This translation comes from the book “家康と三方ヶ原：生涯唯一の大敗を読み解く” by Hirayama Yu, and published in 2022 by NHK Publishing.  The book is an examination of the circumstances that led Matsudaira (later Tokugawa) Ieyasu to bet on a battle against the far more formidable forces of Takeda Shingen of Kai province, and how that experience affected Ieyasu’s thinking both in regard to his future strategies and alliances (remembering that Ieyasu was almost killed during the battle, only barely managing to escape with his life. It was one of three such occasions when Ieyasu’s continued existence fell under a cloud, the other two being the Mikawa Ikkō Ikki of 1563-64 and the escape from Iga in 1582).  Chapter one of the book gives a broad outline of how Ieyasu and Shingen came to one another’s attention, and how they would eventually come to blows on an otherwise non-descript plain in Tōtōmi province (modern Shizuoka Prefecture). The translation below picks up the narrative from the beginning of the chapter.
 
Ieyasu’s independence from the Imagawa and first clashes with the Takeda
 
Tokugawa Ieyasu and Takeda Shingen did not start directly corresponding with one another until Eiroku 11 (1568).  Irrespective of whatever this might show about their intentions, it is true to say that Ieyasu did not factor into Shingen’s thinking until around Eiroku 5 (1563).  As is well known, Tokugawa Ieyasu (known as the time as Matsudaira Motoyasu) had been raised in the household of Imagawa Yoshimoto and had been appointed as the lord of Okazaki Castle. Although he resided in Sunpu province, this area had been amalgamated with Mikawa province. Ieyasu had been married to the legitimate daughter of Sekiguchi Ujisumi, one of the Imagawa household’s principal retainers, who went by the name Tsukiyama-dono, and was associated with the Imagawa family’s board of councillors. Unlike the prevailing view about him, Ieyasu was not a hostage of the Imagawa, but was a key member of the Imagawa household responsible for the administration of Mikawa. He could also be said to have been an influential kokushū (or regional landowner or administrator).
 
As Ieyasu had been under the protection of the Imagawa since infancy, the Matsudaira family of Okazaki were also protected by the Imagawa, with the administration of their household seen to by their officials. The Imagawa had appointed the Matsudaira to build the framework for both the politics and military security of Mikawa by placing them on the frontline opposite the Oda family of Owari province. Without the Matsudaira presence, the transformation of Mikawa into part of the Imagawa fiefdom would not have occurred. For the Matsudaira themselves, by being part of the Imagawa’s security network, they were able to achieve a certain degree of prominence. It was in this environment that Ieyasu continued to grow and develop.
 
Meanwhile Imagawa Yoshimoto succeeded in stabilizing his rule over Mikawa. If preparations for an invasion of Owari province proceeded without interruption, as a kokushū level lord there was a strong chance that Ieyasu would have been given permission to return to Okazaki. Yet fate had something else in store for him.  On the 19th of the fifth month of Eiroku 3 (1560) at the Battle of Okehazama, Imagawa Yoshimoto was defeated by Oda Nobunaga and was killed in battle. At the time, Ieyasu was resident at Ōdaka Castle in Owari province on the front line of the conflict. However (after Yoshimoto’s death) he withdrew together with the entire Imagawa army and returned to Okazaki Castle. Under orders from Imagawa Ujizane, after returning to Okazaki Castle Ieyasu immediately became involved in conflict against Mizuno Nobumoto, the lord of Ogawa and Kariya Castles and an uncle to Oda Nobunaga. Ieyasu was just 19 years old at the time.
 
The conflict between Ieyasu and the Oda started in Eiroku 4. In the 4th month of the same year, Oda forces invaded Mikawa under the command of Nobunaga, where they proceeded to seize control of all of Kamo-gun west of the Tomoegawa river. This obviously put Ieyasu in a precarious position.   Both the Matsudaira and Imagawa forces were pressed hard at this time, yet Imagawa Ujizane, currently resident in Sunpu, showed no inclination to send reinforcements to aid them. Ujizane was rather more concerned with dispatching forces in the direction of the Kantō region. At the time, Hōjō Ujiyasu had been steadily building his control over the Kantō. From the 3rd year of Eiroku onwards, he began to be on the receiving end of attacks from Nagao Kagetora of Echigo province (later known as Uesugi Kenshin). 
 
Kagetora, using the authority of the former Kantō Kanrei Uesugi Norimasa, joined together with samurai of the Kantō and former members of the Uesugi household to resist the encroachment on their territory from Hōjō Ujiyasu.  Once Ujiyasu was dealt with, Kagetora could then proceed to seize control of the Kantō region.  Ujiyasu was not one to sit on his hands and straight away made a request for assistance. However assistance for Mikawa was not forthcoming.  Concerned about the impending danger to him, Ieyasu made a truce with Nobunaga, which in turn would lead to an alliance. According to the prevailing view, the role of intermediary for the meeting held in the 2nd month of Eiroku 4 was Nobunaga’s uncle Mizuno Nobumoto (he who had previously been at war with Ieyasu).
 
However the belief that Ieyasu visited Nobunaga at Kiyosu Castle (in Owari province) and there made an alliance with him was a fabrication made up by later generations.  There’s no evidence to confirm that this event ever took place, and Ieyasu certainly had no leeway to suddenly leave Okazaki in order to travel to another province. It’s understood that the alliance came about both through an exchange of documents and the coming and going of messengers. Thereafter, as previously explained, Nobunaga seized control of one part of western Mikawa province. Given that there is no trace of him having clashed with Ieyasu during this process, it is safe to say that the truce and alliance were already in place by this time. 
 
From the 3rd month of Eiroku 4 through to the ‘leap’ 3rd month of the following year, Ieyasu was engaged in subduing the Asuri-shū of Kamo-gun in Mikawa province. In the 4th month, he moved to commence an attack on the Imagawa, launching campaigns against Kira Yoshiaki of Tōjō Castle and Makino Narisada of Ushikubo Castle consecutively.  Imagawa Ujizane recognizing these as hostile acts, described them as “the betrayal of Matsudaira Kurando (a position title ascribed to Ieyasu)” and “Okazaki’s betrayal”, sent out a notice to all that he was now engaged in a full-blown war against Ieyasu.  This also signalled Ieyasu’s complete independence from the Imagawa.
 
The start of relations between Ieyasu and Shingen
 
As far as can be discerned from existing historical records, the first time that Takeda Shingen became aware of Ieyasu was in Eiroku 5 (1563). The impetus for this came from an order from the Muromachi Bakufu shōgun Ashikaga Yoshiteru, instructing Ujizane and Ieyasu to declare a ceasefire.  The war against the Imagawa was referred to by Ieyasu as the ‘Sanshū sakuran’ (or ‘the war of the three provinces’), demonstrating that it had escalated into a widespread civil conflict. Mikawa was divided between Ieyasu and Imagawa supporters, leading to even more fighting. In time it became clear to Ujizane that this revolt would not prove easy to suppress.
 
The shōgun Yoshiteru was at the time concerned about the difficulties faced in communicating with the Kantō region as a result of the conflict, and so issued ceasefire orders to both Ieyasu and Ujizane, along with Mizuno Nobumoto of the Oda camp.  He also issued instructions to Takeda Shingen and Hōjō Ujiyasu, ordering them to make arrangements for a peace treaty between the two warring sides.
 
It was through this process that Ieyasu came to the attention of Shingen, who at the time was in an alliance with the Imagawa and so came to regard Ieyasu as a foe. This in turn led to the formation of the struggle between the ‘Kiyosu alliance’ (of Nobunaga and Ieyasu) and the ‘alliance of Kai, Sunpu and Suruga’ (consisting of Shingen and Ujizane). In Eiroku 5, Ujizane sent out a request to Shingen for assistance in attacking Mikawa province.  Indeed, it does seem that this request might have been issued one year earlier, but as a result of the situation at the time, Ujizane had been unable to launch his campaign until the following year. In the 6th month of Eiroku 5, Ujizane wrote to Shingen, explaining that “I plan to embark on my campaign in Mikawa at the outset of Autumn. I would therefore be most grateful if, as promised, you can combine with my forces at that time as I intend to make full use of your considerable strength”. However in the end Ujizane did not set out on his invasion of Mikawa at the beginning of Autumn.     
 
Indeed it would not be until the 4th month of Eiroku 6 when Ujizane finally showed his stripes.  He imposed what became known as the “Sanshū kyūyō” (a temporary raise in taxes to accompany the invasion of Mikawa). What this did, however, was plunge the Imagawa territories into strife. All those who until then had held a special privilege giving them exemption from the imposition of public taxes (such as on the raising of houses) temporarily had their exemptions revoked and were ordered to pay the compulsory added cost. As a result, groups of disgruntled regional members in the Imagawa territories gathered together to demand a restoration of their exemptions. Ujizane did restore the exemptions for both those directly serving in the campaign as well as shrines and temples that had deep historical ties to the Imagawa family.  All others were forced to make their payments, which were collected in due course.
 
However the collection of the “Sanshū kyūyō’ created the impression within and outside the Imagawa territories that the Imagawa were rushing to launch an invasion of Mikawa. Knowing this, in Mikawa itself Sakai Shōgen Tadayoshi, a key retainer of Ieyasu’s household, laid siege to Ueno Castle up until the 6th month of Eiroku 6, unfurling the banner of revolt in the process. This trend spread throughout the province, leading to the attack against Kira Yoshiaki and Ogasawara Hiroshige at Terabe Castle in Hazu-gun.
 
