Fuhon-sen

The Fuhon-sen, or Fuhon coins, are coins found in Japan with the characters “Fu” (富) and “hon” (本) written on them, hence their name. Based on the fact that they are copper coins, and found from the late 7th century onward, it is thought that these are likely the coins that were produced on the order of Temmu Tennō. If so, they would appear to be the first coins minted in Japan for the Yamato state with a specific design—there are earlier coins known as mumon-ginsen, or unmarked silver coins. As noted in the name, they do not have any particular characters. It is thought that copper was used specifically because it was easier to create the design on the coins themselves.

The New Writing System

We also hear, this reign, about a new writing system. It was catalogued in a work consisting of about 44 volumes… and then never used. We have references from later people who saw the book in the royal archives, but it does not appear to have survived until modern times. Aston names the head of the project as “Ihashiki, Sakahibe no Muraji”, though some sources suggest the name should be read “Iwatsumi”. I’m currently sticking with Aston, but please note that this could be in error.

The letters appear to have been based on a Brahmic script—others describe it as “Sanskrit”, but there were multiple scripts used for Sanskrit over the years. The Sakaibe were quite involved in diplomatic missions with the continent, and as such would have been familiar with other languages and likely in a good position to try to pull something like this together. However, it seems that it was never as popular as the idea of simply using the existing Sinitic characters, which thus evolved into Man’yogana, which in turn led to the development of hiragana and katakana as phonetic systems for the Japanese language.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 146: Coins, Letters, Games, and More

The large audience hall was filled with nobles, sitting in pairs across from each other. Throughout the hall, the roof and walls reverberated with the sounds of numerous stone markers being placed on painted wooden tables—or more appropriately, game boards.   It was accompanied by the sound of dice clattering. At the far end of the hall was the royal presence, where his majesty could likewise join in the entertainment—with someone of sufficient standing, of course.
Throughout the day there were bursts of joy and frustration throughout the hall. In some instances, one could see two players sharing in the joy and love of the game. In other cases, political rivals stared each other down, neither one willing to give away any strategic advantage. Any smiles there were merely a mask. And yet, no matter how hard one tried, there was only so much you could do. Ultimately, your fate was in the hands of the dice, though you could certainly do your best to nudge it here and there.
And so they continued. As they played, small wagers were made between players. At the conclusion of their match, each player could find another opponent, and see if their luck held out. Victory was desired, but at the very least one didn’t want to be embarrassed. As such, losing gracefully was just as important as winning with humility. Sure, there were the petty stakes that were gambled here and there, but the real stakes were embedded in the politics of the court. That was a game that everyone was playing, except that there was no board, and the rules were often merely suggestions, at best.

This episode we are going to close out the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno. It has been a while getting here—but then again, Ohoama’s reign is the best documented so far, almost like the entire Chronicle has built up to this point. We have spent about a dozen episodes on this reign—not including the four before that discussing the Jinshin no Ran.
During that time we’ve talked about how Ohoama continued the Ritsuryou experiment, while at the same time shaping it into something that was even more directly under his control. A lot of this appears to have been done with the mostly willing consent of a good part of the archipelago.
That may have been because of a few different things. For one, all of this was justified through the philosophical underpinnings of the continent. This is the new knowledge that the court had been devouring for over a century, and so I suspect that none of it seemed particularly surprising or out of place. Furthermore, it seems that Ohoama’s actions may have appealed to some of the more middle-tier elites; those for whom the idea of a government stipend was quite appealing.
There was also the external threat of Silla and Tang. Though in reality, Silla was in conflict with the Tang dynasty, up until the conclusion of the Silla-Tang War, around 676. In truth, the Tang court wouldn’t recognize Sillan sovereignty south of the Taedong river until 736, so there were still tensions. However, early on in the reign there was at least the thought that hostilities could spill over onto the archipelago.
