Episode 68: Ōke the Elder

July 16, 2022 Joshua Badgley

Nineteenth century artist’s interpretation of Ōke, aka Ninken Tennō, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Interesting that, although he is the elder brother he almost looks younger than Woke, his younger brother (see Episode 67)

This episode we are on to the next reign—that of Ōke, aka Ninken Tennō, the elder brother of Woke, aka Kenzō Tennō and Iitoyo Tennō. He was the eldest son of Prince (Sovereign?) Ichinobe.

While his brother, Woke, reigned only for a relatively limited time before he unfortunately passed away, Ōke is said to have reigned for ten years—a not insubstantial reign, to be honest. If you think about it, one generally assumes that each king is part of the next generation, and as such one would expect reigns to average around 20 years or so. However, in this case Ōke was the third—or fourth—reign in a single generation, considering that Shiraga, Iitoyo, Woke, and Ōke were all siblings or first cousins, rather than father and son.

Ancient “Capitals”

Prior to the creation of permanent, continental style capital cities—complete with grid-pattern roads and rectangular plots of land—the center of the Yamato court appears to have been the sovereign’s palace, which moved fairly regularly. Below is an attempt to plot the traditionally identified palaces from Jimmu to Buretsu. These are based on where Google places the traditional palace ruins.

Akitame’s family situation

This is a bit complicated, but for those who are trying to follow, here you go:

Funame married Hataye
Funame gave birth to Nakume
Nakume married Yamaki
Nakume gave birth to Akitame
Hataye died and Nakume died
Funame married Yamaki
Funame gave birth to Araki
Araki married Akitame.

Attempt to depict the family relationships in Akitame’s family.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 68: Ohoke the Elder.
First things, first, shout out to Hirumuto for supporting us on Patreon. If you’d like to join them, check out Sengoku Daimyo on patreon.com or you can always check us out on our Ko-Fi site.
A bit more housekeeping. First off, this episode does have mention of suicide, and while we shouldn’t be going into great detail, just want to make sure that is out there.
Also, this episode we will cover the reign that followed Woke, aka Kenzo Tennou, but as we’ll see, there are plenty of gaps. Although this next reign is said to have spanned ten years—an entire decade—there really isn’t a lot of detail in places. That said, we can see what we might be able to deduce based on other information that we have up to this point. I’ll try to be clear where I’m making conjectures, rather than just what our historical or archaeological evidence tells us.Now, we left off last episode with the death of Woke, aka Kenzo Tennou, the younger of the two sons of Prince Ichinobe. He had reigned for only three years, and in that time he had tried to find justice for his murdered father, but also had engaged in—possibly inaugurated—regular poetry gatherings on the third day of the third month, and he may have also been responsible for instantiating worship of Takami Musubi, possibly bringing his worship from Nimna, on the Korean Peninsula. In addition, at some point in there, we saw others from the archipelago causing trouble on the peninsula—though whether or not they were connected to the Yamato court I couldn’t actually say.
One can only imagine Ohoke’s grief at the death of his younger brother. Unfortunately, there were many things that could take someone before their time, and it would not have been unusual for an elder sibling to outlive their younger sibling—or even for parents to outlive their children. And yet, Ohoke would have had to balance his grief with the realities of the situation. After all, there were no other heirs to take the throne, so it was finally on him.
He had been appointed as Crown Prince during the reign of Shiraga, but he had abdicated his position in favor of his younger brother, and there had actually been two relatives who had sat on the throne since then—first his sister or aunt, Ihitoyo, and then his younger brother, Woke. Now, though, it was his turn to take control of the Yamato court.
All in all, it looks like this took about eight months, from his brother’s death to Ohoke taking the throne. In the past we’ve seen where there was some time from one ruler to another, as it was often contested. But here we see where it apparently wasn’t contested, and yet there still seems to be a gap. This can probably be explained in several ways.
First off, there may have been a mourning period. Even if a tomb mound had already been arranged and constructed, from what we can tell of burial practices at the time, there was some period where the body would be laid out before burial. This looks as though it could have lasted up to two years, presumably as various rituals were conducted and even just the determination of a successor.
There are also various ascension rituals. While Ohoke likely did not have to go through all of the same rituals that occur today there are some we know about—and possibly others we don’t. One of the more important festivals appears to be the Daijosai—the first Niinamesai, or feast of first fruits, of the reign. I suspect that it was Ihitoyo’s untimely death before conducting the Daijosai that effectively disqualified her from consideration as one of the sovereigns. In effect, she had not completed the ascension ceremonies. This is mostly just supposition on my part, however.
There is also the act of constructing a new palace. As I’ve noted in past episodes, every sovereign selects a new location from which to set up their palace. These palace names actually seem to be how the sovereigns were referred to before the creation of the posthumous names that we see in the Nihon Shoki and Kojiki.
There has been some conjecture as to why the palace would be moved so often. After all, it seems like it would have been much more efficient to simply use the palace of your predecessor, as it was already built and the court was set up around it.
Typically the reasoning behind moving the palace is given as an issue of ritual purification. Drawing on Shinto belief, blood and death are seen as a type of spiritual pollution. While a site can be cleansed and purified, it may have been easier to simply move everything to a new building, or a new complex. There may be some examples of this back into the Yayoi period, with examples of some homes apparently collapsed and possibly burned, perhaps deliberately for some sort of ritual purpose.
Yet it isn’t like they just built a new building next to the old. If the Chronicles are to be believed, they picked up the entire court and moved it to another location altogether. Granted, most of the time up to this current sovereign, the traditional locations, if they are to be believed, remained somewhere in the southeast corner of the Nara basin, with only the occasional foray outside—once, briefly, to Lake Biwa, and once out to Naniwa—modern Ohosaka. Then there is the somewhat confusing period of Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko and Okinaga Tarashi Hime—aka Chuai and Jingu Tenno—where they at least temporarily set up out near or on Tsukushi, modern Kyushu.
It is possible that for some of these, the palace was already built—especially if the new location was in an area that was a political stronghold of the incoming sovereign. These may have already been locations that the successor was living, either part time or fully. We really don’t know much about how a quote-unquote “palace” differed from a residence—or at least the residence of an elite member of society. We do make several assumptions, however, that it would be larger, likely made up of multiple buildings. There is also some mention of certain types of architectural features, like possibly the roof shape.
It also isn’t exactly clear what the court looked like in terms of people— who were the permanent members, constantly in attendance, and what went on, day to day.The later court would be filled with scribes. The written word would be a big part of governance. Whether writing out or copying various works of importance. I doubt, however, that Ohoke’s court was filled with nearly as much scribal activity, though there were likely individuals trained in the written word, carrying on traditions from the Baekje scribes who had come over long before.
There were the toneri and uneme—male and female attendants from various families who would look after the needs of Ohoke and his family, while also possibly bending an ear now and then. That family included any wives and consorts he had, who would have been lodged in their own buildings, most likely, housed on the same compound, but also given their own separate domains, based on descriptions so far.
Was there a purpose-built building from which to govern, and conduct the rituals of the state, or was it basically just the front of Ohoke’s residence? I suspect the former, based on what we know of the layout of the palace at Makimuku as well as later palace dimensions. There were likely special buildings for gathering in—whether raised buildings or even a large muro, or pit house.
How about the Ohomuraji and the Oho-omi, the influential families or clans that we’ve heard so much about? They appear to have resided in their home areas. These were families with names like the Hata, the Wani, the Mononobe, and others, such as the Ki and the Heguri. Most likely I suspect they served as local magnates, traveling as needed for various ceremonies and festivals, which were, in their own way, a vital piece of government.
Ritual was still an important aspect of the role of the sovereign and the court, though during Wakatake’s reign he seems to have had less of an explicit role in ritual, focusing more on his military role. This may indicate a movement away from the sovereign leading the ritual and instead delegating the ritual activity to others—like how the previous sovereign, Woke, the younger brother, designated various families to worship Takami Musubi. This wouldn’t have necessarily been an immediate change, but over time various families came to take charge of different areas of ritual.
Correctly performing the rituals, which were likely thought to bring in good harvests or protect from natural disasters, was an important part of what was considered good government by the people. The sovereign had particular duties in this regard, but so did the other elites, whose own positions may have relied on their participation.
Did these powerful families maintain residences near the sovereign? Did the designation of a new palace also bring a wave of subsidiary construction? It is difficult for me to say. Still, the Nara Basin is large, but not so large that it cannot be traversed. East to west, on foot, it is perhaps a three to four hour journey. Even north to south is probably doable in five to six hours, depending on the location. From Isonokami shrine to Naniwa is perhaps eight to nine hours, if you don’t stop too long to eat something. On horseback these distances would be considerably shorter. And so it would not be too difficult to arrange for people to gather as necessary—at least for those who were present in the region. These distances may have then also formed the de facto extent of direct Yamato control.
The composition of these early courts were certainly different from later times, when all of the major noble houses would come to reside in the capital city. But then again, administration of the land was likely much less tightly controlled—one of the reasons we still have to wonder about the general evolution of the Yamato “state” at this point in time. Certainly it seems that the sovereign Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, had been able to accomplish much, and we know that he had elites in both the eastern and western reaches of Japan who were, in some fashion, subservient to him. Still, after his death, and with the fall of the Liu Song on the continent and the destruction of Baekje by Goguryeo—even though it would reconstitute itself—there was not a solid foundation for Yamato. And so, in all likelihood, while the court had the trappings of authority, that authority in the late 5th century was limited.
The fact that the throne had seen three sovereigns over the course of seven years does not speak well to any consistency. Ohoke himself would be the fourth. This is a far cry from the over two decades of rule under Wakatake.
As I said, we have no clear understanding of court life at the time, but I imagine that it had the trappings of a supreme paramount – a single sovereign ostensibly in charge - but perhaps with some question as to the actual effectiveness of this system.So, it is in this environment that Ohoke set up his palace—his court—at Hirotaka, in Isonokami, site of the shrine of the Mononobe clain.
There are a couple of other palaces that are mentioned in the Nihon Shoki as being used by Ohoke, by the way. One at Kawamura, and the second at Takano, in Shijimi. Shijimi you may recall from the origin story of Woke and his brother Ohoke, and I suspect it is connected with the hastily constructed brushwood palace built by Wodate when he first discovered the two brothers. It is also possible that these were summer or winter retreats—vacation homes, as it were. We’ve seen similar mention of staying at various palaces for long durations of hunting or similar activities.
Anyway, at the Hirotaka palace, Ohoke installed his wife, Kasuga no Ohoiratsume, as his queen. Unlike his younger brother’s wife, Naniwa no Wono, we have touched on Kasuga no Ohoiratsume before, though mostly focused on her mother. Back in episode 60 we talked about how Wakatake had a one-night fling with an uneme, one of the ladies attendant at court. This was Woguna, the daughter of Kasuga no Omi no Fukame. As you may recall, when a child was born of their union, Wakatake initially refused to accept it, but eventually he could not deny that the daughter was his own, and he raised up her mother’s status, such that she received the title of “Kimi” or “Gimi”, becoming known to us, today, as Woguna Kimi.
It is said that even at a young age, Woguna Kimi’s daughter had her father’s bearing. This daughter, as you may have guessed, was Kasuga no Ohoiratsume. A few key points here.
First, it is extremely interesting to me that she is the daughter of Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, given how Wakatake had killed Prince Ichinobe, the father of Ohoke and his younger brother, Woke. So this means that Ohoke ended up marrying the daughter of his hated uncle, the man who murdered his father. Assuming the Nihon Shoki is correct, I have to assume this would have been a strictly political marriage. On the other hand, Ohoke may have been more forgiving given the fact that it was a son of Wakatake, Prince Shiraga, who had brought him and his brother back into the family fold.
It is also interesting here that we don’t really have much of a name for Kasuga no Ohoiratsume. “Kasuga” would appear to be a family name or even a locative—not that there was necessarily much difference at the time. “Ohoiratsume”, meanwhile, is basically a fancy word for “Royal Princess”. We’ve seen this same title used again and again in the narrative, and overall it tells us very little.
Putting this together with the story of her birth, however, it brings up a plethora of questions. Was she actually of royal birth? Or was the story of Woguna Kimi added to ensure she had the appropriate bona fides to be queen - perhaps even an attempt to ensure that Wakatake’s own lineage continued, given his impact. Of course, we may come back to this in a later episode, when we look at just what lengths the Chroniclers went to in order to justify the idea that there was an unbroken royal lineage all the way back to the gods in Takama no Hara.
Either way, there certainly seems to be a lot of justification going on. Ohoke, the sovereign, brought forth from obscure exile in the boonies. Kasuga no Ohoiratsume, the unexpected daughter of a one night stand between Wakatake and a court uneme. One would be totally within their rights to question what was going on in the Chronicles.
Speaking of which, from here on out we are mainly relying on the Nihon Shoki for the bulk of the anecdotal information. The Kojiki, from this point on, relegates itself to mostly providing genealogical information—naming the sovereign, their queen and consorts, and their offspring, as well as things like the location of their palace and their mausoleum. And even that only covers up to a point—ending with information for the early 7th century—still another hundred and fifty or so years. We’ll use it where we can, but just realize that even as our accounts get more reliable, we end up with even fewer sources to compare against.
Speaking of the genealogical information, we are told that Ohoke and his queen, Kasuga no Ohoiratsume, had seven or eight children. Most of them were daughters, but there was one son, Wohatsuse no Wakasazaki, who would become the next Crown Prince. There was also another child, named Mawaka, whom the Kojiki claims was a son, but the Nihon Shoki claims as a daughter. This may be simple confusion over the graphs used in the text or an attempt to justify later succession decisions—it is impossible to know for certain. The name certainly looks like it could be either male or female, to me.
There is at least one consort mentioned as well: Nuka Kimi no Iratsume. She was the daughter of Hiuri or Hifure, of the Wani no Omi. She had a daughter that was either Kasuga no Yamada or possibly Yamada no Ohoiratsume. The Kojiki gives her father’s name differently, but that may be a mistake that was made with a later entry for a wife of Kimmei Tennou, whose father’s name is given as Wani no Omi no Hitsuma.
Again, names are of great interest to me. The fact that this other consort, who is said to descend from the Wani no Omi, has a daughter who is given the name of “Kasuga” suggests to me that there was a fair amount of interaction with that family or area. Perhaps there is something else I’m missing. But I would expect that a Kasuga no Iratsume would be the daughter of Kasuga no Ohoiratsume, personally.
Speaking of queens and consorts, what happened to Naniwa no Wono, the queen to Ohoke’s younger brother, Woke, aka Kenzou Tennou? Normally, a former queen would be raised up, although this does not seem to have been automatic, and is most often the case when the former queen was also the mother to the current sovereign, thus making her the Queen Mother. Of course, Naniwa no Wono was only Ohoke’s sister-in-law. Furthermore, it seems that they may not have been on the best of terms.
Now, remember, everything we’ve heard about the brothers, Ohoke and Woke, they were tight. The bond between them was strong, and they are constantly described as deferring to one another in just about all things. There is no indication of any bad blood between them, and Ohoke directly promoted his brother to the throne.
For Naniwa no Wono, however, her position as queen may have gone a bit to her head. The Nihon Shoki gives us a taste of this in the form of an anecdote from the younger brother, Woke’s, reign. It was at a banquet where both Ohoke and Woke were present. There was a melon on the table, but no knife to cut it with, so the sovereign, the younger brother, Woke, asked his wife, the Queen, Naniwa no Wono, to get a knife and hand it to his older brother, the then-Prince, Ohoke.
Wono did as she was bade, but when she handed over the knife, she remained in a standing position. After all, she was the queen, and Ohoke was merely a prince. Later, when she poured out the sake for her princely brother-in-law, the Queen again did it from a standing position.
From what I can discern, this probably wasn’t improper, given her position at the time, but it wasn’t exactly respectful. Likely it was expected that she would lower herself, possibly to her knees, to hand over both the knife and the sake. This kind of abasement is still seen in various traditional arts. When bowing, for example, the lower one bows, the deeper the respect being shown. Likewise, even when handing things over to someone there can be layers of meaning depending on whether one uses one hand or two, and whether one grips the item being handed from above or from below. Depending on the social situation, there can be a host of meanings in just how one performs various actions.
The lack of respect for Prince Ohoke might have been overlooked if Wono herself had produced a male heir to the throne. After all, then Ohoke and his issue would have continued as merely royal princes. But without a male heir, Ohoke came to power, and we are told that Wono was afraid for her life because of the disrespect she had shown to him before.
Eventually, she couldn’t live with the sword of Damocles hanging over her any longer, and Wono took her own life in the ninth month of 489.
There is a bit to unpack here, and I suspect quite a bit went unsaid in the Chronicle. After all, from what I can tell this all happened a full year and change after Ohoke came to the throne, and over three years since the previous sovereign, his brother Woke, had died. If Ohoke was planning revenge for any disrespect shown to him, previously, then he certainly was taking his time with it. Perhaps he believed that revenge was a dish best served cold, but if so, he had basically put his on ice.
The only other indication that there was something may have been the failure to name Naniwa no Wono as a Dowager Queen. That may have been the kind of subtle and embarrassing blow that may seem like mere oversight, but could have been quite the political blow. Later, we will certainly see the kind of cutthroat politics that took place in the “hinter palace”—aka the women’s quarters. The politics behind supplying an heir to the throne often grew quite intense, with women playing out the family politics that infested the court.
And so perhaps that was enough of a snub such that Naniwa no Wono felt she had no other recourse left to her. Certainly it wouldn’t be the last time we see someone take their life in order to preserve some shred of their honor. Unfortunately, we just don’t have enough details to know for certain.
And that is perhaps the biggest theme of this reign: we don’t have enough details. Ohoke reigned, we are told, for some ten years. And yet we have scant details of what happened. Just a few things each year. We are told about Naniwa no Wono’s suicide, and the establishment of the Isonokami Be attendants and the Saheki Be. We are also given a tantalizing account of two men, Ikuba no Omi no Kashima and Hohe no Kimi, who were thrown into prison for “crimes”, but we aren’t told what they did, though they did die in there.
So given that we don’t have much else to discuss, that bit is interesting - what can we deduce about this ?
First off, these individuals are not simple commoners, at least if their names are to be believed. The kabane of “omi” was one of the most prestigious, indicating a family of some influence in the court. The “Ikuba” family shows up in the records throughout the 6th century, but not necessarily afterwards. They were first recorded back in the time when Ohosazaki, aka Nintoku Tennou, was sovereign, and we talked about their origin story back in Episode 53. They seem to have a connection with the Korean Peninsula in some way, shape or form.
I don’t see Kashima, of the Ikuba no Omi, elsewhere in the Nihon Shoki. There is Kashimada, or Kashima Fields, in the “upper road” of Kibi, or Kibi no Kamitsumichi. It is unclear, though, whether there is any connection between the individual and the location.
Hohe no Kimi is a bit more of a head-scratcher. I can’t find any other reference to him. “Kimi” would likely indicate a local lord. After all, the sovereign was “Oho-kimi”, the “Great Lord”.
I’ve seen some suggestion that the crimes referenced may have been effectively political in nature—perhaps they posed a challenge to the sovereign. That might make sense as to why the line was included in the Nihon Shoki, but there is one other piece that makes this somewhat intriguing, and that is the mention of imprisonment.
In early Japan, the penal system was not exactly what it is today. In fact, in most places in history, crime and punishment have been handled in very different ways. Today we may think about jail, imprisonment, and fines as the primary forms of punishment for criminals, but this hasn’t always been the case. For one thing, jails and prisons require an infrastructure—you need people who can run and maintain such an institution. Temporary incarceration is one thing, but long term imprisonment is something else.
It also has to do with the purpose of your punishments. Are you trying to prevent further transgressions? Are you attempting to find some way of balancing the scales—justice, as it were? Or is there something else?
Monetary fines may be enough in some instances. In ancient England, a weregild, or man price, was instituted, so that when someone was killed, the killer would be forced to pay a fine to the family. Now I get how that could seem like it is just a way for rich people to buy their way out of corporal punishment, and to some extent it is. But it is also important to realize that up to that point the main form of justice was retributive killings. So if someone from family A kills someone from family B, then someone from family B kills the killer, or some other member of *their* family, which leads to someone from family A going after family B again… well, you can see how that gets messy, and it isn’t exactly helpful in maintaining a stable society.
Early punishments that we’ve already seen in the Chronicles include fines, tattoos, exile, and, of course, death. We’ve also seen that the Mononobe were, at least back in Wakatake’s day, the apparent executioners as well as guards and general military support to Yamato.
Up to this point, however, incarceration appears, to me, to have been a temporary solution—such as when Wakatake detained the Silla delegation because of accusations that they were disrespecting the court uneme, back in Episode 56. They were thrown in prison, but we might better just refer to it as jail. Once they were questioned, they were released.
And so, returning to Ohoke’s reign and the two people in question: I have to wonder whether imprisonment was their punishment or if they were basically awaiting some kind of investigation into their guilt? Did they die before they could be questioned and punishment meted out?
This is all simply conjecture. Unfortunately, I doubt we’ll find much archaeological trace of judicial structures—or at least nothing that we can definitively prove. If people were kept in a raised building, it would look like any other. If they were kept in a pit building, then it might be similar. I doubt that they were imprisoned in anything like a cellblock as we might imagine it today.
Now, in another one of the more fulsome accounts from this reign, we have the mission of Hitaka no Kishi to the continent, once again seeking out artisans for the court. This is how families like the Hata and the Aya are said to have come over, bringing their knowledge of silk and weaving. In this instance, Hitaka was able to bring over artisans from Goguryeo with an apparent understanding of special leather tanning techniques. However, that isn’t the actual story, but just the background. You see, he had someone with him named Araki.
Now Araki might be all but forgotten if not for his wife and an extremely convoluted set of marriages and births. Because when he left with Hitaka no Kishi his wife, Akitame, lamented her lot in life in fine poetic form:
“Woe’s me, my youthful spouse!
For to me he is an elder brother,
And to my mother too, an elder brother.”
When someone asked her what she meant by this she produced a cryptic response worthy of some kind of mountain top guru: “Think of the autumn garlic’s ever-clustering growth.” – which, for any Spirit Island fans out there, also sounds like an awesome new Spirit. Just sayin’.
Now, first off understand that the sinograph used for “garlic” in this case seems to refer to older forms of onion-like bulb vegetables, and might more properly be referring to something similar to a spring onion. And while onions and garlic today are largely planted in the fall and harvested in the spring—at least in the northern hemisphere—it is unclear what exactly is meant by “autumn” here—and where the vegetable in question would be in its lifecycle. I suspect, however, that it refers to the period when the bulb might be budding off new growth, a phenomenon that would create bunches of onions, all clustered together. That would at least fit the description given by the anonymous person in the Nihon Shoki who heard of this and went on to explain how it related to the complex family situation that the woman in question was in at the moment.
You see it started when Funame of the Naniwa Jewelers’ Be married Karama no Hataye. Together they had a daughter, named Nakume. Nakume married a man named Yamaki, of Sumuchi, and together *they* had a daughter, named Akitame.
Unfortunately, Karama no Hataye, Akitame’s grandfather, and Nakume, her mother, both passed away. Her father, Yamaki decided to remarry, and since Akitame’s grandmother, Funame, was now a widow, Yamaki decided that he should just marry his own mother-in-law, Funame, which was apparently not quite Kosher. I’ll try to put a chart of this together, not that it makes it any easier.
Anyway, Akitame’s grandmother, Funame, lay with Akitame’s uncle, Yamaki, and they had a son, Araki.
And Araki married Akitame, despite the fact that he was both her half-brother, through their father, Yamaki, as well as the brother to Akitame’s mother, Nakume, through Akitame’s grandmother, Funame. And thus her declaration, which I’ll repeat once more:
“Woe’s me, my youthful spouse!
For to me he is an elder brother,
And to my mother too, an elder brother.”

The only thing that is a bit off then is the term older brother, but commenters on the Chronicles seem to have suggested that the terms today translated as elder brother or younger sister were, at the time, simply used for any brother or any sister.
This incestuous family relationship is just one of the last entries in Ohoke’s reign. The rest basically just notes how he made his son, Wakasazaki, Crown Prince, he had one really baller year—though in what way they don’t say. And then Ohoke passes away in the tenth year of his reign.
And as such, that closes the chapter on Ohoke, aka Ninken Tennou. Next episode we’ll look at the reign of his son, Wakasazaki, later known as Buretsu Tennou.
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

Episode 67: Woke's Grab Bag

July 1, 2022 Joshua Badgley

Nineteenth century artist’s interpretation of Woke, aka Kenzō Tennō, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

RSS

Archives

This episode we cover a variety of things from the reign of Woke, aka Kenzō Tennō, in the late 5th century.

Chikatsu Asuka (近津飛鳥)

Technically, there are several areas that are “Asuka”. The area in the Southeast Nara Basin seems to be where many sovereigns had their palaces, but there is also an area further to the west that might make more sense as “Near” Asuka, especially if Chikatsu Asuka was on the way between Naniwa and Isonokami. (Note that the map is approximate).

Banzai (万歳) — not bonsai

This is still used in modern Mandarin, or Putonghua, as “Wansui”. In both cases it is the same meaning, with the Japanese term originating in the Han dynasty or even earlier. It literally means “10,000 years”.

FWIW, “Bonsai” (盆栽) is something else—trees or similar plants that have been carefully trimmed and kept as a miniature version, usually very carefully and painstakingly shaped to look appropriately “natural”, sometimes specifically trained to a particular landscape. Groups will get together and often display their work to the public at castles, shrines, temples, and elsewhere.

While people may wish “banzai” to their “bonsai”, try not to confuse the two!

Kyokusui no En (曲水宴)

The “Winding Stream Poetry Banquet” is one of the hallmarks of Japanese noble poetic culture, and comes directly from the continent. Sometimes it is read as “Gokusui no En”, but it is the same idea. These parties were a big hit, and special streams were built for them.

Extant feeder stream uncovered at Motsuji, in Hiraizumi.

Unfortunately, over time many of these streams have been demolished, though there is at least one remaining stream—a feeder stream for the pond at Motsuji temple in Hiraizumi, in the Tohoku region. Back in the Heian era, elites in Hiraizumi did their best to emulate the culture of the capital even out in the provinces, leaving us things like this.

Today there are various temples and shrines that hold regular “Kyokusui no En” events, with people coming out in Heian era garments and re-enacting these poetry events.

Takami Musubi

We’ve discussed Takami Musubi before. He is one of several kami using the designation of “Musubi”, including “Kammu Musubi”. Takami Musubi is said to have come around before even Izanagi and Izanami, who are otherwise seen as the “creation” kami.

