Episode 70: End of an Era

August 16, 2022 Joshua Badgley

Model of a reconstruction of a Korean style fortress built in the 7th century in Kibi, some 200 years after “Kinouhe” is recorded as having been built.

Who’s Who

Wohatsuse Wakasazaki

The son, it is said, of Ōke, aka Ninken Tennō, and Kasuga no Ōiratsume, herself a daughter of Ōhatsuse Wakatake, aka Yūryaku Tennō, If that is his parentage, he likely was born between 482, when his father was brought to Yamato, and 494, when he had to have been born to be named Crown Prince.

There are later entries in the Nihon Shoki and other sources that would suggest he was born around 450—but that would have been around the time of Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune. There are definitely questions about this entry.

Heguri no Matori

Current Ōmi (大臣) at the start of Wakasazaki’s reign. Descendant (possibly the son or grandson) of Heguri no Dzuku no Sukune, previous Ōmi and son of the legendary Takeuchi no Sukune.

Ōtomo no Muruya

Ōmuraji of the Ōtomo family, appointed at the end of the reign of Wakatake to help his son, Shiraga. He is mentioned in the reign of Wakasazaki, but there is some confusion as to whether or not it is him or Kanamura. This may be an indication that the years for this reign aren’t quite right.

Ōtomo no Kanamura

Kanamura pops up in this reign. The last Otomo no Ōmuraji was Ōtomo no Muruya, who was tasked with assisting Shiraga, aka Seinei Tennō, in governing the land. There is an assumption that Kanamura is his descendant, but it isn’t clear, other than they are both of the same family.

Kudara no Otara (aka Itarang of Baekje)

Otara, or Itarang (百済意多郎), is only briefly mentioned. Aston suggests “Witanang”, using modern Korean reading. He is often known by the modern Japanese reading, though that probably was not how it is pronounced at the time. The other part, “Kudara”, is literally a reading of the characters for “Baekje”, though it is unclear exactly how that reading came to be used in Japan. It isn’t even clear to me that the Chroniclers themselves would have used that reading.

Donseong of Baekje

King of Baekje from about 479 to 501 or 502. He attempted to strengthen Baekje after the move to Unjin. The Samguk Sagi appears to blame his fall on his clack of concern during a famine around 499, though he may also have fallen afoul of local politics. He was killed in 501 or 502.

Muryeong of Baekje

King of Baekje from about 501 to 523. The Nihon Shoki claims that he was born on the way to Yamato, and thus was given the name “Shima”, meaning “island” in Japanese. The Korean sources have his personal name as something like “Syeoma”, though no indication that it means something similar. Unfortunately, the language of Baekje is not well attested, so it is hard to tell what it might actually mean.

Early Castles

One of the entries from this period is the creation of a castle, named “Kinouhe” (城上). This would actually seem to refer to the area “above” a castle. It was apparently built in “Minamata”, but where exactly this is is unclear. Regardless, I suspect it was in the style of early peninsular castles. From what I can tell, this would have included rammed earth walls, though possibly made of stone. These were probably more like walled garrisons.

Some of the peninsular castles specifically utilized the terrain, often being built on mountaintops. They would use natural features and simply enhance it with walls and gates. Later we see more traditional rectangular walls around cities and the like. The character used for “castle” in Japanese just meant “city walls” or “walled settlement” when it came over from the continent. As such, “Ki no Uhe” could refer to a fortress or to walls around a settlement of some kind—though probably still the rammed earth and stone walls, rather than simply a palisade or similar.