And then there are all of the projects. The designation of national temples, the beginning of a national history project, the founding of a permanent capital city, and the creation of a formal code—the Asuka Kiyomihara Code.
Compared to all of that, the topics of this episode really are some miscellaneous stuff that I didn’t have anywhere else to put, but wanted to bring to light anyway.
First, we’ll talk about the minting of coins, and what that meant. Once again, this is really neat because we actually have some coins that appear to be from this time frame, providing what might be a direct relationship between what is written down and what we have in the archaeological record.
Then we’ll touch on another project of Ohoama’s—this one less successful than some of the others we’ve discussed. This was an attempt to create a new writing system specific to the Japanese language. Remember, at this point literate people in the archipelago were using kanji to write everything down, and for the most part they were using kanbun—so Sinitic characters and grammar, with occasional use of characters purely for their phonetic qualities when they absolutely had to spell something out. Eventually this would evolve into the syllabaries of katakana and hiragana, but there were several false starts before that, and we’ll talk about what was being attempted during Ohoama’s reign.
Beyond those court projects we’ll talk about some of the kami and Buddhist related rituals, especially as they related to growing merit and attempting to protect the state and its people from disasters—natural or otherwise. And then there are various omens, and just a few edicts that were more geared towards the court but are still fun, like when Ohoama forced the entire court to join him for a day of… board games. I guess when you are the sovereign and trying to set up a game day, scheduling is suddenly not so big of a problem.
So that’s what we are going to cover. We are skipping around throughout the reign, and so while I’ll mention dates here and there, I’ll try not to get too bogged down with the exact dates unless it really matters.
First off: coins. We are going to start somewhere in the middle, on the 15th day of the 4th month of 683. It is here that we see a note that Ohoama decreed that copper coins would be used, and not silver. Remember that a silver mine had been discovered in Tsushima back in 674. At that time we know that there were silver coins being made, but in 683 it looks like they were changing from silver to copper. But three days later, they reversed the decision to completely cancel the silver coins, so they presumably had both silver and copper coins.
Coins are interesting for several reasons. For one, coins often help us to date various collections—if they are distinctive enough. They can be quite helpful in telling us that a particular archaeological assemblage is almost certainly from sometime after the coins had begun to be circulated. After all, if you unearth a stratum of an archeological dig and you find a penny dated to 1912, you can be reasonably confident that that layer was last exposed on or after 1912, unless time travel was at play. There are some exceptions where animals or tree roots or other forces can disturb the layering, but that’s why archeologists carefully pay attention to soil features.
That isn’t to say that all coins of the time had clear dates on them. In fact, the oldest coins we have in the archipelago are something called “Mumon Ginsen”—literally unmarked silver coins. They are found in various assemblages and thought to have originated under Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou. The silver from Tsushima would have likely been used for this. For many reasons it is unclear if these were minted by the state or if they were privately minted and circulated.
The copper coin mentioned in Ohoama’s record in the Nihon Shoki would appear to be what is known as a Fuhonsen coin, which we also have extant examples of. These are round copper coins with a square hole in the middle, as was common on the continent. The previous unmarked silver coins were just small circles of solid silver. In contrast, the Fuhonsen bear the characters “FU-HON”: FU, or “Tomi”, means wealth, and HON, or “moto”, means something like base or basis. “SEN” just refers to the fact that it is a coin. So the coin represents the basis of wealth. They are just under an inch in diameter, and 1.5 millimeters thick. While primarily copper, they do have traces of antimony, silver, and bismuth. The use of copper was likely because of its lower melting point, which would have been easier to cast with.
So it seems that these were the new copper coins mentioned in the Chronicles, and the intent was originally to completely replace any silver currency. I suspect that they quickly realized that they could not easily replace all of the silver, and so the older silver coins were probably still in circulation—though I don’t know if any new ones were being minted.
We don’t exactly know how the coins were used. They weren’t being used to pay taxes or similar things—that was still all being handled in rice, silk, cloth, and labor. They might have been used by the government to pay individuals, who would then exchange them for goods, but they were probably not used very often between individuals. There is even some suggestion that they had a more ritual meaning.
