Podcasts about Miwa

SistersのMiwaさんのインタビュー ニュースレター

Check out Carlos' shop! https://otamerch.shop/ Each week we aim to bring together the biggest events in Vtubing and talk about what's been going on. Stop by, hang out, and let's catch up with us! Join this discord : https://discord.gg/wFMcTGHWGJ Follow here for updates: https://twitter.com/SuperChatsPod Shorts over here: https://www.tiktok.com/@superchatspod 00:00:00 Intro 00:00:52 saba saba 00:05:35 Project Stim 00:08:31 Fight week? 00:11:09 Tokino Sora's New Outfit 00:13:52 Bae's Custom Fightstick Giveaway 00:19:20 Towa's Music Promo 00:21:04 Hololive Member's Only Merch 00:29:40 Mint's Reduced Activity 00:31:12 Shiina's Return 00:32:43 Henya's Anniversary 00:33:58 Price is Wrong 00:35:07 Alicja Temu (Coming Soon) 00:36:17 Calli Die for You 00:41:55 Suisei Beautiful Things 00:44:13 Okayu Rainy 00:45:19 Raden Rap 00:46:15 Botan Simulacrum 00:46:55 Price is Wrong Part 2 00:49:44 Nerissa The Boy is Mine 00:51:32 Miori MEGA Country Roads 00:56:13 HoloWitch Moonlight Legend 00:57:43 Takane Lui Shanti 00:59:52 Luna Sil V President 01:02:40 Gigi x Ceci covers 01:04:00 Mint youfuu All Back 01:05:07 Towa covered Mumei 01:06:54 Price is Wrong Part 3 01:16:36 Breaking Dimensions News 01:21:03 Bae Played the PP Game (2 years ago) 01:22:35 Calli and GG played Ao Oni 01:24:52 Miwa's Donothon 01:26:27 Eonia 3D Maid Debuts 01:32:58 Holo Marches Session 4 01:36:59 Ala Update 01:40:19 Advent Played Jackbox 01:42:25 GX Aura's MEGA REPO Collab 01:45:46 Dizzy's New Outfit 01:55:25 Community and Shilling

Check out Carlos' shop! https://otamerch.shop/ Each week we aim to bring together the biggest events in Vtubing and talk about what's been going on. Stop by, hang out, and let's catch up with us! Join this discord : https://discord.gg/wFMcTGHWGJ Follow here for updates: https://twitter.com/SuperChatsPod Shorts over here: https://www.tiktok.com/@superchatspod 00:00:00 Intro 00:03:32 EnReco Chapter 2 00:38:14 ASMR Relay 00:57:09 Miwa's Donothon 00:59:05 Kai Saikota Outfit 00:59:42 Breaking Dimensions Merch 01:01:54 Ashton Marten Plush 01:02:29 Virtual Vacation concert 01:04:42 Bad News Corner 01:07:49 Aki Rosenthall 1m subscribers 01:08:40 Ina is Chuuni 01:12:49 HoloTempus Fancy Lads 01:15:54 Sakuna maid outfit 01:17:43 Group Anniversaries 01:19:48 Pina Pengin's Surprise 01:22:15 Dokibird Marvel Rivals 01:23:49 Childhood rambling 01:29:08 Ookami Mio Dandelion 01:29:58 Dizzy Dokuro Dizzy Dizzy Coffee Song 01:31:19 Nerissa and Liz Revolution 01:32:58 Flow Glow Heaven's Drive 01:34:39 Holo Tempus One Night 01:36:29 Alicja End of a Life 01:38:21 Clara Mary on a Cross 01:41:10 Eva's Magnetic 01:45:04 Mercy Showed Off Her Plushies 01:50:39 Sleepy played Shotgun Mario 01:53:19 Community and Shilling 02:00:40 Birfdays

Our beloved Irwindale Speedway had its last event and closed its gates for good in December of 2024.  It was a very important place for many people's careers and passions, and it was especially important for the sport of drifting in the USA.In this episode, we provide some history about the track, and we share some details about the sale that lead to its closing.  We also interview several notable people, each with different perspectives, about the closing of the infamous House of Drift.Interviews:Teddy Phu-Thanh-Danh - Founder of drift team Auto Factory Realize, was there for opening night of Irwindale Speedway in 1999, and champion of early 2000s Japanese style drift cars. https://www.youtube.com/@AutoFactoryREALIZEDaijiro Yoshihara - Formula D Champion from Japan, had many memorable battles at Irwindale Speedway, and considers Irwindale Speedway his home track https://www.youtube.com/@DaiYoshiharaKenshiro Gushi - Drifting OG from the San Gabriel Valley and Formula D veteran who had his first sanctioned drift event experience at Irwindale Speedway https://www.youtube.com/@KenGushiMotorsportsMoto Miwa - Founder of Club4AG and Co-Founder of Drift Association, who hosted the first sanctioned drift event at Irwindale Speedway in 2002 and provided track support for D1GP and Formula DriftSabine Hsu - Benson and Nadine's daughter, who saw drifting in person for the first time at Irwindale SpeedwayDoug Stokes - VP of Communications at Irwindale Speedway for 20 years, involved in the planning and construction of Irwindale SpeedwayManabu Orido - Drifting legend from Japan, former D1GP judge, former D1GP competitor, JGTC/Super GT/Super Taikyu ChampionVaughn Gittin Jr. - Multiple time Formula D champion, winner of the D1GP USA vs Japan competition in 2005 at Irwindale Speedway https://www.youtube.com/@VaughnGittinJrBe on the lookout in the following days, as we release longer longer length interviews for some of our guests!00:00:45 Episode Start00:07:10 History of Irwindale Speedway00:11:07 Details on Irwindale Speedway being sold00:17:06 Teddy Phu-Tanh-Danh interview00:23:26 Staff's favorite memories at Irwindale Speedway00:31:25 Daijiro Yoshihara Irwindale Speedway00:37:16 Staff's feeling about Irwindale Speedway closing00:41:14 Ken Gushi interview00:49:09 Moto Miwa interview00:58:00 Sabine Hsu shares her memories01:01:10 Doug Stokes interview01:14:19 Manabu Orido interview01:17:36 Vaughn Gittin Jr. interview01:20:35 Callista Hsu's essay01:22:40 Benson's closing thoughts01:25:00 We will be releasing full length interviews#driftinghistory #drifting #driftingpodcast #podcast #irwindale #irwindalespeedway #tribute #d1gp #d1grandprix #formulad #formuladrift #drift

Soixante-et-unième numéro du podcast Pourquoi Buffy c'est génial. Podcast complètement exceptionnel avec Sarthman, Riley, Malaurie, et Xavier à la technique ainsi qu'un invitée incroyable : Nabla Leviste ! (www.facebook.com/nabla.leviste/) Nous analysons ensemble le sexième épisode de la troisième saison : Doppelgangland (Les deux visages)Écrit et réalisé par Joss Whedon il fut diffusé pour la première fois le 23 février 1999.Nous vous proposons de revivre avec nous cet épisode sous forme de commentaires audio un peu particuliers dans lesquels nous tenterons d'analyser l'écriture, les personnages, la réalisation… Tout ce qui fait de Buffy une série si particulière et tellement sous estimée en France. A travers Doppelgangland, nous aborderons la dualité, les doubles, l'affirmation de soi, la magie, la mise en scène, Willow...Toutes les infos du podcast ici : pourquoibuffycestgenial.wordpress.com, discord.gg/feWftHmNous parlerons également :de cascades : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FCX6c6nLa0E. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ex9_pANdH4Ide théâtre d'improvisationde Kung Fu Panda (https://youtu.be/PXi3Mv6KMzY?si=FUbSO_yu95rWbcAL)du jeu vidéo Immortality (https://youtu.be/d8NHtOIz6fU?si=_xVq6VHb2p--t9ni)et du savon Buffy contre les peaux mortes ! (https://www.lush.com/fr/fr/p/buffy-body-butter)Des gros bisous à Miwa creation (https://miwa-creation.sumupstore.com/), Poppins, shapour59, alex b, aelin, charlene, charly, la famille polonaise de Nabla et Tout Cracovie, Camille, les fans de Buffy croisés à la convention Geek N cheese et moonyhill.Bon épisode.

Our hosts, Sebastien Lemoine and Frank Walter made their way west to the little spot in Hachioji called Sake Dozo Kitchen. (Which is why the audio sounds a bit funky at times, apologies!) Started in February 2024 by fellow sake lovers David Cheek and Miwa Wag, the second floor restaurant is a delightful place to find your own sake language. The conversation winds through Dave's and Miwa's personal sake histories and what prompted them to open up their own kind of sake restaurant in Hachioji. We also talked about sake tasting competitions, judging sake, and how to find your own way to describe the flavor of sake and how it makes you feel. How do you describe the sake you like? Let us know, we'd love to hear from you! Let us know at questions@sakeonair.com or send us a message on our Instagram, Facebook, or Substack! In other news, we have a newsletter! Subscribe here: https://sakeonair.substack.com/ We'll be back very soon with plenty more Sake On Air. Until then, kampai! Sake On Air is made possible with the generous support of the Japan Sake & Shochu Makers Association and is broadcast from the Japan Sake & Shochu Information Center in Tokyo. Sake on Air was created by Potts K Productions and is produced by Export Japan. Our theme, “Younger Today Than Tomorrow” was composed by forSomethingNew for Sake On Air. 

In part one of our conversation me and Miwa Line Løtveit digs into the levels of self expression.    Aliveness.  Being true to yourself.  Being aligned in truth.  How to engage with people we are attracted to.  Grounded in our truth.  Magnetize the people who are attracted by us.  Ressonating energy.  Our intuition knows.  Not performing and pretending to be something we are not. What is really honest.  What is going on on the inside. The feeling of losing control.  Getting paralyzed by failure.  Feeling blank in situations where we really want to perform.  Taking up space.  Going after what we want.  Feeling into the triggers and fears and cutting the bullshit, doing even when it¨s scary.  Standing in our power when we put someone on a pedestal.  Talking to and relaxing around people we are intimidated by.  RBDSM-AT talks. Cutting the mystery. Taking away the drama and fun.  Changing how we look at sexuality.  How is that, how to meet ourselves and the world in that situation and how to move past what is keeping us from doing what we want and showing up as we truly are.  Miwa has herself gone deep into the world of self expression and facilitate dance, breathwork, drawing, tantric and similar kinds of workshops.  She, as me, comes from a totally normal job, education and life. Which she figured made her unhappy and unfulfilled.    Check out some of her work; https://www.authentic-expression.com/  Regular Morning Beats in Oslo: https://www.morningbeat.no/  www.youtube.com/@miwa.intuitive.living   Music: The beautiful song "Holy Hubris" by my talented friend Lennart Hansen: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5gHzTp8pUzQH8ASPrlFzJv?si=9TJZ_-miTa61jwplSCKKeQ    I am Therese Fallentin and this is The Gutfeeling podcast.  You can read about me and my services at https://www.empowermentdynamics.no/  and about me and the Podcast at https://magefolelsen.com/hjem  Magefølelsen aka The Gut Feeling is also in video format at YouTube at  @TheGutFeeling_Therese  https://youtu.be/ZVQmHSvX394?si=azV-UKxdvBsvRZxC  and on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/magefoelelsen.podcast/    Make yourself a glorious day ya all.

Me and Miwa Line Løtveit digs into the levels of self expression and there, straight on, we fuck up our audio and I am sent into a trigger of fear of failure.  So, on live podcast, we dive into the rhelm of the triggered landscape.  How is that, how to meet ourselves and the world in that situation and how to move past what is keeping us from doing what we want and showing up as we truly are.  Miwa has herself gone deep into the world of self expression and facilitate dance, breathwork, drawing, tantric and similar kinds of workshops.  She, as me, comes from a totally normal job, education and life. Which she figured made her unhappy and unfulfilled.    Check out some of her work; https://www.authentic-expression.com/  Regular Morning Beats in Oslo: https://www.morningbeat.no/  www.youtube.com/@miwa.intuitive.living   Music: The beautiful song "Holy Hubris" by my talented friend Lennart Hansen: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5gHzTp8pUzQH8ASPrlFzJv?si=9TJZ_-miTa61jwplSCKKeQ    I am Therese Fallentin and this is The Gutfeeling podcast.  You can read about me and my services at https://www.empowermentdynamics.no/  and about me and the Podcast at https://magefolelsen.com/hjem  Magefølelsen aka The Gut Feeling is also in video format at YouTube at  @TheGutFeeling_Therese  https://youtu.be/ZVQmHSvX394?si=azV-UKxdvBsvRZxC  and on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/magefoelelsen.podcast/    Make yourself a glorious day ya all.  

Miwa er min gode venn og samarbeidspartner. En kvinne jeg beundrer for sin egenhet og sitt mot til å virkelig følge sin egen vei. Vi snakker om vårt vennskap og om livet i lys av sannhetspresisjon. 

This episode was recorded in Oslo, Norway, in conversation with the founder of sustainable fashion brand “As We Are Now” or AWAN, Anette Miwa Dimmen. AWAN is a modular fashion brand designed for women, by women. Born in Seoul and raised in Norway, Anette's journey is anything but conventional. From chasing dreams of becoming a music star in London to launching groundbreaking businesses in Norway, her entrepreneurial spirit has never wavered. Today, with sustainability and inclusivity at the heart of her mission, Anette is leading AWAN's international expansion, offering women a wardrobe designed for comfort, versatility, and confidence—no compromises.In this conversation, we talk about Anette's inspiring path, from navigating the challenges of scaling a direct-to-consumer brand to redefining fashion with a purpose-driven, community-first mindset. We also address the challenges of operating a fashion brand in a small country like Norway - which, for our Canadian listeners, will sound oddly familiar. Get ready for an honest, insightful conversation about resilience, innovation, and the power of creating fashion that lets women feel their best as they are now.This season of our podcast is brought to you by TD Canada Women in Enterprise. TD is proud to support women entrepreneurs and help them achieve success and growth through its program of educational workshops, financing and mentorship opportunities! Please find out how you can benefit from their support! Visit: TBIF: thebrandisfemale.com // TD Women in Enterprise: td.com/ca/en/business-banking/small-business/women-in-business // Follow us on Instagram: instagram.com/thebrandisfemale

Happy New Year!  This is our 2025 recap episode.  In this case, we actually are recapping a fair bit more than just the year, going over the previous evolution of the Yamato state up to the period of the Great Change, or Taika, which we covered this past year.  There's a lot more that we expect to get into this next year, and this will hopefully tee us up for what is to come. For more, including a full list of our previous references, check out: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-newyear2025   Rough Transcript Shinnen Akemashite!  Happy New Year and Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is the New Year's Recap episode for 2025! It's that time again:  we are going to look back at what happened in the episodes this year.  That was only episodes 101 to 117—we'll skip the travelogue episodes for the time being.  This covered the years of the early to mid-7th century, from roughly 613 to 659.  That is easily within the lifetime of a single individual, and yet a lot was going on. At the start of this year, we were at the height of Soga power. In 2023, we covered how back in 587, Soga no Umako had wrested power away from the powerful Mononobe clan, defeating Mononobe no Moriya.  As you may recall, the sovereign known to posterity as Jimmu Tennou was the descendant of the Heavenly Grandchild known as Ninigi no Mikoto, at least according to the Nihon Shoki.  The Mononobe clan claimed descent from none other than Nigi Hayahi, the Other Heavenly Grandchild, whose offspring were said to have been defeated by Jimmu. You may recall that scholars generally consider the story of Jimmu, and the nine sovereigns that immediately followed him, as almost certainly a later addition to the story of the royal lineage. So when did the story of Nigi no Hayahi's defeat enter the picture? And was its inclusion perhaps related to the defeat of the Mononobe by the Soga family?  A family that successfully intermarried with the Royal House, themselves, such that all later sovereigns would trace their ancestry back to the Soga house? Of course, under Soga dominance we saw the rise of figures like the Soga descended Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno.  During her reign, major reforms were carried out, Buddhism became fully established by the State, and ties with the continent were strengthened.  Politics would continue to be dominated by Soga, even after the death of Soga no Umako and Kashikiya Hime, with Soga no Emishi taking up the mantle of Prime Minister, working closely with his son, Soga no Iruka.  The Soga family was so entwined with the politics of rulership that the main rivals of the Soga were… the Soga.  That is to say different Soga-descended lineages, like that of the Prince Umayado, aka Prince Shotoku. Rather than supporting Umayado's son, Prince Yamashiro no Oe, Soga no Emishi backed another candidate to the throne, Prince Tamura.  , of the royal Okinaga lineage. Tamura came to power as Jomei Tenno, but there is little doubt that Soga no Emishi was the one in control. Later, when Tamura passed away in 641, Yamashiro no Oe continued to be passed over.  In fact, Soga no Emishi supported the ascension of Tamura's wife, Takara hime, over Yamashiro no Oe, and there is evidence that he supported a prince known as Furubito no Oe as the Crown Prince and eventual successor.  All of the evidence—which, to be honest, is rather biased—suggests that the Soga family were setting up a series of puppet rulers who would do their bidding, or at least be pliable to their suggestions. There must have been some pushback, though, especially when one considers how strong the cult of Prince Shotoku, aka Umayado, would eventually become.  One imagines that Prince Yamashiro was another pole around which those who opposed the Soga family could rally.  After all, he was the son of Crown Prince Umayado, and likely had just as much of a claim as Tamura and his children.  And so, to counter this threat, Soga no Emishi's son and successor, Soga no Iruka, took matters into his own hands. In a brazen display of the violence of court politics, Soga no Iruka had Yamashiro no Oe accused of plotting against the throne and took an army to arrest him—no doubt in the hope that the prince would resist.  Eventually they cornered Yamashiro and his family, who committed suicide rather than submit. This attack was likely targeted to take out the rival to the Soga family's preferred Crown Prince, Prince Furubito no Oe, but rather than quell any dissent, the move seems to have enflamed the passions of those who wanted to see an end to the Soga house.  Those passions took particular root in none other than Furubito no Oe's younger brother, Prince Naka no Oe.  Together with the support of his uncle, Prince Karu; the head of the Nakatomi house, Nakatomi no Kamatari; as well as another scion of the Soga house, Soga no Kuroyamada, Prince Naka no Oe staged a coup d'etat.  Using the death of Prince Yamashiro no Oe as an excuse, they engineered a plot to assassinate Soga no Iruka in court, in front of Naka no Oe's own mother, Takara Hime no Oho-kimi.  After Iruka's death, Naka no Oe and his supporters then took the fight to Soga no Emishi, who committed suicide and set his own house on fire in what came to be known as the Isshi Incident. This shocking assassination caused Takara hime to step down.  The Soga-backed Prince Furubito no Oe, rather than stepping up and taking the throne, retreated to a Buddhist temple and took holy orders, effectively retiring and theoretically taking himself out of court politics.  That left Prince Naka no Oe and his uncle, Prince Karu, as possible candidates. We are told that Prince Naka no Oe declined to take the throne himself, instead supporting his uncle, Prince Karu.  Prince Karu took the throne, and is known to us as Kotoku Tenno, today.  Prince Naka no Oe stepped up as the Crown Prince, and with the help of his co-conspirators, such as Nakatomi no Kamatari, Soga no Kurayamada, and others, they began a project to remake the Yamato government, using continental models—specifically the Sui and Tang courts, which were also influencing the governments of the Korean peninsula, such as those of Baekje and Silla. This is known as the Taika, or Great Change, era.    There had been previous movements to adopt some of the continental trends, but nothing to this extent, which culminated in a tremendous palace complex built in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka.  Governors were sent out to the east of the country. The old, decentralized system was being replaced by a centralized bureaucracy. And yet this wasn't entirely a smooth transition.  Early on there was a threat by supporters of the previous Crown Prince, Furubito no Oe.  He was killed to put down any possible revolt.  Later, Naka no Oe was hoodwinked into going after his own co-conspirator, Soga no Kurayamada, resulting in Kurayamada's death and the punishment of his entire family.  A few years later, Naka no Oe moved back to Asuka, taking most of the royal family and the court with him, abandoning the grand government complex that they had built in Naniwa for reasons that remain unclear. Shortly thereafter, Karu, aka Kotoku Tenno, passed away.  But rather than Naka no Oe taking the throne—or even Karu's son, Prince Arima—the throne went back to Naka no Oe's mother, Takara Hime.  This is the only case we have of a single sovereign reigning twice, and the Chroniclers gave her two separate regnal names—Kogyoku Tenno to refer to her first reign and Saimei Tenno to refer to her second. And this is the reign that we are going to start the new year with. Beyond what was going on on the archipelago, there was also plenty that we covered on the continent.  We started the year with the Sui dynasty having consolidated control and working to continue to expand their territory north, south, and west, while also connecting the economic areas of the Yangzi and Yellow rivers. Unfortunately, through their wars and public works projects they overextended themselves, and the dynasty fell, replaced, in 619, with the Tang dynasty.  The Tang continued to expand, taking control of important points on the Silk Road and becoming a hub of trade and commerce.  At the same time, they were contesting their borders with the Goguryeo, who, themselves, had come under the control of Yeon Gaesomun, an infamous noble and anti-Tang hard-liner, who had staged a coup, murdered the Goguryeo king and any who stood against him, and who had installed a puppet king on the throne.  It is little wonder that the Tang dynasty was courting Goguryeo's enemy, Silla, to pressure them from the other side.  This eventually kicked off the Tang-Goguryeo war, with the loosely allied Tang and Silla fighting on and off with Goguryeo and their ally, Baekje, who was also invested in stifling Silla's ambitions on the peninsula. So that's where we are:  The Korean peninsula is currently embroiled in conflict between the three kingdoms on the peninsula and the nearby superpower, the Tang Dynasty.  Meanwhile, Yamato, on the archipelago, is going through a whole… thing.  What that is, we'll try to get into over the next year. Given all of this, let's go over some of the themes from the past year.  To start with, let's talk about expanding Yamato influence. From what we can tell, Yamato's influence in the archipelago had peaked around the 5th century, between the creation of giant Daisen Ryo kofun and the reign of Wakatake no Ohokimi, aka Yuryaku Tenno.  Wakatake no Ohokimi had courtiers from as far away as Kyushu and the Kanto plain.  However, from what I can tell, Yamato's influence appears to have temporarily waned, possibly coinciding with the end of Wakatake's own dynasty, with a new dynasty coming to power in the 6th century. It is possible that Wakatake was simply never quite as powerful as the Chronicles make out, but there are a few other things that make me think that the end of the 5th and early half of the 6th century were a low point in Yamato's power.  For one thing, we see a drop off in interactions with the continent after 479—or at least anything beyond the tip of the Korean peninsula.  In addition, we see smaller rooms built in the region of the Nara Basin and the Kawachi plain, while more “royal” tombs continue to appear elsewhere in the archipelago.  It isn't that they stopped, but the size decreased, suggesting that Yamato didn't have the same labor pool it used to. On top of that, we have the dynastic change.  We are told that the line related to Wakatake died out and they had to bring in someone from Afumi and Koshi, who traced their lineage back to the legendary Homuda-wake, aka Ōjin tennō, some five generations back.  Many scholars suggest that this connection was a later merging of the lineages, suggesting that, in reality, an entirely new branch of sovereigns had come to power. Finally, we can see the Chronicles focusing more and more on the areas near to Yamato, the area known as the Home Provinces, possibly because Yamato only held direct control over these areas, while control beyond that was only nominal.  Local elites in those regions had a lot of autonomy, and if Yamato did not have anything in particular to offer them, they would not have a reason to necessarily go along with Yamato's requests. This may have even been part of the impetus for the so-called “rebellion” by Iwai, in Kyushu.  As you may recall, in the early 6th century Iwai attempted to ally with Silla against Yamato and Baekje, with the idea of cutting off Yamato's access to the continent.  This ultimately failed, and Yamato ended up creating what would become the Dazaifu near modern Fukuoka, but the fact that Iwai could contemplate it and gather such support would suggest that Yamato was at least perceived as vulnerable. Now up to this point, we see several different policies that were used for increasing the court's control.  Early on, this was done by doling out various elite goods.  We also see Yamato soft power in the form of spiritual authority and the expansion of local Yamato cultic practices out into the other lands of the archipelago.  There was also the tradition of monumental tombs, and especially the royal keyhole style tombs, which spread out from Yamato and was likely as much an indication that those regions saw Yamato practices as worthy of emulation, at the least, and perhaps saw Yamato as a cultural nexus on the archipelago. To all of this, they eventually added the “Be” system.  This appears to have been copied from systems being used on the Korean peninsula, and it focused on creating familial units to organize various industries, with family heads responsible for reporting and funneling necessary goods up to the court.  This eventually included the noble “uji” clans, with their power bases in various geographic regions. Yamato extended its influence through a variety of methods, including various public works projects.  These included things like the building of ponds, or reservoirs, which would have been critical to the wet-rice paddy agriculture that was the economic backbone of the Yamato government.  Another means of extending government control was the “miyake”, or Royal Granaries.  Originally we see these set up in the Nara basin, but during the current dynasty they had been extended all the way out to Kyushu. Ostensibly, they were there to collect rice for taxes, but they appear to have acted as government offices, providing a presence for Yamato even out in the hinterlands.  Eventually they would turn the area in Kyushu, the Dazai, into its own, semi-autonomous extension of the Yamato government, as well. In the past year of the podcast, we've seen many of those older forms of government control replaced with a new bureaucratic system.  This included an upgrade to the rank system, which was a way for the government to both organize the bureaucracy while also creating a means to award individuals.  Early rank systems had initially been granted at the family level, but following a continental model meant that the new system was based solely on the individual.  Thus they could hand out rank to various kings and chieftains across the archipelago and entice them into the Yamato orbit, a trick they had been doing previously as well with various types of recognition.  Those that took the titles and rank that Yamato handed out gained a certain amount of legitimacy, locally, but since that legitimacy was tied to the Yamato court, it also helped solidify Yamato's own influence on those areas. That doesn't mean that all expansion was peaceful.  Yamato contested on their eastern and northern border with the people referred to as the Emishi, which eventually included contests as far north as the island of Hokkaido with the Mishihase people. There was another form of soft power used by the court in the way that it supported Buddhism, which was still a new religion at this point, having arrived in the early part of the 6th century.  Patronage of Buddhism would lead to the building of temples and otherwise claiming some authority in the spiritual realm, beyond simply the court's control of the Mt. Miwa site.  Furthermore, the state itself took particular interest in Buddhist institutions, and cracked down heavily on the clergy, ensuring that they reported up to the court, formally solidifying the connection between temples and the State. But then they went a bit further and instituted actual governors.  They were appointed by the Yamato government, and they were particularly installed in the Eastern lands—referred to as provinces.  These governors reported to the court, and appear to have initially been separate from locally recognized elites, who were known as the Kuni no Miyatsuko.  The governors were to take stock of the areas under their authority and report up information such as a summary of the lands and local census information.  This meant that Yamato did not need to rely on local elites to administer an area, they would have greater insight into what was actually going on. This was all combined with the institution of new laws on taxes, corvee labor, and more, while eliminating traditional practices such as the Miyake and even royal tomb-building.  The latter was likely affected by the various public works projects, but also the fact that more work was going into the building of things like Buddhist temples. As we noted back in the previous year, Buddhist temple building appears to have had a hand in the end of the prolific kofun building, at least in Yamato proper.  Kofun were memorials—meant to carry on the memory of an individuals well after their death.  They were ritual sites, and families were set up to care for them. Temples, likewise, were erected with certain memorial qualities.  Donating to build a temple was thought to increase one's karma, and thus do wonders for your next life.  Temple patrons would be remembered, and services were carried out, but temples also had a certain public aspect to them, as well.  On top of that, they were new, and no doubt exotic, with their tiled rooves, intricate carvings, and colorful buildings.  Much of the labor that would have built tombs appears to have been co-opted, instead, to build temples. Some of the temples founded in this period include Asuka dera, aka Hokoji, built on or near the Soga family compound, as well as other Asuka temples, such as Yamadadera, Kawaradera, Toyouradera, and Kudaradera.  There was also Houryuji, erected by Prince Umayado near his house, and the ancient temple of Shitennouji, erected in Naniwa.  Of these, both Horyuji and Shitennoji continue, today, at or near their original with some of the oldest extant buildings in Japan.  Asukadera was moved to its modern site of Gangoji, in Nara city proper, but there is still a smaller Asukadera on the original site, with what may be one of the original images, though the buildings have been rebuilt after numerous fires and disasters over the years. Of course, a big part of all of these foreign ideas, such as Buddhism but also Confucian thought as well, was the growing influence of the continent, whether in the form of Baekje, Silla, Goguryeo, or beyond.  While there had been influence ever since the Yayoi period—and arguably even during the Jomon, in some instances—there seems to have been an acceleration once Yamato began to import Buddhism, which was likely connected with all of the learning and texts that were also being imported around that time.  Then, during the Sui and Tang dynasties—both of which the Chronicles simply label as the “Great Tang”—the court sent several embassies to the Sui and Tang emperors, bringing back individuals with actual experience in the way things were happening outside of the archipelago. And we should not discount the various embassies to and from the Korean peninsula.  Yamato was increasing its involvement in peninsular affairs.  They continued to be concerned with the state of Nimna, also known as Imna or Mimana, which had been assimilated by Silla, along with the rest of Gaya, or Kara, by the early to mid-6th century, with many accounts dealing with attempts to reinstate Nimna as a separate and sovereign entity. Along with this, Yamato continued their relationship with Baekje, who sent Prince Pung to reside at the Yamato court.  This continued a long-standing tradition that is portrayed as a type of diplomatic hostage, though there have been several times that princes at the Yamato court came back to Baekje to rule after the king died or was killed.  All of this to say that not only did ambassadors from Yamato go to these countries, but ambassadors also traveled to Yamato, while various immigrants from these areas of Baekje, Silla, and even Goguryeo occasionally settled in Yamato.  This further increased the number of individuals with knowledge and experience of continental concepts and technology, and we can see their influence in numerous different ways. This was all part of what led to the Yamato government's adoption of Tang style law codes, though it should be noted that the law codes were not taken wholecloth.  Rather, they were adapted specifically to the issues of the archipelago.  This was the beginning of what came to be known as the Ritsuryo system, literally the system of laws and punishments. Under this system, the government went from a single Oho-omi, or great minister, to two Great ministers, one of the left and one of the right.  These would come to be known as the Sadaijin and the Udaijin.  Nakatomi no Kamatari was afforded a special place as the third minister, the minister of the center, or Naidaijin, possibly referring to his responsibilities with the interior of the royal household, while the ministers of the left and right would have had particular ministries beneath them - eight ministries in total, with various departments underneath them.  They would be assigned to report either to the Minister of the Left or the Minister of the Right, each one overseeing, effectively, half of the government portfolio. This system, combined with the governors and the Tomo no Miyatsuko in the provinces, meant that Yamato had much more granular control over the workers and the means of production.  They organized households into villages, and villages into districts.  There were lower level officials who reported up the chain all the way to the great ministers, the Daijin, or Oho-omi.  This meant that they effectively abolished the Be and Uji system, at least as it had been set up.  These familial groups continued to operate as families, or perhaps more appropriately as “clans”, given how the groups had come to be. These officials were granted rank and, more importantly, stipends from the government.  A portion of taxes, which were paid in rice, went to various officials.  This meant that officials not only relied on the government for their status, but for their incomes as well. This went along with an attempt to implement something known as the “equal field system”, imported, again, from the continent.  This determined who would work what fields, and was another way that the government was involved down to the actual labor producing the rice that was the economic engine of the State. And that covers most of what we've been up to this past year.  There have been individual accomplishments that we didn't get into, but there is plenty there if you want to listen to it. So that covers the past year in the podcast—a little over half of the 7th century.  It really was a time of dramatic change—whether or not “Taika” was the name given to part of it, it certainly feels appropriate.  Even though the court eventually moved to Naniwa, this is the height of the Asuka period, and the start of the Ritsuryo state.  It would form the foundations for what was to come, and themes from this period will continue to show up again and again. In this next year, we are going to continue to look at Takara Hime's reign and beyond.  We'll see the resolution of the Tang-Goguryeo war, and the impact of all the continental fighting on the archipelago.  We'll also see continued developments within the archipelago itself, hopefully getting through to the end of the 7th century. We are actually reaching the end of the material in the Nihon Shoki.  This does not mean that we are running out of material, though.  The Chronicles end in 697—less than 40 years out from our current place in the Chronicles.  From there, we have the Shoku Nihongi, which covers 95 years, until 797 CE.  Translation of much of the Shoku Nihongi is available through the work of Dr. Ross Bender, and you can find his work online if you want to get a leg up on the reading, though that is a ways out.  For now, we can still comfortably continue with the Nihon Shoki, at least through the reign of Temmu Tennou. Until then, Happy New Year!  As usual, thank you for listening and for all of your support.  Thanks also to my lovely wife, Ellen, for her continued work at helping to edit these episodes! Remember, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to 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.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

Women's Table Tennis: Miwa Harimoto Reaches Last 8 of WTT Champions Frankfurt

So the year 649 was so bad that they went and changed the whole calendar to forget about it!  In 650 a white pheasant is brought to the court, and they sieze on that as a chance to rename the era from Taika to Hakuchi.  That should make things better, right? This episode we talk about this event--their reasoning, as well as what is recorded as having happened.  We also take a look at the completion of the Ajifu no Miya and how it was renamed to the Naniwa no Toyosaki no Nagara no Miya, or the Toyosaki Nagara Palace of Naniwa.  This is thought to be what we know today as the Early Naniwa Palace, and it was a real change, and, in many ways, the physical manifestation of the Taika era reforms. For photos and more, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-113 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 113: The White Pheasant.   The officials of the court stood sentinel at the palace gates, a formidable line of authority draped in flowing, vibrant robes that signified their rank. Each step down the line revealed a cascade of colors, a living tapestry of power and prestige. Only the envoys from distant shores stood apart, their unique uniforms adding an exotic flair to the proceedings, as well as a certain legitimacy as outside witnesses.   The air crackled with anticipation as the crowd waited, their breath held, until four figures emerged, bearing aloft a magnificent litter adorned with intricate decorations that shimmered as they caught the sun's rays.   Upon that litter rested a cage, and within it,a dazzling white pheasant, plucked from the untamed wilds of Anato. Whispers rippled through the throng; some questioned the significance of this fragile creature, while others dared to see it as a divine omen. Was this bird as pure as the tales had promised? The capital had buzzed with rumors ever since its unexpected arrival, and those in the back stretched their necks, desperate for a glimpse of this rare marvel.   The past year had cast a shadow over the Yamato court, leaving the air thick with uncertainty. Yet, this ethereal bird, shimmering with the promise of renewal, seemed to herald a shift—an opportunity for rebirth that everyone craved.  At the very least it was a much needed distraction from everything that had previously occurred.   As the litter glided past, the courtiers bowed deeply in reverence, forming two disciplined lines that followed through the grand gates. Together, they marched into the palace, hearts pounding with hope. They were not just entering a building; they were stepping into a new era, one that, with a whisper of fate, could rise above the struggles of the past.     This episode we kick off the start of a new era—the Hakuchi era, or the era of the White Pheasant.  It followed the Taika era, and it does have a different feel.  It is less about new edicts and more about how things were shaking out and coming together.  And one of the things that was coming together was the Nagara no Toyosaki palace, which is believed to be the same one known to archaeologists as the “Early Naniwa Palace” unearthed in Ohosaka and dated to the mid-7th century.  We'll actually start with a look at this palace, continuing our discussion from last episode, as our sovereign, Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou, seems to have been a bit crazy about all of his palaces, and figuring out just which is which can be an issue in and of itself. We'll also touch on the start of this new era, and look at why and what it meant to come up with a new era name—a new “nengou”—in the middle of a reign like this.  And so we catch ourselves at the start of the year 650, still, technically, in the Taika era.  The year started well enough, with the sovereign celebrating the new year at the Ajifu palace and then coming straight back—the Ajifu palace was apparently yet another new palace and it seems construction had only recently begun.  Now, There is some confusion between the Ajifu palace and the Toyosaki palace.  The Ajifu palace is traditionally thought to have been located on the opposite side o f the Yodo river, in the area of modern Settsu city, on the site of what became the Ajifu Shrine.  Others have suggested that it was actually on the Kanimachi plateau, which is where the Toyosaki palace was.  Notably the “Toyosaki” palace is not located anywhere near the modern area of “Toyosaki” with which it seems to share a name.  From what little information we have, it seems to have been quite the complex.  As to why he would need yet another palace, I could not say.  And yet, later we see that the Ajifu Palace is eventually named the Nagara Toyosaki Palace.  So are they one and the same?  Did they move the Toyosaki Palace?  Or did they build the Toyosaki Palace and then *rebuild* it as the Ajifu Palace—aka the Nagara Toyosaki Palace? At this point the way that the Chronicles talk about it, the Ajifu palace site seems to have been almost purely conceptual, while previous accounts seem to indicate that the Toyosaki Palace was already in use.  That would have made for an interesting New Year's celebration, probably in temporary buildings erected quickly amongst the grass and fields, with some nearby tomb mounds that would need to be leveled or moved to make room, we are later told.  It seems they were still surveying the site, but I guess Karu really was looking for a change.  And so he celebrated the new year at the Ajifu palace, but quickly returned back to wherever the work of the government was actually occurring. As to where that was, well, we talked last episode about all of Karu's meanderings from one palace to the other.  The Nihon Shoki text itself is not exactly clear, as I read it.  It doesn't help that the term for palace, or “miya”, appears to refer to both a complex and a single residence, without a clear distinction given between the two.  And so, though I mentioned it last episode, let's recap what we know about the palaces this reign. So in 645, we are told that Karu decided upon Naniwa and we are told that this is the “Toyosaki” palace.  Then in 646, Karu took up residence in the “detached” palace of Koshiro in Sayabe, Naniwa.  This was likely him repurposing the Miyake, the government offices with the royal granaries.  He was only there for about two months, though, before he returned.  Then, in the third month of 646, he issues an amnesty claiming to have taken up residence in the new palace—but we aren't told which one. In 647, two years into the reign, the government offices at Wogohori are torn down and a palace was built there.  Now this is somewhat confusing because there appear to be two government districts:  Wogohori and Ohogohori.  You'll probably notice how similar these two sound, though it may have been more like “wogopori” and “opogopori”. Back in the day.  Wo-gohori, or the “Small District”, is mentioned once, but mainly just as a place name.  Ohogohori, or the “Big District” has previously shown up as the place with government offices for the envoys from overseas.   Confusing matters, in a later entry, Karu eventually moves out of the palace at Oho-gohori and into the palace that would be known as the Nagara Toyosaki palace.  So was he at Wogohori and then later at Ohogohori?  Or was there some scribal error such that the two got confused? And then in 648 we are told that Karu moved into the Toyosaki palace in Naniwa.  Two years later, in 650, and he is now celebrating New Year's at the Ajifu palace, which may refer to a location on the other side of the Yodo river, but is likely in the spot we now think of as the Nagara Toyosaki Palace.  We then know that in 651 they were still building a palace.  And it isn't until the last day of 651 that Karu would formally move from Ohogori into the Ajifu palace, which we are told was then renamed the Nagara no Toyosaki no Miya---the Nagara Toyosaki Palace. I have several thoughts on all of this.  One, is that there may have been two “Toyosaki” palaces—there was the Toyosaki palace that he first moved into, and then there is the Nagara Toyosaki Palace.  “Nagara” appears to mean something like “Long Handle”, but other than that, I don't know that there is a good translation.  It may refer to the fact that it was meant to last longer, or that it was even larger than the previous palace.  It may even be that the original Toyosaki Palace was just a few of the buildings, and that eventually it grew into the larger Nagara Toyosaki Palace, but if that is the case, what is up with term “Ajifu”?  Was that just one building in the larger palace?  Or are earlier mentions of “Toyosaki” anachronistic, and perhaps it wasn't until the entire thing was complete that they gave it that name?  Many modern accounts appear to conflate the Toyosaki palace with the Nagara no Toyosaki Palace, saying it just took that long to build.  That would imply that the Ajifu palace really was there on the Kamimachi plateau, at the known Naniwa palace site.  Alternatively, “Nagara” could possibly have been a reference to the fact that the Ajifu palace was an extension of the larger Toyosaki complex, possibly built out of the government offices of either Wogohori or Ohogohori. For all that we don't know exactly what was happening here, we have a pretty good idea in the archaeological record about at least one of the palace sites on the Kamimachi plateau.  This site has been identified as the Toyosaki palace of Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou, and it would actually be reused at a later date.  Sure enough, there are remains of at least two palace complexes on the site, with the one from our period known as the “Early Naniwa Palace” site. Based on its size and layout, this Early Naniwa palace was the first of its kind.  Previous palaces in Asuka had not dissimilar designs in terms of the general arrangement, but this clearly made use of the structure of continental style palace complexes, and was likely intended to be a new, permanent capital. The north of the palace complex consisted of a rectangular, walled section 185 meters east to west and 200 meters north to south, making up the “dairi”.  That's almost 10 acres of enclosed space, set aside as the sovereign's personal living quarters. South of that was a smaller area with the front hall, one of the largest for its time.  It was 36 meters east to west and 19 meters north to south.  This would have been the hall called the “Daigokuden” in later palaces, where official rituals would take place.  There was a gate between it and the Dairi, to the north, as well as a gate to the south, flanked by two octagonal buildings, which led to the Chodoin, the main working area of the court complex. This is part of what sets this palace apart from others, and why it likely took a while to build.  It may also explain all the different palace names as there was probably a lot of construction for a long time.  In previous instances, as far as we can tell, the sovereign's palace was both their home and the building where state business was conducted.  Think, perhaps, of the White House, in the US, and then imagine that the White House, the Capitol Building, and the Supreme Court were all part of the same compound, with only the barest of concessions to privacy between them.  In this new layout, the dairi was reserved to the sovereign, there was a small area for the official throne room, and then south of that was the Chodoin, the court hall complex. This was a huge change to how things had operated in the past.  While the main audience hall was still nominally part of the dairi, so the “private” areas of the palace weren't entirely “private”, it was still leaps and bounds more separated than in the previous palaces we've uncovered.  Sure, the idea of lining up buildings from the front gate to the larger buildings towards the back, making people approach successively larger and more impressive buildings, generally seems to have been a thing as far back as the Makimuku Palace near Mt. Miwa, back in the third century, but even then, there is no clearly defined separation between the public and private spaces of the sovereign.  There does seem to have been restrictions on who could enter what parts of the compound, with the sovereign's personal quarters being the most restricted, but now there were walls and gates and guards separating one area from another. The Chodoin itself, the main “business” or “public” area of the court, appears to have been about 262.8 meters north to south and 233.6 meters east to west—a little over 15 acres.  Most of that was open space between the 14 “choudou” halls lined up symmetrically, 7 on either side.  These were the individual buildings where the various government officials were to meet and conduct business, as well as conduct rituals, feasts, etc.  There was a southern gate that provided the entrance to the Chodoin and led to another large area with the Choshuden, the buildings where officials could change into and out of their formal court uniforms, and otherwise prepare for or close out the day.  South of that was the main gate for the entire compound, the Suzaku gate, named for Suzaku, the red bird of the south, one of the four directional guardian spirits. We know the buildings largely from their post holes.  They were made of wood, and it is likely that most of them were thatched.  They may have been painted white, vermillion, and green—classic paints that were based on continental styles and which were said to help prevent the wooden pillars from rotting too quickly.  It is unsurprising that this would have taken years—but it is also possible that they built some quarters for the sovereign and then built out from there.  This also would have been key to a lot of the governmental reforms, providing an actual location for the work that the reforms were directing. Of course, there was a lot of work to be done, and the halls in the palace were limited, so two areas to the east and west of the complex were set aside and appear to have been built up with other government offices, suitable for carrying out the day to day minutiae that was required. There is still a question of whether or not they also instituted the larger grid system city layout around the palace complex.  Currently we have no evidence for that, though perhaps they were considering it, eventually.  Unfortunately, with all of the construction in Osaka over time, I don't know if we could be able to find or discern such a layout if we did find it.  For now, we will stick with what we know:  an absolute unit of a court complex that took them several years to build. Getting back to the Chronicles: Our next entry in the Nihon Shoki, after the New Years celebration, tells us that in the second month, Kusakabe no Muraji no Shikofu, the governor of Anato Province, brought a white pheasant to the court.  The report claimed that it had been caught by Nihe, a relative of Obito, the Kuni no Miyatsuko of Anato, on the 9th day of the first month, on Mt. Wonoyama. For reference, the land of Anato was at the far western end of Honshu, part of the San'yodo, itself a designation for the lands along the Seto Inland Sea coast from Harima, modern Hyogo prefecture, out to Anato, modern Yamaguchi prefecture.  It was on the Honshu side of the Shimonoseki strait, which was the main entrance from the Korean Strait and the Japan Sea to the Seto Inland Sea.  The area would later be known as Nagato, which would eventually be called Choshu, an area which any students of the fall of the Tokugawa shogunate are sure to recognize. We discussed back in Episode 94 how white or albino animals—assuming they weren't normally white—were considered particularly auspicious.  So in 598, the land of Koshi sent a white deer they had found to the court of Kashikiya Hime, which is to say Suiko Tenno.  And so the white pheasant from Anato was clearly seen as an omen—but was it truly auspicious.  Here we see the court investigating this, and how exactly they go about that is somewhat enlightening as to how the court thought in general. First, they made inquiry of the lords of Baekje—I would suspect this referred to those recognized as Baekje nobility residing in the archipelago, rather than sending a correspondence to the peninsula and back.  That they went to someone from Baekje would seem to indicate the importance they placed on Baekje as a conduit for continental learning.  Indeed, the answer they got back—whether from a single, unnamed individual or a group of Baekje nobility—was that White Pheasants were recorded in the 11th year of Yongping, which would be 68 CE to us, during the reign of Ming of the later Han dynasty.  Han Mingdi, aka Emperor Ming of Han was born Liu Yang and also known as Liu Zhang, reigned from 57 to 75 CE.  Ming and his son, Emperor Zhang oversaw a period of particular prosperity for the Eastern Han dynasty.  On the other hand, there was an attempt to curse Emperor Ming in 67 CE, which ended with the death of the ambitious Prince Jing of Guanglin.  Then, in 70, Prince Ying of Chu was also convicted of using magic to try and secure blessings while he fomented revolution against the emperor, and he was exiled, where he committed suicide.  So I don't know if this marks the pheasant as particularly auspicious or not. Asking the Buddhist priests, who frequently studied not just Buddhist canon, but other continental texts, they mostly drew a blank—at least on the specifics of a white pheasant.  They did recommend that a general amnesty would not be amiss, as it would bring joy to the people.  I guess if you aren't sure about the nature of an omen you can certainly do something to help it out. And while they weren't specifically sure about a white pheasant in Buddhist scripture, a couple of priests did have suggestions. The Priest Doutou recounted a story from Goguryeo, when the court there wished to build a new Buddhist temple, but could not divine a suitable and auspicious site.  When someone witnessed a white deer, they chose that spot for the temple, which was then called the Temple of the Park of the White Deer.  According to Doutou, this temple established Buddhism in Goguryeo. Furthermore, he recounted, when a white sparrow was seen on the farmstead of another temple, or when a dead crow with three legs had been brought back from the Tang dynasty, the people had proclaimed both of these to be good omens.  So given all of that, Priest Doutou concluded, a white pheasant must be especially auspicious. The Priest Bin agreed.  Bin, you may recall, had been heavily relied upon for his knowledge in setting up the new governmental structure, which would seem to indicate that he was quite well-versed in continental ideas, and he had even traveled there himself.  He provided the court several different reasons that a white pheasant might appear. First, it might appear when a ruler extended his influence to all four quarters. Second, it might appear when the sovereign's sacrifices are appropriate, and when his banquets and clothing are in due measure. Third, it might appear when the sovereign cultivates frugality. Finally, it might appear when the sovereign was humane. He didn't provide any specific examples of how he arrived as his conclusions—at least nothing was recorded—and so he may have been relying on his own expertise.  However, he did recount one tale in particular.  It was a story from the time of Emperor Cheng Wang of the Zhou dynasty.  Cheng Wang is said to have reigned in the 11th century BCE, from 1042 to 1021, and so take that how you will.  Important to us is not what happened so much as what the Yamato court believed had happened—what was the historical truth that they were workin with at the time? According to Bin, during Cheng Wang's reign, the Yuehshang family brought a white pheasant to the court.  Apparently it had been three years without any exceptional storms or rains, and neither the rivers nor seas had flooded.  Apparently the old men found this an extremely long time to go without some kind of disaster, indicating that the pheasant was clearly an auspicious omen in deed. Priest Bin also mentioned other accounts, but the Chroniclers omitted them from the record. Whatever they were, the court had heard enough.  The White Pheasant was declared auspicious, and a new era was declared:  the Hakuchi, or White Pheasant, era.  They let the white pheasant loose in the royal garden, presumably with clipped wings or otherwise kept from flying off, and then preparations were made  immediately to officially inaugurate the new era 6 days later, on the 15th day of the 2nd month of 650. Before we get into that, though, I want to pause and take a look at something here:  The authority of precedent.  Time, as conceived of in the continental model, was cyclical.  There was the cycle of day and night.  The cycle of the year and the repeating seasons.  Likewise the planets and heavens all had their own cyclical periods.  In addition, there was the idea that the Yin and Yang forces in the universe likewise cycled through predictable patterns—the sexagenary cycle, or cycle of 60 years, being an example of a longer term cycle.  And then there was the Buddhist cycle or death and rebirth, at least as long as one remained tied to this mortal plane of existence. If time is cyclical, then one can look to the past to predict the present.   Stories of the past were seen as holding authority over similar events in the present.  Understanding these historical stories and being able to pull from them provided its own kind of power and authority.  Rather than attempting to reason from first principles, precedent was often a more convincing argument. Being able to read and write and recall all of these stories gave scholars the ability to influence events.  Of course, who had time to do all that other than people like Buddhist priests or the doctors of the court? This is also one of the reasons that people would have had to write down histories and, eventually, to keep diaries and accounts of what happened.  Those accounts would, over time, become essential records to invoke for moments like this—and even a record like the Nihon Shoki or the Kojiki would have similar significance.  In many ways, it is propaganda, but not just in how it describes the past as the Chroniclers wished it to be, but it set the precedent for succeeding eras to look back on.  While we may challenge that view, today, for many from the 8th century onward the events described in the Nihon Shoki were considered the gospel truth in more ways than one. Of course, all that aside, we've had plenty of auspicious events before, but why, now, would they be enough to trigger a new era?  Why not just note them and move on? Well, to start with, let's face it, nobody is likely to name 649 as the greatest year ever, any time soon, and certainly not the Yamato court.  The Crown Prince, Naka no Oe, had been tricked into thinking that his co-conspirator, Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro, was a traitor.  To be fair, Maro had been more than complicit in the murderous takedown of his own relatives to set up the current government, and history has time and again suggested that those who put someone on the throne can just as easily take them off it.  That's why they are often either brought deeper into the inner circle, or removed—either physically or more euphemistically.  In this case, though, it seems that fears of Naka no Oe and others were unjustified, and they sent the royal troops after an innocent man; or at least a man as innocent as any of the other elites at that time.  After all, the wealth of the elites came from the rice fields that they owned—or that were at least designated for their stipends—and they certainly weren't working those fields themselves, so make of that what you will. All of that had led to the death of Maro, his family, and the rest of his household.  That, in turn, led to the death of his daughter, Miyatsuko Hime, who was married to Naka no Oe himself.  When they finally did realize what had happened, the best justice they could figure out was to send the scandal-mongering Soga no Musa out to Tsukushi in a form of luxurious banishment.  Demotion by promotion, as he was made the Viceroy of Tsukushi, the top man of the court at the edge of the archipelago. To say that the year 649 had been a bust is an understatement.  Don't get me wrong, it was a far cry from the worst year that the archipelago had ever experienced—or would in the future, for that matter.  But that was scant comfort to the folks living in it. And so it was with some relief, I suspect, that the court welcomed news from the far flung land of Anato, because they really needed a distraction. With that in mind, let us move on to the events of the 15th day of the 2nd month of the year 650, describing how they inaugurated the new era.  Now, if the Chronicles are to be believed, this is not the first time they inaugurated a new era—we are told that year 645 was considered the first year of Taika, or Great Change.  But, assuming that did happen, and that it wasn't just named after the fact, the era would have started at the same time as a new reign.  Previously, from everything we can tell, dates were based regnal years.  Things are recorded as happening in the X year of Y sovereign.  Some of the oldest accounts seem to even note it more as X year of the sovereign who reigned from the Y palace, as the palace was likely more distinct a feature than the names and titles that they used, and the posthumous names, like “Koutoku Tennou” were not actually used until the end of the 7th or early 8th century. It is possible that Hakuchi is actually the first true nengo—or era name—and the first one that appears in the middle of a reign—though even here some say that the instantiation of “Hakuchi” is anachronistic. Personally, I see no harm in taking it at face value, at least for now, while acknowledging that everything in the Nihon Shoki is suspect.  Still, we are approaching a time when the events being written down may have still been in the living memory of people alive at that time.  720 is only 70 years away, and the project started even before then, so unless there are obvious discrepancies or supernatural events, we can probably assume that the Chronicles at this point are largely truthful, if possibly embellished. And so it is we are told of what happened.  To begin with, the court lined the ministers of the left and right and all of the functionaries in four lines outside the “purple” gate, as they would during a New Year's reception, like the one they had just had at the Ajifu palace.  The “Purple” gate was probably a reference to the southern gate The fact that the courtiers lined up at the south gate in the same way that they would have during a New Year's reception would seem to indicate that this was seen as the start of a new year.  It was no longer a Taika year—starting on that day it was now the first year of Hakuchi.  The month and day would not change, however, so it was still the 15th day of the 2nd month.  That means that technically the first year of Hakuchi would only have ten and a half months in the year—maybe eleven and a half, if there was an extranumerary month.  Likewise, the last year of Taika would only have one and a half months.  And if you are thinking that must make Japanese dates really tricky around the start or end of year, you don't know the half of it.  Sometimes events will get placed in the wrong “era” because they happened a few months before or after the change, and people forget that when they are translating to and from western dates.  It also means era names can't just give you the years of the era, but really need to give you the month and date it starts and ends.  Fortunately, most people are quite understanding about the occasional mistake.  But anyway, I digress. The courtiers were lined up as though for new years, and then they watched as Ahata no Omi no Ihimushi and three others bore a litter with the pheasant on it and went ahead through the gates.  The others followed in rank order—with the Ministers of the Left and Right leading the various functionaries.  The Baekje prince Pungjang and his uncle, Sesyeong Chyungseung, whom we mentioned back in Episodes 105 and 107, as well as Mochi, the physician to the King of Goguryeo, a scholar attached to the court of Silla, along with other important persons all advanced as well into the Central court of the palace. The pheasants litter was taken up by Mikuni no Kimi no Maro, Wina no Kimi no Takami, Miwa no Kimi no Mikaho, and Ki no Omi no Maro, who brought it to the front of the hall.  There, the ministers of the left and right then took the front of the litter, while the Prince of Ise, Mikuni no Kimi no Maro, and Kura no Omi no Woguso took hold of the rear.  Together, they placed it in front of the throne.  The sovereign, Kura, and the Crown Prince, Naka no Oe, examined the pheasant together. The Crown Prince then backed away, and the new Minister of the Left, Kose no Omi, presented a congratulatory address. He gave thanks to the sovereign and claimed that the pheasant was a sign that the sovereign would rule for one thousand autumns and ten thousand years across the Great Eight Islands—the Ohoyashima—of the archipelago and the four quarters of the earth.  Effectively, this is a long-winded version of “Banzai”, the congratulatory wish of ten thousand years of life for an emperor. Karu responded to this address by quoting auspicious times that white animals had been omens of good rule.  He then gave credit to the ministers and functionaries, and urged them to continue to provide good service.  Then he declared a general amnesty, forgiving various offenses, and noted that the era name would change to “Hakuchi”. Karu then directed presents to be handed out to the Ministers, the Daibu, the officials of lower rank, all the way down to the clerks.  Each received gifts commensurate with their rank.  Finally, Kusakabe no Muraji no Shikofu, the governor of Anato, was commended, and granted the rank of Daisen along with what we are told were a goodly number of presents.  In addition, the commuted taxes and corvees of Anato were remitted for three years, meaning that Anato would be allowed to keep all of the rice and product for themselves—something that was likely quite significant, though it is unclear whether this means that it was felt down at the level of basic workers or it just meant that the governor was able to keep what he taxed from the people for himself. And with that, we enter a new era.  Forget the unfortunate bloodshed and regrettable decisions of the previous year, this was a new start.  And that is often how these eras were seen.  Whether it was a new reign or things were just going so poorly that the court felt there needed to be a new start, future nengo would often follow a similar pattern.   And there was no set time for how long an era would last.  In fact, here's a little trivia for you:  The shortest nengo in Japanese history was “Ryakunin”, and it lasted just under two and a half months from late 1238 to the start of 1239.  It really shows how important it was to come up with a good name of these eras, as “ryakunin”, which seems to mean something like “humane period”, could also be written with characters meaning “abbreviated person”.  So they decided to abbreviate the era, instead, changing the era name again. This first year of the new era of Hakuchi continued relatively normally.  In the fourth month there were envoys from Silla—another source, according to the Nihon Shoki, claimed that Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla sent envoys every year from this reign onward.  Then, in the tenth month, we see more work being done on the palace—presumably the Ajifu palace.  We are told that presents were given out in respect to tombs that had been demolished to make room for the new construction, as well as for the people who had been moved off their land.  Then Aratawi no Atahe no Hirafu was sent to place the boundary posts, no doubt marking out the outer extremities of the new palace precincts. In addition, that month work began—no doubt at the court's direction—on a giant tapestry, or mandala, with a sixteen foot tall Buddha image, attendant Boddhisatvas, and figures of all eight classes of beings according to the Buddhist cosmology.  That includes Heavenly beings, such as Devas; dragons; demonic Yaksha, Gandharva, and Asura; the bird-like Garuda and Kimnara; and the snake-like Mahoraga.  All told, there were some 46 figures.  It doesn't seem to say where it was to be installed, though it may have been made for the new palace complex. Also in that year we are told that the court ordered Aya no Yamaguchi no Atahe no Ohoguchi to carve one thousand images of Buddha—but once again, we aren't told where they resided.  We do know that the 16 foot tall embroidered Buddha was completed in the 3rd month of 651: it had taken them approximately five months.  The day after they were completed, the Dowager Queen, Takara no Himemiko, aka the former sovereign, Kougyoku Tennou, who had stepped down in 645, invited ten Buddhist teachers and prepared a feast and entertainment, likely to bless and show off the completed images. At the end of 651, the palace itself was finally complete.  We are told that over 2100 priests were invited to the Ajifu palace to read the Issaikyo on  the last day of the year.  The Issaikyo is the entirety of the Buddhsit canon, and so this was probably done in the abbreviated tendoku style, with priests just reading the chapter headings and flipping through the sutras, though with 2100 it is possible they just each red a different portion, all at the same time.  As it grew dark, the palace courtyard was kept bright with 2700 lights while we are told that the Antaku and Dosoku sutras were read.  Aston notes that these “sutras” of Antaku and Dosoku don't appear to reference any actual sutras that we know of, and posits that they may simply be rituals for home safety and the like.  Given what we know about the fate of so many of these old wooden palaces, it makes sense. After the sutras were read, the sovereign, Karu, formally moved from his residence in Ohogohori into the new palace, which was called Naniwa no Nagara no Toyosaki no Miya.  As I noted at the beginning, it is unclear if this was the Ohogohori or Wogohori, and it is even somewhat murky as to whether or not it was considered a palace.  Not to mention that after the New Year's ceremonies were completed, the royal chariot—which would have been carrying the sovereign—went back to Ohogohori.  I guess things weren't quite ready yet.  He would return on the 9th day of the third month, and even then we don't see a note that the palace was completed until the 9th month of 652.. There is a lot here where we see things that appear to be scheduled so that they can occur on auspicious days, even if everything else isn't quite ready.  So, for example, reading the sutras and formally “moving” into the palace on the last day of the year so that one could host the New Year's celebration there the next day.  That seems like something that was done purely for ceremonial purposes.  You may recall that in 650 they did the same thing. There are a few more references to the palace.  On the 15th of the 4th month of 652, the Buddhist ascetic E'on was invited into the Dairi to explain the Muryouju Sutra, also known as the Sukhavati Vyuha sutra.  E'on was made a lecturer, and there were said to be 1,000 ascetics in the audience, listening to his teachings.  That apparently went on for five days, being discontinued on the 20th day.  And the power of the sutras, and E'on's teachings, is shown in the weather, because the Chronicles claim that large rains began to fall in a monsoon that lasted for nine days.  This wasn't a gentle “water your crops” kind of rain.  This was more like a “demolish your buildings and destroy your fields” kind of rain.  There must have been massive flooding as men, horses, and cattle were caught up in the water and drowned. Given the way this is written, I'm not entirely certain of the takeaway.  Were the sutras that powerful that they brought rain, and E'on didn't understand his own strength?  Or was it a punishment for stopping E'on from continuing his lecture?  Or was it the rains that caused the lectures to stop, perhaps making it untennable for people to sit out in the courtyard and listen as the rains came down?  My rational brain suspects the latter, but I'm not sure how it was read by the people of the 8th century. On the last day of 652, priests and nuns from around the country were invited to the dairi, to the interior of the palace, and entertained and given a feast.  Alms were given and lights kindled to celebrate the new year. But that's the last entry I really see for the palace, as such.  There was plenty more happening through the era, and we'll touch on that.  We start to see Silla and Tang dynasty getting chummy, and we also see some of the reforms still working their way across the land.  We also have Yamato's own expeditions out to the Great Tang dynasty.  But we'll save that for the next episode, as we continue to dive into the Hakuchi era. And so, until next time, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Here at Dokkyo Med. we're trying to motivate our students to be more active and productive by challenging them to make a podcast during lesson time. In this series called Specific Information, students formed groups and were asked to answer 4 questions within their group. In this podcast Mariko, Mai, Miwa and Reika take turns asking and answering the questions. We hope you enjoy their conversation.

