Episode 142: The Four Great Temples

February 1, 2026 Joshua Badgley

Yakushiji in Nara. When it was moved from the Asuka region, it was built in relatively the same configuration, and so despite its later construction, it gives a good example of what the temples of the time would have looked like, generally speaking. Photo by author.

Asukadera, aka Hōkōji (飛鳥寺・法興寺)

Later known as Gangōji (元興寺), the name used by the transferred temple, today, in modern Nara city. This temple was founded by Soga no Umako on part of the Soga family estate. The Gangōji Garan Engi, which tells the story of the founding of Gangōji, is also the document that gives us the date 538 for the earliest reference for Buddhism in the archipelago. Today, the site of Asukadera is still occupied by a much smaller temple, which contains an image thought to have been one of those from the original temple. The rest of the temple buildings have long been lost and only a small part of the previous compound is currently occupied.

Kudara Ōdera, aka Takechi Ōdera, aka Daikandaiji (百済大寺・高市大寺・大官大寺)

This temple would later be known as Daianji (大安寺) after it was moved up to modern Nara city, and it is through the records of that temple that we get confirmation that helps us understand its history. There is still a lot of speculation as to the various locations that this temple stood. It appears that the temple ruins at Kibi Pond are the most likely. It was later moved to somewhere in Takechi district, and renamed Takechi Great Temple. Then it was likely moved one more time, though by that point it was already known as Daikandaiji, the Great Temple of the Royal Court.

Kawaradera (川原寺)

This temple we know the least about in terms of its founding. If there was a comparable “Garan Engi”, it seems to have been lost, and the Nihon Shoki does not go into much detail on it. It is the only temple of the four that was not transferred to the new capital in Nara. Today, you can see the foundations at the old temple site, though a new, much smaller temple, Gufuku-ji, has been built on top.

Yakushiji (薬師寺)

A temple specifically to Yakushi Nyorai (薬師如来), aka the Medicine Buddha, it was the last of the four built, and was dedicated in order to gain merit for Ōama’s wife, Queen Uno no Sarara, who had taken ill. It would not be completed until after Ōama’s death. It was built in conjunction with the new Fujiwara capital that they were building around the same time, and you can go see the site where we believe it was. When it was moved to modern Nara it kept its name and appears to have largely kept its layout as well.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 142: The Four Great Temples

Rising up into the sky, the bronze spire atop the pagoda seemed to touch the heavens. The beams, doors, and railings were all painted bright red, with white walls, and green painted bars on the windows. At each level, the eaves swept out, covered in dark ceramic tiles, with shining bronze plaques covering the ends of the roof beams. At each corner, a bronze bell hung, chiming in the breeze. This pattern continued upwards, tier after tier.
Around the base of the pagoda, throngs of government officials dressed in their formal robes of office moved past, flowing through the temple’s central gates. As they passed, they looked up at the impressive tower, the largest of its kind in all of Yamato. From somewhere, a deep bell chimed, and the crowds made their way towards the lecture hall. There, the monks were prepared, with sutras and voices at the ready. Facing a sacred image, they would read through their sutras in unison. Their voices would carry through the great empty space and reverberate through the crowds—those that could get close enough to hear, anyway. The chanting created a musical cacophony.     In that sea of human voices, one could almost sense something more—something spiritual. A power, that one could almost believe could hold at bay just about any disaster that could befall a person—or even the state itself.

Alright, so this episode we are still in the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou. I know we’ve already seen how that ends, but there is still a lot to cover.
But before I go too far, I’d like to first give a shout out to Lisa for helping to support the show on Ko-Fi. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it. If you would like to support us as well, we’ll have more information at the end of this, and every episode.
We’ve talked about how the reign of Ohoama was a time where the court reinforced, but also subtly adjusted, the laws of the Ritsuryo state. They seem to have equally courted the Kami, Buddhism, and even continental ideas of yin and yang. Today we are going to dive into Buddhism and the State. More specifically, I want to talk about something called the Yondaiji, the Four Great Temples, and look at how these government temples, also known as “kanji” or “Tsukasa no dera” came to be, what we know about them from archaeological research, and the role they played in the State. This is going to probably recap things from earlier episodes. I am also drawing a lot from a book by Donald F. McCallum called, appropriately, “The Four Great Temples”, which goes into a lot more detail than I’ll be able to get into, here, but I recommend it for those who are really interested in this subject.
Up to this point, we’ve talked a little about the relationship that the court had with Buddhism. By the late 7th century, Buddhism had spread throughout the archipelago, and there were many temples likely created by local elites. Sensoji, in Asakusa, Tokyo, claims a founding of 628, though it may have actually been founded sometime just after 645. There are other temples around Japan, far from the Home Provinces, which likewise had similar claims to being founded in the early to late 7th century, and I question how much a role the government had in each of them.
. In 673, there were two temple-related mentions of note in the Chronicles. In one of Ohoama’s earliest edicts he orders the copying of the Issaiko, the Buddhist canon, at Kawaradera.   That same year, 673, Prince Mino and Ki no Omi no Katamaro—whom we discussed last episode—were sent to build Takechi temple, later known as Daikandaiji. I mention Daikandaiji specifically because
while it was originally built as the Temple of Takechi, at some point took on that other name—“Daikandaiji”, aka Ohotsukasa no Ohodera—which Aston translates as the “Great Temple of the Great Palace”, as it appears to have specifically been designated as the great temple of the government. In other words, it is one of a few National Temples. And this became particularly important in the year 680, which is the year we are told the government stopped administering—and, more importantly, stopped funding—all but a handful of so-called “national temples”. At this point, as I’ve mentioned, Buddhism was widespread enough that there were enough adherents that could maintain their own local temples. Of course, local elites likely found some cachet in funding temples, and communities of believers in various areas would likewise have been asked to provide funds as well.
So the court accordingly declared that going forward, the government would only administer 2 or 3 national temples. For all other temples, if tthey had been granted the proceeds of sustenance-fiefs, those would be limited, from the first year to the last, of 30 years in total. As I read it, that indicates that if they had received the fiefs 15 years ago, they would be allowed to hold onto them for another 15 years, after which point they would need to find alternative sources of funding.
The early national temples appear to be Daikandaiji and Kawaradera. Finally, there is Yakushiji, which Ohoama began construction on in 680 for his queen, Uno no Sarara, when she was ill—and just hold on to that for now. Interestingly, Asukadera, or Houkouji, in many ways the original national temple, was not designated as such in the new reorganization, but it would continue to be administered by the government as a temple in a special arrangement. That’s why the original count in the Nihon Shoki mentions “2 or 3” national temples instead of four.
These four temples are mentioned in the Shoku Nihongi, the Chronicles following the Nihon Shoki, as the Four Great Temples, or Yondaiji. Although that work wasn’t compiled and published until the end of the 8th century, the term Yondaiji appears in an entry for 702, about five years after the last entry in the Nihon Shoki, and over a decade before its publication
So at this point we’re going to look at each of these “great” temples individually, plus a couple of other important ones, and what they tell us about the history of Buddhism, Buddhist temples, and the Yamato state at this point in Ohoama’s reign.
The first of these four temples, chronologically, is Asukadera. This is the temple originally built by the Soga, and the first major Buddhist temple built. Its layout shows three separate golden image halls, or kondou. And here we should probably recap something about the general layout of a Buddhist temple, so we can understand what we are talking about.
The most important buildings in a Buddhist temple at this time were the kondou, the golden image halls; the pagoda, or stupa; and the koudou, or lecture hall. The golden image halls held golden Buddhist images—Buddhas, Boddhisatvas, Arthats, and more. These rooms are often somewhat dark, and would have been lit mainly by candles, as well as the sun coming through—though even then the sun often is obscured by overhanging rooves and latticework. Sometimes the doors would have small openings so that the sun’s rays strike in a particular way at different times. All of this presents an image of bright gleaming gold in the darkness—a metaphor for the teachings of the Buddha, but also an intentionally awe inspiring display for those who came to view them and pray.
The kondo were usually the first structures to be built for a temple, so if your temple had nothing else, it probably had an image hall.
The next structure that one would probably build would be the stupa, or pagoda. A pagoda was a tower, in which were sometimes kept images, but more importantly, it would often hold some kind of relic. The idea of the stupa originated as a place to house relics—often bone fragments and teeth attributed to the Buddha, even if those were actually precious stones. Stupas were originally (and still, in many places) large mounds, but as Buddhism made its way over the Silk Road, these were replaced with multi-tiered towers. Pagodas are often 3 or 5 storeys, though the number of stories can go up to 7 or 9 or as low as 1.    Once again, in a world where most buildings, other than perhaps a specially made lookout tower, were only one or maybe two stories in height, a three to five story pagoda must have been something to behold, especially covered with tiled eaves, adorned with bronze bells, and brightly painted in the continental fashion.
In Europe I would point to similar uses of gold and ostentatious ornamentation on the cathedrals of the day, and even in churches more generally, if on a smaller scale. This is meant to impress and thus lend authority to the institution. And of course, because that institution was so closely aligned to the State, it gave the State authority as well. We mentioned, previously, how the monumental structures of the kofun had given way to the Buddhist temples as a form of ritual display.
The last of the three buildings I would mention is the lecture hall, or Koudou. This would also likely have Buddhist images, but it was more of a functional hall for conducting rituals, including recitation of sutras and presenting Buddhist teachings. The koudou was often at the back or north end of the temple complex. In early Buddhist temple layouts, it was common to have everything in a straight line, more or less, and to remain symmetrical. So there would be a main gate through which one would enter. In front of you there you probably saw the pagoda. Beyond the pagoda was a path, and then the kondou, or image hall, typically with a lantern in front, and behind that was the koudou, or lecture hall.
This was all typically oriented on a north-south axis, such that one would enter through the southern gate and walk north towards the lecture hall. The north-south orientation is likely another feature from the continent, where the most important buildings were often south-facing, and thus in the north of the compound. This was the same with the palace layout, and likely for similar reasons—not just cultural, but also practical. After all, the sun, in the northern hemisphere, remains slightly to the south, and so this would have provided the most light through the day.