Ki no Ohiha

Probably “Ki no “Opipa” back in the day, and nowadays maybe more appropriately as “Ki no Oiwa”. The Ki family is known to have been active in various campaigns on the Korean peninsula.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 67: Woke’s Grab Bag
Warning up front: this episode we are covering a bunch of different events from the reign of Woke, aka Kenzo Tenno, in the late 5th century. I’m not sure that I could say there is clearly a single thread, but many of them have something interesting, at least in my opinion. So here you go.
In the last episode we saw how the brothers Ohoke and Woke, sons of Ichinobe, were found and returned to their position as royal princes in rather remarkable and poetic circumstances. The elder, Ohoke, was designated Crown Prince, but after the sovereign passed away, he abdicated his position in favor of his younger brother, Woke. As Ohoke and Woke went back and forth about who would sit on the throne, their dithering left it empty and so it was their sister—or possibly aunt—Ihitoyo who took her place upon the royal throne, putting an end to the back and forth between the brothers. Regrettably, Ihitoyo’s time on the throne would be cut short as she unexpectedly passed away less than a year after she had taken the throne, which is given as the main reason why she is not included in the list of official sovereigns, though some sources do name her as Ihitoyo Tennou.
And so, with the throne empty, the two brothers were soon back at it, bickering over who should be the next sovereign.
Finally, Woke gave in to the pressure from his elder brother and the Yamato court and agreed to take the throne. He is remembered to us, today, as Kenzou Tennou. Early on in his reign, he had a focus on finding justice—both for his father, Ichinobe, and for acts committed for or against him and his brother while they were in exile. We detailed these in the last episode, episode 67.
But that isn’t all of Woke’s reign. There was certainly more.
According to the Nihon Shoki, it started with him setting up his palace of Yatsuri in “Chikatsu Asuka”. Traditionally historians locate this in the southeast corner of the Nara basin, between the areas of Kashihara and Sakurai. This is the area we typically talk of as “Asuka”, referencing the area from which various sovereigns ruled relatively unopposed from the 6th to 7th centuries. It makes sense as it is also in the general region of Hase, where Wakatake is said to have had his court, and all in all it makes a logical location from which to set up the government.
On the other hand, there are others that place “Chikatsu Asuka” around the area of Asuka near modern Habikino—there is even a museum to this area. This all makes more sense from the earlier descriptions—back in Episode 54 you may recall that Izaho Wake fled an attempted assassination attempt when they burned down his palace in Naniwa, and he traveled to Isonokami. Along the way he passed by Chikatsu Asuka, nearby Asuka, as well as Tohotsu Asuka, or Distant Asuka. The Asuka in the southeast Nara basin is out of the way for such a distinction—if one were going from Naniwa, or modern day Osaka, to Isonokami, it makes much more sense to take the route through Habikino and then on across the basin to the eastern side.
It leads me to wonder just where this palace was. Of course, it could also be that this isn’t the palace at all, and may have simply been the coronation site. There are apparently records of an Ikeno palace and Mikakuri, which is also said to have been the site of his predecessor, Shiraga’s, palace, which is also identified as being in the area of Sakurai, just north of the historical Asuka region.
So, wherever his palace actually was, once settled on the throne, Woke took his wife, Naniwa no Wono, and made her his queen. She was the daughter of Wakugo of Oka, a descendant through prince Iwaki of Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune, aka Ingyo Tenno. Or so we are told. Once again, the Chronicles are emphasizing the need for an official queen—not just a consort—to be a descendant, herself, of the royal line. After all, we don’t want that family tree to get too wild on us.
The fact that she was apparently of Naniwa is also not insignificant. That was still the main port for accepting goods from the continent.
To celebrate all of this we are told that “general amnesty” was made—though whether this was actually the case or simply something to bolster Woke’s reputation I couldn’t say.
There is also another note here—something that could easily be passed by. It is said that the various ministers gathered and wished the new sovereign ten thousand years. Or, in other words, “Banzai”.
You are probably aware of this phrase, and no, it isn’t the same as bonsai, those miniature trees and landscapes. It is phrase used much as we might use “to your health”, and comes originally from a phrase in the Han dynasty, or possibly earlier. It literally means “10,000 years old”, though “10,000” in this case is a standard trope meaning a long time or a large number—hence a wish for a “long life”.
It is perhaps most widely known as the chant you would hear during WWII movies, especially from groups like the kamikaze pilots. Nationalist fervor had gripped the nation, and the cry became a shortened form of a longer cry of “long life for the emperor” or “Tennou Heika Banzai”, and it was not uncommon that Japanese soldiers would shout “Banzai” when they charged forward in an often fearsome attack. Whether or not it was actually shouted by any of the kamikaze pilots on their final approach, one cannot say, since most of them did not survive to tell us.
That said, it is often used, today, outside of this nationalist and imperialist setting, though I’d say there are still some right-wing strings attached. In those instances, however, it can be a more general exhortation to give it your all or best wishes for some person, group, or idea.
Now, assuming that the dating in the Nihon Shoki is accurate, this would appear to be the first use of the phrase, at least that I can tell. It is later used in more reliably historical parts of the Chronicle, so it was at least in use by the 8th century, and likely much earlier.
And the use of this phrase happened in the third month, on the day of the snake—which seems to have been designated for another activity, at least during Woke’s reign. You see, he apparently was fond of poetry competitions, and he sponsored one on the day of the snake, every third month.
You may recall that Woke’s ties to poetry were strong. He had announced himself and his brother in poetry during a celebration for a new muro, and the Kojiki has a story about how he entered into a poetry battle over the hand of a woman—though that may actually have happened during another reign.
Poetry competitions were certainly a big deal in the later Japanese court – which I’ll talk about a little later – but it’s interesting that there are only three of these gatherings mentioned by the Chroniclers, and all of them are found only here, in Woke’s reign. They read simply, but there are enough contextual clues that we can surmise more about it.
First off is the fact that these are not just random poetry get togethers. They are all described in the same way and they all happen on the same day every year. Clearly this was a date of some importance, though it only seems to show up in Woke’s reign for some time. Literally: 3rd month, Day of the Snake only seems to show up in the Nihon Shoki three times, and it is all in Woke’s reign.
That said, this festival is something that has continued down to us, even today, as the day of the Snake would have been the third day in the third month, which some of you may recognize as Hinamatsuri, also known as Girl’s Day or the Doll Festival.
This is one of five seasonal festivals, or Sekku. The first is on the 7th day of the first month. The other four are on double days. That is, a day where the number of the day and the month match. These are the third day of the third month, the fifth day of the fifth month, the seventh day of the seventh month, and the ninth day of the ninth month.
It is said that a festival on the third day of the third month, known today, at least, as the Shangsi festival, started in the Zhou dynasty, with a dinner party at the Qushui River. Others suggest that it started with a ritual bathing festival. Whatever the actual reason, it seems that the early festival was related to water.
Which fits with what we see in the Chronicles, as it talks about a “poetry water banquet”, a “kyokusui no en”. The image this brings is of a classic poetry gathering around a winding stream, which also brings up the idea of a dinner party at the river.
Such a winding stream party seems to have been associated with the spring festival from at least the middle of the fourth century, when cups of rice wine were floated on the waters down to the participants, who composed poetry and when the cup reached them they were expected to drink and recite their work.
In later centuries, at least, Japanese nobles would come out in their finest, set up around a winding stream, eating and drinking and sharing poetry and songs.
This stream could be natural, but we have plenty of evidence that streams would be deliberately built as part of a garden specifically for these kinds of soirees. The stream would be gentle—by at least the Heian era, the image is one of nobles with servants who could run back and forth to the stream in their stead while they, themselves, worked out their poetic verses.
Was this how it worked back in Woke’s day, in the late 5th century? It is hard to say, but it certainly looks like the roots of just such a celebration. Then again, it could be a complete anachronism, thrown in here to give the practice an even greater veneer of antiquity, and associated with Woke specifically because of his mad poetry skilz.
Now besides coining a new phrase and possibly importing a new excuse to sit around drinking and composing poetry, there was also a somewhat more spiritual development during this reign, having to do with the deities of the Sun and the Moon, and a tenuous connection with the Korean peninsula.
You see, in the 2nd month of 487 Kotoshiro Ahe no Omi had been sent to Nimna. To what purpose I’m not sure, but while he was there he met a man who had a vision from the Moon God themselves. Kotoshiro was told that they should make an offering to the Moon God and to his myriad relatives, including Takami Musubi. Thus upon Kotoshiro’s return, the court dedicated the Utaarasu rice fields to this purpose and put Oshimi no Sukune in charge of their worship.
Two months later, Kotoshiro once again got a spiritual knock on the door, this time from the sun goddess, who told him to dedicate the Iware rice fields to Takami Musubi. This was done and the Atahe of Shimo no Agata, in Tsushima, was put in charge of this.
So why do we care?
Obviously, we can’t state for a fact that Kotoshiro had communication of some kind with actual spirits. But the timing and connection do seem intriguing.
First off, there is the fact that he received his first vision in Nimna or on the voyage to or from. I’m sure there are plenty of scholars who would point out the transnational nature of many seemingly indigenous kami, and here we see that play out once again in the form of the moon god. In fact, this messaging is coming from someone—presumably a spiritual medium of some sort—on the Korean peninsula, which certainly suggests some connection to a peninsular tradition.
It is also interesting that in both cases we see them named as simply the ‘moon god’ and the ‘sun god’.
We first brought up the stories of the creation of the moon god, aka Tsukiyomi, and the sun goddess, aka Amaterasu, back in episode 15. There they were created by Izanagi, with Tsukiyomi, the moon, being created specifically as a counterpoint to the sun, Amaterasu. Meanwhile, Takami Musubi is one of the first deities to arise, even before Izanagi.
Also, as we detailed in Episode 22, both Takami Musubi and Amaterasu were claimed as ancestors of the royal family—specifically the Heavenly Grandchild. In fact, Takami Musubi is sometimes the sole ancestor—it is only in some of the stories that Amaterasu is mentioned.
That relates here as, once again, we see a de-emphasis of Amaterasu—she is simply mentioned as the “sun god”, and not even given one of the various names from earlier on. Furthermore, she isn’t asking for fields to be set up for her, but both the sun and the moon are requesting fields be set up to support the worship of Takami Musubi, who is actually worshipped at the court, whereas Amaterasu and Tsukiyomi are both mentioned as being worshipped at sites outside of the court itself.
This is an example of the kind of evidence we see in the Chronicles for the evolution of belief in the archipelago. Even though the Chronicles present an apparently chronological series of events, the first two sections are about the quote-unquote “Age of the Gods”, but it seems pretty clear that many of the stories were created—or at least codified—in a much later period.
For example, the similarities between entrances to the underworld and later kofun, where people are often entering through a doorway in a hill or similar structure to go down into the land of the Yomi—the dark land of the dead. This imagery doesn’t make much sense for a story from the early kofun period, as the kofun mounds of that time were simply that, mounds. The graves were actually vertical pits dug into the tops of the mounds, not unlike a burial on the ground, but with a more monumental surrounding.
It wasn’t until later—some time in the 5th or 6th century—that we really see the horizontal entrance into a stone chamber. These kofun, which appear to be influenced by continental tombs, have chambers made of stone that are entered from the side, rather than from the top. These sometimes even have evidence of people going into them multiple times, whereas the vertical pit would have to be completely dug out. These horizontal entrances provide a much better analogy with the various stories of death and the underworld, likely meaning that those same stories—or elements—evolved in the later part of the kofun period.
On the other hand, we have glimpses of interactions with deities in the sections from Jimmu onwards. In these we can see that aspects of belief have been co-located in the Chronicles with an apparent time period. Even if they aren’t fully accurate, that puts some veneer of chronology on those actions. The further along we are in the Chronicles, the more reliable these are.
So, for example, in many of the early stories we see kami represented by snakes, often living on mountains, like Mt. Miwa. This isn’t exactly how kami are usually depicted, today, but it is not impossible to think that this may be a reference to early beliefs in the archipelago.
Likewise, what we have here suggests to me that Amaterasu may not yet have taken her place as the chief goddess of Yamato and the royal family. We saw, early on, the Miwa cult, where Takami Musubi was emphasized, but a quick search of the Nihon Shoki demonstrates that Takami Musubi really doesn’t show up after Iware biko, aka Jimmu Tenno’s, reign until now, the reign of Woke. I suspect that this current account, where Kotoshiro is explicitly told to make offers to Takami Musubi, could indicate the *actual* founding of Takami Musubi’s worship by the court. Even then, I don’t see him much in the Chronicles, afterwards, but he does show up elsewhere, such as in the Kamuyogoto recited by the Izumo no Kuni no Miyatsuko when they arrived at the Yamato court to take up their office from at least the 8th century onward.
Speaking of Izumo, Takami Musubi shows up in several of the stories having to do with the subjugation of Izumo. Another name that shows up in those stories is none other than Kotoshiro. In that instance it is Kotoshiro Nushi, whose name is the same as that of the member of Ahe no Omi who traveled to Nimna and brought back the commandment from the moon god in the first place. Does this mean that Kotoshiro is the same as Kotoshiro Nushi? I am not prepared to go that far, but it does seem interesting that he shows up here.
Unfortunately, we don’t have too much more during Woke’s reign, as almost immediately after setting up the worship of Takami Musubi, Woke dies. We don’t know why, exactly—but then, this was a time when they likely didn’t know, either. There were so many things that were just considered a “natural death”.
However, there is an odd epilogue in the Nihon Shoki’s account, and like the account of the Moon God, it too had to do with Nimna, on the Korean Peninsula.
According to this story, Ki no Ohiha no Sukune made a base of operations in Nimna, and from there he made contact with the kingdom of Goguryeo. Now Ohiha had ambitious plans: he was going to establish a government, claim that he was a deity—a kami—and take control of the “Three Han of the West”. The Three Han, or Samhan, is traditionally a reference to the area of the Mahan, Jinhan, and Pyeonhan, which covered the areas of Baekje, Silla, and Kara, including Nimna. On the other hand, it also was used, later, to refer to just Baekje, Silla, and Goguryeo, encompassing all of the Korean peninsula. In this case I honestly couldn’t tell you what was meant, exactly, but it was clear that Ohiha was ambitious.
Together with several others he conspired and assassinated the heir to the Baekje throne. He then built a castle at a place called Tesan and “stood on the defensive as regards the eastern province.” More specifically he cut off access to one of the major harbors through which supplies were transported. That likely means somewhere along the southern coast of the peninsula, referencing supplies between the archipelago and the rest of the peninsula. A single area along the coast might be avoidable, generally, speaking, but you still generally wanted to keep sight of land as much as possible or else follow tried and true pathways across the straits. So there are several areas where I imagine one could effectively take control of the trade routes along various chokepoints.
All of this—though I suspect especially the assassination—pissed off Baekje to no end. The king of Baekje sent men against Tesan, but the castle held out against the initial assault, putting the men to route.
This was, however, a minor victory. Ohiha may have had positional advantage, but his forces were minor compared to those of the continent—and apparently Goguryeo wasn’t really getting involved. As such he was one against a hundred, and as such Baekje was able to surround Tesan and cut it off from outside supplies. After a while, the siege worked, and the defenders eventually ran out of supplies. Ohiha was able to escape, departing Nimna and returning, presumably to the archipelago. His co-conspirators and their men, however, were not so lucky, and we are told they were put to death.
This is one of those odd stories that I suspect has deeper connections if we really look into the characters. Because otherwise, why do we care? The Ki family is certainly implicated in many of the adventures against the Korean peninsula, so that isn’t out of the ordinary, but otherwise it doesn’t look like Ohiha has much impact on the narrative. This may simply set up later relations between Baekje, Nimna, and Yamato.
Personally, I think it is probably indicative of the fact that Yamato’s control remained somewhat tenuous. There were still various actors out there who were able to rouse forces and cause trouble. In fact, the lack of any action by Yamato in this matter is interesting. Why weren’t they rushing to help their ally, Baekje? Why weren’t they ensuring the trade ports remain open? Were they actually supporting Ohiha in some way? Unfortunately, I’m not sure what to tell you, as this doesn’t really appear in the other Chronicles that I’ve seen.
And that’s where the reign of Woke ends, in 487. The Nihon Shoki says that he reigned for a mere three years—the Kojiki generously gives him eight, but it seems less reliable in such matters, generally speaking. I guess it is possible, once again, that there were co-rulers—perhaps Ohoke and Woke were ruling together. Whatever the truth, it is still obscured by the past.
Woke passed away without any direct descendants to take the throne, and so it would go to his older brother, Ohoke, who would come to be known as Ninken Tennou. Expect to hear his story in the next episode.
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

Episode 66: A Challenger Appears!

June 16, 2022 Joshua Badgley

Entrance to Kitahanauchi Ōtsuka Kofun, a round-keyhole tomb mound said to be the resting place of Iitoyo, a possibly non-heteronormative woman who may be an uncredited sovereign of ancient Yamato. Photo is public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

RSS

Archives

This episode dives into just what happened to help solve the looming succession crisis due to Shiraga Ōkimi’s lack of offspring to designate as heirs. Note that there are definitely spoilers for the episode, below. You’ve been warned.

Dramatis Personae

Oke and Woke

For those who have been somewhat confused by the names I apologize, but this episode isn’t going to get any better—and it is possibly worse. Much of the narrative focuses on these two brothers, and I’ve seen their names transcribed in a number of ways, all very similar. Students of modern Japanese may note that “Wo” is really just pronounced “O” these days, and only used as a particle marker, but here I’ve chosen, along with others, to keep the archaic “Wo” instead of the modern “O” as a marker to help distinguish between the two.

The Kojiki has these as as 冨祁 (Oke) and袁祁 (Woke), and the Nihon Shoki has 億計 (Ohoke) and 弘計 (Woke) [Romanized transcription via Aston, though he claims to take it from his reading of the Kojiki]. In the Kujiki, Bentley tells us that it is 雄計 (Woke) for the younger brother, and transcribes the elder brother as “Oke” (Or, more appropriately, Okye and Wokye).

If Aston’s transcription is correct, then I can see this as Opoke (Big/Elder Ke) and Woke (Small/Younger Ke), though that still doesn’t tell us a lot, though we have seen that dichotomy elsewhere in the Chronicles. The fact that they don’t use 大 and 小, though, does make me wonder. Other explanations suggest that “Oke - Oke” is called out during a particular dance, and that this may be why their names are as they are. And so I guess as I spell it out we’ll content ourselves with Oke and Woke, with Oke being the elder, and Woke being the younger brother.

I am also still wondering about the names “Kume no Shimako” and “Kume no Wakako” that also seem to be applied to them. I considered using those, but honestly, it is not how you are going to encounter them elsewhere, and I think we have generally just given up with trying to make it “make sense” beyond what it is.

Iitoyo

Aka Ihitoyo, she is an interesting figure. She is either the sister or aunt to Oke and Woke, and some footnotes make her their maternal aunt, vice their paternal aunt. Either way, she is something of an interesting figure in that she appears to be a female ruler, even if just briefly. Some have suggested that she originates in the “Toyo” that followed Himiko in the Wei records, but I think that is a bit of a stretch. We definitely seem to be getting into more well-sourced history, here, even if things are still distorted by time and bias.

Speaking of bias, I’ll admit that what I read into the story of her decision to eschew sex certainly is colored by my own bias. On the one hand, I want to be careful reading too much into things and we should always be cautious about trying to assign someone else an identity. On the other hand, I think representation is important, and it is helpful to see beyond the heteronormative social structures that are built up around what society tells us a man and woman should do and be.

In fact, western views of gender roles and gender norms don’t exactly fit Japanese society through much of its history. This isn’t to say that they didn’t have cultural norms, just that we will see time and again where those constructed cultural norms may not be what we, ourselves, expect.

Locations

This entire episode, including the murder of Ichinobe, all takes place in an area from about modern Kobe in the west to the area around Lake Biwa, and, of course, down to the Nara Basin. Prominently mentioned are Ōmi (aka Afumi), Yamashiro, Tanba, Harima, and Settsu—as well as areas indicating Kawachi and Yamato. This is probably reflective of the area of more direct Yamato control at the time, including the strongholds of the families that made up the Yamato court.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan, my name is Joshua and this is Episode 66: A Challenger Appears!
In this episode we’ll deal with murder and revenge, against both the living and the dead. We’ll also briefly discuss someone who may have been the first LGBTQ+ ruler of Yamato—or at least she is in my head canon; I’ll leave you to make your own judgments there. But of course, first off, we have to deal with where we left off last episode.
A brief recap: At this point, Yamato seemed to be in pretty good shape. Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuryaku Tenno, who we’ve spent several episodes talking about, had done well by Yamato, at least on the archipelago. He had expanded power by consolidating various industries into familial Be structures that reported to a head in the Yamato court. And sure, there were political differences with Kibi, but that state and others were copying Yamato’s kingly round-keyhole style tombs, at least, so clearly Yamato influence had spread. Even if they didn’t have direct control, they seem to have been at least primus inter pares—first among equals.
However, the royal family was not exactly in a great place. Even before coming to the throne, Wakatake had pruned the branches, killing his own brothers and his cousin in order to rule. And towards the end of his reign, he had no children with his queen, but he did have Prince Shiraga, his son with Kara Hime, who he made Crown Prince. He did have two other sons by Kibi no Waka Hime, but one of them, Prince Hoshikawa, tried to usurp the throne. Soon he and all of Waka Hime’s other children were wiped out, leaving only Shiraga, known to us as Seinei Tennou.
And now, here was Shiraga, childless, without any heir to succeed him. We talked about his brief and pretty uneventful rule last episode. It looked like the royal line was going to die out with him, leaving the throne of Yamato empty, and no doubt setting off a period of violent fighting for the throne.
And yet, we still have the royal line: the Imperial Household is still a thing, even to this day, and they claim an unbroken line of descent all the way back to the Heavenly Descendant. While some may question just how unbroken that line really is, the Chronicles, at least, support this claim, so what happened at this turning point in the succession? Was there a miracle birth? Did Shiraga finally find a woman and settle down?
Well, according to the Chronicles, what happened was thanks to a man by the name of Wodate of the Kume Be of Iyo, the lord of the land of Harima. In 481, he arrived at the court, fresh from a trip to the district of Akashi, and he had quite the story to tell.
You see, Wodate had been sent out to collect taxes in preparation for the Daijosai, the Feast of First Fruits. This is similar to the Ninamesai, which celebrates the first fruits of the harvest every year, except that the Daijosai was celebrated at the start of a new reign—in this case, the reign of Shiraga no Ohokimi.
When Wodate arrived in Akashi, the local lord was named Hosome, the chief of Oshinomi Be and the Obito, or head, of the granaries of Shijimi. Hosome welcomed Wodate and invited him to a house-warming feast in honor of his newly built muro—a large pit-house that seems to have been designated for communal gatherings of some kind. A fire was lit, probably in the center of the muro, and it was tended by two boys whose job it was to keep it lit.
Hosome and his guests feasted and reveled deep into the night. At one point, after all of the guests had taken turns dancing, Wodate came to notice the two boys keeping the fire. They were somewhat precocious, being extremely courteous, and Wodate offered to play music while they got up and danced.
At first the two boys—brothers, it turns out—deferred to one another, each offering the other the honor of going first. This went on so long that Wodate had to interrupt them and tell them to just go already.
First up was the older brother. He danced to the sound of the Wodate’s music, and when he was finished, his younger brother stood up.
At first he sang a song toasting the health of the new muro, and Hosome, the master of the house.
After that, he sang another song, accompanied with music, which impressed Wodate who asked for more.
And so the younger brother danced something that the Nihon Shoki calls a “Tatsutsu dance”, which meant that he stood up and sat down during the dance. During this he sang:
Of Yamato
The Rustling Reed Plain
The Reed Plain
The younger Prince am I.
And if you didn’t just catch that, yes, this young fire tender was basically making a claim that he was a Prince of Yamato.
Well, now, this was quite the turn. Wodate was astonished—floored, I dare say—and yet also intrigued. He asked him to go on and give another song.
Without even hesitating, the younger brother obliged:
The sacred cedar
Of Furu in Isonokami--
Its stem is severed,
Its branches are stripped off.
Of him who in the Palace of Ichinobe
Governed all under Heaven,
The myriad Heavens,
The myriad lands--
Of Oshiha no Mikoto
The august children are we.
There was no mistaking it this time. This young servant was claiming that he and his brother were, in fact, the children of Ichinobe no Oshiha no Mikoto, and thus they were princes of royal blood, and potential heirs to the throne.
Now to dig into this a bit we are going to have to go back in time somewhat—back to just before Wakatake came to power, which we covered in episode 57. At that time, Wakatake’s older brother, Anaho, had been sovereign, known to us today as Ankou Tennou. He was killed by his own stepson who blamed Anaho for killing the boy’s father and then taking his mother as his wife. This kicked off a chain of events, during which Wakatake, claiming to seek justice, killed his other brothers as well as the young boy and those who harbored him. But that wasn’t enough, because Wakatake was guilty of that same crime of which Brutus accused Caesar, at least according to the bard—he was ambitious. And if he wanted to attain the highest position in the land it wasn’t just his brothers he had to contend with. No, there was one more obstacle in his way: Ichiniohe no Oshiha.
Ichinobe—probably Itinobe, at the time—was the son of Izaho Wake, aka Richuu Tennou, Anaho and Wakatake’s uncle – so, he was their cousin, basically. Izaho Wake, Ichinobe’s father, was the first successor to his father, Ohosazaki no Mikoto, aka Nintoku Tenno, so the senior of the three brotherly sovereigns. When Izaho passed away, his son, Ichinobe, was still a young boy, and so the throne passed to Izaho’s brother, Midzuha Wake, also known to us as Hanzei Tenno. But even Midzuha’s reign was short, only four years or so, and he had no sons of his own and Ichinobe was still a young boy, so the throne passed again, this time to the younger brother, Woasatsuma, aka Ingyo Tenno. Unlike his brothers, he had quite a few children, and a reign of forty years or more—at least according to the Nihon Shoki, at least. And so he passed the throne onto his son, Anaho.
Anaho had no children of his own by the time he died, but he did have a cousin, along with his many brothers. If the Nihon Shoki is to be believed, he had chosen this cousin, Ichinobe, as his successor. After all, Ichinobe, while of the same generation, was the son of the senior of the three previous sovereigns, so this would seem to make some logical sense. Thus, theoretically, Ichinobe should have succeeded Anaho—and it is quite possible that he did. In fact, in the Kojiki’s telling of the story of the two brothers, the younger brother—who is named Woke, by the way—makes the express claim that Ichinobe did, in fact, rule the country at some point. In the Chronicles, however, it is made clear that Ichinobe hadn’t quite ascended by the time that Wakatake, with the help of a man named Karabukuro, invited Ichinobe out on a hunt. There, on the moors of Karano, Wakatake shot and killed Ichinobe, burying him and his servant in an unmarked grave, without even a tomb mound to mark his resting place.
Now as it happens, word of Ichinobe’s death had made it back to his household before Wakatake had returned. Immediately, the household became worried—especially Ichinobe’s two sons. After all, if Wakatake came back and found them, he might decide to completely finish the job. And so they took off, fearing for their lives.
These two sons were Ohoke, the elder brother, and Woke, the younger brother—and don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep them straight in the narrative. In truth, at the time, they were probably known more as Opoke and Woke, which was at least a little more clear—which I assume was meant as something like “Ke the Elder”, that’s Ohoke, and “Ke the Younger”, that’s Woke. There are two other names—Wakako and Shimako—but to be honest I see them referred to as Ohoke and Woke so much I think we’ll stick with that.
These two brothers were accompanied by their attendant, Kusakabe no Muraji no Omi—where Omi was a name, not a kabane—as well as Omi’s son, Ada Hiko. According to the Kojiki, as they fled together they came to Karihawi in Yamashiro. There they paused to eat when a man with a tattoo on his face came by and seized their food. He was Ikahi, the boar-keeper, of Yamashiro.
Hungry and without provisions, Ohoke and Woke and their crew made their way across the land, finding what food they could. The Nihon Shoki claims they traveled to Yosa district, in the province of Tamba.
Here, as they were essentially in their own version of witness protection program, their attendant, Omi, took on a new name, Tatoku. But the threat of being found out continued to weigh on him. The Nihon Shoki tells us that he ran away to a cave on Mt. Shijimi, where he strangled himself, so as to remove the possible threat. The two brothers, who didn’t know where Omi had gone off to, went searching for him. They called themselves the Tamba no Waraha, or the Boys of Tamba, and eventually they wound up in Akashi, working as servants for Hosome – you know, the guy who built the fancy new muro and held a party, at the beginning of this story. Meanwhile, Ada Hiko, Omi’s son, continued to serve and support them in their exile.
The Harima Fudoki, compiled from stories about the places in Harima, has a slightly different take on all of this. In the section on Shijimi, in the district of Minagi, it has several stories that connect the area to the princes Ohoke and Woke’s grandfather, Izaho Wake, but it also tells the story of how they came there, to Shijimi, in their youth. This was after the murder of their father, whom the Fudoki goes so far as to name as “Sumera Mikoto”, a title seemingly reserved for an actual sovereign, lending a little more credence to the idea that Ichinobe was more than just the Crown Prince.
Their attendant, Omi, secured shelter for the boys in a stone cave near the village of Shijimi, where Omi let go of their horses and burned all of their belongings, so that they would have nothing that might alert people as to their status. After doing all of that, he strangled himself, as in the Nihon Shoki, although the Harima Fudoki claims he did so because of the grave offense he was committing in hiding the boys from the sovereign, Ohohatsuse Wakatake, and the Yamato court.
The young boys went from place to place, changing where they stayed, until they finally sought refuge with Itomi, the village chief of Shijimi, offering to be his servants. Here it would appear that Itomi and Hosome are one and the same person, or at least play the same role as the lord of Shijimi.
From there the story of their discovery is very similar to what is told in the Nihon Shoki. During the dedication of a new muro for their lord, the two princes-in-hiding are set the task of making sure that the fire stayed lit. As the night dragged on, they were called on to sing and dance, and each deferred to the other until finally the younger brother, Woke, sang a song that revealed their status as sons of the rightful sovereign, Ichinobe. In the Harima account, Wodate, of the Yamabe no Muraji, was simply a guest of Itomi, the head of Shijimi village, but when he heard their song he spoke up. He offered to take the princes back to their mother, who is named here as princess Tashiraga, possibly another name for their mother in the Nihon Shoki, Princess Haye-Hime.
In any case, it is still Wodate who revealed the existence of the young princes, Ohoke and Woke, to the Yamato court, which quite conveniently solved the current succession crisis that was keeping Shiraga (and everybody else) awake at night. After all, if Shiraga passed away before an heir could be found, who knows what kind of violence could have erupted with the throne up for grabs. As Wodate sent word back to the court, he also sprang for a temporary palace for the two boys, made, we are told, of brushwood—likely an indication of how hastily it was put together, probably similar to those temporary palaces made for visiting sovereigns when they traveled. This must have been quite the surprise to the people of Akashi, who had known these two merely as servants of Hosome—the lost boys of Tamba.
When news of the two princes reached Shiraga, he was over the moon. He exclaimed how he suddenly had two children, where he had previously had none. He had them brought to the court. At Settsu they were met by the Omi and the Muraji, who escorted them the rest of the way to the court, where they were welcomed back.
According to the Nihon Shoki, the older brother, Ohoke, was designated as Crown Prince and successor to Shiraga, and the younger brother, Woke, was restored in status to a royal prince. Presumably they were also reunited with their family—their mother whom the Harima Fudoki claimed was still pining for them, as well as their sister, Ihitoyo, whom I assume had remained—she is mentioned consistently in the various Chronicles, although not always exactly the same. For instance, the Nihon Shoki and the Sendai Kuji Hongi claim she was their sister while the Kojiki has a slightly different narrative, claiming she was their aunt. In either case, she isn’t mentioned as part of their exile, which merely references the two young boys and their attendants.
Of course, the sovereign’s own joy was short-lived, as was his reign. Some three years after the discovery of Ichinobe’s lost heirs, Shiraga himself passed away.
And as tragic a moment as that was, at least there shouldn’t be any question about the transition. After all, Shiraga had nominated the elder prince, Ohoke, as his successor. So that should be pretty cut and dried.
Right?
Right?
Yeah, it still wasn’t that easy. Not that there was anyone challenging them, necessarily, but rather it had to do with their nature. Just like during the dinner at Hosome’s banquet, the two brothers couldn’t stop deferring to each other, much as Ohosazaki and Wakairatsuko did after the death of Homuda Wake—see Episode 49 for details. The elder brother, the Crown Prince Ohoke, actually relinquished his right to rule. He claimed that if it were not for his younger brother, Prince Woke, Wodate never would have known it was them. He was the one that had suggested that they reveal themselves, and then he actually did it—through poetry and song, nonetheless.
Since neither of them would take the throne, a third person stepped in: their sister, Ihitoyo. Well, again, the Kojiki says she was their aunt—and even claims that she stepped in before the two were rediscovered, and that she was on the throne until they could be brought back and then she handed over the reigns of power to them.
In both cases, Ihitoyo is described as basically being a sovereign in all but name—perhaps because she ruled for less than a year—according to the Nihon Shoki, at least—something she seems to have had in common with Prince Ichinobe, though in her case she does seem to have at least been recognized for her time on the throne, even if she doesn’t merit an entry in the “official” list of sovereigns
There is one other interesting note about Ihitoyo in the Chronicles. It was actually one of those episodes that Aston found a little too salacious to just put out there in the open in plain English, and so he wrote his version of it in Latin. We also have the same story in Sendai Kuji Hongi—the Kujiki—where Bentley does not treat it as quite a scandal. For my part, I’ll let you decide.
So Ihitoyo was dwelling in the Tsunozashi palace when she first had intercourse—it is unclear if it was with her spouse or if she was unmarried at the time, and whether it was with one person, or more than one. However, apparently she was unimpressed by this socially expected act, and made up her mind that since she had known the ways of a woman she no longer needed to have sex with a man ever again.
Now, that’s it. It is just one small part of the story and they could easily have left it out. Perhaps they were using it to justify why she didn’t have any offspring of her own, or perhaps it was something like Elizabeth being a virgin queen—giving up female things to take on a male role in society. Or perhaps it was meant as some kind of slander, or even to explain why she didn’t have offspring of her own to pass the throne on to. Personally I like to think that maybe heteronormative relationship dynamics just weren’t her thing, and after trying it out, as was culturally expected of her, she decided that was it, and she didn’t need to do that anymore.
If that is the case, does that mean that, at least for a short time, Yamato was possibly being run by a queer female ruler? I like to think so. At the very least, though, it begs the question: Why wasn’t she on Wakatake’s hitlist, like so many other people were?
It is possible that she wasn’t as much of a threat—the Kojiki suggests that she was a maternal aunt, not an elder sister, which brings up even further questions, though she was still a direct descendant of a previous sovereign, it seems.
Now, even if she was clearly considered a possible candidate for the throne, I suspect that there was enough patriarchal sentiment that, even if there wasn’t necessarily a clear precedent between siblings and nephews, there was probably a preference for male heirs—a far cry from the time of Queen Himiko.
Regrettably, her time on the throne was limited. According to the Nihon Shoki, she took the throne in the first month, but then died in the 11th month—of what we don’t know, but she was buried at Haniguchi hillin Katsuraki. This is currently identified by the Imperial Household Agency as Kitahanauchi Ohotsuka kofun, a kingly, round-keyhole shaped mausoleum, about 90 meters in length.
Though never an official sovereign in the Chronicles, she is remembered by some as Ihitoyo Tennou from at least the 12th century, and while generally not listed in any of the official regnal lists, various historians have added her in to their own. Mizuno Yu even went so far at one point to suggest that this entire period was actually her reign, and that all these stories of Ohoke and Woke were just to cover it up. Much as with Ichinobe, there are a lot of questions, and no clear answers.
Now, with Iitoyo’s untimely death, the court needed an actual answer from the two princes.At long last the elder brother, Ohoke, prevailed upon his younger brother, Woke, to take the throne, which he did, becoming the sovereign known as Kenzou Tennou.
Now sovereign, Woke took care of the required business of setting up his court, but then got straight into his first priority—getting justice for his father. First and foremost, that meant finding his unmarked grave—no easy task given all the time that had passed. He sent out word throughout the realm looking for anyone who might have information on his whereabouts.
From this missive, a woman named Okime came forward. She was an old woman, but she remembered the incident and she claimed to know where Ichinobe’s body had been buried. And so she took the two brothers, Prince Ohoke and the sovereign, Woke, out to the moor of Kaya—or Kayano—and sure enough they found an unmarked grave, and it had two bodies in it. After all, it wasn’t just Ichinobe who had been killed, but his servant, Nakachiko, as well. They were able to tell the skulls apart—the Kojiki claims that Ichinobe had “multiple teeth” like a sakikusa—a lily with three-pronged branches. Some of have suggested this may be a reference to some kind of tooth deformation, though we haven’t really found much evidence for that practice since the start of the Yayoi period, as far as I’m aware. Still, there were apparently enough distinguishing marks to prove that it was Ichinobe and his servant, though beyond the skulls it was impossible to sort out the rest of the remains.
And so they built twin tombs on a mountain east of the Kaya plain, burying remains in each of them, so that they were both honored. A tomb claiming to be Ichinobe’s can be found in Higashi-omi, east of Lake Biwa, in modern Shiga prefecture. It is one of two circular kofun that are said to date to the 5th century. To the east of that—still within Higashi-omi, there is another kofun that claims to be Ichinobe’s final resting place. It is Kuma-no-mori in the modern Myohoji district of Higashi-omi. While there appears to be only the one tomb, it is a kingly rounded-keyhole tomb, lending some credence to the idea that it would have been more fit for a royal prince—and possible sovereign.
I would note that neither of these are exactly on a “mountain” east of Kayano, but they are both in the general vicinity. Furthermore, there is a later note that the remains were dug up once more and eventually moved closer to Yamato, where the tomb could be more properly attended to, so it is possible that neither one is truly Ichinobe’s “last” resting place.
Wherever the tombs were built—or the remains moved to—Woke was pleased to see his father properly recognized at last, and for leading them to the spot he rewarded Okime. In fact, he had a house built for her near his palace, and he even put up a rope between her door and his so that she could use it to help walk to the palace. He even installed a bell that she could ring so that he would know she was coming. He supposedly had her visit quite frequently, but eventually, her age caught up to her, and even with the rope, Okime could no longer make the journey. She asked to be allowed to return to her home in Afumi, where she could spend the rest of her days in the place that she had lived for so long. The sovereign agreed, and sent her off with a small fortune to take with her.
Now, with Ichinobe’s remains properly buried, you might think that was it, but Woke still felt unsettled. There were a few more debts he felt he needed to take care of. For one, he had Karabukuro, Wakatake’s attendant during the whole father-murder thing, taken into custody, with the intent to put him to death. For his complicity in this act, Woke wished to put Karabukuro to death. But when Karabukuro no Sukune approached, he bowed his head, and appeared to show remorse for the part he had played, and this touched the sovereign’s heart, so that he decided he would not have him put to death. Instead, Karabukuro’s name was erased from the rolls. He was given the charge to oversee Ichinobe’s tomb, and was consequently placed under the charge of the Yamabe no Muraji.
Speaking of the Yamabe no Muraji, here we see that it wasn’t all about retribution with Woke no Ohokimi. For Wodate, who had found the two brothers and helped bring them back to Yamato, was granted his heart’s desire. He was given charge of the Mountain Office—likely something akin to the Ohoyamamori, with jurisdication over the mountains and forests. This also placed him over the Yama Be no Muraji—the Be of the Mountains, which was likely tasked with overseeing the care of the forests for purposes of hunting and suchlike.
Of course, it wasn’t all rewards—there were still more people that Woke had grudges against, and, in another act of retribution, the sovereign sent out people looking for the tattooed bandit, Ikahi the boar-keeper, who had stolen the brother’s food when they were on the run. He was apparently still alive, and so probably an old man, but that didn’t matter to Woke’s sense of justice. According to the Kojiki, he had him executed by the bed of the Asuka River, and then they severed the tendons of all of his relatives. This kind of punishment—and reward—of an entire family for the act of one is something we’ve seen before, and goes along with the general system of kabane rankings, where it was more the family’s rank, not just an individual’s, that was affected by the actions of its members.
All of this done, something still did not sit right with Woke. Had Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuryaku Tenno, still been living then Woke would have likely had him put to death as well. And let’s face it, we’ve spent quite a few episodes talking about how Wakatake, while advancing Yamato’s interests, was an all-around jerk over and above being the murderer of Woke’s dad. But since Wakatake had died, that option for revenge was taken from Woke, and yet still he felt the need to do something. Since he couldn’t kill Wakatake, he decided the next best thing would be to destroy his memory. And so Woke ordered that men be assembled to dig up and destroy Wakatake’s tomb.
When Woke’s older brother, Prince Ohoke, heard what the sovereign wanted to do, he stepped in. At first, he tried to dissuade his brother, but, seeing that his younger brother was committed to this course of action, Prince Ohoke requested that he be put in charge of the destruction.
And so he went out there with the workers that had been gathered to the tomb of Wakatake, but when he got there he didn’t level the tomb. Rather, he went up to the side of the tomb, and he dug a hole in the side. After making this small hole he returned to his brother and told him that the tomb was “dug up” and that it had thus been demolished. But when Woke, the sovereign, asked his older brother how he had accomplished this feat, Ohoke told him how he had dug up a small amount of earth on the side.
The sovereign was likely dumbfounded at this point. I mean, technically I guess, yes, he did “dig up” the tomb, but how exactly was it demolished.
At this point Prince Ohoke laid out his case. He noted that yes, their desire for revenge was justified, no doubt about that. On the other hand, whatever beef they had with him, Wakatake was still an uncle and, on top of that, he had been sovereign of Yamato. To now fully demolish his tomb would set quite the precedent—one that the current sovereign of Yamato may want to consider the ramifications of. How would future generations judge them? And yet, by digging a hole and disrupting the shape of the kofun, even just a little bit, they had nonetheless placed a mark of shame upon their uncle. Ohoke suggested that, given everything else, this was a just punishment, and that Wakatake’s dishonour would be known for generations to come.
And, if you think about how the Chroniclers treated Wakatake’s reign, I can’t say that Prince Ohoke was so far off. His younger brother, the sovereign, agreed with his reasoning, and decided to leave it at that.
And with that last bit of revenge, Woke seems to have been satisfied. Next episode we can focus more on the other deeds and happenings during this period.
Before we go there, however, a quick discussion of a few things that I discussed. Obviously, it is impossible to fully sort fact from fiction in these stories, and much of it has no doubt been romanticized in the telling, fitting into the cultural narrative that the Chroniclers were espousing. Even though the general dating of events seems to be getting more reliable, there is plenty of reason to doubt much of this narrative.
Of course, my first question tends to be about the reign of Ihitoyo, and if it was truly as short as it was. There seems so little mention of her time on the throne, and yet there seems to be general agreement that she did sit and rule, even if she isn’t counted in the royal line. No doubt later historians would count her merely a regent, but I wonder if that doesn’t do her a disservice.
Similarly, I’ve been asking the question of Ichinobe, and we saw how some of the accounts grant him titles that would imply he was also a fully ranked sovereign, even though the Chronicles don’t exactly give him that due in any official capacity. Personally, I tend to view his reign has quite probable at this point.
Now, whether Ohoke and Woke were actually his sons—that is certainly up for debate. Theoretically they had servants with them and people who could vouch for their status, but still, Wakatake’s reign is counted as roughly 23 years, and it was roughly 25 years from the death of Ichinobe to the princes’ discovery by Wodate. Were they truly the sons of Ichinobe, or was this a convenient excuse to keep the royal line intact?
One clue here may be in the names. It seems that the other names given for Ohoke and Woke are Kume no Shimako and Kume no Wakako. Interestingly, Wodate is apparently of the Kume Be, which would seem to make him plausible a servant of Kume. Now this appears in some places to refer to simply men of the military, but there is also the village of Kume, and it is often referred to as a family name. Of course, the royal line is never given a family name—that is a tactic that will later be used when there are a few too many princes of royal blood floating around. Got a few spare princes? Remove them from the succession by giving them surnames, adding them to created clans like the Minamoto and the Taira. So why would these princes be “Shimako” or “Wakako” of Kume? That seems slightly suspicious to me. Is it possible that they were not of royal blood at all, but that somehow the Kume family had managed to take over after Wakatake’s line ran out.
It is, as I said, hard to really know. While there is, I would say, a growing body of archaeological evidence as we move forward, I’m not aware of any actual contemporary text that calls out anything too specific. It isn’t like there is a sword out there inscribed with “From the reign of Woke no Ohokimi, who was absolutely the son of Ichinobe no Ohokimi and by no means was he simply from a powerful family.”
As far as the tombs go, based on Kishimoto’s classification, it would seem that one line of tombs appears to end with Oka-misanzai, which he identifies with Wakatakeru, and though he identifies three tombs—Minegazuka, Shiragayama, and Bokeyama—as being in the same mold as what he terms the main line—a tradition going back to Hashihaka Kofun itself—there isn’t a clear line of succession after Maenoyama—which he attributes to Shiraga—down to Bokeyama, which he attributes to Oke. In fact, things seem generally muddied between the brothers here, Ohoke, and Woke, and their descendant, known to us either Buretsu or Muretsu Tennou, but as we shall see, this episode wasn’t the last time the royal line would have to work its way back up the family tree to find an heir to keep things going.
But that is for a future episode. For now, we have Woke in place, and the royal line would appear to be secured. With his filial duties out of the way, Woke is now ready to take on the job of sovereign, and rule Yamato. The chronicles say that his time on the lam, and working as a servant, gave him a unique perspective on the plights of the people, and so they attribute to him a certain amount of benevolence in his approach to issues of the people. How that plays out, I’ll let you judge as we continue with his reign, next episode.
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