Many of these features were built up again and again over time, or perhaps have disappeared into the landscape. Some of these walls are still found on occasion. In 2016, excavations were performed on the site of the old Naseong City Walls, uncovering the walls thought to have been built around 538 to protect the new Baekje capital. Today, this is part of the larger Baekje Historical Area that is considered a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. This is episode 70: The End of an Era.
Content warning up front: This episode catalogues a lot of senseless and even psychopathic violence, against both men and women, including forced abortions and sexual assault. I will do my best to present the information respectfully, and we’ll put most of it at the end of the episode, with a warning so anyone who wants can stop after we cover the more relevant part of the reign.
Last episode we talked about Wohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou, and how he came to the throne at an apparently extremely young age. Tradition says he was as young as 10 years old… but we’ll talk about that.
As I mentioned, this episode will be split into two parts. First, we will cover various events regarding Yamato that are recorded as having happened during the eight years of Wakasazaki’s reign, most of them having to do with Yamato’s relationship with the Korean peninsula and events happening over there. Then I’ll cover the other stories—those outlining his apparent sociopathic tendencies. I’ll be blunt: the Chronicles contain some very, very nasty stories about Wakasazaki, and indeed paint him as unredeemably evil. If Wakatake had numerous accounts which didn’t show him in a good light, Wakasazaki is something else altogether. And we do have to ask the question of whether these are accurate stories, or whether there were other things going on that led the Chroniclers to paint such a scathing picture.
One of the first questions I have, however, is the question of how old Wakasazaki was when he came to the throne, when he died, and what the situation was with the royal lineage at the time. As noted, tradition states he was 10 years old when he came to throne, and if he reigned for about 8 years, as the Nihon Shoki claims, then he would have been about 18 at the end of his reign.
On the other hand, the Nihon Shoki at one point says that Wakasazaki was not actually 18 when he died, but instead that he was 57. Kitabatake Chikafusa likely pulled on this when he wrote in the Jinnou Shouki that Wakasazaki died at the age of 58. Chikafusa doesn’t talk about any of the other acts that are said to have taken place, but instead focuses on connecting Wakasazaki’s evil acts with the downfall of Ohosazaki’s lineage—that’s right, spoiler alert, Wakasazki would be the last sovereign claiming descent from Ohosazaki—which is why I mentioned last episode how interesting it is to me that they both use “Sazaki” in their names, rather like an overly convenient pair of bookends. We’ll talk about this more at the end of the episode as we explore just why the Chroniclers didn’t exactly stan Wakasazaki.
So keep that in mind as we look at this reign and the scorn that is heaped upon it.
One thing to consider as we read through the Nihon Shoki is that the Chroniclers operated under the assumption that all reigns were linear—that there was only ever one sovereign was on the throne at a time. According to Kishimoto’s classification of kofun, the secondary line of kofun appears to have died out in the late 5th century, with the kofun he identifies with Wakatake, who supposedly died in 479. The main line of kofun, which share characteristics back to Hashihaka, believed by some, yours truly included, to be the tomb of Himiko herself, continued into the early part of the 6th century, overlapping with a new line, identified with changes in the kofun structure.
So it is possible that there was, for a time, members of this older and newer dynasty both alive—and possibly co-ruling—at the same time.
I mention this mainly because it is possible that Wakasazaki was around for more than the 8 years given for his reign. What if he did live until his 50s? Or at least longer than age 18. What if he wasn’t the son of Ohoke? There are so many what ifs and not enough answers. And I suspect the Chroniclers weren’t too concerned with challenging any of that. After all, Wakasazaki being an evil bastard that ended the dynasty of the virtuous Ohosazaki fit nicely into the worldview of the time—and as humans we love simple stories. It is so much easier when things are black and white—right and wrong—good and evil.
But enough of that—let’s take a look at this reign.
So we left off with Wakasazaki calling on Ohotomo no Kanamura to help destroy Heguri no Matori no Oho-omi and his son, Shibi no Omi. He then took his place on the throne, ascending in Namiki, in Hatsuse.
