun on canals, eventually undertaking the creation of the Grand Canal, which would connect the Yellow and Yangzi Rivers. No longer would the two be separate, forced to send goods out to sea or over treacherous land routes to get from one river basin to another. Now they could sail ships straight from one river to the other—an impressive feat that you can still see today in parts of modern China. The project would forever change the landscape of China, both literally and figuratively. It connected the north and south, leading to greater political, economic, and cultural unity between the two regions. It would connect the culture and economic resources of the south with the military institutions of the north.

Unfortunately, for all that this expansion may have been good for commerce, it came at a price. The wars in Champa, in Southern Vietnam, saw thousands of Sui soldiers die from malaria. And then, in the north, though they continuously pushed against Goguryeo, they were never quite able to overthrow them. Finally, there was the Grand Canal. Although it would truly be a wonder of the world, and become a part of the lifeblood of dynasties for centuries to come, it was built at a huge price both monetarily and in human lives. We can assume a large number of people died as conscript labor working on the canals or on refurbishing the Great Wall, but also we are told that the monetary price largely bankrupted the empire, and for which later historians castigated the Sui dynasty
But that was still to happen. For our purposes, we should rewind a bit, to the very beginning of the 7th century. As we touched on last episode, Yamato was just adopting their own twelve rank system and a seventeen article constitution shortly after Emperor Wen passed away and Yang Guang took the throne.
Now these 17 articles were almost all based on Confucian or Buddhist philosophy; clearly the Court was looking to the continent more and more for inspiration on how to govern, especially as it further expanded and solidified its grasp across the archipelago. Up to this point, much of that innovation had come through the Korean peninsula, by way of Silla, Goguryeo, and, most prominently, their ally Baekje. But no doubt they knew that much of what was influencing those kingdoms had, itself, come from even farther away.
And so, this reign, the Chronicles record that Yamato once again sent envoys beyond their peninsular neighbors all the way to the Middle Country itself. This is significant as they were making direct contact with the mighty empire, the source of so many of the philosophical and scientific innovations that Yamato was trying to adopt. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, of course—we know of the cases of state of Na contacting the Han court, and then Himiko of the Wa during the Wei period, as well as several missions immediately after Himiko’s death. We also know of the five kings of Wa who reached out to the Liu Song court, though the Chronicles themselves are often silent on actual embassies, making it hard to tell exactly which reigns that occurred in, though it is generally agreed that one of those “Five Kings” was none other than Wakatakiru himself, Yuuryaku Tennou.
There may have been other missions. There seems to be some discussion amongst the Liang dynasty records that may indicate greater contact with Japan, but again, we don’t necessarily see that in the records themselves. Furthermore, with the fractured nature of the various dynasties since the Han period, and the various conflicts on the peninsula and in the archipelago, it would be understandable if there hadn’t been much direct diplomatic contact since about the time of Wakatakiru.
And so it is a pretty big thing that we not only have an envoy around the year 608, but that there appears to be agreement for it in the Sui history—though there is one glaring mistake: in the Nihon Shoki they clearly say that they sent envoys to the “Great Tang”, and not the Sui. However, this is fairly easily explained. By the 8th century, as the records were being compiled, the Tang dynasty was, indeed, in control of the Chinese court. In fact, the Tang dynasty was so admired by the Japanese of the day that even now the term “Karafu”, or “Chinese style”, uses the character for the Tang dynasty, rather than the Han. On the one hand it seems as though the scholars of the 8th century would surely have known of the Sui dynasty coming before the Tang, but it is also understandable that anyone would have just thought of the successive courts as a single continuity. Either way, I’ll talk about the Sui dynasty, and it is in the Sui dynasty records that we find the corresponding description of this embassy.
It starts on the 3rd day of the 7th month of 607. The Chronicles tell us that Wono no Omi no Imoko was sent to the Sui court, taking along Kuratsukuri no Fukuri as an interpreter. You may recall that the Kuratsukuri, or saddle-makers, claimed a descent from Shiba Tattou, himself from the continent. It would make sense to take someone on this diplomatic exhibition who could actually speak the language or, failing that, read and write it - a peculiar function of the Chinese language, since the various dialects, though often mutually unintelligible, still use the same characters.
Imoko, by the way, may have also had important connections, but in this case it was to the Soga. We are told in the Nihon Shoki that Imoko was known in the Sui Court as “So Imko”, and the “So” character is the same as the first character in the name “Soga”. It is possible that Imoko was, indeed, a Soga family member, and the name Wono no Omi may have come later. Or it is possible that he was forgotten for some reason.
On the Sui side, we are told that in the year 607 there was an envoy sent with tribute from King Tarashihoko, which may have been another name for Kashikiya Hime, or perhaps it was simply an error caused by the problems with attempting to record foreign names in Sinitic characters.
The arrival of the embassy must have been something else, especially as they came upon the capital city. Wen’s capital city, that of Daxingcheng, was a new city, built just southeast of the ancient city of Chang’an, which was in a sad state of decay, despite hosting so many rulers over the centuries, including the Northern Zhou themselves. Wen had laid out a new plan of a permanent, rectangular city, with the royal palace taking up the northern central district. Buddhist and Daoist temples were scattered throughout the city.
The city itself was five to six miles a side, and so it would take time to truly build it out. However, first the walls were set up, and then the palace area, so that Wen effectively moved into an empty city when he arrived in 583. Many people were forcibly resettled, and members of the new royal family were encouraged to set up their own palaces, but it would take time to truly fill up—by the end of the Sui dynasty, and the beginning of the Tang, the city was still being built, and it wouldn’t see its ultimate heyday as a vibrant urban capital until the Tang dynasty.
And so when the Yamato delegation arrived in 608, they would have seen the impressive walls and the immense palace, but in all likelihood, much of the city was still being built, and there was likely construction on every block. Nonetheless, the sheer size would have to have made an impression on them—nothing like this existed in the archipelago in the slightest.
On the other hand, the Sui had their own curiosities about Yamato. The history of the Sui, written only twenty to thirty years afterwards, starts out its account with a description of the Land of Wa. Some of it is taken directly from the Wei histories, recounting what was previously known about these islands across the eastern sea—we talked about that back in episodes 11 to 13. The Sui history summarizes these previous historical accounts, including mention of envoys that came over during the Qi and Liang dynasties—between 479 and 556—though little more is said.
Then the Sui history mentions an envoy that is said to have arrived in the early part of the Sui—the Kaihuang era, between 581-600. We are told that this was for a “King” whose family name was Ame and his personal name was Tarashihiko, with the title of Ohokimi—at least, assuming we are transliterating correctly, as the characters used have slightly different pronunciations. That could easily be attributed to just mistranslations. Even the family and personal name are familiar, but not exactly attributed in the Chronicles—though we have seen the elements elsewhere in the royal family, and it may be that they were also titles, of a sort. Also, they mention a King, but that could also just be due to the fact that the Ohokimi was not a gendered title, and as such the Sui simply assumed a male ruler. There is no evidence of this in the Chronicles for this, however it is said that at that time they looked into the ways of the Wa and they were told that “The King of Wa deems heaven to be his elder brother and the sun, his younger. Before break of dawn he attends the Court, and, sitting cross-legged, listens to appeals. Just as soon as the sun rises, he ceases these duties, saying that he hands them over to his brother.”
This is likely a misunderstanding, once again, but it rings with some truth. Even if we discard some of the legends about Amaterasu as later additions, there is plenty of linguistic and cultural evidence that the sun held a special place in Wa culture. There is also the article in the new constitution about starting early to work that might just be referenced here.
We aren’t sure when, exactly, the Sui collected this information—though given that it was written within living memory of many of the events, a lot of the information is considered to at least be plausible, if perhaps a bit misunderstood at times. The Sui history specifically mentions the twelve court ranks—in fact, it is possible that the Chronicles, compiled in the 8th century, were actually referencingthis earlier history about the ranks, though we know that ranks continued in one way or another. It also makes the comment that there were no regulated number of officials in each rank—that would certainly be the case later, and makes sense when the ranks also dictated how much of a salary that one could expect from the court. Then, outside of the court they mention the “kuni”—the kuni no miyatsuko—and then claimed that each kuni no miyatsuko oversaw about 10 inaki, officials in charge of the royal granaries, who each oversaw 80 families. It is doubtful that these numbers were that precise, but it gives an interesting concept of scale.
The Sui history also tells us about other things that the Chronicles tend to leave out. We are told that the men wore both outer and inner garments, with small (likely meaning narrow) sleeves. Their footgear was like sandals, painted with lacquer, which sounds not unlike geta, which we do have evidence for going back into the Yayoi, at least, though this was only for the upper crust—most people just went barefoot, wearing a wide piece of cloth tied on without sewing.
We do get a hint at the headgear that was instituted along with the court rank system, by the way, but only a glimpse. We are told that it was made of brocade and colored silk and decorated with gold and silver inlaid flowers, which does correspond to some of what we know from the Chronicles.
As for the women of Yamato, we are told that they arrange their hair on the back of the head, and they wear outer garments and scarves with patterns. They have decorative combs of bamboo as well. They also wore tattoos, as did the men. Much of this, including the tattoos, accords with what we have evidence of in the Haniwa from the 6th century and later.
For sleeping arrangements we are told that they weave grass into mattresses—possibly the origin of the later tatami that would originally just be woven mats but eventually turned into a type of permanent flooring. For covers we are told they used skins lined with colored leather—a curious blanket, and one wonders if this was for everyone or just the upper crust.
We are given some discussion of their weapons and armor, including their use of lacquered leather and the fact that they made arrowheads out of bone. We also know they used metal, but bone was likely the more prevalent material, as losing a metal arrowhead was much more costly than losing a bone one.
Interestingly we are told that, though there is a standing army, wars are infrequent—which may have been accurate in relation to what the Sui themselves had gone through and seen, since it seems like they were almost constantly fighting somewhere along their borders. But Yamato was far from peaceful, and it is telling that the court was accompanied by music and displays of military might.
As for the justice system, we talked about this a little bit in previous episodes, based on various punishments we’ve seen in the archipelago, though the Sui history gives us a slightly more direct description. It claims that there were some high crimes punished by death. Others were punished with fines, often meant to make restitution to the aggrieved. If you couldn’t pay you would be enslaved to pay for it instead. They also mention banishment and flogging. All of this is in line with some of what we’ve seen in the Chronicles, though it also seems like some of this may have also depended on other factors, including the accused’s social status. After all, not everyone had rice land that they could just turn over to wipe out their misdeeds.
Then there were the various judicial ordeals. We’ve mentioned this idea , with the idea that somehow the righteous would be protected from injury. These included things like pulling pebbles out of boiling water, or reaching into a pot to grab a snake and hoping he doesn’t bite you. There are also various tortures designed to get one to confess.
In discussing literacy, the Sui histories mention that the Wa have no written characters—and at this point, the writing would have been some form of Sinic characters, assuming one could read and write at all. Instead, the Sui anthropologists said that the Wa used notched sticks and knotted ropes as a means of conveying messages. How exactly that work, I’m not sure, but there are certainly cultures that we know used things like knotted rope for various math and conveying numbers, etc.
In regards to religion, the Sui noticed that Buddhism had taken hold, but it had not gotten rid of other practices. Thus we know they practiced forms of divination and had faith in both male and female shamans.
In their free time, people would enjoy themselves. On New Year’s day, they would have archery tournaments, play games, and drink—the Sui said that it was very much like how they themselves celebrated.
Coromorant fishing and abalone diving—well, diving for fish—are both noted already. Again, these are activities that continue into the modern day.
At dinner we are told that the people do not eat off of dishes or plates, but instead use oak leaves. We’ve seen mention of this kind of practice, and that may have just been a particular ritual or ceremony that made its way back.
Finally, there are the rituals for the dead. We are told people wear white—white is often considered the color of death in Japan, even today. They would have singing and dancing near the corpse, and a nobleman might lay in state—in a mogari shelter or temporary interment—for three years. Certainly, we’ve sometimes seen it take a while, especially if the kofun isn’t ready to receive the body, yet. Commoners apparently would place the body in a boat which was pulled along from the shore or placed in a small palanquin—though what happens after that is somewhat of a mystery.
The Sui envoys writing about this also apparently experienced an active period of Mt. Aso—or another mountain so-named—as they said it was belching forth fire from the rocks. As we’ve mentioned, the archipelago is particularly active, volcanically speaking, so I’m not surprised that an envoy might have had a chance to get to know a little more about that first hand.
Having described the country thus, the Sui Chronicles go on to describe the embassy that came over in the year 607. According to the history as translated by Tsunoda Ryusaku and L. Carrington Goodrich, the envoy from Yamato explained the situation as such: “The King has heard that to the west of the ocean a Boddhisattva of the Sovereign reveres and promotes Buddhism. Accompanying the embassy are several tens of monks who have come to study Buddhism.” This is great as we see some of the things that the Japanese scholars left out—that there were Buddhists on this mission. For many, getting to the monasteries and temples of the Middle Kingdom was almost as good as making the trip all the way to India.
Over all, the embassy appears to have been largely successful in their mission. The ambassador, Imoko, came back with an envoy from the Sui, Pei Shiqing, along with twelve other individuals. It is thought that this may have been the same embassy that then reported back to the court all of the various details that the later Sui history captured.
According to the Sui dynasty history, the embassy first headed to Baekje, reaching the island of Chiku, and then, after seeing Tara in the south, they passed Tsushima and sailed out in to the deep ocean, eventually landing on the island of Iki. From there they made it to Tsukushi, and on to Suwo. They then passed through some ten countries until they came to the shore.
Now, Naniwa no Kishi no Wonari had been sent to bring them to court and they had a new official residence erected for them in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka. When they arrived, on the 15th day of the 6th month of the year 608, Yamato sent out thirty heavily decorated boats to meet them—and no doubt to make an impression as well. They met them at Yeguchi, the mouth of the river and they were ensconced in the newly built official residence.
Official entertainers were appointed for the ambassadors—Nakatomi no Miyatoko no Muraji no Torimaro, Ohohoshi no Kawachi no Atahe no Nukade, and Fume no Fumibito no Oohei. Meanwhile, Imoko continued on to the court proper to report on his mission.
Unfortunately, for all of the goodness that came from the whole thing, the trip had not been completely flawless. The Sui court had entrusted Imoko with a letter to pass on to the Yamato court, but the return trip through Baekje proved… problematic, to say the least. We are told that men of Baekje stopped the party, searched them, and confiscated the letter. It is unclear whether these were Baekje officials or just some bandits, but the important thing was that Imoko had lost the message, which was a grave offense. The ministers suggested that, despite all of his success, Imoko should be banished for losing the letter. After all, it was the duty of an envoy to protect the messages between the courts at all costs.
In the end, it was agreed that, yes, Imoko should be punished, but that it would be a bad look in front of their guests. After all, he had just represented them to the Sui Court, and so Kashikiya Hime pardoned Imoko of any wrongdoing.
A couple months later, on the 3rd day of the 8th month, the preparations had been made and the envoys formally approached the palace. There were met on the Tsubaki no Ichi road by 75 well-dressed horses—the Sui history says two hundred—and there Nukada no Muraji no Hirafu welcomed them all with a speech.
After finally reaching the location of the palace, it was nine more days before the Sui envoys were formally summoned to present themselves and state their reason for coming. Abe no Tori no Omi and Mononobe no Yosami no no Muraji no Idaku acted as “introducers” for the guests, announcing who they were to the court. Then Pei Shiqing had the various diplomatic gifts arranged in the courtyard, and then presented his credentials to the court. Then, bowing twice, he gave his own account of why he had been sent—he announced greetings from the Sui emperor, recognized the work of Imoko, and then provided an excuse that the emperor himself could not make it due to his poor health. That last bit I suspect was a polite fiction, or perhaps an erroneous addition by the Chroniclers. After all, it isn’t like the Sui emperors were in the habit of just gallivanting off to an unknown foreign land—especially one across the sea.
After delivering some polite niceties, Shiqing also provided a detailed list of all of the diplomatic gifts that they had brought.
The dance that happened next is telling. In order to convey Pei Shiqing’s letter to the sovereign, it wasn’t like they could just hand it. There were levels of protocol and procedure that had to be observed, and so Abe no Omi took the letter up and handed it to Ohotomo no Kurafu no Muraji, who in turn placed it on a table in front of the Great gate where Kashikiya Hime could then get it. This setup is similar to the later court, where only certain individuals of rank were actually allowed up into the buildings of the palace, whereas others were restricted to the ground.
After that formal introduction, there was a month or more of parties for the envoys, until finally they had to return to the Sui court. When they departed, they were sent with eight students and Imoko, who was bringing another letter back to the Sui Court. The students were all scheduled to study various disciplines and bring the knowledge back to the Yamato court. But that wasn’t quite so special, or at least we aren’t given much more on the specifics of what the students brought back..
What really stands out in the Sui histories is the contents of the formal letter that Imoko was carrying, as it had a phrase that will be familiar to many students of this period of history, and which really connects across the Japanese and Sui histories, despite other inconsistencies. It read: “The Son of Heaven in the land where the sun rises addresses a letter to the Son of Heaven in the land where the sun sets. We hope you are in good health.” Or at least, that is how the Sui histories record it. In the Nihon Shoki they say something similar, “The Emperor of the East respectfully addresses the Emperor of the West.” Here, rather than using “Child of Heaven”, the author made use of the term “Tennou” when referring to the Yamato sovereign, and then different characters were used for the Sui emperor. At the same time, that is one of the reasons that I give more credence to the Sui history.
Of course, however you slice and dice this thing, there are some major airs being taken by the Yamato sovereign. Thus it is no wonder that, when the Sui emperor heard this, he was displeased, to say the least, and he told his minister that the letter was discourteous and should never again be brought to his attention. So that’s a whole mood.
The reason for this offense may be obvious, as the letter paints the sovereign of Japan as equal to the emperor of the Sui dynasty. That was indeed a bold claim. As we mentioned towards the top of the episode, the Sui were just about at their zenith. They had defeated their enemies, taken control of both the northern and southern regions, expanded to their south and north, and they were using their vast reserves on massive public works. They were a large, established and still growing empire. Comparatively Yamato had, what, 100,000 households? No writing system. They were eating off of oak leaves. And yet they were taking on airs and claiming that they were equal to the Sui. That had to garner more than a few eyerolls, and I really wonder at the temerity of the officer who presented it up the chain, especially as they would have seen what the Sui was really like—a reality that most of envoys to the Sui court would have seen firsthand. There is also the fact that they claim to be the land where the sun rises while the Sui are the land where the sun sets, which may have just been referencing east and west in a poetic fashion, but on another level it is almost as if they were talking about the rise of Yamato and the fall, or setting, of the Sui.
I would note that we still don’t see the term “Land of the Rising Sun”, or “Nihon”, used for the name of the country yet—one of the reasons I continue to refer to Yamato and not just “Japan”. However, all of this is in keeping with the traditions of the Wa people as we know them—the sun was given a special place in their worldview, as demonstrated linguistically, and not just through the legends curated in the 8th century.
By the way, this exchange is mentioned in both the Sui History and the Nihon Shoki, but they place it in slightly different contexts. According to the Sui History, this was one of the first things that envoys said, whereas the version in the Nihon Shoki it was actually sent with the second mission. In either case, however, the content is relatively the same.
Certainly, as Japan continued to take on more and more trappings of the continental courts, they would eventually even take on the term Tennou—also read in Japanese as Sumera no Mikoto—to refer to the sovereign. This is basically saying that the sovereign is, indeed, a Heavenly Son, and which they would come to translate as “emperor”, in English. There would be other terminology and trappings that would reinforce this concept, which placed the sovereign of Japan in a position that at least locally seemed to be much more prestigious.
Imoko came back from this last diplomatic mission and was well beloved—some later sources even suggest that he may have been promoted for his diplomatic efforts. Oddly, however, we don’t really hear more, if anything, about Imoko, and he fades back into the past.
And so that covers much of the story of what Yamato was borrowing from the Sui and others during this period. Next episode—well, I’m honestly not sure what we’ll be covering next, as there is just so much going on during Kashikiya-hime’s reign. But stick around.
Until next time, then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Kawagoe, Aileen (2009). “Caps and court rank: the Kan’i junikai system”. Heritage of Japan. Retrieved 10/1/2023.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Tsunoda, Ryusaku (1951). Japan in the Chinese Dynastic Histories: Later Han Through the Ming Dynasties. Perkins Asiatic Monographs Number 2

Episode 95: Cap Ranks and the 17 Article Constitution

October 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Site of one of the palaces found in Asuka, possibly the site of Kashikiya Hime’s palace, which would have been the center of the court activity.

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This episode we are talking about the new innovations the court implemented this reign. Mainly about the court rank system and the new constitution.

Twelve Level Cap Rank System

The kan’i-junikai (冠位十二階) is the term used for the rank system developed in this period. It resembles systems in Baekje, Goguryeo, and in various other states. It applied specifically to those individuals connected with the court.

In this early system, it was not necessarily a numerical system. That is to say, later court ranks would literally be “Rank 1” to “Rank 9”, often with various other divisions in each rank.

The ranks are as follows:

Daitoku (大徳) - Greater Virtue
Shōtoku (小徳) - Lesser Virtue
Dainin (大仁) - Greater Humanity
Shōnin (小仁) - Lesser Humanity
Dairai (大礼) - Greater Propriety
Shōrai (小礼) - Lesser Propriety
Daishin (大信) - Greater Faith
Shōnin (小信) - Lesser Faith
Daigi (大義) - Greater Justice
Shōgi (小義) - Lesser Justice
Daichi (大智) - Greater Wisdom
Shōchi (小智) - Lesser Wisdom

Each rank was indicated by a particular cap—the Sui history says “it was made of brocade and colored silk and decorated with gold and silver inlaid flowers.” (Tsunoda 1951). Each cap was a particular color to indicate the rank, but the specific color isn’t mentioned. There are several theories as to what specific colors they used, but nothing definitive that has been set down. Our founder, Tony Bryant, used one theory for our suggested chart, but even that is just supposition.

Seventeen Article Constitution

The Seventeen Article Constitution is said to be the first written legal code of Japan. We go over it in the podcast, but here’s a summary:

Harmony is to be valued
Reverence the Three Treasures
Obey the sovereign’s commands
Ministers should act with decorum
Ministers should deal impartially with suits submitted to them
Chastise what is evil and encourage that which is good
Let everyone have their own charge, and let not the spheres of duty be confused
Let the ministers and functionaries arrive early and retire late
Good faith is the foundation of right
Let us cease from wrath, and refrain from angry looks
Keep track of merit or demerit and reward or punish appropriately
Don’t let the local lords levy taxes – that is for the central government alone
Everyone employed in an official office should attend diligently to their functions
Be not envious
The path of the minister is to turn away from that which is private and focus on the publ ic
Only conscript people into forced labor at the right times
Discuss weighty matters with a group, don’t make big decisions just by one person

For a full look at each article, a copy of the Aston translation can be found here: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Seventeen-article_constitution

You can also search the online copy of the Nihon Shoki at the Japanese Historical Text Initiative, which includes search features and the original text.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 96: From the Land Where the Sun Rises.
We are still talking about the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno, from the late 6th to the early 7th century. We’ve been covering discussions of the continental influences on the archipelago, especially as they adopted more and more continental practices—both religion and government. This episode we are going to continue the discussion regarding Yamato’s interactions, specifically a notably famous trip to the continent and Yamato’s apparent assumption of equality between their ruler, the Ohokimi, and the Emperor of the Sui dynasty—the Son of Heaven. We’ll also touch on the changes Japan was adopting in their own government as a result of greater adoption of continental philosophy. These are largely seen as a Sinification—a trend towards a more “Chinese” style system—but I want to emphasize that a lot of this was filtered through the lens of the states on the Korean peninsula: Baekje, Goguryeo, and Silla. This is one of the reasons I hesitate to just call it “Chinese”, as Yamato was really blending aspects of several cultural influences, as well as adding their own spice to the sauce.
Hence, last episode we talked about Yamato’s contact with the continent—specifically the Korean Peninsula—and the various diplomatic gifts, often put in terms of “tribute”, that came over. Besides a small menagerie of exotic animals and Buddhist statues, there were learned monks and various books conveying continental teachings. At the same time that Yamato was starting to experiment with a new, foreign religion—Buddhism—they began to experiment with other foreign concepts as well. They had members of the court studying specific disciplines, and presumably passing those on to others.
I want to go more in depth into just what Yamato did and how they trans
(Touch on the Rank System and the 17 Article Constitution once again)
Now these 17 articles were almost all based on Confucian or Buddhist philosophy; clearly the Court was looking to the continent more and more for inspiration on how to govern, especially as it further expanded and solidified its grasp across the archipelago. Up to this point, much of that innovation had come through the Korean peninsula, by way of Silla, Goguryeo, and, most prominently, their ally Baekje. But no doubt they recognized that much of what was influencing those kingdoms had, itself, come from even farther away.
And so, this reign, the Chronicles record that Yamato once again sent envoys beyond their peninsular neighbors all the way to the Middle Country itself. This is significant as they were making direct contact with the mighty empire, the source of so many of the philosophical and scientific innovations that Yamato was trying to adopt. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, of course—we know of the cases of state of Na contacting the Han court, and then Himiko of the Wa during the Wei period, as well as several missions immediately after Himiko’s death. We also know of the five kings of Wa who reached out to the Liu Song court, though the Chronicles themselves are often silent on actual embassies, making it hard to tell exactly which reigns that occurred in, though it is generally agreed that one of those “Five Kings” was none other than Wakatakiru himself, Yuuryaku Tennou.
There may have been other missions. There seems to be some discussion amongst the Liang dynasty records that may indicate greater contact with Japan, but again, we don’t necessarily see that in the records themselves. Furthermore, with the fractured nature of the various dynasties since the Han period, and the various conflicts on the peninsula and in the archipelago, it would be understandable if there hadn’t been much direct diplomatic contact since about the time of Wakatakiru.
And so it is a pretty big thing that we not only have an envoy around the year 608, but that there appears to be agreement for it in the Sui history—though there is one glaring mistake: in the Nihon Shoki they clearly say that they sent envoys to the “Great Tang”, and not the Sui. However, this is fairly easily explained. By the 8th century, as the records were being compiled, the Tang dynasty was, indeed, in control of the Chinese court. In fact, the Tang dynasty was so admired by the Japanese of the day that even now the term “Karafu”, or “Chinese style”, uses the character for the Tang dynasty, rather than the Han. On the one hand it seems as though the scholars of the 8th century would surely have known of the Sui dynasty coming before the Tang, but it is also understandable that anyone would have just thought of the successive courts as a single continuity. Either way, I’ll talk about the Sui dynasty, and it is in the Sui dynasty records that we find the corresponding description of this embassy.
It starts on the 3rd day of the 7th month of 607. The Chronicles tell us that Wono no Omi no Imoko was sent to the Sui court, taking along Kuratsukuri no Fukuri as an interpreter. As you may recall, the Kuratsukuri, or saddle-makers, claimed a descent from Shiba Tattou, himself from the continent. It would make sense to take someone who could actually speak the language or, failing that, read and write it. This was a peculiar function of the Chinese language, since the various dialects, though often mutually unintelligible, still use the same characters.
Imoko, by the way, may have also had connections, but in this case it was to the Soga. We are told in the Nihon Shoki that Imoko was known in the Sui Court as “So Imko”, and the “So” character is the same as the first character in the name “Soga”. It is possible that Imoko was, indeed, a Soga family member, and the name Wono no Omi may have come later. Or it is possible that he was forgotten for some reason.
In the Sui history, we are told that in the year 607 there was an envoy sent with tribute from King Tarashihoko, which may have been another name for Kashikiya Hime, or perhaps it was simply an error caused by the problems with attempting to record foreign names in Sinitic characters.
According to the history as translated by Tsunoda Ryusaku and L. Carrington Goodrich, the envoy from Yamato explained the situation as such: “The King has heard that to the west of the ocean a Boddhisattva of the Sovereign reveres and promotes Buddhism. Accompanying the embassy are several tens of monks who have come to study Buddhism.” This is great as we see some of the things that the Japanese scholars left out—that there were Buddhists on this mission. For many, getting to the monasteries and temples of the Middle Kingdom was almost as good as making the trip all the way to India.
Over all, the embassy appears to have been largely successful in their mission. The ambassador, Imoko, came back with an envoy from the Sui, Pei Shiqing, along with twelve other individuals.
According to the Sui dynasty history, they first headed to Baekje, reaching the island of Chiku, and then, after seeing Tara in the south, they passed Tsushima and sailed out in to the deep ocean, eventually landing on the island of Iki. From there they made it to Tsukushi, and on to Suwo. They then passed through some ten countries until they came to the shore.
Now, Naniwa no Kishi no Wonari had been sent to bring them to court and they had a new official residence erected for them in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka. When they arrived, on the 15th day of the 6th month of the year 608, Yamato sent out thirty heavily decorated boats to meet them—and no doubt to make an impression as well. They met them at Yeguchi, the mouth of the river and they were ensconced in the newly built official residence.
Official entertainers were appointed for the ambassadors—Nakatomi no Miyatoko no Muraji no Torimaro, Ohohoshi no Kawachi no Atahe no Nukade, and Fume no Fumibito no Oohei. Meanwhile, Imoko continued on to the court proper to report on his mission.
Unfortunately, for all of the goodness that came from the whole thing, the trip had not been completely flawless. The Sui court had entrusted Imoko with a letter to pass on to the Yamato court, but the return trip through Baekje proved… problematic, to say the least. We are told that men of Baekje stopped the party, searched them, and confiscated the letter. It is unclear whether these were Baekje officials or just some bandits, but the important thing was that Imoko had lost the message, which was a grave offense. The ministers suggested that, despite all of his success, Imoko should be banished for losing the letter. After all, it was the duty of an envoy to protect the messages between the courts at all costs.
In the end, it was agreed that, yes, Imoko should be punished, but that it would be a bad look in front of their guests. After all, he had just represented them to the Sui Court, and so Kashikiya Hime pardoned Imoko of any wrongdoing.
A couple months later, on the 3rd day of the 8th month, the preparations had been made and the envoys formally approached the palace. There were met on the Tsubaki no Ichi road by 75 well-dress horses—the Sui history says two hundred—and there Nukada no Muraji no Hirafu welcomed them all with a speech.
After finally reaching the location of the palace, it was nine more days before they were formally summoned to present themselves and state their reason for coming. Abe no Tori no Omi and Mononobe no Yosami no no Muraji no Idaku acted as “introducers” for the guests, announcing who they were to the court. Then Pei Shiqing had the various diplomatic gifts arranged in the courtyard, and then presented his credentials to the court. Then, bowing twice, he gave his own account of why he had been sent—he announced greetings from the Sui emperor, recognized the work of Imoko, and then provided an excuse that the emperor himself could not make it due to his poor health. That last bit I suspect was a polite fiction, or perhaps an erroneous addition by the Chroniclers. After all, it isn’t like the Sui emperors were in the habit of just flouncing off to an unknown foreign land—especially one across the sea.
After delivering some polite niceties, Shiqing also provided a detailed list of all of the diplomatic gifts that they had brought.
The dance that happened next is telling. In order to convey Pei Shiqing’s letter to the sovereign, it wasn’t like they could just hand it. There were levels of protocol and procedure that had to be observed, and so Abe no Omi took the letter up and handed it to Ohotomo no Kurafu no Muraji, who in turn placed it on a table in front of the Great gate where Kashikiya Hime could then get it. This setup is similar to the later court, where only certain individuals of rank were actually allowed up into the buildings of the palace, whereas others were restricted to the ground.
After that formal introduction, there was a month or more of parties for the envoys, until finally they had to return to the Sui court. When they departed, they were sent with eight students and Imoko, who was bringing another letter to the Sui Court. The students were all scheduled to study various disciplines and bring the knowledge back to the Yamato court. But that wasn’t quite so special, or at least we aren’t given much more on the specifics of what the students brought back.. What really stands out in the Sui histories is the contents of the formal letter that Imoko was carrying, as it had a phrase that will be familiar to many students of this period of history, and which really connects across the Japanese and Sui histories, despite other inconsistencies. It read: “The Son of Heaven in the land where the sun rises addresses a letter to the Son of Heaven in the land where the sun sets. We hope you are in good health.” Or at least, that is how the Sui histories record it. In the Nihon Shoki they say something similar, “The Emperor of the East respectfully addresses the Emperor of the West.” Here, rather than using “Child of Heaven”, the author made use of the term “Tennou” when referring to the Yamato sovereign, and then different characters were used for the Sui emperor. At the same time, that is one of the reasons that I give more credence to the Sui history.. Of course, however you slice and dice this thing, there are some major airs being taken by the sovereign. Thus it is no wonder that, when the Sui emperor heard this, he was displeased, to say the least, and he told his minister that the letter was discourteous and should never again be brought to his attention. So that’s a whole mood.
The reason for this may be obvious, as the letter paints the sovereign of Japan as equal to the emperor of the Sui dynasty. That was indeed a bold claim. There is also the fact that they claim to be the land where the sun rises while the Sui are the land where the sun sets, which may have just been referencing east and west in a poetic fashion, but on another level it is almost as if they were talking about the rise of Yamato and the fall, or setting, of the Sui.
I would note that we still don’t see the term “Land of the Rising Sun”, or “Nihon”, used for the name of the country yet—one of the reasons I continue to refer to Yamato and not just “Japan”. However, all of this is in keeping with the traditions of the Wa people as we know them—the sun was given a special place in their worldview, as demonstrated linguistically, and not just through the legends curated in the 8th century. The Nihon Shoki mentions this letter, but not for this first
Certainly, as Japan continued to take on more and more trappings of the continental courts, they would eventually even take on the term Tennou—also read in Japanese as Sumera no Mikoto—to refer to the sovereign. This is basically saying that the sovereign is, indeed, a Heavenly Son, and which they would come to translate as “emperor”, in English. There would be other terminology and trappings that would reinforce this concept, which placed the sovereign of Japan in a position that at least locally seemed to be much more prestigious.
Imoko came back from this last diplomatic mission and was well beloved—some later sources even suggest that he may have been promoted for his diplomatic efforts. Oddly, however, we don’t really hear more, if anything, about Imoko, and he fades back into the past.
And so that covers much of the story of what Yamato was borrowing form the Sui and others during this period. Next episode—well, I’m honestly not sure what we’ll be covering next, as there is just so much. But stick around.
Until next time, then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Lurie, D. B. (2011). Realms of Literacy: Early Japan and the History of Writing. Harvard University Asia Center. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt1x07wq2
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Kawagoe, Aileen (2009). “Caps and court rank: the Kan’i junikai system”. Heritage of Japan. Retrieved 10/1/2023.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 94: Magpies, Buddhism, and the Baekje Summer Reading Program