It was around this time that Ujizane appears to have made his request for support from Shingen to launch an attack against Mikawa.  Shingen accepted Ujizane’s request and immediately sent a message to Akiyama Torashige of Ina-gun in lower Shinano province, instructing him to commence a strategy aimed at forcing the ‘lord of Okazaki’ to withdraw. The Takeda had already managed to secure an informant from inside the Ieyasu camp. In an order sent to Shimojō Nobuuji of the Shinano kokushū (and lord of Yoshioka Castle), Nobuuji was to meet up with messengers sent from the informant and there make arrangements for a secret meeting. In order to prove that Shimojō was acting on behalf of the Takeda and had received the assent of the Imagawa for the meeting to go ahead, Nobuuji was given a letter from Ujizane, which he was to show to anyone who might doubt his credentials. 
 
There has been a lot of speculation about who this informant within the Ieyasu camp might have been.  It may have been Sakai Tadanao of Ueno Castle.  Whatever the case may have been, it was clear that Shingen, together with Ujizane, was now firmly intent on crushing Matsudaira Ieyasu (TBC).    

The following is the personal view of Unakami Tomoaki on the character of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the model for the fictional figure ‘Yoshii Toranaga’ in the FX series ‘Shōgun’.  As you can see, Unakami has some fairly strong views about Ieyasu’s abilities as a general, in contrast to his skills at weaving intrigue. The translation below is from a section of Chapter 4.

From Unakami Tomoaki’s “Hontō wa gokai darake no Sengoku kassen senshi”, Tokkan Shoten, Tokyo, August 2020


Tokugawa Ieyasu was a master of intrigue, but…

In much the same way at Oda Nobunaga, Tokugawa Ieyasu spent the first half of his life seeking to expand his rule. Despite being born as the lord of Okazaki Castle in Mikawa province and the legitimate heir to the Matsudaira family, he had been brought up since infancy as a hostage to both the Oda and the Imagawa families. At the Battle of Okehazama, while Oda Nobunaga was fighting against Imagawa Yoshitomo, Ieyasu was part of the Imagawa army. He was no more than a lad of 19 at the time.
 
When the Imagawa’s power began to decline following the Battle of Okehazama, Ieyasu made the decision to strike out on his own as lord of Okazaki Castle.  It was at this time that he forged an alliance with Oda Nobunaga.  For the next 21 years, until Nobunaga met his end during the Honnōji Incident, that military alliance would continue.
 
The Sengoku-era historian Taniguchi Katsuhiro noted that this alliance took place at a unique time in the Sengoku period, and whose mutual interest would continue for many years (Taniguchi Katsuhiro, “Nobunaga and Ieyasu’s Military Alliance – 21 years of interests and strategy”, Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2019).
 
Opposite the sphere of influence exercised by Imagawa Yoshimoto in Suruga province lay a region contested over by three major powers, namely the Hōjō, Takeda, and Uesugi families. Suruga province bordered these lands, and would eventually be amalgamated with Mikawa province. Owari province would see daily clashes over its border area. After Suruga lost its principal source of authority, a newly freed Ieyasu was able to start building a small power base in Mikawa. Meanwhile Nobunaga, in order to protect himself from the direct threat Takeda Shingen of Kai province presented to Owari province, realised that he needed Mikawa as a buffer zone.
 
For Ieyasu, he too wanted to receive aid from Nobunaga to both preserve his independence and prevent himself from once again being sucked into a power struggle against formidable opponents. Ieyasu made good use of his alliance with Nobunaga, and following the deaths of Nobunaga and Hideyoshi, he deposed their heirs and built the foundations for an era of peace that lasted some 260 years. 
 
Despite all of this, Ieyasu was something of a military dunce. One thing that stands out in particular with regard to this is the epic Battle of Sekigahara that decided the fate of the nation.  If you take a look at the disposition of the Eastern Army on the eve of the battle, such was Ieyasu’s lack of military skill that it is a wonder that the Western Army was not victorious. In much the same way as Nobunaga, Ieyasu suffered defeat on the battlefield time and time again. 
 
What Ieyasu excelled at was intrigue.  While Nobunaga may have possessed a genius for revolutionary thinking, and of the three great unifiers it was Hideyoshi that was most capable militarily, Ieyasu was the strategist.  He was also extraordinarily cautious. He had learned a lot at the hands of Takeda Shingen of Kai, who had always presented the greatest threat to Mikawa. His experience living as a hostage also meant that he had taken exercising a high degree of caution to heart. Two apocryphal tales that left an impression on me in this regard are the tale of the out of season peaches and the crossing of the Marukibashi bridge.     
 
When Ieyasu was still a young man, Nobunaga sent some peaches to him. Under the old calendar this occurred in ‘Shimotsuki’, which in the modern calendar corresponds to December. While his retainers were perplexed as to how such a thing could have happened, and what sort of technology had been used to make it happen, Ieyasu pondered why Nobunaga had sent the peaches in the first place, and thinking that they might have a detrimental effect on his health, chose to give all of the peaches to his retainers. Hearing of this, Takeda Shingen offered his assessment, thinking “This is an individual that goes to great lengths to preserve his health. He prioritises his metabolism, and it appears that he won’t eat anything unnecessarily” (as recorded in the ‘Hisakankin’, a compilation of apocryphal tales about Tokugawa Ieyasu, edited by the Zenkoku Tōshōgu Rengōkai, published 1997). Shingen, who as a student of Sun Tzu had been able to correctly deduce Nobunaga’s nature, realised that far from being a dull and introverted soul, Ieyasu was in fact bursting with ambition.
 
Ieyasu was also known as a fine practitioner of the Ōtsubo school of horsemanship. However when attempting to cross a bridge spanning a river during the attack on Odawara during the Tenshō period, he deliberately got off his horse and crossed the river while being carried on the back of one of his retainers.  Ieyasu hadn’t learned horsemanship in order to show off in front of others, but rather to allow him to escape from the battlefield and live to fight again. Hence he had no need for any adventures, which does make for rather a dull story (from the Jyōzan Kidan and Bushō Kanjyōki published by Hakubunkan in 1929).    
 
Ieyasu’s high degree of caution made it impossible for him to achieve great deeds, but he possessed an extraordinary ability to wield intrigue.  Figures such as Mōri Motonari, Hōjō Sōun, and to some extent (Hōjō) Ujiyasu were generals of the strategic type, prepared to put up with hardship for a while waiting for their chance to strike.  Once their chance came they would move with lightening speed, but in the interim they would act cautiously, biding their time and building their resources. Ieyasu had the special patience of the strategist, and disliked embarking on adventures that would yield no rewards.  It was impossible for him to understand why anyone would act purely out of desire to provoke a response. He was also far more concerned about his health than the ordinary person.  His way of thinking, in which living a long life was what divided up life’s winners from its losers, was in contrast to Nobunaga and his idea that “life is but 50 years long”.      

The recent success of the FX/Disney series ‘Shōgun’, based on the novel published in the mid-1970s by James Clavell (an Australian-born British-American writer, whose life deserves a show of its own) has ignited interest around the world in the period of Japanese history depicted in the show and some of its main characters.  While Clavell’s novel is ostensibly a work of fiction, the characters that appear in it were certainly based on real individuals from sixteenth century Japan. Not least of these was the inspiration for the character of Toda Mariko, otherwise known as Hosokawa Gracia.
 
While there is a great amount of literature available that dramatizes the life of Hosokawa Gracia, the reality of her life was every bit as dramatic and tragic as depicted in fiction. Born into a world still in the throes of turmoil, she did what she could to survive, often to her own detriment. Yet she endured unimaginable hardship, until the circumstances of her marriage and the looming showdown between the forces of Tokugawa Ieyasu and Ishida Mitsunari forced her hand and resulted in her death. But what were her origins? Where did she come from, and how did the first half of her life come to play such a pivotal role in dictating her ultimate fate?
 
To answer some of these questions, I have taken the liberty of translating some of the early chapters of Ahn Jungwon’s book on Hosokawa Gracia. This is one of the most straight-forward works examining her life and legacy, and lays out the basic information on her origins in a manner that the general reader can easily comprehend. For the English reader, some of the format used by Ahn might seem a bit disjointed, with certain sections being repeated and new subjects introduced in the middle of a single paragraph. This is one of the unique characteristics of Japanese historical writing and so one can only ask for the reader’s patience and understanding if transitions can seem somewhat jarring from time to time.  
 
Hosokawa Gracia by Ahn Jungwon. Chuō Kōron Shinsha Publishing. October 2016.
 
Introduction
 
Hosokawa Gracia; a Christian woman of the Sengoku era (b. 1563 – d. 1600)
 
A famous woman, who took the name Gracia following her baptism into the Christian faith, replacing her original name of Tama(ko). Born a child of Akechi Mitsuhide (b.1528 – d.1582), one of the principal retainers to Oda Nobunaga (b.1538 – d.1582), she would go on to be betrothed to Hosokawa Tadaoki (b.1563 – d.1646).  In the weeks before the Battle of Sekigahara, her residence would be surrounded by the forces of her rival Ishida Mitsunari (1560 – 1600), and rather than being taken hostage, she would meet her end in dramatic fashion.
 
The baptismal name of Gracia was unique even for that time.  The key to understanding it lies in her original name. She was once known as Tama (ko), with the character ‘tama’ meaning ‘jewel’, or a thing of great value. This sound also resembled the word ‘tamamono’, meaning a gift or a blessing. Moreover, the name ‘Gracia’ resembles that of the Latin word ‘gratia’, meaning to give thanks or receive favour. Hence her baptismal name is believed to have been a liberal translation of her birth name.
 
She would ordinarily have been referred to as Akechi Tama(ko). However given that she is better known by the name ‘Hosokawa Gracia’, for the sake of convenience that is what she will be referred to throughout the course of this book.
 