This layout was not strictly adhered to, however. For instance, if we look at Asukadera, you would enter through the southernmost gate and you were then met with another gate for an inner compound. This middle gate would lead you to a large courtyard, about 320 meters on a side, with a covered walkway, or gallery, along the entire circumference of the compound. Entering through the middle gate one would have first noticed the large pagoda and not one but three golden image halls. A path led to the pagoda, and then beyond from the pagoda to the central kondou. There is even a stone where a large bronze lantern was likely situated between the pagoda and the kondou. Based on archaeological evidence, it appears that there was originally just one image hall, directly north of the pagoda, but at a later date, they added two more kondou to the east and west of the pagoda. This has been compared to a temple layout found in Goguryeo, but given that these were likely later additions, and we know that Baekje artisans were involved, I suspect that is just later coincidence.
Connecting the layout of the temples to continental examples has been a keen area of study for many scholars. The general theory is that temple layouts can help point to whether there was more of a Baekje, Silla, or Goguryeo influence during the construction of the temple, and what that might have meant for Yamato’s international relations as well as various political factions in the court who may have leaned more towards one group or another.
The last building at Asukadera, the koudou, or lecture hall, was directly north of the kondou, but you couldn’t get there directly. The entire pagoda and image hall compound was separate from the lecture hall, which stood north and apart, though still on the temple grounds, which would have been surrounded by an outer wall.

At this point, since we’re talking about the layout of Asukadera and where it came from, I’m going to digress from the next of the four great temples and talk about two other early temples that are important for understanding Buddhist temple building at this time. So bear with me for this slight detour.
The first of these is Shitennoji, the Temple of the Four Heavenly Kings, in modern Osaka. This temple is said to have been built in 593, and is attributed to Shotoku Taishi. Presumably he made a vow to do so during the war between the Soga and the Mononobe, which we discussed back in episode 91. As you may recall from that and earlier episodes, the Mononobe were considered to be against the idea of Buddhism, while the Soga were promoting it.
Shitennouji was important, but doesn’t show up in the Chronicles as much as other temples, and was all the way over in Naniwa. As such, I suspect that it was not considered a good candidate for “national” temple status at the time. Still, if we look at the original layout, Shitennoji is quite similar to what we see in Asukadera. Everything is on a north-south axis. You go through a middle gate to the inner compound. There you find a pagoda, and past that, a lantern and then the kondou. Unlike Asukadera, the koudou, or lecture hall, is incorporated into the back wall, such that the gallery continues from the middle gate around to either side, and then meets at the sides of the lecture hall. There are also east and west gates, as well as other buildings, but the main layout is pretty comparable.
The second is another temple, which also lays claim to being founded by Prince Shotoku Taishi, and which was not included in the four great temples. This may have had to do with the fact that it wasn’t in the Asuka valley, but also may have had to do with just the timing. That temple is the famous one known as Horyuji. Horyuji was founded on the site of the Ikaruga palace, said to have been the home of none other than Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi. As such, one imagines it was quite the prominent temple in its day. However, it was at a distance from the capital, and it also had the misfortune to have burned down in about 670, just before Ohoama ascended the throne, and it wasn’t fully rebuilt until about 711, leaving a forty year gap where the temple was not necessarily at the forefront of Buddhism.
Still, like Shitennoji, it is interesting to look at the original layout for Horyuji and compare it to Asukadera. First off, you have the same north-south orientation, and you have the same separate, internal compound for the image hall and the pagoda. Unlike in Asukadera, however, the kondou and the pagoda, which both faced south, were on an east-west axis, flanking the central pathway. Entering through the middle gate one would have seen a five storey pagoda on the left and the kondo on the right. The Koudou was outside the inner compound in the rear, along that central north-south axis. There is also evidence of two other buildings. One likely held a large bell—and possibly a drum—and the other was likely a sutra repository, where they could keep holy texts and various ritual implements.
I will also note that, even though Horyuji burned down in 670 and was accordingly not that prominent during Ohoama’s reign, it is absolutely worth visiting because substantial portions of those rebuilt buildings are still standing today. Indeed, both the Horyuji pagoda and kondou are among the oldest wooden buildings in the world. The central pillar of the pagoda was felled in 594 according to dendrochronological dating. The kondou was damaged by fire during a restoration in 1949, but about 15-20% of the original building from 670 still remains.
Going back to the Great Temples, the next of these to be built was Kudara Ohodera. Kudara here means “Baekje”, but this appears to refer more to the temple’s location near the Kudara river, rather than to the kingdom of Baekje. Kudara Ohodera is remarkable in a couple of different ways. First off, there is the fact that it is the first temple with a firm royal lineage—that is to say a temple that claims to have been founded by the sovereign. Asukadera was founded by Soga no Umako, the Prime Minister, and though Prince Umayado is said to have been the Crown Prince, nonetheless, he never reigned as sovereign, though he was considered the founder of both Shitenouji and Houryuuji. Kudara Ohodera, however, is said to have been founded at the behest of Tamura, aka Jomei Tennou, who reigned from 629-641. The temple appears to get its start in a record dated to 639, and by 645 it appears to be fully operational.
There is another tale of its founding—in the Daianji Engi, the history of Daianji, a successor temple to Kudara Ohodera, there is mention of a Kumagori Dojo, and many modern histories claim that this was the actual first temple, but there isn’t much evidence. Donald McCallum, in his treatment of Kudara Ohodera’s history in his book, “The Four Great Temples”, suggests that the Kumagori Dojo story is likely a later legendary founding that got recorded, as there is scant evidence for it, and no mention of it in other records. On the actual founding of Kudara Ohodera, however, there does appear to be general agreement with the Nihon Shoki, despite some minor differences in the dates.
The call to build Kudara Ohodera comes alongside Tamura’s also building Kudara Palace. Kudara Ohodera was also built on a grand scale, and it is said to have had a nine-storey pagoda—almost double the size of a five-storey pagoda, which already towered over other buildings of the time.
Despite all of this, for a long time it was unclear where Kudara Ohodera was actually situated. There were several sites proposed, but most recently archaeological research on Kibi Pond seems to have placed the temple there. At excavations on the southern side of the pond were found remnants of the foundations of two buildings, arranged in an east-west format. The western foundation would appear to be for a pagoda—but one much larger than any of the five storey pagodas we’ve seen elsewhere. And to the east was the foundation for what appears to be the kondo. This golden image hall, however, is likewise much larger than any other hall of this time. This arrangement would fit very well with a Houryuuji-like temple layout. There were also various other traces that were consistent with the early mid-7th century, which would coincide with the 639-645 dates for Kudara Ohodera’s construction.
Subsequent excavations appear to have found quarters for the priests, as well as at least part of a gallery wall and one gate, situated due south of the kondo. There may have been another gate south of the pagoda. The koudou, the lecture hall, may have been in the area that was later excavated to create the pond, and therefore we may never have any hard evidence of its location, despite numerous attempts to dig trenches to find more of the temple buildings. This probably also means that, similar to Shitennouji, the lecture hall was incorporated into the enclosing gallery wall rather than being outside, because if it was outside, then it likely would have been farther north and we would probably have seen some trace. As it is, the lack of any trace suggests that it was inside or part of the enclosure with the pagoda and kondou.
The large size of this archeological site concurs with what we know about Kudara Ohodera, both in its description and in the fact that it is referred to as “Ohodera”, or “Great Temple”—no other temple has really been given that name directly, though there are a few references to “Ohodera” that are ambiguous and might refer either to this temple or Asukadera.. Still, if this temple, sometimes also called Kibi Pond Temple due to its location, is not Kudara Ohodera then that just brings up more questions. How could there have been such a monumental Buddhist temple this close to Asuka and within the bounds of the later Fujiwara-kyo and yet nobody thinks to mention it? It doesn’t appear to have been started and abandoned, as there were quite a few structures built. So if this isn’t Kudara Temple then someone has some ‘splaining to do.