September 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Wooden statue of a Buddhist priest, said to be Kanroku,aka Kwalleuk, the priest who came over to Yamato with books of Buddhist and Confucian thought, philosophy, and science. The image was likely made in the 10th century and was made for the Hōryūji, a temple said to be founded by Shōtoku Taishi on or near his palace. Hōryūji lays claim to the oldest extant wooden building in the world, built in the 7th century, and was heavily connected to Shotoku Taishi. Image in the public domain, per Wikimedia Commons.

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Here we go, starting our foray into the reign of Kashikiya Hime no Ōkimi, aka Suiko Tennō, and we start with looking at the relationship between the archipelago and the continent, particularly the states on the Korean Peninsula.

Dramatis Personae

I’m not going to cover everyone in this summary. Partly because some of the names are slightly familiar, but not so much that the individual is the point—at least not yet. There are a few exceptions, however,

Naniwa no Kishi

There are several individuals this time around that are known as either “Kishi” or “Naniwa no Kishi”, and mention of them goes back at least the reign of Wakatakiru, aka Yūryaku Tennō. There we see listed a “Naniwa no Kishi” and “Hitaka no Kishi”. In this case, “Kishi” seems to be like a kabane. However, by this point, the early 7th century, it seems like “Kishi” is used just like a name. It is possible it evolved into a name, over time, and I’ll try to look into that a bit more, just know that we are going to have some questions around the Naniwa no Kishi.

Kanroku / Kwalleuk

Kanroku—Aston translates his name into modern Korean as Kwalleuk—was a priest from Baekje and is seen as one of the teachers of Shōtoku Taishi.

Prince Kume

I mention this in the episode, but “Kume” means “Army” (though the characters they use are more like “Come” and “Eye/See”). Not much is known, other than the fact that he was recorded as a royal prince and he eventually was placed in charge of the army.

Tamahe no Kimi

The older brother of Umayado and Kume. Again, we don’t know much about him at this point, other than what is in the genealogical records. This appears to be the same person elsewhere listed as “Maruko”.

Magpies

As noted in the episode, magpies are not native to Japan. That said, there are two different types that the word the Japanese used could be used for . This first is the Eurasian Magpie (pica pica) and the other is the Oriental, or Chiense, Magpie (pica sericus). Although the magpies are not native to the archipelago, stories of them as auspicious birds no doubt came across.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 94: Magpies, Buddhism, and the Baekje Summer Reading Program
This is one of a multi-part series discussing the late 6th and early 7th centuries during the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou. Last episode, Episode 93, I did a very quick overview of just what is going on and some of the players involved. This episode I want to start deep diving into some of the topics, and we’re going to start with looking at the relationship between Yamato and the Continent, primarily, but not exclusively, through their relationships, the gifts and tribute that was going back and forth, and immigration—primarily from Baekje and Silla—and the importation of new ideas, not just Buddhism. This in turn would would eventually lead to a formal change in the way that the Yamato state governed itself and how it came to see itself even as an equal to that of the Sui court, which had unified the various kingdoms of the Yangtze and Yellow River Basins in the area of modern China.
To begin, we’ll go back a bit, because this dynamic isn’t simply about Kashikiya Hime, Soga no Umako, or any one, single figure—though that is often how it is portrayed. To start with, let’s cover some background and what we know about the archipelago and the continent.
As we went over many, many episodes back, the early Yayoi period, prior to the Kofun period, saw a growth in material cultural items that were from or quite similar to those on the Korean peninsula. There had been some similarities previously, during the Jomon period, but over the course of what now looks to be 1200 to 1300 years, the is evidence of people going regularly back and forth across the straits. It is quite likely that there were Wa cultural entities on both sides in the early centuries BCE, and there are numerous groups mentioned on the Korean peninsula, presumably from different ethno-linguistic backgrounds, though typically only three areas get much focus: The Samhan, or three Han, of Mahan, Byeonhan, and Jinhan. Later this would shift to three Kingdoms: Baekje, Silla, and Goguryeo, and they would get almost all of the press. Still, we know that there were groups like the Gaya, or Kara, confederacy, and likely other small, eventually isolated groups that did not have their stories written down anywhere, other than mentions in the Chronicles of Japan or of one of the other three major Kingdoms of the peninsula.
These groups continued to trade with the continent, and as the archipelago entered the period of mounded tombs, they were doing so as part of a larger mounded tomb cultural area that included both the archipelago and the Korean peninsula: First the funkyubo, which is to say burial mounds, with multiple burials, and then the kofun, the singular tomb mounds for an individual and possibly their direct relatives. This tradition reached its apex with the distinct zenpo-koen, or round-keyhole style, kofun, an innovation that was rooted in continental practice but at the same time distinctly a part of the archipelago.
Many artifacts came over throughout this period, and a fair number of them came with a new innovation: writing. There is debate over the earliest forms of “writing” to be found in the islands, with evidence of characters on pottery being questioned as to its authenticity. However, it is hard to question the writing that appeared on the early bronze mirrors and other such artifacts that showed up.
Early writing on the archipelago is more decorative or even performative—crude attempts to copy existing characters that often demonstrate a lack of understanding, at least by the artisans that were making various elite goods. Though, based on the fact that even obvious forgeries with nonsense characters made their way into tombs as grave goods, we can probably assume that most of the elites were not too concerned with writing, either, other than for its decorative, and possibly even talismanic qualities.
In the fourth and fifth centuries, this began to change. We have specialists and teachers coming over to the archipelago, often there as tutors for the royal Baekje princes who were apparently staying in Yamato as part of a diplomatic mission. No doubt some Yamato elites began to learn to read and write, but even at this point it seems to have been more of a novelty, and for several centuries reading and writing would seem to have remained largely the purview of educated immigrant communities who came to Yamato and set up shop. Though, along with things like the horse, writing may have nonetheless assisted Yamato in extending its authority, as speech could now, with a good scribe, be committed to paper or some other medium and then conveyed great distances without worry about something begin forgotten.
So, at this point, writing appears to mostly be utilitarian in purpose. It fills a need. That said, we have discussion of the Classics, and as reading and writing grew, exposure to writings on philosophy, religion, and other topics expanded.
After all, reading meant that you were no longer reliant on simply whom you could bring over from the continent. Instead, you could import their thoughts—or even the thoughts of humans long dead—and read them for yourself. In the early 6th century, we see Baekje sending over libraries worth of books. These are largely focused on Buddhist scriptures, but they also include other works of philosophy as well. It is unclear to me how much the evangelical nature of Buddhism contributed to this spread. Buddhism exhorts believers to share the Buddha’s teachings with all sentient beings. Even during the Buddha’s lifetime, his disciples would go out and teach and then gather back with their teacher during the rainy season.
Buddhist teachings, coming over in books—the sutras—came alongside of other writings. There were writings about philosophy, about medicine, and about science, including things that we might today consider magical or supernatural. Those who knew how to read and write had access to new knowledge, to new ideas, and to new ways of thinking. We can see how all of this mixed in the ways that things are described in the Chronicles. For example, we see that many of the rulers up to this point have been described in continental terms as wise and sage kings. Now, as Buddhism starts to gain a foothold, we see Buddhist terminology entering in to the mix. In some ways it is a mishmash of all of the different texts that were coming over, and it seems that things were coming more and more to a head.
In addition, there were things going on over on the continent as well, and this would come to also affect the archipelago. For one thing, this was a period of unification and consolidation of the various state polities. Baekje and Silla had been consolidating the smaller city-states under their administration for some time, and in 589 the Sui dynasty finally achieved what so many had tried since the time of the Jin—they consolidated control over both the Yangtze and Yellow River basins. They set up their capital, and in so doing they had control of the largest empire up to that point in the history of East Asia. The Sui dynasty covered not only these river basins, but they also had significant control over the Western Regions, out along the famous Silk Road.
The Sui could really make some claim to being Zhongguo, the Middle Kingdom, with so many of the trade routes passing through their territory. They also controlled the lands that were the source of so much of the literary tradition—whether that was the homelands of sages like Confucius, or else the gateway to India and the home of Buddhism. It is perfectly understandable that those states in the Sui’s orbit would enter a period of even further Sinification. For the archipelago this was likely through a lens tinted by their intermediaries on the Korean peninsula, but even they were clearly looking to the Sui and adopting some of the tools of statecraft that had developed over in the lands of the Middle Kingdom.
During the early years of the Sui, Yamato had been involved in their own struggles, and at the end of the previous reign Yamato had an army in Tsukushi poised to head over and chastise Silla for all that they had done to Nimna, but then Hasebe was assassinated, and it is unclear what actually happened to that expedition. Yamato started gathering an army in 591, and Kishi no Kana and Kishi no Itahiko were sent to Silla and Nimna, respectively, as envoys, and then we are told that in 595 the generals and their men arrived from Tsukushi. Does that mean that they went over to the peninsula, fought, and then came back from Tsukushi? It is all a little murky, and not entirely clear to me.
Rather, we are told that in 597 the King of Baekje sent Prince Acha to Yamato with so-called “tribute”—the diplomatic gifts that we’ve discussed before, re-affirming Baekje and Yamato’s alliance. Later that same year, Iwagane no Kishi was sent to Silla, so presumably Yamato and Silla relations had improved. Iwagane no Kishi returned back some five months later, in 598, and he offered a gift from the Silla court of two magpies to Kashikiya Hime. We are told that they were kept in the wood of Naniwa, where they built a nest in a tree and had their young.
Aston notes here that magpies are plentiful on the continent but not in Japan. Indeed, their natural range is noted across eastern China and up through the Amur river region, as well as a subspecies up in Kamchatka, and yet it seems like they didn’t exactly stray far from the coast. In modern Japan, the magpie, is considered to be an invasive species, and the current populations likely were brought over through trade in the late 16th century, suggesting that this initial couple of birds and their offspring did not exactly work out. Even today magpies are mostly established in Kyushu, with occasional sightings further north—though they have been seen as far north as Hokkaido. Perhaps Naniwa just was not quite as hospitable for them. There is also the possibility that the term “magpie” was referencing some other, similar bird. That is always possible and hard to say for certain.
That said, it is part of a trend, as four months later, in the autumn of 598, a Silla envoy brought another bird: this time a peacock. Not to be outdone, apparently, a year later, in the autumn of 599, Baekje sent a veritable menagerie: a camel, two sheep, and a white pheasant. Presumably these were sent alive, though whether or not there was anyone in Japan who knew how to take care of them it is unclear. I can only imagine what it must have been like to have such animals on board the ship during the treacherous crossing of the Korea strait—for all we know there were other exotic gifts that were likewise sent, but these are the only ones that made it.
And if this sounds far-fetched, we have plenty of evidence of the exotic animal trade. Animals such as ostriches, and possibly even a giraffe or two, were somehow moved all the way from Africa along the silk road to the court in Chang’an.
There were also “tribute” gifts sent from parts of the archipelago, though I suspect this was quite different from the diplomatic gifts shared between states. For example, there was a white deer sent to Kashikiya Hime from the land of Koshi in the winter of 598. It was no camel or magpie, but white or albino animals—assuming that wasn’t their normal color—were considered auspicious symbols.
Also, in 595 there was a huge log that washed ashore in Awaji. A local family hauled it up and went to use it as firewood when they noticed that it gave off a particularly sweet smell. Immediately they put out the fire, as they suddenly realized what they had: it was a log of aloeswood. Aloeswood is well known as one of the most highly prized aromatic woods, and it famously does not grow in Japan. In fact, it is a tropical wood, growing in Southeast Asia. For a log to have washed ashore is almost unbelievable—perhaps it was part of a trade shipment that sank. It isn’t impossible that a log somehow fell, naturally, into the ocean and followed the currents all the way up to Japan, which would have been quite the journey.
And so, with such a rare gift, the people offered it up to Kashikiya Hime. This was probably the best course of action. They could use it for themselves, but that likely wouldn’t have done much other than help perfume the air for a time. Or they could have tried to sell it—but given the rarity, I’m sure there would have been questions. In both cases, I suspect that they would have been at risk of some elite getting wind and deciding that they should just take it for themselves. By offering it to the court, publicly, they received the credit for it, at least—and it probably put them in favor with the court at least for a little while.
Logs like this would be treated with immense respect. Small pieces would be taken, often ground down and used sparingly. A piece much like this called “Ranjatai” came over as a gift from the Tang dynasty in the 8th century, and was later preserved at Todaiji in the 8th century, and is still there as part of the Shosoin collection.
The story of this particular one is interesting in that knowledge of aloeswood and the tradition of scent appreciation likely came over from the continent, probably from the Sui and Tang dynasties, as part of the overall cultural package that the archipelago was in the midst of absorbing.
Despite the apparently good relations indicated by gifts like magpies or peacocks, it is clear there were still some contentions with Silla, especially given that nobody had forgotten their takeover of Nimna, and it didn’t help that in 600, we are told that Silla and Nimna went to war with each other--again. It isn’t clear just how involved Yamato was in this, if at all—by all accounts, Nimna has already been under Silla control. Was this a local rebellion? An attempt by Yamato and Baekje to split it off? Or something else? Or is it just a fabrication to justify the next bit, where we are told that Kashikiya Hime sent an army of 10,000 soldiers under the command of Sakahibe no Omi as Taishogun and Hozumi no Omi as his assistant, the Fukushogun? They crossed the waters over to Silla and laid siege to five of Silla’s fortresses, forcing Silla to raise the white flag. The Nihon Shoki claims that Silla then ceded six fortified places: Tatara, Sonara, Pulchikwi, Witha, South Kara, and Ara.
Since Silla submitted, the Yamato troops stopped their assault and Kashikiya Hime sent Naniwa no Kishi no Miwa to Silla and Naniwa no Kishi no Itahiko to Nimna to help broker some sort of peace. Interestingly, this seems quite similar to the account of 591, when they sent “Kishi no Itahiko”, with no mention of Naniwa. Presumably it is the same individual, and I have to wonder if it isn’t the same event, just relocated and duplicated for some reason.
A peace was brokered, and the Yamato troops departed, but it seems that Silla was dealing in something other than good faith: no sooner had the Yamato troops gotten back in their boats than Silla once again invaded Nimna, again.
I’d like to stress that there is no evidence of this at all that I could find in the Samguk Sagi, and it is possible that some of this is in the wrong section, possibly to simply prop up this period, in general. However, it is equally as likely that the Samguk Sagi simply did not record a loss to Yamato—especially one that they quickly overturned, setting things back to the status quo. As such, the best we can say is that Silla and Yamato around this time were less than buddy buddy.
With Silla going back on their word, Yamato reached out to Goguryeo and Baekje in 601. Ohotomo no Muraji no Kurafu went to Goguryeo, while Sakamoto no Omi no Nukade traveled to Baekje. Silla was not just waiting around, however, and we are told that Silla sent a spy to Yamato, but they were arrested and found out in Tsushima. They arrested him and sent him as tribute to the Yamato court.
We are told that the spy’s name was “Kamata”, and he was banished to Kamitsukenu—aka the land of Kenu nearer to the capital, later known as Kouzuke. And there are a few things about this story that I think we should pull on.
First off, that name: Kamata. That feels very much like a Wa name, more than one from the peninsula. We aren’t told their ethnicity, only whom they were working for, so it may have been someone from Wa, or possibly that is just the name by which they were known to the archipelago. There likely were Wa who were living on the peninsula, just like there were people from Baekje, Silla, and Koguryeo living in the archipelago, so that’s not out of the question. Furthermore, it would make sense, if you wanted to send someone to spy on Yamato, to use someone who looked and sounded the part.
The punishment is also interesting. They didn’t put him to death. And neither did they imprison him. In fact, I’m not sure that there would have been anywhere to imprison him, as there wasn’t really a concept of a “prison” where you just lock people up. There may have been some form of incarceration to hold people until they could be found guilty and punished, but incarceration as a punishment just doesn’t really come up. Instead, if you wanted to remove someone, banishment seems to have been the case—sending them off somewhere far away, presumably under the care of some local official who would make sure that they didn’t run off. Islands, like Sado Island, were extremely useful for such purposes, but there are plenty of examples where other locations were used as well.
They probably could have levied a fine, as well, but that seems almost pointless, as he would have been free to continue to spy on Yamato. Instead they sent him about as far away from Silla and Silla support as they could send him.
This also speaks to the range of Yamato’s authority. It would seem that Tsushima was at least nominally reporting to Yamato, though given that he was sent as “tribute” to the court, that may indicate that they still had some level of autonomy. And then there must have been someone in Kamitsukenu in order to banish someone all the way out there, as well.
Of course, given all of this, it is hardly surprising that Yamato was back to discussing the possibility of making war with Silla again. And so, in the second month of 602, Prince Kume was appointed for the invasion of Silla, and he was granted the various “Be” of the service of the kami—possibly meaning groups like the Imbe and the Nakatomi, along with the Kuni no Miyatsuko, the Tomo no Miyatsuko, and an army of 25,000 men. And they were ready to go quickly—only two months later they were in Tsukushi, in the district of Shima, gathering ships to ferry the army over to the peninsula.
Unfortunately, two months later, things fell apart. On the one hand, Ohotomo no Muraji no Kurafu and Sakamoto no Omi no Nukade returned back from Baekje, where they likely had been working with Yamato’s allies. Kurafu had been on a mission to Goguryeo and Nukade had been sent to Baekje the previous year. However, at the same time, Prince Kume fell ill, and he was unable to carry out the invasion.
In fact, the invasion was stalled at least through the next year, when, in about the 2nd month of 603, almost a year after Prince Kume had been sent out, a mounted courier brought news to Kashikiya Hime that he had succumbed to his illness. She immediately consulted with her uncle, Soga no Umako, and the Crown Prince, Umayado, and asked them for their counsel. Ultimately, she had Kume’s body taken to Saba in Suwo, out at the western end of the Seto Inland Sea side of western Honshu, modern Yamaguchi Prefecture, where the prince was temporarily interred, with Hashi no Muraji no Wite, possibly a local official, overseeing the ceremony. Later, Wite’s descendants in the region were called the Saba no Muraji. Kume was finally buried atop Mt. Hanifu in Kawachi.
A quick note here about time. It is sometimes difficult to figure out just what happened when. This is all noted for the fourth day of the second month of 603. Clearly it didn’t all happen in one day, so what actually happened on that day? Remember, Kume fell ill in the 6th month of 602, and we are now in the 2nd month of the following year. So did he fall ill and then was wasting away for 8 months before he passed away? Or is this the date when the court learned of his death? Or is it the date when his body was finally buried? There is a lot going on, and they don’t exactly provide a day-to-day. My general take is that this is when the news arrived at the court, which is when there would have been a court record, while the rest was likely commentary added for context, even if it happened much later.
In addition, this whole thing holds some questions for me, not the least the name of this prince: Kume. Presumably, Kume was a full brother to none other than the Crown Prince, Prince Umayado. He was also a son of Princess Anahobe and the sovereign, Tachibana no Toyohi, and we have seen then name “Kume” before as a name, or at least a sobriquet, for someone in the royal family. However, it also means “army”, which seems surprisingly on the nose, given that all we are given about him is that he was supposed to lead an army. It makes me wonder if this wasn’t one of those half-remembered stories that the Chroniclers included without all of the information. Then again, maybe Kume really was his name, and this is all just a coincidence.
I also would note that it was not typical to have a royal prince leading an expedition like this. Typically, the taishogun would be someone from an influential family, but not a member of the royal family, themselves. That this army was being led by a royal prince also seems to speak to how this was seen as significant. Perhaps that is why, when Kume passed away, they chose as his replacement his older brother: Tahema. [Look up more on Tahema and if I can find out about him]
Tahema was selected to take over for his younger brother on the first day of the 4th month of 603, and 3 months later, on the 3rd day of the 7th month, he was leaving out of Naniwa. He didn’t get very far, however. Tahema embarked on this adventure along with his own wife, Princess Toneri. We’ve seen this in past episodes, where women were in the camp alongside their husbands, directly supporting the campaigns. Unfortunately, in this case, Princess Toneri died shortly into their journey, at Akashi. This is recorded as only three days after they had departed, which likely means it happened quickly. They buried her at Higasa Hill, but Tahema, likely grieving his loss, returned, and never carried out the invasion.
Five years later, things may have improved with Silla, as there were a number of immigrants—we are only told that they were “many persons”—came to settle in Japan. What isn’t noted is whether or not this was of their own volition. What forces drove them across from the peninsula? Did they realize that there were opportunities to come and provide the Yamato elites with their continental knowledge and skills? Were they prisoners of war? If so, where was the war? Or were they fleeing conflict on the peninsula? Perhaps political refugees? It isn’t exactly clear.
While things were rocky with Silla, relations seem to have been much better with the Baekje and Goguryeo. While exotic animals may have been the gift of choice in the early part of the period, by 602, Baekje and Goguryeo were both sending gifts of a different sort. These were more focused on spiritual and intellectual pursuits. And so, in 602, a Baekje priest named Kwalleuk—or Kanroku, in the Japanese pronunciation—arrived bringing books on a number of different subjects, which three or four members of the court were assigned to study. We don’t know exactly what the contents of each book was, but based on what we generally know about later theories, we can probably make some educated guesses that much of this was probably based on concepts of yin and yang energies. Yin and yang, were considered primal energies, and at some point I will need to do a full episode just on this, but during the Han dynasty, many different cosmological theories came together and were often explained in terms of yin and yang. So elemental theory is explained as each element has some different portion of yin and yang, and similarly different directions, different times of day, and different times of the year were all explained as different proportions of yin and yang energies, which then contributed to whether certain actions would be easier or more difficult—or even outright dangerous.
The book on calendar-making, or ”koyomi”, was assigned to Ohochin, whose name suggests that he may have been from a family from the continent, and he was the ancestor of the Yako no Fumibito. Calendar-making was considered one of the more important roles in continental sciences, although it never quite took off to the same degree in Yamato. Still, it described the movement of the stars and how to line up the lunar days with various celestial phenomena. It also was important for understanding auspicious and inauspicious days, directions, and more—arts like divination, geomancy, and straight up magic would often provide instructions that required an understanding of the proper flow of yin and yang energies, as represented by the elements, and expressed on the calendar in terms of the elemental branch and stem system, with each day being related to a given element in an either greater or lesser capacity, usually related as the elder or younger brother. Events might be scheduled to take place, for instance, on the first rat day of the first month, and so the calendar maker would be the one to help determine when that would be. Also, since the solar and lunar calendars were not in synch, there would occasionally be a need for a “leap month”, often known as an extra-calendrical month, which would typically just repeat the previous month. This would happen, literally, “once in a blue moon”, an English expression referring to a solar month with two full moons. In fact, we just had one of those last month, in August of 2023.
This isn’t to say that the archipelago didn’t have a system of keeping track of seasons, etc. Clearly they were successfully planting and harvesting rice, so they had knowledge of roughly what time it was in the year, though there are some thoughts that a “year” was originally based on a single growing period, leading to two or three “years” each solar year. Either way, farmers and others no doubt knew at least local conditions and what to look for regarding when to plant, and when to perform local ceremonies, but this was clearly a quote-unquote, “scientific” approach, based on complex and authoritative sounding descriptions of yin and yang energies.
Closely related to the calendar-making studies, another book that the Baekje priest Kwalleuk brought over was one on Astronomy, or “Tenmon”, a study of the heavens, which was studied by Ohotomo no Suguri no Kousou. For perhaps obvious reasons, astronomy and calendar-making were closely aligned, since the change in the stars over the course of the year would often have impacts on the calendar. However, this was also likely very closely aligned with something akin to astrology, as well, following the celestial paths of various entities, many of those being things like planets. If you aren’t aware, planets, though they often appear in the sky as “stars”, have apparently erratic movements across the heavens. The stars generally remain fixed, and from our perspective appear to “move” together throughout the year. Planets, however, take funky loop-de-loop paths through our sky, as they, like the earth, are also orbiting the sun. Furthermore, different planets orbit at different speeds. All of this leads to some apparently strange movements, especially if you envision the sky as a round dome over a flat earth. There are also other phenomenon, from regular meteor showers to comets, and even eclipses, all of which were thought to have their own reasons. Some of these were considered natural—neither auspicious nor inauspicious—while others were thought to impact the flow of yin yang energy on the earth, thus potentially affecting our day-to-day lives.
Kousou was apparently trying to get the special bonus for the summer reading program, because he also studied another book that came over from Baekje on a subject that Aston translates as “Invisibility”, or “tonkou”. This is a little less obvious an explanation. I don’t think that they were literally studying, ninja-style, how to not to be seen. In discussions of kami we’ve talked in the past about visible kami and, thus, conversely, invisible kami. It appears to be based on a type of divination to help better understand auspicious and inauspicious signs, and is based on a blend of various theories, again connected to a large yin-yang theory.
Finally, there was another volume that was studied by Yamashiro no Omi no Hinamitsu that Aston translates as straight up “magic”, or “houjutsu”. Of course, in the worldview at the time, Magic was just another science that we didn’t understand. By understanding the flow of yin and yang, one can affect various things, from helping cure disease and heal the sick to causing calamity, even to the point of possibly learning the secrets of immortality.
Much of this would fall into the terms “onmyoudou”, the way of Yin and Yang, and there had been some work on that introduced earlier. That it was being introduced by a Buddhist priest demonstrates what I was saying earlier about just how interconnected it all was.
Other Buddhist gifts were much more straightforward. In 605, for instance, the king of Goguryeo sent 300 Ryou of what they call “yellow metal”, possibly an admixture of gold and copper, for a Buddhist image. Five years later they sent two priests. One of them, Tamchi, is said to have known the Five Classics, that is the Confucian classics, as well as how to prepare different colored paints, paper, and ink.
All of this is interesting, but it is the usual suspects. Yamato had been siphoning off culture and philosophy from the states and kingdoms of the Korean peninsula for some time, and in that time, they began to adopt various continental practices. In later centuries, much of this would be attributed to the work of Shotoku Taishi, aka Prince Umayado, especially the transmission of Buddhist thought, although for the most part we haven’t actually seen a lot of that in the Chronicles themselves, which we’ll get to.
However, later stories paint him as one of the main forces pushing for reform in the court, especially when they would eventually push for a new, 17 article constitution, based on principles pulled from a variety of sources—both Buddhist and Han philosophical foundations. Along with that constitution, the court also instituted a 12 rank system for court ministers. This ranking system would remain in place, eventually replacing entirely the kabane system that ranked individuals based on their family in favor of ranking one for their individual achievements.
Furthermore, it wasn’t just a status symbol. Rank would come into play in all aspects of courtly life, from the parts of the palace you were allowed to be in, the kinds of jobs you could do, and even the amount that you were paid for your service, making the families of the land part of and dependent on the bureaucracy.
And with such a system in place, there was only one natural thing for it: The Yamato court would reach out beyond the Korean peninsula and go directly to the source. They would send envoys to the court of the Sui Emperor himself and establish relations with the Middle Kingdom directly, leading to one of the most famous diplomatic incidents in all of the early Japanese history.
And that is where I’m going to have to leave it for now, because once we get into that rabbit hole we are going to have a whole other episode. And so now we are fully grounded in our foundation. We can see Yamato importing people and also ideas from the continent, through the peninsula, and those ideas are taking root. They are causing changes, at least at the Yamato court, but those changes would eventually make there way throughout society, and forever change Japan and even how they see themselves. The lens of what is commonly seen as Buddhist and Confucian thought would be a powerful tool that would shape the ideas to come.
Until next time, then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Lurie, D. B. (2011). Realms of Literacy: Early Japan and the History of Writing. Harvard University Asia Center. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt1x07wq2
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 93: Time to Shake Things Up

September 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

The Kaname-Ishi of Kashima Shrine. The divot in the top is said to be the place where Takemikazuchi struck the earth with his staff to subdue the catfish that dwells under the earth and causes earthquakes when it thrashes about.

