Conjectural route for Yamato Takeru based on the evidence in the Chronicles. Click to enlarge. Original map by Ash_Crow, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons. Modified by author.

This episode we finish up the journey of Yamato Takeru. Many of the people named in this story were previously discussed in Part I, so we won’t go back over them here. We will look at the back end of his journey, including a few of the places that he may have passed along the way. This starts somewhere up in “HItakami” and takes us back to the lands we a perhaps more familiar with.

Niihari - Niihari was one of the areas of Hitachi since before the Taika reforms of 645, according to that province’s Fudoki. It mentions the others as Ubaraki, Naka, Kuji, Taka, and Tsukuba. Only Niihari and Tsukuba are specifically mentioned by Yamato Takeru, however. The name Niihari (aka Nihihari or Nihibari) is found in the region around Mt. Tsukuba, today, but the description in the eight century Hitachi Fudoki seems to indicate the area just northwest of Mt. Tsukuba. It defines the western border as the Keno River—aka Kinugawa—and the eastern border as the mountains, at the southern end of which you’ll find Mt. Tsukuba. The northern border was the border of Kenu—aka Shimōtsuke no Kuni—and the southern border was an area known as Shirakabe.

Mt. Tsukuba - This location is much more well known. Mt. Tsukuba is actually one of the famous mountains of Japan—it is considered one of the 100 famous peaks, and even has particular stories that connect it to Mt. Fuji. You see, where as Mt. Fuji is the tallest peak in Japan, at 3,776m, with a gray, rocky peak, Mt. Tsukuba is just under 890m tall, with two peaks—871m and 877m, to be exact. In fact, it is one of the easier peaks to climb, if that is something you would like to do—or you can cheat and take the funicular up to the top.

In the Hitachi Fudoki, there is a story of kami that was roaming through the land. As night fell, he came upon Mt. Fuji, and asked the kami of Mt. Fuji if he could take shelter there for the night. The kami of Mt. Fuji refused, however, because they were observing a period of abstinence for the new crops, and during that time they could not allow anyone to enter. The wander kami was upset at such a lack of hospitality, and so cursed Mt. Fuji to be out of reach, and for snow to fall on its peak in any season, and for the mountaintop to be barren.

This kami then came to Tsukuba in Hitachi. There, he also asked for shelter, and the kami of Mt. Tsukuba replied that even though they, too, were observing a period of abstinence, they would make an exception. And so the wandering kami blessed Mt. Tsukuba, and ever since the peak has been accessible and people have regularly gathered to sing and celebrate.

Perhaps unsurprisingly there is a shrine at the base of the mountain, and that shrine has a very unique set of guardian statues out in front: Toyoki Iribiko and Yamato Takeru. Toyoki Iribiko, you may recall, was the son of Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tennō, and he was one of two sons who were candidates for eventually inheriting the throne. However, due to his dream, which saw him at the top of Mt. Miwa swinging sword and spear to the east, he was sent out to Kenu, and there is a tradition that says he visited Mt. Tsukuba as well.

Ashigara Pass - This is the pass through the mountains between the ancient countries of Suruga and Sagami—now the border between Shizuoka and Kanagawa prefectures. There area of Ashigara lies just north of the beautiful hot spring resort town of Hakone, and to the east of the pass lies the formidable and iconic Mt. Fuji. As with many places in Japan, the contours of the land have created their own natural pathways that people have been using for centuries, and even today there are roads that wind through the pass from one side to the other. That said, if the area is remembered for anything other than the views of Mt. Fuji, it is probably not our protagonist, Yamato Takeru. Rather it is likely a more local figure, Sakata no Kintoki, a warrior from the Heian era, more popularly known as Kintarō. Of course, Kintarō is said to be his name when he was a young boy, and you may have seen him depicted in a large, one-piece outfit of a red fundoshi, or loincloth, and bib, usually with the character for “KIN” 「金」 on it in gold and carrying an axe. Of course, this is all a much later folk hero, but his connection to the region is much stronger.

View of Mt. Fuji from a mountain on the northern edge of modern Kōfu City

Sakaori - Today, the area of Sakaori is simply a part of the larger area of modern Kōfu city, the old capital of the ancient country of Kai. This area, north of Mt. Fuji, is extremely mountainous. While no doubt daunting in ancient times, especially before roads and maps were more common, the mountains also provided a kind of isolation and security. The sengoku warlord, Takeda Shingen, no doubt counted on the security those mountains provided when he refused to build a castle like other daimyō did at that tumultuous time. It is no doubt easy to “make men your castle, men your walls, men your moats” when you live in a remote and easily defensible location.

Of course, it wasn’t just the Takeda who found it hospitable. The plain on which Kōfu city sits has been inhabited since the Jōmon times. Though we don’t know a lot about who was there when Yamato Takeru supposedly stopped at the palace of Sakaori and traded poems with the fire-keeper there, it was no doubt doing well for itself.

Usui Tōge and the Japan Alps - Usui Pass was the ancient pass to the country or region of Shinano, an area in the middle of the mountainous region of central Honshū. The ranges here are known as the “Japan Alps”, although technically they are divided into three groups of mountain ranges. It wasn’t until relatively modern times that there was anything like a complete map of all of the various rivers and valleys throughout this region. Those who wandered off the well-worn trails could be lost in the mountains, and so it is no wonder that living off the land and being able to find one’s way through successfully was considered such a skill.