Indeed, McCallum notes that while there are some objections, the preponderance of evidence seems to lean greatly in favor of the Kibi Pond site for Kudara Ohodera. We still have yet to find the Kudara palace, however, so who knows. There are also questions about the construction as various architectural features are missing in ways that are not consistent with other sites. Some oddities, such as a seeming lack of rooftiles given the apparent size of the building, actually may be a point in favor of this being Kudara Ohodera, since we know that the temple was moved in 673 when Ohoama requested that they build the Takechi Ohodera, which appears to have been Kudara’s successor temple. If they had reused the material from Kudara Ohodera to build, at least in part, Takechi Ohodera, that could explain why rooftiles and other such things are not present in the numbers expected at the Kibi Pond site.
Takechi Ohodera is another bit of a mystery. I can’t help but note that Takechi is the name given Ohoama’s son who was with him on the front lines of the Jinshin no Ran. We also see a “Takechi no Agata-nushi”, who is noted as the governor of the district of Takechi. In all cases here it is spelled “Taka-ichi”, or “high market”, and it is not an uncommon name—we even find a Miwa no Kimi no Takechimaro.
In the record of the Jinshin no Ran it is noted that the governor of Takechi was possessed by the kami of Takechi and of Musa. These were named as Kotoshironushi and Ikuikazuchi. They claimed that they had been the kami that escorted Ohoama to Fuwa and saw him safely there. As such, donations were made to their shrines. Musa is an area in modern Takaichi district, which includes the area of Asuka, and is part of Kashihara city. The Takaichi Agata Jinja—or the Takechi District Shrine—sits in the Shijo area of Kashihara city, north of Mt. Unebi.
There are several proposed locations for Takechi Ohodera, but despite excavations, no clear temple features have been found. As such, there isn’t anything to clearly point to one or the other.
What we do know is that Takechi Ohodera underwent another transformation. According to the Daianji Engi, the Takechi Ohodera was renamed to Daikandaiji in 677. There is no specific mention of this in the Nihon Shoki, other than a note that Takechi Ohodera was also known as Daikandaiji and a reference, in 679, of “fixing the names”. Personally, I can’t help but wonder if this is a case of a nickname becoming the name-in-fact. As I mentioned earlier in the episode, Daikandaijij, which can also be read as “Oho-tsukasa no Oho-tera” can be translated into something like Great Government Official Great Temple or Great Temple of the Royal Court.
We do know the location of this temple in later years, but this is probably not exactly where Takechi Ohodera was originally built. For one thing, it is suspicious that the temple lines up exactly with the later grid for Fujiwara-kyo, the later capital city that was built north of Asuka. We also are told by the Daianji Engi that a nine storey pagoda and kondou were built between 697 and 707 CE. There are also notes about activities at the temple mentioned in the Shoku Nihongi for the same period. And yet there were also activities being held during that time which would not seem feasible if they were renovating in place. So likely the new construction was at a new site—possibly near the old site. And at this later site, the rooftiles were from a later period, closer to the period of the later construction and not really matching with earlier construction dates.
So what did this temple of many names – Kudara Ohodera, then Takechi Ohodera, then Daikandaiji – actually look like? We probably have a layout for the original temple and the later temple. If Kibi Pond Temple is the original Kudara Ohodera, the original temple had the kondou and the pagoda on the same east-west axis, and likely had the koudou north of that – very Horyuji-like. But based on the layout at the later temple site, we have something quite different. From the central gate, there is a path straight towards the Kondou, with the Koudou directly north of that, and the nine-storey pagoda in an odd, off-set position, southeast of the kondou. This disrupts the symmetry even more than the Kudara Ohodera layout. There is some speculation that this asymmetry was temporary and that they planned to fill the other space but just never got around to it, but there is no indication that they had prepared for anything, either. Also odd is the fact that the koudou, the lecture hall, was the same size as the image hall, the kondou, and that was roughly the same size as the enormous hall at Toudaiji, which is really saying something. This really was a tremendous building, fitting for the main temple of the royal government.
The third of the four great temples is Kawaradera, and this one is challenging to plot out chronologically as there isn’t a lot of documentation. There is no exact date for the building of Kawaradera. There is a mention of it in 653, but the same entry in the Nihon Shoki also states that there are sources that claim it should be Yamadadera, instead. Based on other evidence, this actually seems more likely.
Yamadadera is thought to have been the work of Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro, and it is where he eventually fled when accused of treason. It was founded in 641, according to the Joguki, the record of Prince Shotoku, but construction didn’t actually start until2 years later, and monks only began to occupy it in 648. The following year, however, construction halted as that is when Ishikawa no Maro fled there and committed suicide. Construction was resumed in 663, but still took time. Still, even in the middle of this very long DIY project, it makes sense that there might be some activities in 653, even if construction was paused.   Later the temple would be completed, and seems to have had powerful backing. Uno no Sarara, Ohoama’s queen, was a granddaughter of Ishikawa no Maro, and so likely had a connection to the temple, but it never attained the status of a national temple the way the others had. As far as its layout—it was similar to Shitennouji, with the pagoda, kondo, and koudou all in a line on the north-south axis.
Kawaradera was another matter. Though we aren’t sure when it was built, exactly. If we discount the 653 date as applying to Yamadadera instead, then the first date we really see anything at Kawara is Kawara Palace, built for Takara Hime—aka Saimei Tennou—who took up residence there when the Itabuki Palace burned. Later it would be used for her mogari—her temporary interment. The next mention of a temple at Kawara isn’t until this reign, in 673, when Ohoama had the Buddhist canon, the Issaiko, copied, as I noted at the top of the episode. So it must have been established and built some time before 673.
Although we don’t know when it was founded, we very clearly know where it was, as the foundations stones are still present, and quite clear—and unlike other Asuka era temples, it would stay in Asuka, rather than being removed up to the new capital at Heijo-kyo.
Given everything else and its apparent importance, the lack of information on when Kawaradera was established is quite odd. McCallum suggests that this could have been deliberate as a way to help delegitimize the temple in the 8th century, but also admits that it may have just been due to the general problems with early record keeping back in the day and there may not have been a good record of why and when the temple was founded. The rooftiles are similar to those used during the time that the court was at Ohotsu. I would also note that there is a connection between the foundation stones and a quarry up near Ohotsu at what is, today, Ishiyamadera. That still doesn’t tell us when Kawaradera was founded, as that could have been any time, and doesn’t necessarily mean that it was during the time the court was in Ohotsu.
Regardless of what textual evidence does or does not exist, the archaeological evidence is pretty staggering. Even today you can go and see some of the exposed foundation stones. This was a massive temple. There was a south gate and then a middle gate just north of that. The main enclosure was divided into two courtyards. In the first, just beyond the middle gate, at the north end was the middle kondo, while in the courtyard itself, facing each other on an east-west axis, was a western kondou and the temple pagoda. Past the middle kondou was a larger courtyard, with the koudou, or lecture hall, in the north, with a bell tower or sutra hall in the south west and southeast corners. The walls of the enclosure were made up of a covered gallery, and around the outside of the northern courtyard, containing the koudou, were smaller chambers believed to be the monks quarters, something we don’t necessarily see at all of the other sites.
Despite being an important temple, and one of the Four Great Temples during the Asuka periods, when the capital eventually moved to Heijo-kyo, in modern Nara, Kawaradera had the distinction of being the only one of the four that was not moved as well. All three of the other Great Temples had new compounds built in Heijo-kyo, and the temples were thus “transferred” to the new capital. Presumably that means that most of the monks and administration moved there, and those new temples took up the roles, duties, and responsibilities of the old temples. The temple complexes in Asuka were not necessarily destroyed or deconstructed, but instead were apparently left to their own devices, becoming reduced in status. Many of them fell into disrepair, and when disasters, such as fire, struck they were not rebuilt to the same extent as before, if at all.