That was in 499.
In 501, we are told that he had Ohotomo no Muruya call up a levy of laborers in the land of Shinano—modern Nagano prefecture—in order to build a castle, called Kinouhe, in the village of Minomata.
As a side note, Aston notes that Ohotomo no Muruya had been made Ohomuraji in the reign of Wakatake, and tasked with assisting Shiraga, so surely he wasn’t still alive and they instead meant Kanamura, the current Ohomuraji. And that may be the case. Then again, this entry could be misplaced, especially if the dates for this reign—and Wakasazaki’s actual age—aren’t exactly correct.
But what’s more important about this bit is that this appears to be the first time that we’ve seen any discussion of actual castle building in the archipelago, at least outside of the truly legendary tales. We’ve seen hastily constructed inaki, or rice castles, a time or two, and there has certainly been discussion of castles on the Korean peninsula, but this appears to be the first record of a permanent castle on the islands.
Of course, when we say “castle”, we should set some expectations. Japanese castles certainly were never the kind of stone keeps found in Europe, but these early castles were even distinct from those that you might imagine, like Matsumoto or Himeji, which generally date to the Sengoku era or later.
Early castles in the archipelago were probably little more than earthen walls, likely built up around natural features, like the sides of a mountain or hill, though it doesn’t have to be a mountaintop. They probably would have been based on Baekje—or at least peninsular—traditions. There were a number of Baekje style fortresses built in the 7th century to defend from a supposed invasion from the continent, but what would this one have been built for? Nagano isn’t exactly on an invasion route, after all.
But then again, it might not have been built anywhere near Nagano. Given that the levy was raised in Shinano, one might assume that is where the work was conducted. However, there appear to be some suggestions that the castle may have instead been built in the Nara Basin, near modern Kawai, but the information is fairly sparse and I wasn’t able to find any good reasoning behind it, but it is as good as anything else at the moment.
Could this have indicated a desire to strengthen military defenses in Yamato? If so, was there some sort of military threat? Or was it, instead, a projection of more militant authority? Were the fortifications part of some kind of pacification or militarizing effort? Unfortunately, there is not a lot to go on, in terms of actual incidents, but it does nag at me that Wakasazaki was later given the posthumous title of Buretsu, or Martial Merit—perhaps there was more going on than the Chroniclers cared to share.
That said, the possible connection to Baekje and the continent, through this potentially Baekje style fortress, is a theme that continues in the account of Wakasazaki’s reign, as later that year one Otara—or possibly Itarang—of Baekje died and was buried on Takada Hill. This is not a name I could find earlier in the Chronicles, but if they are referencing him, here, it is likely he was a noble or even a member of the royal family—perhaps a prince, like those who had been sent over in past reigns.
If so, then it may have been important because of the events of 502, when the Chronicles tell us that King Donseong of Baekje was deposed and Prince Shima was raised up to be the king known as Muryeong—coincidentally, another ruler from this period whose posthumous title uses the same Bu/Mu character as in Buretsu, meaning brave or martial.
This entry is dated a year later than the same events in the Samguk Sagi, but they appear to generally align. Prince Shima—or Syeoma—by the way was mentioned back in episode 62. His mother, one of King Gaero’s own consorts, had been sent with Lord Kun to attend the Yamato court, but he was born on the journey, his mother giving birth on Kahara island—hence his name: Shima. This story feels quite apocryphal, to me, once again asserting a Yamato role in internal Baekje politics.
The Chronicles then tell us that two years later, in 504, Baekje sent its first emissary to Yamato in some time: possibly since the death of Otara, and possibly earlier. This embassy also was late from the perspective that a new dynasty had come to power and it took them two or more years to reach out to their neighbor and ally. Finally, on top of all that, the emissary they sent, a Lord Mana, was apparently just a regular noble, which was apparently a diplomatic faux pas, as the Yamato Court expected the head of the delegation to be at least someone of royal blood. Yamato decided to hold Mana hostage, and would not let him return until the new King of Baekje went ahead and sent a new envoy, Prince Shika, the following year, in 505. Prince Shika apparently had all the proper bona fides, and it seems that good relations were reestablished.