A jigokudani, or Hell Valley, at Tateyama, one of the taller peaks in the Japanese alps.

The mountains here are still volcanically active, and there are numerous hot springs as well as the jigoku dani. These are areas, often depressions in the landscape, where volcanic gasses spill out of crevices in the earth. While they may be the same forces that heat the natural hot springs across Japan, those poisonous vapors, which are often heavier than air, can gather in depressions, and may kill off much of the plant and animal life nearby. And while the steam rising up from the vents may be a visible indication, especially in the winter, as it cools, the gasses themselves are invisible to the naked eye, and one may not even know that they are in danger until it is too late. There may be a sulfurous, or “rotten egg”, smell, but there could also be pockets of high concentrations of carbon dioxide gas. While naturally occurring, too much carbon dioxide can cause a person to quickly asphyxiate in higher concentrations. Today we are well aware of the dangers, and most jigoku dani have signs, warning tourists of the dangers, but back in ancient times there were no signs to warn travelers of the dangers.

Owari - We touched on Owari on the trip out, and I want to note it again, because it is here that Yamato Takeru leaves the sword Kusanagi. This is significant, because this is also the home of Atsuta Jingū, the shrine that is said to house the sacred blade, even today.

The haiden, or prayer hall, of Atsuta Jingū in 2006. Many of the buildings are now roofed in bronze, rather than the more traditional thatch. This was considered more economical, especially during WWII. The shrine is in Nagoya, which was a target… — The haiden, or prayer hall, of Atsuta Jingū in 2006. Many of the buildings are now roofed in bronze, rather than the more traditional thatch. This was considered more economical, especially during WWII. The shrine is in Nagoya, which was a target of the allies, and many of the shrines buildings were destroyed and rebuilt in 1955.

It is unclear just what the sword looks like, though there are conjectural drawings. This is explained by its sacred nature—it is kept at the shrine except when it is needed for the enthronement ceremony, at which time the box it is kept in is brought out—but that is a rare event. I’m not even sure if the emperor looks at the sword, or if it is enough that the boxes are there. In fact, during some periods in history, when the regalia were split between competing lines, there were enthronements that took place with only the empty boxes, which effectively stood in for the objects themselves.

It is likely a straight blade, sharpened on both edges. Of course, due to its nature, it is highly doubtful that anyone will be closely examining the sword any time soon to confirm its age or even if it is a copy of a sword from a particular era. For most it is enough that it exists.

Mt. Ibuki - Situated between the countries of Mino and Ōmi, now the border of modern Gifu and Shiga Prefectures, Mt. Ibuki overlooks the natural pass between these two areas. At the eastern foot of the mountain is the site of the famous battle of Sekigahara, which would be a decisive victory for Tokugawa Ieyasu as he brought the country under his rule, but for Yamato Takeru, this was anything but a success.

Given ts location between the two areas, one is left to wonder if there isn’t another meaning. Perhaps Yamato Takeru—or the warrior whose story this part of the legend is modeled on, was attempting to cross the pass into Ōmi, only to find himself defeated and turned back. Whatever the real story, this is clearly where Yamato Takeru’s fortunes take a turn for the worse.

Isame - Also “Wisame” in the old phonology. This is said to be the location of the clear spring where Yamato Takeru took a rest and his mind was cleared. Of course, the location identified today seems a bit out of the way from Ibuki proper, but so be it. Other locations mentioned in the Chronicles would seem to be in Mino, Owari, and down to Ise.

Nobono Plain - This is as far as our hero got and, spoiler alert, where he is said to have perished, and where his kofun is said to have been built. While it is unlikely that the person buried here is actually the person who did all the things that are claimed in the Chronicles, he was probably someone of import. And, his kofun was late enough that it actually had true haniwa, the cylindrical clay stands that would be placed over most kofun from the 4th century onward.

Most people, when they hear about haniwa, are thinking about the later statues of houses, people, boats and other such things that give us such a great insight into the life of people in the later kofun period. However, early on, these were still relatively simple, and even as the shapes began to flourish the cylindrical haniwa continued to be used, often as the stands for these figured clay statues.

Examples of the round clay cylinders, from which haniwa get their names, at the Tokyo National Museum.

The earliest decorations, as we’ve noted, appear to have been simple jar stands, with offering jars that sat on top. These cylindrical stands may have held a similar purpose, but their shape allowed them to be sunk into the ground, and the pots and vessels placed on top could be shaped to slot into their open mouths. Over time, those vessels took on different shapes, including umbrellas, houses, etc. Still, it seems it took some time before the figures we often think of were prevalent. Even then, there were regional differences and styles.

And, of course, there is the problem of survivorship bias, as many haniwa are not found intact, but rather are simply scattered sherds of broken pottery. Much like paleontologists working from scraps of bone, archaeologists may only have these broken pieces to try to compare to others and hopefully figure out what type of haniwa were present when a kofun was built. This, in turn, can give us valuable insights into when the kofun was built as well as what kinds of regional influences may have been present as well. All this helps build a better understanding of what was actually going on outside of the legendary stories of the royal line.

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
Naumann, Nelly (1992). ‘The “Kusanagi” Sword’. Nenrin-Jahresringe: Festgabe für Hans A. Dettmer. Ed. Klaus Müller. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1992. [158]–170. https://freidok.uni-freiburg.de/fedora/objects/freidok:4635/datastreams/FILE1/content
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