Kawaradera, however, appears to have not been transferred. It would eventually be replaced as one of the Four Great Temples by the temple of Koufukuji, which was specifically a temple for the Fujiwara family, who were having a bit of a moment in the Nara period. Some have speculated that Kawaradera was specifically left behind in Asuka for that reason—so that the Fujiwara family temple could sneak into the ranks of national temples. Or it may have been that Kawaradera had a particular connection to Takara Hime and the site of her interment. If it was a memorial temple to her, then perhaps it didn’t seem appropriate to remove it from its physical location. McCallum also suggests that it was so powerful in its position in Asuka that it preferred to stay and keep its stipend-fiefs, perhaps believing that even the move to Heijo-kyo would be just another short fad, as had been Ohotsu and Fujiwara-kyo. Of course, if so, they were sorely mistaken.
And so Kawaradera would eventually fade from the picture, but during the time of Ohoama’s reign, and into that of his immediate successors, it seems that it certainly held some sway.
The fourth of the Four Great Temples was the temple of Yakushiji—the temple of the Medicine Buddha. This is the latest temple of the bunch. Its construction was ordered in the year 680 in response to Ohoama’s queen, Uno no Sarara, falling ill. And so he vowed to build a temple for her—specifically a temple to Yakushi Nyorai, the Medicine Buddha, whom we discussed last episode. That said, there is considerable time between the order to construct a temple and getting enough of it built to actually be functional. I haven’t really touched on this, except when I briefly discussed Yamadadera and how long that took to build, but all of these temples were massive works, much more complicated than the traditional palace buildings. For the most part, palace architecture could be built relatively quickly with the tools and labor available. This was a good thing, seeing as how, for many years, the sovereign had moved again and again, either because of the previous sovereign’s death in the palace or just because they chose a new location for a palace. As such, one couldn’t spend years building a new palace. So palace buildings were simply made with wooden posts, sunk into the ground, with thatched roofs. In a few examples we see attempts to use wooden boards or tiles, but they weren’t complicated.
A temple, on the other hand, was something different. Temples were largely wood, but they were massive in size and their roofs were covered in heavy ceramic tiles. All of that weight had to be properly distributed on a strong base—simple posts were not likely to work. Instead they were built on raised stone foundations. That’s great for us looking at them, today, but at the time it would have been an inordinate amount of labor. Hence why a temple like Yamadadera took so long to build.
So Yakushiji may have been founded in 680, but was likely not finished until much later, which is why we don’t really see it in the records for Ohoama’s reign and why the order for national temples probably only states that there were just two or three. However, it would become one of the four great temples, and is also notable because, in its transfer to Heijokyo, it largely retained its shape and layout, meaning that you can go to it, today, and still get some sense of what it may have been like back in the Asuka period. Granted, there are certainly differences, but there are enough similarities that it is likely worth a visit. Many of the other temples were significantly modified when they were rebuilt in the new capital in Nara.
The layout for Yakushiji is a basic rectangular layout. North of the central gate there is not one, but two pagodas, on an east-west axis from each other, flanking the path to the kondo, roughly in the center. Finally the koudou at the north end, built into the roofed gallery. The modern Yakushiji, a UNESCO world heritage site, maintains one of the pagodas from 730. Other buildings have been lost and rebuilt over the years. Today, the covered gallery only goes around half of the compound. This temple would be important, but mostly in the period following the current reign.
This period of the four Great Temples perhaps gives us some insight into the relationship between Buddhism and the State. Early on, Buddhism was the province largely of the Soga family, and Soga no Umako was apparently the most powerful figure of his day. He founded Asukadera, and early temples weree founded by Soga or their associates, including Prince Umayado. McCallum points out that the National Temples, however, were, with one exception, founded by sovereigns. Kudara Ohodera was the first, Kawaradera was likely founded for Takara Hime, and Yakushiji was founded for Queen Uno. The only one of the four that wasn’t expressly founded on a sovereign’s order was that of Asukadera, the temple by Soga no Umako. This may explain why it was both included and excluded as a national temple in the Chronicles. After all, there is no doubting its importance, but the narrative of a single, strong, royal house is somewhat impeded by the idea that one of those temples was founded by what was, for all of his power and authority, a private individual. Ultimately they didn’t include it in the edict and yet still acknowledged it as one of the Great Temples.
McCallum also points out that these four may not have been fixed quite so early on. For example, on the matter of Houryuuji—there is a bronze plaque that mentions an “Ikaruga no Ohodera”, suggesting that the Ikaruga Temple—that is to say Houryuuji, founded on the estates of Prince Umayado—was at one time granted that title. Of course, there are questions as to the exact date of the inscription, and whether or not they meant “Ohodera” in the later sense of a national temple or simply in the sense that it was large; and the term may have meant something else, earlier on.
The roster of official temples, the Tsukasa no Tera or Kanji, would grow over time, but that is something for a later period. It is worth noting, though, that the Chronicles at this point seem to distinguish between three types or levels of temples at this time, based on other edicts that we see. There is also the matter of temple names.
The first edict is from the 5th day of the 4th lunar month of 679, six years into Ohoama’s reign. The declaration states that the court would consider the history of any temple with sustenance fiefs and add or remove them as appropriate. This suggests that there were temples with sustenance fiefs—that is, that had stipends based on lands whose official output went to their upkeep—and temples without such fiefs. The latter were likely more local temples, likely funded by local elites, possibly out of actual devotion, or an attempt to gain the power that Buddhism presumably brought, or possibly just in emulation of the central court, much as the peripheral elites had also constructed the keyhole shaped kofun. Along with the adjustments of stipends, we are also told that the administration quote-unquote “fixed” the names of the temples.
This again goes to the government’s control of the temples and Buddhism. McCallum suggests that what is meant here is that they moved away from locative names to Buddhist names for the temple; up to this point, temple names appear to be about the location of the temple. So we have Asuka dera, or Asuka Temple, built in Asuka. Kudara Ohodera is Kudara Great Temple because it was by the Kudara river and the Kudara palace. When it was moved to Takechi, they changed the name to Takechi temple. Kawaradera was at Kawara, while the temple we know as Houryuuji was known at the time as Ikaruga Temple—or possibly Ikaruga Great Temple. But later these temples would be known by their Buddhist names, so Asukadera is Houkouji. Kudara Ohodera becomes Daikandaiji—and in fact, it is after this point that we see Daikandaiji in the narrative. Ikaruga dera—though not one of the yondaiji, or four Great Temples—becomes Horyuuji. I’m not quite so sure about Kawaradera, but Yakushiji, which is founded after this decree, comes to us with a Buddhist name rather than just the name of a location.
This change in name likely simplified, somewhat, the concept of moving, or transferring the temples. Rather than establishing a brand new temple with new administration and everything, they could build a new temple, but grant it the name and rights of the old temple. The old temple grounds could still be used and occupied—it was still a temple, but it was no longer the temple, at least for official purposes. It would be strange, however, to move the Asuka Temple up to the area of modern Nara city and still call it the Asuka Temple.
The year after reassessing the stipends and fixing the names of the temples we get the edict about the 2 or 3 national temples. And we’ve mostly discussed that, but here I would just point out that it does add a third distinction to the types of temples. So we have temples with no stipends, temples with stipends—but they would only last for 30 years total after which they were expected to find new sources of funding—and the national temples, which would presumably receive funding through the government in perpetuity—or until the court changed its mind.
So why do we care about any of this? Obviously Buddhism has had a huge impact on Japanese culture. However, this isn’t just about the religion as an idea, but about the institutions. These temples—especially these great temples—contained a fair amount of wealth.   It wasn’t just the golden images, or the elaborate amount of work and materials that went into the creation of the buildings. There was also the sustenance-fiefs that were paying for the upkeep. These temples were also being managed by formal government administrators. They also performed rituals that the court relied on. Association with these temples was no doubt important. Later we see princes and other members of high status families taking high ranking positions, and the temples ended up cultivating their own power. Over time, the power of various Buddhist institutions would grow, often challenging or even rivaling the power of the court itself.
There are a few other items from this reign that we see related to these temples and Buddhism, more generally. In 677 we see a Buddhist festival at Asukadera, where the entire canon was apparently reda out. The sovereign himself showed up and did obeisance to the Three Precious Things—an interesting bit of religious piety and humility.   At the same time, he had all of the Princes and Ministers find one person each to renounce the world and become a monk or nun—both men and women were chosen, without apparent distinction. We are also assured that they all did so of their own volition, and weren’t forced.
In 679, we see a regulation on the clothing of priests and nuns, as well as the men and horses who accompanied them when they traveled. If priests are going around with a full on noble retinue, well, that probably says something about the status of priests—at least the abbots and heads of these institutions.
680 – A fire breaks out at the nunnery at Tachibana temple. Tachibanadera is situated south of Kawaradera, and similar to that temple, it seems to have previously been the site of a royal palace and also isn’t recorded as being founded in the Nihon Shoki—it appears fully formed in this record. Tachibanadera’s own records seem to suggest that it was founded in 606, and claims a founding by Shotoku Taishi. It is also said to be the site of the palace where Shotoku Taishi was born to his mother, Princess Anahobe no Hashibito, consort of Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Yomei Tennou. Shotoku Taishi is also the subject of the primary image of Tachibana temple, today.
Although Tachibanadera wasn’t one of the Four Great Temples, it was likely connected to one—Kawaradera. Not only was it built on the same north-south axis as Kawaradera, but some of the tiles are similar to Kawaradera’s founding tiles. The layout was similar to Yamada-dera or Shitennouji, with the pagoda, kondou, and kooudou, all in a single north-south orientation. It is possible that Kawaradera was a monastery for male monks while Tachibanadera may have been the complementary nunnery for female initiates.
680 had a lot going on. In the 10th lunar month, the sovereign handed out alms to monks and nuns—silk and cloth. A month later, Ohoama vowed Yakushiji in hopes that it would help his wife, Queen Uno, who was unwell. He also granted a general amnesty, likely to just add further merit. Apparently it was successful, as she would go on to live for quite some time after that, even helping to take the reins of government when Ohoama himself fell ill.
In 682, Princess Hidaka fell ill. 190 people, both men and women, were pardoned for capital or lesser crimes, in an attempt to make merit, and the following day we are told that over 140 people renounced the world at Daikandaiji—likely on the Princess’s behalf.
The year after that, 683, we see the sovereign making appointments to the official buddhist offices of Soujou, Soudzu, and Risshi—Doctors of the Law. This was probably a somewhat regular occurrence, though this is the first time we see the Risshi, it seems. The mention here is apparently due to the admonition given that “Those who control the monks and nuns should act according to the law.” Definitely seems to be something there—perhaps a reason as to why the Soujou and Soudzu were being appointed. But the Nihon Shoki doesn’t give us a lot more to go on other than speculation.
Later that same year, in the 7th lunar month, we see priests and nuns gathered at the palace for the first ever ango, or retreat. An ango is where priests and nuns of different temples are brought together. The term refers to a practice said to come from the time of Shakyamuni, before there were temples. Shakyamuni’s acolytes, who spent much of the year wandering, would return to one place during the rainy season. At that time they would listen and discuss Shakyamuni’s teachings. In some sects, this practice of coming together would be particularly important, and it was a mark of honor for how many retreats a monk might have attended over the years.
In 685, the court promoted Buddhism with an edict requiring every household to maintain a Buddhist altar, with a statue of the Buddha and a copy of a sutra inside. It is unclear to me if this was just for merit-making or what, but it must have been somewhat lucrative for the various temples, who would have likely been the source for said sutras, and, at least peripherally, the statues as well.
Later that year, in the 4th lunar month, there was another ango at the palace. The month after that, Ohoama went to Asukadera and presented precious objects and worshipped. In the 8th lunar month Ohoama went to Joudouji – Aston claims this is Asukadera, also known as Houkouji—and the next day he visited Kawaradera and provided rice to the monks there. One month after that, Ohoama was feeling ill, so the court ordered Daikandaiji, Kawaradera, and Asukadera—the three Great Temples that were fully operational at that point—to chant sutras for his sake. In return they were granted various quantities of rice.
Ohoama recovered for a time, but it was perhaps a precursor of what was to come. A month later a monk from Baekje and a lay monk were sent out to seek a medicinal herb known as white okera. Today, a similar compound is known in Chinese traditional medicine as Bái Zhú. A few months later Ohoama went to the medicinal herb garden of Shiranishiki, and a few weeks later he was presented with Bai Zhu, the boiled white okera.   That same day, ritualists performed the Chikonsai, the “Calling of the Spirit”. All of this seems to indicate the early onset of symptoms that may have been temporarily abated, but likely were part of the disease or illness that would eventually take his life.
But we covered most of that last episode, and we are already dragging on longer than I expected, so I think I’m going to end it here. Coming up in the narrative, since I started to mention it, I’ll probably take a look next at the founding of the new capital of Fujiwara kyo, and what that would mean, along with other initiatives that would outlive Ohoama.
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
McCallum, Donald F. (2009). The Four Great Temples: Buddhist Archaeology, Architecture, and Icons of Seventh-Century Japan. ISBN 978-0-8248-3114-1
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4.