While in Yamato, Shika would have a son, Peopsa, who apparently stayed on in Yamato and became an ancestor of the Yamato no Kimi.
The following year, in 506, Wakasazaki died in the Namiki palace. He had no heirs, though he had created the Wohatsuse Toneri as a familial group to ensure some legacy. Still, none of them were of royal blood.
And those are the events that probably did happen during this reign, much of them probably coming from the copy of the Baekje annals available to the court, or possibly through family records, such as that of the Yamato no Kimi. The Samguk Sagi, I’d note, doesn’t really have any clear evidence of dealings with the Wa at this time, and are much more focused on intra-penninsular conflicts, once more indicating that Yamato’s direct influence on the continent appears to have waned.
So, after 8 years on the throne, Wakasazaki passed away. We are told that he had no heirs: although the Kojiki makes it sound like he had a brother, that is ignored by our other sources, and in any case all sources agree that there was no heir. The line of Ohosazaki—aka Nintoku Tennou—died out with Wakasazaki, and the royal lineage had to be picked up from somewhere else.
We’ll get to how that happened when we talk about the next sovereign, but I wanted to mention all of this because it may explain why there is so much that doesn’t make sense in this reign, not to mention the bad rap Wakasazaki gets.
And maybe it was deserved. After all, if they put a ten year old child on the throne and he was ruling through his teenage years, dying at the age of 18, what would you expect? If a young person really were given the reins of power, and people did whatever they wanted, then there just might have been some pretty grotesque things done.
On the other hand, Chikafusa goes with the idea that he is much older—taking the throne when he is 50. He then goes on and doesn’t talk about any of the other acts that are said to have taken place, but instead focuses on connecting Wakasazaki’s evil acts with the downfall of Ohosazaki’s lineage.
Before that, though, he quotes from The Spring and Autumn Annals, a classical work, ascribed to Confucius, chronicling the State of Lu from the 8th to 5th century BCE, and often used as a reference to help describe proper statecraft. Chikafusa pulls a quote about how the line of a virtuous sovereign—in this case Ohosazaki, or Nintoku—will last for a hundred generations. And yet, the various histories are replete with examples where lineages and dynasties die out, which is often attributed to a sovereign who lacks virtue.
Chikafusa then recalls Buddhist history in India, where the reign of Ashoka—often depicted as the model Buddhist king—eventually gives way, three generations later, to a ruler who loses the Mauryan dynasty, which is again blamed on a lack of virtue.
And while Kitabatake is of course writing many centuries later—and much of it from his prodigious memory—he’s drawing on the same lessons that the Chroniclers themselves were likely using to judge a sovereign and their virtue. This all hearkens back to the continental concept of the Mandate of Heaven. That is to say that Heaven will bless sovereigns who rule well, but that inept and unjust rulers risk losing the Mandate of Heaven, which will then pass to another dynasty.
That political philosophy contains a rather insidious line of thought, not dissimilar to the idea of the prosperity gospel in the West. The idea that good things will happen if someone is good and bad things will happen if someone is bad. It is a comforting thought, and appeals to our sense of justice, but unfortunately history shows that things don’t tend to work like that. People are complicated, and bad things happen to good people all the time for no particular reason. Likewise, people can acquire power and wealth through less than scrupulous means and get to die in their sleep—sometimes even praised for what they have accomplished.
But to the Chroniclers and later scholars, ideas like the Mandate of Heaven were often seen as a nearly immutable law, and it would not be the first time that facts were tainted through the lens of a supposed universal truth.
Of course, the Sinic philosophical construct of the Mandate of Heaven had to be slightly modified for the archipelago, given the assertion, at least in the 8th century, that the sovereign had to be descended from the original Heavenly grandchild, but it still held for various branches of that family. And so we see that very logic here—Wakasazaki ended the Ohosazaki dynasty because he was evil; and we know Wakasazaki was evil because he was the last of the Ohosazaki dynasty. Similarly, whoever followed must be a descendant of the Heavenly grandchild, in one way or another, regardless of whether there was anything firmly connecting them to that birthright.