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This episode we are entering an era jam-packed with stories and information, and so this episode we are going to start off with just an overview so that we have somewhere to mentally hang the stories that we are going to go into more depth on.

That said, not a lot in this blog post other than the kaname ishi. Above we have the kaname ishi from Kashima and below is the kaname ishi of Katori shrine. I find these intriguing as the two shrines are linked in a number of ways. Futsunushi is seen together with Takemikazuchi in the ancient stories, and both of them are related to the Nakatomi and Fujiwara families in some way, shape, or form. They are only a relatively short distance from each other as well. Finally, both are considered martial shrines, and the ichi no tachi of Katori Shrine is said to have inspired Iizasa Choisai Ienao to create Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu, which in turn is credited with influencing the Shinto Ryu of Kashima as well. We’ll cover much of this in a later episode as we get to looking at the Nakatomi and some of their ancestral deities, but I still find all of the connections intriguing.

The Kaname Ishi of Katori shrine. This one is prominent but didn’t have a noticeable divot.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 93: Time to Shake Things Up.
Before we get started, a couple of shout-outs. First to Anticia, for donating on Ko-Fi.com. Thanks for your kind words and supporting our operations, including our website and this podcast. And then to Lowbrow78 and to Parp for supporting us on Patreon. If you want to join them, we have information on our website as well as at the end of every episode.
Here we are, at the cusp of the 7th century. With the death of Hasebe no Ohokimi, aka Sushun Tennou, we are about to jump into one of the most significant reigns to date: that of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou. I put this right up there with the reign of Waketakiru, aka Yuryaku Tennou, and like that period, we’ll need several episodes to get through everything going on here. In fact, I’ve been thinking about just how to do this, and I think before we get into it we need to cover the broad strokes and talk about a few things, and then I want to delve into some specifics over the coming episodes.
This means we’ll cover a lot this episode at a high level. To start with, we’ll talk about the power players of this period, and just who was really running the show—we have three people to pick from based on various interpretations of this era. And that will have us talking about Shotoku Taishi, and of course Shotoku Taishi’s impact vis-à-vis Buddhism, as well as the growth of Buddhism in general. There is also the general Sinification of the court, which means that we also get to talk about clothing styles and the appearance of a new “17 Article Constitution” as well as the new 12 rank system for court officers. And then there is everything happening on the mainland. In 589 the Sui dynasty came to power, followed in 618 by the Tang. And of course we still have Baekje and Silla going at it, and Yamato just cannot leave well enough alone when it comes to Nimna. All of that will get covered in even more detail, later.
But don’t worry, it isn’t all going to be generalities and vague preparations. We also have a little tidbit for you at the end about earthquakes and the deities that cause them, because *that* is something we can easily cover here.
And one more thing: This is the last reign that we have any documentation for in the Kojiki and the Sendai Kuji Hongi, even though the Kojiki is largely just genealogical information. That means we are getting close to the end of the “Chronicles”. We still have a lot of material to get through, though, including assassinations, coups, military expeditions, and even a full blown civil war. All that to come later, after we get through this period.
So let’s set the stage, shall we? This reign is coming at a very tumultuous time. We’ve been through several sovereigns or would-be sovereigns in a very short span, starting with Tachibana no Toyohi and then Hasebe, aka Yomei Tennou and Sushun Tennou, not to mention the failed attempt to take the throne early by Hasetsukabe Anahobe and Mononobe no Moriya. Even Hasebe was killed by his own Oho-omi, Soga no Umako—or at least at Umako’s order, if not directly by his own hand.
It’s become clear you didn’t want to be crossing Umako, and he was the most powerful minister at court at this point. There wasn’t a cabal of Oho-omi and Oho-muraji, there was simply Umako at the top. However, his rule was not absolute. He still needed the buy-in of the other ministers, the heads of their own families, as well as the nominal approval of the sovereign and the royal family. I’m honestly surprised nobody tried to put a dagger in his back, but then again anyone who might try had so far ended up with their successors caught up in probate, and it didn’t matter how powerful a position they supposedly occupied.
Still, Umako couldn’t take the throne himself. Not even he could get away with that looking like anything more than a power grab. He had already positioned Soga-descended members of the royal family so that they were in the line of succession, something that really looks like it went against tradition—though how old that tradition was is more than a little sus, as we’ve mentioned before. And so, with the death of Hasebe, someone was needed on the throne, but who was available? The political violence had even extended to some of the heirs, like Prince Hikobito, and it is unclear how many princes were even left at this point.
The Chronicles tell us that the ministers therefore turned to Kashikiya Hime, and begged her to take the throne.
As a reminder, Kashikiya Hime was the form queen—wife to Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou. Beyond that, she was a granddaughter of Soga no Iname, making Soga no Umako her maternal uncle. Her father was Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niha, aka Kimmei Tennou. During the period following Ame Kunioshi’s death, she had attempted to put her finger on the scales of the power struggles that occurred, and she seemed to be a person that people listened to and took seriously in her role, though male heirs were at least initially considered before her.
And so, when she was first asked to take the throne after Hasebe, she refused, but eventually the court ministers able to convince her. Upon coming to power she almost immediately made Prince Umayado the Heir Apparent, or Taishi—the Crown Prince. Then we are told that, along with Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, she and Soga no Umako, the Oho-omi, ruled the government. And I hope I don’t need to point out how exceedingly strange this wording is. Technically it isn’t unprecedented—in previous reigns we’ve certainly seen the Crown Prince taking an active role in the government, and the Oho-omi and the Oho-muraji, together, were frequently in positions to advise, counsel, and downright run the government, often skipping over the sovereign altogether. So nothing here is so far outside the scope, but it is still odd that it was so blatantly stated, and there is good reason to believe that we don’t have the whole story.
Theories on Kashikiya Hime and her reign vary widely. Michael Como claims that she was likely a consensus candidate—she was put forward because she was not overly objectionable to any of the other parties involved. I suspect she had links to both sides of the dispute, so this make some sense, but I also wonder if it doesn’t remove her own agency.
Speaking of which, there is the possibility that she had very little agency in any of this. There is the possibility that she was no more than a puppet—a relatively docile sovereign that Soga no Umako, or even Prince Umayado, could control, allowing them to work in the background. Indeed, one of the things we’ll see during this period is the increasing ritualization of the role of the sovereign, to the point that the Oho-omi was a powerful intermediary, receiving missives to the throne and relaying them onward, with ample opportunity to affect just how they were heard.
Often the Chroniclers found ways to deny the true agency of women on the throne, noting them less as sovereigns, and more as regents—often merely keeping the seat warm until an appropriate male heir presented himself and came of age. That may have been the case at times, but I have a hard time seeing that in Kashikiya Hime. Maybe when she first married Nunakura that may have been her outlook, but since then she’d seen some things. She knew how the game worked, and we’ve seen her actively mentioned supporting one candidate or another, and not always agreeing with Soga no Umako’s decisions. It is possible that this was added later to support her independence in the Chronicles, but I think that the easier answer is that Kashikiya Hime was her own person, and as ruler she was the authority that held sway.
Still, there are so many questions, and a lot of those revolve around her choice of successor, Prince Umayado, the Prince of the Horse Stable Door, aka Shotoku Taishi.
Shotoku Taishi is one of those legendary figures, somewhere between Yamato Takeru and Abe no Seimei. So many stories have grown up around this sage prince that it is truly hard to pry fact from fiction, and many wonder if he ever existed at all. Others suggest that he’s an amalgamation of several different historical and legendary figures. Even by the time the Chronicles were being written his legends had reached cult like status, with numerous Buddhist temples claiming some connection to this founding sage of Japanese Buddhism, however tenuous. It doesn’t stop there, however. Shotoku Taishi is said to have written one of the earliest national histories, and there are claims that this early history is none other than the Kūjiki, the text that we have in the Sendai Kūji Hongi. Some have speculated that this why that work and the Kojiki both stop here, with the reign of Kashikiya Hime.
Of course, in the case of the Kojiki, the real narrative stopped some time ago, with the later reigns containing little more than genealogical lists. The Sendai Kūji Hongi is a little more interesting.
It Is clear that the authors of the Nihon Shoki and the Sendai Kūji Hongi were working from some of the same texts, with possibly one referencing the other, but at the same time there are small differences that suggest different authors with different purposes. The Nihon Shoki certainly has more details on the official histories, while the Sendai Kūji Hongi contains sections on the genealogical information of the Mononobe and Owari families as well as information on various provincial governors.
Personally, I find it highly questionable that the Sendai Kūji Hongi might be written by Shotoku Taishi, but I concede that it, along with the Nihon Shoki, might have both borrowed from an earlier work.
Nonetheless, it does stop, and only the Nihon Shoki covers the next couple centuries, though in even greater detail. We start to see more granular details about many items, though there are still questions.
Given all of the swirl around Shotoku Taishi, however, I’ve had to think about just what tack to take with him, and for now we’ll take a look at what the official narrative has to say, and then perhaps add a bit more context. I’ll frequently be referring to him here as Prince Umayado, and we’ll focus on him primarily as a prince and a political figure.
Given that, there is the question of whether or not Prince Umayado was actually running things. I’m not aware of any tradition that claims he was more than the Crown Prince, and as such a powerful advisor to the throne. Umako seems more likely as a power behind the throne, but there are certainly clues that Umayado was up there—and of course, in later years, Shotoku Taishi’s own shine meant that people were more likely than not to attribute just about anything good from this period to him and his auspices, even if it was just because he suggested it.
But that brings us to the question: Just what happened during this reign that was worth anyone taking credit for? What happened that we are spending our time talking about it?
To start with, the reign was just long. Kashikiya Hime was taking the throne around 593 and she would reign up until her death in 628. That was over thirty years, which is a good run for any sovereign, for reasons we’ve covered before, such as the fact that they are usually coming to the throne when they are older, etc. Remember, she was probably born in the 530s, possibly 538, and so she took the throne in her late 50s or early 60s and held it until she was about 90 years old.
During this period, there was a lot of change going on outside the archipelago as well as inside. In 589, the Sui dynasty had come to power, uniting the Yellow River and Yangtze River basins. Their reign officially ended about 618, though that wasn’t necessarily a given at the time, and they were certainly a powerhouse as they united the northern and southern dynasties. The Sui status fell in 618 only because it was replaced by a new dynasty: The Tang dynasty. This was a dynasty founded by Li Yuan, a cousin of the Sui emperors, with a multi-ethnic background including Han and non-Han parentage, who came from a traditionally Xianbei—or by that time Tuoba—region. Tang dynasty culture would come to influence all of the cultures on the peninsula and the archipelago, truly becoming the “Middle Country” that various states looked to as a cultural touchstone. Tang culture spread throughout East Asia.
The states on the Korean Peninsula had been absorbing the culture of the riverine courts for some time—honestly ever since the time of the Han commanderies. As Buddhism percolated through the elite societies of Baekje, Silla, and now Yamato, it was more than just religious transmission. Sutras had been translated into Sinic characters, and Buddhist learning often went hand-in-hand with texts on a variety of other issues, as there was no formal line drawn between science, philosophy, and religion.
And so, as Yamato embraced Buddhism, there were other avenues of studies that also came over the straits, often attributed to the descendants of the Han dynasty, but largely filtered through a Baekje or even Silla lens. We see this manifest in myriad ways, from the various physical objects left behind in tombs, etc., as well as the clothing, of which we have several indications that the islands were adopting continental practice. However, we also have passages about the adoption of certain knowledge or technology, as well: everything from philosophy and calendar making to geomancy and even magic and the art of invisibility.
And then we see another important development this reign: The first constitution in Japan. Known as the 17-Article Constitution, it is attributed to none other than Shotoku Taishi himself, making him, in a way, the father of the country. Granted, the constitution was light on actual details, and more like a collection of moral maxims. This included things like anti-corruption tenets, suggesting that maybe you shouldn’t do things in government just because someone paid or flattered you. Still, these were not necessarily formative statements. After all, the Yamato state had customs and traditions, and so these were seen as more guiding principles than the kind of generative formulae that you might find in something like the US Constitution, where they were attempting to deliberately define the legal framework for a brand new nation.
Nonetheless, it is seen as the start of a new era for Yamato. This law may have been loosely worded, but it was, eventually, written down. It also was quickly followed by a new ranking system. The kabane system of ranking didn’t go away—not even the traditional individual honorifics, like Sukune, although that would have a bit of gap in the record. The Kabane system remained in use to rank the various families, but then a twelve cap system was instituted to rank individual courtiers.
This was a first. While certain courtiers certainly had privileges—for example, the heads of certain families—the ranking system, which came to be used, in one form or another, throughout east Asia, was a distinctly continental tradition. On the face of it, this was about setting up a meritocracy. Those who were most deserving would stand at the top, overseeing those below them. Of course in Yamato, “most deserving” usually meant those who came from the right families, so we’ll see how that evolves over time.
We also see some changes in the way that Yamato was coming to view itself as the center versus the periphery. Lands that were once sovereign units unto themselves, had gone from simply acknowledging the nominal hegemony of Yamato to finding their subservient position being written into the law. We see an idea that individual governors—the lords of those regions now part of the larger Yamato state—should not levy their own taxes, but that there should be a single tax on the people. This is a critical concept, and it would be interesting to see just how well it was obeyed; certainly in later periods it was often the prerogative of local governors to adjust the taxes to take into account their, ahem, overhead. Nominally this was to cover the costs of local administration, but in many periods it was assessed by those in charge, locally, to help cover their personal costs, and was often set based on what the local administrators thought that they could get away with, as all of the excess went to line their own pockets. This would make provincial governorships rather lucrative, though being that far from the capital and the seat of power would have its drawbacks. This is a not uncommon model for tax collecting in different societies, where tax collectors paid themselves out of the taxes they collected.
At this point in time, however, the central government was clearly trying to get a handle on this practice, and it makes sense as they were trying to assert more direct sovereignty over the land and the people. So it would not do to have the people paying taxes to two lords, since there could be only one ultimate sovereign, and they were seated on the throne in Yamato. This goes along with a continual thread of centralization of state control, another concept that they were likely pulling from the way that continental states were organized.
And all of this came along with a healthy dose of Buddhism. This reign we see the completion of Asukadera, one of the key temples to be set up in this time. We also get indications of the start of Shitennouji, in modern Ohosaka, the ancient temple of Houryuji, which even today still boasts the oldest wooden building in the world, and the temple of Koryuji, in the Uzumasa district of modern Kyoto. In addition to this we are told that the elites went on something of a temple-building craze.
This temple building craze—and particularly the building of state sponsored temples—would be a new sign of elite status, but it would also pull resources away from previous traditional efforts. Most notably, the labor going to build, staff, and maintain Buddhist temples would pull people away from the building and maintaining of monumental tombs. This doesn’t mean that they would go away, but the tombs certainly changed, and we would see them become smaller, less prominent, and, ultimately, they would be just about phased out altogether, except for a few particularly prominent examples.
In addition to the growing influence of the Buddhist religion, relations with the mainland were also notable. There are several mentions of different types of “tribute” from Baekje, Silla, Goguryeo, and even various parts of the archipelago.
Of course, once more we kick off the regular attempts to “free” Nimna from Silla rule. However, it should be noted that there isn’t a lot of corroborating evidence for any of Yamato’s peninsular activities. Perhaps this is due to the fact that they were successful, and that hardly appealed to those compiling works like the Samguk Sagi, who were, after all, writing to help prop up the Silla kingdom and their royal family just as the Japanese Chroniclers were doing for theirs. There is also the possibility that this was something that didn’t happen. Or at least not as it is described. It is quite possible that the impact of any attempts to chastise Silla were overblown, or even anachronistic. Long story short, we don’t see any lasting gains by Yamato this period, with many of the attempted military excursions being halted or called off for a number of reasons.
We also see Yamato racing farther afield. Although they call them the Great Tang, based on the timing it seems that Yamato made direct contact with the Sui dynasty some time after the latter had one again unified the area of eastern China. This contact was significant in a time when the Court, in general, was turning to more Sinified continental practices. It is also significant that Yamato approached these contacts with a certain pride, assuming an equal status in their communications. This is borne out in the Chinese histories as well.
All in all, there is a lot going on here, so we are going to deep dive into many of these topics.
That said, there is one thing that I’ll cover in this episode as I’m not sure it really fits well into anything else, but it is a fun diversion. It happened in the summer of 599, about six years into Kashikiya Hime’s reign. Specifically it was the 27th day of the 4th lunar month when the peace of the realm was disturbed by a tremendous earthquake that we are told “destroyed all the houses”.
Now Japan is no stranger to earthquakes. They sit on the Pacific Rim’s “Ring of Fire”, and volcanic and geologic activity is largely responsible for the islands’ shape and mountainous terrain. Not only that, but many of the volcanos across the island are still active, even today. One stat I read suggested that 10% of the world’s active volcanoes are in Japan. We talked about two eruptions that we know about from the early 6th century back in Episode XXX, but still, those are rare enough. There has been roughly only one significant eruption every hundred years or so, that we know of. Meanwhile, Japan experiences about 1500 earthquakes each year. Most of them are probably not even noticed by anyone not looking at a seismograph, of course. Over the past decade there has been more than one earthquake each year at magnitude 7 or higher, but these are often in particular places.
Quick digression here—but if you hear about an earthquake in Japan, the numbers that they use to calculate the size are often different from what you might find in the US or other countries. In the US we usually talk about the Richter scale, developed in 1935 by Charles Richter. It measures the magnitude in a logarithmic scale, meaning that a category 7.0 earthquake is actually 10 times as powerful as a category 6.0. Likewise a category 8.0 is ten times that of a 7.0, and one hundred times more powerful than a 6.0. However, this only really provides the local magnitude, and it doesn’t tell you other things, such as the type of force—a sharp crack versus rolling waves, for example—or even the duration. In Japan, there are a few different ways that the Japanese Meterological Agency classifies earthquakes, and one of those is the Seismic Intensity scale, also known as the Shindo scale.
The Shindo scale is more concerned with the effects of the earthquake than simply the magnitude, and while there are 10 different classifications, it only goes up to 7, as levels 5 and 6 are broken up into “Weak” and “Strong” intensities. This can lead to some misunderstanding when looking at a report regarding Japanese earthquakes, as 7 is the highest they go, but they aren’t measuring things the same way.
However you measure it, there have been significant earthquakes, with a magnitude of 7.0 or higher, or with loss of life and property, over once a year, on average. The damage and effects are often somewhat localized, but with modern media it is easy to learn about these earthquakes, which can certainly make it seem like they are happening all the time. On the other hand, back in ancient times, news would take time to travel. Still, it is remarkable to me that we really haven’t seen anything in the Chronicles on major earthquakes up to this point, similar to how it is strange that we haven’t really heard about any major volcanos. There was an earthquake back in the reign of Woasatsuma no Wakugo, aka Ingyou Tennou, and we mentioned it in Episode 56. It damaged the temporary burial of the previous sovereign, which is why it was considered of note, but otherwise it was largely just a passing mention to a natural phenomenon. It is possible that we didn’t hear about them because the Nara Basin just didn’t experience anything that sizeable, or if there was, it just didn’t make it into the records. Meanwhile, the smaller quakes may have been no less common than heavy rains, and equally predictible.
Compare that to later in the Nihon Shoki, where the 7th century would see at least 19 of 22 mentions of the word “earthquake”. While it is possible that was just a particularly active century, I tend to suspect that it meant that from this point on we probably are getting better records, and thus we will get details that might not have otherwise survived if we were just relying on the historical highlights.
In this case, it sounds as if the earthquake was particularly destructive, perhaps a level 6 or higher on the Shindo intensity scale. And, of course, it impacted the Yamato elites. We aren’t told of any deaths, but it was still a traumatic event and the court took immediate action. No, they didn’t issue emergency relief funds, and they didn’t provide labor to rebuild all the houses—or at least not that is mentioned. No, the Court had something more important it needed to do: and so orders were given to sacrifice to the “god of earthquakes.”
This does make some sense. After all, a large part of the sovereign’s portfolio was in regards to the spiritual realm. Sure, there was the administration of the state, but just about anyone could provide funding or even people to help with physical tasks. The role of the sovereign, however, was often as the intermediary between Heaven and Earth; between the kami and human beings. And so it was completely within Kashikiya Hime’s responsibilities to try and placate the spirits that had caused this disaster and to prevent future earthquakes.
Now the name of the god of earthquakes is not exactly given. It is sometimes read as “Nawi” or “Nai” no kami, but even then it is just referencing the shaking land, or “Na”. There are traditions that connect this kami to one that we’ve heard about before, Takemikazuchi.
Takemikazuchi’s name lets us know that he is a thunder deity, and it is not difficult to make a connection between the rolling thunder in the sky and the rolling waves of an earthquake. Takemikazuchi’s previous appearance in the Nihon Shoki was back in the Age of the Gods, when Takemikazuchi and Futsunushi came down to help pacify the land, and particularly the land of Izumo. Today, Takemikazuchi is worshipped at Kashima Jingu, in the old land of Hitachi, and he is, in fact connected with earthquakes.
There is an old belief that earthquakes were actually caused by giant catfish, or Namazu—and once again there is that “Na” component possibly making an appearance. These old stories said that when the Namazu thrashed about, underground, the land would shake. When this happened, Takemikazuchi found the kaname ishi, a stone at the top of the catfish’s head that poked out above ground. He struck this stone so hard that there is a divot in the rock even up to this day. That stone sits on the grounds of Kashima shrine. It may not look like much, but according to the shrine they tried to dig it out and found that it wasn’t just a rock, but it was part of a much larger stone that continued deep into the earth. Today this stone is a focus for worship to help prevent earthquakes.
Now the kaname ishi is not only found in Kashima—there is another one a short distance away at the famous Katori shrine as well, where they worship the spirit of Futsunushi. There are also Kaname Ishi found in Ohomura Shrine, in Iga, as well as another Kashima shrine in modern Miyagi prefecture. These are all central to eastern Honshu, possibly indicating a common thread amongst all of them.
I would note that I don’t know when the tradition of the kaname ishi stone, or that story about Takemikazuchi, first came about, or if that is even the original telling of the story. We do have an entry in the Shoku Nihongi, the successor history to the Nihon Shoki, where there were shrines to the—or an—“earthquake god” in all seven of the home provinces. I suspect that local deities were often consulted, and different local traditions may have held some shrines, kami, and rituals as more effective than others.
Regardless, I hope it has been an interesting diversion. I know it was something I enjoyed, having recently visited Kashima and Katori shrines and seen their Kaname Ishi in person—I’ll have photos up on the website. Do you know of other earthquake related rituals or shrines? Please hit me up online, either on Twitter—or whatever the platform is calling itself today---Facebook, or via email, at the.sengokudaimyo@gmail.com. I’d love to hear if you know of more shrines that specialize in subduing earthquakes.
Next time we’ll want to start some of our deep dives. By then I hope to have done a bit more research on some of the various topics so that we can really tie this all together.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 92: Death or Taxes, aka Don’t Piss Off Umako

August 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Clay boar, trussed up and headed to the dinner table, most likely. Originally from the 5th century, but relevant to our current narrative. Photo by author, taken at the Metropolitan Museum in New York City.

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This episode we continue wit hthe story of the late 6th century as Prince Hasebe takes the throne after the turbulent events of the previous episode, but will he stay there? Is everything really settled now that the Mononobe have been defeated?

Soga no Umako

Son of Soga no Iname. He is mentioned as Ōmi and Sukune, like his father, although when, exactly, he inherited both is not entirely clear. The Nihon Shoki claims he received the title shortly after the death of his father, in the following reign, but we’ve seen how those first appointments are always accurate reflections of history, as sometimes they mention appointments to Ōmi or Ōmuraji that clearly happened later in the reign.

Soga no Umako also tried to bring Buddhism to Japan. He found images and experts and had nuns ordained to worship at a temple, with a pagoda, which he once again had built on his family’s property. Once again, the Mononobe and Nakatomi opposed it and had the temple destroyed and the nuns punished. In the chaos of the late 6th century, Soga no Umako was the uncle to several powerful royal princes, as well as the Queen, Kashikiya Hime. This put him in a unique position during everything that would happen.

Kashikiya Hime

A royal princess, daughter of Kitashi Hime and graddaughter of Soga no Iname, she was the wife of Nunakura Futodamashiki, made his second Queen after Hiro Hime passed away, and she succeeded him. According to the Nihon Shoki, she was likely born about 553, which would have made her about 32 when Nunakura died, though another source suggests she was 34. Another record suggests she was 18 when she was made the Queen of Nunakura, although that may have just been when they got married, and not when she was formally made Queen.

She had a country home in Iware, between modern Kashihara and Sakurai, in the southeastern corner of the Nara basin.

Prince Umayado

Aka Shōtoku Taishi, also known as Prince Kamitsumiya, based on his early residence. There are many stories about this legendary figure, and it is often assumed that as Shōtoku Taishi he is more of a conflation of several individuals. Still, there may have been an actual Prince Umayado, and if we can, we will attempt to see what might be fact, and what is likely fiction, as the cult of Shōtoku would go on to become one of the largest in Buddhist Japan, with many temples claiming some connection to him. We already saw in the last episode how he was portrayed as a sage from an early age—some stories even claim that he was born with a relic of the Buddha in his hands. He will play a much larger part in our later stories.

Prince Hasebe no Miko

Hasebe (or Hatsusebe) is initially something of a background character, though there is some evidence he supported his brother in his dealings, at least initially. However, he’s now been raised up as the next sovereign so what will his reign look like?