Episode 141: Temmu's New Year's Traditions

January 16, 2026 Joshua Badgley

A 6th century haniwa showing the circular “tomo”, an archer’s traditional wrist-guard that would continue to be used for somee time, eventually fading out of fashion in later periods but still used for ceremonial purposes. They were designed to wrap around the wrist holding the bow. Haniwa from the Tokyo National Museum, photo by author,

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On the Archery Tournament of the New Year

There are various things we touch on in this episode, but one of them is the archery tournament of the new year. This isn’t the first mention of an archery competition around New Year, but it is certainly one of the first times it is mentioned with such frequency. Later this would come to be specifically on the 17th day of the first month, with traditions around who competed, how, and any prizes. There was even a later competition the next day for any who didn’t get to shoot on the first day.

This would have been archery on foot, rather than the famous yabusame, or horsed archery, and it is unclear to me at this point just how traditions changed over time. Still, I think we can glean a few things just from what we know of what was going on, and of the period and layout of everything. They would have had targets set up at a sizeable distance from the archers, there would have been places for spectators to watch, and a specified shooting location.

This wasn’t kyudo, at least not how we think of it today. There is no indication that the traditions of modern kyudo had been developed just yet. I suspect it was a little more wild and individualistic—though still something that one would want to attempt with grace and poise, given the venue.

From what we can see of other such events in later periods, safety was likely not as high on the minds of those attending. It is very likely that spectators would have lined either side of the lanes, trusting the archers to keep their arrows at least somewhere in the vicinity of their target. There were probably those down near the targets who were prepared to swap them out, retrieve arrows, and the like, during pauses in shooting. It would no doubt have driven modern range or field captain nearly insane, but it made for good spectacle.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 141: Temmu’s New Year’s Traditions

The chill winter air meant that most of the assembled crowd had donned multiple layers of robes. Men and women had assembled together, upon the open, rock-covered courtyard, both to see and be seen. To the north and east of the courtyard were the walls and gates of the buildings that made up the royal palace, the rooves of the buildings just visible beyond the gates.
The onlookers stood arrayed around the open lanes that had been created for the event—at one end of the rocky field were targets, while at the other were archers, also arrayed in their finest outfits. While technically they wore hunting robes, cut to allow greater movement in the arm, many of these fabrics had no business being anywhere near a moor or the dirt of open fields. After all, this wasn’t just some hunt: They were demonstrating their skills in the center of the State.
At the officials’ command, the archers let loose their arrows. The crowd murmured at the soft crack of the bowstring, the faint whisper of arrow as the fletchings cut through the air, and the thud as the arrows struck their targets. Looking downrange, approval bubbled through the crowd: the targets were well-struck. Behind the archers on the field, another group awaited their turn.
The events of the day would be the talk of the court, from the lowest clerk to the highest prince , for days to come.   Not just the well-placed shot, but also the grace and poise of the one who had let loose an arrow of particular note. And heaven forbid an arrow miss its target. Even kicking up stones or scraping the earth could have negative social consequences. A particularly good showing could inspire poetry, and beyond the prizes being offered to the winner, could also bring notice to those from more obscure backgrounds.
The new year had just started, and a good performance might be just what was needed to help put the rest of the year on a good footing.