Compare all of this to the way that the Chroniclers depicted Ohohatsuse Wakatake. He is clearly seen as mean and cruel, killing his own siblings based on the flimsiest of excuses, and murdering people because they didn’t immediately go along with his suggestions to change things up. And yet, he’s not the death of the dynasty and is actually depicted as leaving things in a pretty good state of affairs, all things considered.
And so let’s keep this all in mind as we go ahead and dive into the depravities that Wakasazaki is said to have committed, though I really do feel like these might be little more than character assassination. They seem to have just been dropped into the records, with not quite one per year.
Speaking of which, this concludes much the family friendly part of this episode—and probably the historically relevant part as well. In the next few episodes I’ll probably take a pause and survey what has been happening in other areas, outside the archipelago.
Also a quick reminder that if this is not your bag, feel free to stop here. None of these episodes really contain anything that you would need for later. So let me pause for those who want to nope out, now.
(Pause)
Still with us? Then let’s go.
So the first thing we find in the Nihon Shoki is in 500, and it is pretty disturbing if true. Traditional dating would say that Wakasazaki was about 12 years old, and we are told that he had a pregnant woman cut open so that he could inspect the womb. Which is just so many levels of not okay.
First, when I read something like this, I have to wonder who was enabling such behavior. It is one thing with grown adult tyrants, who have consolidated their power into absolute rule, but for a 12 year old child that was, until recently, overseen by a regent? Was Ohotomo no Kanamura helping him with this and just indulging his whims? It is easy to simply point to one individual and say it is their fault, but what about all those around them? This is important to realize in any system—rarely is anything accomplished in a vacuum.
That said, this probably never happened. Aston notes that it looks like a similar charge levied against a King of Shang in the Classics. This is an example of how the Chroniclers might pick and choose known stories and place them into the Chronicles, just as they also took various speeches and descriptions and used them elsewhere in the text.
Granted, some of the other entries seem more mundane, but just as likely to be pulled from elsewhere. So in 501 we are told that he plucked out men’s fingernails and then made them dig up yams with their raw, bloody hands—possibly as some kind of criminal punishment, but possibly just to watch them suffer.
Then, in 502, he pulled the hair of men’s heads and made them climb to the tops of trees, which were then cut down so that the men in them died in the fall. In 503, he made men lie down on their faces in the sluice of a dam, so that they would be washed away. As that happened, he stabbed them with a three-bladed lance—perhaps some kind of trident-like thing?
In 505, he again made men climb up into trees. This time, though, he had them shot.
Bentley suggests these may have been in imitation of charges levied against King Dongseong, of Baekje, though reading through the Samguk Sagi’s account there isn’t much mentioned until they reach the end of the reign, where a comment talks about how he ignored any kind of criticism, and he feasted with his nobles in the midst of a terrible drought. Then there were various other signs of disaster, but nothing like what we see in the Nihon Shoki, so I wonder if they are actually related or not. Regardless, it is unclear just where these might have been pulled from.
Finally, there is one last episode that I won’t even recount in full. Essentially it has Wakazaki, in 506, torturing multiple women with sexual violence, for no apparent reason other than his own curiosity as to how they would react. For those who are interested, you can find the full account in the Nihon Shoki, though even Aston chose to translate it into Latin—though that probably has more to do with the fact that it contains direct mentions of female nudity and sexual violence. If you do choose to go looking, just be warned.
But for now, I think this is a rather good stopping point at the moment. It is the end of the Nintoku dynasty at the start of the 6th century. From here we’ll head into the lineage that should take us right through to the end of the Kofun period, but first we might want to quickly discuss what else is happening and provide some context.
Until then, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com. It is always great to hear from people and ideas for the show.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7.
Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 69: A Deadly Serious Poetry Battle