On this episode of Below the Radar, we're joined by Miwa Matreyek, an animator, designer, performer and Assistant Professor in Theatre Production and Design at SFU's School for the Contemporary Arts. Am and Miwa discuss how she got into making interdisciplinary artwork and some of her recent projects that combine animation and live performance. Full episode details: https://www.sfu.ca/vancity-office-community-engagement/below-the-radar-podcast/episodes/252-miwa-matreyek.html Read the transcript: https://www.sfu.ca/vancity-office-community-engagement/below-the-radar-podcast/transcripts/252-miwa-matreyek.html Resources: Miwa Matreyek: https://miwamatreyek.com/ SFU Theatre Production and Design: https://www.sfu.ca/sca/programs/theatre-production---design.html Infinitely Yours: https://miwamatreyek.com/#/infinitelyyours/ Cloud Eye Control: https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/arts/la-et-cloud-eye13-2009oct13-story.html Bio: Miwa Matreyek is an animator, designer, and performer. Coming from a background in animation, Matreyek creates live, interdisciplinary performances that integrate projected animations at the intersection of cinematic and theatrical, fantastical and physical, and the hand-made and digital. Her work exists in a dreamlike visual space that makes invisible worlds visible, often weaving surreal and poetic narratives of conflict between humanity and nature as embodied performed experiences. She has presented her work internationally, including animation/film festivals, theater/performance festivals, art museums, science museums, tech conferences, and universities. A few past presenters include TED, MOMA, SFMOMA, New Frontier at Sundance Film Festival, PUSH festival, Lincoln Center, Walker Art Center, and many more. Her newest solo piece, Infinitely Yours, was awarded the grand prize for Prix Arts Electronica's Computer Animation category. She is a 2013 Creative Capital award recipient. She is the co-founder and core collaborator of Cloud Eye Control. Cite this episode: Chicago Style Johal, Am. “Infinitely Yours — with Miwa Matreyek.” Below the Radar, SFU's Vancity Office of Community Engagement. Podcast audio, October 1, 2024. https://www.sfu.ca/vancity-office-community-engagement/below-the-radar-podcast/episodes/252-miwa-matreyek.html.

Hitting the last of the Taika reforms, including talk about names, ranks, official duties, and new sumptuary laws for officials. For more, check out:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-111 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 111:  Names, ranks, and court caps. In the early hours of the morning, the locked gates of the palace were dark against the sky.  A few torches provided flickering illumination, as a crowd of officials gathered to the left and right of the doors.  As they waited outside, a low murmur could be heard as they made small talk with their co-workers.  Stragglers continued to join the crowd as the sky itself began to lighten, and though the sun still rested below the horizon, the stars had already given way.  As the light grew, and the torches were extinguished, a few late arrivals rushed up just as sun began to peek over the horizon.  At that, the doors were opened from inside, and the officials streamed in, heading to their offices where they would get to work running the country—their main tool in this task being little more than brush and paper, as they worked to bring order to the chaos. Here we are, still in the second year of Taika, aka 646, and still going through the changes being made to the Yamato government.  Last episode we went through many of the edicts made in and around the third month of the year.  These include proscriptions on the size and content of various tombs, down to how many people they could have work on them and for how long.  Other edicts impacted who could actually control the labor of the people.  While it is likely that local officials remained in charge, there was at least a nominal understanding that the people's labor—whether in the form of corvee labor or rice and similar products of the agricultural labor of the people working the fields—all that labor belonged to the State and, by extension, the sovereign.  There were many other, specific edicts, many having to do with marriage and various instances of harai—not to mention the invention of “escrow”. One of the themes through much of this was at least the nominal extension of the sovereign's direct authority down to the lowest levels of society.  This was accomplished by setting up offices down to the village level that would report up the chain all the way to the court.  These “officers” were likely pulled from individuals who were already part of the elites, but instead of being paid by income from their own lands, they now had stipends coming directly from the court. That was a theme that continued in the edicts that came out in the 8th month, which is where we're going to start with today's episode.  Before we get into that, though, a quick caveat:  I am still not convinced that I fully understand what is going on with some of these edicts, especially around names.  I'm not even sure the Chroniclers fully comprehended what they had put together and pulled from various sources at times, which occasionally seems like it is contradictory or repetitive.  So I'll do my best to explain it as I see it, but if you really want to get into this topic you probably will want to dig into it for yourself. Now I want to start with Aston's translation of part of the edict as recorded in the Nihon Shoki.  Following a rather flowery introduction talking about sage kings—a topic we should touch on at some point—they get to the heart of the matter: “Now as to the names of the early Princes: the Omi, Muraji, Tomo no Miyatsuko and Kuni no Miyatsuko have divided their various Be and allotted them severally to their various titles (or surnames). They afterwards took the various Be of the people, and made them reside in the provinces and districts, one mixed up with another. The consequence has been to make father and child to bear different surnames, and brothers to be reckoned of distinct families, while husbands and wives have names different from one another. One family is divided into five or split up into six, and both Court and country are therefore filled with contentious suits. No settlement has been come to, and the mutual confusion grows worse and worse. Let the various Be, therefore, beginning with those of the reigning Sovereign and including those in the possession of the Omi, Muraji, etc., be, without exception, abolished, and let them become subjects of the State. Those who have become Tomo no Miyatsuko by borrowing the names of princes, and those who have become Omi or Muraji on the strength of the names of ancestors, may not fully apprehend our purport, and might think, if they heard this announcement without warning, that the names borrowed by their ancestors would become extinct. We therefore make this announcement beforehand, so that they may understand what are our intentions. The children of rulers succeed one another in the government of the Realm, and it is well known that the names of the actual Sovereign and of his Royal ancestors will not be forgotten by the world. But the names of sovereigns are lightly given to rivers and plains, or common people are called by them. This is a truly fearful state of things. The appellations of sovereigns, like the sun and moon, will float afar: the names of those of the Royal line will last for ever, like unto Heaven and Earth. Such being our opinion, we announce as follows:--'Do ye all, from those of the Royal line down to the Ministers, the Daibu, Omi, Muraji, and Tomo no Miyatsuko, who do Us service, (in short) all persons of whatever Uji [One book has 'royal subjects of whatever name'], give ear to what We say. With regard to the form of your service, We now abolish the former offices and constitute afresh the hundred bureaus. We shall, moreover, grant grades of rank and confer official dignities.” Whew.  That is a lot, and I want to try to break it down as best I can. First off, I believe this ties in to the earlier edict, in the third month, that we mentioned last episode.  In that edict, the sovereign abolished the “Iribe”—those families made for the princes and ostensibly around to keep certain names alive, though quite probably they were family groups meant to keep previous princes and others rolling in their rice payments.  This new edict is continuing that trend – of abolishing the Be – but is coming at it from a different perspective. As a reminder, the “Be” and the various “Uji”, while they were longstanding Yamato tradition by this point, were originally imported traditions from the continent.  By all accounts the “Be” were the first to be created, with the “family” system creating a hereditary structure through which people would be born into particular jobs, with a familial “head” that would then organize the various members across the realm.  The more aristocratic “uji” formed out of that. Based on this edict, it seems that not only the sovereign of Yamato was using this system.  In fact, I suspect that the various local “sovereigns” of other lands had adopted it for their own purposes as well, and it sounds like even the Yamato courtiers had taken to using a version of this system within the lands that they controlled.  The Be and Uji system were, by this point, ubiquitous across the archipelago, at all levels, from what we can tell. Family *names*, however, were not a native system in Yamato.  Prior to the introduction of the Be and Uji, as best we can tell people were known by where they were from, what they did and the titles they held, and by their given names.  A father and son would not necessarily have shared a name, other than those other factors that they held in common by way of ancestry. I further suspect that ancestor worship was not so much a thing, either.  Not that people  in Yamato didn't revere their parents or remember those that passed on, but there weren't the same ideas about family as among, say, the ethnic Han, for whom ancestor worship was important, and carrying a family name was tied to larger cultural and ritual implications.  In early Yamato, names were tied to jobs and position in society.  If that changed, then someone could easily create a new family—a new “Be”—and people placed in that group would have both a new name and new responsibilities. If a particular elite uji, like the Abe, the Ohotomo, the Nakatomi, or the Mononobe, needed people to set up a new income stream for a particular person—perhaps a son or daughter—or they wanted to start a new industry in their territory, they might just have easily called up various people and reassigned them from one Be to a newly created one.  That would surely explain the breaking up of fathers and sons, such that each had a different name. At the same time, this would have likely been anathema to the Confucian dogma that underlay much of the reasoning behind the reforms.  Confucian theory gives much weight to the concept of filial piety, that a son should be loyal to the father.  Thus to cause a father and son to be split into different families without good reason was likely at odds with what the elite were telling themselves was the proper way of Heaven. So now we come back to the edict, which treats the entire traditional naming system as though it was in line with Confucian ideals. Moreover it places the  authority to regulate these families and family names in the sovereign.  This wasn't actually a new thing: the Chronicles previously had mentioned regulating names under the reign of Woasatsuma no Ohokimi, aka Ingyou Tennou, in the 5th century.  This was covered back in episode 56, where we talked about the importance of names, how they determined who you were and your position in society.  This was changing, as was the concept of family, which was, once again, much more closely tied to Confucian notions of family.  So controlling the names of the families was another form of power that further emphasized the position of the sovereign.  Through the regulation of these corporate families, their labor, was now being brought under the nominal control of the sovereign and the state.  This edict also removed the tradition of naming corporate groups after a person.  Previously that traditions seems to have started as a way to create groups that actually supported a given individual with their labor.  Those groups would often persist beyond the individual, however, and I suspect that's where they became thought of as a kind of memorial, maintaining the memory of that individual.  And I can see the power in that kind of thing, especially prior to having any kind of decent written records.  It is interesting to see how the practice had come to be viewed by the 7th century. There is a mention in the edict of something that runs contrary to how we understand things actually happened, and that was in the comment that lakes and rivers and more had been named after sovereigns.  The Chroniclers here are referring to the way that placenames, such as Hatsuse, or Hase, as well as Okinaga or Katsuraki, show up in the names of various sovereigns.  Aston notes something that seems obvious to me, when you think about it:  These places weren't named after the sovereigns, but the other way around.  Assuming that many of the names we see in the Chronicles were actually titles, they told you things about the person they were attached to, possibly where they were from.  Of course, that interpretation doesn't fit as well into the narrative of the 7th and 8th centuries and the idea that the royal lineage was a largely unbroken line back to the earliest ancestors, instead of a broken lineage of different people from different places.So with all of that, the court abolished the practice of creating all of these different family names.  The edict almost makes it sound like they were abolishing those families, as well, though they make a clarifying point about that: there is a note about how some of the tomo no miyatsuko—a general name for those families that served in court—took their position by ‘borrowing the name of a prince', and how the court didn't want those people to be worried about how this change would affect them.  The meaning would appear to be that courtly families would be unaffected, and this only affected families going forward or those that were created that were apparently below the level of the Tomo no Miyatsuko. That said, this is where it is good to remember that we are reading a Sinified version of the ancient Japanese as told by biased Chroniclers and trying to interpret it through a modern lens, often going through yet another translation in the process. The second part of the edict mentions abolishing the former offices and constituting afresh the hundred bureaus.  This is a bit difficult to parse, but Aston suggests that it refers to abolishing any actual authority attached to the old titles, many of which had become nothing more than names.  So when we see things like Wake and Mimi and other such things that appear to be old titles, the court was likely making sure that everyone now understood that those no longer had any actual authority.  The kabane or family ranks stayed, at least for now,  greater emphasis was placed on the newly established positions that were set up as part of the new state bureaucracy, as well as the rank and stipend that was likewise given out.  Aston also suggests that this change means that the rank and the title were not necessarily one and the same, though high rank often did come with a high position. The edict doesn't stop there, however.  After talking about names and families, it goes on to talk about governors and the kuni-no-miyatsuko handing out rice land per previous edicts.  It is noted that the rice land should be handed out equally to the people, and that those who live on or next to the land should be the ones to get it.  I wonder about the actual execution, but at first blush, at least, this seems to make sense—don't make families hike all the way across the village or region to till the field, but try to locate their land near their home. It also notes that alternate taxes—when it is labor or something else in lieu of rice—should only be collected from men, presumably the head of the household.  This was likely part of the shaping of patriarchal attitudes that assumed the men were the head of household and the chief laborers. The edict went on to call up corvee labor—one from every fifty houses, as had been previously mentioned—to help survey the various provinces and create maps of the provinces and districts.  This is a rather monumental task, and it is unfortunate that no actual map survives from this time as far as I'm aware, but it is one more effort to try to bring the entire realm under the control of the state.  In this case you are, in a way, capturing the realm on paper and setting up a basis on which to discuss later things like land ownership and use even though the actual land might be far away from the political and administrative center. Finally, the edict makes note that uniform provision would be made for any canals, embankments, or rice land that needed to be brought into cultivation.  This likely varied in each district and province, so there is just a general note that would have required local officers of the court to determine exactly what was needed. And that was it for the 8th month, and for edicts that year.  There was more that we will cover in later episodes—rats marching to the east, the last gasps (perhaps) of Nimna as a consideration, and other such things.  But no more edicts. At least not that year.  The following year, Taika 3, or 647, we see the issue of names comes up again.  This time the edict came out in the fourth month, and the claims now seem similar but slightly different from before.  The issue in the 4th month appears to be that some family names were derived from the names of kami or even sovereigns.  Moreover, people were apparently using that connection to claim that they had certain authorities to continue to make people their slaves or to avail themselves of their labor. In the case of the names related to sovereigns, I suspect that ties in directly with the previous discussions of creating corporate groups to support a given prince or other royal family member.  As for the kami, there seems to be some idea that groups that claimed descent from a particular kami would take that kami's name.  So those claiming descent from Oho-kuni-nushi, the Lord of the Great Land, used the name “Oho-kuni-nushi” as their family name.  We aren't given specific examples, however. There are numerous possible explanations I could see for these, especially given the way that early power structures tied themselves to the ability to appease powerful spirits.  The Ohomiwa family name, for example, likely refers to their connection to the religious activities on Mt. Miwa.   I also would not be surprised to learn that some of these families were ancient royalty in their own lands—the lands that Yamato now claimed as provinces.  There is the possibility, though, that all of this is just people taking names for themselves and putting on airs—trying to be important.  After all, in a time before documentation, whos to say when you actually arrived at a particular name and how.  This is a phenomenon seen in parts of America, especially in the early days, when many people struck off to make a life, often without the baggage attached to a previous identity.  Prior to more rigorous systems of documentation, how would you know if the person you met really was “Mr. Underhill” and not someone entirely different? Most important, to me, is the act of the sovereign, as head of the state, in actively claiming authority over these issues as well as putting a stop to the way that people were using such names to apparently make claims to certain entitlements.  The message seems clear:  Moving forward, everything has to go through the sovereign and the court.  The previous systems of rule and governance will no longer be tolerated. Of course, it isn't exactly clear how this was enforced.  Was it purely through the court?  Or was there also some threat of force and violence if people didn't conform?  Or was it enough to make the edict and then have local governors handle it?  Other than the example that was made of several of the governors, which we talked about over the last couple of episodes, I'm not sure that we fully know how it all went down. There were a few other edicts mentioned that year, but apparently the chroniclers didn't know exactly when they had been instituted, and so just claimed that it occurred during that year.  It seems that there was a new palace built, replacing the old government offices at Wogohori, in Naniwa, and there were new rules for how the court would operate.  That entry is placed between the entries of the 4th and 10th month, suggesting it was instituted around the summer period.  Then, after a few more entries, including one for the last day of the year, there was the the institution of a new rank system.  As for the new court rules: all courtiers were to show up to work at the Hour of the Tiger—the period of roughly 3 to 5 AM by modern standards—and they were to stand at the gates of the palace until dawn, at which point the doors would be open and people would be allowed in.  Once everyone was in, the doors would be shut, and anyone who was late, well, I guess you were calling out for the day. We talked a little bit about this practice back in Episode 95, when we were going over Umayado's 17 article constitution, which exhorted the court officials to arrive early and stay late.  This was clearly based on continental models, and as I mentioned back in that episode, it was likely done to make sure that officials had the most daylight possible to complete their tasks. Not that there were so many tasks.  The workday ended around noon—the Hour of the Horse, which technically spanned 11 AM to 1 PM.  A bell would be rung, letting everyone know that it was time to go home.  Realistically this means that you are lining up at 4 AM and going home at noon—roughly an 8 hour day, not including the commute.  And if 4 AM seems early, this was not an uncommon time for people to get up and prepare for the day when they didn't have artificial light to keep them going so much later.  In Medieval Europe it wasn't uncommon for servants to be up and about by 3 or 4 am to go get food to start cooking.  If you consider that it was dark by 6 or 7 pm, and you go to bed around 8 pm, you just might wake up at 4 in the morning—going to bed a little earlier, or just going with a bit less sleep, and you can be up and about by that time. This also gave the court officials time for everything else they would need to do.  From noon until sunset would have been time for the social functions; what we might consider “networking” in a modern corporate environment.  Today we can shift these considerations to much later due to electricity, but when light meant fire and fire meant the possibility of burning down your entire house, then using the light you had makes sense.  In fact, one has to wonder if this is what led to the fire that destroyed Naka no Oe's own mansion—but we'll probably want to save the rest of that story for another episode. The other thing happening this year, and in many ways closely tied with the new court ceremonies, was the implementation of a new rank and cap system. The previous rank system from the time of Umayado was replaced with a system of seven kinds of court caps and 17 grades.  It is often assumed that court caps and clothing were instituted for the earlier system, though there isn't a clear mention of uniforms and colors associated with the earlier ranks are largely conjecture.  It isn't clear that the court had yet picked up the continental clothing styles.  By 647, however, it seems that the court was considering official court clothing. The Tang Dynasty had instituted color regulations for clothing in the the 4th year of Zhen Guan.  The style of robe, the panling lanshan, was borrowed from the Xianbei—a robe with a round-necked collar that originally appeared in the Northern dynasties.  It had been previously adopted by scholars and officials in the Tang dynasty, and in the edict of 630 the Tang emperor dictated specific colors that could be worn based on the rank of the individual.  Coincidentally, 630-632 is when Inugami no Mitasuki was there as an envoy of the Yamato court.  He would have seen the style of the imperial Tang court. Uniforms at the Tang court would have been quite the sight, especially if you weren't used to it.  People in the same style and cut of robe, not just for fashion purposes, but coordinated, like a modern sports team.  You could immediately tell someone's rank, and when they lined up, it would have been particularly striking. It is unclear to me just how similar the Yamato implementation of this system was to the continental version. This may have been more like the “we have a rank system at home” version of courtly outfits.  It also must have been quite the task to have all of the proper caps made from different materials for all of the various ranks and individuals.  And these weren't caps you wore all the time—only at major court ceremonies, including when official dignitaries were visiting or during various Buddhist ceremonies. What's more, only two years later they would change it again.  This time we have the edict pegged to the second month of the year 649, with 19 court cap-ranks initiated.  I'll put the ranks themselves up on the podcast blog at sengokudaimyo.com if anyone is interested in the specifics, but a few notes. First, the names of the ranks were based on various things, such as the color of the cloth of the cap itself and whether it was plain or embroidered.  Some of the classes are based on things like “Flower”, “Mountain”, or “Tiger”, though they possibly meant “Kingfisher” for that last one.  The first three classes are broken up into Greater and Lesser, or Dai and Shou, while the lower classes—ranks 7 to 18—were further broken into Upper and Lower.  So you would have Upper Daikwa, Lower Daikwa, Upper Shoukwa, and Lower Shoukwa, as an example.  That method of breaking the lower classes of ranks into more was something that would persist into later rank systems.  The last rank, “Risshin”, just meant “Advancement” and seems to refer to the lowest grade on the scale. In addition to the ranks, in the 2nd month of 649 Takamuku no Kuromaro and the Buddhist Priest Bin presented their work on the 8 Ministries—or Departments—and the 100 bureaus.  This is work they had been tasked with at the beginning, and the eventual structure is definitely based closely on the Tang dynasty's court, but is not necessarily a one for one adoption.  At the top of it all are the 8 Ministries, or Shou, which oversaw the various bureaus—the text says one hundred, but they aren't actually enumerated and so I think we can assume that they just meant that there were a lot of them. The actual 8 Ministries are as follows: Nakatsukasa Shou – the Ministry of Central Affairs Shikibu Shou – the Ministry of Civil Office Jibu Shou – the Ministry of Ceremonies Mimbu Shou – the Ministry of Popular Affairs Hyoubu Shou – the Ministry of War Gyoubu Shou – the Ministry of Justice Ohokura Shou – the Ministry of the Treasury Kunai Shou – the Ministry Imperial Household Many of these ministries would last for centuries, even as their power was eclipsed by other government institutions.  Still, they would continue to be important, and today the Kunai Shou still exists, though now it is the “Kunai CHO”, often translated as the Imperial Household Agency. These ministries each had officials at their head who reported up to the Ministers of the Left and Right.  These 8 ministries would make up the core of what would come to be known as the Daijo-kan, sometimes referred to as the Great Council of State, which operated the secular government, as opposed to the Jingi-kan, which would come to oversee national Shinto, or kami-related, affairs and ritual. And with that, we largely come to the end of what appears to be the Taika reforms.  The rest of the reign could be thought of as a “burn in” period, I guess, as we assume that they continued to implement these reforms and build up this new government.  It is likely relevant that the following year, in 650, they changed the era name, something that we'll eventually want to talk about. For now, I think we should call it here. Next episode we'll backtrack a bit and go back to some of the other, non-edict related events in this period.  It wasn't exactly clean.  There was intrigue, murder, and more.  Politics at the time were anything but dull. Still, the reforms had brought about a real change in the administration of Yamato, a change that would influence the entire nation for centuries to come.  The centralization of power and the adoption of continental models would not stop simply at administrative tasks, but would find their way into many different facets of life.  Naka no Oe himself would continue to refine the system, as would those who came after him.  The reforms touched just about every facet of life across the archipelago, and in many ways it finally brought the archipelago under the control of the State, with the sovereign at its head. And so, until next time, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Ancestral Science was honored to speak with Drs. MIWA TAKEUCHI & EUN-JI AMY KIM and learn how to be an ally/friend to Indigenous Science. We learned about the difference between allyship, friendship, and kinship, how to re-centre scientific voices of children, the Land, and Knowledge Keepers, how mathematics both take and give lives, reconciliation work never ends, and the importance of balancing both understanding the history and trauma of the original peoples of the land with the beauty, innovation, ingenuity, and science within their culture. Despite the guests concerns this episode may take space away from the voices and teachings of Elders and Knowledge Keepers, the pod hosts understand the importance of accomplices and allies; Indigenous people can't do this work alone. Miwa and Amy also donated their honoraria back to the podcast, thank you.You can support the pod through some unique episode-themed Indigenous Science merch at www.relationalsciencecircle.com/shop to support Knowledge Keeper honoraria, editing, and keeping the pod going.Shownotes: here for additional information, readings, articles, webpages, videos, please check out the shownotes. These are great for teachers!Also, remember to check out more about the guests here:-https://soilcamp.ca-“Relational Land-Based Science, Technology, Engineering, Arts, and Mathematics Education” (2024) (book)-“Asian Changemakers: Shaping the Future through Land-based Learning with Dr. Miwa Takeuchi” https://youtu.be/kwLSCBBkKpo-https://www.aciar.gov.au/project/slam-2021-107 Thanks to Indigenous Screen Office, Storyhive, and Windspeaker.Gratitude to the support from JUAN-CARLOS CHAVEZ, the editing and audio skills of EMIL STARLIGHT of Limelight Multimedia, and ALEX FLETT for marketing and pod support. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Miwaさんをゲストに、従来のかな漢字変換の仕組みや課題、ニューラルかな漢字変換であるAzooKeyのモチベーションや仕組みなどについて語っていただいたエピソードです。話したネタきっかけの記事: ニューラルかな漢字変換エンジン「Zenzai」をazooKey on macOSに搭載します従来のかな漢字変換手法とは？N分割最長一致法ビタビアルゴリズム従来のかな漢字変換の課題は？ニューラルかな漢字変換とはAzooKey 開発のモチベーションAzooKey の仕組み従来手法とGPT-2ベースのLLMを組み合わせたハイブリッドな手法投機的デコーディング変換精度現在の AzooKey の技術的課題と今後の方針AzooKeyのGitHubリポジトリSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Midnight Madness Radio Episode 283 with Rimbacher, Circle The Cityy, Beyond The Labyrinth, Desert Kites, Famina, All I Know, Eddie Mole, Painted Scars, Apotheus, and Chris Slade Timeline. Hardy Mills from Hardman Productions with an interview of drummer Chris Slade who has played in bands like Tom Jones, Manfred Mann's Earth Band, Uriah Heep, Gary Numan, The Mick Ralphs Band, David Gilmour, The Firm, Gary Moore, AC/DC, Asia, Damage Control, Michael Schenker Group, MIWA and Chris Slade Timeline.