Coins of a similar shape—round with a square hole in the center—go back to at least 350 BCE on the continent, and were quite common by the time of the Han dynasty. The round hole allowed them to be placed on strings—you’ll often see references to strings of cash. In the Qin dynasty, a string was meant to be a superunit, made up of 1000 coins. Merchants and others operating at some scale could then just pay in “strings” of cash rather than counting out each and every coin. It also provided a way of transporting them. Anyone doing business in east Asia would have encountered coinage from one of the dynasties on the mainland, and we certainly see various coins making their way over to the archipelago, though how exactly they were used and valued isn’t certain. It may have been more important to just have them on hand for trips to the continent so that an embassy or trading vessel could participate in the economy, there.
The next coin to be minted in the archipelago itself wasn’t until 708, and that was the Wadokaichin, or Wado coins, named for the four characters around the square hole, which included the era name that they were created, “Wado”. This seems to have kicked off an actual national currency that would only last for a couple hundred years before it was debased and lost its value. For centuries after that, rice was once again the primary currency, and would continue to be so, even though the Tokugawa shogunate would begin to mint and issue coins again through much of their rule. Still, coins were often outside the grasp of most of the common people.
While coins may not have fully caught on, they did better than our next project. This was a task that was given to Sakahibe no Muraji no Iwashiki who compiled, by royal command, a new set of characters, which were recorded in a book of 44 volumes. Though this book is no longer extant, we do have later sources that claim it was once in the royal library. It describes the characters as similar to Sanskrit characters.
This appears to be an attempt to create an alphabet, or syllabary, for the Japanese language. While Yamato had adopted the Sinitic systems of logographic writing, it wasn’t exactly up to the task of directly writing in Japanese. For one thing, the languages had different sounds that they used, and in different combinations. Furthermore, grammatically, the two were quite different. Many Sinitic languages are Subject, Verb, Object, similar to English, while Japanese is Subject, Object, Verb, meaning the verb goes at the end. But beyond that, Japanese relies extensively on conjugation of verbs, with verbs and adjectives changing to express tense and other such things that Sinitic languages, such as modern Putonghua and languages such as Middle Chinese handle in other ways.
To give an English speaking person a similar experience, imagine writing sentences as “The bird in the tree sat” or “the man the bread at the store bought”. Now remove many of the articles and prepositions, so you get things like “bird tree sit” and “man bread store buy”. You can imagine how that can really get unwieldy if you want to convey more nuanced concepts.
Japanese would either need to add a phonetic writing system—which it did—or it would need to come up with new characters to use in place of the special qualities of the language. Or they would need to continue to write in Sinitic grammatical order and continue to do the translation to Japanese on the fly.   One can imagine that this was hardly efficient—in order to learn how to write you would basically have to learn a whole new language.
That these new symbols were similar to characters associated with Sanskrit also makes sense, and we even see similar attempts on the continent, though they had other writing systems to compare to as well. For example, we see the Persian Sogdian, written with a variation of Syriac script, and the Ghandari language written with its own Ghandari or Kharosthi script, but the influence of Buddhism likely explains why scripts associated with Sanskrit likely had a greater influence than other languages. I should note here that Sanskrit itself does not have a single script—today, people probably think of the Devanagari script, commonly used in India, but that doesn’t seem to have been developed until the 8th century. The work of Iwashiki was likely based on something like the Siddham, or Kutila, script. This is an abudgida, where consonants and vowels are connected together when written. This would have worked well for the Japanese language as phonemes are often grouped together as consonant-vowel clusters known as morae. Siddham evolved in the late 6th century and many Buddhist scripts that were making their way along the Silk Road would have used it. However, it is said that Siddham proper—or at least as we know it today—was introduced to Japan by the famous monk Kuukai in the early 9th century. If that is the case, then what script was Iwashiki using as his inspiration?