August 1, 2022 Joshua Badgley

Modern marker at the traditional site of Wakasazaki’s Namiki palace in Ha(tsu)se. Photo by Takanuka, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

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Who’s Who

Wohatsuse Wakasazaki

Heguri no Matori

Current Ōmi (大臣), Descendant (possibly the son or grandson) of Heguri no Dzuku no Sukune, previous Ōmi and son of the legendary Takeuchi no Sukune.

Shibi no Omi

A powerful courtier—either the son of Heguri no Matori no Ōmi or else an ancestor of the Heguri no Omi. The only thing that seems consistent is that he had a crush on the same girl that a soon-to-be-sovereign.

Kage Hime

The daughter of Mononobe no Arakahi. Arakahi was the son of Masara, son of Itabi, at least according to the Sendai Kuji Hongi. There, Arakahi was made Ōmuraji after 534, two reigns after Wakasazaki. He was the son of Masara no Ōmuraji, who was given that title during Wakasazaki’s reign. He in turn was the son of Itabi no Ōmuraji, who was appointed during the reign of Ōke, aka Ninken Tennō, and therefore likely the current Ōmuraji at the beginning of Wakasazaki’s reign. That would seem to have her at quite a young age at the start of Wakasazaki’s reign, but not impossibly so.

Ōtomo no Kanamura

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 69: A Deadly Serious Poetry Battle.
This is going to be a short one. A quick look at the start of the next reign, following up with more next episode. For now we’ll introduce this next sovereign and a touch on his somewhat tumultuous rise to power at rather young age.
First, though, to recap: in the last couple episodes we’ve covered the sovereigns who followed Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku Tennou. These included Shiraga, aka Seinei Tennou, Woke, aka Kenzou Tennou, and his elder brother, Ohoke, aka Ninken Tennou. After the elder brother, Ohoke’s, death, there was apparently only one male heir left: Wohatsuse Wakasazaki, who would eventually be given the monicker of Buretsu—or Muretsu—Tennou. As Crown Prince, he was next in line to the throne, but given the description of his reign, I think he may perhaps be the most maligned sovereign in the Chronicles so far. I mean, sure, the description of Wakatake was hardly complimentary, but much of his capricious violence would not seem out of place for a ruler who was likely heavily involved in martial pursuits. Besides, there is also the method by which he rose to the throne, implying he was quite comfortable with violence.
Wakasazaki, on the other hand, is simply depicted as cruel. The account starts with a Chinese passage, lifted directly from an account of Emperor Ming Ti of the Later Han dynasty. As Aston translates it: “When he grew to manhood he was fond of criminal law and well versed in the statutes. He would remain in Court until the sun went down so that hidden wrong was surely penetrated. In deciding cases, he attained to the facts.” The record goes on to add that he also “worked much evil” and never accomplished any good thing. This is also attested to in the Sendai Kuji Hongi, where they use the same language, but then the Nihon Shoki takes it one step further and sprinkles accounts of Wakasazaki’s atrocities throughout the narrative.
John Bentley, in his translation of the Sendai Kuji Hongi suggests that many of these episodes were added in later by the compilers of the Nihon Shoki, likely taken from elsewhere, and possibly borrowing some themes from the rule of a near contemporary in Baekje, King Dongseong, who was eventually overthrown and killed by his own subjects in either 501 or 502.
Was Wakasazaki really so bad? We’ll take a look and by the end of the next episode, maybe you can decide for yourself.
Now, as you may recall from last episode, Wakasazaki’s father, Ohoke no Ohokimi, aka Ninken Tennou, died in 498. None of our primary sources mention Ohoke’s age, though later sources agree that he was 50 years old when he passed away. We do know that 456 is when his father was killed and he and his younger brother went into exile. That was 42 years earlier, and therefore he would have been about 8 years old at the time if he was 50 when he died, so that seems to line up. His younger brother assumed the throne in 484 and passed away in 487, presumably aged 38, making him about 7 at the time, which seems to fit with everything else.
So when was Wakasazaki born, and why do we care? Well, there is no specific date given, but some sources claim that he was 10 years old when came to throne. That seems extremely young, given the stories we have, but not unthinkable—in later centuries there would be even younger children, with crown prince Tokohito invested at the ripe old age of two, becoming known as the unfortunate Antoku Tennou. That was certainly a different time, however.
If Wakasazaki was 10 years old, that would put his birth around 488 or 489, just after his father had come to the throne, himself. He was named Crown Prince in 494, when he was six years old. None of this is too unreasonable, assuming other dates are correct. Likewise I figure it is unlikely he was born before 482, when his father and uncle were brought to the court—or if he was there may be some questions as to why his mother, presumably Kasuga no Ohoiratsume, daughter of Wakatake, would have married a servant in Akashi. So if we assume everything else is correct, he must have been between 10 and 16 years of age when he took the throne—probably on the younger side of that. Since he would only reign for eight years, that begs the question about any quote claiming to describe him when he “came of age”—just what age are we talking about? Granted, people in the past often had different ideas of what constituted adulthood, and many people described as adults would have still been in high school or middle school, today.