We are finally starting to get into the Taika era and the Taika reforms, which would really start the transformation of Yamato into the bureaucratic state of the Nara period.  This episode, we look back at how the Yamato state had been changing up to this point, some of the possible influences and precursors, and then dive into some of the first edicts, largely dealing with sending out governors to the provinces.  These governors, or "kokushi", were originally temporary positions, limited in what they could do.  More info over at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-108  Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 108: The Great Change ……………….. The Kuni no Miyatsuko, hereditary leader of his lands, likely heard the news before they arrived.  Apparently Yamato was sending out an official—a kokushi—who was going to be doing some sort of survey.  Whatever.  Just another person from Yamato's court—what did it matter?  His family had been in charge of the local lands for as long as anyone remembered, and while they might give nominal fealty to the Oho-kimi in Yamato, along with the occasional bit of taxes, paid in rice, what consequence was it to him?  Some might say he was a big fish in a small pond, but it was his pond.  Always had been, and always would be.  Wouldn't it? ……………….. And we are back with our regular chronological podcast, and we are finally going to pick back up on the fall out from the events of 645, the Isshi Incident, when Prince Naka no Oe orchestrated the murder of Soga no Iruka, and later his father, Soga no Emishi, in full view of the court, including his mother, Takara, aka Kougyoku Tennou.  That incident would be the start of Naka no Oe's own rise to power and the reshaping of Yamato from the its longstanding clan based system of government to a new national government of laws and punishments, known generally as the Ritsuryo system.  This episode we'll dive into this new system and the so-called “Taika reforms” that brought it about, the changes it ushered in, and the ripples this sent throughout the entire archipelago.     The term “Taika” itself means “Great Change”, and it isn't clear to me if it was picked because they expected to be making big changes or after the fact, but in the minds of most Japanese historians it is quite accurate. The entire system actually took about a century or so to really come together—we often think of the Ritsuryo system as it was in its final version.  This period, though, is where things kicked off, so we'll be setting the stage and talking about some of the edicts during this period that eventually became the written code of the Ritsuryo system.  This was started by Naka no Oe who, spoiler alert, would eventually reign as sovereign and be known as Tenchi Tennou.  The system he helps put into place would continue to be used and refined even after his death and even after the end of the period covered by the Nihon Shoki. So after some background, we'll get to some of the very first edicts this episode, and then spend more time on them again, in the future. The RitsuryoThe Ritsuryo system was based largely on continental models, with Confucian ideals and the legal code of the Tang dynasty having particular influence.  And as we discuss these changes, which were huge, I'll start with some clarifications and caveats.  This was a system of government based largely on continental models, with Confucian ideals and the legal code of the Tang dynasty having particular influence.  That   One of the first things to emphasize is that said, itthis wasn't exactly an immediate revolution and reformation.  Based on the entries in the Nihon Shoki, some of the work had already  been started long before Naka no Oe came on the scene, largely attributed to the influence of Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, and things like the 17 article constitution and rank system, which we discussed back in episode 95.  And even after its initial implementation, there would come various tweaks to the system.  Although there are numerous edicts made in the initial years of what is known as the Taika era, leading this change to often be given the nickname of the “Taika reforms”, the earliest formal administrative codes would come much later, firming up in the 8th century. Another thing to keep in mind as we realize, as we start looking at these changes is that the Yamato courtit didn't necessarily discard the old system, either.  Changes like this take time, and something even if it is implemented for a year or two , it might not stick.  This is one of the reasons that it is important that two of the apparent architects of the new system for these changes were there present through much of its implementation, actively guiding and shaping the process direction that the changes would take.  These two individuals at wereas Prince Naka no Oe and Nakatomi no Kamako, later known in this reign as Kamatari, which is the name I'm going to use from here on out as it is the much more well known in case anyone decides to look up information later. Finally, I would also note that many of these changes were being applied at the level of the elites of society, how they organized power and how they approached governance – but  we should also spare a thought for how this affected the majority of people.  After all, it was the majority of people who were working the fields, cutting the wood, or fishing the seas.  The elites were often otherwise engaged, and whichthat isn't to say that they did nothing.  Often they were coordinating and bringing things together, but that was a smaller part of the overall population.  In these reforms we get to see some rare glimpses into how all of thisit may have affected people beyond just the court elites. To set this up, let's start with a look at what brought us here, and how things changed over time and how they had governed things up until now—or at least as best as we can make out from our various sources.  From there we can take a look at some of the earliest edicts related to the changes evolution in the government, focusing how they focused on consolidating the power and support at the center of the Yamato court and starteding to make more concrete Yamato's control across the rest of the archipelago. We've covered much of the development of complex society in Yamato this in previous episodes:  How Yayoi society came with or at least introduced a form of stratification evident in graves, grave goods, as well as other patterns of lifeways.  Local elites rose up to oversee communities, and eventually extended their influence, creating the various “kuni”, or countries—regional collections of communities that came together under a leadership structure and some shared cultural values.   Some of the earliest stories give us the Hiko-Hime leadership structure, often with a male and female head of state, though sometimes shown as elder and younger co-rulers.  This is backed up by some evidence in the kofun era, as we see large, single-purpose tomb mounds built for what we can only assume are the elite.  Their construction would have required control of a large labor force, indicating a certain amount of their power, and their shape and various burial goods have further suggested, at least to scholars like Kishimoto, that there may have been a division of rulership, at least early on. We've talked about the spread of Yamato style round keyhole shaped kofun through the archipelago and how the popularity of that kofun shape demonstrated Yamato's influence but  in the shape of their kofun, but that didn't necessarily accompany a change in  change the actual dynamics of local government, other than demonstrating Yamato's increased influence.  The next thing we see in the record, I would argue, is the change to a familial based system, or the Bemin-sei.  This is what we've talked about periodically in terms of both the uji, familial groups or clans, and the “be” familial or occupational groups, but here I'll give an overview of the whole practice and what its development means in the sense of changing approaches to organizing and governing a complex society. The Bemin system was a means of further dividing and categorizing people in society, .  It is  rooted in continental concepts of a familial group.  Prior to the 5th century, there isn't a clear indication of familial clans in Yamato, though that doesn't mean people didn't know where they were from.  They still remembered who their ancestors were, and that was important, often tracing back to mythical and legendary individuals who are recorded as gods, or kami.  I suspect, however, that in the smaller communities of the Yayoi period, where you were from was as a good an indicator of your relationships as anything else.  Farming is a pretty sedentary lifestyle, and if you know all of your neighbors there isn't as much need to divide each other up into specific familial groups.  It was more important that I'm from this village or region than I'm from this particular family. And so the oldest stories in the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki only refer to individuals by their names or by locatives.  Occasionally we will be told that so-and-so was an ancestor of this or that uji, or clan, but it is telling that they don't use the clan name with that person. Surnames do become important, however, in the Bemin system.  But they are only really important for those in the upper tiers of society.  Amongst the farmers and other commoners—the heimin—you often won't find specific surnames, or people will use pure locatives or something similar to refer to a person.  Surnames were for people a little further up the social food chain. From what we can tell, the uji structure likely started with the “-Be” families, trying to set up groups of individuals who were in charge of certain economic activities beyond just farming the land.  The Imbe, the Mononobe, the Abe, the Kuratsukuribe, and the Kusakabe are all examples of family names ending in “-Be”.  Some, like Kuratsukuribe, Inukaibe, and Umakaibe are all fairly straightforward:  These are groups that were set up around particular industries.  Kuratsukuri literally means “saddle-making”, so the Kuratsukuri-be are the saddlemakers.  Inukai and Umakai refer to the ones who kept or raised the dogs and horses. Setting up a familial or clan unit around a certain profession was one way of organizing society so that you had the things that you needed.  Such jobs were often inherited, anyway, passing from father to son, mother to daughter, etc.  So it makes some sense.  And the clan, or uji, structure meant that there was a person or persons at the head of the familial unit who could be responsible for coordinating efforts across different, sometimes dispersed, groups of people. The thing is, there is no indication that the people in these professions were necessarily related to each other prior to this organization, and in many ways the idea that they were a family with a common ancestor was a created fiction.  There may have been some relationship—for instance, weaver groups were often centered on immigrant groups that came over from the continent with knowledge of specific techniques, so there was likely some pre-existing relationship, but they weren't necessarily what we would consider family, related by blood, to one another. Over time these groups became actual clans—children were born into them and remained, unless they specifically were split off into a different uji for some reason.  Some of them dropped the “-Be” part of their name—in some instances it seems this may have created a distinction between the line at the head of the clan vice the other members, but that distinction isn't entirely clear.  Furthermore, members of these clans were not, ultimately, restricted to the hereditary jobs for which the clan had been created.  There are also clans that appear to be more about location, possibly local rulers or magnates.  For example, there are the Munakata and the Miwa, referring to local chiefs or lords of the Munakata and Miwa areas, both important ritual areas. The clans formed another function as well, as each clan had a kabane, which was an early form of social rank.  Some of these ranks appear to have come from titles or positions.  So, for instance, you have the Omi, the Muraji, the Kimi, and the Atahe.  Early on, Muraji appears to be the more prestigious title, with the Ohomuraji being the head of a Muraji level house that was also a key member of the government.  Omi, meaning minister, eventually came to be seen as more prestigious, however.  Meanwhile, both were more presitiousprestigious than the term “Kimi”, although that may have originated as a term for the rulers of the local countries, which makes sense if you consider that the Yamato sovereign was the Oho-kimi, or the Great Kimi, much as the Oho-omi was in charge of an Omi group and the Ohomuraji was in charge of a Muraji level house.  There are also Omi and Muraji households for whom there is no Oho-omi or Oho-muraji ever mentioned, but only members of the Omi and Muraji ranked families were considered for positions at the top of the court hierarchy.  This All of this clan and rank system began to change in the 6th century during the reign of Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno, with the introduction of the 17 article constitution and new rank system.  While both of these developments are of debatable veracity, since the chroniclers likely made this change seem much more structured than it actually was in practice, —there is probably at least something to the idea that the Yamato court y werewas adopting more continental ideas regarding state governance.  The rank system, in particular, was a step towards recognizing individuals above simply their inherited social position.  While kabane rank was applied to an entire uji, the new rank was applied to individuals alone, meaning that an individual could be recognized without necessarily rewarding every other person holding their same surname.  At the same time, more and more books were coming in from the continent.  Some of these were focused on the new Buddhist religion, but there were also other works, based on a variety of subjects and introducing the Yamato court to some of the philosophical ideas of what government should be.  And then there were various envoys sent to the Sui and Tang courts in the early 7th century, where they would have seen how things were working there. Nonetheless, to be clear, we don't know it is unclear just how far Yamato control extended across the archipelago.  We know that in the 5th century there were individuals who considered themselves part of the Yamato court structure from the Kantou to Kyuushuu.  In the Nihon Shoki, we also see the establishment of Miyake up and down the archipelago, from as far out as Kamitsukenu, aka Kozuke, to the western edge of Kyushu, in the early 6th century.  These were areas of rice-land which owed their output to the Yamato court or a particular endeavor.  They would have had officials there tied to the court to oversee the miyake, providing a local court presence, but how much this translated into direct Yamato control is hard to say. Then there is the Dazai , the Yamato outpost in Kyushu,  set up in the area of Tsukushi, modern Fukuoka Prefecture, largely following the Iwai Rebellion, and which we .  We talked about this some in the Gishiwajinden Tour episode about Ito and Na, extending a more directand how the Yamato government extended a more direct, and explicitly military, presence in Kyushu. Still, the individual lands of places like Hi, Toyo, Kibi, Owari, or Musashi were all governed by the Kuni no Miyatsuko, the Yamato court's term for the various chieftains or rulers of the different lands. And that gets us roughly to the situation where we are now, in 645.  Prince Naka no Oe hadand been talking with his good friend Nakatomi no Kamatari about how things should be, ever since the day that Kamatari had helped him out at a kemari game—something akin to group hackey-sack with a volleyball.  As we've discussed in past episodes, a lot of this sense of “how things should be” related to nipping the power of Soga no Iruka and Soga no Emishi in the bud, cutting off what they no doubt saw as a thread to imperial power and the ”right way of doing things”.  But Tthe two had also been taking lessons from the Priest Minabuchi, and, like students everywhere, they thought they had figured this whole government thing out as well.  They'd been reading the classics and would have had access to the reports from various envoys and ambassadors to the Tang court.  The last one had left in 630 and returned in 632.  They would no doubt have seen the workings of the Tang dynasty law code of 624 and the subsequent update in 627.  Naka no Oe and Kamatari may have even heard news of the update in 637. Thise law code, implemented by Tang Taizong, relied on Confucian and Legalist theory.  It wasn't the first law code in East Asia, or even the Yellow River basin , but it is one of the most significant and influential, and the earliest for which we have the actual code itself—though the extant version is from 653, about eight years after the events of 645., butHowever, as we'll see, all of this was well withing the timeframe which the Ritsuryo system was used and updated, itself. So, Naka no Oe and Kamatari have a shiny new document in their hands, promising an organized system of government very different from the status quo in Yamato to date.  However, the Tang law code did have a problem:  It was undeniably centered in the imperial culture of the Yellow River and Yangzi River basins.  These areas had long had the concept of empire, and even in the chaotic period of the Sixteen Kingdoms and the Northern and Southern dynasties, the concept of an empire that ruled “All Under Heaven”, or “Tianxia” was something that people generally accepted.  The Wa polities of the Japanese archipelago, even as they were now consuming media from the continent, still operated under their own cultural imaginaries of how the world was ordered and how government operated.  And so the code couldn't just be adopted wholesale:  It would have to be adapted to the needs and demands of the Wa polity. I should note that this was unlikely the reforms that took place in Yamato were sole effort of Naka no Oe and Kamatari, and much of what is written suggests that this wasn't done simply through autocratic fiat, but included some key politicking.  This started even before the Isshi Incident.  Kamatari already had close ties with Prince Karu before he met with Naka no Oe.  Kamatari and Naka no Oe had also brought Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro into their confidence, a member of the Soga family.  The Fujiwara family history, the Toushi Kaden, compiled by Fujiwara Nakamaro in the 8th century, describes Maro—referenced as Soga no Yamada—as a man of particular and upright character.  He also appears to have had a beef with his cousin , Soga no Iruka, and was ambitious. I'm not sure just how much Naka no Oe and Kamatari were sharing their plans about reforming the State at this point, or if they were simply concentrating efforts on bringing down—that is to say murdering—Soga no Iruka. The Toushi Kaden mentions that others were also brought around to at least the idea that something had to be done about Soga no Iruka, though nobody was quite willing to speak out for fear of Soga no Iruka and his father, Emishi, and what they could do to someone's reputation—or worse.  After all, Soga no Iruka had only   recently killed the Prince Yamashiro no Oe, reportedly as part of a plot to ensure Prince Furubito would be next elevated to the throne.  On the other hand, not much information seems to be given about the reforms until they are enacted. And so after the Isshi Incident, we see our murderous firebrands taking the reins of power.  As we noted back in episode 106, Prince Karu was encouraged to take the throne, while Prince Furubito no Ohoye retired from the world and took orders at a temple in Yoshino.  Naka no Oe had been offered the throne, we are told, but turned it down, as the optics on it would not have been great.  Not only because he was clearly responsible for the death of Soga no Iruka and his father, and thus his mother's abdication.  However, he could still be made Crown Prince, and keep right on going with his ambitions to change up the way things were done in the Yamato government. Although Naka no Oe and Kamatari get most of the credit, the work required the cooperation—or at least consent—of the newly made sovereign, Prince Karu, also known as Ame Yorozu Toyohi, later styled as Koutoku Tennou.  After all, it would be his edicts that would lay out the new system, and his name that would be attached to it.   One good example is a change that came immediately: Meanwhile, in place of Soga no Iruka as Oho-omi, Karu selected two individuals to take his place, dividing up the position of Oho-omi into ministers of the Left and Right.  The first was Abe no Omi no Uchimaro, as Minister of the Left, and then Soga no Kurayamada no Omi no Ishikawa no Maro, Naka no Oe's recently made father-in-law, was made the Minister of the Right.  These positions, later known as the Sadaijin and Udaijin, would continue to be two of the most powerful civil positions in the Ritsuryo and later Japanese governments.  The Minister of the Left, the Sadaijin, was often considered the senior of the two. By the way, “Daijin” is just a sinified reading applied to the characters used for “Oho-omi”, or great minister.  This means that the Minister of the Left, the Sadaijin, could just as easily be called the Oho-omi of the Left, or something similar.  This actually causes a bit of confusion, especially in translation, but just realize that this is effectively just a rebranding, and not entirely a new name.  What was new was this idea that they were broken into the Left and the Right a distinction that would mean a lot more once more of the bureaucratic offices and functionaries were properly defined. Who were these two new ministers? Abe no Uchimaro has popped up a few times in the narrative.  He was an experienced courtier.  The Abe family had been moving within the halls of power for some time, and had even stood up to the Soga family when Soga no Umako had tried to acquire their lands in Katsuraki, making an ancestral claim.  Uchimaro had also been involved in the discussions regarding Princes Tamura and Yamashiro no Oe after the death of Kashikya Hime, hosting one of the dinners during which the delicate issue of succession was discussed.  He was clearly a politician of the first order.  Of course, Soga no Kurayamada had clearly earned his position through his connections with the conspirators. , bBut what about Nakatomi no Kamatari?  Well, he wasn't exactly left out in the cold.  Nakatomi no Kamatari was made the Naijin, the Minister, or “Omi”, of the Middle or the Minister of the Interior, implying that he had some authority over the royal household itself.  This feels like a created position, possibly to allow him the freedom to help with the primary work of transforming the Yamato government. Although Naka no Oe and Kamatari get most of the credit, the work required the cooperation—or at least consent—of the newly made sovereign, Prince Karu, also known as Ame Yorozu Toyohi, later styled as Koutoku Tennou.  After all, it would be his edicts that would lay out the new system, and his name that would be attached to it. One of the first things that is recorded in the Nihon Shoki was the declaration of a nengo, or era name.  Up to this point, years in Yamato were remembered by the reign of the sovereign—typically based on their palace.  So you would see things like the second year of the reign of the sovereign of Shiki palace, or something like that.  In addition, at least since about the 6th century, if not earlier, years would eventually be given the appropriate sexagesimal year name, combing one of the ten stems and twelve branches.  For example, 2024, when this episode is coming out, is the year of the Wood Dragon, or Kinoe-tatsu.  This is still used for various Japanese traditionspractice still continues today in Japan for various reasons. The Nengo was something newly introduced to Japan, however: .  Aan era name would be chosen by the sovereign, often based on important changes that either had occurred or even as a wish for something new.  So you would we see a new nengo with the ascension of a new sovereign, but it couldan also come because of an auspicious omen or because of a terrible disaster and hope for something new.  The current nengo, which started with the reign of Emperor Naruhito a few years back, is “Reiwa”. This very first nengo, we are told, was “Taika”, meaning, as I said up front, “Great Change”.  It certainly was apropos to the work at hand.  So let's go through the Chronicles and see some of the “great changes” occurring at the Yamato court now that the intention had been made clear.  We already talked about the change from an single Oho-omi to ministers of the Left and Right, but there were many other Some of the first things were to set up various newly created officials and positions.  An example is , such as two doctors, or Hakase – doctors in the sense of learned experts, not medical doctors, although medicine was certainly revered.  One of these new Hakase was the Priest Min, presumably the same one who had brought back astronomical knowledge from the Sui dynasty, possibly the same as the one known as Sho'an.  The other was Takamuko no Fubito no Kuromaro, who had gone to the Sui Dynasty with Min and others and come back with knowledge of how things worked on the continent.  The Takamuko family had immigrant roots as descendants of the Ayabito, and Kuromaro was well traveled, returning from the Sui court by way of Silla.  These two were well positioned to help with the work at hand. Now that the rudiments of a cabinet were in place, Oone of the first problems set before things after setting up their cabinet, as it were, was to askthe their new Ministers of the Right and Left, as well as the various officials, the Daibu and the Tomo no Miyatsuko, was how tohey should  get people to acquiesce to forced, or corvee labor—the idea that for certain government projects villages could be called upon to provide manual labor in the form of a healthy adult—typically male—to help as needed.  This was a thorny problem, and evidently it was thought best to get expertise beyond the purely human.  The following day, tThe Udaijin, Soga no Ishikawa no Maro, suggested that the kami of Heaven and Earth should be worshipped and then affairs of government should be considered.  And so Yamato no Aya no Hirafu was sent to Wohari and Imbe no Obito no Komaro was sent to Mino, both to make offerings to the kami there for their assistance, it would seem, in setting up a good government. This is significant, in part, as it shows the continued importance of local traditions focused on appeasing the kami, rather than the Buddhist rituals that they could have likely turned to, instead. FinallyThree weeks later, on the 5th day of the 8th month—about three weeks later— camecomes the first truly major edict of the Taika era, which and it wasis to appoint new governors, or kokushi, of the eastern provinces.  Note that they specifically mention the Eastern Provinces, presumably meaning those east of Yamato, since they only sent out eight of them.  They also did not send them to usurp control, necessarily, from the Kuni no Miyatsuko of those areas.  The Kuni no Miyatsuko were still nominally in charge, it would seem, but the court was getting ready to make some major changes to the relationship. These governors were expected to go out and take a census of the people—both those free and those in bondage to others.  They were also to take account of all of the land currently under cultivation, likely to figure out how to tax it appropriately.  As for things other than arable land, such as gardens, ponds, rivers, oceans, lakes, mountains, etc., the edict commands the governors to consult with the people—presumably the people of the province—to get a better idea of what should be done. And this doesn't sound so bad.  It is basically just a tally of what is already there.  That said, anyone who has worked in a modern office probably knows about the dread that comes over a workplace when people show up from the Head Office with clipboards in hand.  However, apparently many of the people had not yet heard of a “clipboard” and likely didn't realize that this was only a precursor to greater and more centralized bureaucratic control. Now in addition to taking a zero-baseline review of provincial resources, there was also a list of what these new governors y were to avoid – clear boundaries around the power they were to wield.  For one thing, they were not to hear criminal cases.  They weren't there to be an extension of the Yamato court in such matters or to usurp the duties of the Kuni no Miyatsuko, one supposes.  Furthermore, when they were traveling to the capital, they were only to bring themselves and district officials, but not a huge retinue.  Whether they realized it or not, these kokushi were early bureaucrats in a burgeoning bureaucratic state, and they weren't supposed to be going out there to become minor kings in their own right; their power came from and was limited by the royal edict.  They also did not send them to usurp control, necessarily, from the Kuni no Miyatsuko of those areas.  The Kuni no Miyatsuko were still nominally in charge, it would seem, but the court was getting ready to make some major changes to the relationship. When traveling on official business, the governors could use appropriate government resources, such as the horses and food that they were entitled to.  Remember that post stations were set up, previously, to help better facilitate official travel and communication.  In a later edict it would be clarified that officials would be given a bronze token with bell-like figures on it.  The shape of the token would indicate what kinds of resources the individual was entitled to.  This applied to governors and their assistants.  Those who follow the rules could be rewarded with rank and more, while those who disobeyed would be reduced in rank, and any stipend that came with it.  Furthermore, any government official who was found taking a bribe would be liable to pay twice the amount, as well as being open to criminal punishment. The Chief Governor was allowed nine attendants, while the assistant was allowed seven, and a secretary—for which think more of the head of a branch office or department under the governor—could have five.  Any more, and the governor and followers could be punished for it. While in the provinces, the governors were expected to look into any claims of potentially false inheritance.  This included anyone using a false name or title to claim rights that were not theirs.  Governors were to first investigate what was going on before submitting their findings up to the court. Governors were also to erect arsenals on waste pieces of ground—ground that could not be cultivated for some reason.  In those arsenals they were to gather the various weapons and armor of the provinces and districts, presumably so that soldiers could be called up quickly and everyone could just get their equipment from one place, but it also looks like an attempt to take control of the means of violence.  Whether or not that was their direct intention I cannot say.  There was a provision for those on the frontier, with the Emishi, to allow the owners to keep their weapons, probably because the situation was potentially volatile, and it could turn at any moment. And so that was the first major piece of legislation:  Sending out governors to what are translated as “provinces”—though we are still using the term “kuni”, which equally refers to a state or country—ostensibly for the purposes of assessing the land, its value, the number of people, etc, but also to .  They are centralizeing military assets.   and they are given status as true court representatives.  I do notice that it was explicitly stated that these governors were for the eastern lands, .  presumably meaning those east of Yamato, since they only sent out eight of them These are areas that historically appear to have relied more on Yamato or else been something of a frontier area for the ethnic Wa people.  They may have been more open to Yamato's demands on their sovereignty. There were two more pieces to thise edict that didon't directly apply to the governors.  First off was the institution of a bell and a box to be set up at the court.  The box was basically a place to receive complaints about how things were going in the realm.  They are careful to note that complaints should be vetted by the Tomo no Miyatsuko, one of the hereditary government officials, or at least to the head of one's uji, if possible.  If they couldn't come to a decision, though, the complaints would be collected at dawn and then the government would look into them.  If anyone thought that there was a problem with how a complaint was being handled—for example, if they thought there was malfeasance involved or even just neglect, with officials not addressing it in a timely fashion, then the plaintiffs could go to the court and ring the bell, officially noting their dissatisfaction with the process. This idea of a bell and complaints seems to be a wide-ranging practice throughout Asia.  During the reign of the Legendary Yao, people were encouraged to nail their complaints to a tree.  Other edicts suggest that bells and drums were hung in royal palaces to allow common people to voice their grievances.  We have examples of the practice showing up in the Sukhothai kingdom of Thailand, during the 13th century reign of King Ramkhamhaeng, and then a 16th century example in what is now Myanmar, aka Burma.  While they differ in specifics, they are all related to the concept of royal justice even for the lowest of the people.  Granted, if you are a farmer in Owari province, I don't know how easy it was going to be to make your way over to the royal palace and ring that bell, but at least there was the idea that people could submit complaints. This was apparently used relatively soon after, as recounted in the second month of the following year, about six months later.  Apparently some person had placed a complaint in the box stating that people who had come to the capital on government business were being put to work and ill-used.  Basically it sounds like they were being rounded up for corvee labor even though they weren't local residents, they were just passing through.  In response, the sovereign, Karu, put a stop to forced labor at various places—presumably where the offending action was taking place, so I guess the complaint system it was working. The last part of this first set of edicts, kicking off the change was about inheritance.  Not all people in Yamato were free, and the law saw a difference between the status of free and unfree persons—that is to say enslaved persons.  And so they made laws that only the child of two free persons would be considered free.  If either parent was in bondage, then the child was also considered in bondage to their parent's house.  If two enslaved persons of different houses had a child, then they would stay with the mother.  Temple serfs, though technically bound to service of the temple, were made a special case, and their children were to be treated as if the temple serf was a free person. Slavery is something that doesn't always get talked about regarding ancient Yamato, and the Chronicles themselves don't tend to mention enslaved peoplethem often, but more because they belonged to a class of society that was largely outside of the scope of the narrative.  In cases where they are discussed, such as in these edicts, the Chronicles are unapologetic of the practice.  These may have been people who were captured in raids, or their descendants, or people who had been enslaved as punishment for some offence, although it isn't quite clear just what would count.  We know that Himiko sent enslaved persons as part of the tribute to the Wei Court, as she was trying to curry favor, and mention of them certainly shows up now and again. It is unclear how many people were enslaved up to this point, but some estimates suggest that it may have been five to ten percent of the population.  As I've mentioned before, this practice continued up until the Sengoku Period, and was only abolished by Toyotomi Hideyoshi in an attempt to stop the Portuguese from buying enslaved Japanese people and transporting them away from Japan.  That didn't meant that other forms of bondage, often economic in nature, didn't happen, however. So that was the content of the first edict—one of many.  The court sent out newly appointed “governors” to the provinces, but these governors were, so far, limited in their scope.  There is even some evidence that these may have been initially seen as temporary positions, and there was mention of “kokushi” in the previous reign.  Still, this was part of a clearly concentrated effort to assume central authority over the archipelago.  There were even officials appointed over the six districts of Yamato province, the core of the Yamato state, who were likewise expected to prepare registers of the population and the cultivated land. Even the idea that the sovereign had the right to make these appointments was something a bit radical, and indicated a change in way that the court, at least, would view the sovereign.  It likewise placed the sovereign in a position to dispense justice, through the vehicle of the court, and it began to define the citizens of the realm as well. That said, this all could have been argued for by using the Sui and Tang as examples of what government should look like and what a true nation should look like. It is also possible that this didn't all happen of a sudden in the 8th month, as the Chronicles describe it.  This is suggested at based on a separate account, mentioned in the Nihon Shoki, that the gathering of weapons, for instance—one of the things that the governors were charged with—actually took place between the 6th and 9th month, so some of this likely started before the date listed for the edict, and that may just have been one part of the whole.  The Chroniclers often do this, finding one particular date and throwing in everything rather than giving things piecemeal—depending on the event.  In addition, on the 19th day of the 9th month, officials were sent out to all of the provinces—not just the eastern provinces—to take a proper census.  At this same time, the sovereign, Karu, issued another edict, which seems related to their work as well as that of the governors, or kokushi, sent to the east.  In it he noted that the powerful families—the Omi, the Muraji, the Tomo no Miyatsuko, and the Kuni no Miyatsuko—would compel their own vassals to work at their pleasure.  They would also appropriate for themselves various pieces of land, so that people could only work it for them.  Not everyone was doing this, though.  Some unnamed persons were accused of hording thousands of acres of rice-land, while others had no more land than you could stick a needle into.  Furthermore, these powerful families were collecting taxes for themselves, first, and then handing a portion over to the government.  They likely compelled their vassals to work on their own tombs, and such.  And so, the sovereign, Karu, forbade anyone from becoming a landlord and forcing people to pay rent.  Presumably he was also dealing with some of the other aspects, though that may have proved more difficult.  After all, from what we've seen, everything that Karu is complaining about—things that no doubt were considered antithetical to good government based on pure Confucian values—were the norm for the elite at the time.  Heck, the Kuni no Miyatsuko had no doubt thought of the land and the people on it as their own, not Yamato's.  However, things were shifting, and once again we see Yamato exerting royal prerogative over the land and people, something that they would do more and more as the system of laws and punishments eventually came together. Now the big question is how did this all pan out?  Well, it took some time, but we get a report on the second day of the third month of the following year, 646, and to be honest, it doesn't sound like things were going too well.  Of the high officials sent out as kokushi to govern the eastern provinces, six listened and did what they were told, but two did not, and then there were numerous other issues.  A more detailed list was given on the 19th of the month, including a clearer idea of punishments. The decree was given to the “Choushuushi”, apparently other government officials sent to check on how things were going, though it was clearly about various officials. The decree starts by reminding officials that they were not to use their position to appropriate public or private property.  Anyone of Assistant governor rank or higher would be punished by being degraded in rank, and presumably their stipend.  Those officials of clerk, or secretary, on down would face flogging.  If anyone was found converting public property (or someone else's) to their own use, they would be fined double the value of the property, just as with bribes.  So the Yamato government was They were really trying to tamp down on people trying to make a profit from their position. Here are a few of the specific things that the Choushuushi reported back: -             Hozumi no Omi no Kuhi taxed individual families for his own use and though he gave some of it back make, it wasn't all.  His two assistants were at fault for not correcting him. -             Kose no Tokune no Omi did something similar, taking away horses from the farmers for his own use.  His assistants not only did not correct him, but actually helped him.  They also took horses from the Kuni no Miyatsuko of the province.  One of the officials tried to remonstrate with him, but he finally gave in to the corruption. -             Ki no Marikida no Omi sent men to Asakura no Kimi and Inoue no Kimi to look at their horses for his own use.  He also had Asakura no Kimi make him swords and provide bow-cloth.  He also took the payments in lieu of weapons offered by the Kuni no Miyatsuko but didn't properly report it.  As a somewhat strange addition to these charges, he apparently was guilty of allowing himself to be robbed of a sword in his own province as well as in Yamato, presumably one that was actually government property.  Apparently being held up at sword point wasn't considered sufficient justification for letting it go.  This was facilitated by his assistants and their subordinates. -             Adzumi no Muraji apparently made the Kuni no Miyatsuko send government property to someone when they were ill, and he took horses belonging to the Yube clan.  His assistant gathered items at his house that were paid in lieu of hay, and he took the horses of the Kuni no Miyatsuko and exchanged them for others.  At least two other brothers were found guilty as well. -             Ohochi no Muraji broke the decree of not personally judging the complaints of the people in the districts under his charge.  He took it on himself to judge the case of the men of Udo and the matter of the enslaved persons of Nakatomi no Toko, who was also considered guilty. -             Kishida no Omi, as with Ki no Marikida, also allowed his sword to be stolen, showing a want of circumspection. -             In one of the strangest put-downs in this list, Womidori no Omi and Tanba no Omi weren't guilty of anything, but were just considered incompetent.  So make of that what you will. -             Imbe no Konomi and Nakatomi no Muraji no Mutsuki also committed offenses, we are told, but the nature is unclear. -             Hada no Omi and Taguchi no Omi, on the other hand, were free and clear.  Apparently they hadn't committed any offenses. -             Finally, Heguri no Omi was guilty of neglecting to investigate the complaints of the men of Mikuni. A big to-do was made about the punishments to be meted out to all of these individuals, as well as to the Kuni no Miyatsuko who may have enabled them.  However, instead of prosecuting them, Karu declared a general amnesty.  This was like a mass pardon of offenses—a do-over if you would.  Not that anything would be forgotten.  On the other hand, six individuals who did as they were told were all commended for their service.  He also took the lent-rice for the maintenance of the late Kibishima, the dowager queen who had passed away in 643, and distributed her official-rice lands amongst the ministers down to the Tomo no Miyatsuko.  He also gave rice-land and hill tracts, which weren't suitable for farming, over to various temples which had previously been omitted from the official registers for some reason. Over all, this seems to be a rather powerful message:  We're not They weren't fooling around with these changes, and people better get on board or get out of the way.  Whereas previously things in the provinces may have operated under a sort of Vegas Rules, that was no longer going to be tolerated.  On the other hand, Karuhe demonstrated mercy, likely realizing that too harsh an approach would bring the wrath of the other powerful nobles.  Nonetheless, he elaborated what each person had done and effectively put them and anyone else harboring thoughts that they could just ignore these edicts on notice.  These reforms weren't going away. So we've talked about where we were and we can see the powers at the Yamato court starting to make changes.  For now, this is probably going to be a good place to take a break for this episode, but there are a lot more of these reforms to get to, not to mention the rest of the intra-palace politicking at the court, as well as the changing situation on the continent and in diplomatic channels.  We are going to keep looking at these changes as we move forward through the period of Great Change, known as the Taika era. Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Welcome to episode 113 of Holly Jolly X'masu! In this special mini-episode, I talk about the 1957 Christmas single from Akihiro Miwa. I hope you enjoyed learning about Akihiro Miwa and listening to his music. His “Jingle Bells” is one of my favorites. Like I said in the episode, I was only able to scratch the surface about all he's been through and accomplished over the years, so be sure to Google him if you want to learn more about him. Join me back here next time when I talk about Teruaki Kawamura's 1963 album, “Merry Christmas Everyone.” It's a fun, Christmas-themed folk dance album released by the Japan Recreation Association. Then join me on the 25th for one of the most sought-after Christmas compilations of the 1960s, “Young Christmas.” It features some great performances by a bunch of young, rising stars. It's a wonderful record, and one you don't want to miss. As always, any feedback on this episode would be appreciated. If have any suggestions, or if you'd like to recommend a song or album for a future episode, drop me a line and let me know. Remember, I've added a button to my Ko-fi page. If you'd like to support me one cup of coffee at a time, a donation is only $3. I've also opened a Redbubble store. I only have a couple designs up, but keep an eye on it as I'll be trying to add more. Half of any proceeds or donations received will be donated to support the people of Ukraine, while the rest will be used to purchase new Japanese Christmas music to review for future episodes. You can also find me on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. And if you get a chance, leave me a review on iTunes. Thanks!

Filling in the rest of Takara's reign with the stories of the various envoys at court, the Baekje princes living in Yamato, and the story of a 7th century millenial cult. For more, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-107   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 107: Winds Across the Straits Villagers gathered near the center of their community.  In contrast to the clean, walled up compounds of the local elites, with their raised floor buildings, the buildings here were much simpler, often sitting directly on the ground, or dug down into the earth in the pit dwelling style that had been used for centuries.  Mostly what anyone would notice were the thatched roofs, which had been used for centuries to keep out the rain and snow.   A tall watchtower was currently unmanned as everyone had gathered around, curious at the news coming from the east. A wandering mystic had come to town, and she was spreading words of hope across the country of Yamashiro.  Over the past few years there had been droughts, famine, earthquakes, and more.  People had tried everything in conjunction with the advice of their local hafuri, or priests. They had petitioned the local kami of the rivers and lakes, they had tried imported practices like sacrificing horses, and at a nearby village they had changed the location of the marketplace to see if that would work. Even when the rains had come, the damage had been done.  Food was scarce, and many of those who had survived were hardly in the best of situations.  Life in the village, working the land, was quite different from the life of the elites.  The wealthy had servants and slaves to tend to their needs, and they had access to stores of grain and other food in times of trouble.  They also had charge of the mononofu—the warriors who worked for them and were often an implicit—if not explicit—threat of violence for anyone who didn't pay their expected taxes.  This is perhaps what made the mystic's message so alluring.  She told them about the teachings of a man from the River Fuji, in the East, named Ohofu Be no Ohoshi:  he claimed to have discovered a new kami, the god of Tokoyo, the Everlasting world.  It was said that those who worshipped this god, who appeared in the land in the form of a caterpillar that thrived on orange tree leaves, would earn great things in this new world, when it came.  The poor would become rich and the old would become young again, when the promises of Tokoyo came to fruition. But it wasn't as easy as just saying some words.  True devotees would need to prove themselves, casting out the valuables of their house and setting out any food on the side of the road.  They would then yell out: “The new riches have come!” Then they were to worship these insects that were the kami's incarnation.  They would put them in a pure place and worship them with song and dance.  Many had already started doing this, the mystic said.  Indeed, the people of Yamashiro had heard rumors of some of these new practices, but only now were learning about why they had arisen.  It was a lot to ask, to give up their valuables and the little food they had — but then again, in this dew drop world, what was there to lose, for those already working themselves to the bone?  Was this any more incredible than asking the hafuri to pray to the kami, or even relying on that new religion in Yamato, where they prayed to giant bronze and gold statues to bring about prosperity and happiness.  Besides, if so many others had joined up already, perhaps there was something to these fantastic stories. And thus, village by village, a new religion began to take hold of the countryside, eventually making its way to the capital of Yamato, itself.     Greetings, listeners!  While the thing we covered last episode -- the Isshi Incident of 645, which is to say the assassination of Soga no Iruka in front of Her Majesty Takara, aka Kougyoku Tenno -- certainly dominates the narrative in the popular imagination for this particular point in Japanese history, there was a lot more going on over these last few years, both over on the continent in the archipelago.  And so this episode we are going to cover some of that:  From the missions from Baekje, Goguryeo, and Silla, which were likely driven by conflict on the peninsula, to the Baekje Princes who resided in the Yamato court as political hostages as well as esteemed guests.  And to finish it off we'll talk about the popular 7th century millennial cult that sprang up in Yamashiro around the worship of the God of Tokoyo, the Everlasting World.  All in the reign of the Empress known to history as Kougyoku Tennou…. At least for now. Michael Como, in his book on Shoutoku Taishi, makes particular note of some of the overarching themes across the straits and how that affected what was happening—or at least what gets remembered—in Yamato.  As we discussed back in episode 98, Como makes the point that the early, opposing Buddhist factions that placed Shotoku Taishi on a pedestal were largely connected with one or more continental factions.  While the Soga were heavily connected with Baekje, other family groups, like the Hata, were more closely tied with Silla, at least according to later accounts. And on top of that, the area around Koshi and Tsunaga had ties with Goguryeo.  As the Tang dynasty and Goguryeo were in contention on their own borders, no doubt both of them and their allies were looking to nearby nations for either support or at least neutrality.  One can also see how peninsular enmities might also make their way across the strait to the archipelago with families of various ethnic backgrounds no doubt carrying on some of the continental prejudices with them even into a new land. A lot of the accounts for this reign that aren't dealing with the weather and natural disasters—topics of particular concern from the 642 to 643—are dealing with the continent. It started out in 642, with Baekje envoys arriving in the first month of that year, apparently to deliver their condolences on the death of the sovereign.  They were accompanied by Yamato's envoy to Baekje, Azumi no Yamashiro no Muraji no Hirafu, who left them at Tsukushi to rush back to Yamato via post-horse, while the Baekje envoys took their time via the normal, ship-borne route. And right off the bat we have a few things of note.  The first is this idea of post-horses.  The various circuits around the archipelago had reportedly been set up some time back, even before horses were a thing.   While a single horse would have been rather fast overland, the mention of post-horse system implies a method of travel more akin to the short-lived pony express in the American west, where various post stations were set up across the major highways so that officials could quickly traverse them, riding horseback from one station to the next, where a fresh horse would be waiting for them.  This way the horses themselves could be properly fed and rested, since no single horse could cover all of the ground in a straight up gallop, just as no person could.  Instead, this is something like a relay race, where the envoy Hirafu became the baton passed from horse to horse.  The Pony Express used stations set up at intervals of approximately 5 to 20 miles, so that the horses could be changed out frequently.  Of course, changing horses would also take some time—I've found some sources citing average speeds of only about 10 miles per hour for the Pony Express, but that beats by far the four miles per hour for a fast walker, not to mention the ability to keep going for much longer than just 8 hours a day.  Of course, he would have had to take a boat for at least some of the journey, likely crossing from Kyuushuu over to Honshuu near Shimonoseki or something similar, at which point he could have caught another horse from there.  The resonates with something that goes back to pre-Qin Dynasty times, when kingdoms on the continent would set up not just courier stations with horses, but systems of canal boats, and inns for people to stay overnight on long journeys.  Still, it must have been a grueling experience. That such a means of conveyance could take Hirafu from Kyushu to Yamato, though, implies that Yamato's reach was fairly solid all the way out to the Dazai near modern Fukuoka, at least.  It is unclear how these post stations were set up in regards to the local Miyake, or royal granaries, another government project we've talked about, but either way it demonstrates a certain degree of control over the region. And so Hirafu was able to make it back to the court in time for the ceremonies associated with the mourning of Tamura, aka Jomei Tennou, and the ascension of Her Majesty, Takara no Ohokimi.  He likewise was able to inform the court of Baekje's condolence envoys' imminent arrival and give the court a head's up on the situation in Baekje, where he said that the country was “greatly disturbed”.  When the Baekje envoys themselves arrived, Azumi no Hirafu, Kusakabe no Iwakane, and Yamato no Aya no Agata were sent to ask them about their news. From what we know in the Samguk Sagi, King Wicha of Baekje had just come to the throne.  The previous king, King Mu, died in the third month of 641, so it hadn't even been a year since his death.  Furthermore, we are told that his wife, the mother of King Wicha, had also passed away.  The Baekje envoys asked for the return of prince Saeseong, possibly the younger brother of Prince P'ung, saying he had behaved badly and they wanted to convey him back to the King, but Takara refused.  Presumably, based on context, this was one of the hostages that Yamato held from Baekje, but why they wouldn't turn them over to the Baekje envoys isn't explained.  I suspect it had something to do with the politics of King Wicha coming to the throne, which seems like it may have not been accepted by everyone, as evidenced by his tour of the realm, mentioned in the Samguk Sagi, which was likely a political move to demonstrate his authority over the realm. This colors a lot of what we are going to talk about, so let's try to get some of it straight off the bat.  Unfortunately, as we talked about in Episode 105, some of the Baekje related dates are questionable, and that means that there is a lot here that I'm going to give you where we may have to back track a bit and see if we can put it in the right order.  I'm going to try to give you the information in largely chronological order according to the Nihon Shoki, but then I'll also try and place it where we think it might actually go, so apologies if this feels disjointed. Also, let me take a moment to talk a little bit more about the Baekje royal family, which will become rather important to our narrative.  For one, there is King Wicha, son of King Mu.  Mu passed away in 640 and Wicha came to the throne.  Wicha already had several children of his own, one of whom, Prince Pung, or Prince Pungjang, will feature heavily in both the Japanese and Korean sources, though as we mentioned in episode 105, the dates around Prince Pung's arrival, which the Nihon Shoki has about 630, doesn't match up with what we know.  We are fairly confident that Prince Pung returned to Baekje in 661, which accords with the Nihon Shoki, Samguk Sagi, and Tang records.  However, Best makes a good case that he didn't actually come over to the archipelago until much later—probably 643. He wasn't the only royal prince of Baekje in Yamato, however.  We are told of two others:  Saeseong and Gyoki.  Saeseong is mentioned as being a bit of a troublemaker, and requested to come home, but Yamato refuses to let him go.  Gyoki is said to have caused trouble and been banished with some 40 others out to sea.  I have a suspicion that much of this is misplaced in the Chronicle.  Saesong may have been there first or perhaps came over with Prince Pung—I've seen him mentioned as the younger brother to Prince Pung, but I also wonder if he wasn't the younger brother to King Wicha.  Gyoki, meanwhile, despite what we initially hear about him, is invited to Yamato shortly after that entry and treated like a real celebrity.  It is unclear to me if he is a younger brother to Wicha or an elder brother to Prince Pungjang, but either way, he seems to have been a royal prince that wasn't quite in line for the throne. I suspect that in reality the mission that is listed as coming in 641 was actually much later—possibly in the 650s.  That would explain some of it, including the gossip that the Senior Counselor, Chijeok, died in the 11th month of the previous year, Aston writes off most of this as an unreliable narrative by servants.  Jonathan Best, in his translation of the Samguk Sagi, is a bit more generous and suggests that, much as with Prince Pung-jang, whom the Nihon Shoki records arriving in the 630s but who couldn't reasonably have arrived until the 640s, there was probably a dating issue.  The scribes were using records with the branch and stem system of dates, and so it could easily have been off by a factor of ten or twelve years, at least.  We know, for instance, that there is a record of Senior Counselor Chijeok in the Nihon Shoki in the 7th month of 642, though it says he died in 641.  Furthermore, we have his name on a fragmentary inscription, likely dating to 654, noting him as a patron of a Buddhist monastery.  So it would seem that word of his death was exaggerated or parts of this are coming from later accounts, and the scribes simply made a mistake.  Hence my suggestion that this entire entry might be misplaced.  If so, it would make more sense for Yamato to be asking about the fates of people that they knew, and hence hearing the fates of Chijeok and Gyoki, who had both visited Yamato and would have been known to the court.   Regardless, it likely was the case, as recorded in the Nihon Shoki, that the envoys' ship was anchored in Naniwa harbor and the envoys were put up at the official government residence there, in modern Ohosaka.  This may indicate that the mission mentioning Chijeok and Gyoki got conflated with other entries about the actual envoys of condolence and congratulations. Then, 19 days later, on the 22nd day of the 2nd month, another group of envoys showed up.  This time it was Goguryeo.  As mentioned, Goguryeo had a few things going on, but they still knew how to make an entrance.  For example, the Chronicles mention that high ministers were sent to the district office in Naniwa to inspect the gold and silver that Goguryeo had sent with their envoys, along with other things from their country.  This may have been them trying to get Yamato on their side. That said, Goguryeo had been going through a lot themselves, we are told.  First off, based on the Samguk Sagi accounts, Goguryeo had sent envoys to the Tang in 640.  In 641, the Tang court returned the favor, and in so doing their envoy, the Director of the Bureau of Operations in their Ministry of War, Chen Dade, used it as a chance to spy out the border region.  At every walled town he would offer the local officials gifts of silk, and ask to be allowed to see the scenic spots.  They let him roam freely, so by the time he went back he had an intimate account and understanding of Goguryeo's defenses along the Tang-Goguryeo border.  Goguryeo seems to have been completely unaware of this touristic espionage, but then again, they may have been distracted dealing with their own internal problems. And so the Nihon Shoki reports that the envoys delivered news of this to the court: How the younger prince of Goguryeo died in the 6th month of 641.  Then, in the 9th month, the Prime Minister murdered the king, along with some 180 people.  He then put the son of the younger prince on the throne as king. In the Samguk Sagi, these events appear to happen a year later.  Yon Gaesomun killed King Keonmu in the 10th month of 642 and put Prince Chang, aka Pojang, on the throne.  The Samguk Sagi says he was the younger brother of King Keonmu, the son of King Taeyang—who was the younger brother of King Yeongnyu, so that may be where the Nihon Shoki gets that he was the “son of the younger prince”.  Still, the gist is correct, even if it seems to be off by a year or so.  From here, Goguryeo would be at war with the Tang dynasty for much of the next thirty years, all under the reign of King Pojang.  They were able to fend the Tang off for a while, but the Tang would eventually ally with Silla, and though Baekje seems to have supported Goguryeo in general, Baekje itself was also caught between the Tang and Silla.  They no doubt hoped for Yamato's aid, but while the archipelago may have had warriors, they were still a good ways from the continent, and would likely need to avoid confrontation with Silla, who now controlled all the way to the Nakdong river basin.  Not that they wouldn't try.  Insert dramatic sound effects alluding to a later episode. All that prognosticating aside, at this point, at least from the envoys' point of view, all of the future was unwritten.  Both Goguryeo and Baekje guests were entertained at the Naniwa district office, and envoys were named to Goguryeo, Baekje, Silla, and to the no longer extant Nimna—the latter seems to have been, at this point, a not-so-polite fiction between Silla and Yamato that Nimna was still at least semi-independent. It was at this time that Gyoki was also brought to Yamato and lodged in the house of Azumi no Hirafu, the previous envoy to Baekje.  Gyoki likely knew Hirafu from his time at the Baekje court.  This was probably the actual arrival of Gyoki, I suspect. A week or so later, the Silla envoys of congratulations and condolence arrived: congratulations on Takara's ascension and then a group of envoys expressing condolence for her husband's death.  They left after less than two weeks—apparently they simply delivered their message and left, unless there was some other reason having to do with the Baekje and Goguryeo envoys being there at the same time.  No mention is made in the Nihon Shoki of exactly why they turned around so quickly. Meanwhile, Gyoki was living it up.  He's referenced as the Chief Envoy from Baekje at this point—probably the highest ranking individual from the court present.  On the 8th day of the fourth month he attended an audience with Her Majesty, Takara, and then two days later he was partying with Soga no Emishi out at his mansion in Unebi.  Soga no Emishi had good conversations and presented a good horse and twenty bars of iron, but curiously the hostage crown prince, Sesaeng, was not invited to any of this. Given that we know what the Chroniclers think of Soga no Emishi, I'm wondering if there isn't a little bit of that same feeling towards Gyoki.  After all, we were previously told he and some 40 others were exiled, so perhaps this is just leading up to that? Gyoki and his companions were later invited to witness an “archery hunt” in front of the Yosami Miyake in Kawachi.  This is glossed as “Uma-yumi” or “Horse-Bow”, leading one to wonder if this was similar to yabusame, the traditional horsed archery, performed at various shrines each year.  Or perhaps it was one of the other archery games from horseback, many of them much less savory, often using a live animal as the target, usually staked or confined to an area, and the archers circle around and shoot at them. By the 5th month of 642 – a little over three months after Baekje had first arrived with envoys of condolences, we are told that a shipp of Baekje envoys anchored together along with the ship of the Kishi family.  This is likely Naniwa no Kishi, as Naniwa no Kishi no Kuhina had been assigned as envoy to Baekje.  The envoys delivered their goods and Kuhina reported on their mission. Once again, the dates look to be slightly off.  Had Kuhina really traveled to Baekje and back in just three months?  It is possible, but not typically how things were done at the time.  Ships often had to take their time, navigating the Seto Inland Sea and then checking in at modern Fukuoka before following the island chains out to Tsushima.  At that point they could sail around Tsushima, or cross at a narrow part of the island, known today as Kofunakoshi.  We know that this was used from at least the 9th century as a place where ships coming to and from the islands would stop, often transmitting their goods to a local ship on the other side, with a crew that presumably better knew the waters and was under the command of the appropriate government.  In addition, as the ships reached various checkpoints they would stop for a while, and often another ship would be sent ahead to prepare the way for an official delegation.  Since they didn't have phones, something like this would have been required to inform the next post to be ready to receive the visitors. More likely, this would have been Kuhina finally ready to depart to take on his mission with Baekje. Shortly after this, we are told that one of Gyoki's companions died, and then his own child died—we aren't told if it was from disease or something else.  It did provide an opportunity to see some of the cultural differences between Baekje and Yamato at the time, as Gyoki and his wife refused to attend the ceremonies for their late son.  The Chroniclers explained that, in Baekje and Silla, when someone dies, the parents, siblings, and spouse were not supposed to look on them again. For what it's worth, I could find no relationship between this and any contemporary Korean practice.  This may have been something in Baekje and Silla that eventually went away.  Then again, it is possible there was something else going on, and it was misinterpreted by the Wa.  Given that the Chroniclers are dismissive of the practice, it is entirely possible that this was just slanderous rumor, too.  The Chroniclers make a point of saying that the people of Baekje and Silla who practice these kinds of death rites are without feeling, and thus no better than animals.  So, yeah, clearly the Chroniclers were presenting just the facts, right? Gyoki's child was buried in Ishikawa in Kawachi, and Gyoki moved his family to a house in Ohowi, in Kudara—which is to say the area of Kawachi named for Baekje. Two months after he lost his son, on the 22nd day of the 7th month, Senior Counsellor Chicheok and colleagues were entertained at the Yamato court.  This is that same Senior Counsellor previously thought to be dead.  Again, Aston simply treats it as gossip, while I tend to wonder if the records aren't out of order—unless Chijeok was some kind of Baekje Benjamin Button.  Entertainment at the Yamato court apparently included havingvarious people wrestle for their entertainment. Even Prince Gyoki himself entered the contest.  When the banquet was finished they went to pay their respect's at Gyoki's compound, likely stopping by and having a bit of a nightcap. Two weeks later the Baekje envoys tried to leave, but the storms kicked up.  One of the ships was wrecked on the shore.  Fortunately, it seems like those on the boat survived and they were placed on another boat a couple weeks later.  A day after that, the Goguryeo envoys left for their own country. The Baekje envoys finally made it back, we are told, 11 days later, on the 26th day of the 8th month.  Not bad given the journey they had to undertake, and actually a bit hard to believe.  In contrast, the Silla envoys, who left in the 3rd month, apparently only made it as far as the island of Iki, between Kyushu and Tsushima, by the 10th month of 642.  Perhaps they were just going at a more leisurely pace, but it does make it hard to trust that all the records were rearranged in precisely the correct order. As for this period, outside of the Silla envoys, the entire episode, starting on the 2nd day of the 2nd month of 642, finally concluded—mostly—over six months later.  It occupies most of that part of Chronicle, with the exception of the accounts of the weather, drought, and famine. After all of these people had returned to the peninsula, the Nihon Shoki focuses on a few local things from the archipelago.  Soga no Emishi was ordered to raise a levy in Afumi and Koshi to build a temple, the court levied various provinces to make ships—we aren't told why but previously this was often something done in preparation for war—and then Takara ordered Soga no Emishi to build a new palace with levies on various provinces and workmen from Toutoumi and Aki.  That was all in the 9th month, at the end of which, we are told that several thousand Emishi from the Koshi region, where Soga no Emishi had been ordered to levy workers for a temple earlier in the month, submitted to Yamato and were entertained at court. Soga no Emishi himself entertained them at his house and asked them about their welfare. This is all a bit confusing, but let's try to understand some of what might be going on.  First, you may recall in the previous reign there was a mention with General Katana who went to the east to subdue an uprising of Emishi there, so it is possible that this is a continuation of that.  At the same time, these Emishi, we are told, are from the land of Koshi. It is likely that this is evidence of Yamato's increased presence in the northern region of the island of Honshi, which stretched along the northern edge of the Chubu, or middle Honshu, region, including the Noto peninsula and eastward to Tohoku, or the Northeast region.  This had been an important area for various resources, including the source of jade magatama, since at least the early days of the Yayoi period, judging from artifacts discovered at various sites.  It is also a region connected to the current dynasty, in that Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, generally seen as the progenitor of the current line of sovereigns, is said to have come from that region. Furthermore, this region is closely connected to various overseas trade routes.  While the most common route we hear about, at least at this point in the chronicles, is the Seto Inland Sea route, there was also a route along the Japan Sea side of Honshu, which included the areas of Izumo and the port of Tsunuga—modern day Tsuruga—which includes the Kehi shrine, purportedly for a kami who came over from the peninsula.  At least one Goguryeo mission explicitly used this route—whether intentionally or otherwise—to get to Yamato, crossing over to Afumi, aka Lake Biwa, and then taking the rivers south to Naniwa. Michael Como suggests that there is enough evidence to suggest a fairly heavy Goguryeo influence in the region.  He also suggests that the Soga had a good deal of interactions and influences themselves with Goguryeo, pointing out that Shotoku Taishi's teacher had supposedly been a monk from Goguryeo, and that the plan for Asukadera, the Soga temple, with three golden halls around a central pagoda, is extremely similar to temple plans found in Goguryeo and not in Silla and Baekje. I do feel it is worth pointing out that it is very possible that this was not Asukadera's original layout, and it is hard to say how much of the stories surrounding Shotoku Taishi we can trust. Still, Koshi was an area that had a long history of trade with the continent, and the ease of the waterways from Yamato to the Japan Sea would have made it at least strategically useful to the growing state. There is another aspect here, but it is a bit more tenuous.  There are some that suggest that Soga no Emishi's own name, or at least the name as it is handed down to us today, comes from his dealings with the Emishi people.  Here we see him intimately involved in Koshi, in the Emishi coming to submit, and him then hosting them in his own house.  So even if his name is coincidental, there does appear to be some connection there. And we are still in the first year of Takara's reign.  It was in this twelfth month that Okinaga no Yamana no Kimi finally pronounced a eulogy for the entire royal line.  As you may recall, Takara's husband, Tamura, aka Jomei Tennou, had been a member of the Okinaga royal line, so this was likely part of the ceremonies around his death and burial. There is more here about the placement of palaces, which we touched on a lot in the last episode.  There is also a lot about storms, weather, and peach blossoms blooming. Then on the thirteenth day of the third month of 643, the second year of Takara's reign, there was a terrible fire in Naniwa.  The official guest quarters for Baekje burned down, and the houses of the common people also caught fire. This is also around the time that Best suggests that Prince Pungjang, son of King Wicha of Baekje, may have actually arrived, as we discussed earlier.  That actually could be tied to events a month later, when the Dazai in Tsukushi—the government outpost on Kyushu—sent a mounted messenger to Her Majesty, Takara, to let her know that Gyoki's younger brother, the son of the King of Baekje, had arrived.  The Baekje ships, which had arrived in the area of modern Fukuoka around the 21st day of the 4th month finally arrived in Naniwa two months later.  Presumably the Baekje envoys' official guest quarters had been repaired or rebuilt at this point, and several high ministers went to inspect the tribute.  They couldn't help but notice that the tribute this time was less—fewer items and of lower quality that previously.  The Envoys promised that they would make up the shortfall. Around all of this, the drama between the Soga, Prince Naka no Oe, and others was playing out, with Iruka attacking and eventually killing Yamashiro no Oe, all of which was discussed in the last episode.  Meanwhile we get a small line about Prince Pung keeping four hives of bees on Mt. Miwa, but apparently they didn't grow large enough to multiply, so that doesn't seem to have taken off. We'll return to Prince Pungjang later.  For now, we have seen much of the disturbances that were caused and eventually led up to the Isshi Incident in 645, and 644 is full of many long entries about everything that happened, but I don't want to worry about that—we covered most of that last episode.  What I do want to concern ourselves with is the story I started the episode with – the curious tale of a man named Ohofube no Ohoshi, who started up his own millennial cult. Now there has been quite a bit of speculation around this episode, especially given that all we really have is a single entry, dated to the 7th month of 644, and here I'll quote Aston's translation:  “A man of the neighbourhood of the River Fuji in the East Country named Ohofu Be no Oho urged his fellow-villagers to worship an insect, saying: "This is the God of the Everlasting World. Those who worship this God will have long life and riches." At length the wizards and witches, pretending an inspiration of the Gods, said:--"Those who worship the God of the Everlasting World will, if poor, become rich, and, if old, will become young again." So they more and more persuaded the people to cast out the valuables of their houses, and to set out by the roadside sake, vegetables, and the six domestic animals. They also made them cry out: "The new riches have come!" Both in the country and in the metropolis people took the insect of the Everlasting World and, placing it in a pure place, with song and dance invoked happiness. They threw away their treasures, but to no purpose whatever. The loss and waste was extreme. Hereupon Kahakatsu, Kadono no Hada no Miyakko, was wroth that the people should be so much deluded, and slew Ohofu Be no Oho. The wizards and witches were intimidated, and ceased to persuade people to this worship. The men of that time made a song, saying: Udzumasa Has executed The God of the Everlasting World Who we were told Was the very God of Gods. This insect is usually bred on orange trees, and sometimes on the Hosoki. It is over four inches in length, and about as thick as a thumb. It is of a grass-green colour with black spots, and in appearance entirely resembles the silkworm.” This is remarkable in several ways.  For one, we get a glimpse of how a popular cult might get started.  Since it is at this same time the cult of Shotoku Taishi is taking hold in some temples, it is interesting to draw parallels between the two.  Como points this out in his book on Shotoku Taishi, and notes several other things.  For one is the discussion of this “ever-lasting world”, or Tokoyo.  We've heard of Tokoyo before – the  term is found in the Chronicles in the section around the Age of the Gods.  Sukuna Bikona himself leaps off to Tokoyo from a blade of grass in one story, much like an insect himself. Tokoyo is a bit mysterious.  It isn't the land of the dead, where Izanami goes to live when she dies in childbirth.  Neither is it the Great Plain of Heaven, Takama no hara, where Amaterasu dwells.  We have the gods of the Heavens and gods of the Earth, but no gods of Tokoyo.  Indeed, Tokoyo is mentioned, but not well described.  By all accounts it would appear to be a place that spirits go after death to an unchanging world, rather than coming back to this one. This fits in with various other continental ideas starting to come over at the time, especially as part of the Mahayana Buddhist tradition, which included a search for effective ways to reach enlightenment.  There had been feelings for some time that humans were already in the latter days of the law, or Mappo: the concept that the further we get from the time of the Buddha, the more morality would decline and the harder it would be for people to break the chains of materialism and desire that hold them to this plane of existence.  As such, some sects and teachers taught simpler and more expedient methods, in an effort to save all of the sentient beings.  Things like an abbreviated mantra that would help you get into a paradise where you could eventually attain enlightenment certainly had its adherents, especially amongst those who might not have the time or inclination to join the monastery themselves.  The idea of a Pure Land, or Joudo, took off early, This Pure Land, is most commonly connected with Amida Butsu, the Amithaba Buddha.  Sutras referencing Amida and the Pure Land were translated by Kumarajiva as early as the 5th century, and may have been part of the larger corpus of scrolls brought over to the archipelago.  According to the sutra, they say that if you honestly chant Amida Butsu's name just once—often through the phrase “Namu Amida Butsu”—then rather than being reborn again into the world on your death, you would instead be reincarnated in a Pure Land, where you could focus entirely on your own enlightenment for however long it would take, removing yourself from the pain and suffering of this world.  This practice was taught by the Sanron school as well as by the Hossou school in the 7th and 8th centuries, along with other practices.  It would continue to be taught, especially developing in the Tendai sect. Of course chanting “Namu Amida Butsu” was something you could do while working the fields, or doing any other number of profane, yet necessary tasks.  So you can see why this was an attractive idea to many people, even if they didn't have the ability to start a temple or study the scriptures or become monks or nuns themselves, at least in this life. Pure Land belief and practices continued to grow and develop in various Buddhists sects, but really took off as an independent practice in Japan in the Kamakura Period, appealing to warriors and commoners alike with its seemingly simple mantra. Shotoku Taishi himself is closely connected to the Pure Land concept, as Como points out.  He and his teacher, Eija, are both said to have attained the Pure Land upon their deaths.  The famous embroidery, commissioned after Shotoku Taishi's death, known as the Tenjukoku Mandala, presumably also describes a country of Heavenly Long Life.  “Tenjukoku” does not have an immediate connection to any particular continental sect or philosophy, but it does seem to be at least a cognate for some of these other ideas such as the Joudo Pure Land OR the Tokoyo of Ohofube no Ohoshi. Whether Ohoshi was, in fact, influenced by other continental ideas is unclear.  We're not even sure if his was the first use of the concept of “Tokoyo” or if that was an idea already planted in the public consciousness by that time—though if so, I would think it would be a bit more widespread.  One could understand, however, how people who had been through famines, floods, earthquakes, disease, and more might find the idea of an eternal ever-after where they could be rich and young again quite inviting.  Enough people found it so that they apparently were willing to give up everything they owned and place it out on the streets.  Even if this wasn't just a scheme to go and scoop up all the goods and skip town, one can see how this may have been viewed as disruptive and unhealthy for the community, at least by those comfortably seated in power, whose workforce was being pulled away from their labors to this new belief system. The ones who were spreading this good news, while called wizards and witches by Aston, use characters that one could just as easily ascribe to Shinto priests and sacred Miko.  Since Shinto wasn't fully formed as we know it today, I think it might be better to say various ritualists and diviners.  Whether they were true believers or simply “pretending” to be inspired, as the Nihon Shoki says, who can say for certain.  What makes one vision more objectively “true” than another, beyond your own belief and faith? And it should be remembered that bringing in new spiritual ideas wasn't, well, new.  That's how Buddhism got started, and likely was one of the ways that Yamato itself expanded its own influence.  How many other quote-unquote “cults” like this existed, and how many were absorbed into the establishment and how many were cast aside? In this case, it would seem that Ohoshi's main problem was likely that he was attracting the wrong sorts of people, which is to say he was appealing to commoners.  In the Warring States period, we would see a not dissimilar dynamic with the independent Joudo Shinshu, a sect of Pure Land Buddhism, supporting commoners in what became known as the ikkou ikki.  They formed communities that helped each other, but at the same time bucked the yoke of the local daimyo and others.  This would bring about violent retribution from warlords like Oda Nobunaga, who wasn't having any of it. Similarly, as the Tokoyo sect spread into Yamashiro and down into the capital region, Kadono no Hata no Miyatsuko no Kawakatsu decided to take matters into his own hands.  Ostensibly, he was upset that people would be so deluded, and under that pretext, he had Ohoshi killed and his followers intimidated.  Cutting the head off the snake, as it were, caused the body to wither, and apparently the Tokoyo cult was not so everlasting after all. And here's where we bring things back around.  You may recall Hata no Kawakatsu, or at least his family.  The progenitor of the Hata family was called Uzumasa, and even today their name is affixed to an area of Kyoto, which was built in the old Hata territory.  Hence the poem about Uzumasa executing the God of the Everlasting World. That area, from Lake Biwa down to Naniwa, is on that corridor from Yamato to Koshi.  The Hata themselves are connected with the continent—especially with Silla.   The Hata temple of Kouryuuji even has a Silla image said to have been obtained by Shotoku Taishi and given to them.  Along with Shitennoji, it is one of several Silla-influenced temples that helped promote the cult of Shotoku Taishi.  It is, of course, possible that we are reading way too much into this.  Some of these things could just be coincidence, but then again, why was it written down and why did the Chroniclers feel that it was important to spend ink on the process?  That's the real question here.   And what more was going on that never got written down, or at least not clearly?  It is likely that we will never truly know the answer to all of these questions.  Unless some ancient documents are found from the period that miraculously survived, with significantly different stories, it would be hard to say much more, but that doesn't mean we can't wonder. But that's all we'll do for now.  At this point, I think we've covered these years from 642 to 645 as best we could, and it is probably time to move on.  I'm not going to prognosticate on next episode just yet, other than to say that we will eventually need to talk about the Taika Reforms—the Great Change.  But that may take a little more time to research so that we can do it properly, but we'll see. Until then, thank you for listening and 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.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