Episode 65: The Party King of Wa

June 1, 2022 Joshua Badgley

19th century artist’s depiction of Shiraga, aka Seinei Tennō

RSS

Archives

This episode we are looking at the rule of Shiraga (aka Shiraka), aka Seinei Tennō. His reign, according to the Nihon Shoki, is fairly short, and, to be honest, mostly concerned with his successor—an important subject given that he never seemed to marry or have any children of his own. But rather than worry too much about that, this episode asks the question of just how much can we trust the Chronicles?

In particular, there is still the mess of the Five Kings of Wa, with Kō sending an embassy in 462, and then Bu sending an embassy in 478 that arrives in 479. The 462 embassy lines up nicely with what we read in Wakatake’s lifetime, but everything else lines him up with Bu. However, what if “Bu” were really Shiraga? What does that tell us? This is one of the things we’ll go into in the episode.

Not much more, here, I’m afraid. Go listen to the episode and feel free to reach out with any questions or let me know your personal theories? Whom do you like for Bu and Kō? Or do you subscribe to one of the other theories, such as the idea that they were from Tsukushi or even from the Korean Peninsula?

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 65: The Party King of Wa.
This week I want to talk about Shiraga Takehiko Kunioshi Waka Yamatoneko, aka Seinei Tennou, the son and successor of Wakatake or Yuryaku Tennou. And along with discussing Shiraga’s life, we will also revisit some of the continental historical sources that we’ve touched on previously, looking at how they line up with what we’ve learned about these past couple of sovereigns.
In looking at Shiraga’s life, I can't help but think of the contrast between expectations and reality. It is often easy for us to discuss historical subjects when we already know the outcome. We talk up the English king Henry VIII and even Henry V quite a bit, because we know what they did. But then there are others who are perhaps not as well known, or whose reigns were not such a success. How much attention do we pay them? After all, Wakatake could have been killed early on in the fighting with his brothers, and then he would be remembered merely for an attempted coup, rather than the larger-than life figure we know him as.
Also, it is often hard to see the details of those standing behind a shining light in history. Sometimes that light illuminates, but often it blinds us to the potential of those around them, much as the Chronicles’ focus on the royal line often obscures the details of the other people who were working, often just as hard, to build Yamato and the culture of the archipelago.
So I want to keep in mind here the potential that Shiraga demonstrates as much as what he actually accomplishes, and try, somehow, to look beyond the bright light cast by his father, Wakatake.
Okay, so what do we know about how Shiraga came to the throne, and why? Last episode we left off with the death of Wakatake and then Crown Prince Shiraga securing the throne through the assistance of his prime minister, the Ohomuraji, Ohotomo no Muroya, as well as Yamato-Aya no Tsuka. Their forces had surrounded the royal Treasury, where a would-be usurper, Prince Hoshikawa, and his brothers had barricaded themselves in and then set the whole thing on fire, burning everyone inside. And with that, Crown Prince Shiraga was able to take the throne himself, becoming the ruler known to us, today, as Seinei Tennou.
Of course, the Chronicles also suggest that Shiraga wasn’t exactly new to the throne. Well, maybe. The Nihon Shoki claims that he was appointed at the end of Wakatake’s reign, as Wakatake was on his deathbed. This contrast in accounts is a good reminder of how the organization of the Chronicles—particularly the Nihon Shoki—isn’t always something we can take for granted. I don’t necessarily trust all of the dates as given, and, while it does seem that more was getting written down at this time, there isn’t necessarily agreement between the different sources. I attribute this to a few things. First of all, without any other evidence, I suspect a lot of this was still being transmitted orally, stories about the period that were passed down. Although the Chronicles seem to aspire to the idea of an official history of the era, it is really focused on these stories—though sometimes the format of those stories is that they get broken up across different months and years and there is a bit of a detective work and even assumption that needs to go in there. We’ll talk about that a little later when we look at the continental sources.
But back to the Chronicles. Shiraga has now taken the throne, one way or another. But what is he inheriting, and what kind of monarch is he going to be? As we know, he was the son of Wakatake, whose exploits have become legendary. There were courtiers serving the Yamato court from across the archipelago—from Musashi in the east to the land of Hi in the west. They laid claim to rights over Kara, Nimna, Silla, and Baekje—however much those same states may have protested, if asked. Furthermore, Shiraga was entering with some background and experience. And advisors: He had Muroya to help him run things, as well as Matori, the Oho-omi of the Heguri.
And at the same time, there was a certain chaos in the world. Baekje was still finding its footing after being devastated by Goguryeo, and even the mighty Liu Song would fall around the time of Wakatake’s death, in 479. A savvy leader may have looked to such a power vacuum and seen an opportunity for growth and further expansion of the power of the state.
Alas, none of this would come to be. Whatever Shiraga’s ambitions were, it seems clear that he was unable to fulfill them, as his reign would only last a brief four to five years after the death of Wakatake. He did not exactly spend that time idly, however.
At first, his reign was similar to any other—he went about establishing a palace for himself at Mikakuri in Iware, in modern day Sakurai, traditionally held to be near the site of the eventual Fujiwara palace of Temmu. Here he affirmed the various court officials in their offices, and raised his mother, Kara Hime, up to the status of Grand Consort.
He also ensured that the burial rites for his father, Wakatake, were carried out and is said to have had his father buried in the Takawashihara Tumulus, in Tajihi, in the land of Kawachi. The tomb traditionally assumed here is a relatively small tomb—as far as kingly tombs go—in Fujiidera. Kishimoto suggests that the actual tomb referenced may in fact be slightly to the southeast—the Misanzai Kofun attributed to Tarashi Nakatsu Hiko, aka Chuuai Tennou. They say that there were Hayato who lamented night and day at the tomb. During this time it is said they refused food and water, and after seven days like this, they died. A special tomb was created for them just north of the main tomb mound, where they were buried with great ceremony—an act that sounds suspiciously like the act of offering human sacrifice at a burial.
And with that rather depressing episode of his father’s burial out of the way, there were some good times in the reign of Shiraga Ohokimi. For instance, there was a banquet thrown in the winter of 482, when the Omi and Muraji were both feasted in the great court and Shiraga just gave away presents of silk floss. The assembled nobles were allowed to take as much as they wanted. It is said that they went forth exerting their “utmost strength”. I can picture it now—bellies full of meat and heads full of sake, these nobles trying to find how they can lift and take out of the court as much silk floss as possible, draping it over their arms, rolling it into balls, and generally trying to find ways to make it manageable so that they could be the one to take as much as possible back, where it could then be used to weave silk fabric and more.
And then, a month or so later, came envoys from territories across the sea with gifts, and they, too, were feasted and received various presents—probably in emulation of the imperial Chinese courts, which seem to have placed great value on the idea of providing more to their guests than they actually received as a way to demonstrate their own wealth and power.
Of course, as if these parties weren’t enough, the entire realm would get in on it. In the summer of 483, Shiraga instituted a nation-wide drinking festival, which lasted five days. That’s not exactly Oktoberfest, but I can only imagine the wonders it did for the sake industry at the time. This may have been in imitation of the Han emperor Ming Ti, who reigned from 58-75 CE, or it just may have been an excuse to drink. This festival hasn’t exactly made it down to us intact, possibly because it was held in an intercalary month, so it really wouldn’t come around that often. That said, it isn’t like you need much of an excuse to go drinking in Japan, today.
There are other stories of Shiraga releasing prisoners, possibly Emishi and Hayato, who are said to have rendered homage, possibly in thanks for letting their people out of bondage.
And then finally, we once again see him partying with the functionaries and envoys from overseas, this time in the Hall of Archery, which was apparently a thing. They all shot arrows and apparently had a grand old time, with even more gifts being given out. And honestly, I don’t know where he’s getting all of these gifts. After all, didn’t they basically burn down the royal treasury after Shiraga’s brother, Hoshikawa, had basically gone in there and disbursed a lot of it already? But times must have been good.
To read the Nihon Shoki account, Shiraga seems like a party animal, and maybe he was—and is that such a bad thing? We at least aren’t given any reason to think he was just randomly killing people because he had a bad day, unlike his father—he isn’t even shown raising normal armies for much of anything. He seems to just be enjoying himself.
And of course, the problem, at least from the point of view of the royal line is concerned, was that he was only enjoying himself. There is no mention of a wife or consort. He doesn’t even seem to have had women that he longed for. Perhaps he just wasn’t into women—or possibly he was even what we might call asexual, today. Or perhaps there was something else altogether. All we know is that he is not mentioned as having taken a wife, let alone producing any heirs, and that was going to be a problem.
Sure, Shiraga could create a few Be groups—there’s the Shiraga no Toneri Be, the Shiraga no Kashiwade Be, and the Shiraga no Yugehi Be. And so he knew that his name would live on, but that didn’t help him with his main predicament. His half-brothers had died in Prince Hoshikawa’s attempted revolution, and Wakatake had killed all of his own brothers, so it wasn’t as if there was a first cousin out there that he could pass it to.
The line of Wakatake was coming to an end, and they had done such a good job of pruning the family tree, that it was hard to see how the royal lineage would survive. This may not have been front and center of Shiraga’s mind—no doubt he thought he had plenty of time left to figure something out, but the fates would have other ideas. He would die in the first month of 484, childless, probably around 40 years old.
He didn’t leave the throne without an heir, however. He may not have expanded the territory of Yamato through conquest, nor had any great technological leaps during his reign, but he does appear to have kept things together and performed at least the most basic of functions of a dynastic monarch: Secure the throne for the next generation.
But who was the next generation? If Shiraga didn’t have kids, where did they come from? Did he just find some kids out in the street and say, “Hey, you… Wanna be the next sovereign of Yamato?” After all, there were rules to these things, weren’t there?
Well, we will discuss all of that in the next episode, when we talk about the brothers Woke and Ohoke and their sister, the would-be sovereign. So, that’s a little bit of a cliffhanger to leave you on.
But before that, I mentioned that we’d take another look at other records and resources of the time – those from the continent as well as the Japanese Chronicles, and also archeology – and see what they tell us in light of everything we’ve learned about Anaho, Wakatake, and Shiraga’s reigns. I know I’ve mentioned some of this before in episode 58, but it is once again very relevant, in addition to being pretty darn interesting, when we think about Shiraga taking the throne in 479 and leaving it in 484. So let me lay it all out again.
So first off, we have archeological evidence of the reign of Wakatake, aka Wakatakiru, through a couple of swords, one from Eta-Funayama kofun in Kumamoto, and the other from Inariyama kofun in Saitama. The latter is dated to either 411, 471, or 531 – that’s that wiggle room because of the sixty-year calendrical cycle - and claims that the individual referenced in the sword inscription served in Wakatake’s court. So one assumes that by 471, at least, there was a sovereign named Wakatakiru in Yamato, and he had enough influence to attract courtiers from across the archipelago. Wakatake’s entry in the Nihon Shoki has him ruling from 456 to 479, so that tracks with the 471 date so far.
Furthermore we previously discussed the Five Kings of Wa named in the records of the Liu Song. There are two kings that could theoretically reference Wakatake, assuming the dates of his reign in the Nihon Shoki are correct. Those are the Kings named “Kou” and “Bu”.
Here’s what the History of the Song has to say for both of them. This translation is largely thanks to Massimo Soumare’s translation in his book, “Japan in Five Ancient Chronicles”. It goes something like this:
“Sei died.
“His heir was Kou, who sent ambassadors and offered tribute. In the sixth year of the Daming era of Shizu (which is to say, the year 462), it was proclaimed by imperial edict: “Heir to the king of Wa, Kou – for generations you have shown your devotion and have built a domain in the open sea. You have received the influence (of China) and you pacify your borders. Respectfully, you bring tributes. Recently you have inherited the kingdom. It is our duty to benevolently grant you courtly rank and make you general and pacifier of the east and King of the Land of Wa.”
So that was Kou. It is implied that he was the heir to Sei, who sent their last embassy around 451, some eleven years prior. And the court granted the titles of general and pacifier of the East and reaffirmed his title as the King of Wa. And then we have little more. There is simply a note that he died and then we get the next entry:
“His younger brother Bu then rose to power. By himself he took the titles of regional military governor for the military affairs of all of the seven lands of Wa, Baekje, Silla, Nimna, Kara, Jinhan, and Mahan; great-general and pacifier of the east; and king of the land of Wa. In the second year of the Shengming era of Shundi (which is to say, 478) he sent ambassadors and had the following letter delivered: “My land is in a land far away, and I have built a domain in a remote place. From ancient times, my ancestors, donning armour themselves, travelled and crossed mountains and rivers. Without a single moment of repite in the east they conquered fifty-five countries of the hairy people, and in the west they subdued sixty-six countries of many barbarian people. Crossing the sea, they pacified ninety-five countries of the northern sea. They made the royal roads secure, extended the land, and brought far the borders of the emperor’s domain. For generations, they have been granted audiences and they have never strayed from the straight path. Despite being unworthy, I gratefully inherited the achievements whose measures reach the boundaries of the heavens, and passing along my road far away through Baekje, I armed the ships. And yet Goguryeo has no virtue, and craving destruction, assaults the people on the borders and does not cease to kill. We always delay, and therefore we lose glory.
“And even if we proceed on the road, sometimes we pass and sometimes we do not. My late father, Sei, grew greatly angry that the enemy was holding the heavenly road and assaulting us. One million bowmen were moved by the voice of justice and gathered, but I suddenly lost my father and my older brother, and even though the enterprise was at hand, I had to desist. I observed the mourning and did not move the army. Therefore, lying down, I slept and still I achieved no victories. Now making armour and deploying the army, I wish to proclaim the will of my father and senior brother. Justice-loving men, heroes, men of letters, and warriors ply the whole of their valour, and even in front of naked swords do not retreat. If, with the protection of the virtue of the emperor, my difficulties are solved by destroying this strong enemy, there will be no change in the previous acts. By myself, I set up a governing office and a titles similar to the one of Sangong was granted to me, and a charge given to my underlings: Even more will my fealty be strengthened.
“By imperial act were given to Bu the offices of regional military governor for the military affairs of all of the six countries of Wa, Silla, Nimna, Kara, Jinhan, and Mahan; great-general and pacifier of the east; and King of Wa.”
So based on these Liu Song records, King Bu was the brother of King Kou, and son of Sei. Kou appears as an inheritor of a rather martial lineage, making claim to peninsular rights, and claiming to wish to chastise Goguryeo itself—currently a powerful force that had only recently destroyed their rival, Baekje.
So why does this matter in an episode ostensibly about Shiraga?
Well, if Bu is Wakatake, as many take him to be – for understandable reasons, given how martial his reign is described as - then honestly, not much. But there is at least one theory out there that proposes that Wakatake was actually Kou, and Shiraga was Bu, which opens up a whole new series of questions and possibilities.
Now, as we heard, King Kou sent an embassy to the Liu Song which arrived in 462, while the embassy from Bu arrived in 479. Both of these dates do fall within the window of Wakatake’s reign, and on the face of it I have to admit that Bu as Wakatake makes some sense. After all, he did take over from his brother, Anaho, according to the Chronicles—though that does skip over Ichinohe and whatever his position was. Furthermore, the warlike and expansionist nature feels very much like Wakatake.
Furthermore, many people associate “Bu” with Wakatake, since the character “Bu” can be read as “Take” or “Takeru” in Japanese. And so people make the seemingly logical conclusion that the Liu Song chroniclers must have been using the latter part of Wakatake’s name to refer to him.
Except, that neither of the inscriptions we have of Wakatake’s name actually use that character—they both spell “Wakatakiru” phonetically. Furthermore, these were court officials, so one imagines that if there was anyone who knew how to spell Wakatake’s name, it would have been them. Even with the Chronicles, it isn’t certain: in fact, only the Nihon Shoki uses the same character for “Take” as the Song records do for “Bu”. The Kojiki uses something else entirely. This doesn’t mean Wakatake couldn’t be the same as Bu, just that I find the reasoning somewhat shaky.
However: Shiraga’s full name is given in the Nihon Shoki as Shiraga Takehiro Kunioshi Waka Yamatoneko, and the “Take” in Takehiro *is*, in fact, the same character as King “Bu” from the Liu Song records. We don’t have any swords with his name inscribed, from the period, so we can’t actually judge how they spelled it at the time, but could the King Bu, whose embassy arrived in 479, actually be Takehiro, aka Shiraga?
If we try to say that Bu is actually Shiraga, then we are left with a conundrum: was Shiraga actually Wakatake’s brother, vice his son? Or was Wakatake the one here termed “Sei”, instead? After all, Bu says it is his father who grew angry and gathered men to fight Goguryeo after they had “assaulted the people on the borders”—possibly referring to their destruction of the Baekje capital of Wiryeseong. Wakatake had certainly attempted to subdue Silla, at least, and there were the troops sent to help put the Baekje heir on the throne.
There are a couple ways to square this circle, and with it I think we get more information not just on Wakatake, but possibly on his heir, Shiraga. First off, let’s return to the idea that Wakatake is actually Bu. That would imply that Kou was actually Anaho, who must have reigned for a good bit longer than we are otherwise led to believe. Or perhaps Kou was Ichinohe, his cousin in the Chronicles—it may even be that Ichinohe or Anaho reigned alongside Wakatake for a bit as co-rulers. If that is the case, then we expect that Anaho or Ichinohe had just come to the throne in 462. That throws off a lot of our dates in the Nihon Shoki, and cuts Wakatake’s reign down even further—but it isn’t impossible.
Our second option is to take Wakatake as the last of the five kings, Kou. Per the Nihon Shoki, he would have still been somewhat new to the throne in 462. Realistically, that embassy was probably sent in 461, and would have taken a while to organize, so it is possible that it was sent while he was, indeed, new to the throne. This also appeals to me for its sense of timing. Multiple rulers had, at this point, sent tribute to the Song court and been recognized as Kings of Wa.
Which raises the question: Why would they have done such a thing? What was in it for them?
From what I can tell, we don’t seem to be in the era of regular communication and official diplomatic trade, though that likely did happen on these trips. It had to have been quite the journey, particularly at the time. Fortunately, we do have some information on these, mainly from the Song records themselves. While these records make some mention of tribute, they seem primarily concerned with the matter of titles. Kings of Wa would often declare their titles and ask for the court of the Liu Song to affirm them. These were often titles granting nominal overlordship to the Japanese archipelago and parts of the Korean peninsula. Multiple rulers had, by this time, received titles from the Song Court.
It would make sense that a sovereign would organize an embassy in the beginning of their reign to help solidify and legitimize their rule. In fact, I suspect it was becoming somewhat routine that when a new ruler would take the throne, there would be a period of internal shuffling while the court made sure that the ruler would last, probably putting down several attempts by various chieftains to break away or other royal family members to take the throne—a process that could take several years. After all of the dust settled, an embassy would be gathered and sent out—in this case to the Song court. That would allow for external validation of Yamato’s kingship process and likely bring back a healthy amount of continental goods that could be doled out in return for loyalty, as well.
It makes less sense to me that there would have been an embassy sent by Wakatake near the end of his reign, around 478. By the way, the history of the Southern Qi actually records that this embassy was in 479, which may be accounted for if one reads the Song records as saying when it was sent, vice the Southern Qi records as to when it arrived. Given that it was in 478, it is certainly possible that Wakatake’s illness may not yet have set in, and he may have still been quite healthy. It is also possible that, with the failure against Silla, he was indeed looking for the Song to support his ambitions on the peninsula, hence a second embassy was a smart political and diplomatic move.
Alternatively, one could also read this as a mission sent under Shiraga. Again, it would have been around the start of his reign, which makes sense—especially if he was made a co-ruler early on. Much of the violence ascribed to King Bu could be attributed to Wakatake’s reign and earlier, and it is entirely possible that Shiraga had planned to continue Wakatake’s campaigns on the peninsula and was looking for assistance from the Song or anyone else at the time. If that is the case, however, then perhaps either the Nihon Shoki or the Records of the Liu Song made a mistake in the familial relationship between either Kou and Bu or Wakatake and Shiraga.
Personally, I’m somewhat inclined towards the idea of Kou as Wakatake and Bu as Shiraga. While Wakatake certainly was the more warlike of the two, that may not have been known at the time that he sent his embassy. Similarly, Shiraga may have had grand plans to emulate Wakatake, who had certainly done his part to bring everything together. Who knew how it would turn out? At the same time, I acknowledge that there is a large amount of consensus around the idea that Wakatake is Bu, perhaps writing to Song at the height of his power.
Of course, either way, these embassies mattered little in the outcome, for, as I mentioned before, the days of the Liu Song were numbered. Their dynasty would fall, replaced by the Southern Qi dynasty. The actual record of the Song Dynasty was then compiled in this time; the first edict to record the history of the time was in 488, and it may not have been completed until sometime around 492 or 493. Given that it was building a story from the Song Records, it is entirely plausible that certain details may have been misremembered or misquoted.
How about what the Japanese Chronicles have to say on the matter? There is mention during Wakatake’s reign of contact with the continent and embassies to what we can assume was the Liu Song court around 462, but none after that. This leads me to believe that either the Chroniclers knew about the Song records and decided to associate Wakatake with Kou, or else there was another record of a visit around 462. In either case, it appears that the Chronicles, drawing from the Liu Song records, are associating Wakatake with Kou, if anything.
There is also the issue of Wakatake’s dates. There seems to be a general consensus that the dates from at least 462 to 479 would belong to Wakatake’s rule. If Wakatake is Kou, the dates in the Nihon Shoki would seem to work out just fine, especially if we assume that he and Shiraga were co-rulers for some period of time. On the other hand, if Wakatake is Bu, then there had to be some other ruler in 461 who had just come to the throne—again, possible if it was one of his relatives whom Wakatake then killed, possibly shortly afterwards.
And at this point I feel a bit like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern attempting to tell if the wind is southerly. In truth, there probably is no way of knowing unless some new and miraculous piece of evidence comes to us from the depths of the past.
It does, however, speak to my point, early on, about potential. It is so easy to forget about the potential and only to look at what was accomplished. The picture the Chronicles paint of Shiraga pales in comparison of their description of Wakatake. Whereas Wakatake was mercurial and violent and known for many great deeds, Shiraga feels only a little better than a placeholder. He is almost like Waka Tarashi Hiko, aka Keiko Tennou, who also died childless and would have to pass the throne to a different line. In fact, his biggest accomplishment, which we’ll go into next episode, was finding an heir. And so it is easy to overlook him.
But what if—what if he is Bu? What if that fiery speech and arrogant assumption of titles was this very same Shiraga Takehiko? He may not have lived as long, and his ambitions may never have lived up to his potential, but that doesn’t mean we should discount him altogether.
Similarly, there are all those we hear little to nothing about. Which of the supposed usurpers might have actually been the rightful heir to the throne, much as Ichinohe, only to have their potential stolen by another? Remember, history loves a winner, and it is the winners who get to shape it. But when we actually put ourselves there, not in the time of the chroniclers but in the time when these actions were taking place, history was not yet written. It was still to be. And for the countless people living in this time, there was no certainty of what was to come. The person they saw as their hero may come down to us as a villain. The person they were sure would be “most likely to succeed” may never be written about. Perhaps they didn’t live up to their potential, or perhaps they just didn’t live—it wasn’t necessarily the safest time to be alive.
So many stories out there, but we only have the one here, so that’s what we will continue to focus on.
Anyway, thank you for listening and letting me take this little diversion. It has honestly been something sitting in the back of my head for most of Wakatake’s reign and especially as I read through Shiraga’s own story. And now I can leave it here and move on to the next part of our narrative, as we figure out just who was going to succeed the childless Shiraga.
So until next episode, 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.
And thanks to those who have been talking us up on places like Facebook and Reddit and elsewhere. I don’t always have a chance to respond, but it is nice to see references out there, so thank you!
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. We would love to hear from you and your ideas.
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.
Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Kim, P., Shultz, E. J., Kang, H. H. W., & Han'guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn'guwŏn. (2012). The Koguryo annals of the Samguk sagi. Seongnam-si, Korea: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Soumaré, Massimo (2007), Japan in Five Ancient Chinese Chronicles: Wo, the Land of Yamatai, and Queen Himiko. ISBN: 978-4-902075-22-9.
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
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
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 64: The Prince in Waiting