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 92: Death or Taxes, aka Don’t Piss Off Umako.
Before we get going, a quick recap: we are still in the late 6th century, and since the death of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, things have been a bit crazy. The number of apparently legitimate heirs was rather impressive. There were the various siblings of Nunakura, both full and half-siblings, and there were his children and his siblings’ children. On top of that, there were some truly tense politics amongst some of the most powerful families in the realm, particularly the ancient Mononobe and the more recent Soga family, who had tied themselves so closely with the royal family through marriage that at this point just about every possible heir to the throne was in some way a Soga descendant. The stories of this era have been filled with stories of death, war, and struggles for the throne. Finally, there is the tension between Buddhism, which was first introduced in the early 6th century, and the established worship of the various kami, which also speaks to the tensions between various sources of spiritual political authority.
As we discussed int the last two episodes, when Nunakura passed away, Prince Anahobe tried to take the throne, and he was initially thwarted by Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe, aka Sakahe no Kimi. Anahobe, possibly with the assistance of his brother, Prince Hasebe, as well as Mononobe no Ohomuraji no Moriya, killed Sakahe no Kimi, pissing off Nunakura’s former Queen, Kashikiya Hime. Next, Nakatomi no Muraji no Katsumi, in support of Mononobe no Moriya, attempted to curse several of the candidates with stronger claims on the throne, and when that didn’t work, he just out and out killed Crown Prince Hikobito, getting offed himself in the process. Throughout all of this, another prince, Tachibana no Toyohi, apparently ascended, briefly, but seems to have died of natural causes. In the process, however, he provided legitimacy for his own children as Royal Princes and Princesses to also contest for the throne.
Moriya’s support of Anahobe led to the death of Prince Anahobe, Prince Yakabe, and Moriya and his family—and many of his supporters, as well. And yet, despite the loss of the Mononobe and Prince Anahobe, the next heir to the throne, with the approval of Queen Kashikiya Hime, was none other than Prince Hatsusebe, aka Hasebe, a full brother to the rebel Prince Anahobe and the focus of this episode. If this all seems a bit confusing regarding the individuals and different factions, then congratulations, you’ve been paying attention. The narrative certainly seems to be missing some key information, likely lost in the attempt to either whitewash some of the more contentious historical records, or simply due to the Chroniclers’ attempts to create a more straightforward narrative out of a complex era which probably saw various courts competing to be recognized as the court that was actually making the decisions—something that doesn’t exactly fit in with the attempt to tell the story of a relatively unbroken royal line.
And yet, despite the chaos, we do see a solidification of power and control in general, as evidenced by the shift in late 6th century tomb structures. As I may have mentioned in previous episodes, the Yamato area continued to build monumental round keyhole shaped tombs, but that shape of tomb simultaneously declined in nearby regions, which saw more round or square shaped—or even square keyhole shaped—tombs instead. On the other hand, at the periphery, at the farthest reaches of the archipelago, we continue to see round keyhole shaped tombs in the Yamato style.
This is all likely due to a consolidation of Yamato’s power and authority. Previously we had seen that start with the proliferation of the Yamato style tomb, but even from early times those round keyhole tombs were interspersed with other, typically smaller tombs. The general assumption, based on the size, grave goods, and other archaeological features, is that the round keyhole tomb, at least in a Yamato context, was reserved for the Yamato royal family and only those of the most elite status. In the Yamato and Kawachi regions, this seems to have held true, but further afield, local magnates adopted the round keyhole tombs for themselves, perhaps even appropriating some of the prestige of that tomb shape for themselves. Similarly, it is very likely that Yamato did not have the power to stop local rulers from building whatever the heck they wanted, despite the impression given by the Chroniclers that all was hunky-dory as soon as Mimaki Iribiko and Ikume Iribiko sent out people to subdue the four corners of the archipelago.
Whether because of an increased military might, or because of a cultural change in accepting Yamato’s leadership, more and more lands seem to have been more directly under Yamato’s sway, following their customs and accepting their position in the Yamato hierarchy. To put it another way: in many parts of the archipelago, particularly those closer to Yamato, we do not see continued claims of “kingship” by the local elite. They have accepted a lower status in the evolving hierarchy, presumably gaining some security and access to resources of the entire Yamato polity in the process, though that isn’t entirely clear to me based purely on the archaeological evidence. But according to our tomb theory, those on the periphery, where Yamato’s control remained the weakest, continued to build their own round keyhole tombs, indicating they still considered themselves somewhat independent, even as they remained influenced by Yamato’s overall cultural affectations.
Into this world, Prince Hasebe ascended the throne. Prince Hasebe was another half-brother to Nunakura Futodamashiki. Like his full brother, Prince Anahobe Hasetsukabe, he was a Soga descendant through the maternal line. We are told that his ascension was endorsed by Kashikiya Hime, his half-sister, and another Soga-descended royal. He assumed the throne almost immediately following the turmoil that resulted in Anahobe’s death and the destruction of Mononobe no Moriya. This was in 587, and for the next five years, the reign appeared to be similar to any other, but I suspect that things hadn’t quite settled, yet. How could they? It seems clear that it was way too easy for political violence to break out, and despite the Chronicles’ insistence that everything was fine, many of the systemic issues that led to the violence in the first place were still there.
To start with, you still had all of those potential heirs to the throne, and no clear succession tradition or precedence. On top of that, each household, while created to serve the Court, had grown into its own political entity, vying for their own level of power and control. No doubt some of this was exacerbated as Yamato’s influence grew, bringing more people directly under Yamato’s authority.
I also can’t help but notice that there appears to be a lack of any kind of clear justice system. In fact, laws in general at this time appear to be based on precedent and tradition, likely oral tradition: although we have writing, we don’t have a written system of laws just yet. We have artifacts with writing on them. We also have records of books coming over from the continent, which presumably people were able to read. However, what was writing being used for? It appears to have been used for communication—for example, diplomatic missions, or to send instructions and receive information back from the various lands under Yamato’s rule. David Lurie notes that this was a kind of practical writing, and it wasn’t the same as the kind of extensive journaling that we would see later.
It makes sense that much of the laws and traditions at this time were probably based on memorized precedent. Groups like the Kataribe were organized around an oral tradition, and even the Kojiki was based on a tradition of oral recitation that was still in place by the late 7th century. I suspect that different families maintained their own memories of precedence and tradition, collectively advising on what should be done in any given situation.
This isn’t exactly the kind of legal system with firm and fast rules, with everyone equal under the law, and some sort of immutable code. That wasn’t solely because it wasn’t written down, mind you—there are plenty of cultures with oral traditions that maintain very clear sets of laws. However, in this case it was not written down and given what we see and what we know about later court, legal precedent was kept in the memories of various individuals in different families, all of whom were competing for their place in the hierarchical structure that had been created. Therefore, as long as you could get enough people on your side, then you determined what was just and what was not. And of course it was the winners who wrote—or at least remembered—the history. Strong leadership may have been able to keep things stable, but during any change things could get messy, as we’ve seen time and again. And had Anahobe and the Mononobe been triumphant we’d likely be reading a very different telling of events.
Hasebe’s ascension didn’t really change any of that, other than the person at the head of the system. Still, things seemed to hold together alright, and with the recent purges, hopefully things would settle out after a while.
The reign started with the standard ceremonies. Soga no Umako was confirmed as Oho-omi, and though other “Ministers and Daibu”, or high officials, were confirmed, nobody else is named. Hasebe’s palace was set up at Kurahashi, presumably in the hills south of modern Sakurai. His wife was Koteko, daughter of Ohotomo no Nukade.
In his first year, Baekje sent envoys that included Buddhist priests and relics, along with various Buddhist artisans. We’ll probably touch on them more at a later date, but for now I’ll note that with their coming, Soga no Umako consulted with them on several matters regarding Buddhism, and then he went ahead and pulled down the house of a man named Konoha and started work on another temple. This one was known as Hokoji, though it is more popularly known to us by its common name: Asukadera.
Asukadera is perhaps the oldest purpose-built Buddhist temple commissioned by the state, and I think we can do an entire episode just on that temple alone. The Chronicles make out that it was built to commemorate the supernatural support granted to Umako in his battle against Mononobe no Moriya, though it is impossible to know for certain how much of that is true. What we can say is that this time there were no dissenting voices from the Mononobe nor the Nakatomi, and Asukadera would become one of the major temples of the Asuka period. Later, when the capital was built up at Heijo-kyo, in modern Nara, the temple was moved to the new capital, and the complex in Asuka dwindled in importance. Today you can still visit a temple at the site of Asukadera, but it is a shell of its former self, having been rebuilt on a much smaller footprint than before. You can, however, go and see the original Buddha statue—or at least the reconstructed form of it, as the original icon was severely damaged in a fire at one point.
But building up a proper temple and pagoda in the continental fashion would all take time—for now it appears that they were just breaking ground on a new construction, rather than just repurposing a part of an existing house into the temple, as they had seemingly done in the past. This was going to take some time.
At the same time, it wasn’t just buildings that were needed, and we are told that several Buddhists returned to Baekje along with the envoys. We are told that they were going to Baekje to gain further instruction in Buddhist teachings. This was the nun Zenshin, daughter of Shiba Tattou, and her companions, who had been ordained at the order of Soga no Umako to help staff his first attempt at building a worship site at his house.
The following year, in 589, we are told that there were three “inspections” that were sent out along the various circuits, or roadways, of eastern Honshu. These circuits were regions of Japan, and come from a continental tradition that would be formalized in the law codes of the early 7th century. Generally speaking there are usually 7 circuits—8 once Hokkaidou comes into the picture—and then the capital region, often known as the home territories around Yamato and the Nara basin. Kyushu and Shikoku were each covered by their own circuits: The Saikaidou, or Western Sea Circuit, covered all of Kyushu, and eventually the Ryukyu islands as well, while the Nankaidou, or Southern Sea circuit covered from the south of the Kii peninsula and the island of Shikoku. Western Honshu was covered by another two circuits—there was the San’indou, the Mountain Yin Circuit, and the San’yodou, the Mountain Yang Circuit. Yin being related to the dark and the north, the San’indou covered the areas to the north of the Western mountain range along the Japan Sea coast, from the land of Tanba west to Iwami, including the lands of Inaba and Izumo. In contrast, Yang was related to the south, and so the San’yodou covered the regions from Harima, next to the land of Settsu, part of modern Ohosaka, and stretched along the southern side of the mountains to the Seto Inland sea to the western land of Nagato, part of modern Yamaguchi Prefecture, and included the ancient land of Kibi.
Finally, there were the three circuits of Eastern Honshu, which were the subject of the Chronicles entry in 589. First off was the Tousando, or the Eastern Mountain Circuit. Whereas western Honshu can be largely divided by the mountains into a northern and southern region, eastern Honshu was a little different, as the Japanese alps created difficulties that meant that the Tousandou covered the inland regions, starting at Afumi, around lake Biwa, out to Kenu—modern Gunma and Tochigi prefectures, north of Tokyo. It would eventually include the distant regions of Dewa and Mutsu, which covered much of the Tohoku region up to Hokkaido, although those were still largely outside of the area of Yamato influence, and home to those that the Yamato court called Emishi. The man sent to inspect this region was named Afumi no Omi no Kamafu—fitting given that Afumi was at the western end of the circuit.
Next they sent Shishibito no Omi no Kari to inspect the Toukaidou, or Eastern Sea circuit. This circuit proceeded from Iga, Ise, and Owari, eastward along the Pacific coast to Hitachi, in modern Ibaraki prefecture. It includes much of modern Tokyo, and is likely one of the more well known, if only for things like the JR Tokaido line. This route became well traveled in the Edo period both for the daimyo processions of the sankin-kotai as well as the pilgrimages from Edo to Ise, and onward to points even further west.
Finally, we have a member of the Abe no Omi heading out to inspect the Hokurikudou, the Northern Land Circuit. This was largely the area known in the Chronicles as Koshi, along the Japan Sea Coast. The Abe family may have had some influence in that region, though it is said that they originally came from the land of Iga, just east of Yamato. However, we aren’t given a specific individual’s name—Abe no Omi is just the family name and their kabane rank, and could indicate any member of the Abe family. This may have to do with the actions of Abe no Hirafu in the late 7th century, but at this point in the story it is unclear. We are provided the given names of the other inspectors, however—Kamafu and Kari—so it stands out that we have nothing for the inspector of the Hokurikudou other than their family name.
Other than the mention of the circuits, and the inspections that the court was conducting, this seems to be a fairly mundane entry—though it does link to some later events. Still, it provides a little more evidence for the expansion of Yamato’s direct control. The idea that there were court inspectors checking up on these territorial circuits suggests that they were a somewhat active part of the bureaucracy of the court. Previously the court had set up the Miyake, or royal granaries, which were extensions of royal authority in various areas. Now we see an additional layer of government that would have been going through the areas and making sure that things were being administered as Yamato believed. It also suggests that there were those in these circuits who were beholden to Yamato in that they were required to produce some kind of evidence for what they were up to.
The year after, in 590, the big news was apparently the return to Japan of Zenshin and others, and we are told that they took up residence at a temple in Sakurai – very possibly a reference to Hokoji or Asukadera, the newly-founded temple we just discussed. Asuka is outside of the modern bounds of Sakurai city, but at this time the name Sakurai may have referred to a slightly larger and more nebulous area. On the other hand, they could have settled at another temple in the area that just wasn’t part of the state funded program. In that same vein, later in 590 we are told that people went up into the hills to get timber for building Buddhist temples, and many more people, most of them with connections to the mainland, and especially the Korean peninsula, were ordained. Buddhism was starting to grow more popular and it was being better patronized by the elites, and soon we will start to see more and more temples popping up.
In 591, we see the final burial of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou. This was now many years since his death, but that isn’t entirely surprising given the fighting and general turmoil that followed his death. Building a tomb mound was not exactly a simple feat, and if one wasn’t already prepared by the time he passed away, then it would have taken a while to prepare it—and even more time if much of your labor force was being split and repurposed in the fights for the throne. As you may recall, Nunakura died of a disease, so it is unlikely that there had been a lot of preparation for his death, so we can assume that his body, after resting in the palace of temporary interment for a while, was eventually given a temporary burial and then they likely were reburying the bones several years later. This isn’t exactly unheard of, but it does seem that this was an exceptionally long period between death and final burial.
The location of his tomb is said to be on the western side of the mountains, outside of the Nara Basin, in the area of modern Taishi, in the south of Ohosaka. This seems to have been a new region for royal burials, from what I can tell, but there would be several important Asuka era burials located in this region.
Later in that same year, Hasebe and the court indulged themselves in something that was becoming almost a tradition: Wondering aloud if they should go marching over to the peninsula and re-establish Nimna. There’s apparently no thought the fact that Nimna had not been a going concern for quite some time now, and this may have just been the popular casus belli of the Yamato court. Of course, all of the ministers were for it, agreeing that it would be just the best if they could go over there and get Nimna started again.
And so they set in motion the necessary work of gathering an army. This wasn’t a simple task and would take quite some time to get the word out, gather men together, and then have them all meet down in Tsukushi at the court’s outpost down there. Not only that, but there would need to be boats made, and armor and weapons would have to be ready. This was quite the undertaking. We are told that they eventually gathered over 20,000 men, though that could easily be an exaggeration.
They named five generals, or Taishogun. This is different from the “Shogun” of later years—the Sei-I Taishogun, or General for Subduing Barbarians. This is just the title of general, Taishogun, and there were apparently five people who were running things—possibly referring to five different forces that were going to go over, or it may have been a political thing to ensure that people of rank were given opportunities. It is interesting to see the names, as we have heard some of the family names, at least, before.
The five generals were: Ki no Womaro no Sukune, Kose no Omi no Hirafu, Kashiwade no Omi no Katafu, Ohotomo no Kuhi no Muraji, and Katsuraki no Wonara no Omi. Then various other Omi and Muraji level individuals were placed in charge below them. They were all stationed in Tsukushi and two men, Kishi no Kana and Kishi no Itahiko were sent to Silla and Nimna respectively, presumably to try to work something out before things got ugly.
That was all listed in the 11th month of 591, and preparations were still ongoing by the time of the next entry, in the 10th month of 592.
So remember how I mentioned at the top of the episode about how many of the systemic issues that had led to so much war and bloodshed were still a thing? Yeah—despite the seemingly rosy and downright mundane picture of the last five years, things were apparently not quite as stable as they may have appeared. And I say that because of what happened in the 10th month of 592.
We are told that this was the winter, possibly around late November or December according to our modern calendar—trying to map ancient lunar calendar dates to modern solar dates are a whole thing, trust me. Anyway, it was during this season that someone brought in a wild boar and presented it to the sovereign. And there was nothing too sus going on there—it wasn’t a white boar or some kind of unusually large animal. No, what was remarkable wasn’t the presentation at all, but what it kicked off, because apparently Hasebe looked at the boar and made an off-hand comment, which Aston translates as: “When shall those to whom We have an aversion be cut off as this wild boar’s throat has been cut.”
Just in case you didn’t get the allusion, he was basically wondering when those people whom he didn’t like would be killed—though possibly he meant cut off in another sense, I think it is pretty clear that he wanted some people taken care of, if you know what I mean.
I would liken it to a phrase attributed to King Henry II of England, who is said to have wondered aloud, “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest”, which led to several men heading out and eventually killing Thomas Becket, the then Archbishop of Canterbury. While Henry may not have actually ordered the killing of Thomas Becket, with whom he’d been in something of a power struggle, his words certainly ended up being the catalyst that led to the archbishop’s eventual demise.
Similarly here, that certainly seems to have been the intent, or at least that is how it was taken. Word of the sovereign’s outburst made it back to none other than Soga no Umako, the Oho-omi himself, who grew more than a little bit worried. It didn’t help that word was also coming that the royal household was apparently stockpiling weapons—more than usual.
Soga no Umako came to believe that Hasebe was talking about him, and though there wasn’t a particular reason given, it suggests that there were some things going on below the surface detailed by the Chronicles, and we can speculate on a few of them.
First off, Hasebe had not been the first choice for sovereign, and he didn’t really enter the picture until after the death of his brother, Prince Anahobe. Anahobe had, of course, believed that he should take the throne himself, but then he was killed. It is possible that Hasebe was appointed sovereign to appease some of Anahobe’s supporters against the wishes of those such as Soga no Umako.
Second, it is clear that Umako was immensely influential and powerful, and he probably had more influence than the sovereign himself. Always remember that if someone raises an army and helps put you on the throne, rather than themselves, they usually have the ability to do the same thing in reverse. Or, as so many parents are fond of saying: I brought you into this world, I can take you out! So it may be that Hasebe felt threatened by Umako’s own power and felt he needed to be dealt with before Soga no Umako decided that he’d rather have someone more pliable on the throne. Of course, in another time it might have been enough to just demote him, but it is unclear if Hasebe actually had the power to do that—and if he did, would it stick.
There is also another option as well—Hasebe may not have said anything at all, and it is possible that this was a story concocted to explain Umako’s own reaction. This is hinted at, somewhat, in another account that basically comes in once again with the tired “blame the woman” trope. It suggests that Ohotomo no Koteko, Hasebe’s consort and the mother to his two children, started the whole thing as a rumor. According to this account, she was “declining in favor”—although it is unclear just whom else she was competing against. If that record is correct, she was the one who told Umako about what Hasebe was purportedly saying, knowing that it would cause problems for her husband because she was unhappy with him. Even if that were true, we don’t know whether or not Hasebe actually said what is attributed to him.
Again, regardless of what Hasebe actually said, all of this suggests that things were not as solid and stable as they might otherwise appear to be, and suggests just how literally cut-throat the politics of the Yamato court could get.
And so, Soga no Umako took this threat quite seriously, and he engaged the services of one Yamato no Aya no Atahe no Koma.
We don’t know much about Koma. The Yamato no Aya were one of several Aya families, and their name suggests that they were descended, at least in part, from ethnic Han Chinese weavers—or at least traced their lineage back to the continent with claims to the Han dynasty, just as the Hata family claimed ties back to the Qin dynasty. They had been in Japan for generations, but are still often associated with various technologies that came over from the continent.
There is also a record, we are told, that says Koma’s father was Yamato no Aya no Iwai—whose name is suspiciously similar to that of the Iwai in Tsukushi, or Kyushu, who had allied with Silla and tried to block trade and military support between Yamato and Baekje. It is possible, and even probable, that this was just a coincidence—after all, why would the son of a rebel who had so aggravated Yamato be in the court at all? But it was considered significant enough for the Chroniclers to mention it at the same time, and that may be because of the relationship back to that other rebel.
Now, for Koma to take action, he and Umako would need to act quickly. Soga no Umako sent a message to the court ministers and claimed that he was sending someone to present the taxes of the Eastern provinces. As you may recall from earlier in this episode, a few years earlier inspectors had been sent out along the three eastern circuits. It would have taken them time to survey, compile their information, and collect any taxes owed, and bring that back to the court. Umako lied to the other ministers and said that the taxes were ready, and he was sending someone to the sovereign to present the taxes.
Of course, he was really sending Yamato no Aya no Koma, and in lieu of taxes he brought death—somewhat fitting if you think about it. Koma killed the sovereign and then, somehow, made his escape. Unlike some of the other killings we aren’t given too many details of the deed itself.
What we are given is the aftermath. For later in that same month, Soga no Umako had Koma himself killed. And this is where I find it really weird, or perhaps the Chroniclers were just in denial. They claimed that Soga no Umako had learned that Koma had been having a clandestine relationship with Kawakami no Iratsume, herself a consort of the sovereign and Soga no Umako’s own daughter. Koma had apparently taken her back to his place to live and made her his wife in secret—basically saying that they had carnal relations together as man and wife, though it is not clear whether or not they were consensual. Umako thought that his daughter was dead, but when he learned that Yamato no Aya no Koma had taken her, he had Koma killed.
And that just all seems so very convenient. So Soga no Umako has enough influence over Koma to get him to assassinate the sovereign, but somehow misses that his co-conspirator in this has eloped with his daughter, and then kills him out of apparently justified rage? Uh-huh. Nothing fishy about that at all.
I suspect that what happened at the time versus what was later recorded differed slightly. Assuming that most of it was accurate, I wouldn’t be surprised if Umako got Koma to do the dirty deed, and then offed him, possibly so that he would not be immediately implicated. Even so, what were the laws around such events? With Hasebe gone, and nobody else in power to challenge him, Soga no Umako was one of the most powerful people around. He just didn’t have the parental qualifications to take the throne himself.
And that is probably what saved him from being labeled a rebel, himself. After all, you don’t get much more rebellious than killing the king. But is it rebellion when it is self-defense? Here is where the lack of a strict law code likely came down on the side of Soga no Umako, because despite his involvement, nobody seems to have gone after him or taken him to task. In fact, he would remain a powerful figure in the Yamato court for years to come.
There are also several figures who seem to have remained absent from all of this, but it would be interesting to know where they came down. The first was Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi. Did he sanction or even take part in this plot? Umayado was still somewhat young, so he may not have had much to say at this point.
Then there was Kashikiya Hime, Nunakura’s queen. Presumably, she had been the one to recommend Hasebe to the throne, but we also see her hand in the decision to punish Anahobe and the Mononobe, which we discussed over the last couple of episodes. She is often kept at arms length in the narrative, however, which may be because of what the Chroniclers already knew. With the court once more in need of an heir they searched high and low, and the assembled ministers finally settled on the candidate they thought would be the best of all of them: Kashikiya Hime herself. It makes sense: Kashikiya Hime, who is known today as Suiko Tennou, clearly knew how the court operated. She had sanctioned, if not outright directed, the deaths of Anahobe and Mononobe no Moriya.
On the other hand, the patriarchal society of the day—and even that of modern day scholars—questioned her fitness for the job. Many have pointed to the strongman tactics of Soga no Umako, as well as the focus on Prince Umayado, whom she made her Crown Prince and whom, we are told, assisted in all areas of government. In fact, it often seems as though Umayado and Umako are the ones actually running things, with Kashikiya Hime as a puppet. On the other hand, perhaps there was something even more complex—a conspiracy between Umako, Umayado, and Kashikiya Hime. She may have also been something of a compromise candidate, someone that all of the different factions could get behind.
We’ll explore all of that and more as we get into her reign in the coming episodes, along with the role played by Prince Umayado. We’ll also look more in depth at the spread of Buddhism, and the temple building that would pick up shortly after Kashikiya Hime came to power.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
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And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Hirabayashi, Akihito. (2022). 蘇我氏の研究普及版. 日本古代氏族研究叢書⑤. 雄山閣. ISBN978-4-639-02863-5.
Shinokawa, Ken. (2022). 物部氏: 古代氏族の起源と盛衰. 吉川弘文館. ISBN978-4-642-05945-9.
Lurie, D. B. (17 Mar. 2020). Realms of Literacy. Leiden, The Netherlands: Harvard University Asia Center. https://doi.org/10.1163/9781684175086
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 91: Things Kick Off

August 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Museum display of a faceless mannequin in black lacquered lamellar armor with a drawn bow.. — Reconstruction of the armor and weapons of an Asuka era warrior. The bow and arrow were a primary weapon, and we find the more elite warriors appear to be in a kind of lamellar armor similar to the continent. Photo by author, taken at the Asuka Historical Museum, in Asuka, Japan

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This episode we continue to push forward as the tensions in the court grow and burst into full on physical conflict.

Before we get into the discussion of the dramatis personae in this episode, I want to talk about something mentioned in the Nihon Shoki: leather shields.

The warriors known as the samurai rarely used shields—and when they did, these tate were often more like a pavise; a self-standing shield that an archer could stand behind and shoot from.

Who’s Who - Royal Family

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

The son of Ame Kunioshi—we are told he was not a Buddhist, but he did enjoy continental literature. There is some evidence that he may have even been against Buddhism’s influence, but this is speculation. Nunakura was twice descended from previous sovereigns, meaning both his mother and father were either sovereign or the immediate offspring of a previous ruler. He died of a plague in about 585.

Hiro Hime

First queen of Nunakura Futodamashiki, and daughter of Prince Okinaga no Mate—the Okinaga line seems somewhat obscure, but the name regularly shows up in relationship to the royal family, and Okinaga no Mate had also apparently provided a daughter to Nunakura’s grandfather, Wohodo, aka Keitai Tennō, although whether that could be another Okinaga no Mate. The name “Okinaga” goes back to even before Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jingō Tennō, but certainly had some pull. Hiro Hime had a son named Hikobito no Ohine, the heir presumptive, but she died part way into Nunakura Futodamashiki’s reign, and never saw him come to power.

Hikobito no Ohine

A “traditional” heir, in that he was the son of his father and of a woman who was, herself, descended from a royal prince. It is unclear how old he was at the time of the events in the podcast, but we are told he was old enough to basically have his own household.

Tomi no Obito no Ichihi

Ichihi was an attendant at the residence of Hikobito no Ohine. He would go on to become a surprisingly pivotal figure in the upcoming conflict.

Who’s Who - Soga Family

The Soga family were based out of the Asuka region, south of Kashihara. They are mentioned earlier, but rose to prominence in the 6th century.

Soga no Iname

He achieved the position of Ōmi, the head of his house, and also used the personal honorific of “Sukune”. He married two of his daughters into the royal line, and is credited with building the first Buddhist temple at his house, even though it was later burned down and the image discarded.

Soga no Umako

Kashikiya Hime

She had a country home in Iware, between modern Kashihara and Sakurai, in the southeastern corner of the Nara basin.

She would eventually come to the throne herself as Suiko Tennō, and rule with the help of Umako and Prince Umayado

Prince Takeda no Miko

Son of Kashikiya Hime and Nunakura no Ohokimi, Takeda no Miko seems to have been on the short list for contenders to the throne early on.

Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Yōmei Tennō

Toyohi was another child of Ame Kunioshi and Kitashi Hime, and therefore a full brother to Kashikiya Hime. His reign, however, is short, and the events during his reign are chaotic, and make it seem like there isn’t actually a sovereign on the throne at all. That may be true. While it is very likely that Kashikiya Hime might have lent her full brother her political support in ascending to the throne, it also would make sense that he was only recognized by the Chroniclers because of his offspring.

He was married to his half-sister, Princess Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Himemiko, and they had several children, including Nukade Hime and Prince Umayado.

Prince Umayado

Prince Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Miko

A royal prince, he was ambitious, and wanted to assume the throne himself. Little more is said of him, and perhaps little more need be said, although he did seem to care for his family and to favor Buddhism.

Prince Yakabe no Miko

Possibly the son of Takewo Hirokunioshi, it is unclear as he isn’t listed in the genealogical accounts that I could see, and he may be yet another royal line, but our main concern is his support for Prince Anahobe no Miko.

Prince Hasebe no Miko

Hasebe (or Hatsusebe) is currently something of a background character, though there is some evidence he supported his brother in his dealings, at least initially.

Ōtomo no Hirafu no Muraj

A member of the Ōtomo family, the previously preeminent family of the court. Although their family seems to have fallen out of favor, Hirafu supported Soga no Umako and would come when asked to help.

Shiba Tattō

Who’s Who - Mononobe Family

The Mononobe trace their line back to the Heavenly Grandchild, Nigi Hayahi, as well as to numerous sovereigns. They were a “Be”, a created family, probably brought together in the 5th century, and they are one of the older families listed as a chief minister. They held the title of Muraji, which is often depicted as a rank below that of Omi, although there is plenty of evidence that these were effectively equivalent ranks, similar to how later there would be a Minister of the Left and a Minister of the Right. The head of the family was the Ōmuraji.

The traditional role of the Mononobe were as police and military enforcers for the Court.

Mononobe no Moriya

Mononobe no Moriya is depicted in the Nihon Shoki as the Ōmuraji, or head of the family, since the time of Nunakura, at least. However, there is some doubt about this, as he only as a few actual lines during Nunakura’s reign, and there is another Mononobe, Mononob no Ōichi, who may have actually beenthe Ōmuraji. However, Moriya gets all the press, good or bad, for the things that happened in the late 6th century, so the Chroniclers likely assumed that he was the Ōmuraji from much earlier.