Regardless of the details, this new script doesn’t seem to have taken off. It may have just been too much to ask someone to learn the various kanji AND another system on top of that. Instead, the Japanese would adopt certain kanji over time, and simplify them into what we know, today, as kana.
Our earliest example is what we know of as Man’yogana, named for the Man’yoshu, an 8th century collection of poems attributed to various contemporary and historical figures. Because the poetic structure of Japanese required specific counts of syllables or, more specifically, morae, it was important to capture the actual pronunciation of the language. Certain characters were chosen and used over and over again purely for their phonetic value, rather than any other inherent meaning. Over time, those characters were simplified and standardized, developing into the katakana and hiragana still used today. While it was these organically-evolving systems that would eventually be most popular and fill the gap, but it is still incredible to see someone deliberately tackling the problem at this early date.
Moving on from money and writing, let’s turn now to matters of the kami and the Buddha.   Yamato existed in a world that saw itself as being caught between forces both seen and unseen. Besides the natural world there was the spiritual world, and to many it was just as real as anything else.
We’ve talked all along about the interplay between the court, the kami and the Buddha, and some of the evidence we see is relatively simple. For instance, in 675, the Ohokami, the great god, of Tosa presented a divine sword to the sovereign. I doubt that a kami was showing up in person to the court—this would have been priests from the shrine.   Aston suggests that the kami in question was probably either Hitokotonushi no Mikoto or Misukitakahikone no Mikoto, quoting “authorities” which he does not otherwise name.
We get more serious, though, when it comes to major events. And the drought and famine of 676 seems to fit that description. As you may recall from episode 144, the governor of Shimotsukeno reported a bad harvest in the 5th month, and by the 6th month we see more reports coming in of a great drought. Clothing was collected for the Buddhist temples to help build merit. Later, there was a comet in the sky, and then, in the 8th month, we see that the court compelled the Kuni no Miyatsuko and the governors to all contribute to an Ohoharae, or Great Purification.
Eventually, the Ohoharae would become a regular ceremony held on the 30th day of the 6th and 12th months of the year, with royal princes down to the high ministers gathering at the southern gate—the Suzaku-mon. Members of the Urabe, the Diviners, would read the various norito, the ritual prayers, to disperse evil influences. It was, and is,also used when there is a royal visit to the Ise or Kamo shrines, as well as at the Dajosai festival at the start of a new reign. It can also be done if there is thought to have been some kind of offense that was committed.
“Harae”, or “purification”, is a common part of Shinto ritual today. From the simple washing of the hands and mouth before entering the shrine grounds to pray to spiritual purification performed by a priest who waves a large stick with paper streamers—the ohonusa or haraegushi—while chanting prayers to ward off evil influences, purification is a key component in Shinto, which often concerns itself with aspects of spiritual pollution. And so the Oho-harae, the Great Purification, is that, but turned up to eleven.
The litany used for the Ohoharae, today, is also known as the Nakatomi no Ohoharae, indicating the importance of the Nakatomi in the ritual. This Ohoharae, however, was taking place in the 8th month, and may not have had all of the traditions of the later rituals we know today. Rather, we are told what was required: The Kuni no Miyatsuko of the provinces were instructed to send one horse and a piece of cloth to specific shrines of purification. In addition, the governors of the various districts were each told to supply one sword, one deerskin, one mattock, one smaller sword, one sickle, one set of arrows, and one sheaf of rice. In addition, each household had to supply a bundle of hemp cloth. These may not have been used in the ritual as much as they were offerings to the kami and their shrine.
We’ll see this in various cases where the State places rather onerous financial requirements on the population in order to perform rituals. Of course, by the logic of the time, whatever was donated would make the ritual more effective—it would be more pleasing to the kami. Still this seems remarkably costly in a year where we are told that the peasants were starving just a few months prior.