This episode we look at the reign of Tamura, aka Jomei Tenno. For references and more, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-105   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 105: Onsen and Uprisings The general paced back and forth behind the walls of the fortress.  Glancing around, he couldn't help but notice how empty it now seemed.  The palisades were holding, but most of the soldiers had gone, disappearing in the night.  Outside the walls of the fortress, he could hear the Emishi laughing and singing.  They were in good spirits—and why wouldn't they be?  The great army of Yamato sent to chastise them had been routed, and they had besieged them in their fortress, built in these still wild lands of northeastern Honshu, on the edge of an area known to many as Michi no Oku, roughly: the end of the road. And for the general, it looked like this might be the end of the road for him.  His options were limited, and he was clearly outnumbered.  It was beginning to look like his troops had the right idea.  Of course, it meant leaving his wife and other women to fend for themselves, but fear can do a lot to motivate someone.  The general eyed the walls and the trees beyond.  If he could slip past the besieging forces in the darkness, perhaps he could escape.  It wouldn't be the most honorable way out of this situation, but it would at least leave him with his head.  And so, as night fell, he decided to make his move… Greetings everyone, and welcome back!  Before I get into it, a quick shout out an thank you to YamiRaven for supporting us on Patreon, and thanks to Johnny for a supporting us on Ko-Fi.com.  If you'd like to join them, and help us keep this thing going, we'll have more info at the end of the episode. Speaking of: This episode we are going to be talking about events during the reign of Prince Tamura, also known as Okinaga Tarashi-hi Hiro-nuka, or by the name given to him by the 8th century chroniclers: Jomei Tennou.  As we discussed back in episode 103, Prince Tamura came to power in an interesting turn of fate.  The grandson of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tenno, his father, Prince Hikobito no Ohoye was killed during the tumultuous period following Nunakura's death.  After several short-lived reigns, it was Kashikiya Hime, wife to Nunakura, who took the throne, known to us as Suiko Tennou. Kashikiya Hime had named an heir, Crown Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, but he died before she did and by the time that Kashikiya Hime passed away, there was nobody clearly set up to take the throne, though two candidates did stand out.  There was Prince Yamashiro no Ohoye, the son of Crown Prince Umayado, whom a strict lineal succession might seem to indicate was next up to inherit, but Yamato inheritance tradition was not so cut and dried.  Soga no Emishi, the son of Soga no Umako, the powerful Oho-omi who helped run the government during Kashikiya Hime's reign, campaigned to put Prince Tamura on the throne, rather than Yamashiro no Ohoye, despite—or perhaps because of—the fact that Yamashiro no Ohoye was actually a close relative to Emishi. Now Prince Tamura was on the throne and Soga no Emishi was the Oho-omi, taking his father's place. And yet, despite the chaotic start to the reign in 629, the majority of it was almost tame and nondescript.  Don't get me wrong, Tamura, as I'll keep referring to him, was on the throne for a respectable thirteen years, and during that time there were certainly events that move our narrative forward in many ways.  However, much of the years of his reign are filled with discussions of things like rain storms and celestial phenomena.  In fact, the only thing that apparently happened in all of 634 was that they saw a comet in the sky.  The year before that, in 633, the only entry was the return of envoys from the Tang.  For two years, then, there is hardly a mention of politics and anything else going on.  And yet, this is a period that would set the stage for what was coming next. Shortly after Tamura was appointed sovereign, he appointed his consort, Princess Takara, as his queen.  Takara was, herself, a great-great grand-daughter of Nunakura Futodamashiki, a granddaughter of Prince Hikobito and daughter of Prince Chinu—presumably niece to Tamura, then, which is basically par for the course.  She was also a royal descendant on her mother's side, tracing back to Nunakura's father, Ame Kuniyoshi, aka Kinmei Tennou.  In fact, her mother, Kibitsu Hime, is said to have been buried in her own kofun at the head of Ame Kuniyoshi's kofun—and today it is the site of the 7th century saruishi figures that I mentioned in the talk about traveling around Asuka. Takara would give birth to three children of note.  The first was her eldest son, Prince Katsuraki, who would, spoiler alert, later be known as Crown Prince Naka no Ohoye.  He was around three years old when his father took the throne.  He had a sister by Takara, named Hashibito, and a brother, whose name you may have heard me mention previously:  Oho-ama. Yes, Naka no Ohoye and Oho-ama are the future sovereigns Tenji and Temmu, but for now they are still relatively young.  In fact, Oho-ama wouldn't be born until several years into his father's reign, in 631. Some of the early events of the reign were carryover from Kashikiya Hime's time on the throne.  In 629, for instance, Tanabe no Muraji went to Yakushima, returning the following year, and with people coming to Yamato from Yakushima the year after that. There were also a fair number of foreign embassies, including an Embassy from Goguryeo and Baekje.  These may have been missions of condolences and congratulations—typical international diplomacy at the time when a neighboring ruler passed away and a new one ascended the throne, it would seem.  They arrived in the third month of 630 and departed in the 9th month of that same year—a 6 month visit, all told. We also have the first actual account of ambassadors sent off to the Tang dynasty: Inugami no Mitasuki and Yakushi no E'nichi, each of Dainin rank.  These are some of the first true kentoushi, or Ambassadors to the Tang court, that were sent, but over time their influence would be felt across Yamato and the archipelago. These ambassadors—or at least Mitasuki—would return in 632 with a Tang ambassador, Gao Biaoren, along with student-priests Ryou'un and Soumin, as well as Suguri no Torikahi.  Perhaps most tellingly, they would arrive with Silla escort envoys, which would seem to indicate that passage to the Tang court was not done without Silla's assistance.  As you may recall, Silla had entered into a nominal alliance with the Tang against Goguryeo.  The Tang Ambassadors eventually reached Naniwa, where they were met with boats decked out with drums, flutes, and flags, and where they exchanged formal greetings before being escorted into the official residence.  The Nihon Shoki takes pains to note the different individuals involved in the duties, from the initial greeting, guiding them to the residence, and then preparing them in the residence, along with a welcome drink of sake brewed on temple rice land. And then, three months later, they depart once more.  Nothing else is said of their visit. Meanwhile, in the time between when Mitasuki went to the Tang court and when he returned with Gao Biaoren and company, a few things had happened.  For one we get a note about Tamura moving to a new palace complex known as Okamoto no miya, supposedly at the foot of Asuka hill, hence the name, which means “foot of the hill”.  This would not have been much of a change from Kashikiya Hime's palace, still within the sacred area defined by the Soga temple of Asukadera as well as various other temples being stood up in that area as well.  A move was to be expected, though in this case it is interesting that he didn't go very far. There is also mention, still in 630, of the repairing the official residences in Naniwa where ambassadors from the continent would be quartered during their trips to Yamato 631 opens with something of a treat – so it would seem, anyway.  We are told that in the third month of Tamura's third year on the throne, Prince Pung—named Pungjang in the Chronicles—was sent to the Yamato court by his father, King Wicha of Baekje.  On the one hand, the Korean sources do agree that Prince Pung was, indeed, sent to Yamato, where he would live as a guest and diplomatic hostage.  We've talked about this practice in the past, which seems to have strengthened bonds between nations, although we rarely hear of Yamato returning the favor by sending hostages to the continent.  It may have also helped keep a potential heir out of harm's way in case of a coup or other such politics.  Several times, heirs returned to Baekje to be enthroned with Yamato assistance, if the Chronicles are to be believed. Except that this entry is probably not quite right.  You see, Wicha wouldn't even come to the throne until 641—he wasn't even made Crown Prince until 632—so why would he send his son as a diplomatic hostage in 631?  Johnathan Best, translating the Baekje records of the Samguk Sagi, suggests that perhaps the Chroniclers were off by a factor of 10 or 12 years.  You see, as we mentioned earlier, the East Asian calendrical system was based on a series of ten stems and twelve branches.  The stems represented the elemental forces, and the branches were identified with the twelve signs of the zodiac.  Incrementing each one each year led to a series of 60 years before it started repeating, and based on the way that the records for this reign are dated, it looks like the records the Chroniclers were drawing from used this system for their dates.  However, if you misread—or even miswrite—one of these characters it can change your date by ten or even twelve years.  It would make much more sense for Prince Pung to have arrived twelve years later, in 643.  Similarly, we find other records, particularly having to do with Baekje, which may be a bit jumbled, possibly indicating they came from a similar source that either had things in the wrong chronological order or was simply vague or poorly scribed so that the Chroniclers had to figure out exactly what was happening when—which they may have made mistakes with, from time to time. So Prince Pung arriving as a hostage is probably misplaced, and likely didn't happen during Tamura's reign.  Which means that other than people from Yakushima showing up in 631 the only other major event of the year was Tamura going to the hot springs of Arima, in Settsu, where he stayed for about three months. Now I know I've mentioned hot springs, or onsen, before in the narrative.  After all, the volcanic islands that make up the Japanese archipelago are full of them, and it isn't like they were suddenly discovered during this reign, but it does look like this might be the first formal mention of them in the Nihon Shoki—which gives Arima, in the mountains north of Kobe, some serious bona fides to be considered the oldest known hot spring town in Japan. And that would be a cool side note in most reigns, but for Tamura it seems to have been a habit.  He apparently went for a dip at least three times in his reign—the second time, in 638, he apparently went to the “Arima no Miya”, or the Arima Palace, which suggests that he had something built specifically for his visits.  And then, in 639, he headed to the hot springs in Iyo. The country of Iyo is better known today as Ehime prefecture, on the western edge of the island of Shikoku.  The largest city in Ehime is Matsuyama, home to the famous Dougou Onsen, which also lays a claim to being the oldest operating hot springs in the archipelago.  Dougou Onsen is not only the traditional place in Iyo where Tamura, aka Jomei Tennou, took the waters, as they might say in the west, but in the Iyo Fudoki it is said that its fame goes back even further.  As we mentioned back in Chapter 18, it is said that the legendary figures Ohonamuchi and Sukuna Bikona met there, back in ancient times.  In more recent times, relatively speaking, Dougou Onsen was the inspiration behind the fantastical bathhouse created by Hayao Miyazaki in the Studio Ghibli film, Spirited Away. For all that these visits to the hot springs are somewhat interesting, they don't exactly tell us a lot about what was happening with government, and in fact tend to make it seem almost as though Tamura was skipping out, at least in the fall to early winter.  And to be honest, can you blame him?  Winter is one of the best times to go take advantage of the volcanic springs. Many of the other records appear to be natural phenomena, mostly having to do with the heavens: rain, storms, lightning, and more.  Some of the more intriguing are comets—stars with “long tails” that appeared in the skies.  There are also mentions of eclipse and what may have been a meteor—a star in 636 “floated east to west, with a noise like thunder.”  The Priest Soumin, from the Tang, said it was the sound of the Celestial Dog, a creature from the ancient Han or possibly pre-Qin text, the Classic of Mountains and Seas, a fantastical account of mythical geography and various animals, including the nine tailed fox and the celestial dog, whose bark was said to be like Thunder.  This book was considered to be a true account up through the Tang dynasty. One could probably track the celestial phenomena and see if there is any correlation with known sightings, but it is also just as likely that some of it was taken from continental records and inserted into the Chronicles as appropriate. Besides such phenomena, there were accounts of more missions, especially from Baekje.  Yamato was still using the cap rank system attributed to Prince Umayado during Kashikiya Hime's reign, and some of the envoys were given cap rank, or granted a promotion—a gesture that was likely pure diplomacy, as the rank wouldn't necessarily convey any special rights back in their home country. There are a few more things of note.  First, in 636, we are told that all those who had affairs with the uneme at court were put on trial and punished—which likely means they were put to death.  The uneme, as you may recall, were women sent to serve at the court, and as such they were apparently off-limits, at least while they were serving.  That clearly didn't stop people from having some late night escapades, though. The main reason it likely comes up, though, is that we are told that one of the accused was a man named Miwa no Kimi no Osazaki, and that he took his own life by stabbing himself in the throat because the examination—by which I'm sure they meant torture—was too much to bear.  And here I have to wonder how similar Yamato's sense of justice was to that of their neighbor, the Tang dynasty.  In the case of the latter, there was often a suspicion that any person accused of a crime must be guilty of at least something—after all, why would they have been accused if they didn't do something to upset the peace, even if it was just that they didn't get along with their neighbors.  It was considered de rigeur to submit suspected criminals to torturous ordeals with the idea that this would elicit a confession.  Unfortunately, this idea that harsh and torturous examinations can be used to uncover the truth often still persists, despite evidence that, under enough duress, most people will say anything.   In this case, it drove Osazaki to take his own life. Later in that same year, the Okamoto palace caught fire and burned down, and so Tamura moved to a new palace, called the Tanaka palace, or the Palace in the Middle of the Rice Fields.  We also have a little more court action, as Prince Ohomata, a son of Nunakura Futodamashiki by one of his consorts, reached out to Soga no Emishi—called in this record the Toyoura no Oho-omi, likely because his mansion was in or near Toyoura, in Asuka. Prince Ohomata suggested to Soga no Emishi that the ministers had not been attending court properly.  He suggested that they should be there by roughly 5 or 6 AM—an hour before daybreak—and they should stay until 10 or 11 AM.  Specifically he mentioned the hour of the hare and the hour of the serpent, as each ancient hour was actually two, with twelve hours making up the day, each named for one of the twelve signs of the Asian zodiac. To enforce all of this, Ohomata also recommended having a bell rung that would let people know that it was time to start or end work.  This was all common practice in the continental courts of the day, and it wasn't like they were asking for a modern 40 hour work week, even:  the court ministers would literally be serving for maybe 5 to 6 hours at court, with the rest of the time to handle their own affairs.  Still, Soga no Emishi apparently didn't think much of the idea and so was not inclined to support it. All of this is kind of an odd mention.  First, Ohomata is an obscure Prince—he's only mentioned three times in the Chronicles, and once just in a list of Nunakura's children.  Second, the idea doesn't go anywhere.  Third, they don't call Soga no Emishi by the name they used in both the previous or the next reign, but use Toyora no Ohoomi, for whatever reason.  It just sticks out as odd, and I wonder if it was added to show that Soga no Emishi was resistant to change and new ideas. At the same time, it does give us a clue that Soga no Emishi was still running things.  His name may not have been on a lot, but then again, neither was Tamura's, so we can only infer what was actually going on during this period.  It's  almost a lacuna in the history. There were a few other events worth noting, however, one of which took more than a bit of the Chroniclers' ink, and this was a rebellion by the Emishi people. First off, because it can be confusing:  There is no apparent link between Soga no Emishi and the Emishi people that I'm aware of.  Emishi, of course, is the name given to the people living outside of the Yamato cultural sphere in the northeast, from modern Ibaraki prefecture north.  They were apparently expected to pay tribute at court, and are clearly treated differently from other outside groups, like Baekje and Silla.  Some of them were likely members of the groups that had lived in the region since the Jomon period, who never fully adopted the Yayoi and later Kofun lifeways, and they may be related to the Ainu people who still live in modern Hokkaido, though there is also evidence that some of the Emishi may have been ethnic Wa people who had gone to live outside the Yamato court's reach—though that is more evident in later centuries than in the current narrative. I would also note that “Emishi” is an exonym—that is a name given by outsiders, in this case, by the Wa people of Yamato.  In fact, other than what we can see in the archaeological record, what we know of the Emishi comes from Yamato sources, which are almost entirely biased.  We don't really have any good telling of their story from their own perspective.  For instance,did they feel oppressed by Yamato in general, and not think they should have to keep bringing tribute?  Or was there a more specific event that occurred, much like the conflicts we see later between the Wajin, the ethnic Japanese, and the Ainu up in Hokkaido? It is unclear. To subdue the Emishi, and bring them back under Yamato hegemony, the court appointed Kamitsukeno no Kimi no Katana, a courtier of Dainin cap rank, as general. Spoiler alert: he's the general in the story at the beginning of this episode.  Based on his name, it would seem he was from the family in charge of Kamitsukenu, later shortened to Kozuke Province in modern Gunma prefecture, north of Tokyo.  As such, he would have been well positioned to know something of the Emishi on his border.  That said, he apparently didn't know them so well that it gave him an advantage.  His forces were routed and they retreated back to their fortress, where they were besieged by the Emishi. Now when I say “fortress” please don't picture some grand castle, like Himeji, Azuchi, or Matsumoto.  In fact, don't really picture a castle at all.  More likely than not, this was simply an area enclosed by a wall—possibly some earthworks and maybe a moat, but perhaps just a quickly erected palisade structure.  True castle structures wouldn't come until later.  For those familiar with American history, this may have been something like the fort at Jamestown or even the quickly assembled and ill-fated Fort Necessity—though perhaps a little larger if it was capable of housing the forces and the noncombatants that had accompanied them. And so, when some of Katana's soldiers decided they didn't really want to be there any longer they apparently just up and left.  Presumably they found a time when nobody was looking and just yeeted themselves over the walls and did their best to hide from the surrounding Emishi forces.  Pretty soon just about all of the able-bodied soldiers had taken this approach, and Katana was thinking about joining them.  In fact, he was getting ready to when his own wife noticed what he was doing. That's right, his wife was there with him.  Whether she was a combatant or simply part of the train it isn't entirely clear, but she wasn't going to have her husband run off and abandon his post.  She poured out sake for him to drink and as he did so, she took his sword and girded it to herself.  She then went and found all of the bows and handed them out to all of the other women and people who had been left behind when the soldiers deserted, and they started pulling the bowstrings back and making a sound like they were being shot. Upon seeing this, Katana roused himself, grabbed a weapon himself, and advanced out of the fortress. The besieging Emishi were not sure what to make of this.  They could hear the twang of bows, and it sounded as though there was quite a force, so as general Katana stepped out of the fortress they pulled back, thinking that there was a much bigger force than he actually had.  As they did that, some of Katana's own forces, who had escaped, but not too far, started to gain hope.  They regrouped and attacked the Emishi with fresh energy, eventually defeating them. Of course, Katana's wife remains nameless throughout this whole episode, even though she was the one who helped turn the tide—first by turning her husband, but then by organizing the others to make it seem like they had a lot more people than they did. After this fascinating story, the Chronicles getback to the normal records of storms, of fruit trees blossoming, of hot springs, and tribute.  It wasn't until two years later, in 639, that we get something interesting that we might easily overlook.  This was the start of a new temple on the banks of the Kudara River, known to us as Kudara dera, or Kudara Temple. Kudara Temple is definitely a bit of an enigma.  It is mentioned quite heavily in later records, and yet it would eventually disappear without a trace, or so it seemed.  It wasn't until modern times that archaeologists identified a temple that we believe is Kudara dera.  We are told that it had a nine-story pagoda, which may reflect ideas from Tang or Silla practice—somewhat ironic given that “Kudara” is a name used to refer to Baekje.  In this case, the name seems to have come from the Kudara River, on whose banks the temple was built.  From the 80s through the 2000s there were a series of excavations at the site of Kibi Pond north of Asuka, closer to the center of Sakurai.  Here a temple was found, which we believe to be the site of Kudara dera.  The pond itself was dug at a later point in time, on the site of the temple, which was likely moved.  Today, there is a small Kudara temple to the northwest of the old site, but it isn't nearly as grand as it once was. By all accounts, the construction of Kudara temple took years, in contrast to the building of royal palaces, which went up relatively quickly.  This is because the palaces, for all of their size, were still being made using largely local construction methods.  Posts were placed directly into the ground and the roofs were thatched.  Being made of wood, these buildings went up relatively quickly, which was good seeing as how every reign the sovereign and court would move to a new palace.  Of course, I also wonder if the tradition of moving didn't come from the fact that the palace would likely have started rotting away on its own after a while.  Then again, even in a single reign you might change palaces multiple times, as Tamura did. In contrast, we have temple construction from the mainland.  Here, rocks were set down, and the posts were placed on those, which gave a firm foundation and prevented water from easily getting in and ruining the base of the pillar.  Packed earth and stone construction were used in places, along with heavy tile roofs, for which thousands of rooftiles had to be constructed.  Centuries of architectural knowledge were used to design and create structures that were meant to outlast any patrons who helped to build them. Add on to that the nine story pagoda.  If you consider that the beautiful and imposing tenshukaku, or main keep, of Himeji castle, built in the early 17th century, is six stories and rises over 46 meters, or about 152 feet, this pagoda may have been about the same height or even a bit higher, assuming that relative proportions were similar to those in other pagodas from the time, such as that of Yakushiji.  It must have been a towering beacon at the time, and the temple is considered one of the four great temples of the Asuka era, at least by some. That this temple was commissioned by Tamura and not by Soga no Emishi is something that may indicate some unspoken tensions at the time.   Tamura's previous palaces were in Asuka, near Asuka temple, the chief temple of the Soga family, and situated in a Soga stronghold.  Kudara temple was built significantly outside of this area, though still within walking distance, so not so far as to be a complete move—it isn't like he moved it up to lake Biwa or anything, wink wink. In 640, Tamura returned from his trip to the hot springs in Iyo—again, modern Ehime prefecture—and came back to a new palace at Umayazaka, but just six months later he moved into the Kudara palace, which was presumably nearby Kudara temple, effectively moving the court out of—or at least to the periphery of—Soga controlled territory. Unfortunately, his stay at Kudara palace would only last about a year, as he passed away there in the 10th month of 641.  He was roughly 48 years old.  His son, and heir apparent, Prince Hirakasuwake, aka Naka no Oe, pronounced the funeral elegy. And just like that, the throne was vacant again.  There was an heir apparent, but Naka no Oe was only 16 years old, and so his mother, Takara, would take the throne, presumably until he was ready.  She would be known as Ame Toyo Takara Ikashi-hi Tarashi Hime, aka Kougyoku Tennou, and her reign was anything but quiet.  To give some context: if we had a little over 50 or so events recorded during the 13 years that Tamura was on the throne, while we have over 60 events recorded in just the first year of Takara's reign.   So, you know, there's that. But I'm going to have to ask you to wait a little bit for us to dig into that.  For one thing, the politics are going to start getting hot and heavy, as anyone who may recognize the name “Naka no Oe” likely knows.  As this young prince was coming into his own he was going to come face to face with the power of the Soga family.  All that, starting next episode. Until then, thank you for listening and 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.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for her work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Welcome to another bonus episode, where we take a break from the main narrative and discuss some of the modern locations where this happened.  In this case, I'm talking about a trip I took around the Nara Basin, specifically focusing on the area of Asuka, where the Asuka Period gets its name. We will have some photos of the places and things I mention this episode up on the podcast website: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-nara-part2 Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan!  My name is Joshua and this is Traveling Through the Nara Basin, Part II This episode, I'd like to pause in our narrative to take you on a journey through the modern landscape of Asuka.  This is a continuation from episode I did last year covering travels around the southeastern edge of the Nara Basin, from Tenri down to Miwa.  I'm going to skip over some of the sites in Kashihara—we may save that for a discussion of the Fujiwara palace that was there—and head straight to Asuka. Standing at the southern end of Asuka, at the site of the ruins of the Itabuki palace, looking north, with the hills at your back the view is rather bucolic.  Between the hills on either side of the valley, one can see rice fields spreading out.  Along the western edge, the narrow  Asuka-gawa winds along the base of the hills on its way north, joining with the Yamato river in the heart of the Nara Plain, far from view.  Along the eastern hills are various houses, heading out to a cluster around the current precincts of Asukadera. It is a far cry from the ancient capital it once was.  The large mansions and palaces that once filled the landscape are gone, their traces often lying beneath the rice paddies.  Amongst the hills, ancient tumuli still look down over the valley below, some with their contents ripped open—whether by man or nature—for all to see.  At the end of the Asuka period, the capital would move—first just a short hop away to the plains of Kashihara, to the north, but eventually up to Heijo-kyo, in modern Nara city.  A century later the capital would move north, settling in Heian-kyo, aka modern Kyoto city. Asuka, in turn, remained largely untouched by the urbanization that would take place in many of the large cities.  As the capital moved farther away—to Kashihara, then Nara, then Kyoto—Asuka was left behind.  The temples and buildings succumbed to time, and no great settlement sprung up in its place.  There were castles built on strategic hills by local lords, but much of the land remained rural Asuka would never be quite the same, a fact that would be of some relief to archaeologists and students of history in later centuries.  The lack of urbanization meant that traces of those ancient times—at least those underneath the layers of soil overturned by farming—do remain. Asuka is believed to have been a stronghold for the powerful Soga clan.  By rising through the ranks, marrying into the royal family, and supporting the winning side in various succession crises—not to mention their ties to the exotic Buddhist religion—they were able to make themselves into the most powerful family in Yamato, second only to the sovereign, and their stronghold of Asuka became the site of the palace building for at least four sovereigns.  It was also the home to some of the first permanent Buddhist temples, so it is the stage for much of what plays out in the late 6th to 7th centuries. For anyone planning a visit, the first thing you should know is that Asuka is still quite rural.  There are a few train lines that you can take nearby—the Kintetsu line Asuka station is probably the closest for most things, but since I was also visiting the Fujiwara palace ruins I rode into Kaguyama station on the JR line early in the morning. And so I entered Asuka from the north, passing by Kaguyama, one of the three sacred mountains of Kashihara.  Near Ikatsuchi, I followed a small road that cut across rice paddies just north of the presumed site of Kashikiya Hime's Oharida palace.  This is the palace she moved to in the latter part of her reign, giving over the site of Toyoura, to the southwest, for a nunnery. Making my way through the open rice paddies, I reached a small neighborhood on the other side.  The buildings were a mix of new and old, but nothing quite as old as what I was looking for.  I continued on, making my way to the Asuka Historical Museum.  This is an excellent museum for anyone interested in the area, with examinations of various temple ruins, kofun, and more.  Outside, there are numerous copies of the various stone figures that dot the landscape here in Asuka, such as the Saruishi, or Monkey stones. These stones are a bit enigmatic.  There is no clear relationship between the origin of most of the stones and any particular event that I could see in the Nihon Shoki or elsewhere.  The saruishi were discovered by farmers in their fields in 1702, near Umeyama kofun, and eventually moved to their current location at the site of Kibi Hime's tomb, outside of the giant keyhole shaped tomb for Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou.   They are called “monkey” stones, or Saru-ishi, because people thought they resembled monkeys, but in truth they are probably just carvings meant to represent people.  Scholars believe that they probably date back to the latter half of the 7th century, and may have been carved by immigrant Baekje artisans, based on their similarity to statues found on the Korean peninsula, but this is all conjecture.  The originals are viewable from behind a fence, but at the Asuka Historical Museum you can get up close and personal to them and really see the details—at least what hasn't eroded away. There is also the Kameishi, or turtle stone, which you can go see, but which also has a replica at the museum.  There are stories about this giant stone, carved to look like a turtle, but its exact purpose is unknown. There are also reconstructions of various kofun stone chambers, so you can see what is inside some of the large mounds, as well as stone fountains and water works, demonstrating not just the skill of the artisans of that era, but also their ability to harness the flow of water back in that time. Inside, much of the information in the museum is in Japanese, but there are English descriptions of artifacts and some contextualization, but if you don't read Japanese and are interested in what they have to say about the palace and temple ruins then a translation app is your friend.  In fact, it is generally recommended for any travel where you may be in need of translation, these days. Inside the museum, they go over the layouts of some of the later palaces, especially the Okamoto, Itabuki, and Kiyomihara palace sites, for which at least the inner court area is fairly well defined.  They also take a look at temple structures and the various continental influences, as well as a reconstruction of a water clock described by the Nihon Shoki during the reign of the sovereign known as Saimei Tennou—rest assured we will talk more about that at a later date. They also have a good look at the inside of the Kitora tomb's burial chamber, recreated for you.  The Kitora kofun and the Takamatsuzuka kofun are two of the most famous kofun in the area, but not necessarily for who was buried there.  Both of them have been opened, and inside it wasn't just grave goods, but they found painted chambers.  In the Kitora kofun we find the directional guardian animals.  These are four mythical beasts that represented North, South, East, and West, and they were Genbu, the Black Turtle of the North; Suzaku, the Red Bird of the South; Seiryuu, the Blue—or Green—Dragon of the East; and Byakkou, the White Tiger of the West.  In this case, since the tomb was opened from the south, only three of the paintings were visible, and the east and west walls were not in great shape, but it was still legible.  They are doing their best to preserve these paintings, and the museum only has copies, but it still helps to understand the time period.  The burial probably took place in the 7th or 8th century, and has been suggested that it was a high ranking noble or royal prince—or possibly even a high ranking person from the continent. Takamatsuzuka, on the other hand, has even more detailed murals from the late 7th or early 8th century.  The murals include the directional animals, but also pictures of courtiers dressed in the continental fashion.  The murals resemble those found in Goguryeo, and again, there are still many questions about just who was buried there.  Both the Kitora and Takamatsuzuka kofun are round kofun, and not especially large or prominent compared to some of the giant keyhole shaped kofun or previous eras, but the decoration and grave goods suggest people of status in both cases.  Also, since Takamatsuzuka gives us some of our only clothing evidence from this period, and it holds similarities to what we know of Nara and later Heian era clothing, it is often used as a key reference point when looking at the clothing and culture of this time.  The Takamatsuzuka kofun is only a short distance from the Asuka train station, but I did not visit this trip as I had been there many years prior, and I do recommend it if you get the chance.  Kitora kofun is a little more out of the way, but still doable, especially if you have more than a day to wander around the area. In addition to the tombs, the museum has a large exhibit on Asuka era temples, including a section of wooden wall from a building at nearby Yamadadera.  This section was found in 1980—apparently it had collapsed onto the ground and been covered up, as much of the wood was still preserved.  The section is dated to be even older than the oldest extant buildings of Houryuuji, and it gives a great example of the construction techniques of the time.  Since they didn't have glass windows, we see them using vertical wooden bars.  You can still see this on old style buildings and galleries, where a pole with a square cross-section will be tilted like a diamond and placed in the windows, creating a series of wooden bars that let in light, but still act as a barrier to entry.  This only really works on external walls, unless you have another kind of shutter to put over them, but it is effective.  We also have other items from the temple, including the head of a bronze Buddha statue. From what we can tell, this was another Soga family temple.  It is mentioned in the “Joguuki”, the biography of Shotoku Taishi, as well as in the Nihon Shoki. It is also a short walk from the museum, and an easy visit.  Warning, though, there isn't a lot to see on the site.  The outline of the temple and the various buildings is visible, and you can see how they lined up and get a sense of the approach, but it is fairly sparse.  There is a modern temple on the site—Yamadaji, or, read another way, Yamadadera.  It is not nearly as grand as the original, and is more like a rural, neighborhood temple.  During the Asuka period, Yamadadera likely attracted attention from far and wide as one of the chief temples of the capital. Speaking of temples, I next turned back down the road and headed towards Asukadera.  On the way isare the  Ishigami site an theand Mizuochi sites, next to the Asuka district    Exhibition Room of Archaeological Cultural Assets.  The Ishigami site is a section of the stone pathways near an ancient guesthouse.  Nearby is the Mizuochi site, which has been speculated to be the site of the water clock I mentioned earlier.  There was a moat for catching and holding water, as well as various pipes for getting the water up to the clock.  The clock itself contained several different buckets at different levels, so that a hole poked in the top bucket drained into the one below and then the one below that.  The idea was that the water would flow at a fairly constant rate, and that could be used to tell the time.  At the bottom was a float with an image of an official who held a ruler.  The ruler would rise with the float and thus indicate the time.  This was a great innovation as it would work even when the sun was not out, but it would need to be reset each day at a specific time to ensure that it was accurate. As for the nearby Exhibition Room—it is free, and so worth a look around.  Much of what is there is the same as the Asuka Historical Museum, but there are a few differences.  It is only a single room, so an easy in and out, and you can grab a bite or something to drink before you head on, so worth the stop if you are passing by, but if you are short on time you could easily give it a miss, as well. Continuing up the valley, to the south, I next stopped at Asukadera.  I approached from the west, though the parking lot and main entrance is to the east.  At the western edge there was a memorial for the Soga family members—more on that as we get back to the episodes.  You can also see where the gates and walls used to be, though now the temple itself is much reduced.  You no longer have the original footprint of the temple—when the capital moved to Heijo-kyo, the temple formally moved as well.  It was rebuilt in Heijo-kyo as Gankouji, but it wasn't like they could just move all the buildings—though that was sometimes done.  Over time things were dilapidated or destroyed by fire, and Asukadera itself shrank.  They did find and preserve the giant Buddha statue believed to have been installed in the reign of Kashikiya Hime, though the statue had been repaired extensively, such that only parts of the statue are thought to be original.  You can come into the worship hall for a fee and the monks there will tell you the history of that and other images at the temple—in Japanese, of course—and you are allowed to take pictures. While the temple is reduced, it is still an incredible experience to stand there and imagine what it once was.  In addition, you can look up the valley and picture the ancient palaces that once stood there as well. And that was my next stop.  I headed up the roads towards the ancient palace sites.  I noticed that there was some work going on near the Itabuki Palace site, and so I headed over that way.  This means I did skip the Nara Prefectural Complex of Man'yo Culture, which looks to have some excellent depictions of life during Asuka and Nara periods, focusing on the period of the Man'yoshu, the book of ten thousand leaves, our earliest collection of Japanese language poetry written with “man'yogana”—sinitic characters used primarily for their sound to represent the Japanese language of that era.  This is only one of many reasons that I will be returning to Asuka on a future visit. Still, I only had so much time in the day, and so I wandered over the old palace sites.  There was an excavation underway, and I admit I still need to look into if there was a site report for the work—this was in November of 2022.  I don't know if there were any major changes in our understanding at the time, but always great to see people in the field doing the work that helps us map and understand the past.  While Tthere is a small rest area there, but you should be aware that after excavation, the site has largely been covered back up.  There is a small display on the eastern side of the valley where you can see some post holes, but largely you have to use your imagination to see the palace and where it was.  I still just like to be there and experience the site and get an idea for even just the topography of the place, which I really believe puts things in perspective. From the Asuka palace site, I headed up the road and a little bit into the hills to see Ishibutai kofun.  This is a famous kofun and is extremely impressive in its presentation, despite the fact that it has no grave goods and we don't really know who was buried there.  You see, though it was apparently a square shaped kofun, all of that dirt has been removed—likely by erosion or other factors—but that means that the stone chamber inside has been exposed.  With that you can see the enormous stones that people moved into place to create the burial chamber.  This was not a simple matter of making a brick enclosure, but rather it was massive boulders that were found and placed in such a way that I'm sure the builders of the pyramids or Stonehenge would have appreciated.  As it was open to the elements, anything that was inside was either stolen or rotted away, but it is still impressive to see the construction.  It is thought that this may have been the tomb of none other than Soga no Umako, that powerful Oho-omi that lead the Soga family to greatness, and some have suggested that with the Soga's downfall, that could explain why the earth was removed from the tomb in the first place, to disgrace him and his family. From Ishibutai, I headed west, taking the road between Tachibana dera and the ruins of Kawara dera.  We don't know exactly when they were founded, but it was likely in the 7th century.  Tachibana dera claims to have been founded by Shotoku Taishi, and is said to have been built on the site of his birthplace.  What we know is that it was mentioned in the Nihon Shoki by about 680, and it appears to have been a nunnery.  To the north is the site of Kawara dera, and you can see the ruins in the field around the current temple of Gufukuji, which was established there after Kawara dera itself had fallen to ruin.  Kawara dera and Tachibana dera may have been built as a pair of temples, and rooftiles have been found at each site that appear to be of a similar age. However, neither temple has any of the original buildings left.  There are some ancient stone statues, however: a stone with two people carved into it, facing away from each other, and, nearby, the Kameishi, or turtle stone, which some claim marked a boundary point between the two temples.  That isn't to say that the current temples don't have anything worth seeing, and if I had more time I would have definitely looked into it, but I had my sights set a bit farther afield, because continuing down the road will take you to several notable kofun. First off is the kofun of Temmu and his wife Jitou—I'll stick with the regnal names for now, as they haven't really come up in our story, but we'll definitely have a lot to talk about when we get there.  This is an octagonal kofun, likely representing Buddhist influence and the importance of the number “eight” at the same time that kofun themselves were starting to fall out of fashion.  The shape isn't easy to make out, given that it is overgrown with trees and other vegetation, and you aren't allowed on the kofun itself.  Still, it is something to visit it and give some thought to history. Next along the path, following a trail that cuts along the hillside, is the Demon's Cutting Board and the Demon's Toilet.  Yeah, you heard that right.  These are two large stones, one up on the hill, and one a little farther down.  A local story tells of an oni—a demon or ogre—that would catch passersby and eat them.  The oni would chop them up on their cutting board, the Oni no Manaita, and would then relieve himself in the toilet, the Oni no Setchin.  In reality, they appear to be two parts of a stone chamber for a kofun that was likely on top of the hill, but which was dug up or the top eroded away and then the top portion, the “Setchin” stone, fell down, possibly due to some kind of local event—a landslide or earthquake, or something similar.  Needless to say, there is nothing left of the grave other than these two giant stones, with any goods having long been taken. Continuing on along the path past that is the giant keyhole shaped kofun designated as that of Kinmei Tennou, aka Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niwa.  The tomb is large, and impressive, and a good example of the kind of royal tomb that was the norm up to that point.  Perhaps more intriguing is something I mentioned, earlier, because there are satellite kofun nearby.  Satellite kofun are often assumed to be people related to the main kofun in some way—it could be family members, consorts, or even special courtiers who served them well.  In this case, the tomb has been identified as that of Kibi Hime, and, unrelated to that as far as we can tell, it has become the home of the saruishi, the monkey stones I mentioned earlier.  They are behind a barrier, so you can't get too close, but it is neat to see them there, bearing silent witness to an age long past. At that point, the sun was setting behind the mountains.  I followed the road back to the Asuka train station and from there headed on to my next destination.  I left nearby Takamatsuzuka, which, as I said, I had seen on a previous trip, as well as many other sights.  After all, just to the west is Katsuraki, and to the north is Kashihara, which is not only home to Temmu's Fujiwara capital, but also to the three sacred mountains and numerous other kofun dotting the landscape.  Farther north still and you can visit Houryuuji Temple, and the nearby Chuuguuji temple, both of which have treasures from the Asuka and Nara periods, including the oldest extant wooden buildings in the world.  I highly recommend it. There is also more to explore.  There are old castle ruins—mostly just earthworks—and other temples and buildings from ages to come after the Asuka period.  While it was never exactly built up, that doesn't mean that Asuka remained completely untouched throughout the centuries. I'll put up some photos on the podcast webpage so that you can see things for yourself, and I hope that one day you all get a chance to visit Asuka.  It truly is a beautiful place, nestled amongst the hills and looking out into the Nara Basin.  There is a feeling as if, despite the roads and modern vehicles, time still moves a bit slower there.  And though the ancient buildings that once marked the capital of Yamato are no longer there, the traces and their presence can still be felt. Next episode we'll get back into the narrative.  I want to dive a little deeper into what was going on over on the continent before we start to unravel everything happening in Yamato, as the Tang dynasty had come to power, and it was just beginning a period that would come to be known as its golden age.  Until then, thank you for listening and 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.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for her work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

Explore the artistic universe of Miwa Matreyek, a versatile animator, designer, and performer currently residing in Vancouver. In this conversation, Miwa shares her recent endeavours in the UAE, where she seamlessly intertwines animation and live performance. Witness the enchanting convergence of cinema and theatre as her shadow silhouette engages with ethereal animations, weaving narratives of the surreal conflict between humanity and nature. As an Assistant Professor at Simon Fraser University, Matreyek brings a profound depth of expertise to this captivating conversation. Join us for an immersive journey into the magical space where art, technology, and storytelling harmoniously unite in Matreyek's one-woman shows.