Moriya had control of the Mononobe forces, which were not insubstantial, and helped carry out the duties of the Mononobe.

Nakatomi no Muraji no Katsumi

Katsumi is talked about largely in conjunction with Mononobe no Moriya, an apparent ally. The Nakatomi were court ritualists, so thereofere opposed Buddhism, or so we are told. Much like other things, the role of the Nakatomi may be over-emphasized due to later considerations by the Chroniclers, as one of the houses that eventually came out of the Nakatomi were the famous Fujiwara house.

Tottoribe no Yorodzu

Yorodzu was a soldier, and an expert archer, employed by Mononobe no Moriya to head up about one hundred men guarding Moriya’s Naniwa residence. He had family in Arimaka, in the Chinu district, and we know that he kept a white dog as a pet.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 91: Things Kick Off
Before we get into the episode, a shout out to our most recent supporters—Parp on Patreon, and Khonri on Ko-Fi. We really appreciate anything people can give and it helps us pay for the incidentals in hosting and keeping this going, so thank you so much. More on how you can donate at the end of this episode.
Also, quick content warning: we are talking about ancient war and violence, and that includes harm to others and self-harm. Unfortunately, the past was often a violent place.
In this episode, we are dealing with events that are happening in the late 6th century—in fact, we are dealing with a narrow, but important slice of the 6th century that is happening largely in the period after the death of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, in 585. Tensions were high, and to say that there are some scores to be settled amongst the Yamato elite is putting it lightly. The Soga family themselves were ascendant, with two branches of the royal family descended from daughters of Soga no Iname, and Soga no Umako running the family as Ohomi, one of the top court officials in Yamato.
On the outs were the Mononobe, especially Mononobe no Moriya. As we discussed last episode, Moriya had been having a fairly successful time of it. He had defended the worship of the kami against the encroaching religion of Buddhism, and he had recently taken down Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe for insulting Prince Hasetsukabe Anahobe at the Palace of Interment. But then, when Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou, asked to worship the Three Precious Things of Buddhism, himself, Moriya suddenly found himself in the minority. Moriya continued to push that same line: to avoid angering the kami by worshipping this new religion. This time, however, even Prince Anahobe was against him, bringing his half-brother a Buddhist priest so that he could pray in the Buddhist fashion.
Moriya had become a political outsider, and he retired to his home base in Ato, on the Kawachi Plain, before someone decided that he, himself, was an enemy of the state. He was egged on in this by those like Oshisakabe no Kekuso, who whispered in his ear that all of the rest of the court was against Moriya. As such, Moriya didn’t just retire—he built up an army around himself, to keep him safe should his political rivals come for him.
And it wasn’t just the Mononobe forces that came to support him—his good friend, Nakatomi no Katsumi, was there as well, bringing his own forces to help support those that Moriya had already assembled. Katsumi also brought all of the spiritual power that he apparently possessed.
Wait, what – spiritual power? Just who was Nakatomi no Katsumi, and why does he even matter for any of this? Was he really the only one who came to Moriya’s side? Or is he included because the Chroniclers knew that his family were important in the 8th century, and so they were making sure to mention Nakatomi even when they may have overlooked others? It is hard to say.
So let’s start with looking at the Nakatomi, and their relationship with the Mononobe in general.
We know that the Nakatomi were a courtly family, and they held a position as court ritualists. In later years they would be known for conducting the Ohoharae, or Great Cleansing, ritual for the court, among other things. Their name would seem to come from their courtly position—something like “Naka Tsu Omi”, or the Minister of the Middle. That said, none of the Nakatomi so far have been mentioned on the same level as the Oho-omi or the Oho-muraji. They do have the kabane of “muraji”, putting them on equal footing with the Mononobe, although that may have been picked up some time after this period, it is hard to say.
We know why the Nakatomi were so important to the Chroniclers. After all, they would go on to become a powerful court family. Later, they would go on to give birth to Nakatomi Kamatari, the progenitor of the Fujiwara family, who would go on to dominate court politics. So the Chroniclers were very invested in the Nakatomi-slash-Fujiwara story. Heck, early on, in the age of the gods, we already had figures like Ame no Koyane, the purported kami ancestor of the Nakatomi clan, who was closely involved with the Amaterasu myth cycle, particularly with the story of the Heavenly Rock Cave. That story may have been added later, of course: there are other versions in the Nihon Shoki where Koyane is not as prevalent. Also, it is possible that the ancestral connection was made at a much later date as well. Still, by the eighth century there was no real dispute about how closely the Nakatomi were tied to the court and the sovereigns.
Despite that, the current dynasty is really the first we see very much of them, as far as I can tell. There is mention of a “Naka-Omi”, earlier in the text, but the way they are described, with a separate family name, suggests that they were actually just a “Middle Minister”, possible reflecting something of the later positions of Minister of the Left, Minister of the Right, and a Minister of the Middle. Or perhaps this was the position from which the name “Nakatomi” was originally derived. It isn’t entirely clear, and there is no definitive line we can draw from that early use of the term to the present.
So, the first real appearance of the Nakatomi seems to be at this moment, in the courtly political fights over Buddhism, with the Nakatomi siding with the Mononobe against the arrival of Buddhism. Once again, this would make sense as court ritualists invested in the existing order and belief system, but also would make sense in terms of later conflicts the Nakatomi had with the Soga clan, as well. All of which leads me to wonder about just how much the Nakatomi were involved in assisting the Mononobe at all, but based purely on the narrative left to us in the Nihon Shoki, they did seem to have a significant, if somewhat minor role.
You see, as Moriya had retired and withdrawn into his familial stronghold in the Kawachi area, outside of the Nara Basin, Nakatomi no Katsumi raised forces of his own and went to support his ally. However, the aid that Katsumi offered was more than just physical: he intended to make use of his family’s role as ritual specialists, since the ability to have the kami lend aid and support apparently could work for both good or ill. And so he prepared images of Hikobito no Miko, the heir apparent, as well as Takeda no Miko, and tried to place a curse on the two of them.
And while this all feels like something out of an Onmyoji movie—something with fire, chanting, and not a few nails driven into some kind of image or effigy—the details on the ground are thin. Still, it is extremely interesting just whom Katsumi was going after, and their relationship to everything, especially given the rest of the narrative.
First, targeting Prince Takeda seems somewhat obvious. He was one of two sons of Toyomike no Kashikiya Hime and Nunakura no Ohokimi, aka Bidatsu Tennou, the last clear sovereign, based on the way succession had been seemingly working so far. With Kashikiya Hime a Soga descendant, and a niece of Soga no Umako, I can easily see why Takeda might make the hit list. It is interesting that Wohari no Miko, her other son by Nunakura, isn’t also mentioned—perhaps he had already passed away or was not considered a contender for the throne.
On the other hand Hikobito, aka Hikobito no Ohine, was the son of Nunakura and his first queen, Hirohime. That made him only the stepson of Kashikiya hime, Nunakura’s second wife. This all means that Hikobito was perhaps the last royal prince with a reasonable claim to the throne that was not actually connected by blood to the Soga family. If anything, with the Mononobe and Soga feuding, one would think that a non-Soga heir like Hikobito would actually be a good thing for Mononobe and their allies, so why was he targeted? It is possible that he was considered too close to his stepmother, given that the rest of his family had passed away. However, the most likely answer was that, as the heir apparent, he stood in the way of the Mononobe’s own personal choice to the throne—none other than Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Miko. Yes, despite the fact that he had supported his step brother’s request and brought in a Buddhist monk to pray for him, Anahobe still appears to have been quite close to the Mononobe, and as such they likely preferred someone like him to the unknown element of Hikobito, on whom the Chronicles have been relatively silent.
Unfortunately for Nakatomi no Katsumi, all of his chanting and ritual power appears to have been for naught. Apparently people don’t just drop dead because you ask the spirits nicely to take care of some troublesome priest. And so Katsumi decided there was nothing else for it—he would have to carry out the deed himself. And so he made his way to Hikobito’s residence in Mimata, and there he presumably slew the prince, once again opening the line of succession.
Katsumi’s heinous deed would not go unanswered, however. No doubt he was planning to hit the residence of Takeda no Miko, next, but he wouldn’t get that far. As he was exiting the mansion of Hikobito no Ohine, Katsumi was seen by one of the attendants, or Toneri, named Tomi no Obito no Ichihi, who drew out his own sword and slew Katsumi on the spot.
No doubt this threw things into chaos. Katsumi, a known ally of Mononobe no Moriya, had killed the Crown Prince, and appeared prepared to do more, had he not met his own end in the process. We are told that Moriya quickly sent a message by several trusted individuals to Soga no Umako, claiming that, as he still believed that people were out to get him, he was just staying out of everything for the time being. This promise rang hollow, however, and we are told that Soga no Umako sent his own messenger to Ohotomo no Hirafu no Muraji, letting him know everything that was going on, and apparently requesting the Ohotomo’s assistance. Next thing you know, Hirafu is showing up Umako’s place with a bow and arrows and a leather shield, and apparently setting up his role as one of the first Yojimbo, or bodyguard, sticking to Umako like Kevin Costner to Whitney Houston, though perhaps with slightly less romantic context—though you never know, and if there are people out there writing Asuka era political fanfic, well there you go, have fun with that.
Quick side note, just because it is a neat detail—this mention of a leather shield corresponds with some actual finds in tombs from around this era. While metal and even wooden shields have survived, the leather shields were not as durable, but archaeologists have found frames with remnants of paint indicating something similar. I’ll have some links on the podcast blog page for those who are interested.
All of this was happening, as Tachibana Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou, was getting worse and worse. Despite worshipping the Three Treasures of Buddhism, his disease continued to take its toll. Eventually, Kuratsukuri Be no Tasuna, a son of Shiba Tattou, who had helped Umako to build a temple during Nunakura’s reign, and even had his own daughter ordained as the first nun, offered to build a sixteen foot tall Buddha statue and a temple, and even to become a monk on Toyohi’s behalf. Alas, it was to no avail, and Toyohi found his life cancelled all too soon, like a space cowboy epic on Fox. The statue, though, along with its attendant Bodhisattvas, was still around in the 8th century at the temple of Sakata in Minabuchi, which was likely situated in the Asuka area at the time.
Whether or not Toyohi was actually a sovereign or if this is a polite fiction designed to further bolster the claims of his son, Prince Umayado, eventually known as the Crown Prince Shotoku , isn’t really clear – we discussed this possibility last episode – but according to the narrative we have, this meant that there was now a clear path to a vacant throne. Not only was Toyohi no longer occupying it, but Nakatomi no Katsumi had taken out the prince with perhaps the strongest claim to it of all of the remaining princes. Prince Takeda was still out there, as were the previous generation, including Anahobe and Hasebe. All of them were Soga descendants, but politics often makes strange bedfellows. Mononobe no Moriya, for all of his beef with Soga no Umako, was apparently close with prince Anahobe, and with the throne empty, Moriya seems to have decided that it would be nice to have a friendly face there.
As you may recall from last episode, Anahobe had already demonstrated himself to be ambitious. He had tried to take Kashikiyahime and make her his wife, no doubt to cement his own place as a contender to the throne. When Sakahe no Kimi resisted Anahobe’s attempts to force himself on her and on the court, Anahobe enlisted Moriya in having Sakahe no Kimi killed. Now, after the death of Toyohi, we are told that Moriya’s personal army was quote-unquote “making disturbances”, a polite euphemism likely meaning he was taking out potential rivals, although apparently not in a way that unified the rest of the court against him, probably meaning that he concocted some excuse or another for whatever happened. But he was going to need more to feel safe again, and that safety lay in getting Hasetsube Anahobe onto the throne. To do that, though, they needed to coordinate.
And so, Mononobe no Moriya crafted a secret message to Anahobe, suggesting that they go hunting together over on Awaji Island. Hunting was a common enough activity for the court nobles of this era, and Awaji island was across the water, well away from prying ears. There, Moriya and Anahobe could craft their plans to put Anahobe on the throne.
As they say, however, “Loose Lips Sink Ships”, and in this case the ship that was sunk was the one forming between Moriya and Anahobe. Word got to Soga no Umako about just what Moriya was attempting to do, and he immediately took it up with Kashikiya Hime. Word of the attempted collaboration was as good as proof, and together the Queen and her uncle commissioned three men and their forces to go and unalive prince Anahobe as well as another Prince known to be sympathetic to his cause, Yakabe no Miko.
The takedown of Anahobe reads like something that would fit in well in a Hollywood blockbuster. The three men gathered their forces and headed to Anahobe’s residence, which was apparently at least two stories tall, as they chased Anahobe through the house until they cornered him on the second story balcony. There, one of the attackers lashed out at Anahobe, catching him on the shoulder. With what I can only imagine as a Wilhelm Scream <insert Wilhelm Scream> Anahobe went over the railing and fell to the ground. As his assailants headed back to the ground floor, Anahobe dragged himself over to the outhouse and hid himself in the dark, inside. His assailants were thorough, however, and holding up their torches they were able to find Anahobe’s hiding place. And so instead of sitting on one throne, he died in another.
Either way, Moriya was now in a real pickle. If the ministers weren’t out to get him before, they definitely were, now, and his presumed royal patrons were both permanently unavailable. And so Mononobe no Moriya gathered his men to his house in Shibukawa, where they fortified themselves against outside attack.
Here we can really see the bias of the Chroniclers coming through. On the side of the pro-Soga forces, led by Kashikiya Hime and Soga no Umako, you have numerous named individuals, including five royal princes, and numerous noble families, many of which we’ve heard about previously. There were the Ki, the Kose, the Kashiwade, and the Katsuragi. Later we are told of the Kasuga, the Sakamoto, the Heguri, the Abe, and even the Ohotomo. They were all of Omi or Muraji rank. Meanwhile, on the other side were the Mononobe, defending with the men of his house—that is to say the warriors that made the Mononobe family what it was—and what the Chronicles call a “slave army”.
Of course, the Chroniclers’ own biases are likely dripping through the pages, here, based on the way things were going. Only Nakatomi Katsumi was mentioned helping Mononobe no Moriya, and after he exits the stage the Nakatomi seem mysteriously absent from the rolls on either side, especially as a later note makes reference to “men of rank” amongst Moriya’s troops. Then there is the note that the Mononobe forces were buoyed by enslaved soldiers, though for some reason I highly doubt that they were the only ones using such forces, and that may have just been a dig at Moriya and his army.
Whatever the Chroniclers thought of them, they were still quite formidable soldiers. It wasn’t for nothing that the Mononobe were the court’s goons whenever they needed a little bit of that ultraviolence enacted on someone. On top of that, they had had time to fortify their position, creating their own Inaki, or Rice Fort, from which to fight. Even Moriya himself joined in the fighting, climbing into the fork of a tree where he rained down arrows like Legolas at Helm’s Deep.
The Mononobe repulsed the pro-Soga forces at least three times, and it wasn’t looking great for Umako and his forces. In the rear of the train was the young Prince Umayado, and even he could tell that things weren’t going well.
We know that Umayado was considered particularly precocious, and the Chroniclers also tell us that he had his hair “tied up on the temples”, as was the custom for boys of about 15 to 16 years of age. At 17 it would be divided and made into tufts, a tradition that was at least present in the 8th century, and it is not uncommon to see later imagery of Prince Umayado when he was younger, with this kind of a boy’s hairstyle.
Umayado was certain that the pro-Soga forces would be beaten, and suggested that their only option was prayer. But not prayer to the kami, as might have been the case in earlier centuries. Rather, he suggested that they employ a strategy that I’ll call “Buddha take the wheel!” He found a small tree nearby and cut it down to fashion images of the four Heavenly Kings, or the Shitennou. He then placed the images in his own hair, for reasons I can’t entirely understand, and uttered a vow: If the Soga forces won the day, then Prince Umayado would erect a temple with a pagoda to give thanks for the Buddha’s assistance.
Interestingly enough, it seems that Umayado was not the only member of the Soga family who thought that they could do with a little divine assistance. Umako also made his own prayer to the “Heavenly Kings” as well as to the “Great Spirit King”, who is also identified with Daikoku. He asked for their protection and, much as Umayado had done, Umako said that if they won then he, too, would erect a temple with a pagoda in their honor. Additionally, he offered to propagate the Three Precious Things everywhere—or at least in the archipelago.
With both of these vows made, and the Heavenly figures of Buddhism properly assuaged, the pro-Soga forces once again engaged the entrenched Mononobe. This time, as they were fighting, an arrow flew out from the bow of none other than Tomi no Obito no Ichihi, the toneri who caught and slew Nakatomi no Katsumi after he killed prince Hikobito. Ichihi’s arrow knocked Mononobe no Moriya off of his branch, and Moriya and his children were soon slain.
With their leader dead, Moriya’s troops finally broke. They ran off and hid wherever they could. Men of rank who had fought for Moriya dressed themselves as though they were only servants, and they claimed that they were just out hunting on the Magari plain, in Hirose. Other children of Moriya’s relatives escaped and hid on the plains of Ashihara, where they enacted their own crude witness protection program, changing their personal names as well as their surnames. Others fled and were never found, making a clean escape.
And with that, the power of the Mononobe was broken, and it would never fully recover. Don’t get me wrong—they were still a powerful court family, and the name Mononobe continues to show up in the records, but the Nihon Shoki no longer records a Mononobe as Ohomuraji, it would seem. In fact, there doesn’t seem to be anyone made “Ohomuraji” in the Nihon Shoki after this incident. However, the Sendai Kuji Hongi does seem to indicate there were Mononobe no Ohomuraji after this point. That suggests that either “Ohomuraji” was more of just the head of any “Muraji” level family, or that perhaps that the Mononobe maintained a little more power than is otherwise thought. Either way, their influence in court was greatly diminished from their previous position.
In the aftermath of all of this, there were several things that happened. Of perhaps least significance, though still an interesting sign that the patriarchy loves to find a woman to blame, the Nihon Shoki regurgitates rumors that some people were claiming this whole episode was orchestrated by Soga no Umako’s wife, the younger sister of Mononobe no Moriya. She urged Umako into all of this, they said, claiming that Moriya’s death was unjust and unnecessary. While they very well could be correct about that latter bit—after all, there is very little hard evidence and it was the victors writing the history—blaming it all on Moriya’s younger sister seems to be stretching things. There were far too many reasons for Umako and Kashikiya Hime to be acting on their own, and no evidence that Umako’s wife was very much involved in any of it.
More significant, perhaps, was the entry saying that there was a temple built dedicated to the Four Heavenly Kings, or Shitennou, in the land of Settsu, which sat between Kawachi and Harima, and includes modern Osaka. Half of Moriya’s enslaved people, as well as all of his household were given to the temple. His own house became a farmhouse, and was also given, likely indicating that the revenues off the old Mononobe lands were now dedicated to the temple’s upkeep.
I would suppose that this is likely the famous Shintennouji, believed to have been built in 593, although there is reason to doubt the whole story. After all, this is too early for the founding of *that* Shitennouji—which we will cover at a later time. There is also the problem that this story sounds suspiciously like one from the continent. There the story happened much later—in the late 7th century, according to the Samguk Yusa—and it was Silla against the Tang dynasty. Supposedly worshipping the Four Heavenly Kings, the Shitennou, helped defend Silla against the Tang, and it may be that story was repurposed here, possibly even making it into temple records. After all, there was a lot of Silla influence in the Naniwa region, and it would be understandable if a temple like Shitennouji claimed a connection with the famous Prince Shotoku using a Silla story retold in the context of a Japanese victory. Besides, Umayado was little more than 15 or 16 at the time all of this went down, so I truly wonder at how miraculously precocious he seems to be.
There’s also the matter that there is another story there, about Soga no Umako making his Buddhist vows, and eventually building Houkoji, aka Asukadera, which seems much more plausible. Como points out, however, that later divisions seemed to form around the Baekje and Silla immigrant lineage groups, and the Soga, for the most part, appeared to be allied with the Baekje moreso than the Silla, but it was the Silla immigrant groups who later dominated—driven in part by activity on the mainland. If Como’s theory bears out, then it would be understandable for there to be a Shotoku story linked to a temple for Silla immigrants, while the Soga no Umako story might be more linked with the Baekje related immigrant families. But we can go over that in more detail, later.
Another outcome of this whole thing was that Tomi no Obito no Ichihi—the toneri that ended up killing both Nakatomi no Katsumi AND Mononobe no Moriya—was granted some 10,000 shiro of rice-land. This probably just meant that he was given a lot, as 10,000 is often just a euphemism for a metric boat-load of something, but if it was real, it might have been something like 15 million acres of land—that would be roughly the size of West Virginia. I suspect it was either an exaggeration, or else the unit of land they used wasn’t a “Shiro” per modern measurements. Indeed, it was not uncommon for ancient measurements to be slightly off from what we know them to be, today.
With Moriya dead and his lands and wealth parceled out, one might think that everything was hunky dory, but there is one more story to all of this—the story of Tottoribe no Yorodzu.
Yorodzu was a dependent of Moriya, and when everything went down, he and about 100 men were standing guard at Moriya’s residence in Naniwa. When he heard about Moriya’s death, he decided to leg it, and he hopped on a horse and rode as quickly as he good down to Arimaka, in the district of Chinu, where he then hid out in the hills. The Court immediately assumed that Yorodzu must be planning something, and accused him of having traitorous feelings. And on that assumption, they ordered Yorodzu’s entire family be put to death.
With his family in mortal danger, Yorodzu came out of the hills to face the Court appointed troops. His clothes were tattered and he had a sword, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows. If they remade this into a movie, today, he’d probably wear camouflage face paint and a red bandana. The court officials had soldiers surround him, but he was afraid, and hid from them in a thicket of bamboo. And here’s where things get really interesting.
Yorodzu knew the hills, and he had prepared for the officials. The thicket he had escaped to wasn’t just any grove. He had rigged it, tying various bamboo together so that he could shake it and make people on the outside think he was in one place or another, disguising his position. From there, he shot his arrows at the soldiers, and not a single one missed. Confused and unsure of where he was, the soldiers hesitated to approach the grove, which gave Yorodzu time to unstring his bow and run off further into the hills.
The soldiers tried to pursue, shooting their own arrows at the fleeing man, but they inevitably missed. However, some of them were rather spry, and one was even able to get ahead of Yorodzu. This Barry Allen of the Yamato Court went prone in a river bank and took careful aim, shooting at Yorodzu as he approached, wounding him in the knee.
Wounded, Yorodzu reached down and pulled out his knee-arrow, restrung his bow, and started firing again. I like to think that his first shot was to fire the knee-arrow back at Barry Allen, but that’s just my own head canon. Taking a break from his sharpshooting, Yorodzu yelled out loudly that he had been accused without examination—he had never had any kind of a trial. He would have defended the sovereign, he claimed, and devoted himself to service, but instead the court had come after him. All he wanted to know was whether or not they would take him in as a prisoner, so he could speak his piece, or were they here just to kill him.
His answer came in a hailstorm of arrows, all of which Yorodzu deflected or avoided. He then ended up killing more than thirty of his assailants with his own shots.
At last, he realized he couldn’t go on any longer. He took out his sword and he chopped up his bow so that nobody would capture it, then he bent his sword and threw it into the river. Finally, he took out his own dagger and stabbed himself in the throat, taking his own life.
This wasn’t enough for the court, however—no honorable way out for him. And so when they heard what had happened, they ordered that Yorodzu’s own body be chopped up and each piece taken to one of the eight provinces. However, as the local governor prepared to carry out this order, suddenly the heavens opened with a thunderous crack and rain started to fall. This suggested that maybe something was up. When the rain cleared, people saw the strangest thing. Apparently Yorodzu had kept a white dog with him, even in the hills. And the dog had been hanging out near Yorodzu’s corpse ever since he had died. It would look up, occasionally howling by the corpse. Finally, the dog took Yorodzu’s head and carried it to an existing kofun, where it placed the head and then stood watch at the entrance. The loyal dog lay down nearby and refused to eat, eventually starving to death in front of the tomb.
When word of this reached the court, it touched even the hardest of hearts, and so a new order was issued: They would allow Yorodzu’s family to construct a tomb and bury his remains. And so they built a tomb in the village of Arimaka and buried Yorodzu along with his loyal dog.
And with that, we can close this chapter on the conflict of the Mononobe and the Soga. It had been born out of the succession disputes, fueled by the conflicts between Buddhism and local religious practice, and eventually broke out into all out war between various factions. There was probably a lot more that just never made it into the history books, and so we may never know the full extent of it. At the same time, it was fertile ground for the Chroniclers to build up the myths around some of the most legendary figures of the day, including the famous Prince Umayado, or Shotoku Taishi. Fact and fiction intermingle, but even through all of that I think we can still see the scale of the conflict that occurred here. Next episode we can look at just who did come to the throne, and what happened next.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Hirabayashi, Akihito. (2022). 蘇我氏の研究普及版. 日本古代氏族研究叢書⑤. 雄山閣. ISBN978-4-639-02863-5.
Shinokawa, Ken. (2022). 物部氏: 古代氏族の起源と盛衰. 吉川弘文館. ISBN978-4-642-05945-9.
Dykstra, Yoshiko Kurata (tr.) (2014). Buddhist Tales of India, China, and Japan: A Complete Translation of the Konjaku Monogatarishū. Japanese section. United States: Kanji Press. ISBN-978-0-91-788008-7
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 90: Setting the Stage

July 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Ishibutai kofun, thought to be the eventual resting place of Soga no Umako. The kofun, in the Asuka region, demonstrates the large boulders that were used to create the kind of stone chamber that would house the actual coffin and any grave goods. For some reason, this kofun has lost the earthen mound piled up around it, exposing the inner “skeleton” of the kofun itself. Unfortunately, that also means that the kofun has been easily accessible, and we have no clear grave goods. The kofun is massive in size, and the stones would have required immense labor to put in place, but it seems to be of a square nature, which would go along with the idea that it was the tomb of a powerful individual, but not necessarily a member of the royal family. Photo by author.

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We are getting into some real murky waters, though in this case it isn’t that there isn’t enough information, but there is almost too much. Okay, well, there is definitely still too little about information on things we really want to know, but at this point in the story we are going to get into a lot of names and a lot of relations, so let’s try to boil it down.

First off, let’s set up some of the different alliances and family groups that we are dealing with. To begin with, we have the royal family—Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennō, and his direct descendants. In particular, Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennō, and his son, prince Hikobito no Miko.

Then there are the descendants of Soga no Iname, but even they are split into several factions.

First there is the direct Soga line, headed up by Soga no Umako.

Then there is his sister, Kitashi Hime, and her children. That includes Kashikiya Hime, who was also the wife and, eventually, queen to Nunakura Futodamashiki. And also Tachibana no Toyohi, known as Yōmei Tennō. He was married to his cousin, Hasetsukabe Anahobe, and they had a son, Prince Umayado, aka Shōtoku Taishi. One of Kashikiya Hime’s allies was Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe.

Then there is Umako and Kitashi Hime's other sister, Wonane Gimi. Besides given birth to Princess Hasetsukabe Anahobe, she also gave birth to several brothers, including Prince Hasetsukabe Anahobe and Prince Hasebe.

On top of this, there is the Mononobe faction. They were headed up by Mononobe no Moriya, and they appeared to be allies with Prince Anahobe, though that relationship wasn’t without its turmoil. Then there were their allies the Nakatomi, including Nakatomi no Katsumi.

Who’s Who - Royal Family

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Hiro Hime

Hikobito no Ohine

Who’s Who - Soga Family

The Soga family were based out of the Asuka region, south of Kashihara. They are mentioned earlier, but rose to prominence in the 6th century.

Soga no Iname

Soga no Umako

Kitashi Hime

Little is known of Kitashi Hime, other than that she was the daughter of Soga no Iname, and therefore a sister of Umako. She was married to Ame Kunioshi, and gave birth to several prominent individuals in the court, including Kashikiya Hime and Tachibana no Toyohi.

Kashikiya Hime

She had a country home in Iware, between modern Kashihara and Sakurai, in the southeastern corner of the Nara basin.

She would eventually come to the throne herself as Suiko Tennō, and rule with the help of Umako and Prince Umayado

Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Yōmei Tennō

He was married to his half-sister, Princess Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Himemiko, and they had several children, including Nukade Hime and Prince Umayado.

Nukade Hime

Princess Nukade Hime is mentioned being made the “Ise Princess”—that is the princess who was in charge of Ise Shrine. At this point that may not have been quite as prestigious a position as it would later come to be known, but it was important to the Chroniclers

Prince Umayado

Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe

Based on his kabane of “Kimi”, Sakahe was likely a local power in the Miwa region, which included, or at least bordered, Iware, the location of many of the early court figures. Sakahe is portrayed as a true and loyal servant of Nunakura and to Kashikiya Hime—which put him at odds with others, like Prince Hasetsukabe Anahobe. He may have also pissed off Soga no Umako at one point, possibly resisting the advance of Buddhism, which would make sense as Miwa and Mt. Mimoro was, at the time, one of the holiest places in Yamato, and the worship of Miwa appears to have spread throughout the archipelago.

He was also in charge of the Palace of Interment for Nunakura Futodamashiki, which would lead to some conflict with Prince Anahobe.

Wonane Gimi

Wonane Gimi is another daughter of Soga no Iname, and the younger sister to Kitashi Hime. She was also married to Ame Kunioshi, and her offspring, who were likewise grandchildren of Soga no Iname, would also play a large part in the narrative to come. We’ll only mention a few here. First there is her daughter, Princess Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Himemiko, who married her half-brother, Tachibana no Toyohi. Then there is Prince Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Miko, who was hungry for the throne. Finally, there was Prince Hasebe no Miko, who will feature more prominently in future episodes.