I’ll also take this moment to point out a link here to something that anyone who has been to a shrine may be familiar with, and that is the donation of horses. Horses were common enough a donation—if people of status rode horses, then how much more so the kami themselves? Sacred or votive horses could be used to carry the kami, and even today some shrines keep sacred horses for the kami. However, not everyone has horses to donate, and I suspect that the shrine probably didn’t need an entire herd of horses. And so some would pay money for an image of a horse, instead, to be hung in the shrine, likely indicating the donor. Of course, this wasn’t just a picture, but an official record of some kind of donation, which could theoretically go to purchase horses and other such things that the shrine might need. These pictures of horses were known as “e-ma”, literally “picture horse”, and we still see them today: The most common type of e-ma will be small wooden placards sold at the shrine, and people will write their desires on the back, with their name and information. They will often be found hanging in groups on specially designated racks meant for that purpose. Today, e-ma might have horses on them, but more often have other pictures, associated with the particular shrine and kami.
Speaking of horses, we have a couple more references to them this year. At some point, Ohoama had issued an edict seeking horses, not just for riding, but other good horses so that the givernment would have them when needed, distributed to the various post-stations. So when he was returning from a banquet by the Todoroki pool in Hatsuse—modern Hase--Ohoama made a diversion to the post-station of Tomi and had the horses demonstrate their speed. Presumably this was just a horse race, which seems to be popular around the world, in any place with horses.
We see something similar when we are told that Ohoama went to Asatsuma to inspect the horses of the officials there. At his request, the officials organized a competition of horseback archery. This appears to reference the famous art of Yabusame—though it may not have been recognized as such just yet, there is some thought that the idea of a horsed archer shooting at three targets while galloping past may have originated in the 6th century, with ties to Usa Jingu. Still, horseback archery would remain important, and later it would become the primary art of the warrior class from about the 12th to the 13th century or so—and arguably even up until the Sengoku period, with its spear formations and foreign guns.
Later, in the 10th lunar month of 681, Ohoama and the court were prepared to go hunting on the Hirose plain. A temporary palace was prepared and all of the bags were packed, but ultimately, Ohoama didn’t go. Instead, those from the rank of Prince to high ministers stayed at Karunoichi—a market at a cross-roads in the Nara basin that likely was the location of a government stable. There, they inspected the horses and saddle equipment. Those from the rank of Shokin up sat under the trees while those of Daisen and below mounted up and passed along from south to north. Not quite as exciting as horse racing or horsed archery, but who doesn’t like a parade.
One wonders what happened to call off the hunt. Perhaps Ohoama, while not bedridden, was not in the best of health. If he was having some kind of recurring problems then that could explain some of the merit-making as well. You may recall we discussed how much merit the state seemed to be trying to make in support of the sovereign’s health, which we discussed in episode 142.
Getting back to the Ohoharae—the great purification. That was followed up by a general amnesty, which we talked about last episode, as well as a command to let loose living things. This is a Buddhist practice that one still sees today in various places, usually in the form of letting loose animals like fish and birds that were kept by individuals. I don’t think they were just opening up the paddocks and letting the horses, cattle, and other animals go. As fascinating as that might be to contemplate, with horses just running wild and cattle trampling the rice fields, I doubt they took it that far.
Still, this practice was clearly an attempt to make more merit for the State.   This edict was repeated only a few months later, in the 11th lunar month, but then it was confined to those provinces that were considered to be “near” to the capital, so a little more focused. The day after that second release of animals, men were dispatched to all parts to expound the Konkwoumyou and Ninou sutras. This was the Sutra of Golden Light and the Sutra of the Benevolent King—both sutras focused on concepts of good rulership and protection of the State. In fact, together with the Lotus Sutra, they would come to be considered the Gokoku Sanbukyou—the Three sutras for Protection of the State. They were read for the purpose of averting disaster, but they also helped to prop up the image of a righteous and benevolent ruler—what might be termed a golden-wheel turning sovereign, or Chakravarti.