The name Hosokawa Gracia has two particular characteristics. The first highlights her conversion to Christianity after marrying Hosokawa Tadaoki, the son of Hosokawa Fujitaka (b.1534 – d.1610, posthumously known as Yūsai), thus joining the Hosokawa household. Following her baptism, there was a possibility that she would divorce Tadaoki. While it said that she could not divorce because she had converted to Christianity, the truth is that the Catholic Church at the time had provisions that would allow for divorce. However Gracia’s case did not merit their implementation. It is quite possible that had her marriage been allowed to be annulled, she might not have met such a tragic end.  Yet the very fact that she was the wife of Tadaoki proved to be the catalyst that would ultimately decide her fate.
 
‘Marriage’ was thus the key element that tied her Christian faith together with her tragic end. I myself specialise in the examination of marital problems involving the Catholic Church in sixteenth and seventeenth century Japan and China.  What impact did Catholic doctrine have in new missionary lands, and what sort of friction did they cause? And as for issues concerning values held in those missionary lands and rivalry from other faiths, what methods did missionaries apply to try and resolve them? All of these questions can be drawn from the historical records left by European missionaries, starting with the Jesuits.
 
Gracia presents a particularly fascinating case amid the historical record of Christianity in Japan.  Through my research into marital issues, it may be possible to comprehend Gracia’s life. This book is thus the culmination of my interest in this subject. By examining the details of historical records left by missionaries as they relate to Gracia’s death, I believe I can shine some light on some heretofore little explored aspects of Gracia’s life.
 
Most studies of Gracia up until now have relied heavily on the theories expounded by Sophia University Professor Father Johannes Laures (b.1891 – d. 1959). In Laures’ view, since Gracia was a Christian, she was forbidden from taking her own life and so had a retainer of the Hosokawa family put her to death (Johannes Laures, “Life of Hosokawa Gracia”, Chuō Publishing, 1958). Father Laures’ theory about Gracia’s suicide would come to dominate the field in time. Yet can the mystery surrounding her death be so easily and conveniently explained?  
 
Why type of martyrdom did Gracia choose to accept? Did she do so in accordance with a warrior code, obeying an order given by her husband Tadaoki? Or was her death more in keeping with Christian doctrine? Why would she have someone else put her to death if she was capable of committing suicide herself? The records of the Jesuit missionary Gnecchi Soldo Organtino (b. 1533 – d. 1609) describe a conversation that he maintained with Gracia at a time of heightened tension and danger and how best to respond to it.  What sort of response did he make to her? We must also not overlook the question of how the Catholic Church reacted to Gracia’s death. Did she in fact die by suicide, and if she didn’t, can we still claim that she was martyred?
 
The number of historical documents related to Gracia are limited and it would be true to say that the possibility of new material being discovered that completely changes our understanding of her life is fairly low.  Nevertheless, it has now been more than half a century since Laures wrote his book, and studies into Christianity in Japan have developed in new directions. It has therefore become possible to re-examine aspects of her life by revisiting Christian historical records. This book is an attempt to look at Christian history from the ‘outside’, and re-examine Gracia’s life from the two aspects of ‘marriage’ and ‘death’.  
 
Chapter One – A Political Marriage and the Honnōji Incident
                             Born the daughter of Akechi Mitsuhide
 

1.  Scenery that Gracia saw

            Exiled to the mountains of Tango province
 
After her marriage to Hosokawa Tadaoki, Hosokawa Gracia entered the Hosokawa household, located at the time between Miyazu castle in Tango province (now part of Kyoto Prefecture) and Osaka. After arriving, she rarely ventured out again.  Both regions are in some way associated with Gracia, but little of her presence remains. Nonetheless, there was one place that was extraordinarily difficult for Gracia to forget.
 
In Tenshō 10 (1582), Gracia’s father Akechi Mitsuhide slew Oda Nobunaga in the Honnōji Incident, thus making Gracia the daughter of a turncoat and traitor. The Hosokawa family, under the pretext this provided, cut their ties with Gracia and sent her to a place located deep in the mountains. In this place known as ‘Midono’, Gracia spent the next two years of her life.  The view that greeted Gracia at that place in the mountains is almost the same today.  Midono is located within the mountains of Yasaka town, itself part of Kyotango City. We can use the sources to trace the peculiar circumstances that led Gracia to wind up at this location. 
 
The ”Record of the Hosokawa Household” (Hosokawa Kaki) states that the place that Gracia was sent into exile was “Midono, located in the mountains of Tanba’, while another source stated that it went “by the name of Uetomura in Tango province”. The poet Aoi Sōgo, in his book “Hosokawa Tadaoki” (published Shōwa 11 (1936) put the location of this alternative site at 2 ri (or 7.85km) north-west of the Kyoto (or capital) region. When the Chancellor of Sophia University and Jesuit Father Hermann Heuvers (b. 1890 – d. 1977) visited this alternative site many years later, he believed that it could never have served as a hideaway. Furthermore, none of the people living there had any idea who Hosokawa Gracia was. Not only had it never served as territory belonging to the Hosokawa family, it was also located far too close to Kyoto.
 
The novelist Morita Sōhei, when researching for his book “Hosokawa Gracia”, wrote in an essay for the Yomiuri Shimbun on 23 May, Shōwa 10 (1935) that when visiting Miyazu, he heard from a local reporter born in Nomamura village in Yosa-gun (close to Miyazu City) of a local legend of Tadaoki and his wife making their way to a local place, the details of this legend having been passed down throughout the surrounding area. The location of this place was ‘Midono’ in the mountains of Tango province. When Father Heuvers later made his own visit to the same area in August of 1935, he thought it to be an ideal location for a hideaway and was convinced that it must have served as Gracia’s secret residence. Moreover, local legends corresponded with what historical facts were known about Gracia’s life. In 1936, the Hosokawa family would purchase the land and erect a memorial stone to Gracia on it.
 
Midono today is a place deep within the mountains where people are exceedingly scarce.  It features steep mountain sides, and there is a tale that says that 400 years before Gracia made her way to the same valley, members of the Heike family defeated at the Battle of Dan-no-Ura developed the area for settlement.  Today, there is a road from Mineyama that connects with Midono, and which passes along the cliff edges of the deep valleys therein. When I visited the site in Autumn, I was told by a local driver who also served as a guide that in winter, the area receives around 2 metres of snow, thus making life there particularly difficult. There are only a few scattered dwellings in the vicinity. And yet it is this place, which exists almost as an inland island, that contains the remnants of Gracia’s hideaway.                 
‘Hidden’ rather than ‘cut off’
 
On a small hill located in the mountains lies a flat plain only some 60 metres in diameter. This hill is variously known as “the woman’s castle”, “the palace”, and “Osaki’s hill”.  It also features a memorial stone with the inscription “the secret residence of Hosokawa Tadaoki”.  A stone enclosure built around the memorial stone had apparently been visited by a group from Kyushu some days earlier, and there were still relatively fresh flowers and food offerings placed around it.  Apparently visitors from Kyushu visit the area every spring and summer. Which makes sense, given that it would be impossible to do so in winter. Down in the valley and separate from the ‘woman’s castle’ is another flat area known as the ‘man’s castle’.  It is said that this was the residence of those warriors from the Hosokawa household tasked with protecting Gracia.
 
Legend has it that Gracia, after arriving in Miyazu Bay by boat, travelled by road over the mountains until she arrived at Midono. Tabata Yasuko postulates that Gracia travelled by boat from Miyazu to Hioki, then by road from Hioki until she reached Komakura, and then travelled over the mountains to Midono. Tabata also speculates that Midono had once been the territory of the Akechi family. In his ‘History of Japan’, the Jesuit priest Luis Frois states that Akechi Mitsuhide possessed territory in Tango province, hence it is quite possible that this was the case. Midono itself is not that far from Miyazu City and is surrounded by steep mountains, thus making it quite well suited to serve as a hideaway. However its elevation is not that high, around 600 metres above sea level at most. What it suggests is that the Hosokawa family did not intend to cut off and abandon Gracia there, but rather keep her presence a secret.   
 
I was moved to wonder what Gracia would have thought looking out over the mountains from her residence within the “woman’s castle”.  Her entire family had been eliminated as a result of her father’s betrayal.  She herself had been cut off from her adopted family, separated from her children, all while her husband’s concubines had taken her place.  This was not the result of something she herself had done, and there must have been times when she thought “why on earth has this happened to me?”.  At the time, it would have been considered only proper for the daughter of someone whose conspiracy had slain the ruler of the land to also be put to death.  
 
Gracia herself must have felt from time to time that she could not easily return to the Hosokawa household, and that she was to a certain degree prepared to accept her fate. She may have felt that life itself was no longer worth living. Conversely, by going to Midono while still pregnant and giving birth there, she may have found a reason to keep living for the sake of her newborn child.  Perhaps she thought too much about the past while protected in her mountain hideaway. While she might have been able to return to the Hosokawa household early, she may have been anxious that those powers assembled in Osaka (namely Toyotomi Hideyoshi) would give her a particularly hard time.
 
Regarded as the daughter of a traitor, subject to her husband’s unusually strict discipline, and forced to live something like a hermit, it is no wonder that she would eventually seek solace in the Christian faith.
 
During her lifetime, the circumstances surrounding the rulers of the country underwent profound change. Her marriage had been decided by Oda Nobunaga. After his death as a result of her father’s betrayal, she was cut off by her adopted family and sent to Midono. She would then be recalled by the next ruler of the realm Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and because of her husband’s association with Tokugawa Ieyasu, she would be condemned to die.  Despite having never met them, having no family ties to them, and virtually nothing in common with them, the rulers of the realm (Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Tokugawa Ieyasu) would all in some way contribute to the sudden dramatic changes in her life.
 