May 16, 2022 Joshua Badgley

19th century artist’s depiction of Ōtomo no Muroya, the Ōmuraji who oversaw the transition from Wakatake to his son.

RSS

Archives

This episode we take stock of where things are by the end of Wakatake’s reign, summarizing how we got where we are, and look at the transition of power to his son, Prince Shiraga.

First, here’s a reference list of the sovereigns so far, including some of the possible sovereigns that don’t get posthumous regnal names by the Chroniclers. I’ve tried to give approximate dates based on what my own assumptions have been, but these are likely inaccurate:

	Name	Posthumous Regnal Name	Reign Dates per Nihon Shoki	Suspected Actual Regnal Dates	
	Iware Biko	Jimmu	660 – 585 BCE	Likely Fictional*	
	Kamu Nunakawa Mimi	Suizei	581 – 549 BCE	Likely Fictional*	
	Shiki tsu Hiko Tamatemi	Annei	549 – 511 BCE	Likely Fictional*	
	Ōyamato HIko Sukitomo	Itoku	510 – 477 BCE	Likely Fictional*	
	Mima tsu Hiko Kaeshine	Kōshō	475 – 393 BCE	Likely Fictional*	
	Yamato Tarashi Hiko Kunioshihito	Kōan	392 – 291 BCE	Likely Fictional*	
	Ō Yamato Neko Hiko Futoni	Kōrei	290 – 215 BCE	Likely Fictional*	
	Ō Yamato Neko Hiko Kunikuru	Kōgen	214 – 158 BCE	Likely Fictional*	
	Waka Yamato Neko Hiko Ōbibi	Kaika	158 – 98 BCE	Likely Fictional*	
	Yamato Totohi Momosu Hime**	(Himiko)	NA	189-248	
	Mimaki Iribiko Inie	Sujin	97 – 30 BCE	Mid-to-Late 3rd Century	
	Ikume Iribiko Isachi	Suinin	29 BCE – 70 CE	Late 3rd Century	
	Ō Tarashi Hiko Oshiro Wake	Keikō	71 – 130	Early 4th century	
	Wo’usu	Yamato Takeru	NA	Early 4th century	
	Waka Tarashi Hiko	Seimu	131 – 190	Early 4th century	
	Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko	Chūai	192 – 200	Mid 4th century	
	Okinaga Tarashi Hime	Jingū	201 – 269 (regent)	Mid-to-Late 4th century	
	Homuda Wake	Ōjin	270 – 310	Late 4th/early 5th century	
	Ōsazaki	Nintoku	313 – 399	Early 5th century	
	Ōeno Izaho Wake	Richū	400 – 405	Early 5th century	
	Mizuha Wake	Hanzei	406 – 410	Early-to-Mid 5th century	
	Oasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune	Ingyō	412 – 453	Mid 5th century	
	Anaho	Ankō	454 – 456	Mid 5th century	
	Ichinohe no Oshiwa	NA	NA	Mid 5th century	
	Ō Hatsuse Wakatake (Wakatakiru)	Yūryaku	456 – 479	Mid 5th century - 479	

* These rulers are likely fictional, or possibly based on some local lineage groups, given their short entries.  They are believed to be there to pad out the history even further.

** Himiko is never directly mentioned in the Chronicles, but may correspond to Yamato Totohi Momoso Hime, who is said to be buried in Hashihaka Kofun.

Of course, Kishimoto, as of 2013, had his own theory of the lineage, based on kingly kofun that he identifies through shape as part of either the “Main” or “Subisidiary” line of co-rulers. As you can see, none of this yields a perfect correlation. It should be noted that the kofun Kishimoto assigns each ruler is not necessarily that which is assigned to them by the Imperial Household Agency. As such, he has Oasazuma, not Ōsazaki, in Daisen kofun. Without further archaeological evidence to tie specific rulers to various tombs, much of our knowledge remains speculative.

	Main Line	 	Subsidiary Line	 	
	Himiko	d. 248	 	 	
	Toyo	(Late 3rd century)	Unknown (Sakurai Chausuyama)	Late 3rd Century	
	Mimaki Iribiko	Late 3rd to Early 4th Century	Unknown (Mesuriyama)	Late 3rd Century	
	Ikume Iribiko	Earl to Mid 4th century	Ō Tarashi Hiko	Early to Mid 4th century	
	 	 	Unknown (Saki Misasagiyama)	Early to Mid 4th Century	
	Unknown (Gosashi)	Late 4th century	Unknown (Saki Ishizukayama)	Late 4th century	
	 	 	Homuda Wake	d. 394	
	Ōsazaki	d. 432	Izaho Wake	d. 427	
	 	 	MIzuha Wake	d. 437	
	 	 	Ichinobe Oshiha Wake	Early 5th Century	
	Oasazuma	d. 454	Kinashi Karu	Late 5th century	
	Wakatakeru	d. 479	Shiraga	Late 5th century	

Who’s Who

Ōhatsuse Wakatake

Of course, Wakatake is the sovereign we’ve been discussing the most. Aka Yūryaku Tennō. While there are some that suggest earlier sovereigns are historical, Wakatake is the earliest to have wide agreement as to his existence and a high likelihood that at least some of the events in his reign are considered accurate.

Iware Biko

Aka Jimmu Tennō. Many believe him to be a fabrication to help justify Temmu’s own rebellion. In the story he displaces the descendants of another “Child of Heaven”, Nigi Hayahi no Mikoto. Those were the ancestors of the Mononobe and Owari families, possibly hearkening back to stories of ancient conflicts. Iware Biko started out in the land of Himuka—later known as Hyūga—in Kyūshū, and the conquest details his trek up the Seto Inland Sea.

The nine sovereigns who follow Iware Biko seem fairly clearly fabrications, meant to fill in the lineage. They may have been references to actual names or titles known in ancient stories, but for the most part they are given no import other than as a list of “begats” down to Mimaki Iribiko.

Mimaki and Ikume Iribiko

Aka Sujin and Suinin Tennō. Mimaki is actually given the title of “Founder of the Country”, which seems odd if he were actually the 10th sovereign to reign. Many of the events of Mimaki’s reign correspond with what we know of the latter 3rd century, from the location of his palace at the foot of Mt. Miwa, where we know there was a large early kofun settlement and palace, to the construction of Hashihaka Kofun, widely thought to be the resting place of Queen Himiko. While nothing can be directly confirmed, this period likely reflects the early creation of the state of Yamato as a major power in the archipelago, and may correspond with the time of Queens Himiko and Toyo, mentioned in the Wei Chronicles.

Much of the initial contact with the peninsula seems to be placed around this period, as well. This could simply be the spot where it was most convenient to place all of these stories, of course.

Ō Tarashi Hiko and Yamato Takeru

Aka Keikō Tennō and Wo’usu no Mikoto. This reign is remembered more for the stories of Yamato Takeru (Wo’usu no Mikoto) than anything else, but there is a lot here about apparent conflicts and conquests across the archipelago.

Waka Tarashi HIko

Aka Seimu Tennō. He seems to mark a break in the lineage, since after his death, the line passes to Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko, son of Yamato Takeru.

Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko

Aka Chūai Tennō. Descendant of Yamato Takeru, he continues the tradition of fighting the Kumaso, during which time he is killed. His Queen, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, takes over and begins her invasion of the Korean Peninsula.

Okinaga Tarashi Hime

Aka Jingū Kōgō, though later authors would give her the status of full sovereign, naming her Jingū Tennō. There are some who claim that she is an entirely fictional character, and she is certainly controversial. Given the timing of her reign, she is clearly meant to be the stand-in for Queen Himiko, and some of the references from the Wei Chronicles are directly mentioned, indicating that the compilers of the Nihon Shoki certainly knew about it as a source.

There is a lot of controversy over her supposed conquest of the Korean peninsula, especially as this was later used to justify Japanese occupation of the Korean peninsula during subsequent raids. Even today this often clouds issues surrounding her.

She seems to have been assisted greatly in her reign by Takeuchi (aka Takechi) no Sukune, the Ōmi, or Prime Minister. Takeuchi’s presence suggests that aspects of stories from the reign of Ō Tarashi Hiko to Ō Sazaki all took place in the span of roughly 80 years, during his lifetime.

Homuda Wake

Aka Ōjin Tennō. Many of the details around him are legendary. For example, it is said that he was born three years after he was conceived, his mother holding him in the womb until the invasion of the Korean peninsula was complete. He appears to have solidified relations with Baekje, beginning a tradition of Baekje princes coming to stay at the Yamato court. Writing and horses both come in during this reign, which would have allowed the influence of the central state to grow. He may also have been in charge of Wa forces on the peninsular during the time outlined in the Stele of Gwangaetto the Great.

He would later be enshrined as the god Hachiman, in Usa, where his spirit’s pronouncements would be used to political effect in the capital. Later, Hachiman would be taken as the patron kami of the MInamoto house, and the Hachiman Shrine is still central to the ancient samurai capital of Kamakura, even today.

Ōsazaki

Aka Nintoku Tennō. He came to power after three years of deferring to his younger brother. This may actually be an example of co-rulership, as he was appointed to administer the realm during the reign of their father, Homuda Wake. Eventually, however, he took sole rulership, according to the Nihon Shoki, anyway.

Izaho Wake and Mizuha Wake

These brothers, known as Richū and Hanzei Tennō, respectively, seem to have had relatively minor impact, based on the reading in the Chronicles, though it is possible that some of the accomplishments of their reigns were included elsewhere, especially if, as Kishimoto posits, they were part of the subsidiary line of co-rulers. According to the Nihon Shoki, during their short reigns they had no children of age to pass on the throne to, and so they passed it on to their siblings. This was likely not that rare of an occasion, as there was no clear tradition yet of succession, and theoretically the throne could be passed on to any qualified individual in the royal house, which also made transitions so tricky.

Oasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune

Aka Ingyō Tennō. Said to be brother to Izaho and MIzuha Wake, but there remains some doubt, partially in the naming—especially in the use of “Sukune”—but also in the “Kings of Wa” mentioned in the Liu Song dynasty, where there are only two brothers actually mentioned. He is said to have been disabled from a young age due to disease, but appears to have been healed by continental medicine.

Anaho

Aka Ankō Tennō. HIs brief reign came to an end when he was assassinated by his own stepson upon the latter learning of how his father had been slain on Anaho’s orders. This would kick off the turmoil that would eventually see Wakatake take the throne.

Ichinohe

Also transcribed as Ichinobe, This was the son of Izaho Wake, who had been too young, we are told, to take the throne upon his father’s death. Anaho reportedly wanted him to take the throne after his own reign ended, but this never happened. Or at least the Chroniclers don’t record it as happening. That could be a salve to avoid having Wakatake kill an enthroned sovereign to take power, claiming that he was never actually a sovereign to begin with, or it may be that they never got to the enthronement ceremony.

Ichinohe had two sons who fled into hiding when their father was killed, escaping to Harima.

Shiraga

The son of Wakatake and Kara Hime, he would eventually take the throne as Seinei Tennō. His mother, Kara Hime, is descended from the Katsuraki lineage, which has been a powerful lineage over the centuries. That she was never a Queen brings into question Shiraga’s legitimacy, to some extent, but the Queen Kusaka Hime, never produced an heir, and so Kara Hime’s children filled that void.

Katsuraki Lineage

The Katsuraki family appears to be a powerful lineage in ancient Japan. Okinaga Tarashi Hime may have come from them, as did Katsuraki no So tsu Hiko, a powerful noble and possibly even a king in his own right, who had significant dealings with the peninsula. His daughter, Iwa Hime, would become a Queen of Yamato, ensuring that future sovereigns were descended, in part from the Katsuraki house. Tsubura no Ōmi was apparently of the Katsuraki family, and held the granaries of Katsuraki, as well as his daughter, Kara Hime. Wakatake took both when he killed Tsubura no Ōmi for housing fugitive princes during Wakatake’s rise to power.

Some have suggested that “Kara Hime” may refer to her connections to the peninsula, as often many things from the continent were labelled in that manner.

Takuhata Hime

Although only briefly mentioned, Takuhata Hime was the Ise Priestess. She was also the daughter of Kara Hime and Wakatake, and thus sister to Prince Shiraga. Her status as Ise Priestess, along with Shiraga becoming Crown Prince, suggests that perhaps her mother was more than just a consort.

King Gaero of Baekje

King Gaero reigned from 455 to 475, so he was king of Baekje for most of the reign of Wakatake. He would have been the one to send Iketsu Hime, and eventually Prince Konji, of Baekje. He would die in the fall of the Baekje capital at Hanseong at the hands of Goguryeo.

Iketsu Hime

A woman of the Baekje court sent to be an uneme in Yamato. She had an illicit affair on her way to the court, and was eventually sentenced to death. This caused some diplomatic issues with Baekje, who refused to send other uneme, but they did still send Lord Kun, aka Prince Konji.

King Munju of Baekje

The Nihon Shoki claims he was the brother to King Gaero, while Korean records make him out to be Gaero’s son. However, the same Samguk Sagi and Samguk Yusa accounts claim that all of the sons of King Gaero were captured and taken to Goguryeo, and they also say that Munju rose to the position of Senior Counselor, a position that he was unlikely to be appointed to if he was a son of the sitting King, but would have made more sense if he was the King’s brother.

After the fall of Wiryeseong at Hanseong (Seoul) and the death of King Gaero, Munju would com to power. He set up the capital further south, at Gyongju in a place called Gomanaru, which then became Ungjin. The Japanese name for Gomanaru appears to be “Kumanari”, and the Nihon Shoki claims that this was Wa territory that Yamato granted to Baekje so that they could rebuild. This claim cannot be proven, however, and is not noted in the Korean sources.

Konji

Aka “Lord Gun” in the Nihon Shoki, he is said to be the younger brother of King Gaero who was sent to Yamato in 461. The Samguk Sagi doesn’t mention this, but instead claims that he was King Munju’s younger brother. Of course, if Munju was Gaero’s brother, it is possible that both those things are true, whereas if Konji was the Munju’s brother and therefore also Gaero’s son, then it would be odd that he wasn’t also taken by Goguryeo when they took “all of Gaero’s sons”.

Konji’s own son was Modae.

King Samgeun of Baekje

King Munju’s son. He came to the throne when he was only 13 years old.

Hae Ku

No, not a short poem. He was King Munju’s Minister of War, who rebelled and killed King Munju and then claimed the role of regent for the young Samgeun. He eventually tried to take over entirely, but was eventually stopped by the Baekje court.

King Modae

Also written as king “Mute” in the Nihon Shoki (and several other ways, all similar, in different Chinese sources), he was the son of Konji and came to power after the death of King Samgeun, who died without any heirs. The Nihon Shoki claims that he rose to power through the assistance of 500 men sent with him from the archipelago.

Ōtomo no Ōmuraji no Muroya

Muroya was the Ōmuraji of the Ōtomo no Muraji, which is to say he was the family head. He was also effectively the Prime Minister. Previous prime ministers were noted as Ōmi, which is to say the “Ō-omi”, where “Omi” meant “Minister”. But here we see a difference, as “Omi” became a kabane rank attached to a family rather than simply an individual. Since the Ōtomo had the Muraji rank, their head was “Ōmuraji”. One might wonder why the clan was not elevated to Omi status, and I suspect that the answer comes down to court politics. We see something similar with the Mononobe.

Muroya has had a long career up this point, generally assisting the sovereigns ever since Oasatsuma, where he helped set up his tryst with Sotohori Hime, against his Queen’s wishes. He would carry out several tasks for Wakatake before taking on administration of the court.

Heguri no Ōmi no Matori

We don’t actually know too much about him, but the Heguri themselves claim descent from Takeuchi no Sukune through his son, Heguri no Dzuku. They would appear to have been a powerful family, given that they were of the Omi kabane, but that may be misleading.

Mononobe no Ōmuraji no Me

According to the Nihon Shoki, he is made Ōmuraji during this reign, but in the Sendai Kuji Hongi, he doesn’t become Ōmuraji until the reign of Prince Shiraga. Either way, he is not one of those entrusted with the realm at this time.

Ki no Woyumi

Yamato general who was given an uneme to look after him as payment for taking the field. He negotiated this through Muroya, demonstrating the latter’s influence at court. He would eventually die on the Silla campaign.

Yamato-Aya no Atahe no Tsuka

Tsuka is often mentioned in the same breath with Muroya, and yet their kabane indicate they were of vastly different ranks. Accordingly we often see Muroya commanding Tsuka to take this or that action. His family name, Yamato-Aya or Yamato no Aya references that they were part of the Aya weaving families brought over from the continent. In this case it seems to be quite specifically the Aya who were settled in Yamato..

Kibi no Omi no Oshiro

Oshiro is mentioned elsewhere as a loyal general, taking the fight to Silla and all that, but he’s also a member of the Kibi no Omi. This would seem to imply that he was part of the family in charge of Kibi, although this brings into question much of how he is portrayed. Is he loyal to Yamato, or merely friendly? What is the relationship between Kibi and Yamato? There are many questions.

Prince Hoshikawa and Kibi no Waka Hime

One of the sons of Kibi no Waka Hime and Wakatake. Kibi no Waka Hime was previously the wife of Tasa no Omi, of Upper Kibi, with whom she had two sons: Yegimi and Otogimi (literally just the “elder lord” and the “younger lord”, we probably shouldn’t take these as actual names). Tasa no Omi was either killed or sent off in exile to be governor of Nimna. In the latter instance it was said that he convinced his son, Otogimi, to help him rebel, along with Silla and NImna, but Otogimi’s own wife got word and put a stop to it, and they both perished.

And so now Kibi no Waka Hime had her son by Tasa no Omi, Yegimi, and her two sons by Wakatake, Princes Iwaki (sometimes read Iwashiro) and Hoshikawa. Of course, one of the outcomes of marriage politics was attempts by various families to ensure that they were connected to the next sovereign, whatever that took, even if a Crown Prince had already been named.