So all of this would seem to simultaneously reflect an intention to protect the State while also demonstrating performative regnal righteousness. It was, after all, what a good ruler was supposed to do, which also conveniently told people what a good ruler was supposed to do.
It is unclear whether or not the court actually felt this did anything. I would note that a month later they were asking Princes and Ministers to gather up weapons, so it is possible that they were concerned about more than just natural disasters— such as a concern that the people were getting restless. A few days later, we see more largess, as the court made presents to public functionaries and men of the frontier states. It is unclear to me if this is a reward of some sort or perhaps an attempt to boost their morale and support.
Later in that month we see preparations for the upcoming Feast of First Fruits, or Niinamesai, two months later. We are told that the Jingikan, the Office of Kami Matters, had made the divination that the Yuki, the ceremonially pure rice for the ritual would come from the District of Yamada, in Owari. For the Sugi, the “next” lower quality of rice, that would come from the district of Kasa, in Tamba. The feast went off as usual in the 11th month, pre-empting the normal announcement of the first of the month.
Later in the record we see that preparations were started for another Ohoharae, or Great Purification, and a general amnesty was issued. This time, instead of sending horses for the kami, the Miyatsuko of each province were to supply one male and one female servant to the shrines, instead.
Fifteen days later, in the intercalary 7th lunar month—an extra month inserted to keep the lunar and solar calendars in synch—we see the queen, Uno, hosting a feast after ritual fasting. She then had sutras expounded throughout the capital. I find it particularly interesting that this was apparently instigated by the queen, but along with the Ohoharae, this all speaks towards the feeling that the State needed to be purified and supplied with good merit.
The Ohoharae was not the only way to curry favor with the kami. For example, in one record we see Ohoama designating sacred rice-tax for the shrines of Heaven and Earth—shrines for the Amatsu kami and Kunitsu kami. One third of the rice was to go to the kami directly, while two thirds of the rice was to go to the priests who kept the shrines going.
This same year, 677, we aren’t told where the rice for the Niiname-sai came from, but we are told that those who donated as well as members of the Jingikan, who were involved in the divination and ritual more generally, were all compensated for their troubles with various presents.
The Jingikan is one of those aspects of the new, bureaucratic state, that feels extremely tied to the archipelago. It literally is the Bureau of Kami Matters, or the Bureau of Kami Affairs—the Kami no Tsukasa. It would even come to be ranked above the Council of State in the official org chart of the government. While the government had national temples and appointed members of the clergy who were responsible for keeping the Buddhist institutions in line with the State, the Jingikan was that entity for court ritual, and even for interfacing with various shrines around the country.   In the 10th century, all of the official shrines across the archipelago would be catalogued and assessed a rank and position, with Ise Shrine and the royal court at the top of the list.
Speaking of the national temples, the fourth month of 680 was when Ohoama designated the national temples—which we also covered in Episode 142. On the first day of month after that, we are told that he bestowed gifts of silk and cloth to 24 temples around the capital; and if there really were 24 temples just around the capital itself, one can imagine why they had to put a stop to publicly funding all of them. That must have been quite the upkeep. That same day, the Golden Light Sutra was expounded in the palace and at select temples as well. As we’ve seen, the court relied just as heavily—or more—on Buddhism for certain rituals and providing spiritual power.
While both Kami-based rituals and Buddhism were revered for their ability to affect the supernatural, Buddhist priests seem to have had a particularly revered place in—or perhaps more rightly outside—of society. One is more likely to hear about someone who was a Buddhist priest or a novice being revered than a kannushi, or shrine priest. For example, in the 7th month of 680, the priest Kouchou, of Asukadera, passed away. The royal princes Ohotsu and Takechi were sent to express royal condolence. Later that same year we would see something similar, with Royal—later Crown—Prince Kusakabe visiting the eminent priest (Y)emyou on his death bed. Yemyou died the next day, and three royal princes were sent to offer the condolences on behalf of the royal family.