Welcome back! This is the first episode of the new year, 2026, and we are still going through the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno, covering the period from 672 to 686.
Before we get started, though, a quick shout out to Suzuki for supporting us on Patreon. It means a lot and helps us keep this thing going. If you would like to support us or our efforts to maintain the website, where we also have the Armor manual, clothing, and a miscellany on various topics, we have information at Sengokudaimyo.com and we will have more information at the end of this and every episode. Support is appreciated as I really do want to try and minimize ads—I don’t put any into the podcast myself, though some platforms may place ads around the podcast, which I cannot always control.
Now we’ve covered a lot this reign, but this episode we are going to cover three things in particular. First off, and perhaps a bit of a tangent, we’ll talk about some of the issues with the Chronicles when it comes to reading it,especially in translation. It seems quite clear to me that even the sources that the Chroniclers were using weren’t always in agreement with each other on how they spelled certain things or even in properly recording when things happened.
After that we’ll cover the major topics of this episode, focusing primarily on the New Year traditions of the court—we’ll look at the major events of the first month for each year in the reign, allowing us to see some of the similarities, and differences.
Finally, we’ll look at the last year of Ohoama’s reign, particularly as he grew ill, because it can be a fascinating question: What did people do when disease struck before we had modern medicine? Here the Chronicles reveal a lot about not only the beliefs of the time, but of their syncretism: how people were willing to reach out to whatever power they could in order to cure disease. Whether it was Yin-yang divination, beseeching the local kami, or attempting to make merit, all of these things were on the table when it came to illness and mortality.
And so, let’s get into it.
One of the first things I want to talk about is the problem that we have in trying to read the Chronicles, both in the way they are written and then the translation issue on top of that. Even in Japanese the Chronicles have to be translated out of an ancient form of kanbun—basically a Japanese version of Chinese, using Sinitic characters.
Like any document written by non-native speakers, the Chronicles have their idiosyncrasies that make it different from what someone in Chang’an might be writing at the same time. There are times and places where it is clear that something is meant to be read in the Japanese pronunciation, which itself was different from modern Japanese. Add to this the fact that there are many times that different Sinitic characters sound alike in Japanese—especially in modern Japanese. So any English translation of the Chronicles which doesn’t give the actual characters in the source text can add to the confusion.
This is why I like to consult either the Japanese Historical Text Initiative or an electronic version of the National History series text—though even those have issues at times when the characters used in the text don’t exist in modern character sets, though that seems to be less and less of a problem.
One example I want to give of the complexities of reading the Chronicles, and the need to dive deeper into the original language and consult multiple versions, is a set of records for Ki no Omi no Abemaro and others. He is our first mention of a member of the Ki family: on the 9th day of the 8th month of 673, the first year since Ohoama’s ascension and one year after the Jinshin no Ran, we are told that Ki no Omi no Abemaro and others were given favors and rewards for their service during the war in Iga province. Indeed, Ki no Omi no Abemaro is listed prominently in the records of the Jinshin no Ran and appears to have been one of the generals for Ohoama and the Yoshino faction in general. Less than a year later, on the 28th day of the 2nd month, Ki no Omi no Abemaro died and was posthumously awarded the rank of Daishi, which was 5th from the top in the old system of 26 ranks. A rather respectable rank, to be sure.
Later that same year we get a note that Ki no Omi no KATAmaro—another member of the family, apparently--was appointed, along with a “Prince Mino” as a commissioner for the erection of the Great Temple of Takechi.
Two years later, however, we get a record on the 22nd day of the 4th month of 676 that the sovereign, Ohoama, sent an order to the Governor of Mino telling him to let the children of Ki no Omi no Abemaro, resident in the district of Toki, be removed to the East country and become peasants in that country. On the face of it, this appears to be an incredible fall from grace. Ki no Omi no Abemaro is basically one of the top generals and heroes of the Jinshin no Ran, but his children are so unruly that they are banished to the East and stripped of their noble status? There has to be a story there, right?
Then in 679, on the 3rd day of the 2nd month, we are told that Ki no Omi no Katamaro died. For his service in the Jinshin War he received the posthumous rank of Upper Daikin. That would have been roughly the 7th rank—two below Ki no Abemaro. So was the Ki family back in the good graces of the court? What is going on?
First off, when we go to the original text, we see that Aston, whose translation of the Nihon Shoki we’ve been working on Ihas made an apparent error in translation. Remember, Aston was translating the Chronicles back in 1896, without the aid of modern computers, along with a lot of other research that has happened since then, and I can hardly fault him for missing things here and there. This is why, if you cannot check the original, you may want to also look at the new translation from John Bentley. Here we can see that he translates the name not as “Ki no Omi no Abemaro”, but rather that of “Ki no Omi no KASAmaro”. And if we compare Ki no Omi no KaSAmaro with the previous entry on Ki no Omi no KaTAmaro we can see that these are actually the exact same names except for a single character.
Which leads us to the question: Are these the same person, and the scribes simply miswrote one of the characters in the name? It may not even be on the Chroniclers so much as whatever texts they were, themselves, working on. This isn’t helped by the fact that we later on see another entry for Ki no KATAmaro, but that one uses character for “KATA”, meaning “hard”, using the kun’yomi, or Japanese reading, rather than using two phonetic characters in the on’yomi reading. So is this just another way to write “KATAmaro” or is this a different person altogether?
Ultimately, we cannot be entirely sure. It does seem wild that there would be two “Ki no Omi no Katamaro” at court at the same time and nobody otherwise distinguished the two. The question about KaSAmaro and KaTAmaro, and whose kids were sent into exile, is a bit harder to untangle.
And, truth be told, it is ultimately a minor point. We have only a couple of lines here, and maybe these passages will help illuminate something later in the histories, but for now, they are just fragments of the story of what was happening. Parts of the tattered tapestry from which the royal history was ripped out and restitched together, the rest of the story largely discarded, unless it made its way to us through other means.
The Chronicles may be flawed, but they are still our main source for the period, and while we might challenge individual items, we still get a glimpse at how things operated back at this time. For instance, if we look at the events happening around the New Year, we can see some common threads.
The New Year is an important tradition in many cultures. Whether it was a solar or lunar cycle—or some combination—the new year indicated a new cycle, and was often accompanied by associated symbols and rituals. Today in the US it is often celebrated with fireworks and champagne, followed by making resolutions for the new year. In Japan, people will often go to their local shrine or temple for an important first visit, and temple bells will ring out 108 times.
Another tradition is the osechi-ryori, the traditional new years foods. This has grown over time from a tradition of eating a large bowl of rice to various other foods that are seen as auspicious or having special properties, such as the hardening of teeth—a major concern before the era of modern dental hygiene! Then there are traditions such as the Kagami Biraki, or opening of the mirror, and the creation of special mochi, or rice cakes for the purpose.
Of course all of these traditions started somewhere and have evolved over time, so what do we know about the New Year celebrations during the late 7th century? One caveat: in the Chronicles, we only really see what was happening in the court, and the Yamato court at that. There may have been local traditions that others were following that, unless we find documentation about them, we likely would never know. But many of the court traditions were passed down to later generations. These traditions appear to include the giving of gifts; large, celebratory banquets; and the annual archery tournament.
Banquets are some of the first and most common things we see. We see a banquet as Ohoama assumed the throne in 673—which probably was the event that overshadowed anything else they might have done that year. The following year, 674, there doesn’t seem to have been much recorded, and I wonder if they were still pulling everything together after the turmoil of Ohoama’s ascension. And so it is that in the first month of 675 we really get to see the annual new year’s events in their full form.
On the second day of that year, from the Royal Princes on down, all of the public functionaries presented their respects to the sovereign. I suspect that this was a large ceremony, where everyone gathered in the courtyard of the palace together or something similar, not that each person individually went up and presented their respects—I doubt Ohoama would have wanted to sit through all of that. Also, as we’ve already seen, there were limits on what parts of the palace different functionaries were allowed to enter. So some of these well-wishers may have been “outside”, others in the courtyard, and others in the palace building itself, depending on their rank and importance in the bureaucratic hierarchy.
On the following day, all public functionaries, from the initial rank upwards, presented firewood. Aston notes that this is the first mention of what would become a yearly practice. Firewood may not seem like much, but it would have likely been important to keeping things running, especially given how early people were supposed to arrive at the palace and administrative complex each day. This wasn’t firewood for a fireplace—they didn’t have those—but probably would have been used either for cooking or, I suspect, for the large braziers that burned with wood and pitch to light the darkness, particularly in the winter months. Firewood could also be processed into smaller pieces of coal for other uses.
It is interesting that for the first ceremony, the Chronicles describe the court from the Royal Princes on down, while for the giving of firewood the order is from the initial—which is to say the lowest—ranks upwards. This could indicate the order in which things progressed in these cases.
Several days after that, on the 7th day of the first month, a banquet was given at court for the Ministers—so only the higher ranking functionaries. But ten days later, on the 17th, everyone of rank—the Ministers of State; the Daibu, or high officials; and all of the public functionaries from the initial rank upwards had an archery meeting in the Court of the Western Gate.
Archery and archery contests had been important to the Yamato people for ages—and the same on the continent. Confucius, in his day, suggested that archery was a martial skill that even nobles should cultivate. I believe we’ve noted before how archery could be used both for warfare and for just feeding your family. As such, it was considered a particularly useful skill for just about everyone to have. It probably also helped that it was a martial skill that noblemen and others could use to show off without actually risking any injury to themselves in the process. I’m just saying. And as we described at the top of the episode, this particular archery contest would, for both participants and spectators, likely have been a chance to show off the top of their game, whether in martial prowess, clothing, or behavior.
And since we are looking at the new year’s celebrations, let’s keep this going and look at later years in Ohoama’s reign. As I go through these you’ll start to see the patterns, where the events I’ve just described will generally recur year after year, but not identically, sometimes with a shuffle in the schedule.
In 676, we see that the Ministers and public functionaries pay their respects on the first day of the new year. On the 4th day, the sovereign granted gifts to the higher level officials, from Royal Prince Takechi, down to the high officials, or Daibu, of Shoukin rank. Their not so secret Santa gifts included robes, hakama, lined garments, obi for their waist, leg straps, and staves, or walking sticks. We are also told that everyone above the rank of Shoukin also got an armrest thrown in, as well. Further gifts or grants were given out several days later, on the 7th, to everyone from Shoukin on up, based on their individual circumstances. Then, on the 15th, we again see all of the functionaries present firewood and then they were all entertained at a court banquet.