And that should do it for most of players in this most recent episode. I hope that you enjoy, and feel free to reach out if you have any questions.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan! My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 64: The Prince in Waiting.
In this episode, I’m going to focus on the very end of Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuryaku Tenno’s, reign, and the question of his successor and the various high-ranking individuals that helped out that successor. But I’m going to start off this episode with a recap of sorts – of all the sovereigns we’ve talked about so far, at least the notable ones, that have brought us up to this date. Of course, this focuses on the sovereigns because that is the information we typically have. For the most part, particularly in the more legendary parts of the Chronicle, only the birth and death of the sovereigns are worth mentioning, and other characters appear only when they impact the story of the royal line, but we should take the time to realize that there were so many different individuals who were actually working to take things forward. This is often an issue for us, as we try to tell a story that people will actually be able to follow—the more names, the more difficult it can be to track what is going on, but that is also the complexity of real history. And so I hope you’ll forgive a summary that focuses largely on the reigns of different sovereigns that the Chroniclers found to be important during their time.
As we’ve heard throughout our tour of the Chronicles to-date, certain rulers stand out. Iware Biko, aka Jimmu Tennou, purportedly founded Yamato through conquest, marching—or perhaps rowing—his way up the Seto Inland Sea from Himuka, in Kyushu, and making a claim to the Nara Basin, displacing the locals, the ancestors of the Mononobe and Owari families. After nine truly unremarkable sovereigns, we then found ourselves in the time of the legendary sovereigns Mimaki and Ikume, the Iribiko dynasty, aka Sujin and Suinin Tennou. They ruled at the base of Mt. Miwa, associated with a powerful early Kofun era culture with links across the archipelago. Their reigns were filled with building early structures of statehood, conquest, and intercourse with the continent—in all likelihood based on events surrounding the rise of Yamato around the time of the historical Queen Himiko.
At this time, we know that intercession with spiritual powers was important to rulership, and the role of sovereign may have even been shared with co-rulers, who handled more of the mundane administration aspects. We regularly saw pairs of rulers, either male and female hiko-hime pairs, or else elder and younger ye-oto arrangements. It is not entirely clear what the actual relationship between these individuals were—if they were blood relatives, or married, or if it was some other power sharing arrangement.
Ohotarashi’s reign, meanwhile, was overshadowed by the warrior-prince, Wo-usu, more popularly known as Yamato Takeru, the Brave of Yamato. Though Yamato Takeru perished and never ruled, we are told that the new lineage that came to the throne after the death of Waka Tarashi Hiko, aka Seimu Tennou, claimed descent from the Brave of Yamato.
Of this next lineage, the Sovereign Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou, was credited with her own controversial military campaigns. Some claim she was a fictional character, created to explain continental claims of Himiko, and the official Chronicles only give her the status of regent—not of sovereign proper. However, they still have her ruling well into the time of her son, Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, with the help of her close advisor and prime minister, Takeuchi no Sukune.
Homuda Wake seems another pivotal figure, and he would eventually be canonized as the kami, Hachiman. Besides apparently sharing rule with his mother, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, Homuda Wake would later give administrative responsibility of the realm to his son, Ohosazaki, while appointing another son as Crown Prince.
Eventually, Ohosazaki, would come to the throne, where he is known to us as Nintoku Tennou. He is traditionally said to be buried in Daisen Kofun, one of the three largest mausoleums in the world—though there are those who question this designation. The next several sovereigns are said to be sons of Ohosazaki—Izaho Wake, Midzuha Wake, and Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune, aka Ritchuu Tennou, Hanzei Tennou, and Ingyou Tennou. Then there is Woasatsuma’s son, Anaho, aka Ankou Tennou, and while there are certainly various interesting stories during these reigns, none of these sovereigns seem to measure up to the sovereign who follows—Ohohatsuse Wakatake, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, who is the sovereign we’ve been discussing for the last few episodes.
Or at least the next official sovereign. Prince Ichinohe may have actually ruled for some period of time, but Wakatake killed him and his other brothers on his bloody climb up to the throne.
Somewhere in all of this was a series of envoys sent to the Liu Song court, which we assume came from Yamato, but which may have been from various other Wa groups—though the narrative certainly seems to indicate that they were all seen as rulers over the same territory and groups.
So, now where do things stand at the end of Wakatake’s reign?
Well, early on, Wakatake had taken the territory of Katsuraki—the area associated with individuals like Katsuraki no Sotsuhiko and his daughter and eventually royal queen of Yamato, Iwa Hime. In so doing, as he burned down the house of Tsubura no Oho-omi, he took Tsubura’s daughter, Kara Hime, as his own consort. Later we hear of various miraculous events that occurred in and around Katsuraki, further foot-stomping its importance. Of course, while never recognized, officially, as a queen, Kara-hime’s daughter Waka Hime, aka Takuhata Hime, was sent to be the Priestess at Ise, and her son, Prince Shiraga, would become Crown Prince and would eventually be given the keys to the kingdom even during his father’s reign, much as Ohosazaki had been given administrative control while Homuda Wake still reigned.
Before that, though, Wakatake apparently consolidated Yamato control of various industries throughout the archipelago, organizing various industries into the familial “Be” structures, putting disparate individuals together under a centralized organization based on constructed familial ties. Some of these were groups of people from the continent, bringing in new technologies, but some were local industries, such as clayworking, or even raising horses or keeping game birds. And that always gets me, because it just seems so wild from a modern perspective—to just gather up various people of a given industry and making them all relatives by simple fiat, setting up a family head that then reports to the court. In this way, even without direct control over the various local rulers, Yamato influence is further expanded.
And, of course, those other rulers still had some influence. Kibi, in particular, is mentioned time and again in ways that run counter to the interests of the Yamato court, both in the archipelago and on the Korean peninsula. Now, unsurprisingly, the Chroniclers don’t exactly mention any victories by Kibi or others—the lopsided view of what is going on in the archipelago is going to be a constant blind spot for us, at least up through the 8th century and even beyond, as so many of our sources come from those in the center and not on the peripheries.
Although many of the stories from this period still focus on the areas around Yamato and Kawachi, it is also clear, both from the Chronicles and from the reports in the history of the Liu Song, that the Wa—by which we suppose Yamato—was still very active on the Korean peninsula as well. Clearly, the animosity with Silla continued, but towards the end of Wakatake’s reign, attempts to chastise Silla seem to have failed, falling apart due to the bickering and infighting of the various generals—an issue that would plague Hideyoshi’s attempts to take the peninsula over a thousand years later.
And so, despite their apparent military might, it seems that towards the end of the reign, Wa power may not have been seen as quite as powerful as before, such that when their ally, Baekje, suffered an existential threat from Goguryeo they sent out a request not to Yamato, but rather to their adversarial neighbor, Silla. Granted, this could have been as much to do with distances, or even the possibility that there were already Wa troops in Baekje assisting with its defense.
Unfortunately, whatever help Baekje had been able to gather, it wasn’t enough. Baekje’s capital at Wiryeseong, near modern day Seoul, fell to Goguryeo in 475 in fighting that resulted in the death of King Gaero and the capture and imprisonment of all of his sons. Still, the Wa had a role to play, and the Nihon Shoki describes how Yamato once again helped restore the broken Baekje dynasty by supporting King Munju, King Gaero’s younger brother on his mother’s side,whom the Samguk Sagi claims was the one sent to negotiate with Silla for assistance.
This whole episode led to Baekje re-establishing their capital farther to the south, at Ungjin, in modern day Gongju. Ungjin is also apparently known as Gomanaru, which bears a striking resemblance to the name “Kumanari”, which the Nihon Shoki claims was given by Yamato to Baekje at this time. This is, as one can imagine, a bit of a controversial statement. It is more likely that “Kumanari” referred to some part of Nimna, and may have been territory controlled by “Wa” or their allies without necessarily being directly controlled by the distant Yamato court. However it came to be, King Munju ascended the Baekje throne, and kept the dynasty going from the new southern capital.
As a side-note, both the Samguk Sagi and the Samguk Yusa claim that Munju was actually the son of the late King Gaero, but as noted, early, the Nihon Shoki states that he was actually Gaero’s brother, instead. That is backed up by the fact that the Samguk Sagi claims that all of Gaero’s children were imprisoned and taken to Goguryeo, as well as the fact that Munju is said to have “Risen to the position of Senior Counselor, something typically not done for princes at the time, as their status as princes and possible heirs to the throne would have been enough.
There is also the little fact of Konji, sent to the archipelago in 461, who was said to be the younger brother of King Gaero, at least according to the Nihon Shoki and later Japanese sources. In the Samguk Sagi they claim that Konji was actually the younger brother to Mujun. If the Samguk Sagi is correct, and Munju was Gaero’s son, then perhaps we have here another son of Gaero, who also wasn’t taken to Goguryeo, by some chance. On the other hand, if the Nihon Shoki is correct, then Konji may have been brother to both Mujun and Gaero, which all lines up nicely.
Despite successfully setting up the new capital, things in Baekje were not going well. Even with the recent attacks by Goguryeo, politics in Baekje were cutthroat—quite literally in this case. In 477, in the third year of King Munju’s rule, he was assassinated by his own Minister of War, Hae Ku, who set himself up as regent for the reign of Munju’s thirteen year old son, King Samgeun. That would only have been a temporary solution, and in 478 Hae Ku revolted and the Baekje court had to twice send armies out to subdue him, eventually putting him to death. But Samgeun would not get long to enjoy this victory, as he perished around 479.
Word of Samgeun’s death reached Yamato, who once again offered their support. As Samgeun had apparently died childless, Yamato supported Tongseong for the throne. Tongseong, who would be known as King Modae, was a son of Konji, younger brother of King Munju—and possible King Gaero. The Nihon Shoki claims that Modae was born in Yamato when his father was sent there back in 461, and when they heard that Samgeun had died they sent Modae back with some 500 soldiers as reinforcements—once again supporting their ally militarily. Of course, this is not mentioned in the Samguk Sagi, who merely mentions that Modae, son of Konji, took the throne.
And so we can see that between 475 and 479, Baekje wasn’t doing so great, going through three sovereigns in only four years. This was clearly a violent and turbulent age.
Back on the archipelago, Wakatake had certainly been hotheaded in his youth, going to war at the drop of a hat, and quick to respond with violence to the slightest offense. Over time, however, this mellowed, and Wakatake is pictured as even having regret in some of the later stories.
Towards the end of his reign, Wakatake also had gathered around him a court of powerful nobles. At the head of his government may very well have been Ohotomo no Muroya no Ohomuraji—interesting in that the Ohotomo were Muraji and not Omi, but so were the powerful Mononobe family at this time, at the height of their power.
At the start of the reign, Wakatake actually elevated the ranks of three individuals. First there was Heguri no Oho-omi no Matori, who would seem to be the highest ranking of the three. He was a descendant of the legendary Takeuchi no Sukune, the first Oho-omi. That said, he seems to have relatively little impact, and he really doesn’t get much mention until later reigns.
Second was Mononobe no Ohomuraji no Me—whom we’ve mentioned previously as the head—eventually at least—of the powerful Mononobe family, who were coming to the height of their power. He had several mentions throughout the reign, but mentions of him go silent towards the end. Perhaps he passed away, or was out of favor with the court. Unfortunately, as I noted earlier, the information on many of these individuals is fragmentary at best, and so we really don’t know what happened.
Finally there was Ohotomo no Ohomuraji no Muroya—sometimes referred to as “Muruya” or “Moriya”, but in looking at the spelling in the Nihon Shoki, Muroya seems to be appropriate. Muroya was no newbie to the court. Back in the reign of Woasatsuma, aka Ingyo Tennou, Wakatake’s father, Muroya had helped set up the Fujiwara-Be for Woasatsuma’s mistress, Sotohori Hime—that woman that his wife could not stand but whom Woasatsuma kept making excuses to go and see.
In the reign of Wakatake, Muroya was taking on a larger role, as indicated by his rise in rank to the head of the Ohotomo house and title of Ohomuraji. Muroya would be the one to put to death Iketsu Hime of Baekje, sent to be an Uneme, but she had an affair before reaching the court.
Later, when the Imaki artisans were brought over from Baekje, Muroya was responsible for resettling them after disease broke out and they needed to socially distance the survivors.
Muroya also had a peripheral role in Wakatake’s great campaign against Silla. He interceded with Wakatake to get an Uneme for Ki no Woyumi, and later is involved with requests for the burial mound of the same. One of the generals, the ill-fated Ohotomo no Katari, who would die in the early assaults on Silla, was no doubt related—possibly even his son.
In all of this, with perhaps the exception of the story of Sotohori Hime, Muroya and the Ohotomo in general are involved with various things involving the continent—be it Silla or Baekje. Of course, there are some mentions of the Ohotomo and their ancestors before this, often in a military context, but this reign seems to really see their rise with Muroya.
It was into this mix that Wakatake, feeling his age, is said to have handed over the reigns of government to his son, Prince Shiraga, and, at the same time, Ohotomo no Muroya was raised up above the other courtiers, despite the power and influence of the Mononobe. Shiraga was put in charge of rewards and punishments, as well as financial matters—in other words, he held the purse strings as well as control over any possible promotions. Muroya, on the other hand, was given general administrative command, along with Yamato-Aya no Tsuka no Atahe, who had previously helped Muroya move the Imaki families of Baekje. In this case, though, Tsuka appears to be little more than a general dogsbody for Muroya, and it was Muroya who was truly in power.

And so, where do we stand at the very end of Wakatake’s reign?
Wakatake is still sovereign, but his age and health are failing. No longer is he the dynamic, hot headed youth whose hand needed to be stayed by cooler, wiser heads. He is leaving Yamato, if not the entire archipelago, in an arguably more solidified state, with more centralized control through a growing force of family and corporate group leaders that controlled key military and economic sectors of society.
Meanwhile, despite apparently strong military operations on the peninsula, Yamato’s own influence seems to have wavered, there. This may have been as much due to growth of the peninsular powers as any missteps on Yamato’s end.
As Wakatake withdraws, he iss ensuring his legacy by placing his son, Shiraga, in charge, with the expert aid of senior, experienced couriers, such as Ōtomo no Muroya. And yet, this is still a tumultuous time.
Baekje had been devastated in 475, relocating their capital and rebuilding after Goguryeo’s punishing attack that saw the death of King Gaero. The Liu Song would not be too far behind, falling to their own internal pressures.
And so the death of Wakatake in 479 comes during a period of great uncertainty, and despite all the precautions that had been taken, the threat of violence continues to hang over the transition.
In the countryside, the Nihon Shoki tells us that the Emishi grew restless. These weren't the Emishi of Tōhoku, however. These were Emishi around Kibi. It is unclear if they were Emishi who had been enslaved in the east and resettled in Western Honshu, or simply groups living outside of the Yamato hegemony; certainly in later centuries that would seen to be the definition.
Either way, they saw their chance to establish some kind of independence. Five hundred of them gathered together, and we are told they began raiding nearby districts.
Around this same time, Oshiro, of the Kibi no Omi, was returning home. Oshiro had been one of the Wa generals in the expedition against Silla, and one can imagine that he did not return alone.
Nonetheless, 500 Emishi is a daunting number for this period. You may recall that a punitive force against a rebellious Kibi lord was comprised of only about 30 individuals. On the other hand, peninsular conflicts were being recorded that would seem to involve much larger forces.
Oshiro must have felt he had enough, though, as he began to pursue the Emishi, starting in the West, at Port Saba, in Suwo, near the modern day city of Houfu, towards the western end of the Seto Inland Sea. As he and his men fired on the Emishi with their bows, the Emishi skillfully jumped out of the way, which almost sounds like something out of a Loony Tunes show. He continued shooting, blowing through two cases of arrows, until he completely ran dry, at which point he kept shooting the bow—and apparently he took out two companies of Emishi. This latter feat, a clear exaggeration of Oshiro’s martial prowess, was a common trope in old stories, where some archers were so skilled they could take out enemies with just the sound of the bowstring. Let's see Hawkeye try that trick shot!
By the way, dry firing a bow like this would also be used to pacify spirits, and in later centuries we’ll see stories of archers twanging their bows at night to keep evil spirits at bay.
And so there Oshiro was, dry firing his bow, but he knew that would only go so far. He called on his boatmen to bring him resupplies, but they were afraid—as I noted, earlier, 500 Emishi was not an insignificant number. And so they fled, taking their boats with them.
And so there was Oshiro and his men. They were out of arrows, except perhaps those fired at them by their enemies. His boatmen had fled, taking any spare arrows and hope of escape. One can imagine Oshiro’s men wondering if the sailors didn't have the right idea. The general had to push his men onward in the fight, and so he got in front of them, turned his bow upside down, and composed a poem on the spot.
Michi ni Afuya / Wosiro no ko / Amo ni koso / kikoezu arame / kuni ni ha / Kikoete na
“He met them on the way, / The Child of Oshiro! / It is only in Heaven / that he will be unheard of / For you will hear of him / Here on Earth!”
The translation may not trip forth as cleanly as Shakespeare’s words in the mouth of Henry the V on St. Crispin’s Day, but the defiance and sheer will and intent ring out clear as day, so that even today he is remembered and heard of once more, as we speak of him, now.
Oshiro’s men rallied to their leader’s boasts, and they took the fight to the enemy in hand to hand combat. Eventually they pushed the Emishi back and caused a rout, pushing their foes eastward, all the way to the shores of Uragake, in Tamba, modern Kyotango city in Kyoto prefecture, where Oshiro’s men slew all the remaining Emishi in what Aston translates as a “massacre”.
This incredible campaign is placed at the very end of Wakatake’s reign in the Nihon Shoki, after the death of the sovereign himself. It is a fantastical account that very likely was much more limited in scope than the expansive take we are given. On the other hand, there likely were such attempts to shake the rule of Yamato or any of the other early states that were forming. This could even be more a story of Kibi, who were at the height of their own power at this time. If so, it indicates possible Kibi influence across much of Western Honshu and all the way to the Japan sea
Either way, it seems a fitting end to the reign of Wakatake; a book end of violence, capping off a reign that began in murder and fratricide.
Speaking of which, it wasn’t merely the Emishi that were plotting something at this time. You see, even though Wakatake had transferred the government before his death, investing his son, Prince Shiraga, as his clear successor, and giving administration of the government over to the Ōtomo no Ōmuraji, Muroya, not everyone was pleased. Even Wakatake seems to have warned of it in his deathbed: the royal family of Yamato still had a tradition of challenging the successor to the throne, a tradition that even Wakatake had upheld in his own way, despite his attempts to prevent it.
In this case the threat came from none other than the Kibi side of the family: Prince Hoshikawa. Hoshikawa’s mother was none other than Kibi no Wakahime, the former wife to Tasa no Omi of Upper Kibi. You may recall that Tasa was sent away—or possibly killed—because Wakatake sought to take his wife for his own. Of course, Wakahime had never been the Queen, but so what? Neither had Shiraga’s mother, Karahime. So why shouldn't her son, Hoshikawa, take the throne?
She planted this idea in Hoshikawa's head, suggesting that if he wanted to take the throne for himself, Prince Hoshikawa should take over the Treasury. Hoshikawa listened to this plan and ran with it. When his older brother, Prince Iwaki, heard about it, he urged his brother not to do anything, but Hoshikawa would not be dissuaded.
And so he took the Treasury, locked the doors, and fortified his position. He then began to act as the sovereign ruler, handing out disbursements and generally depleting the Treasury, probably in an attempt to buy the loyalty of enough powerful court nobles that they would recognize him as the rightful ruler, rather than his brother.
Immediately, once he heard what was happening, Muroya reached out to his trusty aide de camp, Tsuka, of the Yamato no Aya, and had him draw up men to resist this usurpation. They gathered men loyal to the court of Shiraga and they besieged the Treasury building.
Now perhaps Kibi no Wakahime and her son, Prince Hoshikawa, figured they were safe. After all, if Muroya and his forces attached, they risked destroying the total treasures as well. But if that was their thinking, they had really misjudged Muroya.
And here’s where we perhaps get a glimpse of just why Wakatake had chosen Muroya in the first place. He was a military man, accustomed to war and a loyal pragmatist. Treasure in the hands of enemies to the throne was all but worthless, and he may have just considered it already lost. In any event, he had his men light a fire and burn the entire structure to the ground, along with everyone inside. That included Prince Hoshikawa and his entire family, including his mother, Kibi no Wakahime, and his brother, Prince Iwaki, as well as his half-brother, Yegimi. They even had Ki no Okazaki and his forces, possibly enticed by the promise of reward. They all perished in the flames.
Once again, we see a conflict involving Kibi, lending further credence to the idea that Kibi may have been pushing against Yamato power and flexing their own military might. And it is worth remembering that it was anything but a foregone conclusion that Yamato would emerge the sole ruling authority in the archipelago. Of course, we only have Yamato’s point of view for all of this, and even that was coming well after the events in question, with the full benefit of knowing just how things would play out, but at the time I doubt it was quite that clear cut.
And with that, I think we can bring this to a close. Shiraga is on the throne, and was probably co-ruling some time before that, and the Chroniclers will name him Seinei Tennou. We’ll look more at his reign and what comes next, soon enough.
And, so, until next episode, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends—word of mouth really is the best way to let people know about things like this. Also 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 through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, find us on Patreon, or find 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. We would love to hear from you and your ideas.
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.
Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Kim, P., Shultz, E. J., Kang, H. H. W., & Han'guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn'guwŏn. (2012). The Koguryo annals of the Samguk sagi. Seongnam-si, Korea: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Soumaré, Massimo (2007), Japan in Five Ancient Chinese Chronicles: Wo, the Land of Yamatai, and Queen Himiko. ISBN: 978-4-902075-22-9.
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
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
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 63: Immigrants, Gods, and Movie Studios

May 1, 2022 Joshua Badgley

Crew hard at work on set at Toei Eiga Mura, in Uzumasa, Kyoto. Photo by author.

RSS

Archives

This episode is perhaps a bit less straightforward than I would have liked, so apologies if there is any confusion. Next episode should get us back on track if there is too much confusion. That said, a few things here that I really couldn’t get into in the depth I wanted in the episode.

Wakatake and the Liu Song

So I’ve mentioned this before, but while there are a fair number of scholars that understandably suggest Wakatake is Bu (武) in the Song Chronicles, more and more I am inclined to suggest that he is actually Kō (與). After all, the date of Kō’s envoy in 462 matches up just too well with the Chronicle for this time, and the envoy from Bu arrived in 478, less than 2 years before Wakatake’s recorded death. Of course, it is likely that one of the sources we read is wrong, as they don’t exactly match up entirely, but if that is the case, I am inclined to go with the Song histories. It is a bit odd that an envoy would be sent towards the end of Wakatake’s reign, but we do know that he eventually put the Crown Prince, Shiraga, in charge of many of the functions of government. In the Chronicles this is placed shortly before his death, but what if it occurred earlier? It is possible that Shiraga was then sending out the mission asking for assistance in completing his father’s objectives, in which case it would be Shiraga who is known as “Bu” and who gained the title of “King of Wa”.

Of course, a big question in all of this is what did it mean, in a practical sense? We tend to assume that because they gained a great title and various concessions that they must have done a lot. However, it is also possible that the titles were the culmination of a series of actions by the Wa that led to greater and greater titles being issued by the Liu Song, but there is no guarantee that any ruler that received them would necessarily reign for a long time. Death could come swiftly and unexpectedly, even to those in power, so we have to be careful of translating grand titles and what it actually means. Was it some kind of lifetime achievement award, or more like a recognition of the state?

Foreign Lineages

One of the things we talk about are the foreign lineages in Japan. One of the most prominent is the Hata (秦), who were weavers and whose name expressly references the continent. Then there were others like the Aya (漢), another group named for their weaving expertise who are described with the character for the Han dynasty rather than the Qin. These are expressly foreign lineages, founded by people who came or were brought over from the Korean peninsula.

However, there were also foreign ties with various “indigenous” lineages. The powerful Mononobe (物部) are known to have accepted foreigners into the family, likely bringing various advantages in terms of continental wealth and technology with them. Even the royal lineage has multiple mentions of both mythical and historical ties to continental descent. This idea has been further bolstered by research into DNA, showing clear links between the people of the Korean peninsula and the Japanese archipelago by the later Kofun period.

Immigrant Gods

One of the more controversial topics of Japanese history at this time would seem to be the idea of “immigrant” gods, or kami. Now, it isn’t controversial—or shouldn’t be—that there are kami that are worshipped in the archipelago that claim to have come from the Korean peninsula. After all, we had Ama no Hiboko who supposedly came to Tsuruga, and we have others in Naniwa and elsewhere, all claiming to be from the Korean peninsula. However, there are other deities, or just aspects of them, where it seems we often meet resistance on this topic. In particular when we discuss the origins for kami like Amaterasu and Susano’o. These are major figures in the Shinto pantheon, and are often considered just about as Japanese as one can get. And so it may be understandable when people balk at the idea that there might be elements from the continent and even other cultures—making them, as some might say, “transnational” deities.

But there is definitely evidence of the same kind of influences that were exerting pressure on the Wa in the archipelago similarly reshaping how they saw the world, including the world of the supernatural. And so we see elements, like the popularity of the Queen Mother of the West, found in the early mirrors from the continent, but also in similarities in how deities like Amaterasu are portrayed. This isn’t to say that Amaterasu is a stand-in for a continental deity, but rather that she is an amalgamation of various stories and ideas—much as the Chronicles themselves and just about any modern culture is the product of every influence that came before.

If anything, early kami seem to be represented as snakes, arrows, etc. We see this in the deity of Mt. Miwa in early stories and even the giant serpent captured by Sukaru that is identified as Ikazuchi (the Thunder God). There is also the description of the rainbow that illuminates the site of Takuhata’s death as looking like a “giant serpent”. Of course, there are other visible-kami-as-animal examples, such as in the stories of Yamato Takeru, but snakes seem to have a particular place of prominence in the stories.