Towards the end of 680, Ohoama fell ill. One hundred individuals were made to take holy orders on his behalf, after which he appears to have recovered—or at least recovered enough for the time. Earlier in the month his queen, Uno no Sarara, had taken ill, for which Ohoama had pledged to build Yakushiji, a temple of the Medicine Buddha, as we talked about in Episode 142.
Although Ohoama temporarily recovered, we have mentioned how there are plenty of suggestions that he may not have been entirely better. It could just be that time and numerous diseases were taking a toll, or perhaps he had an ailment that came and went. I get that impression from things like in the 10th month of 685, as autumn changed to winter, several nobles were sent to Shinano to build a temporary palace in preparation for a royal progress. It seems that Ohoama wanted to visit the hot springs at Tsukama. Tsukama may have been located on the outskirts of modern Matsumoto city, in Nagano, which is known for its hot springs, today. Bentley implies that the court was not entirely thrilled with Ohoama taking this journey. I have to wonder whether or not this was all about Ohoama’s health—hot springs were often seen as restorative. At the same time, this sounds like a fairly long journey into the mountains as the weather was growing colder. That also may have been part of the draw, however, allowing them to travel and see the changing leaves, a very common pastime in successive centuries, and even today.
I can’t help but imagine that Ohoama was seeking the restorative properties, while his court may have been apprehensive about the journey there and back as the days were getting colder. Compare this to his actions at the start of the Jinshin no Ran, when he made that incredible dash from Yoshino, through the mountains, over to Owari. But that was well over a decade ago, at this point, and he seems not quite so spry as he once had been.
Another popular record that we find in this reign were various oddities and omens. We’ve covered quite a few, but I did want to cover a few more before we pull the curtain closed on this era.
First off, early in the reign, we see a record in the 10th month of 675 for a woman in the district of Takakura, in the province of Sagami, giving birth to triplets. A quick Internet search suggests that natural triplets occur in about 1 in every 8000 or 10,000 births. However, there is another thing to consider at this time: giving birth to a single child was already a risky business, and death during or just after childbirth was a constant threat. So now consider the issues with giving birth to twins or even triplets. The odds that there is a complication just go up at that point. So I suspect this was a very rare occurrence. The fact that it was three sons was probably also seen as particularly auspicious, at least for any who were studying traditional Confucian scholarship.
Moving on to the 4th day of the 4th lunar month of that same year, we get an omen for the court. First is a cock sent to the court by Wanitsumi no Yogoto, from the Lower Sofu district in Yamato province. This cock is said to have had a comb like a camelia flower, which was apparently quite auspicious. On the other hand, a report came in from Akunami, also in Yamato province, about a hen that had turned into a cock. Aston, of course, considers that this would have been an ominous sign—a disruption of the natural order. To be honest, I don’t see any particular judgment placed on it one way or the other. It is just listed as a wondrous or miraculous occurrence.
The year 678 has remarkably few events, in total, with nothing recorded between the 4th and 9th months. And the 9th month was just a note about the death of one, Prince Wakasa, of the third princely rank. The month after that we have another one of those strange occurrences. This time it is a report of something falling from the sky like silk floss, except that it was 5 or 6 feet long and 7 or 8 inches wide. It supposedly floated on the wind and waved from the fir woods and the reed plains. People who saw it called it kanro, or “sweet nectar”.
This is really just a crazy entry. I’ve wracked my brains to think of a natural event that could cause something like this, but this seems like something that was more like a rumor that got written down. “Kanro” is thought to be something that Buddhist texts refer to as “Amrita”, an exlixir of immortality. In continental lore, it is said to be a sweet nectar that forms when yin and yang are in harmony—such as during a benevolent reign. So whatever the truth of any natural event, to the Chroniclers the entry is clearly a chance to hype up Ohoama’s reign.