Princess Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Himemiko

Wife to Tachibana no Toyohi and mother to Princess Nukade as well as Prince Umayado.

Prince Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Miko

Prince Hasebe no Miko

Hasebe (or Hatsusebe) is currently something of a background character, though there is some evidence he supported his brother in his dealings, at least initially.

Who’s Who - Mononobe Family

The traditional role of the Mononobe were as police and military enforcers for the Court.

Mononobe no Moriya

Moriya had control of the Mononobe forces, which were not insubstantial, and helped carry out the duties of the Mononobe.

Nakatomi no Muraji no Katsumi

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 90: Setting the Stage
So when last we left off, the sovereign Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, had passed away, and there had been some early flirting with Buddhism, which largely ended up pitting members of the relatively new Soga family against the powerful forces of the ancient Mononobe, as well as their allies, the Nakatomi. It even got so bad that the heads of the two houses, Soga no Umako and Mononobe no Moriya, were openly mocking each other at the sovereign’s funeral. And unfortunately, things weren’t getting better any time soon.
In fact, I should probably warn you that around this point in the narrative we are really going to get all Game of Thrones on the archipelago. Family against family, sibling against sibling, with deadly political intrigue. And as we get into it, we should talk about a few things up front to help put everything in context.
So let’s come back up to speed on the situation, shall we? In the late 6th century, the royal court was in its third dynasty. The sovereign, Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, died from a plague that settled on the land. Across the straits, the once small kingdom of Silla was on the rise, having gobbled up the small polities around it, including Yamato’s apparent ally, Nimna. Now the southern peninsula was largely divided between two kingdoms, Silla and Baekje. Both were in contact with the Yamato court. And then there is the far distant northern power of Goguryeo, pressing southward themselves.
Yamato’s involvement on the peninsula meant there was quite a bit of cross-strait intercourse—in more ways than one. There were Wa on the peninsula, but there were also groups of Baekje, Silla, and Goguryeo men and women who settled in the archipelago. They brought with them various innovations and ways of thinking. One of these things was the concept of corporate “Be” families. Now, don’t get me wrong, there clearly were families in the archipelago and had been for some time, but at some point we see the literal creation of the official families, the Uji: Groups of people who shared a similar job, gathered together under a family head, who in turn was given a place in the Yamato court. The family then regulated the business of its members to the benefit of the court. These created families, usually marked with the suffix of “Be”, became an outgrowth of the court’s power, and they were in turn ranked with a collectivist title, or “kabane”. The highest ranking uji were given the titles of “Muraji” and “Omi”, and the heads of those households were known as the “Ohomuraji” and the “Ohoomi”.
One of the oldest of these families, on one side of this growing interal conflict, was known as the Mononobe. They claimed a likely fictional descent from Nigi Hayahi, a “Heavenly grandchild”, similar to the ancestor of the royal family, Ninigi no Mikoto - an illustrious backstory that no doubt helped justify their position. As for the rest, well, “Mononobe” literally translates to “the be of things” … and in this case, those things were weapons, reflecting a historical role of this important family as the enforcers and the heavyweights of the Yamato court. Of course, they weren’t the only ones with access to troops and weapons, as we’ve seen various families raising troops to go fight on the continent, and one can only assume that most powerful individuals at least had those they could call upon in case things got physical. For all that administrative power was rooted in spiritual authority, physical power was also important, and we see this in the way that armor and swords were important elite grave goods, and not just for a single family.
But few groups were so clearly tied to the exercise of martial power as were the Mononobe. And they wielded that power on the behalf of the sovereign and the State. Whether it was punishing rebels, or just executing the cruel whims of a violent and entitled ruler, the Mononobe were the ones, more often than not, knocking down your door in the middle of the night and dragging off those deemed enemies of the state.
This position was such that you can see evidence of it in the earliest parts of the Chronicles. For example, the Mononobe are connected to their ancestral shrine of Isonokami, one of the oldest shrines mentioned. It was said to be the home of the sword that Susanoo no Mikoto, the wild brother of Amaterasu, used to slay the giant, 8-headed serpent, Yamata no Orochi, generally seen as a metaphor for Yamato conquering parts of Izumo. Then there were the piles of swords made and stored at the shrine, which make it sound less like a place of spiritual worship and more like an armory—though let’s face it, for some people those are basically one and the same.
Add to that all of the times that the Mononobe were called upon to unalive some opponent to the throne, and we get a pretty clear picture of how they had for so long held a place at the very top of the court structure.
On the other side is the Soga family, currently personified with Soga no Umako at their head. While the Soga certainly traced their lineage back a respectable distance, including to Takechi no Sukune and others, at this point they are clearly relatively new, with their earliest mention coming in the reign of Wakatakiru, aka Yuryaku Tenno, in the late 5th century, about 100 years before, and they had no clear spiritual center of note, at least in the Chronicles. One source of their power and authority came through their connections with the continent, primarily with Baekje, and related families.
The other part was through their marriages, especially the daughters of Soga no Iname. Up to this point, the descendants of Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennō, had been ensuring that their queens were members of the previous dynasty. This gave them and their offspring connections back to those other lineages helping bolster their claims to an unbroken lineage and their right to rule over Yamato. While the sovereigns might marry daughters of other houses, those wouldn’t typically be named as queens, although they might be expected to raise royal princes and maybe future queens. Often these were political marriages that enhanced the court’s connections to various regions. A few particularly influential family names also appear, such as Katsuraki, Okinaga, and the Wani no Omi.
Still, the success of those families pales next to what Soga no Iname enjoyed in a single reign. Soga no Iname had achieved what few others had. He was the head of his family, one of the few of the Omi, or ministerial, kabane; and he had the personal title of Sukune, one of the highest honorifics attainable by an individual. Both of those spoke to his power at court. And when he passed away, he was succeeded in his post by his son, Soga no Umako, who was also made Ohoomi and who also held the honorific of Sukune. Moreover, and perhaps more importantly, Soga no Iname married two of his daughters (Umako’s sisters), Kitashi Hime and Wonane Gimi, to Ame Kunioshi, that is, Kimmei Tennou. Both of them had a number of sons who were also royal princes. And one of Kitashi Hime’s daughters, Kashikiya Hime, then went on to marry Ame Kunioshi’s son and successor (and her own half-brother), Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou – and when Nunakura’s own wife passed on, he elevated Kashikiya Hime to the rank of queen.
Long story short, the immediate children and grandchildren of Soga no Iname were in a great position. Soga no Umako was a powerful person at court, and brother and uncle not just to a number of the royal princes of Ame Kuniyoshi’s line, but to Nunakura’s queen as well, which gave him some powerful sway. We are also told that he had taken as his wife the younger sister of Mononobe no Moriya, likely as an attempt to bring the two families closer together. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.
All of those royal princes of Soga descent would not have been eligible for the throne under normal circumstances. But here’s where things get a little dicey. Nunakura had been the son of Ame Kunioshi and Ishi Hime, who was, herself, the daugther of former sovereign Takewo Hiro Kunioshi. Of course Takewo’s mother had come from the Owari no Muraji, a sister clan to the Mononobe, but the Nihon Shoki glosses over that by claiming Takewo was just holding the throne until his more legitimate brother was ready. Still, long story short, Nunakura was the direct descendant of at least two previous sovereigns, so one would imagine that he would be succeeded by his son, Hikobito no Ohine, son of Nunakura and his previous Queen, Hiro Hime.
And yet, Hikobito was probably relatively young, and besides Nunakura there were numerous other sons of Ame Kunioshi – conveniently, for the Soga, through his Soga descended wives. One was Kashikiya Hime’s brother, Tachibana no Toyohi, and there were also her half-brothers from her aunt, Wonane Gimi, including Princes Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Miko and Hatsusebe—or just Hasebe—no Miko. Remember that there is no such thing at this point as primogeniture—it doesn’t matter if you are the oldest son of the previous sovereign, and the throne commonly passed to brothers before it went to sons and nephews.
Finally, there is Kashikiya Hime herself, niece of Soga no Umako and newly elevated queen of Nunakura. While some women may have been content to simply raise the future generation of sovereigns, there is plenty to indicate that Kashikiya Hime was a highly political animal in her own right. On top of that, although her grandfather had passed away, her uncle, Soga no Umako, had taken his place at one of the top spots in court. She knew the ins and outs of the court, and she seems to have favored her uncle and her Soga family.
And so, when Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou, died of plague, the stage was set for a political challenge – to determine just who will be the next sovereign, and more than that, which family – and even which branch of which family – will take the reins in directing matters on the archipelago going forward.
Now, before we get much further, I have to warn you, the sources we have are clearly biased when it comes to the events they were recording. I mention this because many of the stories in this highly dynamic period and I don’t want to keep caveating everything all the time. So let me get a lot of it out of the way now, before we get into the really juicy bits. This also goes for some of the stuff in the last few episodes as well. While the Chronicles were built from records that survived into the 8th century it is clear that not every family is equally represented, and it is also clear that the Chroniclers, who knew the outcome, were massaging the narrative in certain ways. And so we get a narrative of how the Mononobe were enemies of Buddhism, attempting to stop it from spreading and trying to protect the indigenous worship of the kami. They were assisted in this by the Nakatomi, a family of court ritualists, who no doubt were also out to stop Buddhism’s progress. As for the sovereigns, Ame Kunioshi, and Nunakura, while they weren’t necessarily Buddhist, they are portrayed as essentially neutral, going back and forth between the advice of their ministers as they fought, internally.
Most of this comes from the Nihon Shoki. The Sendai Kuji Hongi gives a much more abbreviated version of the actual history, and the Kojiki is pretty much focused just on the lineages at this point. By that point, a lot had happened, and neither the Soga nor the Mononobe were necessarily running things anymore.
Michael Como, in his book, “Shotoku”, suggests that, in all probability, Ame Kunioshi and Nunakura were likewise hostile to this new religion, and I think I can see that. After all, they had to realize it was a threat to their own authority as the dedicated interpreters of the will of their ancestral kami. It may be that the positions put forth by the Mononobe and the Nakatomi were, indeed, their actual thoughts on the matter, but it isn’t as if the Mononobe just went ahead and destroyed the Soga temples—twice!—on their own. They first made sure to get an order from the sovereign, an order that may not have taken much arm twisting to issue.
Como and others also point out that there is a problem with another often overlooked aspect of the struggles as they are portrayed. The typical narrative pits the “foreign” religion of Buddhism against the “indigenous” religion of the way of the kami—what would eventually be known as Shinto, but at this point really didn’t have any particular name. The usual way of telling this story is that native religionists were simply pushing back against a foreign incursion, and even though Buddhism would thrive in the Japanese archipelago, and even come to be another tool of the state, there was a certain conflict that always remained, due in large part to the ceremonial role that the sovereign was supposed to inhabit.
The problem is that there is nothing that clearly indicates that the so-called indigenous religions were appreciably less foreign to the islands. Even the earliest stories that were recorded in the Nihon Shoki, which depicts Japan as a special place, formed by the kami themselves, there are clear connections to the continent. In some cases, like with Ame no Hiboko and Himegoso, we have deities coming over directly from the continent as princes and princesses of foreign lands. In others, like with some of the stories of Susano’o, we see the kami coming down from Heaven and first setting foot in the world on the Korean peninsula. Combined with a plethora of other clues, at the very least we can assume that the ways of the kami, including stories and rituals, were heavily influenced by continental thoughts and ideas, some of which may have arrived more than a century earlier.
On the other hand, the use of horizontal tomb chambers is a pretty clear archaeological change that we can see happening. We first saw this tomb design back in the 5th century in Kyūshū, and in the 6th century it had spread across the archipelago, becoming the dominant form. But how does that connect to continental influence on indigenous spiritual and religious practice?
I think we can generally agree that tombs, beyond the practical idea of not allowing corpses to just sit around above ground, rotting and breeding disease, were largely concerned with what we consider religious concepts about the afterlife. Sure, there is the political capital achieved by reminding everyone just who’s in charge, but it is designed around the needs of the rituals surrounding the treatment of the deceased. Hence the grave goods, as well as the clay, stone, or even wood pillars and statues erected around them. So when the burials go from relatively simple pits, dug in the top of these massive burial mounds to more complex chambers of giant stone blocks, which show evidence of people using multiple times, then we can gather that something changed in the rituals surrounding death and the afterlife. Those changes are reflected in the stories about the kami, including stories about Izanagi and Izanami, about Susano’o, and even about Amaterasu in the Heavenly Rock Cave, which all have imagery associated with this new kind of burial practice. That suggests that these stories either originated in a time when the horizontal burial chambers were prevalent, or at least they were changed and updated as ritual life also changed.
And most of these changes can be traced back to the continent. We can see evidence, there, of horizontal stone chambers, and then trace that influence as it makes its way to Kyūshū and then the rest of the archipelago.
This isn’t to say that there weren’t elements that were conceived of on the archipelago itself. Certainly local traditions evolved to meet the needs of the people, but not without outside influence. Even today, modern Shintō includes concepts from Daoism, geomancy, and general Yin-Yang theory, among other things, while retaining its own character.
The point is that the argument that the resistance to Buddhism was purely because of is foreign nature seems laughably false, and yet that has been the view reinforced within the cultural imaginary of the Japanese for centuries, and it would go on to define the separate roles of Shintō and Buddhism in relation to the State for most of that time.
As we look at what takes place, however, just keep in mind that this was much more about sheer, naked, political power, regardless of how later generations tried to make it look. Also, it is unlikely that were any clear villains or heroes, either. Real people are complex, and motivations are rarely straight forward.
And with that, let’s get back to the funeral of Nunakura. The throne was empty, except for the presence of the Queen, Kashikiya Hime, who continued to reside in the palace presumably receiving guests and whatever the Yamato version of funeral potatoes was—probably some kind of dried fish.
The succession at this point wasn’t exactly clear. Nunakura had a son, Hikobito, who was no doubt the heir presumptive, but there is nothing explicitly stating as much. Ame Kunioshi had been quite prolific, and many of Nunakura’s brothers or half brothers were still running around. In addition, though unstated in the Chronicles, Hikobito was not the son of Kashikiya Hime, and so it remains unclear just how motivated she was to help him ascend the throne.
The first to act to resolve this uncertainty was a Prince that was neither a direct sibling of Nunakura nor of Kashikiya Hime. It was Hatsusekabe Anahobe no Miko. Like Kashikiya Hime, he was a grandchild of the illustrious Soga no Iname, except that he descended through Iname’s younger daughter, Wonane Gimi.
Anahobe seemed to have clear designs on the throne. He marched straight up to the Palace of interment, and demanded entry to see his half sister. This was the location, it would seem, where Nunakura’s body was lying in state, prior to burial. However, given some of the accompanying statements, I suspect they may have been using Nunakura’s own Palace for this purpose, and his queen, Kashikiya Hime, was likewise residing there, possibly out of loyalty and expectations, but also because where else was she to go on short notice?
The steward in charge of the Palace at that time was a man by the name of Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe, also just known as Sakahe no Kimi. He was suspicious of Anahobe, and his intentions. After all, it wouldn’t take much for Anahobe to force his way in, force himself on Nunakura’s queen, claim they were married and therefore he deserved to rule. It wouldn’t be the first time that a sovereign had married the queen, out at least a consort or daughter, of the former ruler to strengthen their own claim. Kashikiya was double prized as she was born the daughter of Ame Kunioshi and the Queen of Nunakura.
Sakahe no Kimi want about to let that happen, however. We are told that he had faithfully served the royal family up to that point, and it didn’t look like he was about to just lay down now, not even for a prince of the blood.
This pissed off Anahobe to no end. He left, incensed, and started talking smack about Sakahe no Kimi to anyone who would listen. In particular, he complained to the two Great Ministers, which I can only assume to mean Soga no Umako and Mononobe no Moriya, the Ohomi and Ohomuraji of the court. He mentioned how, at the eulogy, Sakahe had said that the court of Nunakura would not be left desolate, and that he, Sakahe, would keep it pure as the surface of a mirror. Who was he to make such a bold claim to be the defender of Nunakura’s virtue, especially when there were so many total princes and the court Ministers themselves? And on top of that, he had the temerity to deny Anahobe access to the Palace of interment seven times. For such insolence, he demanded the authority to put Sakahe no Kimi to death. They both agreed, and next thing you know, prince Anahobe grabbed a bunch of troops, along with Mononobe no Moriya, the King’s Hand of the ancient Yamato Court, and put together a posse to go bring justice, in the form of a quick sword to the back of the neck, to Sakahe no Kimi.
This was not exactly a quiet affair, however, and when the assembled forces of the aggrieved princes rolled up on the home of Sakahe no Kimi, in Ikenobe, in Iware, he had already split, hightailing it up Mt. Miwa. He then climbed down in the night and made straightaway for Kashikiya Hime’s country house in Tsubaki-ichi. There he went to hide out and lay low, as Kashikiya Hime still had his back.
However, it wasn’t only the royal family that had some people with divided loyalties, and two of Sakahe’s own relatives, Shiratsutsumi and Yokoyama, decided to turn him in, apparently trying to cozy up with Anahobe, whose star appeared to be on the rise.
Knowing where Sakahe was hiding out, Anahobe and his brother, Hasebe, ordered Mononobe no Moriya to head out and treat Sakahe as though he were being played by none other than Sean Bean himself. Not only that, they were to kill his sons as well, ending his direct line. Moriya accepted this duty without hesitation, once again gathering a large force and setting out.
I would point out at this point that Sakahe was clearly a close confidant of the previous sovereign, Nunakura, and he was seeking refuge at Queen Kashikiya Hime’s summer cottage—we aren’t told if she was there, or still at the palace of interment, but either way, Moriya’s forces were moving against her property.
As Soga no Umako heard about this, he quickly came to the conclusion that going after Sakahe, and invading the Queen’s residence to do so, was one of those Really Bad Ideas. Sure, he may have initially agreed to Sakahe being punished, because there was an order to things, and no doubt Sakahe’s actions threatened that order—though it is also possible that the two “Chief Ministers” mentioned in the text were others, as nobody is specifically named, so it is possible he was just learning about this for the first time, but doubtful. Still, he was now against it. Perhaps it was the clear involvement of Kashikiya Hime, or maybe it was the thought of killing the innocent kids. Or possibly Umako had come to realize the truth—that this was simply an excuse for Anahobe to take the throne for himself.
Whatever the reason, Umako went to his nephew Anahobe and pleaded with him not to go out with Moriya. He suggested that, at the very least, it would be unseemly for him to go himself. Anahobe was determined, however, and so he headed out to meet Mononobe no Moriya and to see to Sakahe’s end, personally.
Here the Chronicles diverge, giving us two slightly different accounts. In one story, Umako tagged along, and eventually he was able to persuade Anahobe not to go himself, and Anahobe finally relented. However, shortly thereafter, Moriya returned with news that he had executed Sakahe no Kimi and the others.
In the other account, it is Anahobe himself who ended Sakahe no Kimi and his line, demonstrating that he was not afraid to get his hands dirty.
Either way, Soga no Umako realized that this was not the end of it, and that there would likely be more violence. He was clearly upset that Anahobe hadn’t listened to him to call the whole thing off, and Kashikiya Hime, well, I think we can see why she may not have been happy. The Chronicles say they both conceived enmity against Prince Anahobe, even though he was their nephew and cousin, respectively.
Now this was all happening shortly after Nunakura’s death—Nunakura died in 585, and this is all taking place between then and late 586 – and clearly it’s related to a question of succession. However, the Chronicles try to claim that there was, in fact, a sitting sovereign at that time. That honor went to none other than Kashikiya Hime’s own full brother, Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou. So given what we’ve discussed about Anahobe’s antics in trying to marry Kashikiya, what’s up with that, and where did Toyohi come from?
Why Toyohi was selected, or even how he was selected, is a bit strange. We are told that he was the fourth child of Ame Kunioshi, and as I mentioned, he was the full brother of Kashikiya Hime, making him a son of Kitashi Hime and a grandson of Soga no Iname. We are also told that he believed in the Law of the Buddha and also Revered the Way of the Kami. Finally, we are told that his capital was set in Iware—specifically at the Ikenobe no Namitsuki no Miya. If that sounds familiar, it is because Ikenobe, in Iware, was also the location of our Sean Bean stand-in, Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe’s, house as well—a strange coincidence in a tumultuous time.
Toyohi wasn’t long on the throne. During the feast of first fruits, the Niinamesai, which was performed on a riverbank in Iware, Toyohi took ill. The Niinamesai is typically observed on or about the 23rd day of the 11th month of the old lunisolar calendar, which could have been as late as December or even early January, meaning that it was likely cold, and possibly even cold and wet, especially along a riverbank. It brings to mind the story of US President William Henry Harrison, who gave his inaugural address on a cold and wet day, and ended up catching pneumonia weeks later, passing away shortly thereafter. In a similar vein, Toyohi’s illness grew worse and worse, and so he requested that he be able to give worship to the Three Precious Things, which is to say Buddhism, likely hoping that worshipping the Buddha would cure him. Obviously, Soga no Umako was in favor of this, having tried to get his own temple started in the previous reign, but both Mononobe no Moriya and Nakatomi no Katsumi both opposed it, claiming he would be turning his back on the kami of the Japanese archipelago. It was déjà vu all over again.
The tie breaker in this case came from what might seem an unusual source. It was Prince Anahobe himself who found a priest and brought him to his elder half-brother’s side. The records simply state that it was Toyohi’s “younger brother”, but a note in the Nihon Shoki explains that Prince Anahobe is assumed to be the one they mean. This is bolstered, somewhat, by the fact that Toyohi is said to have been married to *Princess* Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Himemiko. That’s right, Toyohi had married Anahobe’s sister, which may have also made them closer than even normal bonds of kinship would account for. Thus, whatever designs Anahobe had on the throne seem to have been overcome by his desire to help his half-brother, an apparently touching moment.
Unfortunately, it didn’t help. Toyohi grew worse and worse and eventually it was clear that he wasn’t going to make it. Kuratsukuri Be no Tasuna, a son of Shiba Tattou, offered to become a monk on Toyohi’s behalf and help make merit for him. Shiba Tattou had been the one to help Soga no Umako with his first attempt at setting up a temple, including having his daughter ordained as a nun, so this seems rather on brand for him. It is interesting that Tasuna is mentioned as a member of the Kuratsukuri Be, however—the guild of saddle makers. Once again, related to horses and thus back to Baekje and the continent.
Tasuna offered to make a Buddha image that was about 16 feet high, and to build a temple. The Chronicles say that this temple, along with its attendant Boddhisatvas, was still around several centuries later at the temple of Sakata in Minabuchi, which would appear to place it in the region of Asuka, the Soga family stronghold.
Toyohi’s reign was extremely short—assuming, of course, that he reigned at all. As we’ve already discussed with Anahobe’s Game of Thrones antics, it seems like things were generally still up in the air, though it is quite possible that since Toyohi was Kashikiya Hime’s full brother, she deferred to him and helped him take the throne as everything else was going on.
It is just as likely, though, that the Chroniclers needed someone to fill the space, and he fit the bill. There are a couple of things that suggest this interpretation. First off are his offspring, specifically two. One was Nukade Hime, who he made the Ise Princess, which is to say the Royal Princess, or Himemiko, who was assigned to the shrine of Amaterasu in Ise. There is some question about the actual importance of Ise at this point, but there wouldn’t be by the 8th century, and so to the Chroniclers this would have been an important point to make, even though there is some scholarly thought that Ise really wasn’t that big of a deal until around the time of the Temmu dynasty.
The other child of Tachibana no Toyohi is very important – someone we’ve touched on briefly, and I’ll probably go into a whole episode on in not too much longer: Prince Umayado. Aka the Prince of the Kamitsu Palace, or Kamitsumiya. He’s better known as Shotoku Taishi, and he holds a special place in Japan’s cultural identity about itself and Buddhism.
For anyone who hasn’t heard of Shotoku Taishi, I’ll try to break it down quickly. As I said, we need to do at least one episode on him at some point. “Shotoku Taishi” is the single individual most credited with spreading Buddhism in Japan – the most mentioned, though he wasn’t the first. The problem is that this means there are a lot of stories around him and his accomplishments, such that it is hard to pull out fact from fiction. Much like Yamato Takeru, Shotoku Taishi’s legend had already grown by the time the Nihon Shoki was being written, to the point that different temples were almost fighting over who got to write the narratives about him and whose stories were taken as factual. Think about George Washington chopping down the cherry tree and you get the picture of the kinds of cultural imaginaries that get attached to Prince Shotoku.
And so it is little wonder that this very important figure’s father, Tachibana no Toyohi, gets credited with at least a few years on the throne, whether or not he ever actually sat as the ruler. It provides even that much more legitimacy to Prince Umayado’s later accomplishments—or at least the accomplishments that were attributed to him. It also might explain why Toyohi’s own story centers so much on his belief in Buddhism as well. There is a point made of talking about the fact that Toyohi believed in Buddhism, and he is the first sovereign we have to actively seek out the worship of Buddhism. Once again, it is hard to know if he was truly sovereign—I tend to feel like this whole period was one of the periods where the court couldn’t initially get united behind a single person, and what we are seeing is more after-the-fact ascensions to boost the lineage. But the dispute over Buddhism is clearly the centerpiece here for something much greater.
But we haven’t gone full family-on-family war yet, which brings us back to Mononobe no Moriya. He was clearly not happy about the whole situation with the sovereign ignoring his advice and performing more Buddhist worship, and it didn’t help that the powerful prince Anahobe had stepped in on the side of the pro-Buddhist faction. They had just been out murdering people together, and now Anahobe turned his back on him. Moriya likely felt tossed aside.
I’ve seen some suggestion that the Mononobe house and the Soga house at this time were equals. Sure, the Nihon Shoki uses the “Omi” and “Muraji” kabane, with “Omi” having a distinctly more prominent feel, but it is possible that the two families were actually of equal rank. There’s the fact that the text at one time references “The Two Oho-omi”, which is generally taken to just mean the two “Chief Ministers”, Umako and Moriya, but which could also be seen as acknowledging that Moriya stood on equal footing with Umako. There is also a note in the Sendai Kuji Hongi that suggests that Moriya was made both Ohomuraji—that is, head of the house—and also a high Minister, or Omi. It is unclear what this means, but probably similarly placed him on equal footing with Umako. Certainly in the discussions up to this point, the Mononobe often had the favor of the court over the wishes of the Soga, especially when it came to burning down their Buddhist establishments.
Now, however, the Soga were clearly ascendant. The grandsons of Soga no Iname were Royal Princes, and that shifted the power dynamics. Even Anahobe was a Soga descendant. It is easy to see how Moriya was likely feeling isolated and even belittled by the court. Enter Iago… I mean Oshisakabe no Kekuso, who bent Moriya’s ear and convinced him that all of the other ministers were now plotting against him. More than that, they were about to ambush him and take him out of the picture altogether.
And was that so strange? Hadn’t something similar just happened with Sakahe no Kimi when the powerful people of the court found him too troublesome? Moriya himself had helped carry that out and bring it about. This was not exactly a time where one was innocent until proven guilty, and if you wanted someone out of the picture, well, it was hard for them to tell their story from inside a massive burial mound. This was a dangerous time to be on the political outs.
And so we are told that Mononobe no Moriya retired. He left the court and went to Ato, where he had his own country-house. This would have been in a Mononobe stronghold. It is often thought to have meant somewhere on the Kawachi plain, around Yao, on southeastern edge of the modern metropolis of Ohosaka, and outside of the Nara Basin. There he gathered a force of troops around him, presumably for his own protection. Allies, such as Nakatomi no Katsumi, came to his aid.
As Umako had predicted, this whole thing was not going to end well. The two most powerful ministers at court had been feuding since the death of the previous sovereign. They had broken on policy, on religion, and even on threats to the throne. And now one of them had holed up in their own stronghold and was building an army. Meanwhile you still had a bunch of princes running around, all of them possibly eligible to ascend and take the throne of Yamato for themselves. The storm clouds of war had gathered, and people were taking sides. Whatever happened, its clear that it would have momentous consequences for everyone involved—at least, if they lived to see it through.
Until next time, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Hirabayashi, Akihito. (2022). 蘇我氏の研究普及版. 日本古代氏族研究叢書⑤. 雄山閣. ISBN978-4-639-02863-5.
Shinokawa, Ken. (2022). 物部氏: 古代氏族の起源と盛衰. 吉川弘文館. ISBN978-4-642-05945-9.
Dykstra, Yoshiko Kurata (tr.) (2014). Buddhist Tales of India, China, and Japan: A Complete Translation of the Konjaku Monogatarishū. Japanese section. United States: Kanji Press. ISBN-978-0-91-788008-7
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 89: Baekje and Yamato on the Rocks

July 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

A golden animal head umbrella finial, found on Okinoshima island, and dated to the 6th century. These kinds of things were coming across the straits, and there was clearly a robust trade network, even if every mission wasn’t mentioned in the Chronicles somewhere. Photo by author, at the Munakata Taisha Shinpokan; the museum of their holy treasures, including those found on the islands at the other connected shrines.

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This episode we look at some of the other goings-on during the reign of Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto—especially as regards some of the cross-strait relations with Silla and Baekje, largely revolving around the status of the state of Nimna.

Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

The current sovereign, son of Ame Kunioshi—we are told he was not a Buddhist, but he did enjoy continental literature.

Nichira

Aka Nila or Illa (日羅), a name made up of the first character from “Nihon” (日本) and the last character of Silla (新羅). Later stories claim he was a holy Buddhist monk, although I don’t know if I’m aware of many monks at this point donning armor to visit royalty or suggesting that countries wipe out boats filled with men, women, and children.