II  Marriage to the Hosokawa family
 
We must begin by talking about the first ruler of the realm to decide Gracia’s fate.
 
In Eiroku 3 (1560), Oda Nobunaga defeated the army of Imagawa Yoshimoto at the Battle of Okehazama following Imagawa’s invasion of Owari province from Suruga and Tōtōmi provinces.  This allowed Nobunaga to gain control over Owari from the Imagawa and liberate Matsudaira Motoyasu (afterwards known as Tokugawa Ieyasu), who had been a hostage of the Imagawa up until this time. Motoyasu then returned to his home province of Mikawa.  In Eiroku 5, Motoyasu visited Nobunaga at his castle at Kiyosu, whereupon Nobunaga’s daughter Gotoku was married to Motoyasu’s eldest son Nobuyasu. Motoyasu then severed all ties to the Imagawa family and changed his name to Ieyasu.
 
Meanwhile Nobunaga continued with his invasion of Minō province and fought against the Saitō family, who were rulers of Minō at the time. In Eiroku 4, Saitō Yoshitatsu died suddenly and was succeeded by his son, Tatsuoki.  To ensure the success of his invasion of Minō, Nobunaga moved his base from Komakiyama and attacked his cousin Oda Nobukiyo at Inuyama castle.  This victory united Owari under Nobunaga’s rule.  In the same year, Nagao Kagetora of Echigo province invaded Odawara, which was under the control of the Hōjō family.  Having defeated the Hōjō, Kagetora seized the official post of Kantō Kanrei from the Hōjō and changed his name to Uesugi Kenshin.  Kenshin would go on to fight a series of battles against Takeda Shingen of Kai province, during which time Nobunaga maintained an alliance with Kenshin.  Thereafter an adopted daughter of Nobunaga would be married to Shingen’s son, Katsuyori. 
 
It took Nobunaga 10 years to complete his takeover of Minō province.  Having done so, he began to embark upon an ambition to unite the country under his rule.  In the same year (Eiroku 4), Nobunaga changed the name of Inoguchi in Minō province to Gifu and made that his home base. He also began to use the insignia “Tenka Fubu’ (consisting of four characters, meaning ‘all under heaven, both civil/learned and military’). It was around this time, in Eiroku 6 (1563), that Gracia was born.  At the time, her father, Akechi Mitsuhide, was not yet in the service of Nobunaga.  It was while Nobunaga was in the process of expanding his control over Minō that he came into contact with Mitsuhide. As Nobunaga planned to take control of the capital (at Kyoto), Mitsuhide decided to swear fealty to him. As a retainer, Mitsuhide rose to prominence, which would have a significant influence of Gracia’s upbringing.  
 
Gracia’s birth
 
When speaking of Akechi Mitsuhide, the image that first comes to mind is that of a conspirator and traitor who caused the death of his lord Oda Nobunaga in the Honnōji Incident.  However, despite being one of the main retainers of Nobunaga, very few historical records detailing the life of Mitsuhide and written at the same time that he lived have survived. Mitsuhide’s life has, however, been subject to legend, such as the “Akechi Gunki” (Military Record of the Akechi Family). This is a compilation of various tales about Mitsuhide’s military exploits and was made almost a century after his death. Hence it’s not considered reliable as an historical source.
 
The historical record of the Hosokawa family, known as the “Hosokawa Kaki” (or Menkō Shūroku) does contain some entries in relation to Gracia’s father, Mitsuhide. However these were primarily written by later generations, and appear to have been edited based on the ‘Akechi Gunki’. Thus they cannot be taken at face value.  As for Mitsuhide himself, his family were thought to be branch of the Toki clan, with Mitsuhide being the child of the ruler of Akechi castle in Minō province.
 
Mitsuhide himself had been able to transcend his origins, for he most certainly spent his youth in relative poverty. Luis Frois in his “History of Japan” wrote that “he (Mitsuhide) was not of high birth”.  At some undetermined point, Mitsuhide most certainly entered into the service of Asakura Yoshikage (b.1533 – d.1573) of Echizen province.  Gracia was born in Eiroku 6 (1563) in Echizen province. Her mother is believed to have been Hiroko, the daughter of Tsumaki Norihiro.  The ‘Akechi Gunki’  states that she was “well known as an intelligent woman’. It also states that she gave birth to all of Gracia’s siblings.
 
As for Mitsuhide’s daughters, the “Hosokawa Kaki” says that he had at least 3 daughters, and that Gracia was either the third daughter or possibly came after that. The “Akechi Gunki”  says that Gracia was the third of four daughters, and that after the four daughters were born, Mitsuhide would go on to have three sons.  There are also theories that Mitsuhide had 5 daughters. Following the Battle of Yamazaki (Tenshō 10), in which Mitsuhide was defeated by Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Mitsuhide’s cousin Akechi Hidemitsu (also known as Mitsuharu), having heard of Mitsuhide’s defeat, set fire to Mitsuhide’s castle at Sakamoto while the entire Mitsuhide clan committed suicide, including Gracia’s mother.
 
When Gracia was born, her father was in the service of the Asakura family of Echizen province. In his youth, Mitsuhide has been relatively poor, but by the time Gracia was born, he had earned Nobunaga’s trust and was gradually making his way up in the world. It is believed that Gracia had a relatively happy childhood and grew up in a well-off household.  When she was nine years old, Nobunaga appointed Mitsuhide as ruler over Sakamoto in Ōmi province, whereupon he set about building a castle.   
 
Akechi Mitsuhide and Hosokawa Fujitaka
 
Gracia’s future father-in-law, Hosokawa Fujitaka, was born in Kyoto as the second son to Mitsubuchi Harukazu, a confidant of the then shōgun Ashikaga Yoshiharu.  His mother was the daughter of Kiyohara Nobukata. The Kiyohara family were known as practitioners of Shintō, however Nobukata himself was a Confucianist. Fujitaka would in time obey a directive from Ashikaga Yoshiharu to become the adopted son of Hosokawa Mototsune.  In Tenbun 15 (1546), he would be granted the use of the character for ‘fuji’ (wisteria) from Shōgun Ashikaga Yoshiteru and take the name “Fujitaka”.
 
As both a youth and proficient in the art of poetry, Fujitaka would receive instruction from the aristocrat Sanjō Nishisanuki in both the classic and modern styles of poetry. At the time of the Battle of Sekigahara (1600), he and Onogi Shigetsugu, the lord of Fukuchiyama castle, were surrounded by the forces of the Western army (led by Ishida Mitsunari) in Tabe castle.  When it became clear that the downfall of the castle was only a matter of time, the Emperor Goyōsei, despairing that a source of poetry was about to be extinguished, issued a decree calling for both a truce and for the siege of the castle to be lifted, which is what eventually occurred.    
 
The instruction that Fujitaka had received in the classic poetry style thus appears to have saved his life.  While Fujitaka was known at the time as a person of culture, he also had a long-standing affinity with the martial arts.  He studied sword play under Tsukahara Bokuden and archery from Houkabe Sadahiro. In later years following the Honnōji Incident, he would join the priesthood and take the name Yūsai. His decision to take the tonsure was apparently so he could refuse a request for assistance from Mitsuhide, and was certainly made in haste.
 
In Eiroku 8 (1565), the thirteenth Shōgun Ashikaga Yoshiteru was suddenly attacked by Matsunaga Hisahide at Nijō palace. He attempted to resist but was ultimately overwhelmed, with the event becoming known as the Eiroku Incident.  In its aftermath, Fujitaka managed to convince the priest Ichijōin Kakukei to leave the clergy and return to the secular world. This priest would in turn be known as the fifteenth shogun Ashikaga Yoshiaki. 
 
When Yoshiaki paid a visit to the territory belonging to the Asakura family in Echizen province, Mitsuhide got to know Fujitaka, given Fujitaka was a retainer in Yoshiaki’s service at the time. After meeting Fujitaka, Mitsuhide, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear, decided to leave the service of (Asakura) Yoshikage and work as a retainer to Nobunaga. In the eleventh month of Eiroku 11 (1568), Mitsuhide participated in a poetry recital together with Fujitaka. Together with Fujitaka, he was expected to become a liaison between Nobunaga and Ashikaga Yoshiaki.  Thereafter, as a senior retainer of Nobunaga, Mitsuhide was granted territory in Shiga-gun in Ōmi province and Tango province. These would become the sites for Sakamoto castle, now found in Ōtsu City in Shiga Prefecture, and Kameyama castle in Tango province.
 
According to Taniguchi Katsuhiro, Mitsuhide entered into Nobunaga’s service in Eiroku 11 (1568), just before Nobunaga made his first entrance into the capital. When Ashikaga Yoshiaki made a request to Nobunaga to move from Asakura-controlled Echizen to Gifu castle in Minō province, Fujitaka and Mitsuhide did everything in their power to facilitate this. Both reported to Nobunaga that Yoshiaki had entered the capital in the ninth month of the same year, with both retainers accompanying him.  In the tenth month of the same year, Yoshiaki was appointed to the position of shōgun.
 
Yoshiaki began to harbour resentment against Nobunaga’s ambitions and proceeded to organize political resistance to him, which in time would turn into full-blown conflict. Fujitaka decided then and there to forsake his ties to Yoshiaki and throw in his lot with Nobunaga, swearing fealty to Nobunaga in the fourth year of Genki (the first year of Tenshō, or 1573). Ultimately Yoshiaki would be driven out of Kyoto by Nobunaga, while Fujitaka would commence his service as a retainer to Nobunaga.   
 