On the other hand, the world of Takamagahara, the Heavenly Plain, is filled with rice fields and silk weaving, among other things. Even the mirrors hung in the trees, and even swords, were things that came, originally, from the continent. Particularly, though, there seems to be an emphasis with weaving, which, of course, explains the title of Michael Como’s book: “Weaving and Binding: Immigrant Gods and Female Immortals in Ancient Japan”. Here he also places a lot of emphasis on the Weaver Maiden figure that we see in things like the Weaver Maiden and the Oxherd story of Tanabata fame. But rather than trying to summarize all of his arguments, I am going to recommend that if you are interested, check out his book on the subject and come to your own conclusions.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 63: Immigrants, Gods, and Movie Studios
Last episode we looked at how Wakatake, aka Yuryaku Tenno, and the court backed up their will in the archipelago as well as on the continent—using the Mononobe, their enforcers, in the areas near the court and further afield. As we discussed, this was a period with plenty of violence and turmoil, but one thing it wasn’t was a period of isolation. Besides the military entanglements on the continent, there were also accounts of more diplomatic efforts on farther shores—namely with the court of Liu Song.
And even though over the course of the reign Yamato power waned on the peninsula, as it would seem based on evidence in the Samguk Sagi, that doesn’t mean that there weren’t still people moving from one locale to the other. In fact, if Yamato influence did wane towards the end of Wakatake’s reign, that may have been impetus for more people—namely Yamato’s closest peninsular allies—to make the trip across the straits to the archipelago. So this episode we are going to focus on those people and the innovations, especially ideas they brought over, and—in a true illustration of how the historical processes described in the Chronicles continue to resonate down to the present day—we’re going to conclude with just what all of this has to do with a modern day movie studio-slash-theme park in Kyoto.
Now, as for people, we have plenty of evidence in this period of individuals coming across the straits and staying in the islands. We’ve talked about some of these people already, such as the Imaki, who were artisans brought over from Baekje, to join groups that we already know, like the Aya, and a few we’ll talk about this episode.
And these people were bringing new technologies. Some are obvious, like methods of weaving fabric, or even pottery. For example, there is a particular type of pottery, known in Japan as sueki, or Sue ware. It is unlike the terracotta used for the haniwa figures that famously decorated the kofun. Sue ware vessels tend to be blue-grey stoneware, and are the same—or at least extremely similar—to ones found on the Korean peninsula, particularly in the Kara and Silla regions. Perhaps unsurprisingly, a fair amount of it shows up in the area of modern Ohosaka, near Naniwa, likely Yamato’s main port, even when the court was elsewhere, indicating that there were likely potters there who had come over with the technology from the continent.
But beyond the tangible innovations imported from the continent and the peninsula, there were less tangible ones as well. We have writing, of course, but even just the basics of statecraft and how to organize and administer larger territories and diverse groups of people—things likely passed on from the dynasties in China.
And then there is another step beyond that in the realm of the metaphysical. And there were plenty of continental ideas on that front as well, bringing in foreign deities—or karakami—to be worshipped locally, as well as importing foreign concepts that were absorbed into local practice. In some cases these may have retained some connection to the continental practices that spawned them, but in others they may just as easily have become localized to the needs of the people. All of this would have a profound impact on the make-up and belief systems in the archipelago, such that there are many things that even today are regarded as indigenous to Japan or Shinto and yet would seem to have roots outside of the archipelago.
This didn’t all happen during the reign of Wakatake, of course, but there are enough things that did that this is as good a place as any for us to look at what was happening in this regard in the late 5th century.
So, backing up a bit. At this point, what exactly was going on on the peninsula and the continent? Of course, a big part of it – and something we’ve touched on in recent episodes – is the conflict between and among Silla and Goguryeo—as well as Baekje and Kara—over on the Korean peninsula. It is somewhat difficult to say how active Yamato was, but at least there appears to have been members of the greater Wa ethnic sphere who were a part of the conflicts going on.
Beyond the peninsula, of course, were the successive dynasties laying claim to some part of that area that had been known as the “Middle Kingdom” since ancient times. To the Japanese Chroniclers, this all was all simply labeled as “Kure”, the Japanese pronunciation of the character for Wu—one of the states that arose after the fall of the Han dynasty. While it only lasted until the 3rd century, it became the de facto name for just about any interaction with the mainland “Middle Kingdom”. And if the Korean peninsula was considered valuable for its continental goods and learning, “Kure” was considered the motherlode. A center of authority, sophistication, and learning. If something came from Kure, one can only imagine the prestige that brought with it.
At this point the dynasty that held sway over Wu’s ancient territory, from the Shandong peninsula all the way down into the northern reaches of modern day Vietnam, was a dynasty known to us as the Liu Song. In the north, in the Yellow River Basin, was the Northern Wei, a dynasty descended from the nomadic Xianbei people. While I suppose it is possible that any connection could have been drawn to either of these two powers, it seems likely that much of what is mentioned in the Yamato chronicles refers to the southern, Liu Song dynasty.
Our first contact with the Liu Song, then, is recorded by the Japanese Chroniclers as taking place in the year 462. Per the Nihon Shoki, this is when “The Land of Wu”—aka the Liu Song dynasty—sent envoys to Yamato with tribute. Of course, this lines up remarkably well—perhaps too well, in fact—with the information in the Song Shu, where they make the claim that this was actually the first envoy from the archipelago to the Liu Song court, and not vice versa. It’s pretty evident that from either perspective has recorded the “lesser” power sending tribute to the “greater”, in a sense. But either way, it seems likely that the Chroniclers had access to the Song Shu or similar works, and were fitting those dates together, though why they didn’t mention the other six embassies since 421 is anybody’s guess.
And then there are the missions that the Nihon Shoki claims were sent that we have no record of in the Chinese sources. For instance, in 464, in response, it would seem, to the mission of 462, Musa no Suguri no Awo and Hinokuma no Tamitsukashi no Hakatoko were sent as emissaries of Wakatake no Ohokimi.
Now Awo and Hakatoko have surfaced in our narrative before, though it was kind of a blink and you’d miss it kind of deal. They came up two episodes back when we were talking about Wakatake’s mean streak, where it was noted that, at least at one point these were the only two nobles in the whole of Yamato that held any love for Wakatake—his only friends. Of course, neither was anyone of particular note, with relatively minor kabane—far from the Omi and Muraji, and even the Atahe.
Of course, it is probably easy to be friends with the sovereign when you spend most of your life on the road for him. Not to mention that they likely owed him a great deal—members of more prestigious households would have had their own power base, whereas Awo and Hakatoko would have been more reliant on Wakatake’s pleasure. This also made them perfect for the task of representing him to the continent, since one expects they would not have their own agendas that might conflict with his own.
Granted, it is questionable just how well this mission went. The two envoys returned two years after they had been sent, in 466. This seems reasonable given the distance of such a journey.
In earlier periods, we were told of the goods that would be taken on these embassies, including fabric and enslaved people, only to return with even more valuable goods in return. However, we aren’t told what Awo and Hakatoko took with them, only what they brought back—two geese presented by Liu Song. Somehow I suspect this wasn’t the only thing that they brought back, but it was what the Nihon Shoki bothered to mention, mainly because of the odd story that goes along with it. It seems that when the envoys arrived back in the archipelago they put in at Tsukushi—modern Kyushu—and there they must have brought the geese and anything else ashore. Seems they did a poor job of looking after things though, and a dog got into the geese and killed them both.
Minuma no Kimi, the dog’s owner, realized he would need to pay some sort of restitution. After all, these weren’t just any old geese—they were gifts from the Liu Song emperor to Wakatake no Ohokimi. And so Minuma no Kimi quickly offered up what he could—he offered up ten geese and the bird-keepers to look after them. Wakatake accepted the payment and had the bird-keepers in particular resettled into two villages—in Karu and in Iware.
This was certainly better than what had happened in another case of a dog killing royal birds, which took place only a year later. In that case the owner, who could not pay restitution, ended up branded and made a part of the Torikahi Be, or Bird-keeper’s Be. This would also be the fate of those who questioned Wakatake’s judgment on this matter, so you know, paying up was probably a good thing.
But surely the continent had more to offer than birds, right? And so Awo and Hakatoko went back in 468. This time they came back—once again two years later—and this time they brought something better than birds. This time they brought craftspeople, namely Aya and Kure weavers.
Now some of this mirrors previous accounts, such as in the reign of Homuda Wake, when tailors of Kure were also said to have come over. They even brought specific tailors—one in particular they name as “Ane-hime”, who is given to the service of the god Ohomi, much as in Homuda Wake’s time they claim that an “Ane-hime”, which likely is more of a description than a name, was given to the god of Munakata. These could easily be two separate individuals, given the vagaries of the name-slash-descriptor, but it is also possible that the same stories got told slightly differently in different places in the Chronicles.
Now, this dedication of some of these foreign workers to shrines will bring us around to another topic in a bit—the connection between weaving and ritual life—but for now, let’s continue to pull on just one thread at a time—in this case the actual individuals and how they were incorporated into Yamato. All of these craftspeople from the continent were split up into various familial Be groups and sent to different places throughout the country, or at least that’s the official story. We will often see where members of a Be are mentioned as living in farflung lands, under the sway of local authorities.
Which brings us to the larger question of —how did these foreigners integrate into Yamato Society? The answer seems to be: on the whole, quite well. In fact, in this period, while there are certainly remembrances of continental origin that remain in various names or simply stories, many of these groups of people were either accepted as familial groups – Be - on their own, or placed into new or existing family groups and made a part of the citizenry of Yamato. This would later be codified into law, but for now the process seems vague.
The Chronicles do like to make the claim that creation of these family groups belonged to the sovereign, something that I’m not so sure about in these early times. Still, since that seems to have been a later prerogative that the royalty asserted, the Chroniclers were unlikely to countermand that in compiling their history. And so we see efforts to organize people, both foreign and local.
These Be had various purposes and types. We’ve already seen a few examples of Be created around certain occupations, such as the creation of the Imaki from Baekje artisans, or the Umakai Be and the Torikai Be—the Horsekeepers’ Be and the Birdkeepers’ Be, to look after various animals that had some value: horses, for likely obvious reasons, and birds, possibly like game wardens. Then there were less obvious groups, like the Wina Be, who apparently were a family group of carpenters, at least based on the stories about them, though their name may have simply referred to their original place of origin.
Sometimes these family groups were created simply for a specific person or purpose, such as the upkeep of a tomb, or to support a particular family. Others are less clear, and their origin stories may just be apocryphal.
For example, you might remember that brave—or perhaps foolhardy—individual who had gone up Mt. Miwa to obtain the kami for Wakatake, from Episode 61. There was a man named Chihisako Be no Sukaru, and there is another story about him on how he got that name. And it all has to do with silkworms and a slight misunderstanding.
The year was 462—The same year as that mission that was said to have arrived from the Liu Song—or possibly had been sent.
Back in the archipelago, we are told that Wakatake was trying to boost the native silk industry. We know from archaeological evidence that the people in the Japanese archipelago had been weaving silk locally since at least the Mid-Yayoi and earlier, using silk cocoons imported from the continent. Of course this technology was not a recent one. The section of the Wei Chronicles regarding the Wa claimed they were, in fact, raising their own silkworms and weaving silk even back then. It is uncertain just how widespread this was or even if it was actually happening—it could be that sericulture was simply considered a mark of civilization and therefore part of a common refrain about certain cultures. Still, certainly by the latter half of the 5th century we can say that sericulture was fairly well known and practiced in the archipelago.
However, given the importation of more and more craftspeople, I suspect that silk was in ever greater demand. After all, it did one very little good to have all of these weavers and tailors coming over if you didn’t have anything for them to actually weave, let alone sew up.
Furthermore, raising silkworms could be done on an individual basis. You didn’t need to manage large plots of land, as with rice farming – silkworms are, of course, small, and as long as you have access to one or more mulberry trees for the leaves, you can generally keep them fed. Often this was seen as being in the realm of women—to raise the silkworms and process the cocoons and eventually weave the silk. To scale up production at this point there was really only one thing to do: Get more people to grow silkworms and harvest the resulting silk.
And so it made sense that if Wakatake wanted to see more silkworm cultivation occur, he should encourage it in the palace itself and amongst the women of the palace. Who better than his own Queen and consorts to take up this task. And so Wakatake conscripted the brave Sukaru to go and collect silkworms throughout the country so that they could be raised in the palace.
Unfortunately, it seems there was a bit of a communication problem. The term used for silkworms was “Kahi-ko”, which also sounded remarkably similar to a phrase that meant to “nurture children”, and so Sukaru did not realize that he was supposed to collect silkworms and, instead, he went around the countryside collecting babies and young children and eventually presented those to the sovereign, thinking that is what he was supposed to do.
When he realized what had happened, Wakatake laughed and then decreed that Sukaru would need to raise the children himself. And, in case you are wondering, no, there is no mention of the children’s parents or what happened to them. Perhaps they were orphans? That is perhaps the most charitable way to look at it.
Anyway, that is why the sovereign then created an entire family structure: the Chihisako Be—the Be of Little Children.
Of course I take most of these family creation stories with at least a grain of salt. This seems like quite the story, here, and while I enjoy a good pun as much as the next podcast host, the idea that someone would just go about collecting children because of a misunderstanding seems a bit much. And besides, a lot of this feels like more continental imperial trappings being placed on the sovereign, even having his consorts raise silkworms in the palace.
But the fact that the creation of the Chihisakobe is also connected with this story of raising silkworms draws an interesting connection, and they were likely more closely related to something to do with silk raising or weaving than little children.
And let’s not also forget Sukaru’s feat of wrestling a thunder god down from Mt. Miwa—combining silk industry and spiritual power.
Other families and/or Be were created during this time as well, or were organized together. Again, remember, these are not necessarily blood relatives, but individuals brought together into organizations designed around the familial framework. And although we’ve talked about Be being formed to help organize foreigners, there are plenty of examples of the same practice being applied to people and groups in the archipelago as well. In some cases this was likely done as a means of control as much as anything else—bringing an industry under a single head and therefore providing control even over disparate groups throughout the islands.
A good example is the Nihe no Hanishi Be—the clayworkers Be. According to the Nihon Shoki, an ancestor of the Hanishi no Muraji presented private subjects of various villages to be part of the Nihe no Hanishi Be to make vessels for the sovereign’s table. The fact that his family became the Hanishi and this was the Hanishi Be is not uncommon—there are often, but not always, corresponding families to some of the Be groups. I also find it interesting that he could just “give” private subjects—this likely refers to the idea that while he may have been collecting some tax or product from these villages, I suspect that production is now being redirected to a new recipient—in this case the royal family. Of course, the Hanishi family would likely retain some part in that, which would be key to their own wealth and status in the community of Yamato elites.
That the villages named are from all over is what I find truly interesting, however. The individuals being placed in this group were from Settsu, Yamashiro, Ise, Tanba, Tajima, and Inaba. Rather than suggesting that a single individual already had such a reach, this may have been more about putting various clayworkers in those areas under a single organizational unit, and a single organizational head. Thus their production could be more centralized as well. Still, how much of this was actual and how much was aspirational is hard to say..
So, Be could, in fact, be created around just about any craft, and it’s not so much the creation of a Be, but more where that craft came from, that clues in modern historians as to whether a given group were part of a continental tradition.
Now as all of these new groups were being created and as people were coming in from the continent, they were merging together various ideas and concepts. In some cases, as we mentioned, it was technologies, from writing, to horses, to pottery, and even various fabric arts. But in other cases it was ideas—statecraft, for one, but also religious and spiritual thought.
Of course, at the time, people really did not distinguish between the natural and the supernatural. Kami and spirits were as natural to them as the mountains and seas. And, from what we see in the record, it would certainly seem that spiritual practices were seen as an important tool of statecraft. Of course, while there were similarities, it is likely that there was a lot of variation in ritual practices across the archipelago. Different groups would have their local deities and specific rites. If those rites were seen as effective in some way—whether curing illness, helping the crops, or just generally bringing good fortune—then those rites were propagated.
At the same time, that made the ritualists in charge of those rites powerful as well. As such we often see local deities, ritual centers, and family groups intertwined. Queen Himiko, after all, was said to have held power through her ability to commune with the spirits
As examples of this, think about how those women named Ane-hime were dedicated to this or that shrine or deity, and then consider some of the other mentions of spiritual and ritual power. Even the Mononobe, who are often talked about in a martial context, clearly had some authority through their connection to Isonokami.
Control of various ritual elements would be crucial in later periods—indeed, it would be one of the fundamental ways that power structures would be challenged. And remember how we talked about how Homuda Wake would be eventually morphed into the god Hachiman, from a group in Northern Kyushu? And later we’ll talk about groups like the Nakatomi, and even the Soga, who would wield Buddhism to their family’s benefit.
Even in the Heian period, families would keep diaries which would be used as precedent for various rituals and decisions. If you were seen as having control over some kind of ritual, that was a form of power on the archipelago. Perhaps this is part of why, as Yamato expanded its authority, it required various ritual centers to turn over their ritual tools, such as mirrors and jewels and swords, to the court. We’ve talked about some of this already with Wakatake’s predecessors, as they broadened the sphere of Yamato influence.
At the same time as all of this was happening within the archipelago, you had an influx of individuals from the continent who brought with them not just new ways of making things, but they brought their own gods, their own stories, and their own rituals. Gina Barnes has made note of how stories of the Queen Mother of the West made their way into the islands, and it is easy to see trappings of Chinese thought in various rituals. This is sometimes seen as the importation of Taoism, though there seems little evidence that it was brought in in such a structured manner. After all, many things we consider “Taoist” today were likely originally local traditions that existed alone before later being brought under a larger conceptual roof. So it may have just been isolated practices, not necessarily connected with the sage Laozi.
Likewise, there were foreign deities, or karakami, brought into Japan as well. Some of these seem obvious, like Ame no Hiboko, who is explicitly said to have come over from the Korean peninsula. Others are more controversial. Susanowo is often pointed to as likely originating on the continent, and even Amaterasu has been suggested as having elements of continental influence.
No doubt these new gods and rituals offered something novel to people on the archipelago. Much like other technologies, including statecraft, medicine, writing, etc., why wouldn’t these foreign systems be something to try? They likely were seen as exotic, and without the burden of a history of unanswered prayers or ineffective rituals. It seems reasonable to assume that people may have adopted some of these continental beliefs and made them their own, or simply used them for a touch of the exotic and to appear more cultured and erudite.
Michael Como makes a point about this in his 2009 book, Weaving and Binding: Immigrant Gods and Female Immortals in Ancient Japan. There, Como points out many of the connections between the immigrant groups coming into Japan, the weaving technologies that they brought with them and upon which they built their fortunes and economic power, and the influence they had on religious thought and practice in the archipelago, both by importing certain rituals and beliefs, but also by importing their own gods, or kami.
For example, one of the families that was of some import in the early Heian period were the Hata, a group with a foreign lineage, whose name specifically references woven cloth, and who had considerable ritual control over various sacred sites, including Buddhist temples and also the famous Kamo shrines. That the capital of Heian-kyo—modern Kyoto—was built in their ancestral stronghold is likely not a mere coincidence. The Hata are an important enough example of everything I’m talking about that we’re going to spend most of the rest of the episode talking about this particular family and how they tie into several places in the Chronicles at this point.
In particular, one of the stories that Como uses to illustrate the connections between immigration, weaving and ritual comes from our current reign, the reign of Wakatake, and it is about Takuhata no Himemiko, the Ise Princess. Make a note of the “hata” in her name – I promise we’ll return to it soon.
Now for some reason—the Nihon Shoki doesn’t seem to explain why—Kunimi of the Abe no Omi apparently started a rumor that the royal Ise princess, Takuhata no Himemiko, had been having an affair with the bath official, Takehiko of the Ihoki-be no Muraji.
Takuhata no Himemiko, aka Waka Tarashi Hime, was the daughter of Wakatake and Kara Hime, and the sister of Crown Prince Shiraga.
And so it is understandable that when Kikoyu, Takehiko’s father, heard about the rumor, he immediately thought about what that might mean for him and the family. It was unthinkable for someone of his family’s status to have an affair with a royal princess, let alone the Ise Princess, who was supposed to be the Priestess at Ise Shrine. And we’ve already seen how quickly Wakatake could take action at even a perceived slight against himself or his family. And so Kikoyu invited his son out to the Ihoki river—from which the Ihoki-be no doubt take their name—where they were to go out cormorant fishing. For those not familiar, this is a practice that continues to the present day, where cormorants are tethered to the fisherman’s boat and trained to dive down for fish and bring them back to the boat.
Now, no doubt going out fishing with your old man would have been a great bonding experience, but Kikoyu had other plans for Takehiko. Once they were at the river, rather than going out fishing, Kikoyu slew his own son, hoping that by doing so his family could avoid the stain of slander that was starting to circulate.
When word of all of this reached Wakatake, he began to make inquiries into what was going on, and he sent people to question Takuhata Hime. Of course, she was ignorant of any of this—she apparently hadn’t even heard the rumor that Kunimi had started—and it seems it all came as quite a shock. After the inquisitors left, Takuhata was distraught. She went to Isuzu no Kawakami, near Ise shrine. She had taken a divine mirror, which she buried, and then she strangled herself.
Eventually word got around that the Princess was missing and so Wakatake sent people to find his daughter. When they came to the area of Kawakami, they saw a rainbow like a serpent, about forty to fifty feet long. At the end of the rainbow, much like a leprechaun’s pot of gold, they found the sacred mirror that Takuhata hand buried, and nearby they found her body.
In examining the body, they noticed something odd, and they cut open her corpse in some kind of kofun era autopsy. Inside her belly they found something like water, and in the water there was a stone. Through this bit of CSI:Yamato they were able to deduce that Takehiko was innocent.
This news devastated Takehiko’s father, Kikoyu, who realized that he had killed his own son for nothing. In rage, he went after and killed Kunimi, the one who had started the vicious rumor, which had set this whole drama in motion—something reminiscent of a Shakespearean tragedy. Kikoyu, his own son dead, and his revenge taken, fled and hid in the Isonokami shrine.
This whole story may seem like simply a tragedy, included because it is about the daughter of the sovereign and the Ise Priestess. But for those of us today, looking back, this actually tells us a lot—and perhaps even more because of what is not being said.
But how does this tale connect with the rest of our narrative?
Well, for one, Amaterasu, the deity of Ise, is also connected with weaving. After all, it was her weaving hall into which Susanowo threw the backwards flayed colt, killing her maiden as she made the ritual garments for the kami of Takamanohara. That was the incident that sent the sun goddess herself into the cave.
I would also point out that when Takuhata decided to take her own life, she buried a mirror. Of course, a mirror is a symbol of the sun and of Amaterasu, but again, it is also a prestige item from the continent.
Now this isn’t to say Amaterasu is a Korean deity; there are factors that make her distinctly Japanese, in my opinion. Rather, I think it helps us see the melting pot of ideas and concepts that came over from the continent at this time and merged with local tradition.
Furthermore, this happened in ways that were relatively seamless compared to later importation of ideas, and perhaps that had to do with the less centralized nature of power at this time. After all, what does it mean to be “Wa” or “Japanese” at a time when there are still multiple states with their own ritual centers and even their own sovereigns?
And then there is the name—Takuhata. “Hata” certainly refers to woven cloth, but you may also remember back in Episode 22 that Takuhata Chichi Hime was the name of a kami—the daughter of Takami Musubi, wife to Amaterasu’s son Oshihomimi, and mother to none other than Ninigi no Mikoto. Takuhata’s name references myriad bolts of silk—or hata, and she is one of the deities said to be enshrined along with Amaterasu at Ise Shrine. And so it seems that Princess Takuhata is using the name of one of the deities of Ise Shrine—specifically the daughter of Takami no Musubi, one of the more important deities of the early stories—possibly even more important than Amaterasu herself.
So, according to Como, we see in this story a connection, coming from continental traditions, between weaving – Hata or Takuhata- and spiritual beliefs. The Queen Mother of the West, for instance, is often depicted with a headdress of weaving implements, and then there are stories such as the Weaving Maiden and the Cow-herd boy—the story of Tanabata—which shows up in different ways from the continent to the archipelago.
And then there is the power that we see some immigrant groups wield, in this case the Hata family. The Hata family was probably not a new lineage group in the time of Wakatake—though whether it was a formal lineage group or simply a description of people who claimed some descent from the peninsula is hard to say. The Nihon Shoki indicates that there were members of the Hata dispersed in various places. Now, “Hata” is the pronunciation of the sinograph used for the ancient Qin dynasty. There is a claim that the first Hata people were people of Qin who moved to the Korean peninsula. They are sometimes said to be the progenitors of the Jin-han people, who then became Silla.
More likely, there were later people of ethnic Han descent who did move into the Korean peninsula, possibly with the various commanderies. This may be the origin for the “Hata” name, which at the very least demonstrates that they came from the continent, possibly of ethnic Han but at least of peninsular origin—even later works agree with that.
Anyway, as I mentioned, the members of the Hata were dispersed, and here the Nihon Shoki uses interesting language. Per Aston’s translation it basically states that the Omi and Muraji—that is the higher ranking noble houses—enforced their services at their pleasure and would not allow the Hata no Miyatsuko to control them.
This gives us some insight into how some of these family groups worked. Even though family or Be members might be dispersed, it seems that their production was expected to be overseen by a central authority. I can’t help but think of some of the work by Dr. Paula Curtis on the metalworkers in later periods, where there were individuals who had particular rights, granted by the court, to oversee and authorize production, for which they were due some not insignificant amount of recompense. The Miyatsuko appears to have occupied a similar position. What I am not sure of is just how new an innovation this would have been in the 5th century. I suspect that it wasn’t nearly so much about asserting traditional privilege as it was creating those same privileges as part of the continuing consolidation of control and authority across the archipelago.
In this case it was Sake, the Hata no Miyatsuko, who is said to have requested consolidation of the Hata under his authority.
But who was Sake, and why would the sovereign listen to him?
Well, Sake seems to have his origin story in about 468, when Wakatake had requested the work of a carpenter, to construct what Aston translates as a “lofty edifice”. It is said that this skilled carpenter nimbly ascended the high building and ran round as if he were flying.
An Uneme from Ise looked up as the construction was going on and marvelled at his work as she was walking. She got so caught up in what was going on above her that she failed to watch where she was going and she fell flat on her face in the courtyard, upsetting the dish of meat that she was bringing to serve Wakatake.
Wakatake jumped to the logical conclusion—or logical to him, anyway—that this meant that the Uneme must have been having some kind of an affair with the carpenter, and he immediately charged the Mononobe with executing the hapless woodworker.
And that would have been the end of him, it seems, if a nearby musician, Hata no Sake no Kimi, hadn’t heard what was going on. He quickly grabbed a nearby zither and started to play a song, talking about Prosperity to the maid of Ise, and wishing for long life for the carpenter. Though I don’t know that I can really piece together the specifics, the song seemed to bring Wakatake to his senses, and he realized that he had overreacted.
Wakatake quickly pardoned the supposed offense and, it seems, the construction went on without further incident.
More importantly to our own story, perhaps, is Sake’s ability to help assert himself with the sovereign and to help calm a tense situation. This likely is meant to equally reflect his political acumen and know-how, which is why, a few years after this, when Hata no Sake requested authority over the other members of the Hata lineage group, Wakatake granted his request.
When that authority was granted, it is said that Sake, attended by the various kinds of Be workmen, presented taxes of fine silks piled up to fill the court—no doubt further ingratiating him and his people with Wakatake.
I don’t think it is too far fetched to assume that the economic—and thus political—power of the Hata came, in part, from their specialization in the silk industry. It was, after all, an area where continental expertise could easily be leveraged in terms of new technological advancements. By consolidating that under a single administrative unit, that also provided greater access to these goods by the court, and in the records of the following year we are told that all of the provinces were ordered to plant and grow mulberry bushes, with members of the Hata dispersed again to make sure they continued to produce silk for the court.
Unsurprisingly, this was quite lucrative, and it would serve the Hata well. In fact, they would be a powerful noble family in the Nara and at least early Heian periods, gaining ritual authority through several prominent shrines, as well as their economic industry.
Now, Sake himself was rewarded with a new personal name for all of his troubles. He was henceforth known as Uzumasa—or possibly Uzumorimasa. And if that sounds familiar, you might be a bit of a film buff.
You see, the Hata would later be involved with a little family temple, known as Hachiokadera—the temple of the bee mound. That temple had a Buddha statue from Korea that is said to have been brought back by none other than Shotoku Taishi himself. Now Hachiokadera was not exactly in a prominent location in the 7th century. It was on the banks of the Omuro river, on a large plain between the larger Katsura and Kamo rivers. It wouldn’t be until the late 8th century that this area, a Hata family stronghold, would become the site for a new city, to be known as Heian-kyo—modern Kyoto. The area around the Hata temple—known today as Koryuji—is still known as Uzumasa, spelled with kanji indicating the “Great Hata”, indicating the family that used to live there and their purported great ancestral family head.
That neighborhood on the western outskirts of Kyoto eventually became home to a fledgling movie industry, including the backlot and sets for numerous movies, particularly by the Toei film company. You can still go and visit them at Uzumasa Toei Studios—like a little Hollywood studios for Chambara and other films, where they are still shooting, even today. Thus the name of the 2014 film about the tradition of filming Samurai movies: Uzumasa Limelight.
And that is, briefly, how a modern movie about chambara films is connected all the way back to the head of a house of immigrants in the 5th century, a house whose connection to weaving also raises interesting connections with ritual practices imported from the continent, and whom we will no doubt see more of in episodes to come.
And with that, I think we will bring this whole thing to a close. We continued our look at the interactions between the archipelago and the continent, and saw how people were coming over and settling, bringing their ideas and technologies with them as they did so. And we saw how these technologies weren’t always just how to make physical things, but could just as easily be ideas.
Next episode we will start to move on from Wakatake and look at what happened at the end of his reign—and the sovereign possibly known as “BU” in the Song chronicles.
And, so, until next episode, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends—word of mouth really is the best way to let people know about things like this. Also 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 through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, find us on Patreon, or find 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. We would love to hear from you and your ideas.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

— (2022). Inabe Jinja Website. http://www.inabe-jinjya.or.jp/index2.html. Last checked 3/31/2022.
Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7.
Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Kim, P., Shultz, E. J., Kang, H. H. W., & Han'guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn'guwŏn. (2012). The Koguryo annals of the Samguk sagi. Seongnam-si, Korea: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Como, Michael (2009). Weaving and Binding: Immigrant Gods and Female Immortals in Ancient Japan. ISBN: 978-0824829575.
Soumaré, Massimo (2007), Japan in Five Ancient Chinese Chronicles: Wo, the Land of Yamatai, and Queen Himiko. ISBN: 978-4-902075-22-9.
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
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
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 62: Crime and Punishment

April 16, 2022 Joshua Badgley

19th century artist’s interpretation of Ki no Oyumi, one of the generals sent to chastise Silla in the late 5th century. Image from Wikimedia Commons.