Still, he was probably not considered an adult when his father died, and the country of Yamato therefore fell into a kind of Receivership, with the Prime Minister, or Oho-omi, taking the reigns of government.
This Oho-omi we’ve discussed before. His name was Heguri no Matori. The Heguri family claimed descent through Dzuku no Sukune, son of the legendary Takeuchi no Sukune, the first to take the title of Oho-omi. Heguri no Dzuku no Sukune had helped Izaho Wake, aka Richuu Tennou, escape with his life. Later, Heguri no *Matori* had been made Oho-omi in the reign of Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, who had also given him charge, along with Ohotomo no Muruya, of helping Wakatake’s son, Shiraga, govern the land. See episodes 38, 54, 64, and 65.
And so it is not surprising that he would step up to fill in the gap as regent while young Wakasazaki was still coming of age. We’ve seen regents in the past, though notably in cases where it is a member of the royal family, such as Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou. Here, however, Matori’s motives are called out and he is accused of usurping the throne, using his guardianship of Wakasazaki as an excuse and claiming to do things in his name, such as building Wakasazaki a palace and then using it as his own.
And that certainly would not be unheard of throughout history for a regent to take liberties and even do what they could to keep their status, such as forcing them to abdicate in favor of a younger heir to keep the regent in power. But is that what was going on, or was it something else?
Well there is definitely a bigger story, and it is almost entirely in the Nihon Shoki. According to that one source the young Wakasazaki—whom I would remind you is traditionally ten years old—decided that he would marry Kage Hime, daughter of Mononobe no Arakahi—a figure we will here more about in the future, as he was quite prominent in the future. Right now, though, it was likely his grandfather, Itabi, and father, Masara, who were leading the Mononobe, a fact I’ll come back to in a bit.
The problem that Wakasazaki would run into, however, had nothing to do with Kage Hime’s parentage, however, and everything to do with the fact that she was already seeing somebody: Shibi no Omi. Or, more properly, Heguri no Sibi no Omi, son of none other than the prime minister himself, Heguri no Matori no Oho-omi. Given that Matori had been a figure in the upper eschelons of the court since at least the end of Wakatake’s reign, I wonder how old his son was—but I suspect considerably more than 10 years old.
Now the Nihon Shoki claims that this tryst between Kage and Shiba was an illicit affair, though I’m not sure why that would have been except that Wakasazaki desired her. Still, when Wakasazaki sent a middleman to arrange a meeting with her, Kage Hime agreed, apparently too frightened of what might happen if she said no. She agreed to meet with him in a certain street.
Wakasazaki requested that Matori prepare horses for him to head out, and Matori agreed, but then did nothing—presumably because he already knew about Kage Hime and his son, Shibi no Omi. Wakasazaki fumed over the delay, but quietly, and he eventually made his way over to the place of assignation on his own. Once there, he joined the poets who were making up poems on the spot, which was sometimes called an “utagaki”, or poetry hedge.
When Kage Hime showed up, Wakasazaki tugged at the hem of her sleeve to get her attention. He was thinking of nothing in particular—or at least, nothing besides Kage Hime, when someone came between them and pushed young Wakasazaki away. This was none other than Shibi no Omi, son of Matori. Wakasazaki was having none of this, and he apparently recognized Shibi no Omi. He got in Shibi’s face and immediately threw down the proverbial gauntlet in true Ancient Japanese/West Side Story fashion by singing out an impromptu piece of poetry, punning on the name “Shibi”:
しほせの　なをりをみれば　あそびくる
しびがはたでに　つまたてりみゆ
o Of the briny current
The breakers as I view,
By the fin of the tuna
That comes sporting
I see my spouse standing.
With that, Shibi had little recourse but to respond in kind. They went back and forth, trading verses laced with metaphors, puns, and innuendo. They talked about bamboo fences, representing the bridal chamber, as well as great swords, which I imagine referenced something a bit different.
These kinds of poetry competitions were a staple of courtly life from at least the 8th century, and I have no problem believing they go back to at least the 5th, if not earlier. They could simply be friendly games, but they could also make or break a reputation, and in the cutthroat world of courtly politics, reputation was key. Embarassment could severely tarnish one’s standing in court.
As such, these were battles as much as any physical fight. You were expected to respond to your partner’s poems in ways that built on them or even twisted the meaning. There were also well known poetic tropes and memes that one would try to leverage to demonstrate education as well.
As such, the poems here went back and forth between Wakasazaki and Shibi no Omi. Much of it does easily translate into English, but eventually, Shibi made it clear that Kage Hime was his:
おほきみの　みおびのしつはた　むすびたれ　
たれやしひとも　あひおもはなくに
o The great Lord’s
Girdle of Japanese loom
Hangs down in a bow.