Happy New Year! This episode we take a look back at where we've come and talk about some of the broad themes and changes that we've experienced over the episodes in the past year. For a little more, including references for the year, check out:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-newyear2024 Rough Transcript Shinnen Akemashite!  Happy New Year and Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is the New Year's Recap episode for 2024 Every year I try to take a moment and look back at the material we covered.  In part, this is to remind us of the journey we've been on, but it is also to help look at some of the larger themes that we might otherwise miss when we are looking at more discreet topics.  This year we have not necessarily progressed through as much of the archipelago's history as in previous years—we started in the early 530s and have probably covered about 80 or 90 years, in contrast to 2022 and before where we covered multiple centuries in a year.  But there's a good reason for that: it has been an eventful period, or at least more of the events are getting written down.  However, there is a lot of important stuff going on.  We are seeing, more than anywhere else, the rise of powerful families, not just individuals, a process that began as a way to expand the power of the state, but which then took on a life of its own under what is known as the uji-kabane system—the system of families and family rank.  This is happening alongside of a reimagining of the state and of the royal family in particular.  Many of the 8th century cultural norms are starting to be set in this period.  In many ways, the people of Yamato are revising their cultural imaginary of themselves, often in reference to new ideas, concepts, and philosophies being imported from the continent.  This includes the arrival of Buddhism and its shake up of the way that the people of the archipelago viewed the world and their place in it. And so we're going to start with a recap of the various sovereigns, then go into some of the more particular aspects of what was going on, and try to cover some of those more overarching themes.  Hopefully this gives us a good base to move on into 2024. Now over the past year we've gone through seven sovereigns.  First was the short reign of Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennou, around 531 to 536, back in episode 79, when we talked about the glass bowl attributed to his tomb.  He was followed by his brother Takewo Hirokunioshi Tate, or Senka Tennou, who reigned until his death in 539.  That was Episode 80, where we also kind of kicked off the Asuka period, which many see as starting around 538.  Next, in Episodes 81 through 86, was their half-brother, Amekunioshi Hiraki Hironiwa, or Kinmei Tennou, who ruled until about 571.  Amekunioshi was followed by his son, Nunakura Futodamashiki, known as Bidatsu Tennou, who ruled until 585—Episodes 88 and 89.  Bidatsu was followed, in episode 90, by our fifth sovereign in this year's line up, Tachibana no Toyohi, or Youmei Tennou, father of Prince Umayado, aka the famous Shotoku Taishi, who we talked quite a bit about for his legendary and historical importance.  Youmei Tennou passed away in 587, and after some conflict, Hasebe no Wakasasaki came to the throne, remembered as Sushun Tennou.  He was assasinated in 592, as we covered in Episode 92, and succeeded by Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, daughter of Amekunioshi, wife to Nunakura Futodamashiki, and known to most as Suiko Tennou.  That's where we are at present. We also have seen a succession of high officials.  We started off with Ohotomo no Kanamura and Mononobe no Arakahi as the two Ohomuraji, but we quickly saw the addition of Soga no Iname as Oho-omi.  This foreshadowed the fading of the Ohotomo family appear to have lost their status with their failures in peninsular dealings,   while the Mononobe and Soga continued to help lead the country.  Mononobe no Arakahi was succeeded in the position of Ohomuraji by Mononobe no Okoshi, and then Mononobe no Yugehi no Moriya.  Soga no Iname was succeeded to the position of Oho-omi by his son, Soga no Umako. Taken together with Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, these are perhaps some of the main names in the Chronicles.  Let's recap what was most important about each of them. We started this year talking about the reign of Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennou.  The official account says that he was the son of Wohodo, aka Keitai Tenno, and one of two of Wohodo's sons that were basically just keeping the seat warm for their half-brother, Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou.  In other words, they were kind of regents.  This story quickly falls apart, however, when you look at several factors.  First, based on some of the dates given for his birth, Amekunioshi would have been around 22 years old when their father, Wohodo, passed away—young, but old enough to take the throne without requiring any kind of regent.  In addition, neither of his two brothers gave up the throne to him when he finally came of age—whatever age that might have been.  Instead, each one died in the position.  That doesn't exactly scream that they were giving up power. Why this discrepancy?  The best explanation is that the Chroniclers were trying to keep things nice and tidy, and we are told that the tradition was for sovereigns to only come from lineages where both the male and female lines were considered royal—one sovereign and one royal princess, typically, who would be raised up as the Queen, and whose offspring would be eligible for the throne.  However, that was slightly disrupted by Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, who seems to have taken the throne despite the fact that his two half-brothers and their offspring may have had the stronger claim.  Still, he was able to point to his mother's royal status.  In fact, she was even of the previous dynasty, sister to the last sovereign from that line, Wohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou.  Or so we are told by the Chroniclers. .  And so only Amekunioshi's mother is considered to be the truly legitimate queen, while Magari no Ohine and the other so-called “regent” brother - Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennou - must have been from a consort other than the Wohodo's main wife.  Their mother, Menoko, was instead linked to a prominent family, that of the Owari no Muraji, but it is unclear if they had the royal connections on her side—though I have little doubt that they could have been invented if they didn't already exist. I would point out that even given this explanation, both of the brothers were given the posthumous honors of “Tenno”, rather than being referred to as a regent, whereas the sovereign Okinaga no Tarashi Hime, aka Jingu Kougou, also ostensibly a regent, was never granted that honor, at least by the Chroniclers.  We discussed this a bit in Episodes 41 and 42, and how that may have been due to the Chroniclers' misogynistic tendencies as much as anything.  There is a suggestion that in reality, these two brothers may have been rival claimants, and there may have even been competing courts, as different family members rallied support to their side.And all of that perfectly helps illustrate just how we think things might have looked around this time.  Succession to the royal throne hardly appears to have been cut and dry.  Even before this period, we saw times where there were multiple claimants , regents, etc.  There is no clear pattern by which we can deduce who would succeed any given sovereign: it might be a brother, or any of their sons, or even a daughter.  And without a clear system of succession, every time the sovereign passed away, there was a competition for the throne.    You might recall that the mutual father of these three sovereigns, Wohodo, was himself said to have been the first in a new dynasty-- the previous dynasty died out with Wohodo's predecessor, Wohatsuse no Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou.  There are a lot of questions around this transition, but even the Chroniclers couldn't immediately connect Wohodo to the previous lineage without having to go all the way back to Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, on his father's side, and to Ikume Iribiko, aka Suinin Tennou, on his mother's side, but there are still plenty of questions about those ties and how real they were.        When it comes to the complications of succession, one thing to factor in is that this was still in the time when every sovereign moved into a new palace.  There are various thoughts on why this was —one of them being that the move prevented spiritual pollution associated with a dead body.  I also wonder if it wasn't practical as the new sovereign may have already had their own base of power, or perhaps by building new it was a way to ensure that the buildings were always fresh and free of any problems, as I believe these early buildings were largely built of fresh, untreated wood.  Whatever the reason, moving to a new palace each time also means that there wasn't an actual, physical throne to fight over.  Rival sovereigns could set themselves up in different areas in and around the Nara basin, Kawachi, et cetera, and gather supporters to their court.  Those supporters, no doubt individuals with some power and clout in their region who saw benefit in allying themselves with an even bigger name, would eventually become the heads of various corporate families, further extending their power and influence.  There is plenty of reason to believe that the family systems we see on the archipelago were not necessarily indigenous creations.  Early on people were associated with a place, perhaps, and of course you would know your line of descent, possibly even going back into myth and legend.  The concept of “family” as simply a matter of descent and relationship no doubt existed—after all, everyone has a mother and a father.  However, the idea of families with wide ranging control over a particular industry, administrative function, or even court ritual were likely imported from the continent as a way to group people together.  In fact, these are often referred to more as “clans”—groups of individuals who claimed shared descent, whether real or imagined, often from some legendary figure.  The new concept of these families not only grouped people based on things like their occupation or common ethnicity, if they came from the peninsula, but it also added a layer of administration that was then tied into the concept of the Yamato court, making it an extension of the government.  In turn, the government classified these families through a system of rank and titles—the kabane.   This system had people being known as much or even more by their family name as they were by the common name they went by as individuals.  Originally we see individuals working in similar professions organized into groups that used the term “-Be” in the name, but later we get the “uji”, or familial clans, that were more like administrators and extensions of the court.  Of note, there would continue to be many people who were not formally part of a particular -Be or Uji or even Ie, or “house”.  These were mostly individuals of the common agricultural class or similar, and long lineages might have no actual family name until the Meiji period, when everyone was expected to take on a family name as part of the efforts to modernize the country.  Until then, having a family name meant that you actually were already a part of the upper crust of society, even if you were only on the bottommost rung of that particular social ladder. In addition, a family name allowed someone to take on the family kabane, or title.  While there were some titles that appear to be given to the individual, these kabane titles, such as Suguri, Kishi, Atahe, Kimi, Muraji, and Omi, designated entire families.  These terms themselves appear to come from earlier job positions, indicating different types of leadership, from a local headmaster up to rulers of countries, and high ministers of the court.  For example, the title of “Omi” was originally a job description, indicating one of the many functionaries that made the court run, but as a kabane, any member of a given family would be able to use the term, whether they were actually in a ministerial position or not.   At this point, these important families were essentially an extension of the state—a way to decentralize control so that the Yamato state could function at an expanded level.  Some families appear to have been set up around local administration, including making local chieftains and the like part of their own family unit that was then granted control of the area by the court.  During the period we've covered this past year, we see that approach of absorbing regional families mature and grow, and those families taking on greater roles: initially with stories of the Ohotomo and Mononobe families, culminating in the powerful Soga family.  For the Ohotomo and the Mononobe, the family name likely tells us part of what and who they were.  The Ohotomo were the Great Tomo, or the Great Tomo no Miyatsuko.  These Tomo no Miyatsuko are some of the earliest court nobles, and it would make sense that the Ohotomo were at their head—which would also explain their position as the Oho-omi in the 5th and early 6th centuries.  Next to this family were the Mononobe, the Be (occupational group) of the Warriors, or Mononofu.  Together these families represented the early concepts of administration and military might.  However, as the families continued to evolve, they became independent from the roles they were originally created to hold.  The Ohotomo would eventually fall from power, and in their place would rise up the Mononobe.  However, the Mononobe would also find themselves on the outs, especially in the tumultuous period following Amekunioshi's death.  It was at this time that a new family would rise up to take their place:  the Soga, which we've heard a lot about this year.  The head of the Soga, Soga no Iname, had positioned his family in part through carefully marrying his daughters into the royal line.  While this had been done in the past, it wasn't to the extent or success that the Soga were able to achieve: In only a single generation, Iname saw Soga descended sovereigns on the throne.  This took place, of course, with not a small amount of maneuvering and the eradication of rival lineages.  It was their own Game of Thrones playing out, with the families created to serve the state and the royal family grabbing for themselves more power.  This would seem to be an unexpected consequence of a concept that had initially helped expand the royal authority, and we'll only continue to see more of it in the coming decades and centuries. At the same time that all of this was playing out on the archipelago, things on the continent were also changing.  First and foremost, in that it was closest to home for Yamato, was the rising power of Silla on the Korean peninsula. Up to this point, most of the Korean peninsula appears to have been a collection of small, regional polities, with occasional alliances between them.  There were two or three kingdoms of note.  In the north was Goryeo, a shortened version of the original name, Goguryeo, which is how we generally refer to it today to distinguish it from the 10th century state of the same name.  It was the oldest of the various kingdoms, and claimed descent from the northern Buyeo kingdom, centered in modern Manchuria. In the southwest of the peninsula was the kingdom of Baekje.  They, too, claimed descent from the nobility of Buyeo, and they were made up of many of the various polities collectively referred to as Mahan.  While Goguryeo was ruling up in the north, Baekje was one of the first kingdoms to set up shop in the southern end of the peninsula. Then there was Silla.  Originally a confederation of six polities in the area known as the Jinhan, they eventually became a kingdom and started pushing against the other polities in the region.  This includes the fledgling kingdom of Kara, mostly known as a confederation of smaller polities from the old Byeonhan region.  There are royal style tombs in the area, but before they could really get going Kara and the other polities fell under the control of the kingdom of Silla.  This included groups like Ara and the controversial polity of Nimna.  This set Baekje and Silla in direct confrontation, as Silla's land grab eliminated much of the buffer territory between the two of them. Nimna appears to have been of particular concern to Yamato, and appears to have been one of Yamato's allies, along with Baekje.  While Baekje appears to have been the stronger of the two, Nimna may have had a special place for Yamato, especially as it may have been an important port for Yamato ships traveling to trade with the rest of the continent.  Nimna being under Silla rule would have made this trade much more risky, as the Silla-Yamato relationship was often a rocky one.  Yamato attempted to move Nimna out from under Silla control, both through an alliance with Baekje, in concert with some of the other polities, as well as through attempts to take the country by force—most of which excursions were called off for one reason or another. At the same time, Baekje had been in decline, generally speaking.  They moved their capital farther south after being defeated by Goguryeo.  They were rebuilding, and still a powerful force, but not quite at the height of their power. Farther on the mainland, between the Yellow and Yangzi rivers, the period of the Northern and Southern Courts was coming to a close, and the Sui dynasty would eventually rule much of the Middle Kingdom, what is today modern China.  They would bring a stability to the region and embark on public works projects that would forever change the face of East Asia. As all of this was happening, influences were coming from the west.  We mentioned the Sassanian glass bowl and similar wares that made their way from the Middle East all the way to Japan—though whether as part of a sovereign's burial or not might still be up for debate.  Nonetheless, we know that the overland trade routes were booming, even if the occasional instability might disrupt them now and again.  The whole of Asia was more connected than we often give it credit for. Along this road came not only material goods, but new ideas.  Greek culture had reached at least as far as Gandhara, modern Pakistan and Afghanistan, and from east of the Indus came a new religion:  Buddhism.  It spread along the silk road, eventually finding a home in China, where it flourished, and continued to spread to the Korean peninsula and then, in the 6th century, to the archipelago of Japan. Buddhism came hand in hand with other mainland texts, exploring a variety of science and philosophy.  We discussed how the mainstream story of the introduction of Buddhism is likely not entirely correct.  That story sets up a conflict between the foreign religion of Buddhism and the worship of local kami—the practices that would become Shinto.  So, resistance to Buddhism is initially depicted as a resistance to foreign influence and the need to continue to support indigenous belief.  The reality, however, is much more complex. First is the role of kami worship in the expansion and exercise of State power.  The archaeological record demonstrates some expansion of Yamato ritual in the spread of various kofun styles —especially the royal keyhole shaped kofun, which were clearly adopted by others, demonstrating Yamato's influence.  More subtly, we see the spread of Yamato ritualists to various parts of the archipelago, and eventually the spread of various beliefs—though it may be somewhat difficult to say just when belief in any particular kami started at this period.  Remember, though, the way that powerful physical icons of the kami, such as mirrors and swords, had been taken by the Yamato sovereign and held by the court.  We touched on this back in Episode 20, where we discussed on Yamato took on “guardianship” for various relics, almost like they were taking sacred hostages.  Worship of the kami was intertwined with statecraft, and spiritual power and political power were both a part of the mix along with actual military power.  If you could perform a ritual that people felt was effectual, that was seen as on par with actual governance.  We also see this in the way that various families identified with different kami, such as the Mononobe and their link to the deity of Isonokami shrine, and the Royal family with the deity of Mt. Miwa.  Worship, however, was already starting to take on a continental tinge, as we see in stories about various deities, and the practice of worship.  This was no doubt influenced by immigrants from the Korean peninsula, who brought their own stories and beliefs.  Furthermore, whenever nothing else seemed to be working, bringing in new and exotic ritual practices from across the sea was likely seen as New and Shiny.  It was, after all, the latest in spiritual technology, and that foreign-ness and lack of local understanding would have led not only to its also having a somewhat mysterious quality, but also in the power that comes with being the only ones to quote-unquote “understand” the power of it and how to translate it.  If you were a 5th or 6th century ritualist family, if you could get hold of things that seemed to be ancient practices from the continent that nobody else really knew or understood, you were automatically the local subject matter expert. Furthermore, there wasn't necessarily a single, unified concept of how the kami worked, either.  Kami worship was often localized, and then later would spread as others heard about particularly powerful kami and rituals.  But there was no single concept of “Shinto”—there's no evidence that Izumo, Yamato, and Kibi all had the same origin stories, and, in fact, the many different stories that make up the Age of the Gods in the Chronicles speaks to the idea that there were many different stories, depending on who you asked.  In many ways, this is even true today.  While there are general themes that most Shinto shrines and practitioners follow, ritual practices from place to place may vary wildly.  This is less so in places that were part of more unified systems, such as the shrines connected to the royal family or those regulated by State Shinto in the Meiji period through World War II, but even today you can find a variety of differing beliefs and rituals in Shinto, even as most things appear to be the same on the outside.  A shrine's teachings may have local meaning or local rituals that are not practiced elsewhere, though many will fall into a recognizable cultural milieu that tends to make them more standardized.  As a small, but visible example, different shrines may have different omamori—protection amulets—that they offer.  While most offer amulets against sickness, disaster, or for attaining goals, some may have specific amulets for the martial arts, while others may have more specific amulets about love and marriage.  These will often be based on those things which the shrine and its kami are most associated with. In many ways, the Soga clan's acceptance of and use of Buddhism early on emphasizes this kind of spiritual borrowing, but to an extent that went well beyond what anyone else had done.  Most groups or families seem to have borrowed bits and pieces from the continent and then applied them to their local customs, but the Soga appear to have taken on Buddhism wholesale.  The benefit was that Buddhism wasn't just a few new practices—it was an entire corpus of material, with a rich written tradition.  Of course the writing was primarily in Sinic script, which was not exactly accessible to most people.  And early attempts at building temples and holding worship demonstrate a clear lack of understanding of Buddhist rites and rituals – indeed they are described much more like what one might expect to see in kami worship, with an emphasis on Buddhist “feasts”.  This may have been an attempt to make these new practices more accessible, but I believe that it is more likely that these early attempts at Buddhism were trying to treat the Buddha as another kami, through which the Soga family could control access to rites and rituals and thus gain political power through their perceived spiritual power.  It didn't hurt that, when they finally did build some temples, they were in the continental style, even further illustrating the Soga family's connection with all of these new fangled ideas coming over from across the sea. This was likely facilitated by the Soga family's connections to the immigrant community, particularly to various people from Baekje whom they sponsored and who, in turn, would be able to assist them in various ways.  These included people like Shiba Tattou and his family, who were regularly assisting Soga no Iname and Soga no Umako in their endeavors.  This may in part explain why early Buddhist images were coming over from Baekje, Yamato's ally at the time, though that may have been coincidental or even a catalyst—it isn't entirely clear. It is also intriguing to me that I have not seen a clear reference to a Soga family shrine.  Perhaps the Soga themselves were from the continent, originally—that may explain some of the earlier Soga names that appear to reference the peninsula and even Goguryeo.  Then again, it is hard to say—it may be that the Soga family shrine was never of as much import as their eventual attachment to Buddhist institutions. For those in power who could see how the Soga family was using this new religion, it is little wonder that they pushed back against it.  They had no particular reason to see Buddhism as anything particularly special, but they no doubt knew that the Soga would use it as a platform to further enhance their position.  And the powers-that-be succeeded several times, it would seem, in resisting Soga attempts to found a new ritual center. The Soga, however, had already gained considerable power outside of Buddhism.  Much of their rise is not entirely catalogued, but by the time of Soga no Iname, things were looking good.  The Ohotomo family was on the decline, which likely created something of a power vacuum that Soga no Iname was able to exploit.  By the way, there is a thought that early on the position of “Muraji” was actually superior to that of “Omi”, and it may be that the “Oho-omi” position was not quite as prestigious as that of Ohomuraji.  This is obscured by the fact that by the time of the Chronicles, the Oho-omi position clearly eclipsed the position of Ohomuraji, and that is projected back into the distant past by the Chroniclers.  This would speak to the idea that the Soga family was actually ranked behind the Ohotomo and the Mononobe, originally, but their Omi family was on the rise, and eventually their position as Oho-omi, the Great Omi, became the most influential position at court. This may go along with the fact that Soga no Iname is also given the personal kabane of Sukune in the Chronicles, which is described as the highest personal title that could be bestowed on an individual.That also speaks to his personal power and influence at court.  Of course, he is described by these terms from early on, even though he likely received them later in his career, and so it can be difficult to track just when he came to the peak of his effectiveness.  There is also the possibility that some of it is projected back on him because of his offspring, though even then he was still likely someone of consequence to be able to have those familial connections with the royal family in the first place. I suspect that much of Iname's position was likely derived from his access to Baekje and other immigrants and their access to reading, writing, and the new technologies that the court was hungering for.  Iname then parlayed that position into strategic marriages with the royal house.  Several consorts were from the Soga lineage, daughters of Soga no Iname.  Their sons and daughters, while royal princes and princesses, would also be connected to their Soga relatives.  This was a not uncommon ploy, as we've seen it in many other cases as well.  However, then something happened that would disrupt the apple cart.  Remember hwo we talked about how a sovereign was supposed to be be descended from the royal family through both their paternal and maternal lines? Amekunioshi was succeeded by his son Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou.  His mother had been Ishi Hime, son of Amekunioshi's half-brother, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennou.  But when he died, his son, Hikobito, was not made sovereign.  Instead, the throne passed to his half-brother, Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou, a son of Amekunioshi and a daughter of Soga no Iname—so royal blood on only half of the family's side.  Following him, we see a bloody fight for the throne, largely personified by the military forces of the Mononobe v. those of the Soga.  Remember, the Mononobe had started as the Be of the warriors.  They were expected to be the armies of the court, at least in Yamato and the archipelago.  In previous reigns they had been the ones to mete out punishment and to be given charge of places like the Yamato government's outpost in Kyushu, from which point armies would be launched against the continent.    They did not, however, have a monopoly on military power.  Many families participated in raids against the peninsula, so we can assume that there were many who had their own, private forces.  While the Mononobe may have been the court's warriors, they had also branched out into other areas of administration, as well as maintaining the ritual site of Isonokami. The Soga versus Mononobe fight also saw various royal princes pitted against each other, and many would-be sovereigns were killed.  Prince Hikohito, whom one might think as the eldest son of Nunakura was the heir presumptive, was killed, and the Mononobe ended up supporting Prince Anahobe against the Soga's candidate, Prince Hasebe.  However, both of these candidates were descended from daughters of Soga no Iname—nobody was putting up a candidate that truly had royal blood on both sides. In the end, the Soga were victorious, and they destroyed the Mononobe—though not entirely.  The Mononobe were certainly out of power, but they would continue to exist in a more minor role.  The Soga candidate, Hasebe, was then placed on the throne as Sushun Tenno, while Soga no Umako enjoyed unparalleled power as Oho-omi.  However, despite his Soga lineage, and the fact that Soga no Umako had helped put him on the throne, Hasebe was not necessarily going to let himself be controlled.  And so Soga no Umako resorted, we are told, to assassination, to clear the throne for someone else.  And that someone else was none other than Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou.  She is something of an enigma.  She is the first woman to be granted the title of “Tennou” by the Chroniclers, and several accounts make her seem like she was a shrewd operator.  She had been the second wife of her half-brother, Nunakura Futodamashiki, and she'd been in or near the halls of power since his reign.  And yet some believe her to be little more than a puppet for Soga no Umako, while others believe she was a consensus candidate who was largely inoffensive to the majority of the court.  This is further complicated by the fact that she didn't even name her own offspring as Crown Prince, designated to succeed her.  Rather, that position went to none other than her nephew, the Prince of the Upper Palace, Kamitsumiya, aka the Prince of the Stable Door, Umayado, more popularly known today as Prince Shotoku Taishi. Shotoku Taishi is a mytho-historical figure by all accounts.  While many believe that an actual prince existed, he is given credit for almost anything good that happened.  Although the Soga family was clearly responsible for bringing in Buddhism, it is Shotoku Taishi who is credited with spreading the holy religion.  He is also said to have written the first constitution for the state, and set up a court rank system similar to the continent, though still unique to Yamato.  He is said to have ruled jointly with his aunt, and is treated in later stories as a dharma king, even though he never took on the actual mantle of sovereign.  Of course, Soga no Umako also exerted a huge influence, and in the end it is hard to say exactly who held the real power amongst the three:  Kashikiya Hime, Prince Umayado, or Soga no Umako. Umayado was the first to pass away, however—which may have also contributed to his holy status as any problems could be passed off as belonging to his aunt or, even better, to his grand-uncle, Soga no Umako, who would follow Umayado in death a few years later, and then, finally, Kashikiya Hime herself would succumb to time.  They all passed away within a decade of each other, but Kashikiya Hime would manage to outlast them all. Through this reign, for all of the fighting and politics, many of the foundations were laid for a reimagining of the Yamato state, the sovereign, and the vehicles of power.  The court had spread their control through ritual, through the familial system, and through the establishment of Miyake—government outposts designed to control rice land and send tribute back in the form of tax.  However, now they were formalizing that structure and in so doing they were putting a legal framework around it.  Built around a continental model, the throne became the source of rank for the individual, not just the family, and that rank could be given out across the archipelago.  This set up some of what was needed to start to move towards a more bureaucratic state in the continental model. Certainly, we see that Yamato power had expanded.  Further out from Yamato, we see the round, keyhole shaped tombs becoming popular, while closer to the Nara basin, they actually began to die out.  In part this can be seen as a possible sign of Yamato control, since the local elites were no longer being represented as rulers, but in a lesser capacity.  However, it then takes a real turn as even the sovereigns—or at least the Soga descended sovereigns—are no longer buried in keyhole shaped tombs, either, and these tombs become smaller.  This may be, at least in part, because resources to build tombs were being redirected into the new temple building craze.  For whatever reason, Buddhism had caught on, at least amongst the elites.  If the Soga family had hoped to control Buddhism, they appear to have failed.  Numerous temples started up, tied to different families, most of them connected, in some way, with various immigrant groups in the archipelago.  Where this would go, we'll have to see. And that largely catches us up.  I skipped over a few things, but it is worth recalling the Haruna eruptions that we covered back in episode 87, which reminds us that the Chronicles really only give us a narrow view of everything that was going on.  Much of the history of the archipelago remains unrecorded, and is only understood through the archaeological record.  While a lot was happening in Yamato, there was plenty going on elsewhere, but we only see it when it touches on Yamato and their politics. And so we learn a little more about the creation of the Dazaifu, and we hear about natural disasters, such as earthquakes and floods, but only if they affect the Nara basin.  There are some hints in the fudoki, the local gazetteers that were compiled in the 8th century to catalog the local stories and histories, but we only have so much, and even then the stories aren't always easy to place in a truly chronological context.  Still, we can see some general themes running throughout this period. As we start into 2024, we'll finish up with the reign of Kashikiya Hime.   Before her reign ends, we'll also see the rise of the Tang dynasty on the continent—a new inspiration for Yamato, but also a new threat, especially as they ally with Silla.  Also, with Prince Umayado gone, who will next take the reins of power?  And what will happen with the Soga family?  Will Umako's children prove as formidable as he was?  There is plenty more to look forward to. Until then, Happy New Year!  As usual, thank you for listening and for all of your support.  Thanks also to my lovely wife, Ellen, for her continued work at helping to edit these episodes! Remember, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to 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.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

We are reflecting on a year of reading by tallying up the books that we just can't stop thinking about. Two professional readers – Miwa Messer, host of Barnes & Noble's book podcast Poured Over, and Andrew Limbong, host of NPR's Book of the Day podcast – join us to share their best of the year lists. Here are the books mentioned in the episode. For pictures, links and more details, head to our website! Andrew's picks:‘Landscapes' by Christine Lai‘Poverty by America' by Matthew Desmond‘Roaming' by Mariko and Jillian Tamaki‘Ringmaster' by Abraham Josephine RiesmanMiwa's picks:‘Loot' by Tania James‘Ordinary Notes' by Christina Sharpe‘Open Throat' by Henry Hoke‘Chain Gang All-Stars' by Nana Kwame Adjei-BrenyahGreta's picks:‘The Vaster Wilds' by Lauren Groff‘The Country of the Blind' by Andrew Leland‘The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi' by Shannon Chakraborty‘Same Bed Different Dreams' by Ed ParkListener picks: ‘The Fragile Threads of Power' by V.E. Schwab‘Shrines of Gaiety' by Kate Atkinson‘Land of Milk and Honey' by C Pam Zhang ‘In the Lives of Puppets' by TJ Klune‘Monsters' by Claire Dederer‘Black River Orchard' by Chuck Wendig ]]>

Hunter & I were joined by special guest Sean (S.B.) Alger, Myra and Bobbi from Florida, Miwa and Jeff from Virginia, Helm from North Germany, and David from New Orleans, as we talked about culture & identity, nuke lies, the myth of abuser as victim, the gremlin in the AI, loosh harvesting, and much more.... Read More

Miwa is the OG mystic here at the Beep who has psychically seen it all and healed it all — no topic is off-limits. She's brilliant at shining her practical magic on matters of the heart, sex, family, business, money, talking to dead people, and complex physical illnesses. She's all about making sure that you have what you need to make the right choices for you. When she's not working, you can find her making cuddle puddles with her kiddos, flying around the astral plane with her dog, and singing at the top of her lungs in her basement karaoke studio. **Yes, she really has one — complete with strobe lights and a mixer! www.boulderpsychicinstitute.org

This episode we will look at the influences on Japan from the continent, starting with what was going on between the archipelago and the peninsula with tribute--in the form of birds and even books--as well as conflict.  We'll start to look at what sorts of knowledge was being passed over to Japan in the form of various books, and hopefully set the stage for changes that we will eventually see in the form of the Yamato government, itself. For more, check out our blog post at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-94 Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 94: Magpies, Buddhism, and the Baekje Summer Reading Program This is one of a multi-part series discussing the late 6th and early 7th centuries during the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou.  Last episode, Episode 93, I did a very quick overview of just what is going on and some of the players involved.  This episode I want to start deep diving into some of the topics, and we're going to start with looking at the relationship between Yamato and the Continent, primarily, but not exclusively, through their relationships, the gifts and tribute that was going back and forth, and immigration—primarily from Baekje and Silla—and the importation of new ideas, not just Buddhism.  This in turn would would eventually lead to a formal change in the way that the Yamato state governed itself and how it came to see itself even as an equal to that of the Sui court, which had unified the various kingdoms of the Yangtze and Yellow River Basins in the area of modern China. To begin, we'll go back a bit, because this dynamic isn't simply about Kashikiya Hime, Soga no Umako, or any one, single figure—though that is often how it is portrayed.  To start with, let's cover some background and what we know about the archipelago and the continent. As we went over many, many episodes back, the early Yayoi period, prior to the Kofun period, saw a growth in material cultural items that were from or quite similar to those on the Korean peninsula.  There had been some similarities previously, during the Jomon period, but over the course of what now looks to be 1200 to 1300 years, the is evidence of people going regularly back and forth across the straits.  It is quite likely that there were Wa cultural entities on both sides in the early centuries BCE, and there are numerous groups mentioned on the Korean peninsula, presumably from different ethno-linguistic backgrounds, though typically only three areas get much focus: The Samhan, or three Han, of Mahan, Byeonhan, and Jinhan. Later this would shift to three Kingdoms:  Baekje, Silla, and Goguryeo, and they would  get almost all of the press.  Still, we know that there were groups like the Gaya, or Kara, confederacy, and likely other small, eventually isolated groups that did not have their stories written down anywhere, other than mentions in the Chronicles of Japan or of one of the other three major Kingdoms of the peninsula. These groups continued to trade with the continent, and as the archipelago entered the period of mounded tombs, they were doing so as part of a larger mounded tomb cultural area that included both the archipelago and the Korean peninsula: First the funkyubo, which is to say burial mounds, with multiple burials, and then the kofun, the singular tomb mounds for an individual and possibly their direct relatives.  This tradition reached its apex with the distinct zenpo-koen, or round-keyhole style, kofun, an innovation that was rooted in continental practice but at the same time distinctly a part of the archipelago. Many artifacts came over throughout this period, and a fair number of them came with a new innovation: writing.  There is debate over the earliest forms of “writing” to be found in the islands, with evidence of characters on pottery being questioned as to its authenticity.  However, it is hard to question the writing that appeared on the early bronze mirrors and other such artifacts that showed up. Early writing on the archipelago is more decorative or even performative—crude attempts to copy existing characters that often demonstrate a lack of understanding, at least by the artisans that were making various elite goods.  Though, based on the fact that even obvious forgeries with nonsense characters made their way into tombs as grave goods, we can probably assume that most of the elites were not too concerned with writing, either, other than for its decorative, and possibly even talismanic qualities. In the fourth and fifth centuries, this began to change.  We have specialists and teachers coming over to the archipelago, often there as tutors for the royal Baekje princes who were apparently staying in Yamato as part of a diplomatic mission.  No doubt some Yamato elites began to learn to read and write, but even at this point it seems to have been more of a novelty, and for several centuries reading and writing would seem to have remained largely the purview of educated immigrant communities who came to Yamato and set up shop. Though, along with things like the horse, writing may have nonetheless assisted Yamato in extending its authority, as speech could now, with a good scribe, be committed to paper or some other medium and then conveyed great distances without worry about something begin forgotten. So, at this point, writing appears to mostly be utilitarian in purpose.  It fills a need.  That said, we have discussion of the Classics, and as reading and writing grew, exposure to writings on philosophy, religion, and other topics expanded.  After all, reading meant that you were no longer reliant on simply whom you could bring over from the continent.  Instead, you could import their thoughts—or even the thoughts of humans long dead—and read them for yourself.  In the early 6th century, we see Baekje sending over libraries worth of books.  These are largely focused on Buddhist scriptures, but they also include other works of philosophy as well.  It is unclear to me how much the evangelical nature of Buddhism contributed to this spread.  Buddhism exhorts believers to share the Buddha's teachings with all sentient beings.  Even during the Buddha's lifetime, his disciples would go out and teach and then gather back with their teacher during the rainy season. Buddhist teachings, coming over in books—the sutras—came alongside of other writings.  There were writings about philosophy, about medicine, and about science, including things that we might today consider magical or supernatural.  Those who knew how to read and write had access to new knowledge, to new ideas, and to new ways of thinking.  We can see how all of this mixed in the ways that things are described in the Chronicles.  For example, we see that many of the rulers up to this point have been described in continental terms as wise and sage kings.  Now, as Buddhism starts to gain a foothold, we see Buddhist terminology entering in to the mix.  In some ways it is a mishmash of all of the different texts that were coming over, and it seems that things were coming more and more to a head. In addition, there were things going on over on the continent as well, and this would come to also affect the archipelago.  For one thing, this was a period of unification and consolidation of the various state polities.  Baekje and Silla had been consolidating the smaller city-states under their administration for some time, and in 589 the Sui dynasty finally achieved what so many had tried since the time of the Jin—they consolidated control over both the Yangtze and Yellow River basins.  They set up their capital, and in so doing they had control of the largest empire up to that point in the history of East Asia.  The Sui dynasty covered not only these river basins, but they also had significant control over the Western Regions, out along the famous Silk Road. The Sui could really make some claim to being Zhongguo, the Middle Kingdom, with so many of the trade routes passing through their territory.  They also controlled the lands that were the source of so much of the literary tradition—whether that was the homelands of sages like Confucius, or else the gateway to India and the home of Buddhism.  It is perfectly understandable that those states in the Sui's orbit would enter a period of even further Sinification.  For the archipelago this was likely through a lens tinted by their intermediaries on the Korean peninsula, but even they were clearly looking to the Sui and adopting some of the tools of statecraft that had developed over in the lands of the Middle Kingdom. During the early years of the Sui, Yamato had been involved in their own struggles, and at the end of the previous reign Yamato had an army in Tsukushi poised to head over and chastise Silla for all that they had done to Nimna, but then Hasebe was assassinated, and it is unclear what actually happened to that expedition.  Yamato started gathering an army in 591, and Kishi no Kana and Kishi no Itahiko were sent to Silla and Nimna, respectively, as envoys, and then we are told that in 595 the generals and their men arrived from Tsukushi.  Does that mean that they went over to the peninsula, fought, and then came back from Tsukushi?  It is all a little murky, and not entirely clear to me. Rather, we are told that in 597 the King of Baekje sent Prince Acha to Yamato with so-called “tribute”—the diplomatic gifts that we've discussed before, re-affirming Baekje and Yamato's alliance.  Later that same year, Iwagane no Kishi was sent to Silla, so presumably Yamato and Silla relations had improved.  Iwagane no Kishi returned back some five months later, in 598, and he offered a gift from the Silla court of two magpies to Kashikiya Hime.  We are told that they were kept in the wood of Naniwa, where they built a nest in a tree and had their young. Aston notes here that magpies are plentiful on the continent but not in Japan.  Indeed, their natural range is noted across eastern China and up through the Amur river region, as well as a subspecies up in Kamchatka, and yet it seems like they didn't exactly stray far from the coast.  In modern Japan, the magpie, is considered to be an invasive species, and the current populations likely were brought over through trade in the late 16th century, suggesting that this initial couple of birds and their offspring did not exactly work out.  Even today magpies are mostly established in Kyushu, with occasional sightings further north—though they have been seen as far north as Hokkaido.  Perhaps Naniwa just was not quite as hospitable for them.  There is also the possibility that the term “magpie” was referencing some other, similar bird.  That is always possible and hard to say for certain.  That said, it is part of a trend, as four months later, in the autumn of 598, a Silla envoy brought another bird:  this time a peacock. Not to be outdone, apparently, a year later, in the autumn of 599, Baekje sent a veritable menagerie:  a camel, two sheep, and a white pheasant.  Presumably these were sent alive, though whether or not there was anyone in Japan who knew how to take care of them it is unclear.  I can only imagine what it must have been like to have such animals on board the ship during the treacherous crossing of the Korea strait—for all we know there were other exotic gifts that were likewise sent, but these are the only ones that made it. And if this sounds far-fetched, we have plenty of evidence of the exotic animal trade.  Animals such as ostriches, and possibly even a giraffe or two, were somehow moved all the way from Africa along the silk road to the court in Chang'an. There were also “tribute” gifts sent from parts of the archipelago, though I suspect this was quite different from the diplomatic gifts shared between states.  For example, there was a white deer sent to Kashikiya Hime from the land of Koshi in the winter of 598.  It was no camel or magpie, but white or albino animals—assuming that wasn't their normal color—were considered auspicious symbols. Also, in 595 there was a huge log that washed ashore in Awaji.  A local family hauled it up and went to use it as firewood when they noticed that it gave off a particularly sweet smell.  Immediately they put out the fire, as they suddenly realized what they had:  it was a log of aloeswood.  Aloeswood is well known as one of the most highly prized aromatic woods, and it famously does not grow in Japan.  In fact, it is a tropical wood, growing in Southeast Asia.  For a log to have washed ashore is almost unbelievable—perhaps it was part of a trade shipment that sank.  It isn't impossible that a log somehow fell, naturally, into the ocean and followed the currents all the way up to Japan, which would have been quite the journey. And so, with such a rare gift, the people offered it up to Kashikiya Hime.  This was probably the best course of action.  They could use it for themselves, but that likely wouldn't have done much other than help perfume the air for a time.  Or they could have tried to sell it—but given the rarity, I'm sure there would have been questions.  In both cases, I suspect that they would have been at risk of some elite getting wind and deciding that they should just take it for themselves.  By offering it to the court, publicly, they received the credit for it, at least—and it probably put them in favor with the court at least for a little while. Logs like this would be treated with immense respect.  Small pieces would be taken, often ground down and used sparingly.  A piece much like this called “Ranjatai” came over as a gift from the Tang dynasty in the 8th century, and was later preserved at Todaiji in the 8th century, and is still there as part of the Shosoin collection. The story of this particular one is interesting in that knowledge of aloeswood and the tradition of scent appreciation likely came over from the continent, probably from the Sui and Tang dynasties, as part of the overall cultural package that the archipelago was in the midst of absorbing. Despite the apparently good relations indicated by gifts like magpies or peacocks, it is clear there were still some contentions with Silla, especially given that nobody had forgotten their takeover of Nimna, and it didn't help that in 600, we are told that Silla and Nimna went to war with each other--again.  It isn't clear just how involved Yamato was in this, if at all—by all accounts, Nimna has already been under Silla control.  Was this a local rebellion?  An attempt by Yamato and Baekje to split it off?  Or something else?  Or is it just a fabrication to justify the next bit, where we are told that Kashikiya Hime sent an army of 10,000 soldiers under the command of Sakahibe no Omi as Taishogun and Hozumi no Omi as his assistant, the Fukushogun?  They crossed the waters over to Silla and laid siege to five of Silla's fortresses, forcing Silla to raise the white flag.  The Nihon Shoki claims that Silla then ceded six fortified places:  Tatara, Sonara, Pulchikwi, Witha, South Kara, and Ara. Since Silla submitted, the Yamato troops stopped their assault and Kashikiya Hime sent Naniwa no Kishi no Miwa to Silla and Naniwa no Kishi no Itahiko to Nimna to help broker some sort of peace.  Interestingly, this seems quite similar to the account of 591, when they sent “Kishi no Itahiko”, with no mention of Naniwa.  Presumably it is the same individual, and I have to wonder if it isn't the same event, just relocated and duplicated for some reason. A peace was brokered, and the Yamato troops departed, but it seems that Silla was dealing in something other than good faith: no sooner had the Yamato troops gotten back in their boats than Silla once again invaded Nimna, again. I'd like to stress that there is no evidence of this at all that I could find in the Samguk Sagi, and it is possible that some of this is in the wrong section, possibly to simply prop up this period, in general.  However, it is equally as likely that the Samguk Sagi simply did not record a loss to Yamato—especially one that they quickly overturned, setting things back to the status quo.  As such, the best we can say is that Silla and Yamato around this time were less than buddy buddy. With Silla going back on their word, Yamato reached out to Goguryeo and Baekje in 601.  Ohotomo no Muraji no Kurafu went to Goguryeo, while Sakamoto no Omi no Nukade traveled to Baekje.  Silla was not just waiting around, however, and we are told that Silla sent a spy to Yamato, but they were arrested and found out in Tsushima.  They arrested him and sent him as tribute to the Yamato court. We are told that the spy's name was “Kamata”, and he was banished to Kamitsukenu—aka the land of Kenu nearer to the capital, later known as Kouzuke.  And there are a few things about this story that I think we should pull on. First off, that name: Kamata.  That feels very much like a Wa name, more than one from the peninsula.  We aren't told their ethnicity, only whom they were working for, so it may have been someone from Wa, or possibly that is just the name by which they were known to the archipelago.  There likely were Wa who were living on the peninsula, just like there were people from Baekje, Silla, and Koguryeo living in the archipelago, so that's not out of the question.  Furthermore, it would make sense, if you wanted to send someone to spy on Yamato, to use someone who looked and sounded the part. The punishment is also interesting.  They didn't put him to death.  And neither did they imprison him.  In fact, I'm not sure that there would have been anywhere to imprison him, as there wasn't really a concept of a “prison” where you just lock people up.  There may have been some form of incarceration to hold people until they could be found guilty and punished, but incarceration as a punishment just doesn't really come up.  Instead, if you wanted to remove someone, banishment seems to have been the case—sending them off somewhere far away, presumably under the care of some local official who would make sure that they didn't run off.  Islands, like Sado Island, were extremely useful for such purposes, but there are plenty of examples where other locations were used as well. They probably could have levied a fine, as well, but that seems almost pointless, as he would have been free to continue to spy on Yamato.  Instead they sent him about as far away from Silla and Silla support as they could send him. This also speaks to the range of Yamato's authority.  It would seem that Tsushima was at least nominally reporting to Yamato, though given that he was sent as “tribute” to the court, that may indicate that they still had some level of autonomy.  And then there must have been someone in Kamitsukenu in order to banish someone all the way out there, as well. Of course, given all of this, it is hardly surprising that Yamato was back to discussing the possibility of making war with Silla again.  And so, in the second month of 602, Prince Kume was appointed for the invasion of Silla, and he was granted the various “Be” of the service of the kami—possibly meaning groups like the Imbe and the Nakatomi, along with the Kuni no Miyatsuko, the Tomo no Miyatsuko, and an army of 25,000 men.  And they were ready to go quickly—only two months later they were in Tsukushi, in the district of Shima, gathering ships to ferry the army over to the peninsula. Unfortunately, two months later, things fell apart.  On the one hand, Ohotomo no Muraji no Kurafu and Sakamoto no Omi no Nukade returned back from Baekje, where they likely had been working with Yamato's allies.  Kurafu had been on a mission to Goguryeo and Nukade had been sent to Baekje the previous year.  However, at the same time, Prince Kume fell ill, and he was unable to carry out the invasion. In fact, the invasion was stalled at least through the next year, when, in about the 2nd month of 603, almost a year after Prince Kume had been sent out, a mounted courier brought news to Kashikiya Hime that he had succumbed to his illness.  She immediately consulted with her uncle, Soga no Umako, and the Crown Prince, Umayado, and asked them for their counsel.  Ultimately, she had Kume's body taken to Saba in Suwo, out at the western end of the Seto Inland Sea side of western Honshu, modern Yamaguchi Prefecture, where the prince was temporarily interred, with Hashi no Muraji no Wite, possibly a local official, overseeing the ceremony.  Later, Wite's descendants in the region were called the Saba no Muraji.  Kume was finally buried atop Mt. Hanifu in Kawachi. A quick note here about time.  It is sometimes difficult to figure out just what happened when.  This is all noted for the fourth day of the second month of 603.  Clearly it didn't all happen in one day, so what actually happened on that day?   Remember, Kume fell ill in the 6th month of 602, and we are now in the 2nd month of the following year.  So did he fall ill and then was wasting away for 8 months before he passed away?  Or is this the date when the court learned of his death?  Or is it the date when his body was finally buried?  There is a lot going on, and they don't exactly provide a day-to-day.  My general take is that this is when the news arrived at the court, which is when there would have been a court record, while the rest was likely commentary added for context, even if it happened much later. In addition, this whole thing holds some questions for me, not the least the name of this prince:  Kume.  Presumably, Kume was a full brother to none other than the Crown Prince, Prince Umayado.  He was also a son of Princess Anahobe and the sovereign, Tachibana no Toyohi, and we have seen then name “Kume” before as a name, or at least a sobriquet, for someone in the royal family.  However, it also means “army”, which seems surprisingly on the nose, given that all we are given about him is that he was supposed to lead an army.  It makes me wonder if this wasn't one of those half-remembered stories that the Chroniclers included without all of the information.  Then again, maybe Kume really was his name, and this is all just a coincidence. I also would note that it was not typical to have a royal prince leading an expedition like this.  Typically, the taishogun would be someone from an influential family, but not a member of the royal family, themselves.  That this army was being led by a royal prince also seems to speak to how this was seen as significant.  Perhaps that is why, when Kume passed away, they chose as his replacement his older brother:  Tahema. [Look up more on Tahema and if I can find out about him] Tahema was selected to take over for his younger brother on the first day of the 4th month of 603, and 3 months later, on the 3rd day of the 7th month, he was leaving out of Naniwa.  He didn't get very far, however.  Tahema embarked on this adventure along with his own wife, Princess Toneri.  We've seen this in past episodes, where women were in the camp alongside their husbands, directly supporting the campaigns.  Unfortunately, in this case, Princess Toneri died shortly into their journey, at Akashi.  This is recorded as only three days after they had departed, which likely means it happened quickly.  They buried her at Higasa Hill, but Tahema, likely grieving his loss, returned, and never carried out the invasion. Five years later, things may have improved with Silla, as there were a number of immigrants—we are only told that they were “many persons”—came to settle in Japan.  What isn't noted is whether or not this was of their own volition.  What forces drove them across from the peninsula?  Did they realize that there were opportunities to come and provide the Yamato elites with their continental knowledge and skills?  Were they prisoners of war?  If so, where was the war?  Or were they fleeing conflict on the peninsula?  Perhaps political refugees?  It isn't exactly clear. While things were rocky with Silla, relations seem to have been much better with the Baekje and Goguryeo.  While exotic animals may have been the gift of choice in the early part of the period, by 602, Baekje and Goguryeo were both sending gifts of a different sort.  These were more focused on spiritual and intellectual pursuits.  And so, in 602, a Baekje priest named Kwalleuk—or Kanroku, in the Japanese pronunciation—arrived bringing books on a number of different subjects, which three or four members of the court were assigned to study.  We don't know exactly what the contents of each book was, but based on what we generally know about later theories, we can probably make some educated guesses that much of this was probably based on concepts of yin and yang energies.  Yin and yang, were considered primal energies, and at some point I will need to do a full episode just on this, but during the Han dynasty, many different cosmological theories came together and were often explained in terms of yin and yang.  So elemental theory is explained as each element has some different portion of yin and yang, and similarly different directions, different times of day, and different times of the year were all explained as different proportions of yin and yang energies, which then contributed to whether certain actions would be easier or more difficult—or even outright dangerous. The book on calendar-making, or ”koyomi”, was assigned to Ohochin, whose name suggests that he may have been from a family from the continent, and he was the ancestor of the Yako no Fumibito.  Calendar-making was considered one of the more important roles in continental sciences, although it never quite took off to the same degree in Yamato.  Still, it described the movement of the stars and how to line up the lunar days with various celestial phenomena.  It also was important for understanding auspicious and inauspicious days, directions, and more—arts like divination, geomancy, and straight up magic would often provide instructions that required an understanding of the proper flow of yin and yang energies, as represented by the elements, and expressed on the calendar in terms of the elemental branch and stem system, with each day being related to a given element in an either greater or lesser capacity, usually related as the elder or younger brother.  Events might be scheduled to take place, for instance, on the first rat day of the first month, and so the calendar maker would be the one to help determine when that would be.  Also, since the solar and lunar calendars were not in synch, there would occasionally be a need for a “leap month”, often known as an extra-calendrical month, which would typically just repeat the previous month.  This would happen, literally, “once in a blue moon”, an English expression referring to a solar month with two full moons.  In fact, we just had one of those last month, in August of 2023. This isn't to say that the archipelago didn't have a system of keeping track of seasons, etc.  Clearly they were successfully planting and harvesting rice, so they had knowledge of roughly what time it was in the year, though there are some thoughts that a “year” was originally based on a single growing period, leading to two or three “years” each solar year.  Either way, farmers and others no doubt knew at least local conditions and what to look for regarding when to plant, and when to perform local ceremonies, but this was clearly a quote-unquote, “scientific” approach, based on complex and authoritative sounding descriptions of yin and yang energies. Closely related to the calendar-making studies, another book that the Baekje priest Kwalleuk brought over was one on Astronomy, or “Tenmon”, a study of the heavens, which was studied by Ohotomo no Suguri no Kousou.  For perhaps obvious reasons, astronomy and calendar-making were closely aligned, since the change in the stars over the course of the year would often have impacts on the calendar.  However, this was also likely very closely aligned with something akin to astrology, as well, following the celestial paths of various entities, many of those being things like planets.  If you aren't aware, planets, though they often appear in the sky as “stars”, have apparently erratic movements across the heavens.  The stars generally remain fixed, and from our perspective appear to “move” together throughout the year.  Planets, however, take funky loop-de-loop paths through our sky, as they, like the earth, are also orbiting the sun.  Furthermore, different planets orbit at different speeds.  All of this leads to some apparently strange movements, especially if you envision the sky as a round dome over a flat earth.  There are also other phenomenon, from regular meteor showers to comets, and even eclipses, all of which were thought to have their own reasons.  Some of these were considered natural—neither auspicious nor inauspicious—while others were thought to impact the flow of yin yang energy on the earth, thus potentially affecting our day-to-day lives. Kousou was apparently trying to get the special bonus for the summer reading program, because he also studied another book that came over from Baekje on a subject that Aston translates as “Invisibility”, or “tonkou”.  This is a little less obvious an explanation.  I don't think that they were literally studying, ninja-style, how to not to be seen.  In discussions of kami we've talked in the past about visible kami and, thus, conversely, invisible kami.  It appears to be based on a type of divination to help better understand auspicious and inauspicious signs, and is based on a blend of various theories, again connected to a large yin-yang theory. Finally, there was another volume that was studied by Yamashiro no Omi no Hinamitsu that Aston translates as straight up “magic”, or “houjutsu”.  Of course, in the worldview at the time, Magic was just another science that we didn't understand.  By understanding the flow of yin and yang, one can affect various things, from helping cure disease and heal the sick to causing calamity, even to the point of possibly learning the secrets of immortality. Much of this would fall into the terms “onmyoudou”, the way of Yin and Yang, and there had been some work on that introduced earlier.  That it was being introduced by a Buddhist priest demonstrates what I was saying earlier about just how interconnected it all was. Other Buddhist gifts were much more straightforward.  In 605, for instance, the king of Goguryeo sent 300 Ryou of what they call “yellow metal”, possibly an admixture of gold and copper, for a Buddhist image.  Five years later they sent two priests.  One of them, Tamchi, is said to have known the Five Classics, that is the Confucian classics, as well as how to prepare different colored paints, paper, and ink. All of this is interesting, but it is the usual suspects.  Yamato had been siphoning off culture and philosophy from the states and kingdoms of the Korean peninsula for some time, and in that time, they began to adopt various continental practices.  In later centuries, much of this would be attributed to the work of Shotoku Taishi, aka Prince Umayado, especially the transmission of Buddhist thought, although for the most part we haven't actually seen a lot of that in the Chronicles themselves, which we'll get to. However, later stories paint him as one of the main forces pushing for reform in the court, especially when they would eventually push for a new, 17 article constitution, based on principles pulled from a variety of sources—both Buddhist and Han philosophical foundations.  Along with that constitution, the court also instituted a 12 rank system for court ministers.  This ranking system would remain in place, eventually replacing entirely the kabane system that ranked individuals based on their family in favor of ranking one for their individual achievements.  Furthermore, it wasn't just a status symbol.  Rank would come into play in all aspects of courtly life, from the parts of the palace you were allowed to be in, the kinds of jobs you could do, and even the amount that you were paid for your service, making the families of the land part of and dependent on the bureaucracy. And with such a system in place, there was only one natural thing for it:  The Yamato court would reach out beyond the Korean peninsula and go directly to the source.  They would send envoys to the court of the Sui Emperor himself and establish relations with the Middle Kingdom directly, leading to one of the most famous diplomatic incidents in all of the early Japanese history. And that is where I'm going to have to leave it for now, because once we get into that rabbit hole we are going to have a whole other episode.  And so now we are fully grounded in our foundation.  We can see Yamato importing people and also ideas from the continent, through the peninsula, and those ideas are taking root.  They are causing changes, at least at the Yamato court, but those changes would eventually make there way throughout society, and forever change Japan and even how they see themselves.  The lens of what is commonly seen as Buddhist and Confucian thought would be a powerful tool that would shape the ideas to come. Until next time, then, thank you for listening and 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.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

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Hunter & I had a pleasant and therapeutic chat with Leela from Georgia, Miwa from Virginia, David from New Orleans, G from NYC, Bobbi from Florida, Kerry from Montana, and Jeff in Virginia about the new New York, gender dystopia, the husk of Frisco, homeless insanity, violet light, gating trauma, Jerry Marzinski, parasitic entities, and... Read More