According to Tabata Yasuko, Fujitaka and Mitsuhide shared a close relationship ever since they had met while providing service to Yoshiaki. After later becoming retainers of Nobunaga, they endeavoured to help one another. When both of them were later tasked with pacifying Tanba and Tango provinces, both Fujitaka and his son would cooperate with Mitsuhide, regarding him as their leader.  In Tenshō 7, following the pacification of Tanba and Tango, Mitsuhide was granted territory in Tanba while Fujitaka secured lands in Tango. Thereafter Mitsuhide would continue to be promoted to the position of military leader of the Kinnai region. Just before that, in Tenshō 6 (1578), Mitsuhide’s daughter Gracia married Fujitaka’s son Tadaoki on the orders of Nobunaga, thereby solidifying the relationship between both households.  
 
Gracia’s Marriage
 
So Gracia’s marriage was organized on the orders of her father’s lord, Nobunaga. Nobunaga himself made strategic use of his birth daughters and adopted daughters to strengthen his feudal ties, yet he was also very actively involved in forging the marital relationships of his retainers. In the first month of Tenshō 2 (1574), Nobunaga held a council of his most senior generals at Gifu castle. While there, he issued an order that Mitsuhide and Fujitaka should strengthen their familial relationship.  In the eighth month of Tenshō 6 (1578), upon his arrival at Azuchi castle in Ōmi province (Nobunaga’s new base founded in Tenshō 4 (1576), Fujitaka reported to Nobunaga on the marital arrangements made for his son, Tadaoki.  While this marriage had been forged on the orders of Nobunaga, it is entirely plausible that both the Akechi and Hosokawa families were quite pleased that their bonds had been strengthened in this way. And so Gracia was married to Tadaoki in the same month.
 
The marriage ceremony took place at the main stronghold of the Hosokawa family in Yamashiro province, at Seiryūji castle.  Both Gracia and Tadaoki were sixteen years old at the time. As was customary for military marriages during the Sengoku era, a palanquin was prepared to receive the bride. Retainers from both households then took their place on either side of the palanquin. First members of the Akechi household accompanied Gracia as far as the Hosokawa stronghold, whereupon they transferred the palanquin into the care of the Hosokawa. Following the wedding ceremony, both Gracia and Tadaoki continued to live at Seiryūji. In the following year (1579), their eldest daughter Chō was born, followed in 1580 by their eldest son Tadataka.  Until Fujitaka and Tadaoki both moved to Hachimanyama castle in Tango province in the eighth month of 1580, Gracia would spend roughly two years living at Seiryūji.    

Anyone taking the Kintetsu train line from Nagoya down to Tsu or Ise in Mie Prefecture will eventually come to a series of railway bridges spanning a series of wide rivers. These rivers, the banks of which are either covered in grass or have been converted into exercise paths and playing grounds, are the Kiso, Nagara, and Ibi, all of which flow down from the north, from Shiga, Fukui and Ishikawa Prefectures. Today these rivers are fairly non-descript bodies of water, the islands in-between them dotted with houses, small-scale factories, as well as a sports complex and an amusement park. 
 
Yet more than 400 years ago, this relatively benign, peaceful landscape was the scene of horror.






What took place there was, in many ways, the culmination of a campaign that the sixteenth century warlord Oda Nobunaga had waged against the religious power of Ishiyama Honganji for over a decade. 
 
Having managed to escape encirclement by a myriad of forces arranged against him (those forces aided to a significant degree by the machinations of the last Ashikaga shogun, Ashikaga Yoshiaki), Nobunaga used his considerable military and economic power to gradually eliminate all those who stood against his rule in central Japan – both secular and religious alike.  Foremost among these, with a following numbering in the hundreds of thousands (some theories putting it into the millions), was Ishiyama Honganji.
 
Honganji had arisen from a fairly minor sect of the Jōdō faith around the Kyoto region in the fourteenth century.  Through the activities of its second leader, Rennyō, and his offspring (the Jōdō Shinshū sect having allowed its priests to marry), the influence of the sect gradually grew throughout central, eastern and western Japan until it became the most prevalent Buddhist sect in the entire nation.  This influence, coupled with a concurrent growth in wealth and secular power, made Honganji a rival to the many military and aristocratic families that had traditionally exercised control over territory and administrative positions.
 
The fact that Honganji was able to manipulate the faith of its followers to engage in military conflict against its enemies made it a dangerous opponent for any ambitious daimyō attempting to unite the country under his rule. Yet this is precisely the situation that Oda Nobunaga found himself in at the outset of the 1570s. While campaigning against the Asai and Asakura families of Ōmi province, time and again Nobunaga had found himself having to put down uprisings (or ikki) inspired by followers of the Honganji faith (also known as the Monto).
The continued threat presented by the Honganji Monto to Nobunaga’s plans meant that they had to be dealt with in a far more brutal manner than was considered the norm in an already brutal age (by this time, the central provinces of Japan had been the scene of conflict for over a century).  The fact that many of the Monto were of common stock, peasants and tradespeople, led by lower level samurai known as jizamurai, no doubt played a role in informing the methods Nobunaga deployed against them.
 
The following chapter translation comes from the historical novel “Leon Ujisato” by Abe Ryūtarō. The novel ostensibly tells the tale of Gamō Ujisato, a retainer of Nobunaga from　Ōmi province who would eventually become lord of Aizu province and convert to Christianity, taking the Christian name of ‘Leon’. Without doubt, Ujisato bore witness to many battles and sieges while in Nobunaga’s service, the brutality of the fighting and their tragic aftermath going some way in influencing his decision to convert and become a student of the famous tea master Sen Rikyū.
 
All this lay in the future, however. In 1574 Ujisato was part of Nobunaga’s forces preparing to invade Ise province to eliminate the Honganji threat present there in the form of the Monto at Nagashima. It is at this point that the story commences.   
 
Before launching into the translation, I should warn readers that it does describe some fairly horrific acts committed against the Monto. Readers are advised to use their own discretion.     
 
“Leon Ujisato” by Abe Ryūtarō
 
Extract from Chapter Six - Tragedy
 
With the defeat of the Asai, Asakura, and Rokkaku families and the destruction of Enryakuji, Takeda Katsuyori of Kai province and the religious institution of Osaka Honganji were all that was left of the ‘net’ that had been cast to encircle Oda Nobunaga.
 
The Ikkō Ikki, which rose in revolt under the authority of directives from Honganji, still retained a considerable degree of power, made up as it was of low-level retainers and rural samurai drawn together from various regions.  Among these, it was the Ikki forces gathered at Nagashima in Ise province (modern Mie Prefecture) that presented the greatest threat.
 
Ise Nagashima is an estuary at the point at which the Kiso, Nagara, and Ibi rivers flow into Ise Bay. Since time immemorial, people living in the area had depended on boats for their livelihood, with most affiliated with the river and sea transport industries. For the Oda family, whose authority in the region centred on Tsushima island in the lower Kiso river, they had  maintained good relations with the people of the area in order to firm up their control over transport on Ise Bay. 
 
However following the call from Honganji to raise forces in opposition to the armies of Nobunaga, the region would be transformed into a battleground punctuated by utterly merciless fighting.    
 
The emergence of this formidable enemy began in the fourth month of Tenshō 2 (1574).  Ikki forces from Echizen, Ōmi, Kawachi and Kishū began to gather together, ultimately forming an army of some 50,000 followers.  Among the various forces, the contingent from Kishū were by far the strongest, with many members drawn from the musket companies maintained by the Negoro and Saika (Saiga) Monto (or group of followers).
 
Saika is a part of the Kinai region of central Japan and had long been subject to Nobunaga’s trade controls.  The Ikki forces there relied on their boats to make a living, and were known to trade with Awa Island, Tosa and Satsuma provinces, and as far as the Kingdom of Ryūkyū (Okinawa) where they bought up large quantities of saltpetre and lead.  They then sold this to the forces of the Takeda in Kai and the Hōjō in the Kantō region of eastern Japan, making themselves very wealthy in the process. 
 
“If we don’t fight them now, it will have grave consequences for us”. So recommended Takigawa Kazumasu, who had been appointed as overseer of the northern Ise region by the Oda. And yet Nobunaga made no attempt to move against the Ikki.
 
The reason for this was not purely the Ikki’s own doing.  By drawing the Oda forces into Nagashima, Takeda Katsuyori would be able to strike Nobunaga in the back. Examining the situation and its potential outcome, on the fifth day of the sixth month of Tenshō 2, Tokugawa Ieyasu sent an urgent message to Nobunaga from his base in Hamamatsu. “At present, around 20,000 Takeda personnel have surrounded Takatenjin castle”.
 
Ieyasu well knew that he would not be able to fend off such a large army with his forces alone, and so had asked for assistance from Nobunaga in the form of troops.
 
To this, Nobunaga grinned smugly to himself, thinking “The fool. It makes it look as though we can’t wait them out.”
 
To be sure, there were no provisions available in Ise Nagashima to support a 50,000 strong army. For the Ikki force, which would have no choice but to send its reinforcements back to where they came from, having Katsuyori launch an attack on Takatenjin castle would thus provide a welcome distraction.
 
“Tell him that we’re coming, and not to start anything until we get there”
 
This is what Nobunaga told Ieyasu’s messenger. However Nobunaga himself did not leave Gifu until the 14th of the sixth month.  Such was the slow pace at which the army advanced  that it did not reach Lake Hamana until the 19th, by which time Nobunaga was informed that Takatenjin castle had fallen into Katsuyori’s hands. 
 
It was behaviour very out of character for the normally fleet footed Nobunaga. However so  concerned was Nobunaga about being attacked in the rear by the Nagashima Ikki that he took every precaution possible.
 