(More as we get a chance to update)

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 89: Baekje and Yamato on the Rocks
Last episode we covered the continued rise of Buddhism. From the enigmatic Prince Ohowake, and his importation of experts and texts to found a temple in the Naniwa region, to the more well-documented case of Soga no Umako, who continued his father’s efforts to establish a temple at their home in the Asuka area, going so far as to have three women inducted as nuns—the first clergy we know of to have been ordained in the archipelago, even though it may have been less than perfectly orthodox in the manner of ceremony. We also talked about how a coalition of other court nobles, led by the Mononobe family, were undermining the Soga and accused their new-fangled religious ideas of bringing plague to the people—plague that, even though the Soga’s temple was destroyed to prevent it, nonetheless took the life of the sovereign, Nunakura Fotadamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou.
And for many, that’s probably the highlight of this reign, which was deeply involved in the spread of Buddhism, as well as providing the roots of the conflict between the old guard of the Mononobe and the newly risen Soga family. However, it isn’t as if that is all that was happening. There were continued international developments, among other things, and these were intertwined with everything else—nothing was happening in a vacuum. For example, the country of Baekje was the source of many of the early Buddhist texts and professionals, with Buddhist gifts becoming a part of the “tributary diplomacy” that is depicted in the Chronicles at this time. Whereas earlier diplomatic gifts may have included bronze mirrors, many embossed with figures such as the Queen Mother of the West, in the 6th century Buddhist icons and imagery seem to hold a similar currency.
I’d also note that giving Buddhist images and texts as gifts or tribute held an added layer of meaning, at least from a Buddhist interpretation. After all, not only were you providing prestige goods, which then helped boost the status of one’s diplomatic partners, but it also earned merit for the person gifting such things, as they were then able to make the claim that they were helping to spread the teachings of the Buddha. This provided an appeal to such gifts on multiple levels, both within and without the growing Buddhist world.
At the same time that Baekje and Yamato continued to advance their ties, Silla continued to grow. Since absorbing the states of Kara, or Gaya, including the Yamato-allied state of Nimna, Silla had grown and was consolidating its power. Silla itself had started out as a coalition of six city-state-like polities that came together in a union. They were one of the main targets of early Yamato aggressions on the Korean peninsula, with numerous discussions of raids by “Wa” sailors, though little is typically seen of the reverse. The Chronicles make the claim that early Silla was a subordinate tributary state of Yamato, which modern historians regard as little more than fiction—likely part of the propaganda campaign of the Yamato court attempting to place themselves in the superior position. Still, it does seem reasonable that prior to the 6th century Silla had remained a relatively minor state, occasionally allying with—or against—the states of Baekje and Goguryeo, as well as the other independent polities that were once present but have largely been obscured by the uncertain mists of the past. The fact that they survived as long as they did, and thus had so much written material, speaks to why they loom so much larger in the early histories, but such things are always hard to judge when all of your material basically comes from the quote-unquote “winners”, historically speaking. Just think how, if Kibi or Tsukushi, or even Izumo had become the dominant polity in Japan, our Chronicles would focus much more on what happened there rather than just covering what was happening in the Nara basin and adjacent Kawachi plain all the time.
And then there is the state of Goryeo, known to us today as Goguryeo, or Old Goreyo—in many ways the granddame of the Three Kingdoms of ancient Korea, with the greatest claim to the territory of ancient Gojoseon and Buyeo culture. Back in Episode 86 we saw a few of their attempts at diplomatic relations with Yamato landing along the Japan Sea side of Honshu—possibly a side effect of the path they were taking, sailing down along the eastern coast of the Korean peninsula, rather than via the Bohai Sea in the west. This may also have been indicative of the relatively friendly relations between Goguryeo and the expanding state of Silla.
Silla also offered up a normalization of relations, though it was met with mixed results—and even those mixed results are, well, mixed in terms of just what was really happening versus what was being projected back by Chroniclers writing a century or two later. Back in the previous reign, that of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou, Silla envoys had also been received some time after their conquest of Nimna, and the Chronicles, at least, indicate that Yamato was less than enthusiastic to receive them, indicating that tensions remained high, and Ame Kunioshi took every opportunity to admonish Silla and to request that Nimna be reestablished as an independent entity, or so we are told.
Similarly, in the 11th month of 574, Silla sent another embassy, but we have very little information on it—given the timing it may have been intended to express their condolences on the death of Ame Kunioshi and their congratulations to Nunakura for ascending to the throne. About four months later, in 575, Baekje also sent an embassy, and we are told that this one sent more “tribute” than normal, possibly as a congratulations to Nunakura and an attempt to strengthen the Baekje-Yamato alliance. There may have also been a request for more specific assistance, since Nunakura apparently took the time to remind the Imperial Princes, as well as the new Oho-omi, Soga no Umako, to remain diligent regarding the matter of Nimna. As Aston translates it, he specifically said “Be not remiss in the matter of Imna”. Yamato was still apparently displeased with the fact that Nimna, which was once an ally, was now under Silla control.
Following that, the Yamato court sent their own envoys to Baekje and then Silla—though specifically they sent the embassy to Silla controlled Nimna, according to the Chronicles. A couple of months later, Silla sent an embassy back, including more tribute than normal, though the only hint of why, beyond the previous mention of Nimna, is that Silla was including tribute for four more townships, which seems kind of a weird flex, but may have been an indication of their growth, as well as a diplomatic notification that these four areas were part of what Silla now considered their territory.
The full reasons Baekje and Silla sent more tribute than normal are unclear; it could have been part of a recognition of Nunakura’s coronation and an attempt to butter up the new administration. It is possible that both Baekje and Silla were vying for Yamato favoritism, as well. Silla may also have been trying to basically pay off Yamato and get them to forget the whole thing with Nimna—something that, as we shall see, was not going to happen quickly.
Yamato sent another mission to Baekje in 577, two years later. This was the mission of Ohowake no Miko and Woguro no Kishi to Baekje, from which Ohowake brought back various accoutrements and set up a temple in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka. We discussed this, as well as our ignorance over the actual person of Ohowake no Miko, in our last episode, episode 88. It is interesting, however, if Ohowake no Miko was the actual individual who went to Baekje—mostly we see lower ranking men; those from Kishi level families, or similar. Occasionally a “muraji” or “omi” level family sends someone, particularly at the head of a military force, but not so often do we see a prince of the blood making the dangerous journey across the seas. I have to assume that this was an important mission, and that seems to have been borne out when you consider just what was brought back. Despite all of that, the details are frustratingly vague—worse than trying to find and put together the oldest episodes of Dr. Who and the First Doctor.
We do know that the whole trip took about six months, which gives a sense of what it meant to undertake one of these journeys. Most of that would have been living at the distant court. They didn’t have phones, let alone email, so they couldn’t really send word ahead with exact details—although there may have been informal communication networks via the many fishermen who regularly worked the straits. More likely, an embassy would simply show up in a boat one day and start asking the locals to “take me to your leader”.
Once you got there, they hopefully had room for you—they might even have a special location for you and your entourage to stay while they went through the formalities. After all, someone had to get you on the schedule, and any diplomatic gifts… ahem, “tribute”… should be catalogued and written down before the meeting. That way the host country could figure out just what they were going to reciprocate with. There is also possible training in any local ceremony and customs as you couldn’t assume that foreign dignitaries necessarily know what is expected. And then there would be the translating, likely through a shared language, possibly Sinic characters if everyone is literate.
Also, during that time, the mission would probably have been hosting guests or being invited out by some of the local elites. They were both guests and curiosities. And there might have been some personal trading and bartering going on off to the side—after all, you have to pay the bills somehow, and as long as nothing eclipsed the diplomatic mission, then I suspect there were some other “trade goods” that these ambassadors brought to help barter with locals and ensure they could bring back various goods and souvenirs.
In some cases, and it is unclear if it was by choice or not, ambassadors might be invited to stay longer, even settle down with a local wife and family. There are several examples of this that we see in the Chronicles, so it wasn’t all that rare.
So that was the mission from Yamato to Baekje. The next mission from Silla came in 579, some four years later, and we are told they brought “tribute” that included a Buddhist image. And then, only a year after that we have another mission, but it was dismissed before it could ever be received.
And that is a bit odd. Why would Yamato not receive the embassy? We aren’t given a reason, and it is pretty short, all things considered. We do know the names of the envoys. Indeed, the same two envoys: Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama tried again two years later, but they were again dismissed, without accepting the tribute. This is all quite odd, but it does go to show the fickle nature of foreign relations.
One possibility may have to do with the way that “tribute diplomacy” appears to have worked. We know that in the case of the Han, Wei, and even the Tang and later dynasties, states were encouraged to come as tributaries, bringing goods as part of their diplomatic embassy, and then the receiving state was expected to provide items of even greater value in return. In the 16th century, various daimyo, or Japanese warlords, would use this to their advantage, representing themselves as legitimate emissaries in order to get the Ming dynasty court to give them even greater gifts in return. As multiple embassies showed up, all claiming to be the Japanese representatives, the Ming court started a policy of only accepting the first one that came, as they had no way to tell who was the legitimate ruler during the chaos of the Warring States period.
I bring that up because I notice that the first mission by Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama took place only 8 months or so after the one in 579, which brought the Buddhist image. Given the typical time between embassies, that seems very short, and it seems quite possible that the Yamato court didn’t believe that the embassy was real, and that it was too soon after the previous one. Or it could even have been even more mundane—it is possible the court didn’t have the stores to pay out against the tribute, though that isn’t the reason that they would have given for turning them away. After all, it was not exactly a safe journey to cross the ocean and make your way to Japan. Whether you hopped down the island chain or took a more direct route, using the island of Okinoshima as a guide post in the middle of the strait, it was not particularly easy and many embassies never made it across or back.
I suspect, however, that there was something else going on, and that is in part because it seems to be the same two individuals coming back two years later, and they were once again turned away. It is possible that Nunakura and the Yamato court had a specific beef with these two individuals, but in that case they probably would have sent word to Silla to tell them to send someone else. This probably is indicative of the growing tensions between Yamato and Silla. From a narrative sense, it would make sense for Yamato to accept envoys just after a new sovereign came to power. It would help legitimize the sovereign, and it also offers a chance to reset and reestablish the relationship. The second envoy, bringing a Buddhist image, would certainly be something that the Chroniclers would find historically interesting and would bolster their own thoughts about the rising importance of Buddhism in the period. However, as we see in an episode from 583, Nunakura was still concerned about trying to re-establish Nimna. I suspect that this may have been a condition the Yamato court placed on Silla and the envoys, and it is possible that they weren’t willing to discuss anything without at least discussing that.
Or perhaps that is at least the impression the Chroniclers wish to give. They are still referring to it as “Mimana” or “Mimana no Nihonfu”, making claims that it was the Yamato government’s outpost on the peninsula, and therefore something of a personal blow to the Yamato court for it to have been overrun. Trying to re-establish Nimna would become something of a rallying cry; think of it like “Remember the Alamo” or “Remember the Maine”; regardless of the truth behind either incident, they were both used as justifications for war at the time. The case of Mimana was used to justify Yamato actions on the peninsula, and it would continue to be brought back up until modern times, including helping to justify Japan’s invasion of Korea in the early 20th century.
Here I’ll interject with the possibility that there could also have been some internal issues that the court was dealing with. Specifically, in between these two missions by Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama, there was a bit of a disruption on the northeastern frontier, as the people known to the court as the Emishi rose up in rebellion. We aren’t given the details, but we are told that several thousand Emishi “showed hostility”. The Chronicle then claims that the sovereign simply summoned the leaders, including a chief named Ayakasu, who may have been a chief of chiefs, and then reamed them out, suggesting that he would put the leaders—i.e. Ayakasu and the other chieftains—to death. Of course, the rebellious chieftains immediately had a change of heart and pledged an oath to support Yamato.
Much more likely, I suspect, there was rising tension and hostility in the frontier regions, and Yamato likely had to raise a force to go face them. Assuming that was the case, it would have taken time to travel out there, subdue any uprising, and then drag the leaders back to the court to make of them an example to others. If that was the case, then it may have been that Yamato simply did not feel they had the time to deal with Ato Nama and his crew.
For a bit clearer reference, from the 8th through 11th years of the reign, there are simply relatively short entries. So in 579 there is the mission of ChilCheulchong Nama, who brought the Buddhist image. Then, in 580, we have Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama attempt to offer tribute. Then, in 581, there is a rebellion of the Emishi, followed, in 582, by another attempt by Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama to offer tribute. That’s about all that we have to go on.
In any case, though, we have a very clear indication in 583, only 9 months after again refusing the tribute from Ato Nama and crew, that Nimna was once again on the Court’s mind. Nunakura apparently went on a rant about how Silla had destroyed Nimna back in the days of his father, Ame Kunioshi. Nunakura claimed he wanted to continue his father’s work, but it was unclear just where to get started.
And so they decided to consult an expert. His name appears to have been something like Nichira—possibly something like Nila, depending on the pronunciation of the Sinic characters, or Illa in modern Korean, which is Aston’s preferred reading. It is said that he is the son of “Arishito” or “Arisateung”, the “Kuni no Miyatsuko”, or local ruler, of Ashikita, in the land of Hi, in Kyushu, and that he lived in Baekje, holding the rank of “Talsol”, the second official rank in the Baekje court. Ashikita was mentioned as far back as Episode 33, during the reign of Oho Tarashi Hiko, aka Keikou Tennou, as he was trying to subdue the Kumaso, and was likely a later addition to Yamato’s sphere of influence.
Nichira only makes a brief appearance here in the Nihon Shoki, but he is something of an enigma. He is presented as a citizen of Yamato, but his name appears to be from the Korean peninsula and even his father’s name hearkens back to another Arishito, who may have been the king of Kara or one of the associated polities. And yet here, this Arishito is the local ruler in Ashikita, in the land of Hi—later divided into Hizen and Higo. Given that he is referenced as “Hi no Ashikita no Kuni no Miyatsuko” this has been suggested as indicating that he was a member of the “Hi no Kimi”, the family that descended from the Lords of Hi. And this may connect to something later in the story.
There do appear to be some later documents that reference Nichira. Some claim that he was a Buddhist priest, and he’s even connected with the famous Shotoku Taishi in some stories, where he is depicted as a wise priest who recognizes Shotoku Taishi’s own Buddha nature. Of course, at this point, the prince would only have been about 10 years old, assuming the dates around his birth are at all accurate—a subject we’ll save for a later podcast, as there is just so much around Shotoku Taishi to cover.
As for the current story, however: Nichira was over in Baekje, at the court of the Baekje king, and so it wasn’t just a small matter of asking him to come to court. Ki no Kuni no Miyatsuko no Oshikatsu and Kibi no Amabe no Atahe no Hashima were sent on the dangerous mission of crossing the straits and bringing him back from Baekje. Their mission was for naught, however. Three months later they returned, empty-handed, with the unfortunate news that the king of Baekje had refused to let Nichira leave. Apparently his presence in Baekje was highly prized, and the Baekje king wasn’t willing to part with him so easily.
Yamato wasn’t deterred, however, and Nunakura sent Hashima back to Baekje. This time, Hashima went straight to Nichira’s house before any audiences at court. When he arrived, he heard a woman calling out in the local language a phrase which Aston found salty enough to throw into Latin: “Let your root enter my root!” Despite the implied sexual innuendo of such a statement, Hashima quickly understood what she meant and he followed her inside. She led him to Nichira, and there Hashima was asked to take a seat.
Nichira acknowledged that the Baekje king was not likely to let him go if he had a choice. The King was likely afraid that if Nichira went to Yamato then he’d never be allowed to return back to Baekje. Therefore, Hashima had to summon all of the authority vested in him by the sovereign of Yamato to demand Nichira’s release in no uncertain terms.
Sure enough, Hashima took the bold approach and demanded Nichira’s release, and the King of Baekje finally relented and allowed him to return. He wouldn’t go alone, however. Nichira was accompanied by other high officials from Baekje, including several men of the 3rd and 4th ranks, and a number of sailors to transport them.
They first arrived in the land of Kibi, Hashima’s own home base, and then headed on to Naniwa, where Nichira was greated by Ohotomo no Nukadeko no Muraji, likely a descendent of Ohotomo no Kanamura, the former top dog in the Yamato court. He offered Nichira condolences for the long trip he’d had to endure, and set him up in an official residence there in the port city.
Later there were daibu—high officials—who were sent to the residence to attend on Nichira.
After he’d had time to freshen up, Nichira headed off to the court. When he drew near, he donned a suit of armor and mounted a horse, and in such a fashion he rode right up to the Audience Hall of the sovereign. There he bowed before kneeling down. He then recounted how his forefathers had been sent to the Korean Peninsula up in the first place back in the reign of Senka Tennou, aka Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, in the early part of the 6th century. After explaining who he was and where he came from, he took off the armor and offered it as a gift to the sovereign himself.
Off to such a great start, the sovereign had a residence constructed for Nichira in the area of Kuwanoichi, in Ato—likely meaning an area of modern Ohosaka, near Naniwa. Later, with all of the ritual pleasantries out of the way, a war council was sent to ask Nichira just how they could move forward on the question of Nimna. This war council included Abe no Me no Omi, Mononobe no Niheko no Muraji, and Ohotomo no Nukadeko no Muraji.
Nichira provided them a plan to go to war, but it wasn’t simple nor was it quick. First he suggested that they spend the first three years building up the prosperity of Yamato, and getting all of the people behind the government. Next, he suggested building up a massive number of ships, such at that any visitors would be impressed to see them all in the harbor, and thus word would get out and it would project Yamato’s military power.
Finally, once that was done, Nichira suggested inviting the King of Baekje—or at least a royal representative in the form of a high prince or similar—be invited to Yamato, where they would see all of the power and good governance. They could then be taken to task for why Nimna had not yet been reestablished.
After the war council, Nichira sent a letter to the sovereign, Nunakura. In it he let Nunakura know that Baekje was going to send a request to relocate 300 ships worth of people to Tsukushi to settle there. Here things turned rather dark as Nichira suggested that they would see the ships filled with men, women, and children hoping to establish a Baekje colony in the archipelago. Nichira suggested setting up an ambush around Iki and Tsushima and that they should slaughter everyone. Then Yamato should build up fortifications of their own—probably as coastal defenses in case Baekje decided to retaliate.
And here I’m going to interject that this seems just really odd and strange. First, Nichira and Nunakura were talking about trying to reestablish Nimna with their ally, Baekje, and suddenly Nichira is suggesting that Baekje might try to establish a colony in their territory, and therefore it should be wiped out. That all feels very extreme, and this whole passage has puzzled commenters, especially when you consider the reputation Nichira later has as some kind of holy priest or monk.
Apparently this was the kind of advice, though, that may have been why Baekje did not want Nichira to come back in the first place. In fact, as the Baekje envoys themselves began to head out to return to Baekje, they left a couple of people in Yamato with a sinister plot of their own: as soon as the ships had sailed off and made considerable distance on the way back home, those left behind were to assassinate Nichira. In return, they were told that they would be given a higher rank and that their families would be looked after, in the very real possibility that they found out and killed themselves. A not insubstantial promise at the time.
With the official residence in Naniwa vacated after the departure of the rest of the Baekje delegation, Nichira decided to move back in, rather than staying in the home made for him in Kuwanoichi. The would-be assassins tried to approach him, and hatched plot after plot. However, they were stopped because apparently Nichira had some ancient superpowers. Indeed, his body apparently glowed brightly, like a flame of fire, and so the assassins could not get anywhere near him. They had to wait until the end of the 12th month, when Nichira’s own radiance faded, and they were then able to slay him.
This whole thing about radiance is intriguing, and may have several origins such that even if it isn’t factually accurate, it may have something more to say about just who Nichira was or might have been.
First off, there is the obvious. “Nichi”, in “Nichira”, means the “sun”, and so it could have been a direct allusion to Nichira’s name. This strikes me as also intriguing because the 12th month indicates the end of the year, usually meaning that it is darker. While the Winter Solstice would not have necessarily been in the old twelfth lunar month, those would have been the days when the suns light was least seen. Add to this that it was at the end of the month, and based on a lunar calendar, the end and beginning of the month would have been the times of the new moon, when it was not visible in the sky. And so we come to what most likely was the darkest night of the entire year.
There is also the fact that he is from Hi no Kuni—he is even considered a member of the ruling family of the land of Hi. The character of “Hi” in this instance is fire. Michaeol Como notes that the Hi no Kimi appear to have been associated with fire cults, as well as with rites of resurrection. “Hi no Kimi” could also be translated as “fire lord”. There may be some connection there with the story.
Finally, we can’t ignore the Buddhist context. Holy individuals are often said to radiate light from their bodies. For example, we have the story about Nichira meeting the young child that would be known as Shotoku Taishi, found in the Konjaku Monogatari, or “Tales of Now and Then”, a 12th century collection of various stories, many focused on Buddhist stories. In that story, Nichira radiates a light and the Shotoku radiates a light of his own in response. In fact, Buddhist images often depict holy figures with halos, or even wreathes of flames around them, likely a depiction or literal interpretation of what we find in the Buddhist texts, which may have originally been meant more metaphorically.
Oh, and notice how I talked about resurrection? Maybe you thought we’d just let that one slide. Well, apparently there was a brief zombie moment, as Nichira suddenly came back to life after he had been killed just to implicate the men from Baekje who had stayed back, and then he died again. Supposedly this is because there was a Silla envoy in port, and he didn’t want them to take the blame.
That resurrection piece, well, it isn’t the first time we’ve seen that, and it isn’t entirely uncommon to hear about something along those lines. In the Harima Fudoki there is another story of resurrection, and it involves a member of the “Hi no Kimi”, or lords of Hi. In that story, a member of the Hi no Kimi came to a center of Silla immigrants and married a young woman whom he had brought back from the dead. Another connection between the country of Hi and some of what we see attributed to Nichira.
At the same time, Saints in ancient England would occasionally rise from their deathbeds for one last piece of wisdom or to admonish someone before laying back down into that sleep of death. At the same time, it is possible that diagnosing death, versus, say, a coma or other unconscious state with very shallow breathing, wasn’t always a clear thing. In the west, as recently as at least Victorian times people were so afraid of being buried alive that there were tombstones created with bells that went to a pull down in the coffin, just in case. There have also been practices of pricking a corpse with a needle or similar to try to get a response. So I could believe that every once in a while a person who was declared deceased wasn’t quite ready to start pushing up daisies, and it is possible that this is more of a deathbed accusation than any kind of resurrection.
Still, the story clearly depicts it as a brief, but true resurrection. From his words, the court arrested the envoys who had remained behind and threw them into some kind of confinement while they figured out what to do with them. Nichira’s wife and children were moved to Kudaramura, or “Baekje Village”, in the area of Ishikawa, while the sailors who had been part of Nichira’s household were settled in nearby Ohotomo no mura. It is unclear if they were given leave to return to Baekje if they wanted, or if that was even on the table.
As for the murderers themselves, they weren’t punished by the Court. Rather the court handed them over to Nichira’s family, the Ashikita, for them to deliver justice. I believe this is the first time we’ve really seen this kind of justice in the Chronicles, with the familial groups taking such a direct role.
Now why is this story important, and what does it tell us?
Well, nominally, this says something about the continuing struggle by Yamato to reestablish Nimna, but I’m not sure how much of that is accurate. Though the story starts out about consulting Nichira about Nimna, there is nothing more to say on that topic, and it quickly becomes something that is almost more about the seemingly fragile Baekje-Yamato alliance.
There is also an interesting side note that through all of this there were apparently Silla emissaries there in Yamato, even though the Chronicle claims that the last two were sent away, so what’s up with that? It could be that the story is anachronistic—that is, it isn’t recorded in the right year. Or there was a mission that just didn’t rise to the level of being noticed by the Chroniclers. One other thought is that the formal diplomatic ties were only some of the traffic flowing back and forth. This seems the most likely, to me. By this point there was no doubt a desire for trade goods on both sides of the strait, and no matter where people came from, the merchant ships were likely plying the waters back and forth. So it is quite possible that the men of Silla who were in port were part of a trade mission, not necessarily diplomats.
Michael Como suggests some other reasons why this whole thing was considered important. He notes that there are several things here that connect this to the Abe family. It is unclear where this family comes from, but they have been mentioned here or there throughout the Chronicles, and by this point are at least are fairly high up in the court. Their name is a bit of an enigma for me, and I’ll have to do more research. I just want to note that they use a different “Be” than the Mononobe or similarly created corporate families. It is unclear to me why this would be the case, unless this is just where the two seem similar.
It should be noted that we should be careful not to assume too much about this early Abe family from one of its most famous Heian era descendants, Abe no Seimei, known as a famous Onmyoji, or master of Yin-Yang divination. I’m not entirely sure that the Abe were any more or less court ritualists than any other family, especially this early. Rather, it is their influence over certain geographic regions that is more immediately of interest.
We noted that as the son of a “Hi no Ashikita no Kuni no Miyatsuko”, Nichira was likely a member of the Hi no Kimi clan. They were originally based in southern Kyushu, and Como notes that they may have been under the sway of the Abe clan, at least by the 7th century, along with other notable families of Tsukushi, which is to say, modern Kyushu.
There are a lot of connections between Ashikita, Hi, and Silla that are telling. In the Harima story, it is a Silla wife that the Hi no Kimi marries. When Nichira resurrects, it is specifically to ensure that the Silla envoys who were present would not take the blame. Then there is his father’s name—or more likely title—of Arishito. A term seen used for the King of Nimna at one point, but also for the ancient Tsunoga, who is said to have been an ancient prince from the continent. Como suggests that Hi no Kuni—and thus their lords, the Hi no Kimi, may have played a part in the rebellion of Iwai, when Iwai attempted to ally Kyushu with Silla to break off contact between Yamato and Baekje. It is even possible that this was one of the reasons that Nichira was basically being held hostage in Baekje—perhaps he and his family had been exiled after the rebellion, or else left before any harm could come to them.
It would make some sense as to why the court sought him out in the first place. If he and his family were familiar with Silla, perhaps the court thought he would have particular insights. It might also suggest some of his motives regarding Baekje as well. Still, the picture is far from clear.
Although the Chronicle says that Nichira was taken back to Ashikita and buried, other sources suggest that he was entombed in Naniwa at Himejima, near Himegoso shrine. This, in turn, was the home of a sub-lineage of the Abe family, known as the Himegoso Abe. Como suggests that by the 7th century, the Abe were appropriating various Hi no Kimi cultic centers, to the point that by the time the Chronicles were written, the Abe no Omi and the Hi no Kimi were claiming common ancestry and jointly participating in various rites.
Como then links the timing of the death of Nichira to certain court rituals of fire pacification and purification. And so there may have been much more at play here than simply the story of Nimna and the attempts to reestablish that country.
As for the envoys who sailed off and left their lackeys to do their bidding? Apparently they were struck with a bout of karma on the way back, and their boat foundered and sank. This was likely seen as proof that their deeds had been committed with evil intent, at least by later readers, interpreting everything through a Buddhist lens that likely saw Nichira as more saintly than it seems he truly was.
After all of that, though, there is no evidence that the court really pulled it off. Instead, in 584, the year after everything had gone down with Nichira, the court sent Naniwa no Kishi no Kitahiko off to Nimna, now controlled by Silla, presumably to negotiate for some kind of reinstatement. That doesn’t appear to have happened, however, and the year after that, in 585, there was one more attempt, this time by Sakata no Mimiko no Miko. Sakata had previously been sent on a mission to request Silla reestablish Nimna in 571, only months before the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, died. Now, as he was about to set out, the sovereign and the powerful Mononobe no Moriya came down with a pestilence, and were ridden with sores, such that they called off preparations for the mission. And sure enough, later that year, Ame Kunioshi’s successor, Nunakura Futadamashiki, likewise passed away.
I guess the rule here is don’t send Sakada no Mimiko to try to demand anything about Silla.
Of course, I have to also wonder if there wasn’t something else going on. It’s suspicious that the Chroniclers recorded two missions to Silla, both led by the same guy, both about reestablishing Nimna, and both happening just before the Sovereign passed away. Maybe history really repeated itself like this, or maybe the Chroniclers just knew that such a mission was sent in the last year of one of these reigns, and then put it in bothAnd we don’t hear anything more about Mimiko after that, either.
We also don’t hear anything else about the unfortunate envoy, Sakada no Mimiko, either. The other interesting thing to note is that, like Ohowake no Miko, Mimiko is a certified royal prince, though I don’t see any immediate name to connect him with, at least in the immediate lineage. It has been suggested that this is one of the sons of Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, though even that feels tenuous to me.
Either way, both he and Nunakura, as we noted last episode, passed away from the disease sweeping the land.
And that concludes the reign of Nunakura. Next, we’ll get into what happened after his death as we start to see the Soga influence become pre-eminent. There is more to say about the growth of Buddhism and about the clash between the Soga and the Mononobe, one of the formative conflicts from this early period. And of course, we’ve already caught glimpses of Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, who had quite the impact on the court—assuming he even existed. But that’s a discussion for another episode.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Dykstra, Yoshiko Kurata (tr.) (2014). Buddhist Tales of India, China, and Japan: A Complete Translation of the Konjaku Monogatarishū. Japanese section. United States: Kanji Press. ISBN-978-0-91-788008-7
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 88: Let’s Give This Buddhism Thing Another Try

June 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Drawing by Kikuchi Yosai (1788-1878) of Mononobe no Yuge no Moriya, here shown with a mino, or straw raincoat, over his court finery. While the depiction is somewhat fanciful, it hearkens to the story in the Nihon Shoki from this reign of Moriya’s confrontation with Soga no Umako. Image is in the public domain, found on Wikimedia Commons.