Whosoever it may be--
There is no one (but me) whose love she requires.
As realization dawned on Wakasazaki, he realized that the two were already a pair, and he had no more lines. He was at the end of words, so to speak. He blazed out in a rage and left the spot.
With that, Wakasazaki started thinking back on all the little moments where Shibi and his father had slighted him in one way or another. He decided to bring an end to it, once and for all. Wakasazaki headed for the house of Ohotomo no Kanamura no Muraji, where he ordered Kanamura to raise troops and punish Shibi no Omi.
The troops eventually found him—either at Narayama, or possibly at Kage Hime’s house—and put to death the son of possibly the most powerful person in Yamato at that time.
As Kage Hime mourned the loss of her lover, the troops regrouped. Kanamura doubtless knew that they couldn’t just leave Matori in charge of the court—not after killing his son. And so he convinced Wakasazaki to let his men finish the job. He too his men and they surrounded Matori’s house. Once in position, they set fire to it, killing anyone who might try to escape.
With Matori dead, Kanamura then insisted that Wakasazaki formally assume the throne. He agreed, and had a ritual platform built at the Namiki palace, in Hatsuse—modern Hase. He then took Kasuga no Iratsume—and not Kage Hime—as his queen.
Now there is a lot in here to make me wonder. The first is his age. Perhaps if we assume he is more like 16 years old, this makes a bit more sense—ten seems extremely young, even back then. Also, I wonder if Matori was really that treacherous—it seems more like a jealous rage on Wakasazaki’s part that turned deadly, possibly with the help of a rival faction in court, represented by Ohotomo no Kanamura.
What really gets me questioning this, though, is that the Kojiki has almost the exact same story. In that case, though, the protagonist was Woke, aka Kenzou Tennou, the youngest of Ichinobe’s two sons, and the one most known for his poetic capabilities. His opponent, however, is still the same: Shibi no Omi. Except here he is said to be an ancestor of the Heguri no Omi—his exact parentage is not detailed.
Similar to the Nihon Shoki, the two trade poetic barbs over a woman’s hand—with many similar verses, though not in the same order. In this case, however, it is the royal prince, Woke, who comes out on top. He shows off his poetic prowess and gets the girl.
Shibi was powerful, though—not the kind of person you casually piss off. Every afternoon, presumably when the business of court concluded, all of the courtiers would gather at Shibi’s residence, gathering at the gate, probably for a night of drinking, poetry, and who knows what else. Woke and his brother agreed that they would need to strike first, before Shibi could organize against them. So, just as Wakasazaki had done, they gathered troops, surrounded Shibi no Omi’s house, and killed him.
Now, generally speaking, the Nihon Shoki is considered more reliable than the Kojiki. In this case, however, I have to wonder. In both cases the story has a similar feel. The sovereign-to-be has a crush on a girl, and Shibi no Omi, a powerful courtier, stands in the way. After a poetry battle, the sovereign-to-be resorts to military force, which is, itself, apparently justifiable because of who the protagonist is.
So that is the story of the epic poetry battle with Shibi no Omi and its fall-out. Next episode we’ll look more into the actual reign as well as the atrocities that were mentioned in the Nihon Shoki.
Before we leave, however, a quick note on names. First, there is Wakasazaki’s posthumous name of Buretsu or Muretsu Tennou. The reason for the confusion is that the character for “Bu” can be read either as Bu or Mu depending on the word. Buretsu appears to be the more common form. It is also a strange choice, as it seems to translate to something like “martial merit”, and yet I’m not sure there is a lot to commend that particular name to this reign, as we’ll see next episode.
Then there is the name he may have been known by at the time: Wohatsuse Wakasazaki.
The first of those recalls the name of his maternal grandfather, Ohohatsuse Wakatake. Wakatake’s name starts with “Oho” or “Opo”, which means basically “Great” or “Big”, and Hatsuse—indicating where his palace was located. Meanwhile, Wakasazaki’s name uses “wo”, meaning “small”, also paired with Hatsuse, where he, too, had his palace.
The given name, however, while sharing the “Waka” with his grandfather, also contains “Sazaki”, much like “Ohosazaki”, aka Nintoku Tennou—his great, great grandfather. That connection is going to be interesting later, as it appears that Wakasazaki might indeed be the last of Ohosazaki’s line... and that is going to cause some real questions if he can’t father a child before the end of his reign.
Which we will get into next episode, hopefully.
Until then, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com. It is always great to hear from people and ideas for the show.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7.
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Chamberlain, B. H. (1981). The Kojiki: Records of ancient matters. Rutland, Vt: C.E. Tuttle Co. ISBN4-8053-0794-3.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Who’s Who

Wohatsuse Wakasazaki

Heguri no Matori

Ōtomo no Muruya

Ōtomo no Kanamura

Kudara no Otara (aka Itarang of Baekje)

Donseong of Baekje

Muryeong of Baekje

Early Castles

Rough Transcript

References

Who’s Who

Wohatsuse Wakasazaki

Heguri no Matori

Shibi no Omi

Kage Hime

Ōtomo no Kanamura

Rough Transcript

References