The following day they held the annual new year’s archery contest, with prizes, at the court of the western gate. Those who hit the target received prizes of different values. In his recent translation of the Nihon Shoki, Bentley references Kuroita on Article 41 of Miscellaneous Statutes, saying that this archery event was apparently a regular new year’s occurrence, and even the prizes were noted as varying over time.
The same day they held the archery contest, that year, Ohoama held a banquet at the Shima Palace. Shima was the name given to the Soga Prime Minister, back in the day, so I assume that this was at or near the site of the old Soga residence?
In 677, by comparison, we don’t see nearly as much referenced. There is archery at the South Gate, vice the west gate, but that is it. The festivities in 678 similarly only talk about the archery at the south gate. There is also mention of a preparation for worshipping the kami of heaven and earth, for which a purification was held throughout the state. In addition, an abstinence palace, or saiguu, was erected on the bank of the Kurahashi river. Kurahashi appears to refer to a tributary of the Ohara river, in Sakurai. This feels less like a New Year’s celebration, however, and more like a sign of merit-making. The Saiguu would have likely been to prepare for a trip to Ise shrine, and three months later Ohoama was preparing to go to the Saiguu, but that is when Princess Towochi suddenly died, and they scuttled the plans.
In 679, the court greeted the New Year with a new decree. Ohoama declared that Princes, Ministers, and public functionaries—anyone in service to the government, basically, were to refrain from paying respects during New Years or other ceremonies to anyone except relatives of the grade of elder brother, elder sister, and above, or to the senior members of the Houses. Princes weren’t even to pay respects to their own mothers unless they were, themselves, princesses. Ministers were likewise not to pay respects to their mothers if they were of “mean” rank. In other words, if they were commoners.
These kinds of statutes are interesting. First of all, you ask yourself why? In all likelihood, there were various local traditions and individuals paid respects to their parents as well as to others to whom they owed respect for one reason or another. Here the State is ordering society such that there is a clear hierarchy, at least among the members of the court.   Since women often found advancement by marrying up, it was usual for one’s mother to have been born a lower rank in society than oneself. And so we see them enforcing the social order. That new order was based on Confucian concepts of hierarchy, and this seems to go along with those same ideas.
What we don’t really see is how this was enforced—if at all.
The day after that, the yearly archery competition took place at the West Gate of the palace.
The next year, 680, we see a New Year’s Banquet at the Court of the Great Hall. Ohoama himself occupied the Mukai-kodono, which appears to refer to one of the smaller wings. Based on the palace layout that we see in the posthole remains, this probably means that he was set up in the smaller wing, likely in a more intimate space, while most of the other guests were in the large hall, maintaining that crucial separation of sovereign and subjects.
This New Year’s archery event included Princes of the Blood all the way down to the rank of Shouken—the very lowest rank in the court—and it was held at the South Gate.
You may be noticing a pattern, that the archery competition is listed as being held at either the south or west gates. The south gate probably refers to the main gate of the later Okamoto—aka the Kiyomihara—palace. The West gate refers to the west gate of the Ebinoko enclosure.   We talked about these and the general layout of the palace back in Episode 134, and you can check out that podcast blog post for some images of what things looked like, as well.
These gates were on the north and east sides of a large, rectangular courtyard, which was likely the actual event location. So it isn’t as if these were separate areas, just a difference of where things were set up in what was otherwise the same relative space.
The following year, 681, we see similar ceremonies. We see offerings made to the kami of Heaven and Earth, and we once again see a note about various functionaries paying their respects at court. Even though this wasn’t mentioned every year, it could have been an annual thing and just wasn’t always recorded so the Chroniclers just wrote down what they had records for. There are certainly other things we don’t necessarily witness in the records, such as the annual promotions and promulgations. We see irregular promotions, of course, such as on someone’s passing, but the regular administration of the government and promotions of people to new positions is not something we really see regularly documented, since it doesn’t really shed much light on the sovereign and the royal household. And so we sometimes see things if they get mentioned, but otherwise we only see glimpses. That would change as records became more administrative and the histories were more about simply recording what was happening—though still from a particular angle. At this point, however, we aren’t dealing with a single court record, but rather with numerous records, stories, and recollections.
That same year, 681, we also see another banquet, with Ohoama situated in the Mukai no Kodono, while the Princes of the Blood and non-royal Princes were both introduced into the inner reception chamber. Ministers attended in the outer reception chamber. They all received sake and musical performances, and rank advancements were given out. Kusakabe no Kihi no Ohogata was graduated from the rank of Upper Daisen to Lower Daikin, and given the title of Naniwa no Muraji. A few days later, Sakahibe no Muraji no Iwazumi was granted a fief with 60 horses and received presents of coarse silk, floss silk, cloth, and one hundred mattocks—the last one being a rather interesting gift, I have to admit. Of course, in true Chronicles fashion, we have no idea why these gifts were made—we don’t even have another reference to Iwazumi around there, but he must have done something.
We are later told that there was the annual archery shoot, and then a decree, possibly unrelated to New Years, that the various provinces were ordered to repair the shrines to the kami of heaven and earth.
The year 682 is an anomaly. There is no mention of a banquet, nor of an archery tournament. I wonder if this may have to do with some of the sad events of that first month. While it started fine—Toneri no Miyatsuko no Nukamushi was raised from Daisen to Lower Shoukin—we are told that on the 18th, Lady Higami, one of Ohoama’s consorts, died in the palace. The next day there was an earthquake, and she was buried on the 27th. A prominent illness and death may have put a pall on the ceremonies, and could explain why we don’t see any mention of them for that year.
It is also possible that some of this New Year tradition had become so routine that people were no longer commenting on it, and therefore the Chroniclers weren’t including references to it.
The following year, in 683, we again see the functionaries paying their respects. We also see the presentation of a three legged sparrow by the Viceroy of Tsukushi, Tajihi no Mabito no Shima, along with others. A three legged sparrow would have been something: it is reminiscent of the three legged crow, often depicted in the sun. It is unclear if it was still alive, but that wasn’t the point. They invited the Princes of the Blood down to the Ministers to great hall, the Daigokuden, for a banquet, where the three legged sparrow was displayed.
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Later that month, Ohoama issued a decree in regards to all of the auspicious omens and made presents to everyone, from Shouken rank upwards. There was also a general amnesty—all crimes were pardoned, from capital offenses on down, and all forced labor was remitted, so that people didn’t have to provide the normal service. The phrasing for this particular entry is intriguing. Ohoama is mentioned as Yamato Neko Sumera no Mikoto and is specifically called a “God Incarnate”. This is one of the rare times that we see the Chronicles explicitly call out the sovereign as a living deity. Of course, they trace the royal lineage back to Amaterasu, but there isn’t a lot suggesting that the sovereign is necessarily a deity.
And in reality, this was probably something that was more honorific than anything else. Heck, at times in Japanese history we would see sovereigns selling their calligraphy to help keep the royal palace funded while warriors went around actually being in charge of things. However, this divine language did show up in the 19th and 20th century, especially as the Tennou, now called Emperor in English terminology, once again was recognized as the Head of State, and people would actually pray to him. Not necessarily like praying at a shrine, but out of respect. And remember, a lot of time the Tennou was kept out of sight of regular people and hidden, much like the way that the kami were treated. The concept of the Emperor’s divinity was very much tied up in the elevation of the State and the general sense of Nationalism that had gripped Japan in the early half of the 20th century. And so the allies quite explicitly had Emperor Showa renounce his divinity after Japan World War II.
Those studying Japanese history have probably heard of this concept, and so it is interesting to see evidence of it here, as well as the nature of the royal house, where the sovereign is kept at a distance from those of lower rank, unless they are directly serving him. But it was not as though the sovereign was a god in the sense of being all powerful. Even if he were considered a living, visible kami, the kami were not omnipotent, and there was no getting over the fact that our particular sovereign, Ohoama, was getting older. Only a year or so earlier, he had suffered a rather bad illness, so he clearly was not invincible. And it is of course possible that this language was simply royal exaggeration, rather than any attempt to define the sovereign as something more than he was. Still, that concept would continue to play a part throughout Japanese history.
The same day in 683 that Ohoama issued the pardons, we are told that there was a special performance at the Woharida Court of dance and music from Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla—the “Three Countries” of the Korean peninsula, even if only one of them was still going strong. The Woharida palace is thought to have been north, along the banks of the Asuka River. It may have been moved over time—there appears to have been a palace in the Furumiya area, near Toyoura, but there is also evidence of a palace by a shared name over by Ikazuchi-no-oka, on the other side of the river. Excavations at Ikazuchi no oka revealed pottery with the name of the palace, suggesting that this was the site, but even then, that pottery was from the later Tempyo era. Regardless, it seems that the Asuka valley was just chock full of palaces, new and old, though the older ones were not as regularly used for government functions, one assumes.
The following year, 684, we again get told about the annual archery shoot. It took place in the Eastern court this time, with Ministers in attendance. Apparently they had men skilled in archery shooting alongside palace attendants and little people—the word used in Japanese is “Shuju” or “Hikihito”. This word is often translated as “dwarf”; it appears to be a derogatory term for anyone considered short of stature, though it is also used to refer more generally to those seen as either lacking wit or to actors and performers.
This isn’t the first time we see the term. Back in 675, about 9 years prior, Ohoama had sent orders to a number of regions near the capital, from Awaji to Tamba, to Afumi and to Mino and Wohari, among others, to send as tribute common people who could sing, shuju—or dwarfs—and jugglers. More generally they seem to be referring to entertainers, and it strikes me that could be what is meant here. Either way, the entertainment industry was hardly a lucrative one, and we can see that performers are almost more of a commodity, to be “paid” as tribute, rather than a professional who is “hired” to work. I suspect that, as in many other times and places, individuals who were shorter than average often found work as entertainers in this sense—whether they wished it or not.
The year 685 we don’t see any mention of archery, though it probably still happened. Instead the Chronicles focus on the various government officials paying their respects to their sovereign. The rest of the entries for the month are largely concerned with changes to the rank system as of that year.
The year 686, we get the last records of various new years festivals—four months later, the sovereign would grow terribly ill, and he would eventually pass away later that year. However, for those still celebrating the new year in 686, that was all in the future.
The last year of Ohoama’s reign started out relatively like others. Ohoama went to the Daigokuden, the Great Hall of Audience, and gave a banquet to the Princes and High Officials. There he decided to have something of a riddle challenge. He would ask riddles, and then offer prizes for the correct answer.
And no, unfortunately we don’t have any of the riddles, at least that I have seen. Aston calls these “conundrums” and notes that they are specifically nonsensical questions, and provides examples such as “Why does a horse, after a rapid run, listen to the earth? Why does a dog, when he goes slowly, raise his leg?”
Ohoama’s son, Prince Takechi, answered correctly, and so did Prince Ise. Their prizes differed in content, but in both cases were pretty extensive. The winners received ceremonial robes, brocade or purple hakama, numerous bolts of coarse silk, many pounds of thread, hundreds of pounds of flossed Silk, and hundreds of bolts of cloth. I think that makes it quite a bit more lucrative than any of the quiz nights I’ve ever been to.