Fresh off the killing of Anahobe and the destruction of the Mononobe, Soga no Umako is riding high as a new sovereign, Prince Hasebe, takes the throne.  Surely things will have finally settled down, won't they have done? For more, check out our podcast page at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-92 Rough Transcription: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 92: Death or Taxes, aka Don't Piss Off Umako. Before we get going, a quick recap: we are still in the late 6th century, and since the death of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, things have been a bit crazy.  The number of apparently legitimate heirs was rather impressive.  There were the various siblings of Nunakura, both full and half-siblings, and there were his children and his siblings' children.  On top of that, there were some truly tense politics amongst some of the most powerful families in the realm, particularly the ancient Mononobe and the more recent Soga family, who had tied themselves so closely with the royal family through marriage that at this point just about every possible heir to the throne was in some way a Soga descendant.  The stories of this era have been filled with stories of death, war, and struggles for the throne.  Finally, there is the tension between Buddhism, which was first introduced in the early 6th century, and the established worship of the various kami, which also speaks to the tensions between various sources of spiritual political authority. As we discussed int the last two episodes, when Nunakura passed away, Prince Anahobe tried to take the throne, and he was initially thwarted by Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe, aka Sakahe no Kimi.  Anahobe, possibly with the assistance of his brother, Prince Hasebe, as well as Mononobe no Ohomuraji no Moriya, killed Sakahe no Kimi, pissing off Nunakura's former Queen, Kashikiya Hime.  Next, Nakatomi no Muraji no Katsumi, in support of Mononobe no Moriya, attempted to curse several of the candidates with stronger claims on the throne, and when that didn't work, he just out and out killed Crown Prince Hikobito, getting offed himself in the process.  Throughout all of this, another prince, Tachibana no Toyohi, apparently ascended, briefly, but seems to have died of natural causes.  In the process, however, he provided legitimacy for his own children as Royal Princes and Princesses to also contest for the throne. Moriya's support of Anahobe led to the death of Prince Anahobe, Prince Yakabe, and Moriya and his family—and many of his supporters, as well.  And yet, despite the loss of the Mononobe and Prince Anahobe, the next heir to the throne, with the approval of Queen Kashikiya Hime, was none other than Prince Hatsusebe, aka Hasebe, a full brother to the rebel Prince Anahobe and the focus of this episode.  If this all seems a bit confusing regarding the individuals and different factions, then congratulations, you've been paying attention.  The narrative certainly seems to be missing some key information, likely lost in the attempt to either whitewash some of the more contentious historical records, or simply due to the Chroniclers' attempts to create a more straightforward narrative out of a complex era which probably saw various courts competing to be recognized as the court that was actually making the decisions—something that doesn't exactly fit in with the attempt to tell the story of a relatively unbroken royal line. And yet, despite the chaos, we do see a solidification of power and control in general, as evidenced by the shift in late 6th century tomb structures.  As I may have mentioned in previous episodes, the Yamato area continued to build monumental round keyhole shaped tombs, but that shape of tomb simultaneously declined in nearby regions, which saw more round or square shaped—or even square keyhole shaped—tombs instead.  On the other hand, at the periphery, at the farthest reaches of the archipelago, we continue to see round keyhole shaped tombs in the Yamato style. This is all likely due to a consolidation of Yamato's power and authority.  Previously we had seen that start with the proliferation of the Yamato style tomb, but even from early times those round keyhole tombs were interspersed with other, typically smaller tombs.  The general assumption, based on the size, grave goods, and other archaeological features, is that the round keyhole tomb, at least in a Yamato context, was reserved for the Yamato royal family and only those of the most elite status.  In the Yamato and Kawachi regions, this seems to have held true, but further afield, local magnates adopted the round keyhole tombs for themselves, perhaps even appropriating some of the prestige of that tomb shape for themselves.  Similarly, it is very likely that Yamato did not have the power to stop local rulers from building whatever the heck they wanted, despite the impression given by the Chroniclers that all was hunky-dory as soon as Mimaki Iribiko and Ikume Iribiko sent out people to subdue the four corners of the archipelago. Whether because of an increased military might, or because of a cultural change in accepting Yamato's leadership, more and more lands seem to have been more directly under Yamato's sway, following their customs and accepting their position in the Yamato hierarchy.  To put it another way: in many parts of the archipelago, particularly those closer to Yamato, we do not see continued claims of “kingship” by the local elite.  They have accepted a lower status in the evolving hierarchy, presumably gaining some security and access to resources of the entire Yamato polity in the process, though that isn't entirely clear to me based purely on the archaeological evidence.  But according to our tomb theory, those on the periphery, where Yamato's control remained the weakest, continued to build their own round keyhole tombs, indicating they still considered themselves somewhat independent, even as they remained influenced by Yamato's overall cultural affectations. Into this world, Prince Hasebe ascended the throne.  Prince Hasebe was another half-brother to Nunakura Futodamashiki.  Like his full brother, Prince Anahobe Hasetsukabe, he was a Soga descendant through the maternal line.  We are told that his ascension was endorsed by Kashikiya Hime, his half-sister, and another Soga-descended royal.  He assumed the throne almost immediately following the turmoil that resulted in Anahobe's death and the destruction of Mononobe no Moriya.  This was in 587, and for the next five years, the reign appeared to be similar to any other, but I suspect that things hadn't quite settled, yet.  How could they?  It seems clear that it was way too easy for political violence to break out, and despite the Chronicles' insistence that everything was fine, many of the systemic issues that led to the violence in the first place were still there. To start with, you still had all of those potential heirs to the throne, and no clear succession tradition or precedence.  On top of that, each household, while created to serve the Court, had grown into its own political entity, vying for their own level of power and control.  No doubt some of this was exacerbated as Yamato's influence grew, bringing more people directly under Yamato's authority. I also can't help but notice that there appears to be a lack of any kind of clear justice system.  In fact, laws in general at this time appear to be based on precedent and tradition, likely oral tradition: although we have writing, we don't have a written system of laws just yet.  We have artifacts with writing on them.  We also have records of books coming over from the continent, which presumably people were able to read.  However, what was writing being used for?  It appears to have been used for communication—for example, diplomatic missions, or to send instructions and receive information back from the various lands under Yamato's rule.  David Lurie notes that this was a kind of practical writing, and it wasn't the same as the kind of extensive journaling that we would see later. It makes sense that much of the laws and traditions at this time were probably based on memorized precedent.  Groups like the Kataribe were organized around an oral tradition, and even the Kojiki was based on a tradition of oral recitation that was still in place by the late 7th century.  I suspect that different families maintained their own memories of precedence and tradition, collectively advising on what should be done in any given situation. This isn't exactly the kind of legal system with firm and fast rules, with everyone equal under the law, and some sort of immutable code.  That wasn't solely because it wasn't written down, mind you—there are plenty of cultures with oral traditions that maintain very clear sets of laws.  However, in this case it was not written down and given what we see and what we know about later court, legal precedent was kept in the memories of various individuals in different families, all of whom were competing for their place in the hierarchical structure that had been created.  Therefore, as long as you could get enough people on your side, then you determined what was just and what was not.  And of course it was the winners who wrote—or at least remembered—the history.   Strong leadership may have been able to keep things stable, but during any change things could get messy, as we've seen time and again.  And had Anahobe and the Mononobe been triumphant we'd likely be reading a very different telling of events. Hasebe's ascension didn't really change any of that, other than the person at the head of the system.  Still, things seemed to hold together alright, and with the recent purges, hopefully things would settle out after a while. The reign started with the standard ceremonies.  Soga no Umako was confirmed as Oho-omi, and though other “Ministers and Daibu”, or high officials, were confirmed, nobody else is named.  Hasebe's palace was set up at Kurahashi, presumably in the hills south of modern Sakurai.  His wife was Koteko, daughter of Ohotomo no Nukade. In his first year, Baekje sent envoys that included Buddhist priests and relics, along with various Buddhist artisans.  We'll probably touch on them more at a later date, but for now I'll note that with their coming, Soga no Umako consulted with them on several matters regarding Buddhism, and then he went ahead and pulled down the house of a man named Konoha and started work on another temple.  This one was known as Hokoji, though it is more popularly known to us by its common name:  Asukadera. Asukadera is perhaps the oldest purpose-built Buddhist temple commissioned by the state, and I think we can do an entire episode just on that temple alone.  The Chronicles make out that it was built to commemorate the supernatural support granted to Umako in his battle against Mononobe no Moriya, though it is impossible to know for certain how much of that is true.  What we can say is that this time there were no dissenting voices from the Mononobe nor the Nakatomi, and Asukadera would become one of the major temples of the Asuka period.  Later, when the capital was built up at Heijo-kyo, in modern Nara, the temple was moved to the new capital, and the complex in Asuka dwindled in importance.  Today you can still visit a temple at the site of Asukadera, but it is a shell of its former self, having been rebuilt on a much smaller footprint than before.   You can, however, go and see the original Buddha statue—or at least the reconstructed form of it, as the original icon was severely damaged in a fire at one point. But building up a proper temple and pagoda in the continental fashion would all take time—for now it appears that they were just breaking ground on a new construction, rather than just repurposing a part of an existing house into the temple, as they had seemingly done in the past.  This was going to take some time.  At the same time, it wasn't just buildings that were needed, and we are told that several Buddhists returned to Baekje along with the envoys.  We are told that they were going to Baekje to gain further instruction in Buddhist teachings. This was the nun Zenshin, daughter of Shiba Tattou, and her companions, who had been ordained at the order of Soga no Umako to help staff his first attempt at building a worship site at his house. The following year, in 589, we are told that there were three “inspections” that were sent out along the various circuits, or roadways, of eastern Honshu.  These circuits were regions of Japan, and come from a continental tradition that would be formalized in the law codes of the early 7th century.  Generally speaking there are usually 7 circuits—8 once Hokkaidou comes into the picture—and then the capital region, often known as the home territories around Yamato and the Nara basin.  Kyushu and Shikoku were each covered by their own circuits:  The Saikaidou, or Western Sea Circuit, covered all of Kyushu, and eventually the Ryukyu islands as well, while the Nankaidou, or Southern Sea circuit covered from the south of the Kii peninsula and the island of Shikoku.  Western Honshu was covered by another two circuits—there was the San'indou, the Mountain Yin Circuit, and the San'yodou, the Mountain Yang Circuit.  Yin being related to the dark and the north, the San'indou covered the areas to the north of the Western mountain range along the Japan Sea coast, from the land of Tanba west to Iwami, including the lands of Inaba and Izumo.  In contrast, Yang was related to the south, and so the San'yodou covered the regions from Harima, next to the land of Settsu, part of modern Ohosaka, and stretched along the southern side of the mountains to the Seto Inland sea to the western land of Nagato, part of modern Yamaguchi Prefecture, and included the ancient land of Kibi. Finally, there were the three circuits of Eastern Honshu, which were the subject of the Chronicles entry in 589.  First off was the Tousando, or the Eastern Mountain Circuit.  Whereas western Honshu can be largely divided by the mountains into a northern and southern region, eastern Honshu was a little different, as the Japanese alps created difficulties that meant that the Tousandou covered the inland regions, starting at Afumi, around lake Biwa, out to Kenu—modern Gunma and Tochigi prefectures, north of Tokyo.  It would eventually include the distant regions of Dewa and Mutsu, which covered much of the Tohoku region up to Hokkaido, although those were still largely outside of the area of Yamato influence, and home to those that the Yamato court called Emishi.  The man sent to inspect this region was named Afumi no Omi no Kamafu—fitting given that Afumi was at the western end of the circuit. Next they sent Shishibito no Omi no Kari to inspect the Toukaidou, or Eastern Sea circuit.  This circuit proceeded from Iga, Ise, and Owari, eastward along the Pacific coast to Hitachi, in modern Ibaraki prefecture.  It includes much of modern Tokyo, and is likely one of the more well known, if only for things like the JR Tokaido line.  This route became well traveled in the Edo period both for the daimyo processions of the sankin-kotai as well as the pilgrimages from Edo to Ise, and onward to points even further west. Finally, we have a member of the Abe no Omi heading out to inspect the Hokurikudou, the Northern Land Circuit.  This was largely the area known in the Chronicles as Koshi, along the Japan Sea Coast.  The Abe family may have had some influence in that region, though it is said that they originally came from the land of Iga, just east of Yamato.  However, we aren't given a specific individual's name—Abe no Omi is just the family name and their kabane rank, and could indicate any member of the Abe family.  This may have to do with the actions of Abe no Hirafu in the late 7th century, but at this point in the story it is unclear.  We are provided the given names of the other inspectors, however—Kamafu and Kari—so it stands out that we have nothing for the inspector of the Hokurikudou other than their family name. Other than the mention of the circuits, and the inspections that the court was conducting, this seems to be a fairly mundane entry—though it does link to some later events.  Still, it provides a little more evidence for the expansion of Yamato's direct control.  The idea that there were court inspectors checking up on these territorial circuits suggests that they were a somewhat active part of the bureaucracy of the court.  Previously the court had set up the Miyake, or royal granaries, which were extensions of royal authority in various areas.  Now we see an additional layer of government that would have been going through the areas and making sure that things were being administered as Yamato believed.  It also suggests that there were those in these circuits who were beholden to Yamato in that they were required to produce some kind of evidence for what they were up to. The year after, in 590, the big news was apparently the return to Japan of Zenshin and others, and we are told that they took up residence at a temple in Sakurai – very possibly a reference to Hokoji or Asukadera, the newly-founded temple we just discussed.  Asuka is outside of the modern bounds of Sakurai city, but at this time the name Sakurai may have referred to a slightly larger and more nebulous area.  On the other hand, they could have settled at another temple in the area that just wasn't part of the state funded program.  In that same vein, later in 590 we are told that people went up into the hills to get timber for building Buddhist temples, and many more people, most of them with connections to the mainland, and especially the Korean peninsula, were ordained.  Buddhism was starting to grow more popular and it was being better patronized by the elites, and soon we will start to see more and more temples popping up. In 591, we see the final burial of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou.  This was now many years since his death, but that isn't entirely surprising given the fighting and general turmoil that followed his death.  Building a tomb mound was not exactly a simple feat, and if one wasn't already prepared by the time he passed away, then it would have taken a while to prepare it—and even more time if much of your labor force was being split and repurposed in the fights for the throne.  As you may recall, Nunakura died of a disease, so it is unlikely that there had been a lot of preparation for his death, so we can assume that his body, after resting in the palace of temporary interment for a while, was eventually given a temporary burial and then they likely were reburying the bones several years later.  This isn't exactly unheard of, but it does seem that this was an exceptionally long period between death and final burial. The location of his tomb is said to be on the western side of the mountains, outside of the Nara Basin, in the area  of modern Taishi, in the south of Ohosaka.  This seems to have been a new region for royal burials, from what I can tell, but there would be several important Asuka era burials located in this region. Later in that same year, Hasebe and the court indulged themselves in something that was becoming almost a tradition:  Wondering aloud if they should go marching over to the peninsula and re-establish Nimna.  There's apparently no thought the fact that Nimna had not been a going concern for quite some time now, and this may have just been the popular casus belli of the Yamato court.  Of course, all of the ministers were for it, agreeing that it would be just the best if they could go over there and get Nimna started again. And so they set in motion the necessary work of gathering an army.  This wasn't a simple task and would take quite some time to get the word out, gather men together, and then have them all meet down in Tsukushi at the court's outpost down there.  Not only that, but there would need to be boats made, and armor and weapons would have to be ready.  This was quite the undertaking.  We are told that they eventually gathered over 20,000 men, though that could easily be an exaggeration.  They named five generals, or Taishogun.  This is different from the “Shogun” of later years—the Sei-I Taishogun, or General for Subduing Barbarians.  This is just the title of general, Taishogun, and there were apparently five people who were running things—possibly referring to five different forces that were going to go over, or it may have been a political thing to ensure that people of rank were given opportunities.  It is interesting to see the names, as we have heard some of the family names, at least, before. The five generals were:  Ki no Womaro no Sukune, Kose no Omi no Hirafu, Kashiwade no Omi no Katafu, Ohotomo no Kuhi no Muraji, and Katsuraki no Wonara no Omi.  Then various other Omi and Muraji level individuals were placed in charge below them.  They were all stationed in Tsukushi and two men, Kishi no Kana and Kishi no Itahiko were sent to Silla and Nimna respectively, presumably to try to work something out before things got ugly. That was all listed in the 11th month of 591, and preparations were still ongoing by the time of the next entry, in the 10th month of 592. So remember how I mentioned at the top of the episode about how many of the systemic issues that had led to so much war and bloodshed were still a thing?  Yeah—despite the seemingly rosy and downright mundane picture of the last five years, things were apparently not quite as stable as they may have appeared.  And I say that because of what happened in the 10th month of 592. We are told that this was the winter, possibly around late November or December according to our modern calendar—trying to map ancient lunar calendar dates to modern solar dates are a whole thing, trust me.  Anyway, it was during this season that someone brought in a wild boar and presented it to the sovereign.  And there was nothing too sus going on there—it wasn't a white boar or some kind of unusually large animal.  No, what was remarkable wasn't the presentation at all, but what it kicked off, because apparently Hasebe looked at the boar and made an off-hand comment, which Aston translates as: “When shall those to whom We have an aversion be cut off as this wild boar's throat has been cut.” Just in case you didn't get the allusion, he was basically wondering when those people whom he didn't like would be killed—though possibly he meant cut off in another sense, I think it is pretty clear that he wanted some people taken care of, if you know what I mean.  I would liken it to a phrase attributed to King Henry II of England, who is said to have wondered aloud, “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest”, which led to several men heading out and eventually killing Thomas Becket, the then Archbishop of Canterbury.  While Henry may not have actually ordered the killing of Thomas Becket, with whom he'd been in something of a power struggle, his words certainly ended up being the catalyst that led to the archbishop's eventual demise. Similarly here, that certainly seems to have been the intent, or at least that is how it was taken.  Word of the sovereign's outburst made it back to none other than Soga no Umako, the Oho-omi himself, who grew more than a little bit worried.  It didn't help that word was also coming that the royal household was apparently stockpiling weapons—more than usual. Soga no Umako came to believe that Hasebe was talking about him, and though there wasn't a particular reason given, it suggests that there were some things going on below the surface detailed by the Chronicles, and we can speculate on a few of them. First off, Hasebe had not been the first choice for sovereign, and he didn't really enter the picture until after the death of his brother, Prince Anahobe. Anahobe had, of course, believed that he should take the throne himself, but then he was killed.  It is possible that Hasebe was appointed sovereign to appease some of Anahobe's supporters against the wishes of those such as Soga no Umako. Second, it is clear that Umako was immensely influential and powerful, and he probably had more influence than the sovereign himself.  Always remember that if someone raises an army and helps put you on the throne, rather than themselves, they usually have the ability to do the same thing in reverse.  Or, as so many parents are fond of saying: I brought you into this world, I can take you out!  So it may be that Hasebe felt threatened by Umako's own power and felt he needed to be dealt with before Soga no Umako decided that he'd rather have someone more pliable on the throne.  Of course, in another time it might have been enough to just demote him, but it is unclear if Hasebe actually had the power to do that—and if he did, would it stick. There is also another option as well—Hasebe may not have said anything at all, and it is possible that this was a story concocted to explain Umako's own reaction.  This is hinted at, somewhat, in another account that basically comes in once again with the tired “blame the woman” trope.  It suggests that Ohotomo no Koteko, Hasebe's consort and the mother to his two children, started the whole thing as a rumor.  According to this account, she was “declining in favor”—although it is unclear just whom else she was competing against.  If that record is correct, she was the one who told Umako about what Hasebe was purportedly saying, knowing that it would cause problems for her husband because she was unhappy with him.  Even if that were true, we don't know whether or not Hasebe actually said what is attributed to him. Again, regardless of what Hasebe actually said, all of this suggests that things were not as solid and stable as they might otherwise appear to be, and suggests just how literally cut-throat the politics of the Yamato court could get. And so, Soga no Umako took this threat quite seriously, and he engaged the services of one Yamato no Aya no Atahe no Koma. We don't know much about Koma.  The Yamato no Aya were one of several Aya families, and their name suggests that they were descended, at least in part, from ethnic Han Chinese weavers—or at least traced their lineage back to the continent with claims to the Han dynasty, just as the Hata family claimed ties back to the Qin dynasty.  They had been in Japan for generations, but are still often associated with various technologies that came over from the continent. There is also a record, we are told, that says Koma's father was Yamato no Aya no Iwai—whose name is suspiciously similar to that of the Iwai in Tsukushi, or Kyushu, who had allied with Silla and tried to block trade and military support between Yamato and Baekje.  It is possible, and even probable, that this was just a coincidence—after all, why would the son of a rebel who had so aggravated Yamato be in the court at all?  But it was considered significant enough for the Chroniclers to mention it at the same time, and that may be because of the relationship back to that other rebel. Now, for Koma to take action, he and Umako would need to act quickly.  Soga no Umako sent a message to the court ministers and claimed that he was sending someone to present the taxes of the Eastern provinces.  As you may recall from earlier in this episode, a few years earlier inspectors had been sent out along the three eastern circuits.  It would have taken them time to survey, compile their information, and collect any taxes owed, and bring that back to the court.  Umako lied to the other ministers and said that the taxes were ready, and he was sending someone to the sovereign to present the taxes. Of course, he was really sending Yamato no Aya no Koma, and in lieu of taxes he brought death—somewhat fitting if you think about it.  Koma killed the sovereign and then, somehow, made his escape.  Unlike some of the other killings we aren't given too many details of the deed itself. What we are given is the aftermath.  For later in that same month, Soga no Umako had Koma himself killed.  And this is where I find it really weird, or perhaps the Chroniclers were just in denial.  They claimed that Soga no Umako had learned that Koma had been having a clandestine relationship with Kawakami no Iratsume, herself a consort of the sovereign and Soga no Umako's own daughter.  Koma had apparently taken her back to his place to live and made her his wife in secret—basically saying that they had carnal relations together as man and wife, though it is not clear whether or not they were consensual.  Umako thought that his daughter was dead, but when he learned that Yamato no Aya no Koma had taken her, he had Koma killed. And that just all seems so very convenient.  So Soga no Umako has enough influence over Koma to get him to assassinate the sovereign, but somehow misses that his co-conspirator in this has eloped with his daughter, and then kills him out of apparently justified rage?  Uh-huh.  Nothing fishy about that at all. I suspect that what happened at the time versus what was later recorded differed slightly.  Assuming that most of it was accurate, I wouldn't be surprised if Umako got Koma to do the dirty deed, and then offed him, possibly so that he would not be immediately implicated.  Even so, what were the laws around such events?  With Hasebe gone, and nobody else in power to challenge him, Soga no Umako was one of the most powerful people around.  He just didn't have the parental qualifications to take the throne himself. And that is probably what saved him from being labeled a rebel, himself.  After all, you don't get much more rebellious than killing the king.  But is it rebellion when it is self-defense?  Here is where the lack of a strict law code likely came down on the side of Soga no Umako, because despite his involvement, nobody seems to have gone after him or taken him to task.  In fact, he would remain a powerful figure in the Yamato court for years to come. There are also several figures who seem to have remained absent from all of this, but it would be interesting to know where they came down.  The first was Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi.  Did he sanction or even take part in this plot?  Umayado was still somewhat young, so he may not have had much to say at this point.  Then there was Kashikiya Hime, Nunakura's queen.  Presumably, she had been the one to recommend Hasebe to the throne, but we also see her hand in the decision to punish Anahobe and the Mononobe, which we discussed over the last couple of episodes.  She is often kept at arms length in the narrative, however, which may be because of what the Chroniclers already knew.  With the court once more in need of an heir they searched high and low, and the assembled ministers finally settled on the candidate they thought would be the best of all of them:  Kashikiya Hime herself.  It makes sense: Kashikiya Hime, who is known today as Suiko Tennou, clearly knew how the court operated.  She had sanctioned, if not outright directed, the deaths of Anahobe and Mononobe no Moriya. On the other hand, the patriarchal society of the day—and even that of modern day scholars—questioned her fitness for the job.  Many have pointed to the strongman tactics of Soga no Umako, as well as the focus on Prince Umayado, whom she made her Crown Prince and whom, we are told, assisted in all areas of government.  In fact, it often seems as though Umayado and Umako are the ones actually running things, with Kashikiya Hime as a puppet.  On the other hand, perhaps there was something even more complex—a conspiracy between Umako, Umayado, and Kashikiya Hime.  She may have also been something of a compromise candidate, someone that all of the different factions could get behind. We'll explore all of that and more as we get into her reign in the coming episodes, along with the role played by Prince Umayado.  We'll also look more in depth at the spread of Buddhism, and the temple building that would pick up shortly after Kashikiya Hime came to power.  Until then, thank you for listening and 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.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. 

This episode we set the stage for one of the most momentous conflicts of the 6th century.  A lot of change is coming to the islands, and the outcome of the power struggles would determine just what shape that change would take. For more see our podcast webpage:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-90   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 90: Setting the Stage So when last we left off, the sovereign Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, had passed away, and there had been some early flirting with Buddhism, which largely ended up pitting members of the relatively new Soga family against the powerful forces of the ancient Mononobe, as well as their allies, the Nakatomi.  It even got so bad that the heads of the two houses, Soga no Umako and Mononobe no Moriya, were openly mocking each other at the sovereign's funeral.  And unfortunately, things weren't getting better any time soon. In fact, I should probably warn you that around this point in the narrative we are really going to get all Game of Thrones on the archipelago.  Family against family, sibling against sibling, with deadly political intrigue.  And as we get into it, we should talk about a few things up front to help put everything in context. So let's come back up to speed on the situation, shall we?  In the late 6th century, the royal court was in its third dynasty.  The sovereign, Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou,  died from a plague that settled on the land.  Across the straits, the once small kingdom of Silla was on the rise, having gobbled up the small polities around it, including Yamato's apparent ally, Nimna.  Now the southern peninsula was largely divided between two kingdoms, Silla and Baekje.  Both were in contact with the Yamato court.  And then there is the far distant northern power of Goguryeo, pressing southward themselves. Yamato's involvement on the peninsula meant there was quite a bit of cross-strait intercourse—in more ways than one.  There were Wa on the peninsula, but there were also groups of Baekje, Silla, and Goguryeo men and women who settled in the archipelago.  They brought with them various innovations and ways of thinking.  One of these things was the concept of corporate “Be” families.  Now, don't get me wrong, there clearly were families in the archipelago and had been for some time, but at some point we see the literal creation of the official families, the Uji: Groups of people who shared a similar job, gathered together under a family head, who in turn was given a place in the Yamato court.  The family then regulated the business of its members to the benefit of the court.  These created families, usually marked with the suffix of “Be”, became an outgrowth of the court's power, and they were in turn ranked with a collectivist title, or “kabane”.  The highest ranking uji were given the titles of “Muraji” and “Omi”, and the heads of those households were known as the “Ohomuraji” and the “Ohoomi”. One of the oldest of these families, on one side of this growing interal conflict, was known as the Mononobe.  They claimed a likely fictional descent from Nigi Hayahi, a “Heavenly grandchild”, similar to the ancestor of the royal family, Ninigi no Mikoto - an illustrious backstory that no doubt helped justify their position.  As for the rest, well, “Mononobe” literally translates to “the be of things” … and in this case, those things were weapons, reflecting a historical role of this important family as the enforcers and the heavyweights of the Yamato court.   Of course, they weren't the only ones with access to troops and weapons, as we've seen various families raising troops to go fight on the continent, and one can only assume that most powerful individuals at least had those they could call upon in case things got physical.  For all that administrative power was rooted in spiritual authority, physical power was also important, and we see this in the way that armor and swords were important elite grave goods, and not just for a single family. But few groups were so clearly tied to the exercise of martial power as were the Mononobe.  And they wielded that power on the behalf of the sovereign and the State.  Whether it was punishing rebels, or just executing the cruel whims of a violent and entitled ruler, the Mononobe were the ones, more often than not, knocking down your door in the middle of the night and dragging off those deemed enemies of the state. This position was such that you can see evidence of it in the earliest parts of the Chronicles.  For example, the Mononobe are connected to their ancestral shrine of Isonokami, one of the oldest shrines mentioned.  It was said to be the home of the sword that Susanoo no Mikoto, the wild brother of Amaterasu, used to slay the giant, 8-headed serpent, Yamata no Orochi, generally seen as a metaphor for Yamato conquering parts of Izumo.  Then there were the piles of swords made and stored at the shrine, which make it sound less like a place of spiritual worship and more like an armory—though let's face it, for some people those are basically one and the same. Add to that all of the times that the Mononobe were called upon to unalive some opponent to the throne, and we get a pretty clear picture of how they had for so long held a place at the very top of the court structure. On the other side is the Soga family, currently personified with Soga no Umako at their head.  While the Soga certainly traced their lineage back a respectable distance, including to Takechi no Sukune and others, at this point they are clearly relatively new, with their earliest mention coming in the reign of Wakatakiru, aka Yuryaku Tenno, in the late 5th century, about 100 years before,  and they had no clear spiritual center of note, at least in the Chronicles.  One source of their power and authority came through their connections with the continent, primarily with Baekje, and related families.  The other part was through their marriages, especially the daughters of Soga no Iname.  Up to this point, the descendants of Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennō, had been ensuring that their queens were members of the previous dynasty.  This gave them and their offspring connections back to those other lineages helping bolster their claims to an unbroken lineage and their right to rule over Yamato.  While the sovereigns might marry daughters of other houses, those wouldn't typically be named as queens, although they might be expected to raise royal princes and maybe future queens.  Often these were political marriages that enhanced the court's connections to various regions.  A few particularly influential family names also appear, such as Katsuraki, Okinaga, and the Wani no Omi.  Still, the success of those families pales next to what Soga no Iname enjoyed in a single reign.  Soga no Iname had achieved what few others had.  He was the head of his family, one of the few of the Omi, or ministerial, kabane; and he had the personal title of Sukune, one of the highest honorifics attainable by an individual.  Both of those spoke to his power at court.  And when he passed away, he was succeeded in his post by his son, Soga no Umako, who was also made Ohoomi and who also held the honorific of Sukune.  Moreover, and perhaps more importantly, Soga no Iname married two of his daughters (Umako's sisters), Kitashi Hime and Wonane Gimi, to Ame Kunioshi, that is, Kimmei Tennou.  Both of them had a number of sons who were also royal princes.  And one of Kitashi Hime's daughters, Kashikiya Hime, then went on to marry Ame Kunioshi's son and successor (and her own half-brother), Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou – and when Nunakura's own wife passed on, he elevated Kashikiya Hime to the rank of queen. Long story short, the immediate children and grandchildren of Soga no Iname were in a great position.  Soga no Umako was a powerful person at court, and brother and uncle not just to a number of the royal princes of Ame Kuniyoshi's line, but to Nunakura's queen as well, which gave him some powerful sway.  We are also told that he had taken as his wife the younger sister of Mononobe no Moriya, likely as an attempt to bring the two families closer together.  Spoiler alert:  it didn't. All of those royal princes of Soga descent would not have been eligible for the throne under normal circumstances.  But here's where things get a little dicey.  Nunakura had been the son of Ame Kunioshi and Ishi Hime, who was, herself, the daugther of former sovereign Takewo Hiro Kunioshi.  Of course Takewo's mother had come from the Owari no Muraji, a sister clan to the Mononobe, but the Nihon Shoki glosses over that by claiming Takewo was just holding the throne until his more legitimate brother was ready.  Still, long story short, Nunakura was the direct descendant of at least two previous sovereigns, so one would imagine that he would be succeeded by his son, Hikobito no Ohine, son of Nunakura and his previous Queen, Hiro Hime.  And yet, Hikobito was probably relatively young, and besides Nunakura there were numerous other sons of Ame Kunioshi – conveniently, for the Soga, through his Soga descended wives.  One was Kashikiya Hime's brother, Tachibana no Toyohi, and there were also her half-brothers from her aunt, Wonane Gimi, including Princes Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Miko and Hatsusebe—or just Hasebe—no Miko.  Remember that there is no such thing at this point as primogeniture—it doesn't matter if you are the oldest son of the previous sovereign, and the throne commonly passed to brothers before it went to sons and nephews. Finally, there is Kashikiya Hime herself, niece of Soga no Umako and newly elevated queen of Nunakura.  While some women may have been content to simply raise the future generation of sovereigns, there is plenty to indicate that Kashikiya Hime was a highly political animal in her own right.  On top of that, although her grandfather had passed away, her uncle, Soga no Umako, had taken his place at one of the top spots in court.  She was around 34 years old when she became queen, and 42 when Nunakura passed away.  She knew the ins and outs of the court, and she seems to have favored her uncle and her Soga family. And so, when Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou, died of plague, the stage was set for a political challenge – to determine just who will be the next sovereign, and more than that, which family – and even which branch of which family – will take the reins in directing matters on the archipelago going forward. Now, before we get much further, I have to warn you, the sources we have are clearly biased when it comes to the events they were recording.  I mention this because many of the stories in this highly dynamic period and I don't want to keep caveating everything all the time. So let me get a lot of it out of the way now, before we get into the really juicy bits.  This also goes for some of the stuff in the last few episodes as well.  While the Chronicles were built from records that survived into the 8th century it is clear that not every family is equally represented, and it is also clear that the Chroniclers, who knew the outcome, were massaging the narrative in certain ways.  And so we get a narrative of how the Mononobe were enemies of Buddhism, attempting to stop it from spreading and trying to protect the indigenous worship of the kami.  They were assisted in this by the Nakatomi, a family of court ritualists, who no doubt were also out to stop Buddhism's progress.  As for the sovereigns, Ame Kunioshi, and Nunakura, while they weren't necessarily Buddhist, they are portrayed as essentially neutral, going back and forth between the advice of their ministers as they fought, internally. Most of this comes from the Nihon Shoki.  The Sendai Kuji Hongi gives a much more abbreviated version of the actual history, and the Kojiki is pretty much focused just on the lineages at this point.  By that point, a lot had happened, and neither the Soga nor the Mononobe were necessarily running things anymore. Michael Como, in his book, “Shotoku”, suggests that, in all probability, Ame Kunioshi and Nunakura were likewise hostile to this new religion, and I think I can see that.  After all, they had to realize it was a threat to their own authority as the dedicated interpreters of the will of their ancestral kami.  It may be that the positions put forth by the Mononobe and the Nakatomi were, indeed, their actual thoughts on the matter, but it isn't as if the Mononobe just went ahead and destroyed the Soga temples—twice!—on their own.  They first made sure to get an order from the sovereign, an order that may not have taken much arm twisting to issue. Como and others also point out that there is a problem with another often overlooked aspect of the struggles as they are portrayed.  The typical narrative pits the “foreign” religion of Buddhism against the “indigenous” religion of the way of the kami—what would eventually be known as Shinto, but at this point really didn't have any particular name.  The usual way of telling this story is that native religionists were simply pushing back against a foreign incursion, and even though Buddhism would thrive in the Japanese archipelago, and even come to be another tool of the state, there was a certain conflict that always remained, due in large part to the ceremonial role that the sovereign was supposed to inhabit. The problem is that there is nothing that clearly indicates that the so-called indigenous religions were appreciably less foreign to the islands.  Even the earliest stories that were recorded in the Nihon Shoki, which depicts Japan as a special place, formed by the kami themselves, there are clear connections to the continent.  In some cases, like with Ame no Hiboko and Himegoso, we have deities coming over directly from the continent as princes and princesses of foreign lands.  In others, like with some of the stories of Susano'o, we see the kami coming down from Heaven and first setting foot in the world on the Korean peninsula.  Combined with a plethora of other clues, at the very least we can assume that the ways of the kami, including stories and rituals, were heavily influenced by continental thoughts and ideas, some of which may have arrived more than a century earlier.  On the other hand, the use of horizontal tomb chambers is a pretty clear archaeological change that we can see happening.  We first saw this tomb design back in the 5th century in Kyūshū, and in the 6th century it had spread across the archipelago, becoming the dominant form.  But how does that connect to continental influence on indigenous spiritual and religious practice? I think we can generally agree that tombs, beyond the practical idea of not allowing corpses to just sit around above ground, rotting and breeding disease, were largely concerned with what we consider religious concepts about the afterlife.  Sure, there is the political capital achieved by reminding everyone just who's in charge, but it is designed around the needs of the rituals surrounding the treatment of the deceased.  Hence the grave goods, as well as the clay, stone, or even wood pillars and statues erected around them.  So when the burials go from relatively simple pits, dug in the top of these massive burial mounds to more complex chambers of giant stone blocks, which show evidence of people using multiple times, then we can gather that something changed in the rituals surrounding death and the afterlife.  Those changes are reflected in the stories about the kami, including stories about Izanagi and Izanami, about Susano'o, and even about Amaterasu in the Heavenly Rock Cave, which all have imagery associated with this new kind of burial practice.  That suggests that these stories either originated in a time when the horizontal burial chambers were prevalent, or at least they were changed and updated as ritual life also changed. And most of these changes can be traced back to the continent.  We can see evidence, there, of horizontal stone chambers, and then trace that influence as it makes its way to Kyūshū and then the rest of the archipelago. This isn't to say that there weren't elements that were conceived of on the archipelago itself.  Certainly local traditions evolved to meet the needs of the people, but not without outside influence.  Even today, modern Shintō includes concepts from Daoism, geomancy, and general Yin-Yang theory, among other things, while retaining its own character. The point is that the argument that the resistance to Buddhism was purely because of is foreign nature seems laughably false, and yet that has been the view reinforced within the cultural imaginary of the Japanese for centuries, and it would go on to define the separate roles of Shintō and Buddhism in relation to the State for most of that time. As we look at what takes place, however, just keep in mind that this was much more about sheer, naked, political power, regardless of how later generations tried to make it look.  Also, it is unlikely that were any clear villains or heroes, either.  Real people are complex, and motivations are rarely straight forward. And with that, let's get back to the funeral of Nunakura.  The throne was empty, except for the presence of the Queen, Kashikiya Hime, who continued to reside in the palace presumably receiving guests and whatever the Yamato version of funeral potatoes was—probably some kind of dried fish. The succession at this point wasn't exactly clear.  Nunakura had a son, Hikobito, who was no doubt the heir presumptive, but there is nothing explicitly stating as much.  Ame Kunioshi had been quite prolific, and many of Nunakura's brothers or half brothers were still running around.  In addition, though unstated in the Chronicles, Hikobito was not the son of Kashikiya Hime, and so it remains unclear just how motivated she was to help him ascend the throne. The first to act to resolve this uncertainty was a Prince that was neither a direct sibling of Nunakura nor of Kashikiya Hime.  It was Hatsusekabe Anahobe no Miko.  Like Kashikiya Hime, he was a grandchild of the illustrious Soga no Iname, except that he descended through Iname's younger daughter, Wonane Gimi. Anahobe seemed to have clear designs on the throne.  He marched straight up to the Palace of interment, and demanded entry to see his half sister.  This was the location, it would seem, where Nunakura's body was lying in state, prior to burial.  However, given some of the accompanying statements, I suspect they may have been using Nunakura's own Palace for this purpose, and his queen, Kashikiya Hime, was likewise residing there, possibly out of loyalty and expectations, but also because where else was she to go on short notice? The steward in charge of the Palace at that time was a man by the name of Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe, also just known as Sakahe no Kimi.  He was suspicious of Anahobe, and his intentions.  After all, it wouldn't take much for Anahobe to force his way in, force himself on Nunakura's queen, claim they were married and therefore he deserved to rule.  It wouldn't be the first time that a sovereign had married the queen, out at least a consort or daughter, of the former ruler to strengthen their own claim.  Kashikiya was double prized as she was born the daughter of Ame Kunioshi and the Queen of Nunakura. Sakahe no Kimi want about to let that happen, however.  We are told that he had faithfully served the royal family up to that point, and it didn't look like he was about to just lay down now, not even for a prince of the blood. This pissed off Anahobe to no end.  He left, incensed, and started talking smack about Sakahe no Kimi to anyone who would listen.  In particular, he complained to the two Great Ministers, which I can only assume to mean Soga no Umako and Mononobe no Moriya, the Ohomi and Ohomuraji of the court.  He mentioned how, at the eulogy, Sakahe had said that the court of Nunakura would not be left desolate, and that he, Sakahe, would keep it pure as the surface of a mirror.  Who was he to make such a bold claim to be the defender of Nunakura's virtue, especially when there were so many total princes and the court Ministers themselves?  And on top of that, he had the temerity to deny Anahobe access to the Palace of interment seven times.  For such insolence, he demanded the authority to put Sakahe no Kimi to death.  They both agreed, and next thing you know, prince Anahobe grabbed a bunch of troops, along with Mononobe no Moriya, the King's Hand of the ancient Yamato Court, and put together a posse to go bring justice, in the form of a quick sword to the back of the neck, to Sakahe no Kimi. This was not exactly a quiet affair, however, and when the assembled forces of the aggrieved princes rolled up on the home of Sakahe no Kimi, in Ikenobe, in Iware, he had already split, hightailing it up Mt. Miwa.  He then climbed down in the night and made straightaway for Kashikiya Hime's country house in Tsubaki-ichi.  There he went to hide out and lay low, as Kashikiya Hime still had his back. However, it wasn't only the royal family that had some people with divided loyalties, and two of Sakahe's own relatives, Shiratsutsumi and Yokoyama, decided to turn him in, apparently trying to cozy up with Anahobe, whose star appeared to be on the rise. Knowing where Sakahe was hiding out, Anahobe and his brother, Hasebe, ordered Mononobe no Moriya to head out and treat Sakahe as though he were being played by none other than Sean Bean himself.  Not only that, they were to kill his sons as well, ending his direct line.  Moriya accepted this duty without hesitation, once again gathering a large force and setting out. I would point out at this point that Sakahe was clearly a close confidant of the previous sovereign, Nunakura, and he was seeking refuge at Queen Kashikiya Hime's summer cottage—we aren't told if she was there, or still at the palace of interment, but either way, Moriya's forces were moving against her property. As Soga no Umako heard about this, he quickly came to the conclusion that going after Sakahe, and invading the Queen's residence to do so, was one of those Really Bad Ideas.  Sure, he may have initially agreed to Sakahe being punished, because there was an order to things, and no doubt Sakahe's actions threatened that order—though it is also possible that the two “Chief Ministers” mentioned in the text were others, as nobody is specifically named, so it is possible he was just learning about this for the first time, but doubtful.  Still, he was now against it.  Perhaps it was the clear involvement of Kashikiya Hime, or maybe it was the thought of killing the innocent kids.  Or possibly Umako had come to realize the truth—that this was simply an excuse for Anahobe to take the throne for himself. Whatever the reason, Umako went to his nephew Anahobe and pleaded with him not to go out with Moriya.  He suggested that, at the very least, it would be unseemly for him to go himself.  Anahobe was determined, however, and so he headed out to meet Mononobe no Moriya and to see to Sakahe's end, personally. Here the Chronicles diverge, giving us two slightly different accounts.  In one story, Umako tagged along, and eventually he was able to persuade Anahobe not to go himself, and Anahobe finally relented.  However, shortly thereafter, Moriya returned with news that he had executed Sakahe no Kimi and the others. In the other account, it is Anahobe himself who ended Sakahe no Kimi and his line, demonstrating that he was not afraid to get his hands dirty. Either way, Soga no Umako realized that this was not the end of it, and that there would likely be more violence.  He was clearly upset that Anahobe hadn't listened to him to call the whole thing off, and Kashikiya Hime, well, I think we can see why she may not have been happy.  The Chronicles say they both conceived enmity against Prince Anahobe, even though he was their nephew and cousin, respectively. Now this was all happening shortly after Nunakura's death—Nunakura died in 585, and this is all taking place between then and late 586 – and clearly it's related to a question of succession.  However, the Chronicles try to claim that there was, in fact, a sitting sovereign at that time.  That honor went to none other than Kashikiya Hime's own full brother, Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou.  So given what we've discussed about Anahobe's antics in trying to marry Kashikiya, what's up with that, and where did Toyohi come from? Why Toyohi was selected, or even how he was selected, is a bit strange.  We are told that he was the fourth child of Ame Kunioshi, and as I mentioned, he was the full brother of Kashikiya Hime, making him a son of Kitashi Hime and a grandson of Soga no Iname.  We are also told that he believed in the Law of the Buddha and also Revered the Way of the Kami.  Finally, we are told that his capital was set in Iware—specifically at the Ikenobe no Namitsuki no Miya.  If that sounds familiar, it is because Ikenobe, in Iware, was also the location of our Sean Bean stand-in, Miwa no Kimi no Sakahe's, house as well—a strange coincidence in a tumultuous time. Toyohi wasn't long on the throne.  During the feast of first fruits, the Niinamesai, which was performed on a riverbank in Iware, Toyohi took ill.  The Niinamesai is typically observed on or about the 23rd day of the 11th month of the old lunisolar calendar, which could have been as late as December or even early January, meaning that it was likely cold, and possibly even cold and wet, especially along a riverbank.  It brings to mind the story of US President William Henry Harrison, who gave his inaugural address on a cold and wet day, and ended up catching pneumonia weeks later, passing away shortly thereafter.  In a similar vein, Toyohi's illness grew worse and worse, and so he requested that he be able to give worship to the Three Precious Things, which is to say Buddhism, likely hoping that worshipping the Buddha would cure him.  Obviously, Soga no Umako was in favor of this, having tried to get his own temple started in the previous reign, but both Mononobe no Moriya and Nakatomi no Katsumi both opposed it, claiming he would be turning his back on the kami of the Japanese archipelago.  It was déjà vu all over again. The tie breaker in this case came from what might seem an unusual source.  It was Prince Anahobe himself who found a priest and brought him to his elder half-brother's side.  The records simply state that it was Toyohi's “younger brother”, but a note in the Nihon Shoki explains that Prince Anahobe is assumed to be the one they mean.  This is bolstered, somewhat, by the fact that Toyohi is said to have been married to *Princess* Hasetsukabe Anahobe no Himemiko.  That's right, Toyohi had married Anahobe's sister, which may have also made them closer than even normal bonds of kinship would account for.  Thus, whatever designs Anahobe had on the throne seem to have been overcome by his desire to help his half-brother, an apparently touching moment. Unfortunately, it didn't help.  Toyohi grew worse and worse and eventually it was clear that he wasn't going to make it.  Kuratsukuri Be no Tasuna, a son of Shiba Tattou, offered to become a monk on Toyohi's behalf and help make merit for him.  Shiba Tattou had been the one to help Soga no Umako with his first attempt at setting up a temple, including having his daughter ordained as a nun, so this seems rather on brand for him.  It is interesting that Tasuna is mentioned as a member of the Kuratsukuri Be, however—the guild of saddle makers.  Once again, related to horses and thus back to Baekje and the continent. Tasuna offered to make a Buddha image that was about 16 feet high, and to build a temple.  The Chronicles say that this temple, along with its attendant Boddhisatvas, was still around several centuries later at the temple of Sakata in Minabuchi, which would appear to place it in the region of Asuka, the Soga family stronghold. Toyohi's reign was extremely short—assuming, of course, that he reigned at all.  As we've already discussed with Anahobe's Game of Thrones antics, it seems like things were generally still up in the air, though it is quite possible that since Toyohi was Kashikiya Hime's full brother, she deferred to him and helped him take the throne as everything else was going on.  It is just as likely, though, that the Chroniclers needed someone to fill the space, and he fit the bill.  There are a couple of things that suggest this interpretation.  First off are his offspring, specifically two.  One was Nukade Hime, who he made the Ise Princess, which is to say the Royal Princess, or Himemiko, who was assigned to the shrine of Amaterasu in Ise.  There is some question about the actual importance of Ise at this point, but there wouldn't be by the 8th century, and so to the Chroniclers this would have been an important point to make, even though there is some scholarly thought that Ise really wasn't that big of a deal until around the time of the Temmu dynasty. The other child of Tachibana no Toyohi is very important – someone we've touched on briefly, and I'll probably go into a whole episode on in not too much longer:  Prince Umayado.  Aka the Prince of the Kamitsu Palace, or Kamitsumiya.  He's better known as Shotoku Taishi, and he holds a special place in Japan's cultural identity about itself and Buddhism. For anyone who hasn't heard of Shotoku Taishi, I'll try to break it down quickly.  As I said, we need to do at least one episode on him at some point.  “Shotoku Taishi” is the single individual most credited with spreading Buddhism in Japan – the most mentioned, though he wasn't the first.  The problem is that this means there are a lot of stories around him and his accomplishments, such that it is hard to pull out fact from fiction.  Much like Yamato Takeru, Shotoku Taishi's legend had already grown by the time the Nihon Shoki was being written, to the point that different temples were almost fighting over who got to write the narratives about him and whose stories were taken as factual.  Think about George Washington chopping down the cherry tree and you get the picture of the kinds of cultural imaginaries that get attached to Prince Shotoku. And so it is little wonder that this very important figure's father, Tachibana no Toyohi, gets credited with at least a few years on the throne, whether or not he ever actually sat as the ruler.  It provides even that much more legitimacy to Prince Umayado's later accomplishments—or at least the accomplishments that were attributed to him.  It also might explain why Toyohi's own story centers so much on his belief in Buddhism as well.  There is a point made of talking about the fact that Toyohi believed in Buddhism, and he is the first sovereign we have to actively seek out the worship of Buddhism.  Once again, it is hard to know if he was truly sovereign—I tend to feel like this whole period was one of the periods where the court couldn't initially get united behind a single person, and what we are seeing is more after-the-fact ascensions to boost the lineage.  But the dispute over Buddhism is clearly the centerpiece here for something much greater. But we haven't gone full family-on-family war yet, which brings us back to Mononobe no Moriya.  He was clearly not happy about the whole situation with the sovereign ignoring his advice and performing more Buddhist worship, and it didn't help that the powerful prince Anahobe had stepped in on the side of the pro-Buddhist faction.  They had just been out murdering people together, and now Anahobe turned his back on him.  Moriya likely felt tossed aside. I've seen some suggestion that the Mononobe house and the Soga house at this time were equals.  Sure, the Nihon Shoki uses the “Omi” and “Muraji” kabane, with “Omi” having a distinctly more prominent feel, but it is possible that the two families were actually of equal rank. There's the fact that the text at one time references “The Two Oho-omi”, which is generally taken to just mean the two “Chief Ministers”, Umako and Moriya, but which could also be seen as acknowledging that Moriya stood on equal footing with Umako.  There is also a note in the Sendai Kuji Hongi that suggests that Moriya was made both Ohomuraji—that is, head of the house—and also a high Minister, or Omi.  It is unclear what this means, but probably similarly placed him on equal footing with Umako. Certainly in the discussions up to this point, the Mononobe often had the favor of the court over the wishes of the Soga, especially when it came to burning down their Buddhist establishments. Now, however, the Soga were clearly ascendant.  The grandsons of Soga no Iname were Royal Princes, and that shifted the power dynamics.  Even Anahobe was a Soga descendant.  It is easy to see how Moriya was likely feeling isolated and even belittled by the court.  Enter Iago… I mean Oshisakabe no Kekuso, who bent Moriya's ear and convinced him that all of the other ministers were now plotting against him.  More than that, they were about to ambush him and take him out of the picture altogether. And was that so strange?  Hadn't something similar just happened with Sakahe no Kimi when the powerful people of the court found him too troublesome?  Moriya himself had helped carry that out and bring it about.  This was not exactly a time where one was innocent until proven guilty, and if you wanted someone out of the picture, well, it was hard for them to tell their story from inside a massive burial mound.  This was a dangerous time to be on the political outs. And so we are told that Mononobe no Moriya retired.  He left the court and went to Ato, where he had his own country-house.  This would have been in a Mononobe stronghold.  It is often thought to have meant somewhere on the Kawachi plain, around Yao, on southeastern edge of the modern metropolis of Ohosaka, and outside of the Nara Basin.  There he gathered a force of troops around him, presumably for his own protection.  Allies, such as Nakatomi no Katsumi, came to his aid. As Umako had predicted, this whole thing was not going to end well.  The two most powerful ministers at court had been feuding since the death of the previous sovereign.  They had broken on policy, on religion, and even on threats to the throne. And now one of them had holed up in their own stronghold and was building an army.  Meanwhile you still had a bunch of princes running around, all of them possibly eligible to ascend and take the throne of Yamato for themselves.   The storm clouds of war had gathered, and people were taking sides.  Whatever happened, its clear that it would have momentous consequences for everyone involved—at least, if they lived to see it through. Until next time, thank you for listening and 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.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

En este episodio me acompañan tres mujeres extraordinarias, valientes y con un objetivo claro: Mujeres alzando la voz contra la violencia ginecológica y obstétrica. Liora y Miwa, Co-fundadoras de @conovarios.mx, buscan erradicar la Violencia Obstétrica en México, una violencia invisibilizada que debe ser visibilizada, legislada y erradicada. Amaya, (@amaya.doula) con su vocación como Doula, explica el significado de ser una mujer al servicio de otras mujeres y sus familias en el contexto del nacimiento.