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This episode we look at the continued spread of Buddhism in the archipelago.

Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

The current sovereign, son of Ame Kunioshi—we are told he was not a Buddhist, but he did enjoy continental literature.

Ōwake no Miko

An enigmatic figure—possibly one of the later sovereigns, but it isn’t clear. The name (大別王) doesn’t provide a lot of clues to go on, and yet he appears to be one of the early importers of Buddhism, bringing books and specialists. Some later sources claim that he brought over 2,000 books back from Baekje.

Soga no Umako no Sukune no Ōmi

The son of Soga no Iname, who took his father’s place at the head of the Soga clan and as the Ōmi in the court. He would push for Buddhism when nobody else would, and he was not as easily deterred as his father had been.

Mononobe no Yuge no Moriya no Ōmuraji

Son of Mononobe no Okoshi, the previous Ōmuraji of the Mononobe, the Nihon Shoki claims he was made Ōmuraji during this reign, though other sources claim it was his brother. It is likely that either way he was one of the main foils for Soga no Umako and his attempts to bring in Buddhism, and thus gets top billing in the Chronicles.

Hirohime

Nunakura’s first queen, with a royal lineage through the Okinaga family. At this time, we can see a kind of political competition between the Okinaga and Soga lineages in the royal family.

Toyomike Kashikiya Hime

A granddaughter of Soga no Iname, she would be Nunakura’s queen at the end of his reign. Her ties to the Soga family would be important as she provided some cover from the court, and later she would really take the reins for herself to help drive things forward. For now, though, it is simply an indication that the politics were leaning in favor of the Soga family.

Kurabe no Sukushi no Shiba Tattō

An immigrant from the mainland, possibly of ethnic Han extraction, though it isn’t explicitly stated. He is enlisted by Umako to help find people who can instruct others about Buddhism.

Shima, aka Shimane, aka Zenshin-ni

The nun Zenshin-ni was originally named “Shima” or “Shimane” and was the daughter of Tattō. A later note in the Nihon Shoki suggests that she was only twelve years old when she took Buddhist orders. She was later beaten and flogged for it, when she was only thirteen or fourteen years old.

Toyome, aka Zenzō-ni, and Ishime, aka Ezen-ni

Two other women who were also inducted as nuns along with Zenshin-ni. It is implied that they were subordinate, and possibly subservient, to Zenshin-ni.

Eben

The Japanese on’yomi reading of the name of a former monk from Goguryeo, living in Harima. We are not told why he was no longer a monk, but it isn’t uncommon, even today, for people in some Buddhist traditions to become a monk for only a short time, often to help make merit, but then going back to the life of a layperson. On the Korean peninsula, it seems that it was often the case that people did not always have a say in whether they would become a monk or not, as the State often had people inducted on the behalf of kings and princes, so that the latter could focus on governing rather than on merit making.

Nakatomi no Iware no Muraji

The Nakatomi family were court ritualists, and would eventually become quite powerful in their own right. It is unclear how big a role they actually played at this point. There is also mention of a Nakatomi no Muraji no Katsumi no Daibu, but it is unclear of the relationship other than they were in the same famliy. Previously it was Nakatomi no Muraji no Kamako who had sided with Mononobe no Okoshi, so clearly the families were closely aligned.

Ōmiwa no Sakahe no Kimi

The Ōmiwa family would have been from the area of Mt. Miwa, one of the oldest sacred sites in Japan, and from which the early sovereigns seem to have derived their spiritual efficacy. In fact, early on it is the rituals associated with the kami of Mt. Miwa that appear to accompany the spread of royal authority throughout the islands. As such, we can assume this was another individual invested in the way the kami were currently worhsipped.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 88: Let’s Give This Buddhism Thing Another Try.
This episode we are going to return to the story of Buddhism in the archipelago—specifically what was going on into the next reign. And what a fortuitous episode to do it on as well. For those who aren’t aware, “8” is an auspicious number in Buddhism, so I figure for episode 88, this makes for a decent topic.
Now back in Episode 86, we saw the death of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou, in 576 CE, just as a delegation of envoys arrived from Goguryeo. As we noted at the time, Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennou, succeeded him to the throne. You may recall that Nunakura was the second son of Ame Kunioshi and his Queen, Ishihime. His older brother, Yata no Tamakatsu no Ohoye appears to have been the Crown Prince, but then he passed away, and so Nunakura was raised up in his stead.
In many ways, Nunakura represents the Old Guard at this time. The Chronicles make it clear that he is a classical heir, descended through multiple royal lineages. His father, Ame Kunioshi, was of course the latest in the lineage descending from Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, while his mother, Ishihime, was the daughter of Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennou, Ame Kunioshi’s brother by another mother—quite literally. In fact, one wonders if the reason for Magari no Ohine and Takewo, aka Ankan and Senka Tennou, even being mentioned as sovereigns in the Chronicles may have been because of the way that they therefore legitimized Nunakura’s own reign, as some scholars have suggested that they really may not have ruled at all, and that really it was all Ame Kunioshi during that entire period that their reigns covered. After all, most of the sovereigns up to this point have been descended through multiple royal lineages, and even Magari no Ohine and Takewo’s reigns were depicted as though they were simply regents, holding the seat for their younger and more legitimate brother.
Nunakura held fast to the old traditions in another way, too: We are pointedly told in the Nihon Shoki that, though he was of good character, he was not a Buddhist. This is perhaps a curious statement to make—after all, none of the previous sovereigns have really been Buddhist, either—but then this is the first sovereign to take the throne since the archipelago had been exposed to Buddhist teachings, at least according to the narrative.
From our perspective today, that doesn’t seem all that strange. Buddhism had just come to the archipelago and, honestly, it hadn’t made that much of a splash from what we can tell. Back in Episode 85, Soga no Iname had set up a temple and started worshipping an image that had come from the continent, but that initial attempt was sabotaged by others, including Mononobe no Okoshi. The old families were, of course, rather invested in the system of rituals around their local kami and the socio-political power they derived from being in charge of those same rituals.
Soga no Iname had passed away towards the end of the previous reign, and his son, Umako, took up the mantle as head of the Soga family, and his father’s position as Oho-omi. Meanwhile, Mononobe no Okoshi had also passed away, and it seems that at the head of the Mononobe family as a man by the name of Yuge no Moriya, who was confirmed in his position as Ohomuraji by the new sovereign—or at least that is what the Nihon Shoki tells us, and it may be because of his prominence in the story to come. The Sendai Kuji Hongi claims that it was Moriya’s brother, Ohoichi no Mikari, who was made Ohomuraji, but there is little else. Regardless of whether it was Moriya or Mikari, the power dynamics between the Soga and Mononobe families were still in a similar to the previous reign, just in new hands.
Now, for all that the Chronicles stress how much Nunakura was not a Buddhist, neither was he particularly nativist. He enjoyed the Classics that were being imported from the mainland, and presumably was able to read in the continental fashion. He was also interested in ensuring good relations with the Korean peninsula—with both Yamato’s traditional ally of Baekje, but also with the growing kingdom of Silla. Still, Buddhism was off the table for him.
For the most part his reign started similar to any other. After coming to the throne, in 572, he confirmed his wife as Queen, with his mother being hailed as the Queen Mother. He also set up his own palace site at Ohowi in Kudara, in the land of Kawachi. Interestingly this appears to place him outside of the Nara basin—certainly outside of the lands of the Soga. However, the area that he settled in, Kudara, is interesting because that is the same reading given to the characters for “Baekje”. In fact the kanji, or Sinitic characters, that they use are the same as “Baekje”, and if you didn’t know otherwise you would likely read them as something like “Byakuzai”. However, just as many characters for the Han and Tang dynasties are read as “Kara”, likely referencing the fact that things came to the archipelago through the Kara states, the name for Baekje was rendered as “Kudara”.
And to be honest, I’ve never seen a good reason why the characters came to be read this way, or even whether or not that was the reading when the Chronicles were compiled. Certainly it was the authoritative reading later on, and there are plenty of placenames that use that reading as “Kudara”. Still, I’m not absolutely certain when that reading became common, but that is how these kanji are often pronounced, today, for whatever reason.
Now just because Nunakura wasn’t a Buddhist didn't mean that Buddhism wasn’t still making inroads into the islands. And while the Soga family would stand at the forefront of Buddhist proselytization, our first actor is actually a little different, and largely forgotten, from what I can tell. His name was Ohowake no Miko, or the royal prince Ohowake.
This name doesn't do a lot to help us identify him. He's a royal prince, meaning he had a direct claim to the royal lineage, born to one of the sovereigns or their progeny. “Oho” means “Big”, or “Elder”, and “Wake”, well, that’s a bit more complicated. Based on the way it is used in older names it would appear to be a title or honorific of some kind. Traditional Japanese etymology claims that it comes from the fact that “Wake” comes from “Wakeru”, to break, cut off, or separate. So basically they come from a line that has been “cut off” from the royal lineage, but they still have royal blood. This seems a little suspect to me, personally. I do wonder if it could be related to the term “Waka”, which also shows up a lot in names, but that is a stretch. Instead, I think it may be an old title, or kabane, for a person of not insignificant rank.
Still, it isn’t clear what is meant, and even then, this is a pretty generic name that doesn’t tell us much about who this guy actually was. One theory is that this is another name for someone mentioned elsewhere in the Chronicles, perhaps even one on the later sovereigns. People at the time that the Chronicles were written knew who it referred to, but it is much harder to piece together, today. Another suggestion is that this “Ohowake” was someone who was otherwise written out of the history for some reason—all except for here. Of course, why they were written out one could only fathom a guess. Finally, there is the thought that the name could be misspelled. Back in the time of hand copying, over thousands of copies it would be easy to slip up once or twice in the thousands of characters they had written, already. Later scribes then faithfully copied the mistake, and suddenly a new name is born. Even then, though, I’m not sure we could make a good guess as to who this really was.
What we do know is that in 577, this royal prince known only as “Ohowake” in the Chronicles went to Baekje, presumably as an ambassador for Yamato, and returned with religious books and six individuals, including monks, a nun, an architect, and a Buddhist image maker.
It is significant, that what this royal prince brought back was more than just books this time. Now, there were artisans being imported who could actually make Buddhist statues and temples here in the islands. They would have known how those temples were built, the significance of the layout, how the wooden beams were carved, and even how the distinctive rooftiles were made. And this wasn’t just different craft techniques - there were rules for how a temple was supposed to be constructed, the different buildings, even the relics to be buried underneath a building to help make it sacred. Likewise the images also followed particular rules. Whether it was the image of the Buddha, or of one of the many accompanying deities, it wasn’t enough to be a stone carver or a woodworker—Buddhist imagery was its own thing. All of this was very different from other artforms and architecture in the archipelago at the time.
It is also telling that Ohowake brought back monks and a nun. Specifically they had brought monks who specialized in various practices, including meditation and mantra recitation. You may recall that earlier the people of the archipelago had received images and texts, and it seems that Soga no Iname was trying to piece together what to do based on the texts—likely interpreting all of it through the eyes of the local religious practices of the time. An ordained monk and an ordained nun, however, would have known the proper rituals and how they were to be conducted. But almost more importantly, you needed Buddhist monks and nuns to make other Buddhist monks and nuns —although technically you typically need more than that, you should have a Sangha, a Buddhist community. While traditions vary, it would seem that you need at least four monks to make a Sangha, and some traditions require at least ten —and I presume the same or more for women. Whether or not they could authoritatively conduct all of the rites, the monk and the nun could, one assumes, teach how they were supposed to be done.
These newcomers appear to have been ensconced at a place called Ohowake-ji, or Ohowake temple, in Naniwa. Some suggest that this may be in error and that “Ohowake” was a typo for “Ohogori”, an official residence for envoys traveling to and from Japan. If this latter is true, then much like Soga no Iname had turned his house into a temple, these Buddhist teachers may have been staying at the Ohogoori-ji, and there was a scribal error of “Wake” for “Goori”. This theory also notes that the word “Ji”, or “Tera” in the kun’yomi reading, originally meant an official government building, but gradually shifted to referring to Buddhist temples as Buddhism made its way across the desert, through Yellow River and Yangzi river valleys. By the time it made it to the Korean peninsula and across the strait to the Japanese archipelago, Buddhist temples were all using the suffix “-Ji”. The problem with this theory is that we don’t really see the character “ji” or “tera” used in the government building sense in other instances from this time, and so it seems a bit of a stretch to suggest that is what is going on here. Personally, I envision that they did stand up a temple, though the actual location and design—let alone the artifacts within—have been lost to time.
Ohowake’s import of Buddhist expertise wasn’t it for Buddhism during Nunakura’s reign, however, as things continued to trickle in. In 579, for example, Silla envoys brought a Buddhist image, indicating that they, too, had taken an interest in this foreign religion, and they were using it as part of their diplomacy. This may have been a further reason to pressure Yamato to at least look into the religion and join the larger world of Buddhist countries, but it doesn’t seem to have swayed the sovereign—at least not in any obvious way.
Five years after the gift from Silla, in 584, Soga no Iname’s son and heir, Soga no Umako, decided to give this interesting new religion another go. The atmosphere by this point was a little different: still not entirely hospitable, but there had clearly been more and more interest in Buddhism since its first arrival fifty years before. In addition to the growing acceptance of this foreign religion, however, there were some key political aspects as well that may point to why Soga no Umako decided to act.
You see, Nunakura, at the start of his reign, had been married to a woman named Hirohime, who was the daughter of Okinaga no Mate no Miko. The Okinaga family doesn’t get quite as much press as others, but seems to have been relatively powerful; and let’s not forget that there was a sovereign, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou. They had not only supplied Hirohime as a daughter to the current sovereign, but their name is found in the lists of people who had produced wives of the sovereign going back for several generations. Hirohime was the queen, and no doubt one of her progeny was expected to eventually come to the throne and rule as sovereign. However, in 576, just five years into Nunakura’s reign, Hirohime passed away. This tragic event nonetheless left a bit of a political void in the form of the Queen, whose offspring would no doubt possess some serious political chops, whether or not they actually ruled.
Fortunately for the Soga, they had an answer: Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, the daughter of Amekunioshi and Kitashi Hime, which made her half-sister to Nunakura, but more than that, it made her the niece of none other than Soga no Umako, since her mother was also a child of Soga no Iname. And without spoiling too much, put a pin in her name—we will definitely be coming back to her in later episodes. It is unclear whether Kashikiya Hime was already one of Nunakura’s consorts or if she was instead promoted directly to queen, based on the way the Chronicle talks about it, but Queen she did become. We are told that she was taken up at the “urging of the court”, and probably by certain prominent figures therein, and so the Soga’s plan to marry their daughters into the royal lineage and thus use blood ties to more closely bind themselves to the central authority appears to have been working.
This also meant that as Umako tried once again to get Buddhism off the ground, he now had a supposedly friendly figure in the royal bedchamber, who could help whisper in the sovereign’s ear. So he had, presumably, a little more clout than his father had when he had tried to set up a temple.
To start things off, Soga no Umako had heard about two Buddha images in the archipelago, and he went about acquiring them. The first was a stone image of Miroku, aka Maitreya, the future Buddha who was said to come in another four to nine thousand years to remind people of the Dharma once again. This had been brought from Baekje by an immigrant known to us as Kafuka no Omi. The other was an image of the Buddha, presumably Gautama, the historical Buddha, in the possession of one Saheki no Muraji.
With these images in his possession, Soga no Umako went looking for someone with previous knowledge of Buddhist practices to assist. To do this he enlisted the help of Kurabe no Sukuri no Shiba Tattou, along with others. Tattou is traditionally thought to have come from the continent, possibly as early as 522 CE, about 63 years earlier. The Fuso Ryakki, compiled in the eleventh century, claims he came from the “Great Tang”, even though that dynasty had yet to have been established, and that he had immigrated to the country of Yamato, where he built a grass hut and installed an image of the Buddha. While this is likely a bit of exaggeration on the part of the ancient chroniclers, to make Tattou seem like the perfect Buddhist resource, it is likely that Tattou did come from the continent or was a descendant in the first or second generation, and that he had some knowledge about the religion. This made him perfect for Soga no Umako, who needed someone who knew what to look for in others who might be able to assist him in once again setting up a temple of his own.
Sure enough, Tattou found someone: a former monk from Goguryeo, named Ebin in Japan, now living in Harima, who had gone back to being a layperson. This is not as unusual as it may seem, as there are many reasons that someone might leave the monkhood, and even later return back to it. Whether or not he was currently an ordained and practicing monk, Ebin would have known the rites and how to proceed.
Here I would note that it seems a bit odd that Umako would have searched high and low throughout the immigrant community if the temple of Ohowake was still there in Naniwa. Why didn’t they just ask someone from that temple to come and get things kickstarted for them? Unfortunately, we don’t know, though it is possible that the temple of Ohowake had already failed for some reason.
And so the former monk, Ebin, was brought on board Umako’s little project, and there are some sources that suggest there was a nun as well, known as Houmei, but I didn’t notice her name in the Nihon Shoki. Ebin—and possibly Houmei—were first told to instruct none other than Tattou’s own daughter, Shima, or possibly Shimane, to become a Buddhist nun. This may have been at least in part because Tattou’s family clearly already had some familiarity with Buddhism, and there may have also been some linguistic advantages depending on the languages they knew and spoke—especially as much of what had come over was probably written in Sinic characters.
Shima was given the Buddhist name of Zenshin, or more appropriately Zenshin-ni. This was another common practice, at least in East Asia, where new initiates would take a Buddhist—or more appropriately a Dharma—name when they were ordained. We’ll see this a lot, and you have no doubt encountered such names elsewhere. They are typically made up of two kanji, or Sinitic characters, and pronounced with the On’yomi reading. The name is often given by a teacher and emphasizes some Buddhist virtue or teaching that is considered particularly apt. In this case “Zenshin” would appear to mean something like “Auspicious Belief”.
Two other women were taken on as students—or possibly as servants, or just junior nuns—along with Zenshin. They were Toyome, daughter of Ayabito no Hoshi, who became Zenzou, which would seem to indicate “Meditative Storehouse”; and Ishime, daughter of Nishigori no Tsubo, who became Ezen, or something like “Blessed Fortune”.
With three nuns, Soga no Umako built a Buddhist Temple onto the east side of his home where he enshrined the stone image of Miroku, or Maitreya, the future Buddha, and he had the three newly minted nuns worship there while Shiba Tattou and Hida no Atahe provided them support and sustenance.
Although they were ordained and worshipping a Buddhist image, it is interesting that Umako chose women to become nuns, rather than monks. There is some thought that, for all of the Buddhist instruction, Umako was still following a popular indigenous model of worship, where the three women were essentially acting in place of female shamans, a tradition that would appear to have been common on the archipelago all the way back to Queen Himiko, and hinted at in various places within the Chronicles, including the very stories of the kami themselves. One also questions just how much the women knew regarding Buddhist practice, despite having a teacher who was formerly a monk. There are some suggestions that the women themselves were rather young, with one note claiming that Zenshin was only twelve years old when she was ordained—hardly an age where one expects her to be leading, let alone teaching, about a foreign religion from another country.
Furthermore, the terms used surrounding the nuns’ “worship” also leads one to wonder. The word used is “sai” or “matsuri”, which is sometimes translated as “maigre faire”, or abstinence, but here likely refers to some kind of meal or feast. This was possibly a Buddhist vegetarian feast, though the idea of a feast as worship seems to dovetail nicely once again into the local practices surrounding kami worship as well.
From this first meal, Tattou supposedly found a “relic”, by which would seem to be meant a relic of the Buddha. Now what a relic of the Buddha was doing in the Japanese islands, so far away from the Indian subcontinent, might seem to be a pertinent question, but that is where you would be wrong. You see, according to some traditions, the body of the Buddha had transformed through miraculous processes into hard crystal or glass stones, which themselves had made their way across the world. This was fortunate for Buddhists, who therefore didn’t need to send away for fresh relics from India every time they needed to found a new temple, they just had to find appropriate relics where they were.
To test the relics—we aren’t given much more of a description of what they were—Soga no Umako took a giant iron maul and brought that hammer down on the relic Tattou had found. However, rather than the relic shattering, the iron maul broke, instead, along with the block of iron they had put underneath of it. After testing its strength, the relic was placed in water, where it would float or sink depending on what was desired. These supposedly proved that the relic was holy, and so it was used to inaugurate a new pagoda. The pagoda was built on top of the Hill of Ohono, or large field, and we are told that they had the nuns conduct another ritual feast prior to placing the relic in the top of the pagoda, recalling the purpose of the pagoda as the replacement for the stupa, the repository for relics of the Buddha at a temple complex.
In the background of all of this, Yamato was apparently experiencing their own epidemic. We are told that pestilence was in the land, and Soga no Umako himself became ill. Trying to ascertain the cause of his own illness, Umako enlisted a diviner, who told him that the pestilence was a curse sent by the Buddha worshipped by Soga no Umako’s father, Soga no Iname. Once again we see the Buddha being treated more like a kami. After all, why would the one who came to save all sentient beings curse someone? And yet they did seem to believe that this curse was due to the way that the previous temple that Iname had set up had been torn down and the image tossed, unceremoniously, into the Yodo river.
And since the cause of the pestilence had been determined by a diviner, apparently that was enough to get Nunakura on board. Whether or not he personally worshipped the Buddha, he allowed Umako to worship the image so that he could appease his father’s gods and hopefully recover.
Shortly thereafter—less than a week later, if the dates are to be believed—we start to really get a sense of déjà vu, as Mononobe no Yugehi no Moriya, son of Mononobe no Okoshi and the current Ohomuraji of the Mononobe family, remonstrated Nunakura over this whole Buddhism thing. Just as Okoshi had done decades previously, Moriya claimed that the whole reason that there was an epidemic in the first place was because they had once again welcomed Buddhism into the land, and that they needed to put a stop to it. Nunakura was swayed by his arguments, and he took back what he had said and issued an edict that demanded that the worship of Buddhism cease.
Here we see, once again, the destruction of the Buddhist temple, but this time around we are given much greater detail. For one thing, Moirya seems to have taken rather a lot of pride in this. He went to the temple with his men, sat down in a chair, and from there he oversaw the destruction of the pagoda, the temple, and even the stone image. Whatever couldn’t be destroyed was taken to the Naniwa canal and thrown into the waters.
As he did all of this, the Chroniclers record that there was wind and rain, but no clouds, not quite unlike the idea of a fox’s wedding—an interesting phenomenon where you can have the sun, usually in the morning or late afternoon, shining at the same time that rainclouds overhead are opening up the heavens are pouring down.
Moriya simply donned a raincoat, and then he upbraided Soga no Umako and all of his followers, trying to shame them. He then had Sukune call forward the various nuns, who were stripped of their “three garments”, a term for the traditional Buddhist robes, although in East Asia this was eventually replaced with the single kesa over several lower garments, to help fend off the cold. Here it is unclear if just a kesa is meant, or if they were dressed in an attempt at clothing from the Indian continent. The nuns were then imprisoned and flogged at the roadside station of Tsubaki no Ichi, otherwise known as the Tsubaki Market.
Despite thus cleansing the land of Buddhist influence for the second time, the pestilence didn’t stop, and people continued to grow ill and die. In fact, there was an embassy planned to talk about the Nimna situation once again, but both the sovereign, Nunakura, as well as Mononobe no Moriya himself, became ill and were afflicted with sores. Once again, the land was plagued and people were dying.
According to the Chroniclers, who were, of course, writing after the fact in a well-established Buddhist state, the people started to privately complain that clearly Buddhism hadn’t been the problem. In fact, perhaps Soga no Umako’s diviner had been correct all along and the plague was actually because they *hadn’t* accepted Buddhism, rather than a punishment for neglecting the local kami.
A few months later, Soga no Umako sent another message to the sovereign. He was still ill, and hadn’t recovered, even with Moriya “purging” the influences of Buddhism. Umako claimed that the only things that would cure him were the Three Precious Things, which is to say the Sanzou, or the Three Treasures of Buddhism: The Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. Based on the severity of the disease, Nunakura authorized him to worship privately, and the nuns were allowed to assist him. He rebuilt the temple and he provided for the nuns, himself. Eventually, Umako recovered, but unfortunately, the sovereign did not. Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, died in 585, laid low by the plague that had swept through the land.
At the funeral, the politics were on full display. Soga no Umako had no love lost for Mononobe no Moriya, nor vice versa. As Umako was delivering a speech, Moriya made a comment that with his extremely long sword at his side, Umako looked like a fat little sparrow that had been pierced through by a hunting shaft. Meanwhile, Umako noted that Moriya was shaking as he gave his speech—whether from emotion, nerves, or something else we don’t know—and so Umako suggested hanging bells on him, so that they would jingle as he shook. From this rap battle on out, the feud between the Mononobe and the Soga would only grow.
There is another account of all of this, buried amongst everything else, that claims that Mononobe no Moriya, Ohomiwa no Sakahe no Kimi, and Nakatomi no Iware no Muraji all conspired together to destroy the Buddhist religion. They wanted to burn the temple and pagoda that Soga no Umako had built, but Umako opposed the project and would not allow it, or so we are told. Here it is unclear if we are talking about the previous temple or the rebuilt one, but the names here are interesting. Of course we know that the Soga and the Mononobe were going at it, and the inclusion of Nakatomi no Iware simply picks up the previous alliance between the Mononobe and Nakatomi, both of whom had been active during the assault on Soga Iname’s temple. Lastly, though, there is Ohomiwa no Sakahe no Kimi, which is interesting. This figure would appear to be from the Ohomiwa family and region, likely drawing some amount of respect from their connection with Mt. Miwa itself, and the ancient worship that went on there. So, in this version there really is a triple threat of “the old guard” banding together to resist this newfangled foreign faith.
Incidentally, this same figure, Ohomiwa no Sakahe no Kimi, also appears just after the death of Nunakura, when Prince Anahobe figured he could just waltz in and take the throne on the assumption that he was owed it by birth. He was a half-brother to Nunakura, son of Ame Kunioshi and his mother, Wonanegimi, who was another daughter of Soga no Iname. Anahobe was therefore nephew to Umako, and perhaps that is one of the reasons he thought he could just waltz in and take his seat at the head of government. But Prince Anahobe was foiled by none other than Ohomiwa no Sakahe, who posted a guard around the palace and made sure that nobody defiled it until a new sovereign had been identified by the court. Anahobe voiced his complaint that Ohomiwa was protecting the court of a “dead king”, and that they should instead come to the court of a “living king”—presumably he meant his own.
But that will take us past this point, and there are still some other details of Nunakura or Bidatsu’s reign I want to touch on, such as his dealings on the continent, but here we can see how Buddhism and the feud between the Soga and the Mononobe was in full swing, and that will definitely play a large part in future episodes. In addition, we’ll see how this time, Umako wouldn’t take things lying down. He was going to get this Buddhism thing to stick one way or the other, and we’ll see what happens when he finally founds the first permanent temple in Japan; a temple that, while perhaps not as grand as it once was, continues to operate into the modern day.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
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And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Friday, K.F. (Ed.). (2017). Routledge Handbook of Premodern Japanese History (1st ed.). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315170473
Deal, William E. and Ruppert, Brian. (2015). A Cultural History of Japanese Buddhism. Japanese Journal of Religious Studies. ISBN: 978-1-405-16700-0.
McCallum, D. F. (2009). The Four Great Temples: Buddhist Art, Archaeology, and Icons of Seventy-Century Japan. University of Hawai’i Press. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt6wqtwv
Matsuo, K. (13 Dec. 2007). A History of Japanese Buddhism. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. doi: https://doi.org/10.1163/ej.9781905246410.i-280
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Farris, W. (1998). Sacred Texts and Buried Treasures: Issues in the Historical Archaeology of Ancient Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. https://doi.org/10.1515/9780824864224
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

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Twelve Level Cap Rank System

Seventeen Article Constitution

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Dramatis Personae

Naniwa no Kishi

Kanroku / Kwalleuk

Prince Kume

Tamahe no Kimi

Magpies

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Soga no Umako

Kashikiya Hime

Prince Umayado

Prince Hasebe no Miko

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Who’s Who - Royal Family

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Hiro Hime

Hikobito no Ohine

Tomi no Obito no Ichihi

Who’s Who - Soga Family

Soga no Iname

Soga no Umako

Kashikiya Hime

Spoiler alert

Prince Takeda no Miko

Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Yōmei Tennō

Prince Umayado

Prince Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Miko

Prince Yakabe no Miko

Prince Hasebe no Miko

Ōtomo no Hirafu no Muraj

Shiba Tattō

Who’s Who - Mononobe Family

Mononobe no Moriya

Nakatomi no Muraji no Katsumi

Tottoribe no Yorodzu

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References

Who’s Who - Royal Family

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Hiro Hime

Hikobito no Ohine

Who’s Who - Soga Family

Soga no Iname

Soga no Umako

Kitashi Hime

Kashikiya Hime

Spoiler alert

Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Yōmei Tennō

Nukade Hime

Prince Umayado

Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe

Wonane Gimi

Princess Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Himemiko

Prince Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Miko

Prince Hasebe no Miko

Who’s Who - Mononobe Family

Mononobe no Moriya

Nakatomi no Muraji no Katsumi

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References

Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Nichira

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Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Ōwake no Miko

Soga no Umako no Sukune no Ōmi