RSS

Archives

Mononobe Family

This episode we talk a fair bit about the Mononobe, and there will be more in the future, as the Mononobe were major players in the court. While here we focus on their military aspect, they were also seen as ritualists who would eventually resist the influence of the foreign Buddhist thought and practice vice “indigenous” ways of ritual and worship. At this point they were still fairly dominant, however.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 62: Crime and Punishment
So in recent episodes we’ve had a lot of talk about the less desirable qualities of Wakatake no Ohokimi, aka Yuuryaku Tenno. And yet, it seems clear from the chronicles that the reign of Wakatake wasn’t all about his personal character flaws—some of which may not have even been considered flaws by people of the day. After all, for all of his own penchant to resort to violence, this was not necessarily a forgiving time, and it seems that this is what kept him on top, but also a trait that he brought to bear in further growing and strengthening Yamato rule in the archipelago and its influence abroad. So in this episode we are going to explore what the Chronicles have to say about the ways that Wakatake and those who served him asserted royal authority throughout the archipelago and even onto the peninsula. In doing so we will also explore the importance of the Mononobe, the court’s enforcers, and what they tell us about the court’s punitive and peacekeeping authority.
By the way, just a quick note that we will be covering a variety of topics dealing with death and violence, including mentions of violence against women and sexual assault. While we should be able to avoid the more gory details, I just wanted to put that out there for anyone who might be sensitive to any of those topics.
Now, we mentioned back in Episode 60 some of the evidence that Yamato still wasn’t entirely unchallenged in their hegemony of the islands. Even in the mid-fifth century, when Wakatake came to power, the lords of Kibi were building kofun to rival those in Yamato. While it does seem that Yamato may have had some sort of primacy, there was no guarantee that they would be able to keep it indefinitely, and Kibi was a particular threat.
This comes across most clearly in a story from the Nihon Shoki, set during Wakatake’s reign: the story of the Sakitsuya, Omi of Lower Kibi, known in another work as Yama, of the Kibi no Omi, the Kuni no Miyatsuko—in other words the ruler of the land of Kibi.
Now there were men of Kibi serving at the Yamato court. One of these was a Toneri, or male attendant, known as Ohosora of the Yuge-Be, or Bow-Maker’s Be, of Kibi. While in service to Wakatake, Ohosora was called back home on a matter of some urgency. However, once back in Kibi he was detained by Sakitsuya, who refused to let him return. In fact, he held Ohosora back for several months, until Wakatake started to wonder that he had not returned. After all, Kibi is really not so far from the lands of Yamato and Kawachi, all things considered—about 170 km from modern Ohosaka to Okaayama, which is probably a week or so on foot or by boat, but perhaps a couple days on horseback, and only 48 minutes or so by Shinkansen.
So Wakatake sent another person, Mike no Kimi to go find him, and Mike was, indeed, able to get Ohosora back to Yamato. When he did, Ohosora had quite the tale. If the Nihon Shoki’s account is to be believed, Sakitsuya was apparently obsessed with Wakatake—in a pretty creepy and disturbed way.
For example, this one time, he took a bunch of young girls and make them fight grown men. The girls were all meant to represent the men of Wakatake while the grown men represented Sakitsuya’s own troops. This was all going well until the girls started to get the upper hand, at which point Sakitsuya, in a rage, drew his sword and started to kill them.
In another episode, Sakitsuya took a rooster and had it plucked of its feathers, its wings clipped, and he called it Wakatake’s rooster. Then he choose a large rooster of his own and used precious iron to create even more deadly spurs, like some kind of early mecha-veloci-rooster. He then pitted the two against each other.
Once again, however, things did not go as planned, and when the naked bird representing Wakatake started to get the upper hand, just has had happened before, Sakitsuya drew his sword and killed the offending cock.
When Wakatake heard all of this one can only imagine his reaction. He sent thirty soldiers from the Monono Be to Kibi, where they found Sakitsuya and put him to death along with seventy other members of his household.
Of course, we have to remember that the Nihon Shoki isn’t exactly a reliable narrator when it comes to the actions of Yamato and its sovereigns—after all, they had a vested interest in making Yamato out to be the good guys, even if they weren’t. Still, we can see the echoes of conflict with Kibi, Yamato’s neighbor who controlled a not insignificant strategic location along the Seto Inland Sea and whose rulers were being buried in style comparable to Yamato’s own royalty. I see little reason to doubt that there was some ruler over Kibi, perhaps even an independent king, who tried and failed to stand up to Yamato.
In this story we also see the use of the Mononobe, specifically, as the military arm of Yamato. The Mononobe—descendants of Nigi Hayahi no Mikoto, the Other child of Heaven—were connected to the Isonokami Shrine, dedicated to Futsunushi, and clearly were a large part of the military arm of the Yamato court. In fact, much like the sovereigns themselves, they seem to have had both military and spiritual authority, with Isonokami ranking alongside Izumo, the holy Mt. Miwa, and Ise in the stories in the Chronicles. In Wakatake’s reign we often see the Mononobe chastising individuals for the court.
It is intriguing to me that here they are only said to have taken thirty soldiers to chastise Sakitsuya, and those thirty killed Sakitsuya and seventy members of his household. I must say, this strikes me as quite the event, and while we may be rounding to the nearest power of ten, it is actually a remarkably reasonable number. Even later historical accounts tend to exaggerate numbers of soldiers. Comparatively, 30 sounds like a fairly decent group, to be honest—even though it isn’t even as many as the 47 ronin of Edo period infamy. Still, does that number include all of the soldiers that Wakatake sent, or just the Mononobe? Or was it the number of noteworthy warriors, and did each one have other warriors under their command?
And how does that compare with the warbands that, as we’ve discussed, Yamato periodically sent against the Korean peninsula? Unfortunately there is still a lot we just don’t know about this period. On the one hand, since this feels like a much more local squabble, this size a group may have been more like a raiding party. Campaigns against the Korean peninsula, on the other hand, with the possibility for more loot and greater reward, might have easily drawn from much farther afield, gathering more warriors together for those raids.
I also have to admit the possibility that the numbers here are deliberately under played—the point may have been as much or more about the idea that this was a small, seemingly weaker force, which would balance well with the story of Sakitsuya’s ill-advised murderfests, where the seemingly underpowered opponent, representing Wakatake, nonetheless gained the upper hand in each instance.
Again, even with the uncertainties and less than believable narrative of obsessive megalomania, this seems to describe some sort of conflict between Kibi and Yamato, with Mononobe dishing out the pain on behalf of Wakatake—something that we have plenty of other examples of. You may remember last episode when the Carpenter, Mane, was handed over to the Mononobe for execution, and that is just one example.
In 474 the Nihon Shoki tells us about a special campaign by Mononobe no Ushiro no Sukune and Mononobe no Me no Muraji, who were sent out to smite Ise no Asahi no Iratsuko for some offence. Asahi met with Ushiro at Aowaka, in Iga. There he boasted about his skill and strength with a bow, making the claim that he could pierce two thicknesses of armor with his powerful shot.
Incredible as such a boast may have been, Ushiro no Sukune took a pause, refusing to advance for two days and a night, waiting until his fellow Mononobe, Me no Muraji showed up. Me immediately took up his sword and then ordered a third Mononobe, Mononobe no Ohowonote—whose name literally means “Great Axe Hand”—to take up his shield as he advanced into the army. This may have been a large shield made of wood, or even covered in iron plates, more like a pavise than what we might typically call a shield, and used as a screen to protect from arrows as troops approached. After all, as we’ve seen, archery was quite common, even if it wasn’t necessarily the mounted archery of later periods.
As the Mononobe came closer, Asahi decided to follow up on his boast. He fired an arrow towards Me, but Ohowonote screened him with the shield. Even then, the arrow was indeed quite powerful, piercing entirely through the shield and even getting through the armor, so that Ohowonote was just pierced by the tip, which entered only an inch. Still, Ohowonote continued to advance, screening for Me the entire way, until finally they reached their quarry, and Me slew Asahi no Iratsuko.
When it was all over, Ushiro no Sukune – the one who had waited for his compatriots - was too embarrassed by his cowardice and delayed his report to Wakatake for seven days. Eventually, though, Wakatake started asking questions about just where he was—something of a theme in many of these stories is that you can’t be too long out of court without something like a doctor’s note, or whatever the Kofun era equivalent might be. Eventually, even without Ushiro’s official report, the sovereign got word of what had happened—particularly regarding Ushiro’s cowardice and hesitation.
His punishment was not execution, however, despite what we’ve seen of Wakatake’s temper up to this point. Instead, Ushiro was stripped of his rights to the Wina Be, in Ise—the same Be that Mane the carpenter, from last episode, was from. Instead, these were given to Mononobe no Me, who had been the one to push the attack and eventually kill Asahi no Iratsuko.
By the way, we’ve actually encountered Mononobe no Me before. The Sendai Kuji Hongi – the history of the Mononobe - claims that Me was eventually made Ohomuraji, and he was the one who intervened when Wakatake wouldn’t recognize his own daughter, Kasuga no Ohoiratsume, teaching Wakatake about the birds and the bees as it were in the process.
Perhaps one of the most detailed stories of Mononobe no Me comes from an account of Hadane no Mikoto.
Now Hadane no Mikoto was the many times great grandson of none other than Saho Hiko. This is another guy we’ve encountered before, back in the days of Ikume Iribiko—Saho Hiko was the brother to Saho Hime, and he tried to have Ikume Iribiko assassinated so that he and Saho Hime could go off together. He eventually burned to death in an inaki, or rice castle—usually depicted as hastily made fortifications made of rice bales.
So fast-forward to now, and in about 469, Saho Hiko’s descendant, Hadane, was getting into his own kind of trouble. He had apparently seduced one of the court serving women or Uneme, named Yamanobe no Koshimako. While the Uneme were serving at the court they were at the pleasure of the sovereign, though we have seen before where they were at least suspected of having a dalliance with someone else and they weren’t punished. So it is unclear if this was a mutual affair or if perhaps the issue was that Hadane’s advances and eventual intercourse were unwanted by the Uneme in question.
Whatever they considered the actual crime, either violating the sovereign’s will or the will of Koshimako herself, Hadane was given for punishment into the charge of Mononobe no Me. Hadane pleaded for leniency and offered payment: in lieu of a more deadly form of atonement, he agreed to hand over eight horses and eight swords, and the Nihon Shoki even includes a song he is supposed to have made, requesting leniency.
All of this, swords and horses both, was brought to the area of Ega, near the Ishi River, in the land of Kawachi, at the western base of the mountains in the southeast corner of modern Ohosaka prefecture. There it was all laid out under an orange tree—a Tachibana, which for some reason is particularly noted.
This bringing of Hadane to account brought further honor to Mononobe no Me, and Wakatake gave him the village of Nagano, in Yega. Indeed, even now this area along the Ishi River is modernly called Kawachi-Nagano city.
And so, in summary, we do see quite a lot of Mononobe no Me, eventual head of the Mononobe clan, performing what we might call military or law enforcement powers and getting rewarded for doing so. This no doubt helped contribute to the rise of the Mononobe, who would definitely take on the mantle of one of the most important family groups in the fifth and into the sixth century. That said, the Mononobe were not exclusively responsible for dishing out royal chastisements—I hesitate to call it “justice”. For example, there is a case where a man named Katabu went with an Uneme to sacrifice to the deities of Munakata. This was in Yamato, as opposed to the famous Munakata shrine in Kyushu. When they arrived at the place where they were to perform the rites Katabu apparently decided that his carnal appetites were more important and he forced himself on the Uneme.
When Wakatake heard of this, he was incensed—though I’m not sure it was for the right reasons. He seems to have been less concerned with the rape and more concerned with the fact that such behavior was not appropriate while performing the rites. At some point we’ll get into this more, but it definitely was a pervasive attitude in early Japan that rape and romance were seen as basically the same thing—and even today there are still large, systemic problems with sexual assault in Japan.
In Wakatake’s day the circumstances of this particular incident made it a capital crime, and he initially sent Naniwa no Hitaka no Kishi out to find Katabu and put him to death. We’ve also heard of Hitaka before: back in Episode 60 he was sent to Silla to find out what had happened to Otogimi and bring back artisans from Baekje.
Hitaka searched high and low, but could not find the culprit, as Katabu had fled and hid. When Hitaka returned empty-handed, Wakatake sent Yuge no Muraji no Toyoho to go scour the land and see what he could find. Eventually he uncovered Katabu’s hiding place at Awi no Hara in the district of Mishima, where Toyoho finally caught and slew Katabu.
Many of these incidents seem to involve Uneme, and the next one I have for you is not much different—except that in this case the Uneme wasn’t from just another land. No, this time the Uneme was from Baekje, on the Korean peninsula.
Now the Nihon Shoki makes it seem like Uneme were regularly sent from the continent, which would seem to imply Baekje’s subservient status in regards to Yamato. The excerpt from the Baekje annals, however, seems to refer to Wakatake asking for a “nyeorang”, which seems to have a slightly different meaning in Baekje, and may have been viewed more as a typical form of marriage alliance at the time. Women at the time might have to travel great distances, along perilous routes under the guise of diplomatic relations.
In the case of Wakatake’s request, it appears that it went to King Gaero of Baekje, and he sent back Cheokke, the daughter of Lady Moni. In Japanese she is referred to as Princess Iketsu.
At some point on her journey across the perilous seas and through the various lands of the archipelago, Princess Iketsu met a man named Tate, from Ishikawa. The two had an affair, and word of this pairing reached Wakatake.
And by this point I suspect we all know what this means. Besides, he had specifically asked for Baekje to send someone, and he apparently desired to have her all to himself. And so, enraged, he called on Moriya, the Ohotomo no Ohomuraji. Moriya headed out with members of the Kume Be—the army—to find Princess Iketsu.
I don’t really want to go too much into the details—you can read the chronicles yourself and see what it says—but suffice it to say that Princess Iketsu met a brutal and tortuous end.
King Gaero of Baekje was none too pleased when he heard about what had happened, and he gathered up his counsel to determine an appropriate response. In the end their response was tempered—possibly because they still needed their Wa allies to help them against Silla and Goguryeo. Baekje decided that they would no longer send women as Uneme to the Yamato court, but that didn’t mean they cut off relations. Indeed, just after that Gaero told his own younger brother, Lord Kun, to go to Japan and serve there as a kind of hostage, so clearly Baekje wasn’t exactly punishing Yamato for this incident. At least not too harshly.
By the way, quick note here: When Lord Kun left for Japan, King Gaero gave him one of his consorts who was reportedly pregnant. Gaero said not to worry, but that if she delivered on their journey they could just send the child back to Baekje, since it would have been one of Gaero’s children. Basically they were sending a woman who was probably in her third trimester on a dangerous voyage overseas to a foreign land, and if she gave birth they were immediately send a newborn child back across the sea again. It sounds unbelievable.
Which leads me to suspect that it is. The Nihon Shoki claims that she did give birth on the island of Kahara in Kyushu, and the child, named Lord Shima, or Syeom in modern Korean, was then sent back to Baekje where he eventually grew up to become King Muryeong. This all feels like an attempt to tie King Muryeong to Japan, but why?
Well, it could just be an extra attempt to claim that the Baekje royal family were more closely indebted and connected to Japan, much as we had seen with Baekje princes living in Japan in the reign of Homuda Wake. There is also an interesting connection between Muryeong and the Royal Family, but it wouldn’t come until later. You see Yamabe no Sumera no Mikoto, aka Kammu Tenno, who reigned from 781 to 806, claimed descent through a royal Baekje bloodline that traces back to King Muryeong. It seems that Yamabe’s mother was descended from a son of King Muryeong who was living in the Japan archipelago in the early 6th century.
Muryeong, who would reign between 501 to 523, is also known through his tomb, which was excavated in 1971. There he is known through his personal name, as recorded in the Samguk Sagi, of King Sama. Here I can’t help but note the similarities between “Sama” and the Japanese word “S(h)ima”, which is the name they seem to give to him. Regardless, I am highly doubtful of this whole story that claims he was born on an island off of Kyushu, as the logic just doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense.
So: back to the Korean peninsula. Of course, it wasn’t just Baekje that Wakatake was dealing with, and during his reign, Wa troops would see a tremendous amount of action over there. We had already talked about how Wakatake’s actions during his father’s funerary rites had started things off on the wrong foot when he briefly imprisoned a Silla delegation over a misunderstanding. And then there was the issue we talked about just two episodes back, in Episode 60, with Tasa no Omi being sent to govern Nimna, but then ending up in Silla after he realized it had all been a ploy for Wakatake to steal his wife. That was all said to have happened in or around 462.
Two years later, in 464, Silla was apparently looking to Goguryeo for help against future Wa attacks. According to the Nihon Shoki, they had been given over to “vain talk”—which sounds like a diplomatic way to say that they were talking trash about Yamato and others. They had stopped sending any kind of gifts to Yamato. And now, at least according to the Nihon Shoki, which is hardly the most reliable narrator, they were quaking in their boots and requesting support from Goguryeo in the north in case Yamato decided to do something about these perceived insults—which, given Wakatake’s track record on controlling his temper, seems a reasonable enough concern.
And so, sure enough, Goguryeo sent a contingent of about 100 men to Silla for their protection, but it turned out that this force might also have had other aims—after all, this wasn’t exactly the era of selfless philanthropy. During a furlough period, one of the Goguryeo soldiers left to go home, taking with him a Silla servant. As they were traveling, he let slip to his servant that the way things were going, Goguryeo would occupy and control Silla before too much longer.
The servant could hardly believe what he had heard, and he knew he would have to get word back to his own people. And so he pretended to be sick, and through this ruse he was able to escape back to Silla, where he told the court everything he had heard.
Well the Silla King—likely King Jabi, assuming the dates are correct—was upset, but in a bit of a pickle. The Goguryeo troops had already insinuated themselves into key positions and fortifications. And so he sent out a secret message to his people, telling them to “kill the cocks in their own houses.” Sure enough, the people of Silla rose up and killed the Goguryeo warriors, and only a one man escaped back to his homeland, where he told the King of Goguryeo everything that had happened.
Now it was the King of Goguryeo’s turn to be apopleptic. He raised an army, determined to punish Silla.
Eventually, the Silla court came to hear the sounds of Goguryeo music on all sides, and they quickly realized they had a fight on their hands. Despite the fact that this started because of their treatment of Yamato, they apparently had only one recourse left: They sent a messenger to the King of Nimna to request assistance from none other than our good friends, the Wa.
The King of Nimna was able to persuade three men of Wa to help Silla, to include Ikaruga, of the Kashiwade no Omi; Wonashi, of the Kibi no Omi; and Akameko, a Kishi of Naniwa.
These three generals set off with their troops and marched north to Silla, where they eventually spied the Goguryeo encampment. Here it seems they found themselves in a stalemate with the Goguryeo troops. Neither side seems to have wanted to engage directly, and so they sat there, watching each other, for 10 days.
Finally, one night, the Wa troops found a steep place, where Goguryeo could not see them, and a path through it. So they passed all of their baggage that way, including the wagons. From the Goguryeo perspective, it looked like the Wa troops were retreating, so they gathered up their men and headed after them, hoping to catch the Wa troops from behind.
When they caught up with the departing baggage train, I imagine that the Goguryeo men were in good spirits. After ten days of tense waiting they were finally going to see an end to these interlopers. However, that mood soon soured as the Wa troops who had been hiding burst out in an ambush on Goguryeo’s left and right flanks. Suddenly, the predator became the prey, and soon the entire Goguryeo army was put to rout, saving Silla—though that was the beginning of a major falling out between Silla and Goguryeo.
Meanwhile, Kashiwade marched up to the King and warned Silla that maybe they should lay off the trash talk for a bit. Perhaps they might want to stay on good terms with the Wa court, or else maybe they wouldn’t answer the call in the future.
Now this whole episode is rife with questions for me. For one, there is very little actual interaction with Wakatake, or even some otherwise unmentioned “sovereign”. Also, it seems like it is the King of Nimna who is negotiating and sending Wa troops to help fight Silla. This would seem to give credence to the idea that Nimna was more closely allied with Wa, and perhaps these generals were already in the area. I do raise an eyebrow at the fact that one of them was apparently from Kibi, and then there are no Mononobe mentioned—perhaps their activities were still largely confined to the areas of Yamato and its immediate surroundings. Meanwhile it was others who were handing out chastisements on the Korean Peninsula.
It is also possible that these individuals were not actually from Yamato proper. Perhaps these each represent other lands in the archipelago, sending their own troops to assist, much as Yamato’s own expeditions were likely a coalition of different groups. Once again we are at the mercy of our limited sources, which are hardly unbiased in their interpretation of events.
One more thing of note—literally. Aston has a footnote to this fight where he tells us that this whole thing doesn’t appear in any of the Korean histories, and the tactics and even the speech to Silla seem lifted straight out of a Chinese history of the Wei period—a source that we know the Chroniclers had some access to.
Now despite the warnings to Silla to keep playing nice—including sending tribute to Yamato—Silla apparently remained, shall we say, independent minded. And so, in the following year, 465, Wakatake decided to chastise Silla. He wanted to go in person—something that feels totally in character for this sovereign—but pre-travel divination revealed a kami who told him not to go. And so he instead gave orders to four others to go in his stead, claiming that Silla had taken the “Western Lands” on the peninsula, and that they were preventing Goguryeo from sending tribute while also devouring walled cities belonging to Baekje.
And so he appointed four men as generals, including Ki no Woyumi no Sukune and Wokahi no Sukune. In particular, Ki no Woyumi was suggested to lead the forces.
Ki no Woyumi agreed, but with a weird conditional flex to his going. He reached out to Ohotomo no Moriya—the same Moriya who had been sent out to punish Princess Iketsu, the Baekje Uneme who had an affair on her way to the Yamato court. Woyumi mentioned to Moriya that he was happy to go but, you know, his wife had passed away and, well, he was a bit lonely. After all, there was nobody to take care of him. I mean, other than his children, his servants, and all the rest.
Woyumi must have had some clout, as Moriya passed this along to Wakatake, who sent an Uneme from Kibi to go and quote-unquote “look after him”, if you know what I mean. And so Wakatake “sent him off with a shove to his axle”.
It does appear that did the trick. The four generals made their way to Silla, violently butchering their way through the districts as they went. King Jabi of Silla got word of the Wa advance into the land of Tok and apparently high-tailed it out of there. Ki no Woyumi in particular pursued Silla and ended up killing the enemy general, though the King survived.
Now most of Tok was under control, but a portion would not submit. There is some confusion here as Tok may have been counted as a part of Nimna, but if Nimna really was equivalent to the Kara confederacy, then it was really more of a collection of independent lands loosely associated under a single banner, probably similar to the situation in the archipelago. Either way, it seems that not all of Tok was happy with their new overlords—possibly something to do with how they had “butchered” their way up there in the first place.
And so the four generals met up and together, as a single force, went out to deal with the remaining band of resistance. This fighting, however, was not nearly so easy as routing the Silla forces, and the Wa took heavy losses. Men of the Ohotomo and the Ki were both slain. One man, Tsumaro, went looking for his lord, Ohotomo no Katari, one of the four generals, only to find he had been slain. Tsumaro, grief-stricken and without hope, flung himself into the fighting, and perished against the enemy.
It soon became clear that the fighting was too heavy, and the Wa forces—which are labelled in the Nihon Shoki specifically as “government forces”—had to fall back.
Some time in this campaign, Ki no Woyumi, the general-in-chief, fell ill, and shortly after this battle he passed away while there at the front.
Command of the troops fell to Wokahi no Sukune, who took over as general-in-chief. At least, he held command for a time. You see, word must have traveled quickly, for Woyumi’s son, Ki no Ohiha no Sukune, heard of his father’s death and proceeded to Silla. Once there, as his father’s heir, he took over his father’s command, taking it over from Wokahi no Sukune.
Well this pissed off Wokahi no Sukune to no end. After all, he had been the one out there, fighting and bleeding, and here comes this, this CHILD, and just because he was Woyumi’s son, he takes over, taking complete authority of the troops. Who wouldn’t be infuriated about that?
And yet, from what I can tell, that was the way of Yamato at the time. It was families, more than individuals, who controlled things. The head of a family might have particular duties, and those duties were likely to then fall to his son. It is possible that responsibilities—and the prestige, influence, and even financial incentives that came with them—could be transferred to someone else, but even then it was likely to be inherited by members of their own family.
Nonetheless, though this may have been one of the cultural norms of the period, it didn’t mean that people were always happy with it. Certainly Wokahi was less than thrilled. He contacted the other remaining original general, Karako no Sukune, and warned him that eventually Ki no Ohiha would eventually take his command away as well. This bred suspicion in Karako no Sukune, who also began to distrust Ohiha and his attentions.
This rivalry between the three Wa generals—apparently nobody had been sent to replace Ohotomo no Katari—grew obvious enough that soon word reached the king of Baekje, an ally of Wa in pushing against Silla. He invited all three of them to join him, hoping to put an end to the tensions between them.
However, as the three were on their way to them, Ohiha stopped to let his horse drink from a river. Karako saw this as an opportunity, and tried to shoot Ohiha from behind, hoping to take him out of the equation, but he missed. His arrow stuck in the saddle frame, and startled Ohiha and his horse. Ohiha looked around for the culprit and returned fire, shooting down Karako mid-stream, where he died.
And with that, any pretense at working together again was shot. Wokahi and Ohiha could no longer trust each other, and so the army broke up. They never reached the palace of the King of Silla, and they returned home.
This is quite the episode, and it could easily be taken as one of the many invasions by Wa recorded in the Samguk Sagi—after all, we have raids recorded in 459, 462, 463, 476, and 477—throughout the reigns of King Jabi as well as Wakatake. Of course, all of these raids ended in the Wa’s ignominious defeat in one way or another.
This is also one of the reasons why some suggest that Wakatake is not King Bu, in the Liu Song chronicles, but rather King Kou. After all, it is Bu who requested assistance so that he could continue Kou’s desire to subjugate the Korean peninsula. Certainly there are no further great invasions of Silla noted in the Nihon Shoki. If there was anything that was a particularly likely candidate for this in other sources I would suggest, perhaps, the events of the year 477, when the Samguk Sagi claims the Wa mobilized troops to invade using five routes, but, in the end, they did not succeed and returned from whence they came. That could square with the idea of multiple generals, and even the idea that they ended up departing after a falling out. Still, nothing is quite certain, and Baekje’s position in particular may have been more tenuous, leading to questions about the Baekje king’s involvement. The Goguryeo annals do have some notes about attacks into Silla, but nothing about being invited in to protect against the Wa or the later slaughter of their soldiers. The Baekje Annals of the Samguk Sagi, meanwhile, have tremendous lacunae from this period—missing information that makes it hard to construct a full narrative.
There definitely seems to have been a decline in Yamato power on the peninsula, since in 475, as Goguryeo was descending on the Baekje capital of Hansong, Baekje sent requests for help not to the Wa, but rather to their neighbor and erstwhile rival, Silla.
Of course, this isn’t exactly depicted in Yamato’s version of events—perhaps due to some selective memories on the part of the Chroniclers, or just a different perspective. But still, it seems clear that Wakatake’s own ambitions were not to be realized.
By 479, Wakatake had taken ill, and he handed over the reigns of government to his son, and Crown Prince, Prince Shiraga—who may very well have sent the emissaries to the Liu Song court attributed to King Bu.
But we’ll leave some of that for next episode. For now, I think we can close out this look at the military dealings of Yamato in the reign of the fierce Wakatake. From his chastisement of Silla and other individuals, often with the help of the local Mononobe, to the campaigns on the peninsula, which may or may not have been under Yamato control, there was certainly plenty of blood spilt during this time.
Next episode, I’d like to look at some of the results of all of these campaigns of expansion, especially as regards contact with the Korean peninsula. War and other factors often creates migratory actions in population groups, and so we see people of Baekje and Silla arriving in the archipelago, bringing with them their technologies and beliefs of statecraft, religion, and more. In fact, it seems that many things that we might think of as “indigenous” to Japan actually spring from continental sources. But what does that mean for us? We’ll discuss that next episode.
And, so, 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 on iTunes, Spotify, or 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 through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the link 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. We would love to hear from you and your ideas.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

— (2022). Inabe Jinja Website. http://www.inabe-jinjya.or.jp/index2.html. Last checked 3/31/2022
Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Kim, P., Shultz, E. J., Kang, H. H. W., & Han'guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn'guwŏn. (2012). The Koguryo annals of the Samguk sagi. Seongnam-si, Korea: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Soumaré, Massimo (2007), Japan in Five Ancient Chinese Chronicles: Wo, the Land of Yamatai, and Queen Himiko. ISBN: 978-4-902075-22-9
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253
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
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 61: Bad Behavior and the People that Excuse It

April 1, 2022 Joshua Badgley

19th century artist’s interpretation of Yūryaku Tennō, aka Ōhatsuse Wakatake no Ōkimi, formally the 21st sovereign in the official imperial lineage, defeating a boar on the slopes of Mt. Katsuraki. Image from Wikimedia Commons.

RSS

Archives

On Hunting

A lot of chapters focus on various hunting expeditions, indicating that this was a popular pastime of the sovereigns, and likely other elites. Hunting would have likely been an integral part of the lifeways of people in the archipelago from time immemorial. Whether during Jōmon, the Yayoi, or the Kofun period, hunting or fishing was often necessary for subsistence, providing needed protein in the diet. That said, it seems clear that the hunts the sovereigns are going on are much more social and status-conscious affairs. They are proceeding out with a retinue, often quite far from their base of operations—this would have been quite the undertaking.

In many cultures, this kind of hunting is often a type of practice for war. After all, many of the skills—teamwork, riding, strength, endurance, skill with the bow or other weapons, etc.—would have been useful analogs for the kind of skills required of a warrior. Prowess in the area of hunting might therefore be analogous to martial prowess—certainly it seems that some of the same types of praise are heaped on both hunters and warriors.

It is also clear that these were elite activities, with the mobilization of numerous others who would be helping the elites to flush the game, capture it, and, eventually, deal with the carcasses once a hunt was successful. This was a large undertaking, and strikes me as much as a display of wealth and power as an enjoyable outing, which is perhaps one of the reasons they are so often memorialized in stories, along with similar activities, such as state banquets.

It is not, perhaps, dissimilar from the Academy Awards, where enough people of status are gathered and others are watching. Something that happens there is going to just be that much more memorable—even if it would have made the papers, anyway, an event at the Oscars ceremony is going to naturally be more memorable and receive more attention than something that happened at, say, a private party or other less public venue.

Just something to think about as we talk about these events, which are not exactly a modern or even subsistence style of hunting. This isn’t about getting up before dawn, sitting in a blind, waiting for game. This is a hunting party—emphasis on the party.

Dramatis Personae

Keeping up the Dramatis Personae. Some of this may be repetitive from last episode. Further down there will be talk of various locations as well.

Ōhatsuse Wakatake no Ōkimi

Aka Yūryaku Tennō (雄略天皇), formally listed as the 21st sovereign of the imperial lineage. He was the Great King, or Sovereign, from about 457 to 479. We also have his name on two iron swords found in tombs from around the period, which confirm his name as something like “Wakatakiru no Opokimi”. Despite the fact that a fair amount seems to have been accomplished during his relatively long reign—20 years is nothing to sneeze at—he seems mostly remembered for his cruelty and violence. Granted, it is unclear just how different this was from the norm at the time—not to excuse what he was doing so much as to place it in context. From everything we’ve seen, after a sovereign’s death there was a lot of chaos and violence, and so it is unsurprising that the one who would rise to the top might just be the one best at dealing with the violence and demonstrating authority in some way.

Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune

Aka Ingyō Tennō (允恭天皇) , and possibly “Oasazuma”. Officially the 19th sovereign in the line, and, according to the Chronicles, the father of both Wakatake and Anaho. That said, if the records of the Liu Song dynasty are accurate, it is entirely possible that some of this got mixed up, and it is possible that the lineage up to this point is a little confused.

Osaka no Naka tsu Hime

Woasatsuma’s queen, and purported mother of the current sovereign, Wakatake. When the “Dowager Queen” is mentioned, is it referencing her or is it referencing Nakashi Hime? While, strictly speaking, it would likely point to Nakashi Hime, who was wife to Prince Anaho, it isn’t exactly clear to me that this is the case, and it seems equally likely that the person to talk down Wakatake would be his mother, rather than his step-daughter. One thing is certain—there are some strange relationships formed through the incestuous marriage practices as detailed in the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki.

Kusaka no Hatahi Hime

Also known as Kusaka no Hatabi, given that Old Japanese didn’t really have an “H” sound and so what we render as “H” was more likely a “P” or “B” sound. She was the sister to Prince Ōkusaka, and therefore the daughter of Ōsazaki no Mikoto, aka Nintoku Tennō, officially the 16th sovereign, and his consort, Kaminaga Hime of Himuka. She was originally married to her half-brother, Izaho Wake, with whom she had a daughter, Nakashi. After Izaho Wake's death she and her daughter went back to live with her brother. But she was then married off to Wakatake, her nephew through her half-brother, Woasatsuma, while her daughter married Anaho. That put her in the unique situation of being the queen twice, both before and after her own daughter. This causes some confusion when the narrative only refers to people by titles, and so we get the “Queen” actually being the mother of the “Dowager Queen”, at least if the Chronicles are to be believed.

Nakashi Hime

Princess Nakashi was the daughter of Izaho Wake and Kusaka no Hatahi. She was married off to her uncle, Prince Ōkusaka, and gave birth to a child, Prince Mayuwa. After Ōkusaka was killed, she was taken as a wife and made queen by the sovereign, Anaho no Ōkimi, but they had no children together, leaving the question of an heir up for debate.

Mononobe

We’ve mentioned the Mononobe before—a powerful house that was connected with Isonokami shrine. Their name and their exploits indicates that they were largely known for their role in the military affairs of Yamato. In the reign of Wakatake they are often called upon as guards, soldiers, and executioners as needed to enforce Yamato’s laws and traditions.

Ōtsu no Umakahi (大津馬飼)

This name is purely a locative and job description—the horse-keeper (likely a member of the Umakahi-Be) from Ōtsu. We know little more about him—he seems to have merely been an attendant, and not from a particularly powerful family. See below for information on Ōtsu.

Hi no Hime (日媛/日之媛)

We know that Hi no Hime was from Yamato, likely of the Yamato no Atahe, the Yamato kinship group. She was an Uneme of the court, meaning a female attendant. She seems to be the younger sister of Agoko no Sukune, given over to court service as an Uneme in the reign of Izaho Wake, aka Richuu.

Agoko no Sukune

Agoko is listed here as the Yamato no Kuni no Miyatsuko, but we’ve seen him before. He first showed up at the start of the reign of Ōsazaki, aka Nintoku, Wakatake’s grandfather. Back then he was helping to settle the dispute over who had rights to certain rice granaries, as you may recall. Initially he is just referenced as Agoko, but later in that same reign he has been elevated as Yamato no Atahe. His elder brother, Maro, is listed before this as the “ancestor of the Yamato no Atahe”, but up to this point, Agoko seems to be the first to actually hold that title or name directly, and not just as an ancestor, which would imply that he may have been the first, possibly because of the deeds committed for Ōsazaki. Later, he kept that position, even though he sided against Izaho Wake and with Prince Nakatsu, he quickly gave in and offered to send his younger sister, Hi no Hime to the court as an Uneme. Now here they are again—for what appears to be the last time, and we see that he is not just Yamato no Atahe, but now he is Yamato no Kuni no Miyatsuko, and he has been granted the personal title of Sukune as well.

Shishihito Be (宍人部)

A Be group created, ostensibly of those in charge of “fleshing”—that is to say the rendering and preparation of a carcass. The Nihon Shoki makes it seem as if their creation is almost accidental, to cover up for a royal faux pas by Wakatake, though that feels apocryphal.

Uda no Mito Be no Masakida, Takame

Two members of the Mito Be of Uda who were attendants on the Queen Dowager. Mito Be (御戸部) seems to be the “Be” of the “Honorable (or Holy or Royal) Door.” It could be just one person, Masakida no Takame, but it seems more likely that it is two, as Aston has translated it.

Saho no Kotori Wake

There is little we know about Kotoriwake beyond that they were apparently some kind of servant or vassal to Agoko no Sukune. “Saho” was the name of the wife of Ikume Iribiko (aka Suinin) and her brother (Saho Hime and Saho Hiko). Here it may be as much a locative as anything—much as it probably was back in the reign of Ikume. What intrigues me is that there is only one other mention of “Saho” that I found in the Nihon Shoki, and that also occurs in this reign when a descendant of Saho Hiko, Hadane no Mikoto, seduces an Uneme. The fact that he is using the kabane of “Mikoto” and that here this is Saho no Kotori “Wake”—which we’ve previously been told was supposedly an indication of royal lineage—suggests that me that Saho Hiko was not just some random prince and that his family line still held some amount of remembered authority, if not actual authority at this time.

Fumu Be no Musa no Suguri no Ao

The “Fumu Be” would appear to be the scribes and historians. Ao would appear to be the “Suguri of Musa”—which is written with characters indicating that he is the “village master” of Musa. It isn’t clear if that is the head of a single village or various villages. Given the pronunciation that comes down to us, it is quite likely a continental title, which would fit with the individual being tied to a scribal Be. Ao will show up later as we talk about Yamato’s dealings on and with the continent.

Hinokuma no Tamitsukashi no Hakatoko

Hakatoko was the Tamitsukashi (“Employer of People”) of Hinokuma. Aston notes that this seems like a fairly low title, especially for someone who is supposed to be a close friend of the sovereign. Hakatoko will also come more into play in discussions about Yamato’s dealings with the continental powers.

Hitokoto Nushi

The “One Word Master” is the name of a kami of Katsuraki. Supposedly this kami could bring good or bad fortune with a single word, which, to be honest, doesn’t seem that different from any other kami that we’ve encountered. There is some thought that this was actually a kami that was popular in the 8th century, and while he doesn’t appear elsewhere in the Nihon Shoki, references do pop up in later 8th and 9th century sources. The main shrine for Hitokoto Nushi is, unsurprisingly, in Gose in modern Katsuragi.

Chiisako Be no Muraji no Sukaru

Sukaru is, we eventually learn, the first member of the Chiisako Be no Muraji. Based on the kabane of Muraji, it was not an insignificant house, at least not by the 8th century. I doubt it started out as a Muraji level household. The name means the “Be of Little Children” and I expect to get into that in episode 62, though I suspect that this is a false etymology to explain the name and origins of a family that was more important in the 7th and 8th centuries, since we don’t see the family again in the Nihon Shoki until an entry from Temmu’s reign in 672.