We are back looking at Buddhism in the archipelago, this time in the reign of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu. For references and more, check out our blog page at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-88   Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 88: Let's Give This Buddhism Thing Another Try. This episode we are going to return to the story of Buddhism in the archipelago—specifically what was going on into the next reign.  And what a fortuitous episode to do it on as well.  For those who aren't aware, “8” is an auspicious number in Buddhism, so I figure for episode 88, this makes for a decent topic. Now back in Episode 86, we saw the death of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou, in 576 CE, just as a delegation of envoys arrived from Goguryeo.  As we noted at the time, Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennou, succeeded him to the throne.  You may recall that Nunakura was the second son of Ame Kunioshi and his Queen, Ishihime.  His older brother, Yata no Tamakatsu no Ohoye appears to have been the Crown Prince, but then he passed away, and so Nunakura was raised up in his stead. In many ways, Nunakura represents the Old Guard at this time.  The Chronicles make it clear that he is a classical heir, descended through multiple royal lineages.  His father, Ame Kunioshi, was of course the latest in the lineage descending from Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, while his mother, Ishihime, was the daughter of Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennou, Ame Kunioshi's brother by another mother—quite literally.   In fact, one wonders if the reason for Magari no Ohine and Takewo, aka Ankan and Senka Tennou, even being mentioned as sovereigns in the Chronicles may have been because of the way that they therefore legitimized Nunakura's own reign, as some scholars have suggested that they really may not have ruled at all, and that really it was all Ame Kunioshi during that entire period that their reigns covered.  After all, most of the sovereigns up to this point have been descended through multiple royal lineages, and even Magari no Ohine and Takewo's reigns were depicted as though they were simply regents, holding the seat for their younger and more legitimate brother. Nunakura held fast to the old traditions in another way, too: We are pointedly told in the Nihon Shoki that, though he was of good character, he was not a Buddhist.  This is perhaps a curious statement to make—after all, none of the previous sovereigns have really been Buddhist, either—but then this is the first sovereign to take the throne since the archipelago had been exposed to Buddhist teachings, at least according to the narrative. From our perspective today, that doesn't seem all that strange.  Buddhism had just come to the archipelago and, honestly, it hadn't made that much of a splash from what we can tell.  Back in Episode 85, Soga no Iname had set up a temple and started worshipping an image that had come from the continent, but that initial attempt was sabotaged by others, including Mononobe no Okoshi.  The old families were, of course, rather invested in the system of rituals around their local kami and the socio-political power they derived from being in charge of those same rituals. Soga no Iname had passed away towards the end of the previous reign, and his son, Umako, took up the mantle as head of the Soga family, and his father's position as Oho-omi.  Meanwhile, Mononobe no Okoshi had also passed away, and it seems that at the head of the Mononobe family as a man by the name of Yuge no Moriya, who was confirmed in his position as Ohomuraji by the new sovereign—or at least that is what the Nihon Shoki tells us, and it may be because of his prominence in the story to come.  The Sendai Kuji Hongi claims that it was Moriya's brother, Ohoichi no  Mikari, who was made Ohomuraji, but there is little else.  Regardless of whether it was Moriya or Mikari, the power dynamics between the Soga and Mononobe families were still in a similar to the previous reign, just in new hands. Now, for all that the Chronicles stress how much Nunakura was not a Buddhist, neither was he particularly nativist.  He enjoyed the Classics that were being imported from the mainland, and presumably was able to read in the continental fashion.  He was also interested in ensuring good relations with the Korean peninsula—with both Yamato's traditional ally of Baekje, but also with the growing kingdom of Silla.  Still, Buddhism was off the table for him. For the most part his reign started similar to any other.  After coming to the throne, in 572, he confirmed his wife as Queen, with his mother being hailed as the Queen Mother.  He also set up his own palace site at Ohowi in Kudara, in the land of Kawachi.  Interestingly this appears to place him outside of the Nara basin—certainly outside of the lands of the Soga.  However, the area that he settled in, Kudara, is interesting because that is the same reading given to the characters for “Baekje”.  In fact the kanji, or Sinitic characters, that they use are the same as “Baekje”, and if you didn't know otherwise you would likely read them as something like “Byakuzai”.  However, just as many characters for the Han and Tang dynasties are read as “Kara”, likely referencing the fact that things came to the archipelago through the Kara states, the name for Baekje was rendered as “Kudara”. And to be honest, I've never seen a good reason why the characters came to be read this way, or even whether or not that was the reading when the Chronicles were compiled.  Certainly it was the authoritative reading later on, and there are plenty of placenames that use that reading as “Kudara”.  Still, I'm not absolutely certain when that reading became common, but that is how these kanji are often pronounced, today, for whatever reason. Now just because Nunakura wasn't a Buddhist didn't mean that Buddhism wasn't still making inroads into the islands.  And while the Soga family would stand at the forefront of Buddhist proselytization, our first actor is actually a little different, and largely forgotten, from what I can tell.  His name was Ohowake no Miko, or the royal prince Ohowake. This name doesn't do a lot to help us identify him.  He's a royal prince, meaning he had a direct claim to the royal lineage, born to one of the sovereigns or their progeny.  “Oho” means “Big”, or “Elder”, and “Wake”, well, that's a bit more complicated.  Based on the way it is used in older names it would appear to be a title or honorific of some kind.  Traditional Japanese etymology claims that it comes from the fact that “Wake” comes from “Wakeru”, to break, cut off, or separate.  So basically they come from a line that has been “cut off” from the royal lineage, but they still have royal blood.  This seems a little suspect to me, personally.  I do wonder if it could be related to the term “Waka”, which also shows up a lot in names, but that is a stretch.  Instead, I think it may be an old title, or kabane, for a person of not insignificant rank.  Still, it isn't clear what is meant, and even then, this is a pretty generic name that doesn't tell us much about who this guy actually was.  One theory is that this is another name for someone mentioned elsewhere in the Chronicles, perhaps even one on the later sovereigns.  People at the time that the Chronicles were written knew who it referred to, but it is much harder to piece together, today.  Another suggestion is that this “Ohowake” was someone who was otherwise written out of the history for some reason—all except for here.  Of course, why they were written out one could only fathom a guess.  Finally, there is the thought that the name could be misspelled.  Back in the time of hand copying, over thousands of copies it would be easy to slip up once or twice in the thousands of characters they had written, already.  Later scribes then faithfully copied the mistake, and suddenly a new name is born.  Even then, though, I'm not sure we could make a good guess as to who this really was. What we do know is that in 577, this royal prince known only as “Ohowake” in the Chronicles went to Baekje, presumably as an ambassador for Yamato, and returned with religious books and six individuals, including monks, a nun, an architect, and a Buddhist image maker.   It is significant, that what this royal prince brought back was more than just books this time.  Now, there were artisans being imported who could actually make Buddhist statues and temples here in the islands.  They would have known how those temples were built, the significance of the layout, how the wooden beams were carved, and even how the distinctive rooftiles were made.  And this wasn't just different craft techniques - there were rules for how a temple was supposed to be constructed, the different buildings, even the relics to be buried underneath a building to help make it sacred.  Likewise the images also followed particular rules.  Whether it was the image of the Buddha, or of one of the many accompanying deities, it wasn't enough to be a stone carver or a woodworker—Buddhist imagery was its own thing.  All of this was very different from other artforms and architecture in the archipelago at the time.  It is also telling that Ohowake brought back monks and a nun.  Specifically they had brought monks who specialized in various practices, including meditation and mantra recitation.  You may recall that earlier the people of the archipelago had received images and texts, and it seems that Soga no Iname was trying to piece together what to do based on the texts—likely interpreting all of it through the eyes of the local religious practices of the time.  An ordained monk and an ordained nun, however, would have known the proper rituals and how they were to be conducted.  But almost more importantly, you needed Buddhist monks and nuns to make other Buddhist monks and nuns —although technically you typically need more than that, you should have a Sangha, a Buddhist community.  While traditions vary, it would seem that you need at least four monks to make a Sangha, and some traditions require at least ten —and I presume the same or more for women.   Whether or not they could authoritatively conduct all of the rites, the monk and the nun could, one assumes, teach how they were supposed to be done.   These newcomers appear to have been ensconced at a place called Ohowake-ji, or Ohowake temple, in Naniwa.  Some suggest that this may be in error and that “Ohowake” was a typo for “Ohogori”, an official residence for envoys traveling to and from Japan.  If this latter is true, then much like Soga no Iname had turned his house into a temple, these Buddhist teachers may have been staying at the Ohogoori-ji, and there was a scribal error of “Wake” for “Goori”.  This theory also notes that the word “Ji”, or “Tera” in the kun'yomi reading, originally meant an official government building, but gradually shifted to referring to Buddhist temples as Buddhism made its way across the desert, through Yellow River and Yangzi river valleys. By the time it made it to the Korean peninsula and across the strait to the Japanese archipelago, Buddhist temples were all using the suffix “-Ji”.  The problem with this theory is that we don't really see the character “ji” or “tera” used in the government building sense in other instances from this time, and so it seems a bit of a stretch to suggest that is what is going on here.  Personally, I envision that they did stand up a temple, though the actual location and design—let alone the artifacts within—have been lost to time.  Ohowake's import of Buddhist expertise wasn't it for Buddhism during Nunakura's reign, however, as things continued to trickle in.  In 579, for example, Silla envoys brought a Buddhist image, indicating that they, too, had taken an interest in this foreign religion, and they were using it as part of their diplomacy.  This may have been a further reason to pressure Yamato to at least look into the religion and join the larger world of Buddhist countries, but it doesn't seem to have swayed the sovereign—at least not in any obvious way. Five years after the gift from Silla, in 584, Soga no Iname's son and heir, Soga no Umako, decided to give this interesting new religion another go.  The atmosphere by this point was a little different: still not entirely hospitable, but there had clearly been more and more interest in Buddhism since its first arrival fifty years before.  In addition to the growing acceptance of this foreign religion, however, there were some key political aspects as well that may point to why Soga no Umako decided to act. You see, Nunakura, at the start of his reign, had been married to a woman named Hirohime, who was the daughter of Okinaga no Mate no Miko.  The Okinaga family doesn't get quite as much press as others, but seems to have been relatively powerful; and let's not forget that there was a sovereign, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou.  They had not only supplied Hirohime as a daughter to the current sovereign, but their name is found in the lists of people who had produced wives of the sovereign going back for several generations.  Hirohime was the queen, and no doubt one of her progeny was expected to eventually come to the throne and rule as sovereign.  However, in 576, just five years into Nunakura's reign, Hirohime passed away.  This tragic event nonetheless left a bit of a political void in the form of the Queen, whose offspring would no doubt possess some serious political chops, whether or not they actually ruled.  Fortunately for the Soga, they had an answer: Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, the daughter of Amekunioshi and Kitashi Hime, which made her half-sister to Nunakura, but more than that, it made her the niece of none other than Soga no Umako, since her mother was also a child of Soga no Iname.  And without spoiling too much, put a pin in her name—we will definitely be coming back to her in later episodes.   It is unclear whether Kashikiya Hime was already one of Nunakura's  consorts or if she was instead promoted directly to queen, based on the way the Chronicle talks about it, but Queen she did become.  We are told that she was taken up at the “urging of the court”, and probably by certain prominent figures therein, and so the Soga's plan to marry their daughters into the royal lineage and thus use blood ties to more closely bind themselves to the central authority appears to have been working. This also meant that as Umako tried once again to get Buddhism off the ground, he now had a supposedly friendly figure in the royal bedchamber, who could help whisper in the sovereign's ear.  So he had, presumably, a little more clout than his father had when he had tried to set up a temple. To start things off, Soga no Umako had heard about two Buddha images in the archipelago, and he went about acquiring them.  The first was a stone image of Miroku, aka Maitreya, the future Buddha who was said to come in another four to nine thousand years to remind people of the Dharma once again.  This had been brought from Baekje by an immigrant known to us as Kafuka no Omi.  The other was an image of the Buddha, presumably Gautama, the historical Buddha, in the possession of one Saheki no Muraji. With these images in his possession, Soga no Umako went looking for someone with previous knowledge of Buddhist practices to assist.  To do this he enlisted the help of Kurabe no Sukuri no Shiba Tattou, along with others.  Tattou is traditionally thought to have come from the continent, possibly as early as 522 CE, about 63 years earlier.  The Fuso Ryakki, compiled in the eleventh century, claims he came from the “Great Tang”, even though that dynasty had yet to have been established, and that he had immigrated to the country of Yamato, where he built a grass hut and installed an image of the Buddha.  While this is likely a bit of exaggeration on the part of the ancient chroniclers, to make Tattou seem like the perfect Buddhist resource, it is likely that Tattou did come from the continent or was a descendant in the first or second generation, and that he had some knowledge about the religion.  This made him perfect for Soga no Umako, who needed someone who knew what to look for in others who might be able to assist him in once again setting up a temple of his own. Sure enough, Tattou found someone: a former monk from Goguryeo, named Ebin in Japan, now living in Harima, who had gone back to being a layperson.  This is not as unusual as it may seem, as there are many reasons that someone might leave the monkhood, and even later return back to it.  Whether or not he was currently an ordained and practicing monk, Ebin would have known the rites and how to proceed. Here I would note that it seems a bit odd that Umako would have searched high and low throughout the immigrant community if the temple of Ohowake was still there in Naniwa.  Why didn't they just ask someone from that temple to come and get things kickstarted for them?  Unfortunately, we don't know, though it is possible that the temple of Ohowake had already failed for some reason. And so the former monk, Ebin, was brought on board Umako's little project, and there are some sources that suggest there was a nun as well, known as Houmei, but I didn't notice her name in the Nihon Shoki.  Ebin—and possibly Houmei—were first told to instruct none other than Tattou's own daughter, Shima, or possibly Shimane, to become a Buddhist nun.  This may have been at least in part because Tattou's family clearly already had some familiarity with Buddhism, and there may have also been some linguistic advantages depending on the languages they knew and spoke—especially as much of what had come over was probably written in Sinic characters. Shima was given the Buddhist name of Zenshin, or more appropriately Zenshin-ni.  This was another common practice, at least in East Asia, where new initiates would take a Buddhist—or more appropriately a Dharma—name when they were ordained.  We'll see this a lot, and you have no doubt encountered such names elsewhere.  They are typically made up of two kanji, or Sinitic characters, and pronounced with the On'yomi reading.  The name is often given by a teacher and emphasizes some Buddhist virtue or teaching that is considered particularly apt.  In this case “Zenshin” would appear to mean something like “Auspicious Belief”. Two other women were taken on as students—or possibly as servants, or just junior nuns—along with Zenshin.  They were Toyome, daughter of Ayabito no Hoshi, who became Zenzou, which would seem to indicate “Meditative Storehouse”; and Ishime, daughter of Nishigori no Tsubo, who became Ezen, or something like “Blessed Fortune”. With three nuns, Soga no Umako built a Buddhist Temple onto the east side of his home where he enshrined the stone image of Miroku, or Maitreya, the future Buddha, and he had the three newly minted nuns worship there while Shiba Tattou and Hida no Atahe provided them support and sustenance. Although they were ordained and worshipping a Buddhist image, it is interesting that Umako chose women to become nuns, rather than monks.  There is some thought that, for all of the Buddhist instruction, Umako was still following a popular indigenous model of worship, where the three women were essentially acting in place of female shamans, a tradition that would appear to have been common on the archipelago all the way back to Queen Himiko, and hinted at in various places within the Chronicles, including the very stories of the kami themselves.  One also questions just how much the women knew regarding Buddhist practice, despite having a teacher who was formerly a monk.  There are some suggestions that the women themselves were rather young, with one note claiming that Zenshin was only twelve years old when she was ordained—hardly an age where one expects her to be leading, let alone teaching, about a foreign religion from another country. Furthermore, the terms used surrounding the nuns' “worship” also leads one to wonder.  The word used is “sai” or “matsuri”, which is sometimes translated as “maigre faire”, or abstinence, but here likely refers to some kind of meal or feast.  This was possibly a Buddhist vegetarian feast, though the idea of a feast as worship seems to dovetail nicely once again into the local practices surrounding kami worship as well. From this first meal, Tattou supposedly found a “relic”, by which would seem to be meant a relic of the Buddha.  Now what a relic of the Buddha was doing in the Japanese islands, so far away from the Indian subcontinent, might seem to be a pertinent question, but that is where you would be wrong.  You see, according to some traditions, the body of the Buddha had transformed through miraculous processes into hard crystal or glass stones, which themselves had made their way across the world.  This was fortunate for Buddhists, who therefore didn't need to send away for fresh relics from India every time they needed to found a new temple, they just had to find appropriate relics where they were. To test the relics—we aren't given much more of a description of what they were—Soga no Umako took a giant iron maul and brought that hammer down on the relic Tattou had found.  However, rather than the relic shattering, the iron maul broke, instead, along with the block of iron they had put underneath of it.  After testing its strength, the relic was placed in water, where it would float or sink depending on what was desired.  These supposedly proved that the relic was holy, and so it was used to inaugurate a new pagoda.  The pagoda was built on top of the Hill of Ohono, or large field, and we are told that they had the nuns conduct another ritual feast prior to placing the relic in the top of the pagoda, recalling the purpose of the pagoda as the replacement for the stupa, the repository for relics of the Buddha at a temple complex. In the background of all of this, Yamato was apparently experiencing their own epidemic.  We are told that pestilence was in the land, and Soga no Umako himself became ill.  Trying to ascertain the cause of his own illness, Umako enlisted a diviner, who told him that the pestilence was a curse sent by the Buddha worshipped by Soga no Umako's father, Soga no Iname.  Once again we see the Buddha being treated more like a kami.  After all, why would the one who came to save all sentient beings curse someone?  And yet they did seem to believe that this curse was due to the way that the previous temple that Iname had set up had been torn down and the image tossed, unceremoniously, into the Yodo river. And since the cause of the pestilence had been determined by a diviner, apparently that was enough to get Nunakura on board.  Whether or not he personally worshipped the Buddha, he allowed Umako to worship the image so that he could appease his father's gods and hopefully recover. Shortly thereafter—less than a week later, if the dates are to be believed—we start to really get a sense of déjà vu, as Mononobe no Yugehi no Moriya, son of Mononobe no Okoshi and the current Ohomuraji of the Mononobe family, remonstrated Nunakura over this whole Buddhism thing.  Just as Okoshi had done decades previously, Moriya claimed that the whole reason that there was an epidemic in the first place was because they had once again welcomed Buddhism into the land, and that they needed to put a stop to it.  Nunakura was swayed by his arguments, and he took back what he had said and issued an edict that demanded that the worship of Buddhism cease. Here we see, once again, the destruction of the Buddhist temple, but this time around we are given much greater detail.  For one thing, Moirya seems to have taken rather a lot of pride in this.  He went to the temple with his men, sat down in a chair, and from there he oversaw the destruction of the pagoda, the temple, and even the stone image.  Whatever couldn't be destroyed was taken to the Naniwa canal and thrown into the waters. As he did all of this, the Chroniclers record that there was wind and rain, but no clouds, not quite unlike the idea of a fox's wedding—an interesting phenomenon where you can have the sun, usually in the morning or late afternoon, shining at the same time that rainclouds overhead are opening up the heavens are pouring down. Moriya simply donned a raincoat, and then he upbraided Soga no Umako and all of his followers, trying to shame them.  He then had Sukune call forward the various nuns, who were stripped of their “three garments”, a term for the traditional Buddhist robes, although in East Asia this was eventually replaced with the single kesa over several lower garments, to help fend off the cold.  Here it is unclear if just a kesa is meant, or if they were dressed in an attempt at clothing from the Indian continent.  The nuns were then imprisoned and flogged at the roadside station of Tsubaki no Ichi, otherwise known as the Tsubaki Market. Despite thus cleansing the land of Buddhist influence for the second time, the pestilence didn't stop, and people continued to grow ill and die.  In fact, there was an embassy planned to talk about the Nimna situation once again, but both the sovereign, Nunakura, as well as Mononobe no Moriya himself, became ill and were afflicted with sores.  Once again, the land was plagued and people were dying.  According to the Chroniclers, who were, of course, writing after the fact in a well-established Buddhist state, the people started to privately complain that clearly Buddhism hadn't been the problem.  In fact, perhaps Soga no Umako's diviner had been correct all along and the plague was actually because they *hadn't* accepted Buddhism, rather than a punishment for neglecting the local kami. A few months later, Soga no Umako sent another message to the sovereign.  He was still ill, and hadn't recovered, even with Moriya “purging” the influences of Buddhism.  Umako claimed that the only things that would cure him were the Three Precious Things, which is to say the Sanzou, or the Three Treasures of Buddhism:  The Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha.  Based on the severity of the disease, Nunakura authorized him to worship privately, and the nuns were allowed to assist him.  He rebuilt the temple and he provided for the nuns, himself.  Eventually, Umako recovered, but unfortunately, the sovereign did not.  Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, died in 585, laid low by the plague that had swept through the land. At the funeral, the politics were on full display.  Soga no Umako had no love lost for Mononobe no Moriya, nor vice versa.  As Umako was delivering a speech, Moriya made a comment that with his extremely long sword at his side, Umako looked like a fat little sparrow that had been pierced through by a hunting shaft.  Meanwhile, Umako noted that Moriya was shaking as he gave his speech—whether from emotion, nerves, or something else we don't know—and so Umako suggested hanging bells on him, so that they would jingle as he shook.  From this rap battle on out, the feud between the Mononobe and the Soga would only grow. There is another account of all of this, buried amongst everything else, that claims that Mononobe no Moriya, Ohomiwa no Sakahe no Kimi, and Nakatomi no Iware no Muraji all conspired together to destroy the Buddhist religion.  They wanted to burn the temple and pagoda that Soga no Umako had built, but Umako opposed the project and would not allow it, or so we are told.  Here it is unclear if we are talking about the previous temple or the rebuilt one, but the names here are interesting.  Of course we know that the Soga and the Mononobe were going at it, and the inclusion of Nakatomi no Iware simply picks up the previous alliance between the Mononobe and Nakatomi, both of whom had been active during the assault on Soga Iname's temple.  Lastly, though, there is Ohomiwa no Sakahe no Kimi, which is interesting.  This figure would appear to be from the Ohomiwa family and region, likely drawing some amount of respect from their connection with Mt. Miwa itself, and the ancient worship that went on there.  So, in this version there really is a triple threat of “the old guard” banding together to resist this newfangled foreign faith. Incidentally, this same figure, Ohomiwa no Sakahe no Kimi, also appears just after the death of Nunakura, when Prince Anahobe figured he could just waltz in and take the throne on the assumption that he was owed it by birth.  He was a half-brother to Nunakura, son of Ame Kunioshi and his mother, Wonanegimi, who was another daughter of Soga no Iname.  Anahobe was therefore nephew to Umako, and perhaps that is one of the reasons he thought he could just waltz in and take his seat at the head of government.  But Prince Anahobe was foiled by none other than Ohomiwa no Sakahe, who posted a guard around the palace and made sure that nobody defiled it until a new sovereign had been identified by the court.  Anahobe voiced his complaint that Ohomiwa was protecting the court of a “dead king”, and that they should instead come to the court of a “living king”—presumably he meant his own. But that will take us past this point, and there are still some other details of Nunakura or Bidatsu's reign I want to touch on, such as his dealings on the continent, but here we can see how Buddhism and the feud between the Soga and the Mononobe was in full swing, and that will definitely play a large part in future episodes.  In addition, we'll see how this time, Umako wouldn't take things lying down.  He was going to get this Buddhism thing to stick one way or the other, and we'll see what happens when he finally founds the first permanent temple in Japan; a temple that, while perhaps not as grand as it once was, continues to operate into the modern day. Until then, thank you for listening and 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.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

In this episode, Maki and Simone catch up with good friend and TWTT faithful, Mr. David Cheek. Those who frequent the TWTT Project Zoom sessions will know Dave for his enthusiasm, his 3 part questions and his dedication to keeping the Nijikai going after each session, but most importantly, for his undeniable love of sake. There is no denying that sake has played a huge role in Dave's life for a long, long time - it was even how he met his wife, Miwa, who was managing True Sake in San Fransisco at that time. Dave was born in the USA, in Tacoma, Washington. He then moved to Washington DC, then on to San Fransisco and now lives in Japan, in Hachioji, Tokyo. Dave spent a couple of years working alongside Brian Hutto at Brian's sake bar in Yokohama, and later, opened Dozo Sake Bar with his wife, Miwa, in Hachioji. Sadly, despite its success, Dozo Sake had to close their doors... and not long after that, the pandemic hit. When they were able to do so, they started doing Dozo Pop-up at Chef's, the restaurant where Miwa works as a cook, in Shinjuku. More recently, Dave has started hosting a series of sake tasting workshops that look strongly sake vocabulary, moving away from lexicons and generic descriptions and making it personal - because it IS personal. He encourages those who attend his workshops to allow themselves to go on a journey with the sake, to have a conversation with the sake... so, we decided to have a conversation with Dave about the language of Nihonshu: 'Nihonshu-go'. More information about Taste with the Toji - The Project can be found on our website: https://tastewiththetoji.com/ You can subscribe to this Podcast at Patreon Music by: Kazuyoshi Sato (Koikawa Shuzo) Show notes: What Dave was drinking: Wataribune Junmai Ginjo 55 from Huchu Homare, Ibaraki Prefecture Junmai Ginjo Muroka Wataribune rice polished to 55% Yeast #9 ABV: 15.5% What Maki was drinking: Chikurin Hoshioboro from Marumoto Shuzo in Okayama Prefecture Junmai Ginjo Muroka Nama Polishing ratio: 60% ABV: 17% What Simone was drinking: Ruri Karakusa from Shintani Shuzo in Yamaguchi Prefecture Junmai Ginjo Muroka Nama Genshu Polishing ratio: 60% ABV: 16%

７期生のドアがOPEN! こちらから説明会にて先行エントリー開始です ７期生のゴールデンジャーニースタートは5月15日です❤️ Take Back Your Power したいガールズ集まれ〜

This episode we talk about the first recorded instance of Buddhism--or at least the worship of the Buddha--in Japan, and we look at some of the politics and issues surrounding its adoption, as well as some of the problems in the story we have from the Chronicles.  We also look at what legend says happened to the oldest Buddhist image and where you can find it, today.  Hint: It is in a place that once hosted the Winter Olympics! For more check out our podcast website:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-85 Rough Transcript:   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 85: The Buddha Comes to Japan. Last couple episodes we've talked about Buddhism.  We talked about its origins in the Indian subcontinent, with the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, aka Shakyamuni, the historical Buddha, and how those teachings spread out from India to Gandhara, and then followed the trade routes across the harsh deserts of the Tarim Basin, through the Gansu corridor, and into the Yellow and Yangzi River Valleys.  From there the teachings made it all the way to the Korean peninsula, and to the country of Baekje, Yamato's chief ally on the peninsula. This episode we'll look at how Buddhism came to the archipelago and its initial reception there.  For some of this we may need to span several reigns, as we'll be looking at events from early to late 6th century.  This is also about more than just religion, and so we may need to dive back into some of the politics we've covered up to this point as well.  Hopefully we can bring it all together in the end, but if it is a bit of a bumpy ride, just hang with me for a bit. So let's start with the official account in the Nihon Shoki, which we already mentioned two episodes ago: the first mention of Buddhism in the Chronicles.  The year was 552, or the 13th year in the reign of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou.  That winter, during the 10th month—which was probably closer to December or January on a modern calendar—King Seongmyeong of Baekje had a special gift for his counterpart, the sovereign of Yamato.  By this time there are numerous accounts of gifts to Yamato, generally in conjunction with the Baekje-Yamato alliance and Baekje's requests for military support in their endeavors on the peninsula, generally framed in the Yamato sources as centering on the situation of the country of Nimna. In this case, the gift was a gilt-bronze image of Shakyamuni Buddha, several flags and umbrellas, and a number of volumes of Buddhist sutras.  King Seongmyeong sent a memorial explaining his intent:  “This doctrine” (aka Buddhism) “is amongst all doctrines the most excellent.  But it is hard to explain, and hard to comprehend.  Even the Duke of Zhou and Confucius had not attained to a knowledge of it.  This doctrine can create religious merit and retribution with appreciation of the highest wisdom.  Imagine a man in possession of treasures to his heart's content, so that he might satisfy all his wishes in proportion as he used them.  Thus it is with the treasure of this wonderful doctrine.  Every prayer is fulfilled and naught is wanting.  Moreover, from distant India it has extended hither to the three Han, where there are none who do not receive it with reverence as it is preached to them. “Thy servant, therefore, Myeong, King of Baekje, has humbly dispatched his retainer, Nuri Sacchi, to transmit it to the Imperial Country, and to diffuse it abroad throughout the home provinces, so as to fulfil the recorded saying of Buddha: ‘My law shall spread to the East.' “ Upon receiving all of these things and hearing the memorial, we are told that the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, literally leapt for joy.  He thanked the envoys, but then put the question to his ministers as to how they should proceed.  Soga no Iname no Sukune, holding the position of Oho-omi, recommended that they should worship the statue of the Buddha.  After all, if all of the “Western Frontier lands” were worshipping it, then should Yamato really be left out? On the other side of the argument were Mononobe no Okoshi as well as Nakatomi no Kamako.  They argued against stopping the traditional worship of the 180 kami of Heaven and Earth and replacing it with worship of some foreign religion. With this split decision, Ame Kunioshi decided to have Soga no Iname experiment, first.  He told him to go ahead and worship the image and see what happens. And so Soga set it up at his house in Oharida, purified it, and, per Buddhist tradition, retired from the world.  He had another house, in nearby Mukuhara, purified and made into a temple.  Here he began to worship the Buddha. Around that same time, there was a pestilence—a disease—that was in the land.  People were getting sick and some were dying.  This was likely not unprecedented.  Healthcare was not exactly up to our modern standards, and while many good things traveled the trade routes, infection and disease likely used them as pathways as well.  So diseases would pop up, on occasion.  In this instance, though, Mononobe no Okoshi and Nakatomi no Kamako seized on it as their opportunity.  They went to Ame Kunioshi and they blamed Soga no Iname and his worship of the Buddha for the plague. Accordingly, the court removed the statue of the Buddha and tossed it into the canal at Naniwa, and then they burned down Soga no Iname's temple—which, as you may recall, was basically his house.  As soon as they did that, though, Ame Kunioshi's own Great Hall burst into flames, seemingly out of nowhere, as it was otherwise a clear day. Little more is said about these events, but that summer there were reports from Kawachi of Buddhist chants booming out of the sea of Chinu near the area of Idzumi.  Unate no Atahe was sent to investigate and found an entire log of camphorwood that was quote-unquote “Shining Brightly”.  So he gave it to the court, where we are told they used it to have two Buddha images made, which later were installed in a temple in Yoshino; presumably at a much later date. And then the Chronicles go quiet for the next couple decades, at least on the subject of Buddhism, but this is the first official account of it coming over, and there is quite a bit to unpack.  For one thing, the memorials and speeches once again seem like something that the Chroniclers added because it fit with their understanding of the narrative, including their insistence that Yamato was a fully fledged imperial state, and there is some fairly good evidence that King Seongmyeong's memorial is clearly anachronistic.  But there are a few other things, and conflicting records on things such as dates and similar. So first off, let's acknowledge that there are too many things in the main narrative in the Chronicles that are just questionable, such as the sovereign “leaping with joy” at the chance to hear about Buddhism, and the fact that King Seongmyeong's memorial apparently quotes a part of the sutra of the Sovereign Kings of Golden Light, known in Japanese as the Konkoumyou-saishou-ou-kyou, but that translation wasn't done until 703, during the Tang dynasty, by the monk Yijing in the city of Chang'an.  While it would have been known to knowledgable monks like Doji, who may have been helping put the narrative together in 720, it is unlikely that it was in use during the 6th century, when the memorial is said to have been written. In addition, there is question about the date that all of this supposedly happened.  The Nihon Shoki has this event taking place in 552, well into the reign of Ame Kunioshi.  However, there are at least two 8th century sources, roughly contemporary with the writing of the Nihon Shoki, the Gangoji Garan Engi and the Jouguuki, and both of these put the date at 538, a good fourteen years earlier, and in the era of Ame Kunioshi's predecessor, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi, aka Senka Tenno.  The first of these, the Gangoji Garan Engi, is a record of the founding of the first permanent temple in Japan, Gangoji, aka Hokoji or, informally, Asukadera, which was founded by Soga no Iname's heir, Soga no Umako.  More on the temple itself, later, but for now we want to focus on the historical aspects of this account, which mostly corroborate the story, talking about Soga no Iname's role in receiving the image and enshrining it, as well as the early conflict between the Soga clan and their rivals.  The other source, the Joguki, focuses on the life of Shotoku Taishi, aka Prince Umayado, who will become a major subject of our narrative at the end of the 6th and early 7th centuries.  Not only is he considered the father of Japanese Buddhism, but he had strong connections to the Soga family.  Today, most scholars accept the 538 date over the 552 date when talking about Buddhism's initial arrival into the islands   If the Chroniclers did move the event from 538 to 552, one has to wonder why.  This isn't a simple matter of being off by 60 years, and thus attributable to a mistake in the calendrical sexagenary zodiac cycle of stems and branches, so there must have been something else.  One suggestion is that the date conflicted with the chronology that had already been set for the sovereigns.  538 is during the reign of Takewo no Ohokimi, aka Senka Tenno, but what if succession was not quite as cut and dried as all that?  What if Ame Kunioshi no Ohokimi had his own court and was in some way ruling at the same time as his half-brothers, Magari no Ohine and Takewo no Ohokimi? They were from different mothers, and thus different factions at court.  Ame Kunioshi was young, so it was possible that there were rival lineages attempting to rule, or even some kind of co-ruler deal hearkening back to more ancient precedent.  Some even theorize that Magari no Ohine and Takewo Hiro Kunioshi were simply fictional inserts to help span the period between Wohodo and Ame Kunioshi. Whatever the reason, this theory suggests that it would not have happened in the 13th year of Ame Kunioshi's reign, but that his reign started in 526, rather than 540.  An intriguing hypothesis, but one that begs the question of whether everything in the reign would then need to be shifted to account for that.  Given that there are a few attributable events noted that fit with outside sources as well, that doesn't seem quite as plausible without some very conscious efforts to change the timeline. Another thought is that the compilers weren't sure exactly when this event happened, but given Ame Kunioshi's reputation and long reign, they chose his reign to place it in because it just fit.  I suspect that this happened more than once, with people more likely attributing past events to well-remembered sovereigns.  If this is the case, then when searching for a date they may have just chosen one that seemed auspicious.  In this case, 552 CE was, in some reckonings, an important year in Buddhist history, as there were those who say it as the beginning of the age of “mappou”, the “End of the Law” or perhaps the “Latter days of the Law”. This definitely is an intriguing theory, and resonates strongly.  For most of Japanese history, the idea that we are in this period of “mappo” has had a strong influence, and to a certain extent it is kind of an apocalyptic view of things.  The idea of mappo is that while the Buddha was alive, his teachings were fresh and available to all living things.  However, after his death, his teachings had to be remembered and passed on.  Even with the advent of writing, the meaning and understanding of his teachings, and thus an understanding of dharma, would also atrophy.  Different translations, changes in meaning, and just bits and pieces lost to time would mean that for the first 500 to 1,000 years, the Buddha's disciples would keep things well and the meaning would be protected, but in the next 500 to 1,000 years things would decline, but still be pretty close to the truth.  Then – and this is when the period of “mappo” starts - things would really start to decline, until finally, about 5,000 to 10,000 years later—or about 1,000 to 12,000 years after the time of the historical Buddha—things would break down, factions would be fighting one another, and eventually everyone would have forgotten the dharma entirely.  It was only then that there would come a new Buddha, Miroku or Maitreya, who would once again teach about the dharma and how to escape suffering, and the whole cycle would start again. The year 552 would have coincided, according to some estimates, with 1,000 years since the time of Siddhartha Gautama, and so it would have had particular significance to the people of that time, particularly if you counted each of the first two Ages as 500 years each, meaning that the word of the Buddha, that his teachings would spread to the East, would have been completed just as we entered the latter days of the Law. Regardless of the time—and, as I said earlier, 538 is the more accepted date—the general events described – the statue, the offer of Soga to experiment, and the resulting events - are usually agreed to, although even here we must pause, slightly and ask a few questions. First off, was this truly the first time that Buddhism had ever shown up in Japan?  The answer to that is probably not.  There had been many waves of immigrants that had come over to Japan from the peninsula, and even if only a small handful of them had adopted the new religion before coming over it is likely that there were pockets of worshippers.  Later, we will see that there are people in Japan who are said to have had prior experience as a monk, or who had their own Buddhist images.  These images were probably used by people in their homes—there is no evidence of any particular temples that had been built, privately or otherwise, and so there is no evidence that we have any active monks or nuns in the archipelago, but who knows what was going on in communities outside of the elite core?  There were plenty of things that were never commented on if it wasn't directly relevant to the court. Furthermore, with all of the envoys that had been to Baekje, surely some of them had experience with Buddhism.  And then there were the envoys *from* Baekje, who no doubt brought Buddhist practices with them.  So there was likely some kind of familiarity with the religion's existence, even if it wasn't necessarily fully understood. The second point that many people bring up is the role of the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, or whomever was in charge at the time that the first image came over.  While the Nihon Shoki attempts to portray a strong central government with the sovereign at its head, we've already seen how different households had arisen and taken some measure of power for themselves.  At the end of the 5th and into the early 6th century, the Ohotomo and Mononobe houses were preeminent, with Ohotomo Kanamura taking on actions such as negotiating dealings with the continent and even manuevering around the Crown Prince.  The Mononobe wielded considerable authority through their military resources, and now, the Soga appeared to ascendant.  It is quite possible that the idea of the sovereign giving any sort of permission or order to worship Buddhism is simply a political fig leaf added by the Chroniclers.  The Soga may have been much more independent in their views and dealings.  To better understand this, let's take a look at the uji family system and the Soga family in particular. Now the Nihon Shoki paints a picture as though these noble uji families were organic, and simply part of the landscape, descending from the kami in the legendary age, with lineages leading down to the present day, although there is some acknowledgment that the earliest ancestors did not necessarily use the family names until a later date.  For much of Japanese history, the concept that these family, or uji, were one of the core building blocks of ancient Japanese political and cultural spheres is taken as a matter of course.  However, in more modern studies, this view has been questioned, and now the prevailing view is that these families are somewhat different.  In fact, the uji are likely just as much an artificial construct as the corporate -Be family labor groups. According to this theory, early on people were associated with local groups and places.  Outside of the immediate family, groups were likely held together by their regional ties as much as anything else.  Names appear to be locatives, with ancient titles indicating the -hiko or -hime of this or that area. Some time in the 5th century, Yamato—and possibly elsewhere in the peninsula—began to adopt the concept of -Be corporate groups from Baekje.  We talked about this back in Episode 63, using the Hata as a prime example of how these groups were brought together.  More importantly, though, was that each of these -Be groups reported to someone in the court, sometimes with a different surname.  These were the uji, created along with the -Be to help administer the labor and work of running the state.  They were essentially arms of the state itself, in many ways.  The kabane system of titles emphasizes this, with different families having different ranks depending on what they did, whether locally, regionally, or at the central court.  Some of these titles, like -Omi and -Kimi, were likely once actual jobs, but eventually it came to represent something more akin to a social ranking. There have been some questions and emails asking for a bit more in depth on this, and I'd really like to, but I'm afraid that would be too much for now.  At the moment I want to focus more on the uji, particularly on those at the top - the uji with the kabane of either Omi or Muraji, as these are the ones most likely to be helping to directly run the government.  They even had their own geographical areas within the Nara basin, and elsewhere, that were uji strongholds.  The Hata had areas near modern Kyoto, the Mononobe clearly had claims to land around Isonokami, in modern Tenri, and the Soga clan had their holdings in the area of modern Asuka and Kashihara city.  At the very least, that is where Soga no Iname's house was—in Mukuhara and Oharida, both located in the modern area of Asuka, which will become important in the future. It wasn't just the landholdings that were important, though.  Each uji had some part to play in the functioning of the government.  In many cases it was the production or control of a particular service, such as the Hata and silk weaving, or the Mononobe and their affinity with all things military.  For the Soga, they appear to have had a rather interesting portfolio. Traditionally, the Soga family is said to trace its lineage back to Takechi no Sukune, the first Oho-omi back in the time of Okinaga no Tarashi Hime and Homuda Wake no Ohokimi—see episode 46 for more on him.  That lineage is likely fabricated, however, and the earliest actual evidence for the family may be from the Kogoshui, where we are told that Soga no Machi was put in charge of the Three Treasuries.  These were the Imikura, or sacred treasury; the Uchikura, or royal household treasury; and the Ohokura, the government treasury.  This seems like quite the position of responsibility, and it would fit with some of what we see later as the Soga are involved in helping set up Miyake, the various royal storehouses across the land that acted as Yamato court administrative centers for the purposes of collecting goods and funneling them to the court, as well as keeping an eye on the local regions.  Although here I feel I would be remiss if I didn't also note that the “Three Treasuries”, or “Sanzou” is one way to translate the Tripitaka, and given the Soga's role, I don't think I can entirely ignore that point. So the Soga family had experience with administration, and specifically they were dealing with a variety of different goods produced in different regions.  If that is the case, then their authority did not necessarily derive from the standard uji-be constructed familial connections, but rather they were deriving positional authority from the central government itself.  This may seem like common sense to us, but in the world of ancient Yamato, where family connections were everything, this may have been something new and innovative—and very in keeping with various continental models of administration.  It is quite likely that the Soga were dealing with some of the latest innovations in government and political authority, which would also have opened them up to the possibility of new ideas. In addition, their position meant they likely had wide-ranging contacts across the archipelago and even onto the peninsula.  The Soga themselves have connections to the peninsula in the names of some of their members, such as Soga no Karako, where “Karako” can be translated as a “Son of Kara” or a “Son of Gaya”, possibly referring to their origins, and Soga no Kouma, where “Kouma” is a general term for Goguryeo, and so quite possibly indicates a connection with them as well.  On top of that, there is a now-out-of-favor theory that once suggested that Soga no Machi might be the same as Moku Machi, an important Baekje official in the late 5th century.  While that has been largely discredited, the fact that “Machi” is possibly of Baekje origin cannot be entirely overlooked. Then there are a series of notes in the Nihon Shoki, particularly surrounding the area of Shirai, in the land of Kibi.  These start in 553, just one year after Soga no Iname's failed attempt to launch a Buddhist temple, at least according to the Nihon Shoki's record of events.  It is a relatively simple note, but it mentions how Soga no Iname made a man by the name of Wang Jinnie the “Funa no Fubito”, or “Recorder of Ships”, and put him in charge of the shipping tax—all at the behest of the sovereign, of course. Later, in 555, Soga no Iname went with Hozumi no Iwayumi no Omi to Kibi, where they consolidated five districts, or agata, under the administration of a single administrative Miyake in Shirawi.  Later, in 556, he would go back to Kibi and establish a Miyake in Kojima, putting in place Katsuraki no Yamada as the Tazukai, or “rural rice field governor”.  That same year he and others went to the Takachi district in Yamato and established the Miyake of Ohomusa, or “Great Musa”, for immigrants from Baekje and then Womusa, or “Small Musa”, for immigrants from Goguryeo. In 569, the person that Soga no Iname had put in charge of recording the ships, Wang Jinnie, had a nephew, Itsu—or possibly Danchin, depending on how you read it—go out to Shirawi to take a census.  This is the same Shirawi that Soga no Iname had helped establish in 555.  Itsu becomes the Shirawi no Obito, and in 574 we see Soga no Umako, Iname's heir, heading out to Shirawi with an updated register for Itsu. So, in short, the Soga family clearly is doing a lot of government administration, and particularly of the Miyake, which is the extension of the court authority into the rest of the archipelago.  On top of that, look at how often the names that are coming up in conjunction with what they are doing are referencing immigrant groups.  Even the Hozumi family are known at this point for their work on the peninsula, and we see the Soga heavily involved with the Wang family and their fortunes, not to mention Greater and Lesser Musa and the Baekje and Goguryeo individuals there.  Wang Jinnie will have even more of a part to play, but we'll hold onto that for later. Given everything we can see about how they are operating, is it any surprise that the Soga would advocate in favor of Buddhism?  I'd also note that, while other clans have clear connections to heavenly ancestors and kami whom they worshipped, it is unclear to me if the Soga had anything similar.  There is mention in the 7th century of the creation of a shrine to their titular ancestors, Takeuchi no Sukune and Ishikawa no Sukune, and today there is a shrine that is dedicated to Soga tsu Hiko and Soga tsu Hime—Basically just lord and lady Soga.  But there isn't anything like the spirit of Futsunushi or Ohomononushi, let alone an Amaterasu or Susano'o. Why is that important?  Well, prior to the 6th century, a lot of clans claimed authority from the ritual power they were perceived to wield, often related to the prestige of their kami.  One of the ways that Yamato influence had spread was through the extension of the Miwa cult across the archipelago, and there were even members of the Himatsuribe and the Hioki-be, basically groups of ritualists focused on sun worship, which upheld the royal house.  The Mononobe controlled Isonokami shrine, where they worshipped their Ujigami, Futsu-mitama, the spirit of the sound of the sword.  And then there were the Nakatomi, who haven't had much to do in the narrative so far, but we know that they were court ritualists, responsible for ensuring that proper rituals were carried out by the court for the kami to help keep balance in the land. The dispute between the Soga and the Mononobe and Nakatomi is presented as a struggle between a foreign religion and the native kami of Japan—leaving aside any discussion, for now, about just how “native” said kami actually were.  This is, in fact, the primary story that gets told again and again, that the Mononobe and Nakatomi were simply standing up for their beliefs, sincerely believing that if too many people started worshipping foreign gods then it would supplant the worship already present in the islands. And that may have been a genuine fear at the time, but I would suggest that it was only a small one.  What seems more apparent is that we are really looking at just an old fashioned power struggle.  Because what all of the information we have about the Soga distills down to is: they were the new kid on the block.  The Soga were the up and coming nobility.  They had connections with the continent and various immigrant groups.  That gave them access to new ideas and new forms of resources.  The Mononobe were built on a more traditionalist line.  They had been around, ever since at least Wakatake no Ohokimi, playing a significant role in things, alongside the Ohotomo.  The Mononobe were at their apex, claiming descent through their own Heavenly Grandson, and having held sway at court through numerous reigns at this point.   They represent, in many ways, the old guard. Worship of a fancy new religious icon—effectively a new kami—threatened to give the Soga even more power and sway.  They already had control of the three treasuries, if the Kogoshui is to be believed, and likely had a rather impressive administrative apparatus.  Soga no Iname had also ended up successfully marrying off two of his daughters to Ame Kunioshi, making him father-in-law to the current sovereign.  If he added to that a spiritual focus that people came to believe in, that would only enhance the Soga's power and place in the hierarchy. And what better way to taint all of that, and neutralize these upstarts, than to blame this new god for the plague and pestilence that was killing people.  We see it all too often, even today—when people are scared and when there are problems, the easiest people to scapegoat are the foreigners and the outsiders.  Those whom we do not see as “us”.  It was probably easy to turn the court against Buddhism, at least initially.  They threw the image in the canal and burned down the temple, and no doubt they were pleased with themselves. But that was merely the opening salvo, and as we'll see in the coming years, the Soga family were hardly done with Buddhism.  One can argue whether they were truly devout or if this was merely for political gain, but the Soga family tied themselves to this new foreign religion, for good or for ill, and they wouldn't be pushed around forever. When next we touch base on this topic we'll look at Soga no Iname's heir, Soga no Umako, and his attempts to start up where his father left off.  He would again clash with the Mononobe, and the outcome of that conflict would set the path for the next half a century.  It would also see Buddhism become firmly enmeshed with the apparatus of the state.  As this happens , we'll also see the character of Buddhist worship in the archipelago change.  Initially, the Buddha was treated little differently from any other kami, and based on the way it is described, probably worshiped in a very similar manner.  However, as more sutras came to light and as more people studied and learned about the religion—and as more immigrants were brought in to help explain how things were supposed to work—Buddhism grew in the islands to be its own distinct entity.  In fact the growth of Buddhism would even see the eventual definition of “Shinto”, the “Way of the Gods”, a term that was never really needed until there was another concept for native practices to be compared against. Before we leave off, there is one other story I'd like to mention.  It is tangential to our immediate discussion of Buddhism and the Soga, but I think you may find it of interest, nonetheless.  This is the story of just what happened—supposedly—to that first Buddhist icon that was tossed into the Naniwa canal. Because you see, according to tradition, that gilt-bronze icon did not stay stuck in the mud and muck of the canal, nor did it just disappear.  Instead there is a tradition that it was found almost a century later.  The person who retrieved it was named Honda no Yoshimitsu, and from Naniwa he traveled all the way to Shinano, to the area of modern Nagano, and there he would found a temple in 642.  Another reading of his name, Yoshimitsu, is Zenko, and so the temple is named Zenkoji, and you can still go and visit it today.  In fact, the main hall of Zenkoji is considered a national treasure, and it was featured prominently during the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan.  It is a popular attraction for tourist both in Japan and from abroad, and if you get a chance I highly recommend going to see it.  On the street leading up to the temple entrance are many traditional shops that still sell various foods and traditional arts and crafts, and there are many intriguring features.  For example, there is a narrow walkway underneath the main temple that is completely dark, where you are meant to feel along the wall to try to find the key to enlightenment, a kind of physical metaphor of Buddhist teaching. And of course there is the icon that Honda Yoshimitsu is said to have fished out of the canal. According to the temple, the icon still exists, and many worshippers believe it to be the oldest extant Buddhist icon in Japan, even older than the icons at Horyuji.  However, there is one catch—nobody is allowed to see it.  Shortly after it was installed in the temple, the statue was hidden in a special container, or zushi, and it became what is known as a hidden Buddha.  This is a tradition particularly prevalent in Japan, where some Buddhas are hidden away and only brought out on very special occasions.  Some cynics might note that those occasions are often when the temple needs to raise funds.  As for this hidden Buddha, however, it has not been seen more than a handful of times since it was locked away in the 7th century. Despite that, we know what it looks like—or at least what it is supposed to look like.  The image is said to be a triad, and though the Nihon Shoki claims it was an image of Shakyamuni, the central figure of the Zenkoji triad is actually the figure of Amida, aka Amithabha, as in the Pure Land sect of Buddhism.  Amida Nyorai is flanked by two attendants.  We know all of this because a copy of the Zenkoji image was made in the Kamakura period, and that image, said to be a faithful recreation of the original is also kept at Zenkoji.  While the original is kept hidden in the back, the replica, which is thought to have all of the miraculous powers of the original, sits in front, and is therefore called the Maedachi Honzon, basically the image standing in front, vice the original, the Gohonzon, the main image. Except it gets even better, because the replica is *also* kept hidden away most of the time, and only revealed on special occasions, known as Gokaicho, or “opening of the curtain”, which occurs once every seven years. The Zenkoji triad became extremely important in later centuries, and copies were made and installed in sub-temples throughout Japan.  Even today you may find a Zenkoji-style triad here or there, each one considered to have a spiritual tie back to the original, and some of them even have inscriptions confirming that they are, indeed, Zenkoji style triads Of course, the big question remains: does the original image actually still exist, and is there any chance that it actually is as old as it claims to be?  There really is no good way of knowing.  Zenkoji is not offering to open up the zushi any time soon.  We do know a few things, however.  We know that the temple has burned down at least 11 times over the years, and the Gohonzon was rescued each time, or so they say.  There are some who claim that it still exists, but perhaps it is damaged.  If that is the case, how did they make the replica, though? There was an inspection during the Edo period.  There was a rumor that it had been stolen, and so an Edo official was sent to check on the status.  They reported that it was still there, but crucially they never described actually laying eyes on the statue.  In one account where a monk did open the box it is said that their was a blinding light—kind of like the Ark of the Covenant in Indiana Jones but just overwhelming; no faces were melted, at least none that were reported. The monks of Zenkoji, when asked how they know the image is still there, will point to the weight of the container, which, when lifted, is apparently considerable.  They say that is how they know it is still there.  Of course, a melted lump of metal might be the same weight as it was when it was full statue, as long as it didn't lose any actual mass, so it is hard to tell if it is still in good condition. Even with all of that, there is the question about the veracity of the original objects lineage to begin with.  Did Honda Yoshimitsu really just find *the* original statue?  And even if he did, how would he have known what it was?  Was there an inscription:  To Yamato, from Baekje, hugs and kisses? I've yet to see anyone directly compare the purported replica with other statues, but I suspect that would be the route to at least check the age, but nobody seems to be saying that the style of the replica is blatantly wrong for a 6th or 7th century icon from the peninsula or by peninsular craftsmen.  Then again, there were plenty of local immigrants in the Naniwa area who could have potentially crafted an image.  Indeed, the area around modern Nagano even has traces of Goguryeo style burial cairns, possibly from immigrants settled out there to help with early horse cultivation, and so there is even the possibility that there were locals with the connections and skills to craft something. If you really want to know more, there is an entire work by Donald McCallum, titled “Zenkoji and Its Icon”, on not just the icon but the entire worship that sprang up around it and caused copies to spread throughout the archipelago. And that's where we will leave off for this episode.  In the next couple of episodes I want to finish up some of the secular history of this reign, and look a little bit outside of Yamato and the evidence in the Chronicles as well. Until then, thank you for listening and 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.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