After meeting with Ieyasu at Yoshida castle, Nobunaga explained the situation. As compensation for allowing the loss of Takatenjin castle, he handed over to Ieyasu two sacks filled with gold bullion. According to the “Shinchō Kōki” (Official Record of Nobunaga), each sack was so heavy it took two people to lift them.
 
Having thus placated Ieyasu, Nobunaga made preparations to head back to Mikawa. Just before riding off, he addressed Ieyasu, saying “take that gold and put a stop to the Takeda advance west”. Having thus dealt with one issue, from the 13th of the seventh month Nobunaga would begin his campaign against Ise Nagashima. Drawing together a huge army of roughly 100,000 troops from the provinces of Mino, Owari, Ise, and Ōmi, Nobunaga made his preparations for a final showdown with the Ikki force.
 
Gamō Ujisato (who at the time went by the name of Chūsaburō) and Shibata Katsuie led a contingent of mounted troops to the front. The Shibata force would be tasked with seizing the castle of Ōtorii, located at Katori in the northwest of Nagashima, one of five castles controlled by the Ikki force.
 
This presented an ideal opportunity. Chūsaburō was a keen student of Nobunaga’s tactics, and together with Wada Sanzemon and Hino Yajirō Gorō climbed up Mt. Tado. From the peak of the mountain, 400 metres above sea level, Chūsaburō was able to grasp the layout of the land in front of him at a glance.
 
The Kiso, Nagara, and Ibi rivers all converge at the point that the rivers meet the sea in the south, forming a wide river almost like a sea itself and which rolls on into Ise Bay. At the centre of the river’s mouth is a long island stretching out to the north-west by the name of Nagashima, while the west bank consists of three islands known as Ōtorii, Okunagashima, and Nakae.  This is where the Ikki force had constructed five castles.  The sides of the castles were protected by dual palisades which also permitted boats to enter and leave as necessary. The castles were also mutually reinforcing, allowing nothing to slip through without a challenge. They were, in other words, sea-borne castles that would prove very difficult to assault.
 
The Oda force, confronting this problem, decided to lay siege to the castles from four directions at once and arranged their camp accordingly.  In the north-east Nobunaga made his camp at Hayao, while in the east at Ichie lay Nobutada. At Katori in the north-west lay the forces of Sakuma Nobumori and Shibata Katsuie, while in the west at Kuwana lay Nobunaga’s second son Nobukatsu, himself adopted from the aristocratic Kitabatake household.   
 
In the south, floating on the sea, Takigawa Kazumasu and Kuki Yoshitaka had gathered together a small armada of around 100 boats made up of transport and fast boats. This enormous force, altogether over 100,000 personnel strong, thus appeared to smother both the river and sea in boats.
 
“That is our target”
 
Chūsaburō extended his whip, pointing at the castle at Ōtorii.  At the same time he asked Sanzaemon how he would go about attacking it.
 
The island itself was of a circular shape upon which an Ikki force of around 10,000 followers had gathered. In the space between the palisades earth mounds had been raised for protection, thus showing that the defenders were prepared for a musketry duel.  Throughout the island, large scale flags bearing the holy inscription “Namu Amida Butsu” had been raised, and which were now fluttering in the sea breeze .
 
“There’s little point in coming up with a plan to draw them out. We should attack them head-on with a full-scale assault”.
 
To make a landing on the island, Sanzaemon had gathered together an array of paddy boats that were both wide and shallow. The plan was to set up shields on the sides of the boats to provide protection for the crew. From there the crew could continue to shoot their muskets as they made landfall on the island.
 
“With this much arrayed against them, there’s no chance that the Ikki will succeed. Do you think that they’ll just give up?”       
 
Jirō Gorō was a member of the Honganji Monto and so had a degree of sympathy with the Ikki force. The name Hino came from Hinomaki Gokadera, a subsidiary temple of Honganji. Its congregation, both retainers and residents, had many Monto members. Among the force arrayed against the Oda on the other side of the palisade were people who had forsaken their ties to the Gamō family to join the Ikki.
 
“While there’s no chance for the Ikki to succeed, we won’t permit them to surrender either”    
 
Chūsaburō well understood just how mercilessly Nobunaga planned to wage this battle.
 
“What the hell does that mean? Are you saying that we’re going to kill them all?”
 
“Jirō Gorō, you forget your place”, Sanzaemon admonished in a low voice.
 
Nobody wanted such a thing to happen.  Yet many of the warriors present began to realise that there was no other way of preventing this from turning into a long, drawn out conflict.
 
On the 15th of the seventh month, Nobunaga ordered an all-out attack.
 
The Oda forces launched their transport and fast boats from all four directions and proceeded to open fire with muskets and cannon on the five Ikki castles. The Ikki force responded with cannon and fire arrows of their own, yet the firepower arrayed against them by the Oda force was overwhelming and soon put them purely on the defensive.
 
It was at this point that Chūsaburō launched his attack on Ōtorii castle.
 
Paddy boats had a good degree of stability for the three musket companies that Chūsaburō had prepared for the assault, and wouldn’t tip over even if they ran over a sand bank.  Chūsaburō divided up his 300 troops among the boats, and after floating them down river landed at Ōtorii. 
 
The Ikki force proceeded to fire their muskets at this new threat from the top of their earth mound defences. In response, Chūsaburō peered out from between the gaps in the shields of the paddy boats. Judging when the enemy had expended its ammunition, he then sent his long spear squads in to attack the gaps in the palisades.
 
Hand-to-hand fighting around the palisades, with each side grabbing at the other’s spears, lasted for around an hour. Yet still the Oda force could not break the castle’s defences.   
 
Chūsaburō decided to withdraw all of his troops. Taking them back to their landing place, they proceeded to construct earth mounds of their own and wait for reinforcements.
 
It was the same situation at all of the other castles.  Despite landing on the islands, the Oda force had been unable to break through the dual palisades around each castle. And so the decision was made to set up camp and lay siege to the castles.
 
For the Ikki force, whose contact with the outside world had been completely cut off, a lack of fresh water began to have a more serious impact than the loss of troops. There were no wells in any of the five castles. If they dug into the earth, their proximity to the sea meant that all that came out was salt water. The thinking had been that since they were close to rivers, they could use that water and so there was no need to dig any wells. Yet the force surrounding them was so overwhelming and its security on such high alert that the Ikki force soon found that it couldn’t venture out to fetch any water.
 
It was clear to all how this was going to end.  The Ikki force would eventually surrender only to rise again somewhere else. Yet Nobunaga would not allow this to happen.  If he did permit the Ikki force to leave, they would only drift along to another province and once again revolt against his rule.
 
In order to force them to obey, Nobunaga would have to make them give up their beliefs. Yet given that the Monto’s only desire was to be reborn in the Pure Land (Jōdō), they would rather die than go against Honganji’s teachings.  
 
(“Well, that’s that then. They will have to be cut off at the roots”)
 
Having made his fateful decision, Nobunaga gave the order for security around each castle to be increased. 
 
The siege of Ise Nagashima went on for three months. Within the castles, starvation and thirst soon began to take their toll. According to the ‘Shinchō Kōki’… “As the siege went on for three months, the number of dead reached half (of the Ikki force)”. 
 
This was a tragedy for the Ikki force, yet the burden on the Oda force, which had mobilised a large army and which now had to maintain a siege, was also significant.  Criticism of Nobunaga’s methods among society in general began to grow, gradually putting the Oda force in a difficult position.
 
The 19th of the ninth month proved to be a fateful day. While promising the Ikki force that it would be able to surrender, Nobunaga planned to train his muskets on the Ikki force when it tried to leave by boat and ensure that none got out alive.
 
Having been forced into such dire circumstances, the Ikki force decided to make a desperate counter-attack. Seven or eight hundred members of their force stripped off, sank into the water, and made their way towards the Oda camp to assault them.
The Oda force, unaware from which direction the enemy had suddenly appeared to launch their attack, were cut down in great numbers by the Monto and their leaders and disgraced themselves by allowing the Monto to escape. Enraged that this had been allowed to happen, Nobunaga ordered that some 20,000 people, old and young, male and female, who had fled to Yanagashima and Nakae to escape the worst of the fighting, be herded into one corner of the same area, attacked with flames from all four directions and burned to death.
 
For those who had been hiding in ditches and small shacks and shanties, the approach of flames driven from dwellings that had already been set on fire soon forced many to abandon their places of shelter. The groups of musketeers and archers surrounding them then cut them down mercilessly in a shower of bullets and arrows.
 
Those who could no longer escape were engulfed in flames, and they screamed and wailed hideously as they burned.
 
The leaders of the Ikki soon found the building that they had retreated into was on fire.  The enormous thatched roof proceeded to slowly burn. The gates of the castle, which until this time had remained firmly closed, finally opened.  Out came around 100 young women, all of them almost completely naked, holding infants that were still teething and others only months old.  It seems the leaders had chosen to play the only hand they had left, pleading that the Oda force spare the children.
 
Observing all this from the other side of the palisade, a roar like a beast starved of its share of blood went up among the Oda force. The gates to the palisade were flung open and men rushed forward, jostling with one another to seize hold of one of the women.  No one made any effort to save the children. 
 
Those children that tried to get away were surrounded and impaled on cross shaped and single bladed spears. They were then hoisted into the air and placed in the gaps between the palisades. Any children who had not already succumbed to their wounds became targets for the musketeers to practice their skills and were shot through the head.  
 
Chūsaburō witnessed all this from his vantage point at Ōtorii. 
 