And then, towards the end of the 8th month, we see Katsura no Miyatsuko no Oshikatsu presenting auspicious stalks of grain. Reportedly they all came from different plots and yet had very similar ears of grain. Auspicious stalks of rice weren’t uncommon, but Aston suggests that this was possibly an allegory for all of the royal princes who were brought together in Yoshino to swear to support each other. The 8th month may have been when the grain was harvested—because it wasn’t until the final month of the year that we see the court reacting. At that point presents were made to the Royal and non-Royal Princes, the Ministers, and the public functionaries, all according to rank, in consequence of the auspicious stalks of grain. In addition there was an amnesty for all offences from capital crimes on down.
Now on top of all of that, there were a few edicts that touched on various topics that we just haven’t gotten to, elsewhere.
For instance, in the 8th month of 681, on the 10th day, we see a notification to all of the people in the archipelago who claimed descent from those from the continent—specifically those from the Korean peninsula, or the Samhan. They were told that the taxes, which had previously been remitted for 10 years, so starting in 671, had come to an end. However, corvee labor was still remitted for ten years to them and their children and grandchildren who had been with them when they first arrived.
There are some questions about this passage, but in general it seems that those refugees who had escaped to the archipelago from Baekje and Goguryeo had previously been given 10 years from the time they arrived during which they did not owe taxes. This included corvee labor—which also extended to any children that had been with them at the time. Children that were born after that… well they wouldn’t be of age to be used as corvee labor in 10 years so this would only apply to those who were with them at the time and who would be of age within that 10 year timeframe.
This exemption from taxes appears several times in different forms, and appears to be a grace period, during which people were expected to establish themselves, open fields, and begin to thrive. At the end of 10 years, then they would start paying taxes, with the assumption that they had more than enough time to prepare and work the land.
Moving on to one of my favorite entries, on the 18th day of the 9th lunar month in 685, Ohoama declared a game day. He had the Princes and Ministers gather at the Ohoandono, the Great Audience Hall, and had them play a game called “Pakugi” or “Bakugi”. We aren’t quite sure what the rules were—it probably wasn’t Settlers of Catan, but you never know. It was likely a game with dice, possibly a version of backgammon, which is quite old and commonly known as a game for gambling. That same day, Ohoama gave out gifts of robes and trousers to ten princes and others—perhaps related to the gaming session?
The history of games and gaming is particularly fascinating. For one thing, many of the games that were played in the archipelago had come from the continent, and many had variants that had traversed the entirety of Eurasia. Backgammon and Chess were both games that had variants that would be known in Japan. Backgammon was known as sugoroku, and in Japan they played a game similar to chess known as Shogi. They would also play go—or more appropriately igo—from at least the Nara period, though that game, invented in what is now China, does not seem to have spread quite as much as either backgammon or chess variants. And while chess was a game that was often highly localized—with different pieces representing different things and often moving in different ways depending on the variant—backgammon seems to have been quite similar everywhere, and could probably be played by two people with wildly different cultural backgrounds with very little interpretation needed.
The day after Ohoama had the court join his game day, there were more presents. This time it was brown bear hides given to the royal and non-royal princes. In total there were 48 hides given out, which is really pretty incredible. I have this image in my mind of a very Asuka era wooden mansion, with wood and bronze and silk, and then a large bear hide sprawled out on the floor. I’m not sure exactly how they were used, but I suspect that they were mostly used as floor coverings for people to sit or lay on, though I could also see them being used as sleeping mats. It seems they were clearly elite status goods, but hardly what we think about in this period.
And that is where we are going to come to a close. There are only a few more things that we’ll get to, but they are all related to what happened with the events surrounding Ohoama’s death and the succession that followed, so we’ll touch on those when we kick off the next reign.
Until then if you like what we are doing, please 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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Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Bentley, John R. (2025). Nihon Shoki: The Chronicles of Japan. ISBN 979-8-218634-67-4 pb
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN 0-80480984-4.

Fuhon-sen

The New Writing System

Rough Transcript

References