Ikazuchi

Earlier in the Nihon Shoki there was mention of Ikazuchi being born from the pieces of Kagutsuchi, the fire spirit. Kagutsuchi, you may recall, burned his mother, Izanami, when he was born, so that she died in childbirth. Izanagi was so upset that, according to some of the stories, he slew Kagutsuchi and cut him up into three pieces. One of those pieces became Ikazuchi, which is just the word for “lightning”. There are actually a fair number of lightning and thunder kami who could easily be amalgamated together, and it is unclear in the Nihon Shoki whether they intended Ikazuchi as the kami of Mt. Miwa or if he was just a kami.

Nonetheless, his appearance as a snake fits in well with many of the stories we have of encounters with kami like this. Later, the god of lightning and thunder would be known as raijin—just another reading of ikazuchi no kami—and given a more humanoid makeover, which is how most of us know him, today.

(W)ina Be no Mane

The Inabe (in old Japanese it would have been “Winabe”) are said to come from the land of Settsu near the Ina River. Mane was an expert carpenter, and that seems to be what the Inabe were known for—they were involved in various construction projects in the Nara period.

Locations

It isn’t just the people, but the places that are important. So here I’ll try to bring up some of those that we encounter with links to the area where they may be in the modern day. Taking a look, you may notice that most of these places were in the area of the Nara Basin, which is probably where the court had the most direct control, even if they had considerable influence in much of the rest of the archipelago.

Akitsuno

The “Dragonfly Field” (Akitsu being an old word for dragonfly, spelled tonbo in kanji: 蜻蛉). We know it was in Yoshino, and there is a modern “Akitsu no Ono” park that seems to hearken back to this incident, but whether that is actually the place referenced I am not sure.

Asakura Palace

Traditionally, Wakatake's palace is said to be the Asakura Palace in Hatsuse--known today simply as Hase--which, by tradition was said to be in Sakurai.

Awaji Island

Awaji is the largest island situated entirely in the Seto Inland Sea. Not only was it a popular hunting location for sovereigns, but it was also thought to be part of the initial creation story of the Japanese archipelago, with Onogoro Island situated just to the south.

Hinokuma

A district of the ancient land of Yamato, somewhere near modern Asuka, where there is still a Hinokuma district.

Katsuraki

Aka Katsuragi. This area on the eastern edge of the Nara Basin is still there as the modern city of Katsuragi. It was the home of Sotsu Hiko, whom some suggest may have been an early ruler in his own right, given some of his exploits and the fact that his daughter, Iwa no Hime, ended up as Queen and giving birth to future sovereigns even though she was not, per the Chronicles, descended from the royal line. Later we would see something similar with the daughter of Tsubura no Omi, Kara Hime, who would marry Wakatake and give birth to the Crown Prince and one of the Ise Princesses. In the latter part of the 5th century, this also appears to be a popular hunting spot, along with Awaji and Yoshino, likely because of the mountainous forest regions that would have been ideal for game.

Mie

The modern prefecture of Mie covers the old land of Ise. The actual district of Mie is in the north of the modern prefecture and the old country/province.

Mt. Mimoro aka Mt. Miwa

Mt. Miwa is the sacred mountain in the southeast corner of the Nara Basin. It was likely the main holy site for the early Yamato courts and continues to hold a special place even to this day.

Musa

An area just south of Mt. Unebi, probably in southern districts of modern Kashihara city, between modern Toriyachō and Misechō. It may have one time been under the Miwa no Kimi—the family connected with the sacred Mt. Miwa, aka Mt. Mimoro. Various other individuals from the narrative also are attached, including Musa no Suguri, who may have been a local village or district head in the area.

Ōtsu (大津)

Mentioned merely as the place that one of the Umakahi Be was from, one presumes it is the same as the modern Ōtsu at the southernmost shore of Lake Biwa.

Uda

Likely referencing an area in or near the modern city of Uda, which uses the same name but different kanji, in the mountainous region southeast of the Nara Basin and Wakatake’s Asakura palace in Hase.

Yoshino

Aka Yeshino, which appears in many of these earlier stories. Yoshino is a large area in the heavily forested mountains and valleys south of the Nara Basin. There was reportedly a royal villa in the area where the court went, and later sovereigns likewise would travel to the “Yoshino Miya”, which some believe to be in the area of modern Miyataki, on the banks of the Yoshino River. There was at least one other palace built in the area in the 14th century, emphasizing the continued popularity of this area, which is known for its beautiful cherry trees among other things.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 61: Bad Behavior and the People that Excuse It.
First off, quick shout out to Owen for donating to support the show. If you want to join Owen, you can donate over on Ko-Fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or check us out on Patreon. More information at the end of the episode.
We have been talking about the reign of Ohohatsuse no Wakatake no Ohokimi, aka Yuuryaku Tenno, in the latter part of the 5th century. As a quick reminder, this is the first sovereign for whom we actually have real corroborating evidence from the Chronicles and other sources.
Either way, we do know that there was a sovereign named Wakatake—or Wakatakiru—in the latter part of the 5th century, and while many of the entries in the Chronicles are still doubtful—this is still several hundred years before it would all be compiled—in general the dates in the Nihon Shoki are considered more reliable, at least for things that one could reasonably expect would have been officially recorded, as opposed to just stories that were passed on orally.
If you’ve been listening to the past few episodes, you might have gotten the general vibe that Wakatake wasn’t a particularly nice guy. Indeed, despite a literally glowing description of his birth—and I mean that, the Kojiki and the Sendai Kuji Hongi claim that the palace was filled with a bright light when he was born—Well, despite such a description, it is clear in the Chronicles that Wakatake had his shortcomings, namely a famous temper and a penchant for cruelty.

So this episode we’ll dive even more into some of this bad behavior, which even the premodern commentors take a negative view of. The Nihon shoki is more critical in general, but even the Kojiki paints him in a pretty bad light sometimes – and what is also interesting in these tales are the ways in which others try to mitigate Wakatake’s shortcomings, reinterpreting his behavior to smooth things over. So let’s get into it, shall we?
One of the first and best examples is a story out of the Nihon Shoki, which took place, we are told, in 458, early in Wakatake’s reign. He and the court had gone to the Yoshino Palace, and from there he went out hunting in the area of Mimase. This was around the southeast corner of the Nara basin. This had apparently become a new popular destination for hunting, much as Awaji island was with Wakatake’s predecessors.
In the morning, Wakatake went out with his retinue of ministers and stewards, and by all accounts they had a fruitful hunt—in fact, they were so successful they had just about depleted the local fauna.
As was typical in one of these official hunts, the stewards that were brought along were expected to dress the game brought in by the sovereign and his ministers. They would skin, clean, and render the game down into component meat, skin, et cetera. It was bloody work, and in later centuries, at least, would be considered a polluting activity that would require ritual ablutions, and was often left to others to handle whenever possible.
And so it was somewhat shocking when Wakatake suggested to his high-born ministers that they get their hands dirty and take part in the work of dismembering the carcasses themselves.
Nobody knew how to respond to this. One can imagine the pall of awkward silence that fell over the assembled crowd. After all, nobody really wanted to get elbows deep into the blood and guts of the game they had taken—they had people to do that for a reason. But neither did anyone want to tell that to Wakatake, who, one must remember, only a year or two earlier had murdered his own family in a deadly play for the throne.
Of course, this silence only further angered Wakatake, who was upset that nobody would say anything, and so he took out his anger on one of the stewards, the horse-keeper of Ohotsu, and killed him right there, in front of everyone.
One can imagine that things remained tense around the encampment after that, and when the rest of the royal court, including the current and previous Queens, Hatahi Hime and, one assumes, her daughter, Nakashi Hime, though perhaps they are referring to Wakatake’s mother, Osaka no Naka tsu Hime, who had been queen to Woasazuma Wakugo.
When they showed up it was clear that everyone was on edge, and no doubt a few discrete questions allowed them to quickly discern what had happened. The two women, the Queen and the Dowager Queen, chose an Uneme, Hi no Hime, who was the daughter of the Atahe of Yamato. They had her take the sovereign, Wakatake, a drink of sake. The sake, being served by a beautiful woman, was enough to distract Wakatake’s anger and get him to calm down enough so that the two royal women could talk with him.
They listened as he recounted his version of events. He said that he had wanted to cut up the meat and have an impromptu banquet there on the moors to celebrate the huge success they had had, but everyone had just gone silent.
The Queen Dowager mollified the petulant Wakatake—I imagine there were a few “there there” moments—and suggested that the rest of his retinue didn’t understand how Wakatake really wanted to create a new family Be group—the Shishihito, or Fleshers’, Be—who would be dedicated to this kind of field dressing and general butchery. She praised this initiative that she claimed Wakatake had clearly intended, offering up two of her own attendants to be a part of this new group: Masakida and Takame, both from the Mito Be of Uda.
This gesture, which allowed Wakatake to save some face for his murderous behavior, seems to have worked, and others joined in. The no doubt by now aged Agoko no Sukune, the governor, or Miyatsuko, of Yamato, who had served through several reigns, now, offered up some of the Kotori Wake of Saho and the other elite houses—the Omi and the Muraji, as well as the Tomo no Miyatsuko and the Kuni no Miyatsuko—all offered someone to form this new family.
Of course, this was hardly an isolated incident, but just a particularly memorable one. The Nihon Shoki goes on to comment that apparently Wakatake killed a great many people due to his mercurial temperament, and the court itself censured him, such that he was known to later generations as the “Greatly Wicked Sovereign”. This may be a note more of the Chroniclers than his contemporaries, however, as the term used—Dai’aku tenno or perhaps the Dai’aku Sumera no Mikoto—is clearly anachronistic to this period. Regardless I think we get a good idea of just how he was judged by history. The Nihon Shoki goes on to say that Wakatake’s only real “friends” in the court were Awo Musa no Suguri of the Fumu Be and Hakatoko, the Tamitsukashi of Hinokuma, though even this is something of a backhanded compliment:“Suguri” is likely a word from the Korean peninsula, and the characters used imply a meaning of Village Master, while “Tamitsukushi” appears to mean an “Employer of people”. Both of these were rather low class designations for people said to be friends of the sovereign himself, and one has to wonder that he didn’t have any other friends within the court. They would later be two of his primary ambassadors to the Liu Song court on the continent.
Yoshino or nearby Katsuraki, provide the backdrop for a fair number of the stories about Wakatake, from finding a maiden there that he apparently wed (though we have no further information on that from the Kojiki) to meetings with gods and near death experiences. Many of these stories take place while hunting.
One of the stories that shows up in both the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki is the story of the dragonfly and the gadfly. In both cases, Wakatake was on the Yoshino plain when a gadfly came down to bite him. But then a dragonfly came and, in turn, bit the gadfly and flew off. The dragonfly was likened to a loyal attendant, helping his sovereign, and there is a long poem, which I won’t recount here at the moment. Suffice it to say, the incident referenced in the poem was claimed as the primary reason for how the area, the Akitsu Plain, received its name—“Akitsu” being an old name—possibly the original Japanese name—for “Dragonfly”, which is, today, more commonly known by the on’yomi reading of the kanji used in the text: tonbo.
Needless to say, it is unclear if this was originally about Wakatake, or simply attributed to him later. Both the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki mention the incident, but in slightly different places in the story.
Another story found in both works is intriguing because it is clearly the same story with two different outcomes. According to the Nihon Shoki, as Wakatake was out hunting on Katsuraki, there was a strange bird, only the size of a sparrow, but with a long tail that dragged upon the ground. As it flew it let out a cry that sounded like a warning: “Have a Care! Have a Care!”
Suddenly, a raging wild boar emerged from the foliage, and Wakatake’s retinue ran and climbed trees to get away. Wakatake tried to encourage them: “When a savage beast meets with a man, it immediately stops. Shoot it with an arrow and then stab it.” However, they were all afraid, and stayed up in the trees, unable to will themselves down to face the fearsome beast.
Only Wakatake stood his ground. As the boar came charging forward, he nocked an arrow in his bow and let it fly. The arrow pierced the boar’s hide, but it kept charging, seemingly unphased. It made an attempt to gore Wakatake, but he gave it a kick that killed the beast.
After killing the boar, Wakatake was furious, and he was determined to also kill every single one of his attendants. After all, they had all fled, leaving Wakatake alone with the beast. He had them rounded up for formal execution.
Apparently, by way of apology, the attendants sang a song about climbing up into the trees, and how sorry they were. Fortunately for them, the Queen heard their lament, and tried to intercede to stay their execution.
Now, at first, Wakatake was stubborn, and he was even upset that his queen was apparently taking the side of the attendants. However, she laid out the political ramifications, and mentioned how people were generally talking about how much Wakatake loved the chase and loved hunting game, as opposed to tending to his duties as sovereign.
Here the Nihon Shoki inserts a clear passage from continental sources that basically states that if the sovereign put his attendants to death, he was no better than a wolf. Eventually Wakatake relented and stayed the execution of the attendants, and as they were leaving, Wakatake heard shouts of “Long Live the Sovereign”, which pleased him to no end. As he put it: while everyone had caught game, he had caught words of praise, which were much better. This seemed to change his mood around entirely.
There is a lot here that mirrors the previous story, once again showing a quick-tempered Wakatake who was quick to order that people be put to death, and only through the intercession of some outside trusted advisor—in the two cases we’ve seen so far, it was the women in his life-- who display the true political savvy necessary to rule. This kind of influence and political involvement would be a hallmark of ambitious women well into the Nara and early Heian periods, even as the court adopted a more patriarchal model from the continent.
The story also demonstrates Wakatake’s physical prowess. Few men would be able to stand their ground against a charging, wild boar, who are renowned for their ferocity and tenacity. In Europe, the traditional hunting implement was a specialized boar spear, which included a cross-piece partway up the shaft. That way, if the hunter successfully speared the boar, the cross-piece would help prevent that boar from continuing to move forward along the spear and gore the hunter, which they were known to do. To take one out with an arrow and a kick would be quite the feat. It is almost as if Wakatake were some kind of super hero, like a Captain Yamato, but without all of the redeeming moral and ethical qualities.
The Kojiki gives a slightly different version of this story, though built around the same core, which is probably that poem that was mentioned, earlier. Here, though, the poem is put in the mouth of Wakatake, for it was he who climbed the tree to get away. In the Kojiki version there is no warning, and the boar suddenly appears. Wakatake immediately shoots at it with a hummingbulb arrow. Of course, that just pisses it off—the humming bulb on those arrows was likely meant for flushing birds and game, and given the bulge and the typical style of crescent-shaped arrowhead used on those arrow, it would have cut, but wouldn’t have really pierced the boar’s hide. That suggests that it was a mistake—perhaps Wakatake already had it readied, as they expected to take birds or he mistakenly pulled it in his haste.
Either way, he now had an enraged boar headed his way, and so he ran away and climbed a black alder tree, where he—not his attendants—sang the song.
Given that song, it seems that the verse was actually the core of this story as it was passed down, and was probably somewhat well known in parts of the archipelago. This points to an oral history that may not have been well remembered, in truth, and so all of the other details are a bit fuzzy when it comes right down to it.
The Kojiki chooses to tell this story as a mistake by the sovereign, rather than taking another opportunity to highlight his cruelty.
This story about the boar, by the way, appears to be one of the enduring images of Wakatake, and many of the later depictions of him show him killing the boar, as in the Nihon Shoki tale, almost as a way to know that it is him. So that is at least how he was known by the 19th century.
There is another tale that goes along with this—a bit more fantastical, and depending on the source it either happened just before or just after the incident with the boar, and that was when Wakatake met a god and his retinue.
It went something like this:
One day, Wakatake and his retinue went forth to go hunting game with bow and arrow on the slopes of Mt. Katsuraki. All of his attendants were wearing a formal hunting outfit—presumably over their regular clothing—that was dyed blue with red cords attached. As they were ascending the mountain, Wakatake and his retinue suddenly saw another group out with them. This was also a retinue of hunters, dressed in the exact same way as the members of the Yamato court. In fact, they were dressed so similarly we are told that you could not actually tell them apart.
This was a problem because apparently the dress of Wakatake and his retinue were meant to indicate that they were members of the court out with the sovereign of the land, so who were these supposed imposters?
When Wakatake asked this of the dopplegangers, claiming that there was only one ruler in the land of Yamato, he received back only an echo of his own question back from the other group.
Well, as we’ve seen, Wakatake wasn’t one to play games, and he started to get upset, so he had his men fix their arrows—at which point their dopplegangers did exactly the same.
Wakatake, not backing down, demanded that the other group say their names. After that, he would announce his name, and that of his retinue, and then the shooting would commence.
This time the reply that came back was not a mimic of his question, but a name from the one who was in charge. In form he looked like Wakatake, but when he spoke he said his name was Hitokotonushi no Ohokami of Kazuraki—the Great god of Katsuraki, Hitokotonushi—the One Word Master, which, as much as that sounds like One Punch Man, apparently referred to the deity would could induce good fortune with one word or bad fortune with another.
At that point, Wakatake realized he wasn’t dealing with any old mortal imposter, but instead with a visible kami—that is a local spirit in corporeal form. This put the literal fear of god into Wakatake, and he quickly changed tactics. He had his men put down their weapons, and he took off his own sword and bow and offered it to Hitokotonushi. He had his attendants take off the outer hunting garments they had—those blue garments with red cords—and he offered those up as well.
After this act of obeisance, god and his retinue decided to join Wakatake and his crew in their hunt. One presumes that they allowed them their bows and arrows again, as the they continued, Wakatake and Hitokoto Nushi galloping together, bit to bit. When they came upon a deer, they each deferred to the other, to let them take the shot, and they each used respectful language with each other—something that a sovereign would likely have had little reason to do in most circumstances.
As night fell, the hunt came to a close, and the kami accompanied Wakatake to the Water of Kume, at the entrance to Mt. Hatsuse, at which point the people observed Wakatake and the kami together and remarked on how Wakatake must be a sovereign of “great virtue”.
Of course, this is hardly an “historical” account—somehow I don’t think that there were actually “visible kami” wandering around and greeting people, and, if there were, I’ll leave that to more of a spiritual and religious podcast to discuss. And yet this account is one of the few that show up in both the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, though with slightly different flavors. The introduction, given here, between Wakatake and Hitokoto Nushi is largely taken from the Kojiki, including the colors of the attendants’ garments, the exchange between the two parties, etc. In the Nihon Shoki they are less descriptive of the actual meeting, claiming only that Wakatake recognized the kami for what he was and having Wakatake give his name first. It is also the Nihon Shoki, oddly enough, that goes more into details of the apparent camaraderie between the two, while the Kojiki seems to imply more of a supplicant attitude. This may have something to do with the overall treatment that each work gives Wakatake.
In both instances—but most explicitly in the Nihon Shoki version—I would say this looks to me like they are attempting to clean up Wakatake’s image a bit. After all, being seen in the company of a god apparently can do wonders for your image.
And that makes me wonder if there isn’t some grain of truth to this. I’m not suggesting that Wakatake actually met a kami named Hitokoto Nushi on Mt. Katsuraki, and that they then went on to become best bros—though I think I just might be willing to binge watch that series on Netflix. Rather, I wonder if this story wasn’t some religious tie-in to help legitimize Wakatake’s rule, possibly in connection with the elites of Katsuraki. You might remember that Wakatake had previously taken the granaries of Katsuraki from Tsubura no Ohomi, along with Tsubura’s daughter, Kara Hime, and so he had clearly made ties with Katsuraki—though how the people there felt about him after he up and killed one of their most prestigious ministers is kind of difficult to ascertain. Still, perhaps he did put in the effort with Katsuraki and their own beliefs as a way of appeasing local sentiment—and perhaps more.
Or perhaps Hitokoto Nushi wasn’t a kami at all, but some local elite. The line between kami and human beings is more than a little bit blurred, after all. Perhaps there was some local lord that Wakatake needed to appease. I somewhat doubt this, however—Wakatake hardly seems like one to take the political option when violence could serve him just as well.
Of course, this is all just speculation. I do think it interesting how even the sovereign bows to the will of a kami, and this could provide some idea of the hierarchy in place. If there really are co-rulers, one in charge of more mundane and secular aspects of rule, it may be that even if that person were a warlord, there was still a certain amount of power that was available to those who were charged with communicating with the supernatural that even they would have a hard time touching. This suggests to me that it wasn’t enough to just be the best in terms of physical and military violence, but that having a connection to the kami was also an important factor in ancient Japanese society.
And, in fact, we’ve already seen this at work many times over in the Chronicles, but it is still interesting as we get into more and more verifiably historical territory to see just what stories and what role the kami are going to play directly—at least in the minds of the people of the time.
It is also good to note that interactions with the kami did not always go smoothly. The Nihon Shoki has another account, which it claims happened after Wakatake and Hitokoto Nushi reportedly became best bros.
According to the story, there was a man known as Chihisako Be no Muraji no Sukaru, who was remarkably strong. Wakatake, for whatever reason, desired to see the form of the deity of Mt. Mimoro—aka the holy Mt. Miwa. And so he sent Sukaru to go and seize the deity and bring him back.
Sukaru agreed to try, and so he climbed up Mt. Miwa and there he caught a large serpent, presuming that to be the form of the deity. He brought the snake back down to the court and presented it to the sovereign.
Turns out Wakatake had not prepared to meet a god—he had not practiced abstinence in the way that was required before performing religious exercises—and suddenly the thunder rolled and the serpent’s eyes lit up in flames.
This was Wakatake’s Ark of the Covenant moment, and he was afraid, covering his eyes, and refusing to look on the kami. He had Sukaru release the serpent back on the mountain and thereafter they referred to it as Ikadzuchi, aka Thunderbolt.
Once again we see kami—specifically the kami of Mt. Miwa—depicted as a serpent of some kind. This is a theme running through a lot of these early stories about the common forms that kami might take.
Also, we can see in this a much less complimentary interaction between Wakatake and the supernatural, which implies, to me anyway, that he wasn’t really seen as a major interlocuter with the kami and other supernatural forces. But then again, there are so many stories—some seemingly contradictory—that it can be difficult to tell what was the actual Wakatake like. Was this all just because he was a complex individual? Or did someone later try to tarnish or rehabilitate his image? Since all of this comes at us at once we can’t quite judge how the stories changed over time, just how it had come together by the early Nara period.
It is interesting that Mt. Miwa pops up again in the story of Wakatake, as previous reigns appear to have been more focused on the coastal areas of Naniwa—modern Oosaka. However, it shouldn’t be too surprising, as this sovereign’s activities seem to focus much more on the southern Nara basin, in general. In fact, we talked a little last episode about how the sovereign’s palace was supposedly in Asakura in the land of Hatsuse—aka Hase. This was an area in the valley east of modern Sakurai city, and Mt. Hase sits due east of Mt. Miwa, somewhat secluded from the rest of the Nara basin. It is an interesting location from which to run the affairs of the archipelago, and I have to wonder whether this was actually the court, or just where Wakatake had his base of operations. It does seem that it may have been relatively defensible, which may have been an asset given the nature of Wakatake’s own rule and his own tendency to resort to violence.
Various stories place Wakatake in Hase or its vicinity. On a somewhat minor note, there is a song that he makes about the mountains while visiting a small moor—“ono” in Japanese. This moor is now known to us—according to tradition—as the Michi no Ono, or the Small Moor of the Road.
In the Kojiki, they talk about how Wakatake was celebrating a state banquet in Hase, outside, under a luxuriant tree. There was an Uneme present who hailed from Mihe of the land of Ise. She was apparently in charge of the sovereign’s sake cup, and as she lifted up the great sake cup to present it to him a leaf from the tree above floated down and landed in the cup.
When the uneme offered the cup to Wakatake, he immediately noticed the leaf floating on the surface and grew incensed. He tossed the uneme to the ground and held her there as he drew his sword and placed it against her throat, clearly intending to kill her for the perceived insolence of offering him a cup of wine with a dirty leaf in it.
It is said that the uneme was able to compose a poem about the palace of Hishiro at Makimuku, the tree above them, and more, which moved the heart of the sovereign such that he pardoned her and spared her life.
The Kojiki then recounts two other songs—one by the Queen which spoke of Yamato and the Hall of First Fruits, and another, said to be by Wakatake himself, about the courtiers of the palace. In the end the Uneme was not only forgiven, but greatly rewarded—which sounds more like a payment for putting up with Wakatake’s violent mood swings.
The songs, by the way, appear to be official songs for state ritual, or at least that is what Phillipi theorized. Once again it is unclear if they actually were connected to the event described, or if that was just a convenient place to put it all.
Wakatake could truly be problematic, at times. It wasn’t just his temper that got him into trouble.
There was a carpenter, Mane of the Wina Be, who planed timber with his axe, using only a stone as a ruler. All day long he would do this, making the boards that would be made into so much else, and so skilled was he that he never made a mistake. Every board came out perfectly.
One day the sovereign was visiting and watched him at work. He asked Mane if he had ever made a mistake and struck the stone, which would likely have been bad for his blade, as well as the work he was doing. Mane replied, however, that no, he never made a mistake—a bit cocky, perhaps, but apparently his work spoke for itself.
Well Wakatake didn’t take kindly to Mane’s response, and felt that he needed to take the carpenter down a peg or two. And so he generated a bit of a distraction. He had two of his Uneme come down where Mane was working, strip off their clothing, and wrestle in plain view in nothing more than fundoshi—waistcloths used as underwear. It was pay-per-view soft-porn brought straight to Mane, and even the expert craftsman paused briefly in his work to look up at the spectacle. Then, however, he went back to his work—back to planning the boards.
Wakatake’s gambit had worked, however, and Mane was unable to shake the image of the two, and sure enough his mind wandered as he worked and he made a slight slip of his hand, striking the stone he was using and ruining the edge of his axe.
At this point I can imagine Wakatake jumping from his seat and immediately pointing out what had happened. Wakatake then rebuked Mane, and said that he had lied to the sovereign—after all, he said that he *never* struck the stone. And so he handed the carpenter over to the Mononobe for execution.
Mane’s fellow carpenters were aghast at what was transpiring. One of them cried out, lamenting his friend’s fate, and this reached the ear of Wakatake, who seems to have had a moment to calm down. Apparently the grief in the other carpenter’s voice was such that, at least for a moment, Wakatake was struck with an empathetic twinge of regret. He seems to have realized just what an ass he was being, since, after all, it was only through his efforts to distract Mane that he had slipped in the first place.
“How many men I have destroyed!” he cried out. Immediately sent a messenger on a black horse from Kai and he made him gallop all the way to the place of execution and deliver a pardon. The messenger arrived just in time, and the cords with which Mane had been tied were unbound, and he sang his own song, one of relief, which I think we can all understand:
“As the night / Black was the horse of Kai-- / Had they but saddled him, / My life were lost-- / Ah! That horse of Kai!”
This story is placed in 469—only three years before Wakatake’s death, and perhaps captures some measure of growth in Wakatake, as there are no further stories of him with such wanton and, frankly, manufactured cruelty. Perhaps, as sovereign, he did grow, such that he eventually came to realize and regret the harm that he had done to so many. Of course, it is all hard to tell, but I do like to think that these stories were at least placed in an order to suggest a growth of character as Wakatake aged.
And with that, I think we’ll call it good for this episode. There are still more stories—this is one of the longer chapters in the Nihon Shoki, even though the actual length of the reign is not excessive. This is likely just due to more records being available, though, as I mentioned before, It may also have been a well known reign and therefore a convenient dumping ground for anything that was thought to have occurred in the mid to late 5th century.
And, so, until next episode, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us on iTunes, Spotify, or 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 through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the link 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. We would love to hear from you and your ideas.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

— (2022). Inabe Jinja Website. http://www.inabe-jinjya.or.jp/index2.html. Last checked 3/31/2022
Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
Osawa, et al. (2008). ワカタケルの剣　「図説日本の古墳・古代遺跡―決定版 (歴史群像シリーズ)」pp 134. ISBN:978-4-05-605064-6.
Soumaré, Massimo (2007), Japan in Five Ancient Chinese Chronicles: Wo, the Land of Yamatai, and Queen Himiko. ISBN: 978-4-902075-22-9
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
Shichirō, M., & Miller, R. A. (1979). The Inariyama Tumulus Sword Inscription. Journal of Japanese Studies, 5(2), 405–438. https://doi.org/10.2307/132104
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

Ancient “Capitals”

Akitame’s family situation

Rough Transcript

References

Chikatsu Asuka (近津飛鳥)

Banzai (万歳) — not bonsai

Kyokusui no En (曲水宴)

Takami Musubi

Ki no Ohiha

Rough Transcript

References

Dramatis Personae

Oke and Woke

Iitoyo

Locations

Rough Transcript

References

Rough Transcript

References

Who’s Who

Ōhatsuse Wakatake

Iware Biko

Mimaki and Ikume Iribiko

Ō Tarashi Hiko and Yamato Takeru

Waka Tarashi HIko

Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko

Okinaga Tarashi Hime

Homuda Wake

Ōsazaki

Izaho Wake and Mizuha Wake

Oasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune

Anaho

Ichinohe

Shiraga

Katsuraki Lineage

Takuhata Hime

King Gaero of Baekje

Iketsu Hime

King Munju of Baekje

Konji

King Samgeun of Baekje

Hae Ku

King Modae

Ōtomo no Ōmuraji no Muroya

Heguri no Ōmi no Matori

Mononobe no Ōmuraji no Me

Ki no Woyumi

Yamato-Aya no Atahe no Tsuka

Kibi no Omi no Oshiro

Prince Hoshikawa and Kibi no Waka Hime

Rough Transcript

References

Wakatake and the Liu Song

Foreign Lineages

Immigrant Gods

Rough Transcript

References

Mononobe Family

Rough Transcript

References

On Hunting

Dramatis Personae

Ōhatsuse Wakatake no Ōkimi

Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune

Osaka no Naka tsu Hime

Kusaka no Hatahi Hime

Nakashi Hime

Mononobe

Ōtsu no Umakahi (大津馬飼)

Hi no Hime (日媛/日之媛)

Agoko no Sukune

Shishihito Be (宍人部)

Uda no Mito Be no Masakida, Takame

Saho no Kotori Wake

Fumu Be no Musa no Suguri no Ao

Hinokuma no Tamitsukashi no Hakatoko

Hitokoto Nushi

Chiisako Be no Muraji no Sukaru

Ikazuchi

(W)ina Be no Mane