Piercing screams that assailed the ears, roaring flames sending ash and smoke up into the heavens, the smell of burning flesh mixed in with the passing breeze.  All this Chūsaburō took in with all of his senses, the horror of war rendered so vividly that he found himself unable to move.
 
“This can’t be happening.  This isn’t something that humans do”.
 
So sobbed Jirō Gorō as he crouched down, and unable to take any more proceeded to throw up.
 
The musket companies under Sanzemon’s command also stood up, astonished at the tragedy unfolding before them.
 
(“Is this…is this what idealistic people do?”)
 
No, it can’t be, Chūsaburō thought for a moment before dismissing it from his mind.
 
And yet, Chūsaburō well understood Nobunaga’s feelings, that if Nobunaga did not do this and go this far, then the country would never change. Chūsaburō knew that there was no other way for a warrior to live than to obey commands.
 
(“Yet is this really the way it should be?”)
 
Amid a shocking scene that could rend heaven from earth, Chūsaburō asked himself this question again and again, cursing himself that he had lived this long without ever having held a set of beliefs.

Chapter One   The advance from Shikoku　(continued from last week)
Miyoshi Yukinaga and the Hosokawa clan
 
1   The Hosokawa, shugo of Awa province, and the Muromachi Bakufu
 
According to the various military tales and genealogies composed about the Miyoshi clan during the Edo period, the Ogasawara of Shinano province were appointed as the shugo (an official position similar to a governor) over Awa province during the Kamakura period. A descendant of that family established himself in Miyoshi-gun (district) at the mouth of the Yoshino river, and there took the surname Miyoshi. 



While it is certainly true that this person belonged to the same family, as is often the case with many of the figures of the Era of the Warring States, it is difficult to verify the validity of claims about origins.
 
A primary source detailing the origins of the Miyoshi first appeared in the latter half of the fifteenth century.  On the 24th of the second month of Kanshō 6 (1465), Inō Shinkaku, the bugyōnin (overseer) appointed by the shugo of Awa province Hosokawa Shigeyuki, ordered one “Miyoshi Shikibu no Shō” to accumulate information about taxation paid across 3-gun districts. In Awa province at the time, the shugodai (a deputy to the shugo) of the Tōjō clan amalgamated a number of provincial districts and appointed either ko-shugodai (an assistant, usually a retainer, to the shugodai) or gundai (district administrators) to each. In the southern gun, Tōjō Wakasa Nyūdō, and in the north and west Miyoshi Shikibu no Shō, were two of these individuals.
 
In the first year of Bunmei (1469), Inō Shinkaku issued a directive to Miyoshi Shikibu no Shō, Kataho Hitachi Nyūdō, and Henmi Bungo Nyūdō to collect tithes from their respective districts.  Kataho was from Izu province and a descendant of a hikan (a retainer granted land and special authority in exchange for military service) of the Hōjō Tokusō clan of the Kamakura Bakufu.  The Henmi clan was from Kai province, and like the Takeda and Ogasawara clans, lay claim to Minamoto no Yoshimitsu as an ancestor.  Both families (Kataho and Henmi) thus bore illustrious lineages, yet if the Miyoshi were also descended from the Ogasawara, wouldn’t it have made more sense for them to also take a surname from a geographical feature in the eastern provinces?
 
Following the chain of logic here, the Miyoshi were most likely kokujin (a prominent local samurai family) in Awa province, who grew in influence to become the gundai of the north western region of Awa. In their search for a more illustrious lineage, many kokujin status families in Awa like the Ichinomiya began to describe themselves as descended from the Ogasawara clan, thus leading to the establishment of the Ogasawara theory of origin.
 
There is also a theory that this Miyoshi Shikibu no Shō was a direct ancestor of Miyoshi Yukinaga, Motonaga and Nagayoshi, each of whom would make their mark in the Kinai region (Yamashiro, Yamato, Settsu, Kawachi, and Izumi provinces).  However all three chose to give themselves the title of ‘Chikuzen no Kami’ (a common practice among prominent military figures of this era was to appoint themselves to positions based on former Imperial titles, in this case ‘kami’. The title held no actual rank, and was more a trend adopted to make one appear more illustrious. Chikuzen is the former name of modern Fukuoka prefecture). While it is possible that the family’s lineage was altered at some point, we do know that in Tenshō 9 (1581) there was still a family by the name of Miyoshi in Awa province using the official title ‘Shikibu no Shō’. Hence the chances that Yukinaga, Motonaga and Nagayoshi had a common ancestor in Shikibu no Shō are rather slim. 
 
It does appear that in the aftermath of the Ōnin War, in the seventeenth year of Bunmei (1485), Hosokawa Nariyuki and his son Masayuki were accompanied by members of the Miyoshi clan in their journey from Kyoto to Awa. So rather than originally being from Awa, there was a Miyoshi family active in Kyoto at the time. It seems more likely that the family of Miyoshi Shikibu no Shō that came to administer the north-western regions of Awa were originally the main branch of the family, while the Miyoshi that later came to adopt the more prestigious title of ‘Chikuzen no Kami’ were retainers in the service of the shugo of Awa province residing in Kyoto. Yukinaga, Motonaga and Nagayoshi were the descendants of these retainers, and during the course of the Era of the Warring States, it was this family that would eventually come to be regarded as the main branch of the Miyoshi clan.
 
The Muromachi Bakufu and the Hosokawa clan
 
The Muromachi Bakufu maintained a policy of dividing up its authority into regions, namely the Kantō, Tōhoku and Kyūshū. To the position of Kamakura Kubō (a position overseeing the administration of 10 provinces in the Kantō region) it appointed the fourth son of Ashikaga Takauji, Ashikaga Motouji, while in relation to the position of Kantō Kanrei (a position providing advice to the Kamakura Kubō and appointed by the shōgun) they appointed the Uesugi clan, a family from whom Takauji’s mother was descended. To the position of Ōshū Tandai (overseeing the far northern provinces) they appointed the Ōsaki clan (a branch of the aristocratic Shiba family), while the Mogami clan (another branch of the Shiba family) were appointed as the Ushū Tandai (the area of north western Honshū now occupied by Akita and Niigata prefectures).   
 
The position of Kyūshū Tandai went to the Shibukawa clan, thereby ensuring that all of these prestigious posts were occupied by illustrious families tied through blood relations to the Ashikaga Bakufu. On the other hand, the Tokai, Hokuriku, Kinnai, Chūgoku and Shikoku regions (known collectively as the Muromachi Dono Gobunkoku) were under the direct control of the shōgun, while the shugo of the same stretch of territory were expected to reside in Kyoto. Those who became shugo included the Akamatsu and Sasaki clans, both of whom had been instrumental in the formation of the Ashikaga Bakufu, and apart from prestigious families dating from the Kamakura era including the Ōuchi, Ōtomo, and Kōno, all fell under the Ashikaga banner. The basic administration adopted by the Bakufu involved shugo combining their responsibilities for numerous provinces throughout the country with control over those same areas, all the while providing the shōgun and the Bakufu government in Kyoto with support.
 
One issue that emerged for the Ashikaga shōgun during the Nanbokuchō period (roughly 1336 to 1392) was how to secure their position while simultaneously fighting both the Southern Court and restraining more influential members of their own family. Their solution was to make the Northern Court appreciate the significance of the role of the shugo, remove the influence of any other branches of the Ashikaga family so that the shōgun monopolized contact with the Emperor, and ensure that only the shōgun’s family occupied high office.

Meanwhile the Hosokawa clan, itself a branch of the Ashikaga family, had pacified Shikoku during Ashikaga Takauji’s retreat to Kyūshū, Through their assistance rendered to Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, Yoshimitsu was able to consolidate the authority of the shōgun. The Hosokawa were, in turn, appointed as senior councilors within the Ashikaga Bakufu. Generations of the Hosokawa clan would take the position title of Ukyō no Daibu (many of the official positions within the Bakufu and imperial system took names derived from Chinese bureaucratic titles), which in time became known as the Ukei chō. The main branch of the Hosokawa family, under the title of Ukei chō, would become one of the three principal families appointed to the position of kanrei (the Sanrankei) together with the Shiba and Hatakeyama. They would then combine their Bakufu duties to simultaneously serve as shugo to the provinces of Settsu, Tanba, Sanuki and Tosa.     
 
The Hosokawa also had their own influential sub-branches of the family. Among those who only served in the position of shugo included the Awa, Awaji, Bichū, Izumi-kami and Izumi-shimo families. Non-shugo branch families such as the Yashū and Tenkyū would serve as retainers to the Ukei chō.
 
At the height of the Muromachi Bakufu, the shōgun held a conference examining important proposals, receiving opinions from a variety of councilors. Those councilors included the sankanrei (see earlier), the Yamana, Isshiki, Akamatsu, and the Awa. In the beginning, these families would wait upon the shōgun, taking up guest spots and holding special status which allowed their attendance at events. With the coming of the Era of the Warring States, these families would be consolidated into the Go shōban shū, a group the membership of which served as proof that one belonged to a powerful, influential clan. The Awa became as renowned as the sankanrei, Yamana, Isshiki, Akamatsu, Kyōgoku, Hatakeyama, and Ōuchi. In other words, the Awa on their own became a mainstay of the Bakufu, one rank below the Ukei chō.
 
The Hosokawa were proud of their strong familial ties. By the mid-fifteenth century, unlike the Hatakeyama that had split into the Masanaga and Yoshihiro factions and fought among themselves, the Hosokawa had emerged as the leaders of the Bakufu government.