Later that month, there was another banquet, this time for nine Buddhist monks of Daikan-daiji. Besides its status as a national temple, this may have also been related to the year before, when Ohoama had fallen ill, and prayers had been offered at Daikandaiji for his recovery. The courthad likewise provided gifts to the temple in the last month of the previous year, and then, at the banquet, gave to the attending monks silk and cloth, based on their rank.
But that wasn’t the end of the gifts. The following day the Princes and High Officials all received upper garments and hakama—likely referring to official garments—each getting one suit, each. Then, on the 13th day of the new year, the court invited 20 exceptional individuals to a banquet. These were talented people, professors, divination specialists, and physicians. They were also wined and dined and presented various gifts. On the 16th day, the Princes and High Officials were then invited to a banquet in the Daigokuden. They were given gifts of silk and cloth, based on their rank. Then they held another riddle competition, with correct answers rewarded with gifts of coarse and flossed silk.
This was only a short time after disaster had struck, though a bit removed—two days earlier, in the evening, the royal storehouse at Naniwa had caught fire, eventually burning the entire Toyosaki palace complex to the ground. Some claimed that it was actually started at a private residence, that of Ato no Muraji no Kusuri, and then spread to the Palace. In the end, only the military storehouse was spared.
This would have been quite the tragedy for the government, but it did not halt the festivities happening down in Asuka. The Naniwa Palace appears to have been a major government center for the administration of the state, but it was not the royal court which had been in Asuka for over a decade. Indeed, I imagine that the news probably reached Asuka around the time of the Banquet itself.
And yet, rather than putting a damper on the festivities, they continued another couple of days – presumably everything was already prepared and there was no point in canceling. On the 17th, the court sponsored a banquet in the rear palace, presumably for the Queen and members of the imperial family. Then the following day there was a great revel at the palace. Ohoama took his place in front of the royal muro and made presents to performers, as well as to the singers. As before everything varied according to rank.
Asuka wasn’t the only place to get in on the festivities. The same month, the court also sponsored a banquet for the Silla envoys in Tsukushi, sending Prince Kawachi and others.
Regrettably, that would be the last new year that Ohoama would see. In the fifth month, he grew ill, and what we see in the Chronicles after that is an interesting look into how people of the time dealt with sickness.
First, the court had the Sutra of Yakushi expounded at Kawaradera and held a Buddhist retreat in the palace, inviting monks to come and expound Buddhist teachings. Yakushi, or Yakushi Nyorai—Bhaisajyaguru in Sanskrit—was known as the Medicine Buddha, and his name in Sinitic characters was basically “Master of Medicine”. It is said that he was responsible for the Eastern Pure Land, and that, as a Bodhisattva, he had made 12 great vows to cure the illnesses of all living beings in the world. For that reason, Yakushi Nyorai was often called upon to cure illness.
In fact, six years earlier, when the Queen, Uno no Sarara Hime, had taken ill, Ohoama erected an entire temple to Yakushi Nyorai, known as Yakushiji. He then had 100 people take vows as priests, and they attributed her recovery to this effort.
In this case, however, it seems that it didn’t have quite such an effect, and Ohoama remained under the weather. We are also told that the court sent Palace Attendants, the Oho-toneri, to clean the pagodas of various temples and that a general amnesty was announced for all under heaven, emptying the prisons. All of this points to the idea of making merit in the hope of bringing good karma, and thus healing.
But the following month, Ohoama was still ill. Divination was performed by the Onmyoji, the court diviners, and they claimed that there was a curse from Kusanagi, the sword that is considered one of the three main royal symbols. This is the sword that was said to have been found by Susanowo in the tale of Yamata no Worochi, and which gained its name, Kusanagi, when used by Yamato Takeru, cutting down the grass to save him when his enemies tried to catch him by setting fire to the field where he was hunting. For more on that, check out Episodes 34 and 35.
Given the importance of Kusanagi, I suspect that the idea of destroying it to remove the curse was out of the question, and so it was sent to Atsuta Shrine, where it was enshrined and would largely stay except when needed for enthronement ceremonies.
And yet, even after the sword was taken away, the illness remained. Six days later, on the 16th day of the 6th month, the court sent Prince Ise and officials to Asukadera and asked the monks there to make and oath with the Buddha to make Ohoama whole through the power of the Three Treasures of Buddhism.   For their work, the three Buddhist Officers, the Master of the Law, and the Upadhyaya and temple directors, as well as those monks with the rank of “master” each received a donation of one robe and one cover, or “Ohi”.
Three days later, the court ordered the hundred officials to go to Kawaradera and perfom the ceremony of lighting lanterns and giving offerings to Buddha. Then they held a great feast and offered repentance for their transgressions. All of this sounds like a continued attempt to make merit for the state, and thus for Ohoama.
We then see the court granting the monks Hounin and Gishou 30 stipend-households to provide for them in their old age, which may be more merit-making, or possibly was related to some of the many other activities so far. There are a few issues with this entry, and Aston and Bentley don’t seem to agree on the actual date. Bentley has it on the 28th, but that seems odd as it comes before the entry for the 22nd of the same month. Aston has it as the 20th, but then claimes that there is something odd about the date of the 22nd.
On the 22nd, we are simply told that the district kitchen of Nabari caught fire. Aston notes that this would have been the official government arm in the district gathering food to supply the royal household—rather than being a kitchen in terms of a place to prepare food.
Merit-making continued into the 7th month. We see the Soujou and Soudzu, the primary and secondary prelates of the Asukadera, performing ritual repentance. The following day there is another general amnesty, and Aston specifically mentions performing a Oho-harai, or cleansing.
The day after taxes were halved from the provinces and corvee labor with local conscripted labor was exempted for the year. Then we see the court presenting paper offerings to the Kunikasu Kami in Ki provinces, as well as the four shrines in Asuka and the Great Suminoe—aka Sumiyoshi—shrine.
On the 8th day of the 7th month, 100 monks were invited to the court to read the Golden Light Sutra—Konkoymyou kyou. And on the 15th there was another court issued amnesty.
Despite all of these attempts to make merit and intercede with the Buddha or with various kami, Ohoama’s illness continued. We see that the court issued a decree that all things that should occur, great or small, should be reported to the queen and the crown prince—presumably because Ohoama was no longer in a state to be able to do so.
Continuing with their efforts, the court declared that destitute commoners who had been forced to borrow rice seed or money before the 12th month of the previous year would be exempted from repayment. And then the court changed the name of the year to Akami-tori, or Shuuchou. They also renamed the palace in Asuka to “Kiyomihara”—again, go check Episode 134 for more on the palace. “Shuuchou” is the Red Bird, likely referring to Suzaku, though Aston also points out that “Asuka” here is given as “flying bird”, as well, and there had been numerous bird-related omens reported throughout the reign.
Although these names would not have been used prior to this point—the 7th month of the final year of the reign—the Chroniclers applied the nengo, Shuuchou, to all of the entries for this year, and the name of the palace is often given as “Kiyomihara” is given to distinguish it from the Later Okamoto Palace, even though it was simply the latter palace with the addition of the Ebinoko enclosure.
The changing of the era name was likely another attempt to change the seemingly inauspicious year, along with all of the merit-making that the court had been undergoing.
And yet they kept going.
The court selected 70 people who were diligent in keeping Buddhist laws and had them take the tonsure, and they sponsored a feast—or festival—in the Royal Muro of the Palace.
At the same time the various princes had a statue of the Boddhisatva of Compassion, Kannon, made for the sovereign and had the Lotus sutra—the sutra where Kannon is first mentioned—read out at Daikandaiji.
Kannon, or Avalokitesvara, was originally seen as a male Boddhisatva, but is often depicted as a woman. They are also known as Guanyin, from which we get Kannon in Japanese. Guanyin is also seen as Goddess of Mercy, and is one of the most popular figures across multiple sects of Buddhism and even outside of the Buddhist faith, where she is still seen as a goddess. In this case, however, it seems clear that the princes were seeking compassion to relieve the sovereign of his affliction.
And yet it persisted.
They had 80 more people take the tonsure, and then 100 more men and women, placed 100 statues of the Boddhisatva, Kannon, in the palace, and then read out 200 volumes of the Lotus Sutra.
And then they made prayers to the kami of Heaven and Earth. And they dispatched Hata no Imiki no Iwakatsu to present paper offerings to the Tosa great shrine. Nothing seemed to be working.
In the 9th month, we see the royal princes and others, down to the various ministers, all gathered at Kawaradera making oaths for the health of the sovereigns. This last ditch effort would go unrewarded. Five days later, and Ohoama would pass away. Of course, they couldn’t just say that he died: The Chronicles actually say that he divinely departed. After all, didn’t they call him an incarnate kami?
Two days later, the court began the ritual of mourning, raising voices in lamentation, and setting up a temporary palace of interment in the courtyard, south of the palace. Ohoama’s body was placed there some thirteen days later, and people mourned his passing.
For the rituals, we see monks and nuns performing ritual lamentation in the courtyard between 3 and 5 am, around the time that court officials would normally be waiting at the gates. Over the next several days, various ceremonies were held and eulogies given. We are told that the court presented offerings of food for the dead for the first time, and over the next several days monks and nuns would offer their laments and then various individuals would provide their eulogies. Finally, on the last day of the ninth month, the eulogies concluded with Nyang-u, a Baekje prince, who pronounced a eulogy on behalf of his father, and then the Miyatsuko of various provinces came and did likewise. There were also performances of all manner of singing and dancing.
With that, the reign of Ohoama would come to an end. The government would continue under his wife, the Queen, and Crown Prince. We’ll get into the succession in a later episode. For now I’ll just say that he was eventually buried in a large tomb in the modern Noguchi area of Asuka, and you can still go see it.
And while that does bring us to the end of the reign, we still have a few more things that I want to discuss.   This episode just seemed a good time to talk about all of the various new years ceremonies, and that seemed to lead naturally into the very last year, but there is still more to discuss. For one thing, we still haven’t quite covered the spread of Buddhism and the changes in the structure. There are also various laws and punishments that are worth covering. Finally, there are the Chronicles themselves: we’ve talked about it all along, but the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki are attributed to this era, as is the start of what would become the capital of Fujiwara-kyo—many works that Ohoama would not live to see to the end, but is largely held responsible for starting.
But 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.
Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
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
Suzuki, Hiroyuki (2010). 日本古代の弓矢行事～特に歩射行事に関して～ On the Shooting Ritual of Ancient Japan ～About Shooting Ritual where it walks～. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/58124ac8579fb3f8ea46dc1b/t/587c1e10e3df288ed10be9d9/1484529173995/2010_Suzuki.pdf
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4.

New Year's Recap 2026

January 1, 2026 Joshua Badgley

Kinojo - The demon’s castle. Built in the 7th century in the land of Kibi (modern Okayama). While not mentioned in the record, it is the kind of Baekje style fortress that was being erected in Japan following the naval defeat at the Battle of Baekgang River. Photo of the modern reconstruction by author.

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Asukadera, aka Hōkōji (飛鳥寺・法興寺)

Kudara Ōdera, aka Takechi Ōdera, aka Daikandaiji (百済大寺・高市大寺・大官大寺)

Kawaradera (川原寺)

Yakushiji (薬師寺)

Rough Transcript

References

On the Archery Tournament of the New Year

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Rough Transcript

References