This episode we start our look at the reign of Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Niha, aka Kinmei Tennō. We'll start off with a look at his ascension to the throne and some of the politics that we can see going on in the court. We'll also discuss some of the theories regarding this reign, particularly its chronological placement in the Chronicles, which may not be exactly as it seems. Still, we are in what many consider to be the historical period, meaning that the records the Chroniclers were working from are assumed to be more accurate—they were likely using more written material, including books we no longer have extant. However, that doesn't mean everything is factual, and it is clear there are still some lacunae in the texts and some additional massaging by the Chroniclers themselves. For more information, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-81   Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 81, the Politics of the Early Yamato Court. Last episode, before our Nara tour interlude, we covered the life of Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennō.  He picked up where his brother, Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennō, had[EB1]  left off, and is said to have reigned for about two and a half years, from 536 to 539.  During that time we see more of the rise of the family of Soga no Omi but we also see the Ōtomo no Muraji and the Mononobe going quite strong.  The sons of Ōtomo no Kanamura ended up involved with the government in Tsukushi, aka Kyuushuu, as well as the war efforts across the straits, mainly focused on Nimna and the surrounding areas.  Indeed, as we talked about last episode—episode 80—it is said that Ohtomo no Sadehiko went to Nimna and restored peace there, before lending aid to Baekje[EB2] .  This preoccupation with Nimna and events on the Korean peninsula are going to dominate our narrative moving forward, at least initially.  Much of the next reign focuses on events on the peninsula, rather than on the archipelago.  Oddly, this preoccupation isn't found everywhere.  In the Sendai Kuji Hongi—and other copies of the same work—there appears only a brief mention of Nimna, aka Mimana, in the record, which otherwise simply talks about inheritance and similar issues. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before we dive into all of that, to include all of the peninsular goodness that we have coming our way, let's briefly talk about some of the things a little closer to home.  Mainly, let's talk about the succession and who our next sovereign appears to be. So first off, his name is given as Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niha, and he is posthumously known to us as Kimmei Tennō.  For my part, rather than repeating the whole thing, I'm going to refer to him simply as Ame Kunioshi, though I'm honestly not sure if the best way to parse his name, assuming it isn't just another type of royal title.  He is said to have been the son of Wohodo no Ōkimi, aka Keitai Tennō, and his queen, Tashiraga, a sister to Wohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennō. This would all seem pretty straightforward if it weren't for the fact that two of his half-brothers had taken the throne before him.  Prince Magari and his brother, Takewo, were descended through another line, that of Menoko, daughter of Owari no Muraji no Kusaka.  Menoko did not appear to meet the Nihon Shoki's Chroniclers' strict requirements for being named queen—namely, they don't bother to trace her lineage back to the royal line in some way, shape, or form.  As such, the Nihon Shoki tries to pass off the reigns of the two brothers as though they were just keeping the seat warm while Ame Kunioshi himself came of age. None of the language used, however, really suggests that they were not considered legitimate in the eyes of their respective courts, and in all aspects they played the part of sovereign, and it is quite likely that if they had reigned long enough, or had valid heirs, themselves, we may be reading a slightly different story.  As it is, the Chroniclers likely manipulated the narrative just enough to ensure that things made sense in terms of a linear progression. And that manipulation hardly stopped at his ascension.  The account of Ame Kunioshi on the throne is filled with questionable narration.  Beyond just the fantastical—accounts of kami and of evil spirits—much of the reign is focused on events on the Korean peninsula, and these are almost always portrayed as actions by the Kingdom of Baekje, one of the three largest kingdoms across the straits, along with Silla and Goguryeo.  Baekje, in turn, is portrayed in the Nihon Shoki as a loyal vassal state, constantly looking to the sovereign of Yamato as their liege and attempting to carry out their will. For the most part, this is a blatant attempt by the Chroniclers to place Yamato front and center, and in control of events on the mainland.  Taken at face value, it has for a long time fueled nationalist claims to the Korean peninsula, and may have even been designed for that very purpose.  Remember, a history like this was written as much for a political purpose as it was record for posterity, and the narration is about as trustworthy as that of a certain fictional radio host in a sleepy desert community.  And yet, we want to be careful about throwing the proverbial baby out with the bathwater, here.  The Nihon Shoki is a treasure trove of stories about this period and what was happening on the mainland, even if we have to be careful of taking everything at face value.  The details given in the text are sometimes more than any other sources we have for this period, and they are certainly closer to the source.  Korean sources, such as the Samguk Sagi, the Samguk Yusa, and the Tongkam all have their own gaps in the literature of the time, as well as their own political aims and goals, such that even they are suspect.  Sure, the flowery speechification is probably a little too much, but much of the back and forth seems reasonable, and there are numerous times where the Nihon Shoki directly quotes the copy of the Baekje annals that they had at the time—a text that is no longer extant, and which seems to have items that did not make it into later collections.  By following the back and forth and the flow of allegiances and deceptions, and looking at who was said to have been involved—both the individuals and the countries—we might be able to draw a picture of this era. And what a picture it will be.  I probably won't get to it all today, but there is conflict over Nimna, with Baekje and Yamato typically teaming up against Silla and Goguryeo, but there are other things as well.  For one thing, nothing in this era is cut and dried, and while there are overarching themes, alliances were clearly fluid, and could quickly change.  Furthermore, all this activity spawned a new level of interaction, particularly between Baekje and Yamato, and we see a new era of Baekje sharing their knowledge with Yamato.  For instance, this reign we see the first mention of Yin-Yang Divination studies—the famous Onmyouji—as well as calendrical studies in the archipelago.  We also see the arrival of Buddhism to the islands.  Well, at least we see the formal introduction of Buddhism; given all of the people in the archipelago who came over from the continent, there were likely more than a few Buddhists already living in the archipelago, but it hadn't grown, yet, to be a State religion, as it would be in later centuries. To try to do this period justice, I'm going to try to break things down a bit so that we can focus on various themes as we move through the stories here.  It will probably take us a few episodes to get through.  Furthermore, at some point here I want to talk about this new religion, Buddhism, and how it traveled all the way from India to the islands of Japan.  But for now, let's focus on the Chronicles. Not all of what is talked about in this reign is focused on the mainland, so I'm going to start us off talking about the stories about this period that are taking place in the islands themselves, starting with how Ame Kunioshi came to the throne.  Or rather, with some events just before he came to the throne. The first story about Ame Kunioshi comes when he is simply a prince—it is unclear during which reign this is supposed to have happened, only that it happened before he came to the throne.  The Chronicles say that Ame Kunioshi had a dream in which he was told to seek out a man named Hata no Ōtsuchi. We've seen in the past these kinds of oracular dreams, where the gods, or kami, will speak directly to a person—often to the sovereign or someone close to the sovereign.  By all accounts, the ability to act as a conduit for the kami was an important aspect of rulership and political power at this time, and we've seen the supposed consequences of not listening to such an oracle as well.  And so he sent people out to find this man, who was eventually found in the Kii district of the land of Yamashiro. Now this area is not surprising.  It is identified as the area, today, in the modern Fushimi district of Kyoto.  In fact, it includes the area of the famous Fushimi Inari Taisha—the Fushimi Inari shrine.  That shrine is also connected to the Hata family. For those who don't recall, the Hata family appear to have been descended from weavers who were brought over from the continent.  The kanji used for their name is the same as that of the Qin dynasty, from which we get the modern name of China, though the pronunciation is taken from the word “Hata”, which appears to refer to a type of cloth, and also resembles the word for banners or flags.  We mentioned them some time back in episode 63, when we talked about one of the early heads of the Hata, who was given the name Uzumasa.  That name is still used to identify a district in Kyoto to this day. And so here we are, back in the Kyoto area, near Fushimi shrine, which is also, as it happens, connected to the Hata family.  That story is found not in the Nihon Shoki, but rather it is attributed to fragments of the Yamashiro no Fudoki.  In that account we hear tell of a wealthy man named Irogu, whom we are told is a distant relative of Hata no Nakatsu no Imiki—no doubt a contemporary to the Yamashiro Fudoki, and the reason the story made the cut.  Irogu, it seems, had made himself wealthy through rice cultivation.  In fact, he had so much rice that he was using mochi—pounded glutinous rice cakes—as targets for his archery practice.  As he was shooting at the mochi, suddenly one of them turned into a swan and flew up into the sky, up to the top of a nearby mountain.  Where it landed rice, or “ine”, began to grow. That mountain is none other than the site of Fushimi Inari Shrine, a shrine that will show up again and again in various stories, as it was quite prominent.  Though the shrine was only founded in the 8th century, the story may indicate that there were older rituals, or perhaps that it was a focus of worship much like Mt. Miwa, down in the land of Yamato, to the south, and that shrine buildings were simply added to the mountain at a later date.  Fushimi is, of course, the place, and Inari is the name of the god, or kami, worshipped at the shrine.  Inari is a god of farming—specifically of rice cultivation—and today small Inari shrines can be found throughout Japan.  They are typified by red gates—usually multiple gates, one after the other, often donated by various individuals.  In addition, one might see Inari's servants and messengers, foxes, which take the place of the lion-dogs that often guard shrine precincts.  Importantly, these foxes are not the kami themselves, but simply the kami's messengers.  Still people will often bring gifts of oily, deep fried tofu—abura-age—said to be a favorite of foxes, to help ensure that their prayers—their messages to the kami—are swiftly and properly delivered. I could probably do an entire episode on Fushimi Inari and Inari worship in Japan.  There is so much material on the phenomenon on foxes, or kitsune, and fox-spirits, especially with the co-mingling of both continental and insular belief, which is sometimes at odds.  For now, however, we can confine ourselves to the fact that Fushimi clearly had connections to the Hata family, who have shown up a few times in the past, but are still largely taking bit roles in things at the moment.  Nonetheless, since the Chroniclers were writing from the 8th century, things like this, which were no doubt important to the powerful families of their day, were often included. Getting back to our main story, when Hata no Ōtsuchi came before the prince, Ame Kunioshi, he told a story of how he had been traveling the land, coming back from trading in Ise, when he came upon two wolves, fighting each other on a mountain.  The wolves were each covered in blood from their hostilities, and yet, through all of that, Hata no Ōtsuchi recognized them as visible incarnations of kami.  Immediately he got off his horse, rinsed his hands and mouth to purify himself, and then made a prayer to the kami.  In his prayer he admonished them for delighting in violence.  After all, while they were there, attacking each other, what if a hunter came along and, not recognizing their divine nature, took both of them?  With his earnest prayer he got them to stop fighting and he then cleaned off the blood and let them both go, thus saving their lives. Hearing such a story, Ame Kunioshi determined that his dream was likely sent by the same kami saved by Ōtsuchi, or perhaps another spirit who had seen his good deed, who was recommending this good Samaritan to the prince.  And who was he to deny the kami?  So when he came to the throne, Ame Kunioshi put Hata no Ōtsuchi in charge of the Treasury. That would have to wait until he actually ascended the throne, however; an opportunity that preserved itself with the death of his half brother, Takewo no Ōkimi.  When Takewo passed away in 539, we are told that the ministers all requested that Ane Kunioshi take the throne, but at first he deferred, suggesting that the wife of his eldest half brother, Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennō, take the throne, instead. This was the former queen, Yamada, daughter of Ōke no Ōkimi, aka Ninken Tennō, so no doubt she had a good sense of how the government should work.  Yet she, too, waved off the honor.  Her reasoning, though, is a very patriarchal and misogynistic diatribe about how women aren't fit four the duties of running the country.  Clearly it is drawn from continental sources, and it always makes me wonder.  After all, the Nihon Shoki was being written in the time of rather powerful women controlling the Yamato court – which, I imagine irked some people to no end, especially those learned in classic literature, such as the works of Confucius. So I wonder why this was put in.  Did he truly defer to her?  Or was this just to demonstrate his magnanimous nature?  Was she pushed aside by the politics of the court?  I also wonder why they went to her, and not Takewo's wife.  It is also interesting to me that the Chroniclers only note her own objections to her rule, and there isn't a peep out of the assembled ministers. There appears to be another possible angle.  Some scholars have pointed out inconsistencies with the timeline and events in the reign of Ame Kunioshi that may have actually happened much earlier, including the arrival of Buddhism.  They suggest that perhaps there was a period of multiple rulers, possibly rival dynasties, with Magari no Ohine and his brother, Takewo, handling one court and Ame Kunioshi ruling another.  If that were the case, then was Yamada the senior person in the other line?  At the very least she represents the transfer of power and authority over to Tashiraga's lineage. Moving forward, we're going to want to pay close attention to these kinds of political details.  Often we'll see how how princes of different mothers will end up as pawns in the factional infighting that will become de rigeur in the Yamato court, with different families providing wives in the hopes that they might eventually be family members to the next sovereign. So, however it really happened, Ame Kunioshi took the throne.  He reappointed Ōtomo no Kanamura and Mononobe no Okoshi Ōmuraji and named Soga no Iname no Sukune back to his position as Ō-omi.  He set up his palace at a place called Shikishima, in the district of Shiki in the middle of the Nara Basin in the ancient country of Nara—still within sight of Mt. Miwa and, by now, numerous kofun built for previous kings, queens, and various nobles.  Both the Emishi and the Hayato are said to have come and paid tribute—apparently part of the enthronement rituals—and even envoys from Baekje, Silla, Goguryeo and Nimna are said to have stopped in with congratulatory messages.  These were probably fairly pro forma messages to maintain good—or at least tolerable—relations between the various states of the day, not unlike today when various people call a newly elected president or prime minister to congratulate them on their own entry to office. He also took as his Queen his own niece, daughter of his half-brother, the previous sovereign, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennō.  Her name was Ishihime, and she would provide Ame Kunioshi with several children, including the Crown Prince, Wosada Nunakara Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka the eventual Bidatsu Tennō. By the way, for anyone concerned that Ame Kunioshi was” robbing the cradle”, so to speak, remember that he was already 33 years younger than his brother.  It is quite possible, assuming the dates are correct, that he and Ishihime were roughly the same age.  To put it another way, if Ame Kunioshi was a Millennial, his brother Takewo had been a Boomer, meaning that Ishihime was likely either Gen X or a Millennial herself, to extend the analogy. Of course, they were still uncle and niece, so… yeah, there's that.  I could point out again that at this time it was the maternal lineage that determined whether people were considered closely related or not.  Children of different mothers, even with the same fathers, were considered distant enough that it was not at all scandalous for them to be married, and that we probably should be careful about placing our own cultural biases on a foreign culture—and at this point in history many aspects of the culture would be foreign even to modern Japanese, just as a modern person from London would likely find conditions in the Anglo Saxon era Lundenwic perhaps a bit off-putting.  Still, I don't think I can actually recommend the practice. Now it is true he was coming to the throne at relatively young age.  He was probably about 30 years old when he took charge of the state, while his brothers, their father's eldest sons, had come to the throne much later in life, in their 50s or 60s.  And if Ame Kunioshi was actually ruling earlier then he might have been younger, running the state of Yamato—or at least some part of it—when he was still in his early 20s. Along with Ishihime, Ame Kunioshi took several other wives.  The first two were Ishihime's younger sisters, Kurawakaya Hime and Hikage.  Then there were two daughters of Soga no Iname—and yes, *that* Soga no Iname, the re-appointed Ō-omi.  At least three of the next four sovereigns would come from those two unions, and I'll let you take a guess at how the Soga family's fortunes fared during that time.  Finally, the last wife was was named Nukako, and she was the daughter of Kasuga no Hifuri no Omi.   Kasuga was also the family name of Kasuga no Yamada no Himemiko, who had turned down the throne to allow Ame Kunioshi to ascend, though we don't hear too much else from the Kasuga family.  This could be connected to that, although it is hard to be certain.  For the most part the Kasuga family seems to stay behind the scenes, but the fact that they are inserting themselves into the royal line at different points would seem to be significant.   The Soga, on the other hand, are going to feature quite prominently in matters of state moving forward. While it is unclear just when the various marriages occurred—they may have happened before or after his ascension to the throne—it is interesting to see how much influence the Soga family may have had in the royal bedchamber, something we would do well to remember as we look into this period.  And while the Soga family was on the rise, other families were not doing so well.  In particular, it seems that something happened to the Ōtomo family. Now don't get me wrong, Ōtomo Kanamura, that veteran courtier, was reappointed as Ōmuraji at the start of the reign, and given all of his influence up to this point, he clearly had been doing something right.  But then we have a single incident at the start of Ame Kunioshi's reign that makes me wonder. It took place during a court visit to Hafuri-tsu-no-miya over at Naniwa—modern Ōsaka.  Hafuri would appear to refer to a Shinto priest, so apparently they were at the palace—or possibly shrine—of the Priest, at least as far as I can make out.  When Ame Kunioshi went out, much of the court came with, including Ōtomo no Kanamura, Kose no Omi no Inamochi, and Mononobe no Okoshi.    Of those three, Kose no Inamochi seems a bit of an odd choice, but we'll go with it, for now. While they were there, away from the palace, talking over various subjects, the conversation turned towards talk about invading Silla.  At this, Mononobe no Okoshi related the story of how Kanamura had basically orchestrated giving up four districts of Nimna over to Baekje.  Those were the Upper and Lower Tari, Syata, and Muro.  This had pissed off Silla, who no doubt wanted as much of a buffer state between them and their allies as possible, and who also may have felt that Nimna and other border states were theirs to manipulate.  Through all of these talks and deliberations, which apparently went on for some time, Kanamura stayed at home, out of the public eye, feigning illness.  Eventually, though Awomi no Ōtoshi no Magariko came to check in on him and see how he was doing, and Kanamura admitted that he had simply been feigning illness to get out of the humiliation of having given up the provinces so many years ago. Hearing of this, Ame Kunioshi pardoned Ōtomo no Kanamura of any guilt.  He could put the past behind him and speak nothing of it. And he did.  Speak nothing of it, that is.  Or at least nothing that was recorded in the Chronicles.  From here on out, we don't hear of Kanamura—and barely of Ōtomo.  There is a brief mention of Kanamura's son, Sadehiko, who had gone to the Korean peninsula to fight back in the previous reign.  Then, another member of the Ōtomo pops up again in the reign of Bidatsu, but this appears to be the last time we see an “Ōtomo no Ōmuraji”—no other Ōtomo would be recorded as having taken that position, even though others, particularly the Mononobe, would continue to be honored with the title up through at least the 7th century. Ōtomo no Kanamura's exit at this point in the narrative seems somewhat appropriate, as the narrative will go on to focus on Nimna, and the violence on the peninsula.  That fighting would consume much of the next century, with Silla eventually winding up on top, but that was not always a foregone conclusion.  In the meantime there were numerous battles, back and forth.  Sometimes it was Silla and Goguryeo against Baekje and Yamato.  Other times, Silla and Baekje fought against Goguryeo.  Then there were the smaller states of Kara, Ara, Nimna, and more. With all of that chaos, the Chronicles record numerous people from the peninsula coming to stay in the archipelago, but also there were many ethnic Wa people—possibly from Yamato, especially based on their names—that went to live and fight on the peninsula as well.  Family names such as the Mononobe, Ikuba, and even Kibi show up with Baekje or Silla titles, intermingled with other names of unknown, though likely peninsular, origin.  This intermingling would appear to indicate that the states of the Korean peninsula were multi-ethnic states, with individuals from all over.   Despite—or perhaps even because of—all the fighting, there seems to be an increased intercourse between the various states, as well as with states like the Northern Wei, to the West, in the Yellow River Basin, and Liang, to the South, along the Yangtze. We'll dive into all of that chaos and confusion—and try to draw a few more concrete facts and concepts—next time. Until then, thank you for listening and 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.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

This is part 1 of a special series taking you around some of the historical sites in the Nara basin.  I hope you enjoy.   ROUGH TRANSCRIPT: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is a special episode: Traveling through the ancient Nara Basin, part 1 First things first, apologies as I had fully intended to jump into the story of Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niha, aka Kimmei Tennō.  However, I've been recently overcome with a bout of Real Life, which has prevented me from doing the full prep work that such an episode deserves.  The entry for Kimmei Tennō in the Nihon Shoki is easily one of the longer entries, and there is a lot to digest, and I don't want to jump in until I've been able to do a bit more research. Instead, I figured I would do something different and introduce you to a little tour of the Nara Basin and all of the wonderful sites that one can go and check out, many of which are still there and quiet accessible.  In fact, I recently spent some time there doing *cough* “research”, by which I mean traveling around and walking through the ancient landscape to see what remained. Now many people may be familiar with Nara, the city which gave the basin its name.  Founded in 710, it was the site of the first long term, permanent continental style capital on the archipelago.  Today it is a beautiful city, nestled against the mountains, with ancient temples, shrines, and the occasional kofun, which predate the founding of the ancient capital. It is also home to what we've come to call the Nara attack deer.  Within the main historical park area, between Kōfukuji Temple, Tōdaiji Temple, and Kasuga Shrine, hunting is strictly outlawed, and the deer wander boldly throughout the streets.  Unafraid of humans, they are generally polite, until they find an easy mark: typically a timid soul who has foolishly purchased a set of Shika Senbei, or deer crackers, hoping to gently feed the deer in an Instagram-worthy video post.  The deer, however, often have other ideas, especially the young bucks, who might even use their antlers to prod such people,  hoping to startle them into dropping all of the crackers. All joking aside, the deer in Nara are just as much a draw as the rest of the city, which draws thousands of tourists every year, but it is only a small part of a larger area. Today we are going to explore a little bit outside the  standard tourist route, in the southeast corner of the basin, between the cities of Tenri and Sakurai. This is the area mentioned in the oldest stories in the Chronicles, from the time of the “first sovereign”, Mimaki Iribiko, and his successor, Ikume Iribiko.  Archaeological excavations have turned up evidence of people from across the archipelago living here—or at least interacting—since the third century, which we talked about in Episode 28.  That's right around the time of Queen Himiko and the emergence of the giant round keyhole shaped tumuli, or Zenpō-kōen Kofun, thought to contain the remains of the kings of ancient Yamato. Today, this area remains relatively rural.  Between the cities of Tenri and Sakurai, they still have less than half the population of Nara, their northern neighbor.  Urban areas around the train stations quickly give way to rice fields and fruit orchards.  The lack of urban development is often a good thing for archaeologists, suggesting that there remain many potential sites under the soil.  It can be a bit of a challenge, however, for the modern traveler.  While there are trains and local b uses, expect to experience much of the area as the ancient people of Yamato would have: by walking. To start us off, then, let's imagine ourselves traveling down, by train, to Sakurai, and to the ancient shrine of Ōmiwa.  As you approach, keep an eye out for the massive Shintō torii gate that towers over the buildings around it, marking the entrance to the omote-sandō, the outer approach, to Ōmiwa and the sacred Mt. Miwa that is the focus of worship, there. Even today, Miwa dominates the landscape. While the large torii are clearly modern—and even the famous triple torii gates at the foot of the mountain are probably a later addition—it nonetheless demonstrates the continued importance of the shrine and the sacred mountain in this region. Fortunately, today, you need not walk the entire approach, as the train station drops you off much closer to the shrine, along the latter part of the omote-sandō.  Speaking of which, I should perhaps describe this common feature at many famous shrines and temples. The omote-sandō, or outer approach, is both a part of the shrine and yet not at the same time.  It is typically the main road to the shrine, or at least the traditional approach.  Unlike the main ground of the shrine, these are public roads with numerous shops lining the sides, typically geared towards those making a pilgrimage to the shrine itself.  You can usually find various souvenirs, restaurants, as well as local sweets and delicacies to take back as gifts. These paths may have one belonged to the shrine, especially if it used to be a larger institution that could then use the land rents to help pay for their own upkeep, and you may find auxiliary shrines or temples along the way, but there seems to have always been a kind of symbiotic relationship with places of worship and the merchants catering to the pilgrims visiting them. It is not dissimilar to how restaurants, motels, and gift shops spring up around various attractions anywhere else in the world. Fortunately, at Ōmiwa shrine, as I said the train station is actually well along the outer approach, meaning you don't have to walk the entire thing if you do not wish. As you approach the main shrine, you'll come to a second torii gate, leading you into the forested area of the main shrine grounds, which leads you to the Edo period haiden, or prayer hall. One of the unique things about Ōmiwa shrine is that they never built an actual building to contain the spirit of the kami of the shrine, which in this case is Ōmononushi.  Instead, the kami lives on the mountain itself. This is thought to be the older style of worship, where the kami were thought to live in the mountains, close to the sun and the sky.  Many stories talk about the kami alighting from the heavens onto mountains, and early depictions of them taking corporal, or visible, form are often as animals—snakes and other such things—living on or near the mountain. There is a teaching, in fact, that as rice cultivation grew in Japan, many communities would create a sacred space in or near the rice fields, designating a pillar and setting up a sacred fence, and call the kami down from the mountain to reside close to the workers, who were growing there rice.  At harvest time, the village would celebrate, offering a part of the harvest to the kami, who had helped it grow, and sending the kami back to the mountain. Over time, the pillar was covered with a roof, to avoid the rot and deterioration that comes with being outside throughout most of the year, and eventually that grew into a building, where ceremonies could be conducted.  This is one story for how the modern shrine came to be. In most places, even at sacred mountains, they will have an actual shrine building for the key focus of worship, but, as I said, at Ōmiwa they have maintained an older style of worship.  Therefore, where most prayer halls are simply placed in front of the main building, where the spirit is enshrined, the haiden of Ōmiwa sits in front of the entrance to the mountain itself.  If you find yourself with the time and the inclination, you can hike the trails up Mt. Miwa, though they are clear to indicate that this is a religious place, and not just a hike through the wilderness, and people are expected to treat it appropriately. Regrettably, when I was there I had limited time, and so I didn't get a chance to hike up, but maybe that will be a trip for another day. From Ohomiwa shrine, you have several options.  The most scenic is to travel north along the Yamanobe no Michi, the ancient mountain road. This road—though mostly more a walking path—is touted as the oldest road in all of Japan.  This designation comes from the fact that it is the first road mentioned in the Nihon Shoki, with various kofun and ancient palaces sited in relation to it over the years.  It travels up along the foot of the mountains all the way to Nara city, and takes you through some absolutely beautiful countryside.  I was last there in the fall, and people were walking the trail looking for pictures of fall foliage there and in the mountains. It is unclear to me just how stable the route of this Yamanobe no Michi actually has been over the years. Certainly there have been paths along the foothills, but the designation of this particular path seems, perhaps, arbitrary.  What I will not dispute is that this path winds through countryside that has a long history, which you can see all around you.  Aside from the larger, more obvious kofun of the ancient kings, the landscape is dotted with smaller examples as well.  As I walked along the trail, I made something of a sport of “kofun hunting”—looking for mounds in fields and then checking to see if it was a kofun or a natural feature.  Of course, more often then not, it was a kofun—even if it is now in the middle of some farmer's persimmon orchard.  It was fascinating to see just how many were there—especially when you consider that many mounds may have collapsed or been worn away over the years. Not all of the kofun I wanted to see were along the ancient path ways, however.  Specifically, I was on the lookout for one of the oldest of the giant keyhole tomb mounds:  Hashihaka kofun. Hashihaka is a bit of a detour from the old Yamanobe no Michi—if you take the train it is about halfway between Miwa and Makimuku JR train stations.  Coming up on it, and not knowing anything else, you might dismiss it as little more than a large, tree-covered hill, though the water-filled moat might alert you that something is up.  Of course, from up above, or looking at a map, one can clearly make out the keyhole shaped features of the kofun mound. As I said, this is thought to be one of the oldest of the keyhole shaped mounds.  It has been dated to the mid to late 3rd century, and many people believe that this must be the resting place of the famous Queen Himiko, or at least someone from around her time.  The fact that the Chronicles say that there is a woman buried there who demonstrated shaman-like powers in her interactions with the kami lend a lot of credence to that—something we first discussed back in episode 13, when we talked about the evidence for Queen Himiko. When it was new, of course, the mound would not have been covered in trees.  The various levels would have been carefully graded, with clear steps showing the levels up to the top of the mound.  It may have started out at its core as a small hill that was then reshaped, or it may have been built from the ground up—I'm not sure if we can tell without more intrusive investigations.  The surface would have been covered with small stones, which likely inhibited too much growth, although it still would have required maintenance, and likely some number of households were identified to regularly provide labor and rice for the mound's upkeep. An early kofun like this would not have had the elaborate haniwa of later evolutions.  There have been found some haji-ware style pots that have holes drilled into the bottom, thus indicating that they were not likely being used to store anything—or at least not in the way a normal pot would.  These were along the squarish front shape of the kofun.  Later, we find cylindrical stands, which become the basis for the actual haniwa that cover so many other kofun. Still, even without this, the shape and the material and other such aspects would have called out that this was a special place. Hashihaka kofun sits in the shadow of Mt. Miwa, though it isn't directly oriented towards it.  Possibly there is religious significance in its direction, but some of that may have been dictated by other local features at the time, some of which may no longer be evident, including the shape of any original hill or mound used in the kofun's creation.  It is clear, however, that it would have been visible for quite some distance, and even today it towers over most of the one-to-two storey buildings that surround it. It would also have been clearly visible from the site of our next stop, at Makimuku JR train station. Makimuku is a small station, and mostly just a stop in the region for those living in the area.  Still, when you are in a land as steeped in history as the Nara basin, there is always something around, and at Makimuku it is the remains of an ancient third century palace. Uncovered near the JR train lines and the station, the Makimuku palace is largely indicated by postholes, indicating at least three distinct raised buildings on the site.  Numerous excavations have been carried out in the area, indicating habitation through the 3rd and 4th centuries, with a shift closer to the mountains in the latter part of the area's focus.  There is indication of trade with people on Korean peninsula, and indication of goods from as far away as Southeast Asia, at least.  Many of these excavations are now beneath homes and other buildings that have sprung up over time, but you can still see where the Makimuku palace was, though access is a little strange.  From the station, one walks around and through the nearby streets—you actually walk away from the ruins and then eventually back towards them.  The actual entrance to the site is more like an empty lot between two buildings, providing access to an area with the location of the main postholes indicated in concrete.  There is a small board where someone is ensuring that information about the site is being kept up for any interested travelers. This is definitely a site for someone with a keen interest in history and not necessarily a site that most tourists would likely come to visit.  There are no reconstructed buildings—anything that someone did build would simply be conjecture, as it is merely the postholes and some various fragments of pottery and other trade goods that have been found.  And yet from there you can get a sense of the size of how large the Makimuku area, at the foot of Mt. Miwa, might have been.  From there to Hashihaka kofun is a comfortable walk, and both Hashihaka and the sacred Mt. Miwa would have been clearly visible at the time.  Nearby is the Yamato River, to provide another form of early transportation.  And all around is flat land that makes for excellent rice farming, which would have spurred on the ancient economy and may explain how Yamato was able to grow so large so quickly. Around the countryside, we have plenty of reminders of this period.  Besides Hashihaka kofun, there are numerous others, many of them from the late 3rd to 4th centuries and attributed to some of the figures from the Nihon Shoki, including Mimaki and Ikume Iribiko.  Of course, there are also various signposts that detail where tradition states this or that palace was or some other event.  Given the lack of detail in the chronicles, it is hard to know how accurate any of this is, but walking around at least gives you some idea of the area and where all of this was taking place. Many of these are just north of Sakurai proper, and in the area of Tenri city, in Nara, but I'm going to hold off on talking about that at this point, as we'll probably make that the focus of a second part of this little travelogue. I do want to point out, though, a few more things in the area.  For instance, there is a shrine to sumou, recounting the supposed first sumou match mentioned in the Chronicles.  There are also several supposed palace sites closer to the mountains themselves. Looking away from the mountains, across the Yamato River, we can see the flat plain of the Shiki district.  “Shiki” is an area that pops up time and again in the Chronicles, and the area of Tawaramoto is well built up, today.  Across the flat plain you can see the mountain ridge that would separate the Nara basin and the land of Yamato from the area of Kawachi and modern Ohosaka proper.  Beyond them both is the Seto Inland Sea. I'll have some photos from this trip up on the podcast website for those who want to get an idea of what it is like on the ground, but it is a fairly easy area to reach from a variety of different locations.  North is Tenri and Nara, each with their own areas of historical interest, and west and south you have the areas of Kashihara and Asuka, which both feature prominently in the chronicles, especially in some of the later sections.  I'll try to do a little bit of each of them as I can, interspersing these geographical descriptions in between other episodes to help give a better sense of the area and perhaps give you a bit of guidance for your own travels. And that is going to do it for this episode.  Thanks for taking this detour with me - I'm going to keep looking into the reign of Ame Kunioshi, and hopefully we can get to him next time. Until then, thank you for listening and 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.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

新年あけましておめでとうございます。 Happy New Year! This brief episode we take some time to recap the past year and look at what is cominng up in the future.  In addition, we will talk a little bit about the behind the scenes.   Rough Transcript Shinnen akemashite omedetou gozaimasu!  Happy New Year! Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is our New Year's Recap Episode for 2023. This year we covered topics from the 5th to the 6th centuries—from the time of Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune, aka Ingyou Tennou, back in episode 56, all the way up to Wohodo and his son, Magari no Ohoye, aka Keitai and Ankan Tennou, in episode 78.  These are the 19th through 25th and 26th sovereigns, according to the official reckoning, though as we've mentioned there are possibly a few missing—and maybe even a few added.  Still, in this time, we've seen the growth of the Yamato state, as well as various changes involving their relations with those on the other side of the continent.  So let's take a moment to look back at this and pull up from the individual stories to see how the larger narrative is coming along. Before we get into that, a quick note of thanks for all of our listeners out there.  We appreciate you—thank you for staying with us through this journey.  It is just so great to know there are others out there who are interested in all of this.  Also thanks to those who've reached out with assistance or with suggestions.  While not everything fits into the format or what we are currently doing, I have a list of things that I'm looking for ways to do or insert into the narrative at some point. I also thought I'd try to lift the curtain for you all a bit on the production of this little show, to help you understand a bit more about what goes into it. So first off, for those who haven't realized already, we aren't part of a major podcast network and we don't have a crew of people putting this together.  For the most part it is me and my wife, both of whom have other jobs and responsibilities, doing our best to put it out there.  Typically I'm looking for downtime to do the research and put a given episode together, and after I write my first draft I give it to her for a sanity check and editing.  Once she's had time to go over it, I record the podcast, which isn't always smooth, and edit out as many of the mistakes as I can.  Then we upload it—we are currently using Libsyn for distribution, and schedule it for release on either the first or the sixteenth of every month. Once the episode is recorded, that's usually where we start working on a blog post for the episode; I'm not sure how much people read the blogposts, vice just listen, since this is an audio medium more than anything else, but that is where I've tried to put up various names and individuals for people to follow along with what is going on, since we have so many different characters. One of the things that takes the most time is searching through and finding the images for the podcast blogs.  In some cases, I pull from our own extensive library of photos taken at various times and places, and otherwise I usually am looking for images in the public domain or at least using a license that can be used on the website. Depending on the amount of time all this takes, I try to focus first and foremost on getting the audio out on a consistent and regular basis, and sometimes I have to come back to the blog post later. I am hoping to add into this the transcripts for the show, to make things more accessible, as well as adding content up on YouTube, though that requires turning things into “video” which is all doable, just time consuming, especially with 78 episodes to update.  The transcripts should also allow me to add captions on YouTube, but I'm still figuring that out. And of course all of this is done as a labor of love at the moment—I still have a day job that pays the bills for hosting, new research material, etc., though Patreon and Ko-Fi donations are always appreciated. So those are the things that go into making the podcast.  If you have thoughts, advice, or questions, please feel free to reach out. Now, looking at the past year, we've spent a lot of time with the family that many scholars know as the Kawachi dynasty.  This is a term derived from the fact that early on they are said to have ruled from around the Naniwa area, and the giant keyhole tombs that popped up were largely in the Mozu-Furuichi tumulus group in modern Osaka, in the old land of Kawachi.  This includes the largest tumuli ever built, including Daisen-ryou. Daisen-ryou is the largest kofun in Japan and about the largest mausoleum for a single person in the world—on par with tomb of the Qin Shihuangdi, the first emperor of Qin, in modern Xi'an, for sheer size.  It is several stories tall, and really is like a man-made mountain.  It is also surrounded by numerous other kofun.  Compare this to the Great Pyramid, in Egypt.  The Pyramids are taller, rising over 140 meters in the air compared to Daisen's 47 meter height, but the pyramid rises from a square base about 53,000 square meters.  Daisen's mound, meanwhile, covers about 100,000 square meters, and with the moats, covers approximately 460,000 square meters in total. I finally had the opportunity to visit the Mozu tumulus group in November this past year and it really is impressive.  One thing about these tombs is the manpower that was clearly required to build them.  They are *massive* and it required an enormous engineering effort.  Before all the trees grew up on the mound and the surrounding earthworks—not to mention all of the modern buildings—these tombs would have been clearly viewable from miles around.  This ability to mobilize individuals in a single effort is one of the key factors that archaeologists look at to assess the strength of the early state in the archipelago. One other thing about these mounds, and something I'm not quite sure we addressed—recent investigations appear to indicate that most of them were built with solar and lunar considerations.  While this might not be entirely obvious when looking at a map—they appear almost to be random at that point—a team out of Italy published an article in the journal, Remote Sensing, in January of this past year, 2022, that used satellite imagery to study the orientation of the major keyhole tombs in the Japanese archipelago.  They determined that the orientations were not random, and that there appears to be a connection to both the sun and the moon, so that the main corridor would be illuminated by both throughout the year.  Daisen Ryou is even oriented specifically to the summer solstice sunset. Of course, some of these astronomical alignments may be affected by other factors.  For example, those kofun near the eastern edge of the Nara basin won't see the sunrise until it crests over the mountains, which may affect their orientation.  Others may have also been influenced by things like proximity to sacred sites, like Mt. Miwa.  And of course, subsidiary tombs, like the others in the Mozu Kofun group, were oriented in relation to the main tomb.  None of this was done willy-nilly; there is still a lot to be considered, and it is also possible that the importance of various directions and points on the calendar changed over the centuries of kofun building and even with differences in local practice.  There is still a lot of work to be done here, but it is fascinating to see continued work on this topic, including the use of modern technology, especially with the restrictions placed on modern archaeologists when it comes to excavating these kofun that remain so closely tied to the Japanese imperial family. For all that we don't know, the Mozu and Furuichi kofun groups do leave their mark on this period, which covered much of the last year.  Even the Chronicles, as questionable as they may be in their narrative, describe courts at least attached to the Kawachi area, especially Naniwa, generally identified as modern Ohosaka, where the Yodo river empties into the Seto Inland Sea.  The first tenno we talked about in 2022 was Woasatsuma Wakugo no Sukune, aka Ingyou Tennou—curious for the apparent use of a courtly title, Sukune, in his name.  Woasatsuma was supposedly disabled, although then miraculously healed, I guess?   Either way, he wasn't exactly expected to succeed his brothers, and yet he did. Woasatsuma's own death led to the kind of violent succession struggle that we've come to associate with this period.  His own son, Anaho, aka Ankou Tennou, took the reins, but immediately went after the Kusaka line, supposedly because of some dastardly deeds by a rogue courtier, named Ne no Omi.  After Anaho's forces killed Prince Ohokusaka, it was only later that they found out it was all just a big misunderstanding.  However, that's not how Ohokusaka's son, Mayuwaka, saw it, and he, at an extremely young age, took revenge and killed Anaho.  This set off yet another bout of bloodletting that saw Anaho's brother, Ohohatsuse Wakatakeru, murder his way through the royal family until he was the only surviving viable heir to the throne. The rise of Wakatakeru, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, would seem to make him out as quite the villain.  The Chroniclers certainly spill plenty of ink telling his story, but in hardly the most flattering of terms.  And yet, his reign is one of the lengthier and more impactful reigns.  He is also the first or second sovereign who appears to be confirmed by contemporary sources.  The first might be Woasatsuma Wakugo, though this is questionable – the famous mirror from the Suda Hachiman Shrine has an inscription that can be read in several different ways, but may recall his marriage in one interpretation.  For Wakatakeru, however, we have at least two swords from different parts of the archipelago that mention his name.  This seems to confirm that there was not only a sovereign named Wakatakeru—or possibly Wakatakiru—around the right time, but they had enough influence that their name was apparently known across the archipelago. This is also the time of the Five Kings of Wa from the Liu Song chronicles.  How exactly these sovereigns line up with the Ohokimi of the Chronicles is still unclear—many assume that Bu must be Wakatakeru, since Bu and Takeru use the same character, at least in modern interpretations.  A wrench in this theory is that Wakatakeru's name on the two swords, mentioned above, use characters in a phonetic, rather than meaningful, way.  So it isn't entirely clear that Wakatakeru used that character during his reign.  In fact, it is possible, though seemingly unlikely, that the five kings mentioned could be from another area of the Wa ethnic sphere altogether. Whosoever the Liu Song were interacting with, the discussion of the Wa and their requests give us some interesting detail about their ambitions on the peninsula and the archipelago.  Clearly someone on the Wa side was gathering enough support to not only make a trip to the Liu Song capital, situated as it was on the Yangtze river, but they were apparently credibly powerful enough for the Liu Song to take them seriously.  It is interesting that they were willing to also grant them titles over groups like Silla, Nimna, and Kara—titles that, arguably, the Liu Song had no authority to actually enforce, let alone grant—and yet they balked at legitimating titles over Baekje's territory.  Of course they also continue to refer to the territories of Mahan and Jinhan, which may not have actually been a going concern at the time.  They also differentiate between Nimna and Kara, which many later scholars would conflate into a single territory.  As such, most of this just brings up more questions for the 5th century than it answers. The archipelago's relationship with the continent in the fifth century is complicated.  Men of famous families are listed as having served in wars and fighting over on the continent, and there was certainly influx in the other direction, as well.  There is plenty of evidence for Baekje and other groups moving to the continent and making a name of themselves. They seem to have brought with them ideas for expanding Yamato's control over the archipelago.  For instance, we see the corporate -Be groups, groups created as a familial unit but geared around production of a specific good or service.  Some of these, like the horse keeper's Be, and the Jewel-maker's Be, are based around particular professions, but others are groupings of peasant groups, whose agricultural output was designated for a specific function—either the support of a royal individual or the support of an institution, such as the maintenance of a royal kofun. In particular, those groups created around production of a specific good or service could be made up of individuals throughout the archipelago, who reported, it seems, to a single courtier and their family.  This nominally gave the court centralized control over these production groups, and blunted the rights of local lords to make demands of them.  It was a truly impressive claim, one that I am hesitant to say was fully enforceable, but which nonetheless spoke to the aspirations of the court to become a central government. An example of this was the Hata family, whose name seems to reference cloth production, something that was sought after on the continent, but who also use the character for the Qin dynasty, often claiming that they came from there, or possibly from “Jin-han” on the Korean peninsula, where a similar story claims the Qin name as the origin of that “Jin” moniker.  Hata no Sake, a courtier who had an in with Wakatakeru, was placed in charge of all members of the Hata lineage—so theoretically all of those weaver families who had come over from the continent.  In turn, he ensured that they turned out goods as taxes for the central court.  The Hata family themselves would build a power base in the area of modern Kyouto, and a district in Kyouto still carries their name:  Uzumasa, the name given to Hata no Sake and spelled out with the characters of “Great Hata”, or “Ohohata”. This is also the era of numerous stories, including the first instance of the story of Urashima Tarou, Japan's very own Rip Van Winkle character, although the story here is only in its infancy.  Fact and fiction were still quite clearly interwoven, making it difficult to tell what was actually going on and what are just stories of a time long long ago. Love him or hate him, Wakatakeru's reign largely defines the 5th century.  Before his death he placed the Ohotomo and the Mononobe in positions of great authority.  Ohotomo no Muruya, and his descendant, Ohotomo no Kanamura, wielded considerable power—arguably more than the sovereigns that followed after Wakatakeru.  Of those we saw Wakatakeru's son, aka Seinei Tennou, but then he was followed by two sons—and even the daughter—of Prince Ichinobe, who was, perhaps, a sovereign in his own right. Ihitoyo briefly took the throne—she is remembered as a short-lived regent, but in all honesty was likely a sovereign ruler in her own right—and then her two brothers, Woke and Ohoke—aka Kenzou and Ninken Tennou.  They came to the throne through adoption, rather than birth, we are told, having gone into hiding after their father's murder at the hands of Wakatakeru.  Their reigns would not be extremely long, however, and eventually the throne passed to Ohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou, the capstone on the Kawachi dynasty, which, despite its name, had theoretically moved back to the area of modern Sakurai, in the southeast corner of the Nara basin. With Wakasazaki's death, the court, under Ohotomo no Kanamura's apparent leadership, sought out a new candidate, and they had to go pretty far afield to do it.  They eventually settled on Wohodo, aka Keitai Tennou, and set him up on the throne.  While there are some who doubt even the existence of Keitai Tennou, considering him a potentially legendary founder of yet another dynasty, he is the bridge the Chroniclers use between the Kawachi dynasty and our last line of Yamato sovereigns—ones that would lead us up through to the present day.  Not that there weren't schisms and weird branchings or power-sharing arrangements between various lines after this time, but from about this point on we generally agree that the sovereigns appear to be related back to a common ancestor in at least the 6th century.  Beyond that, well, let's just say that we don't exactly trust everything that the Chroniclers put to paper. This new dynasty brought in new traditions, including abandoning the burial mound groups in the Mozu and Furuichi regions, and possibly abandoning, as well, a tradition of co-rulership, which appears to show up in the burials, but is not exactly attested to in the written Chronicles, possibly because it was too messy.  Such simplifications can be seen even in the modern day.  For instance, in some of the old martial arts, or koryu lineages, where there once were two distinct lineages, they may be conflated when they later came back together, with different generations interspersed amongst each other in an attempt to honor all those who came before.  Those without access to the history might look and think that it demonstrates a single, unbroken line, whereas the truth is messier and much more complicated.  Given what the Chroniclers had to work with, and the distance they were from the 6th century at that point, one has to wonder just what they actually knew. Although it may have been new, this dynasty appears to have acted much as the prior one did, possibly thanks to the continued presence of the Ohotomo family—specifically Ohotomo Kanamura.  He would continue to guide the ship of state as it entered a new era. All of this covers a critical period of state formation, as Yamato has gotten larger and more powerful, and exerts more and more influence it is also finding new ways of governing.  The key is that none of this happens at once, or in a vacuum. It isn't like one day a chieftain had an idea:  Hey, let's build giant mounds and then proclaim ourselves rulers of everything on these islands!  It was an evolution, and one that didn't necessarily always trend in a single direction towards a foregone conclusion, though of course that's how it often appears after the fact. At many points during this process, something could have happened—and sometimes did.  For instance, an unexpected death with no heirs, or military defeats on the continent.  Shifting alliances and changes in the balance of power could also destabilize things.  And yet, here we are, with court in Yamato sitting as at least primus inter pares, if not more, and with enough prestige to influence most of the archipelago, from the Kantou plain to Kyushu, and even to make an appearance in continental politics. And that's where stand, so far.  As we look into the New Year, we stare out into a new era of Japanese history.  This is still the Kofun era, yes, but in the coming year we can make out shapes of what is to come.  Influences from the continent will continue to shape the archipelago, including the influence of foreign thoughts from even beyond the edge of the upcoming Sui and Tang dynasties.  We see figures like the illusive, and possibly even fictitious, Shotoku Taishi, and the establishment of courts in the Asuka era.  This is the era of the coming of Buddhism, the rise of the Soga, and all of the benefits and strife that would bring to the archipelago and to the court.  All of that an more, soon to come.   That's all for now.  I just want to wish all of you, once more, a bright New Year—Shinnen Akemashite Omedetou Gozaimasu—and thank you again for listening.  Episode 79 we'll continue with this new dynasty, and look at possible connections with the continent, including some rather distant lands, next time on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

In celebration of World Mental Health Day, Ofosu and Leah talk with Miwa Yasui, PhD, a clinical psychologist and an Associate Professor at the University of Chicago's Crown Family School of Social Work, Policy, and Practice, about her research into how people's backgrounds and geographical locations affect their perception and treatment of mental health. She also discusses how we can support others' mental health journeys—even when our cultures differ. TW: This episode mentions genocide. You can watch the latest episode on YouTube here: https://youtu.be/svQaKyUleYk More about Miwa: Miwa Yasui, PhD, is an Associate Professor at the University of Chicago's Crown Family School of Social Work, Policy, and Practice and a clinical psychologist. Her treatment model—culturally infused engagement—explores how culture influences how people think about mental health. You can learn more about Miwa's work here: https://crownschool.uchicago.edu/crownscholars/m-yasui About Balance: Well Balanced is co-hosted by Ofosu and Leah, Balance's Co-Heads of Meditation. Balance is a highly personalized meditation and sleep app that's been named Google's App of the Year and Apple's App of the Day. Completely free for the entire first year, Balance is helping 3.5 million+ people around the world improve their stress, sleep, focus, and mood. Unlock your free year of Balance today by downloading it from the App Store or Play Store: https://balanceapp.sng.link/Arat1/h3qp/icji

To commemorate 25 years since its 1997 release New York's Japan Society screened Hayao Miyazaki's mystical epic Princess Mononoke on July 22, 2022. Mike spoke with IndieWire's David Ehrlich about the seminal anime film.

To commemorate 25 years since its 1997 release New York's Japan Society screened Hayao Miyazaki's mystical epic Princess Mononoke on July 22, 2022. Mike spoke with IndieWire's David Ehrlich about the seminal anime film.