From Amano Tadayuki, "The Miyoshi Clan - The first "Lords of the Realm" of the Warring States Era", Chūōkōron Publishing, Tokyo, 2021

The Miyoshi Family of Awa
 
From the 15th through to the 16th centuries, the Miyoshi became a prominent family, advancing from Awa province on Shikoku Island into the Kinai region, a region that at the time was known as ‘the realm’. ‘Realm’ is a multi-faceted term and can refer in particular to Kyoto, the Kinai region, and Japan in its entirety. During the Era of the Warring States (Sengoku Jidai) it was mostly used to refer to the Kinai.
 
‘Realm’ does not simply designate a region but includes a nuance of centralized political power, in the same way ‘capital’ and ‘central’ is used today. In the area around Kyoto following the Ōnin War (1467-1477), the Miyoshi family were extraordinarily active. Starting with  Miyoshi Yukinaga who led a tokusei ikki (a form of protest against the imposition of land taxes), it extended to Miyoshi Motonaga who recommended that Ashikaga Yoshitsuna (otherwise known as the Sakai Kubō) be elevated to the position of shōgun, to Miyoshi Nagayoshi, who refused to show deference to the Ashikaga shōgunate and came to rule over Kyoto itself, to Miyoshi Yoshitsugu who assassinated shōgun Ashikaga Yoshiteru, to Miyoshi Yasunaga, who adopted both an offspring of Oda Nobunaga and the nephew of Hashiba (Toyotomi) Hideyoshi, through to Miyoshi Isan and Miyoshi Fusakazu, both of whom loyally served Tokugawa Ieyasu.
 
Yet when compared to the families of the eastern provinces such as the Date, Hōjō, Uesugi, and Takeda, and those of the western provinces such as the Mōri, Chōsokabe, and Shimazu, nowadays the Miyoshi are virtually unknown. Why is this?
 
When we think about the Era of the Warring States, we recall that this was the age of the three great figures of Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Ieyasu, which also incorporated the Azuchi-Momoyama period. The Miyoshi, who were unrelated to these three great figures, prove poor material when it comes to providing stories for manga, novels, television dramas, historical plays, movies and tourist spots. Yet all versions of the standard high school issue B textbook of Japanese history bring up the Miyoshi. For someone to claim they don’t know who they are should be considered odd.    
 
According to the newly revised version of the “Japanese History B” textbook (published by Jikkyo publishing in 2019), “Hosokawa Harumoto, who successfully managed to subdue Kyoto, had his authority seized by Miyoshi Nagayoshi. Meanwhile the authority of the Miyoshi would in turn be taken over by their retainer Matsunaga Hisahide.” These details have not changed since 1989. Moreover in the ‘Comprehensive Japanese History – Revised Version” (printed by Yamakawa Publishing in 2019), it includes a footnote that states “the struggle over the authority of government centered around the Hosokawa continued unabated”, while in the margins it says “in reality authority shifted from the Hosokawa to Miyoshi Nagayoshi, and then transferred to Nagayoshi’s retainer Matsunaga Hisahide”.
 
In other words, the Miyoshi had no other role than as an example of how retainers such as Matsunaga Hisahide overthrew their social superiors (gekokujō).  
 
When we trace the origins of this line of thinking, we arrive at Ōta Ushikazu (Gyūichi)’s “Taikaou sama kunki no uchi” (A military record of the Taikō, i.e., Toyotomi Hideyoshi) and Raisan Yō’s “Nihon Gaishi” (A history of Japanese foreign relations).  The “military record of the Taikō”, written at the outset of the Edo period (1615-1868) was a compilation of anecdotes about warring state era generals centered around Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and featured embellishments and fabrications. It was to become the basis for narratives and ballads. “A history of Japanese foreign relations” was released in the latter Edo period, and while it is unclear whether it was based on any historical evidence, through stories and ballads its anecdotes grew in popularity and were eagerly absorbed. These in turn became renowned tales that were widely read by the population at large.
 
Most notably, Raisan Yō, who possessed Confucian values, defended the previously reviled Nobunaga by claiming that Nobunaga’s harsh measures were a necessity because of the civil strife of his era. Raisan was also responsible for the formation of a view of Nobunaga, Hideyoshi and Ieyasu as heroic figures struggling against adversity. By and large these views have carried on through to today. For my part, I have never read a primary source that says that Matsunaga Hisahide usurped the Miyoshi.
 
Lecture notes belonging to one of the most prominent scholars of history during the Meiji and Taishō eras, Tanaka Yoshinari, who served as both head of the historical archives and a professor at Tokyo Imperial University, were compiled by his students following his death into the “Ashikaga Jidai Shi” (History of the Ashikaga Era, 1923) and the “Oda Jidai Shi” (History of the Oda Era, 1924). This was a time when historical studies were adopting evidence-based theories. While both works go into considerable detail on the divisions within the Hosokawa family, they note that Miyoshi Motonaga, the father of Miyoshi Nagayoshi, was responsible for the creation of a new political dynamic, but say nothing about either Nagayoshi or Hisahide themselves. Perhaps Tanaka, regarding these two as responsible for nothing more than chaos and decadence, saw no value in speaking about them.    
 
Rather, the “Nippon Kinsei Shi” (History of Early Modern Japan, Vol.1, 1916) which was authored by Nakamura Kōya while he was still studying as a postgraduate at Tokyo Imperial University, regarded Miyoshi Nagayoshi highly. For Nakamura, Nagayoshi was “without peer among the many heroic figures made flesh during the maelstrom of the sixteenth century”. In the Kinki region where he was most active, there existed “a school of thought advocating mature iconoclasm” and was a region suited to the “large scale recruitment of troops”. This ‘shining star’ lacked the forthright nature of figures such as Takeda Shingen, Uesugi Kenshin, Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and Tokugawa Ieyasu. Yet in terms of political skill he “should indeed be admired”. The fact that he placed his main residence not in Kyoto but at Sekkasen (Izumi province, modern Osaka) was ‘extraordinarily perceptive’.
 
His response to opponents such as Hosokawa Harumoto and Ashikaga Yoshiteru was praised for its “calm repose, thorough preparation, and abundant benevolence”.  Before the war, Nagayoshi “had an established reputation as a calm and composed general that loved poetry”. After the war, most historical study on the Kinki region in the warring states period focused on the Yamashiro kuni ikki (a form of uprising led by regional leaders) and the ikkō ikki (a religiously inspired uprising linked to the Jodō Shinshū faith), as well as the emergence of independent urban areas such as Sakai. Such trends as these had their foundation in the search for the origins of post-war democracy in Japan.
 
As a result of such studies, the picture of the Kinai following the Ōnin War was one where Oda Nobunaga abruptly entered the capital and thereafter embarked on conflict throughout the nation. The history of almost a century of central government that occupied the period in between the two above events was apparently cast aside. Moreover, as a result of movements opposed to the over-concentration of authority in Tokyo during Japan’s period of accelerated economic growth, regional leaders, namely famous warlords from various places throughout the nation, garnered a great amount of attention. Almost concurrent to this trend was another where those like the Miyoshi who were active within the central government faded from view.  
 
With the turn of a new century, studies into the Muromachi Bakufu and shōguns along with those of warlords of the Kinai region evolved, resulting in the publication of a continuous series of books on the subject. Conversely doubts began to be raised regarding both Nobunaga’s foresight and creativity. The image of Nobunaga that we hold today was greatly influenced by Ōta Gyūichi’s “Shinchō Kōki” (Public Records of Nobunaga), resulting in his portrayal as a heroic, albeit somewhat unusual public figure. (The emergence of new studies into the Muromachi period) thus made it possible to compare the era of the Oda with their warlord predecessors in the Kinai region.   
 
Ultimately, to the people of the Muromachi era, the idea of overthrowing the Muromachi Bakufu and uniting the nation was both extraordinary and lacking in common sense.  People today have the benefit of knowing the history of the Kamakura, Muromachi, and Tokugawa bakufunates and how all three were overthrown by force of arms. They then tend to believe that overthrowing the Bakufu was one of the options available at the time. However the overthrow of the Muromachi Bakufu was the first time in Japanese history that this idea became reality.  To directly confront the shōgun and then overthrow him was something that no Japanese had experienced up to this point.  
 
And while all this was going on, there is the added question of how the people at the time accepted a new form of central government in exchange for the old one? What presuppositions and environment led to its formation? In order to consider such questions, there is value in discussing how, over the course of a century in the Kinai region of central Japan otherwise known as ‘the realm’, the Miyoshi dealt with the Muromachi Bakufu and Ashikaga shōgun and then three governments each led by a different ‘heroic figure’ of the age. Let us begin, then, by examining the battles of the Miyoshi family.   

After many months of absence from this particular blog, I’ve been inspired to once again apply what analysis skills I have to the announcement of the updated Joint Declaration on Security Cooperation that was signed in Perth in late October last year. The visit to Perth by Prime Minister Kishida was brief but telling in the fact that it took place in the run-up to the G20 in Bali, making it the fourth occasion in the space of a year that newly elected Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese had met with his Japanese counterpart.
 
The principle takeaway from the updated Declaration was language outlined under Article 6, stating that “we will consult each other on contingencies that may affect our sovereignty and regional security interests, and consider measures in response.” As was commented upon at length by Australian journalists and assorted analysts, this sentence has a strong resemblance to that found in the ANZUS treaty with its commitment to consultation when faced with a potential threat.
 
It marked a turning point in Japan’s security relations with its near(er) neighbours, given that Japan had not made similar commitments with any other country other than the United States in the postwar era. This development, coupled with the signing of the Reciprocal Access Agreement in January last year, signaled that Japan and Australia now share a similar security outlook predicated on closer defence ties between like-minded partners.
 
The process by which this shared view came about was certainly not spontaneous, but has been steadily building over the past decade ever since the first Joint Declaration on Security Cooperation was signed in 2007.  It was also not an entirely linear process – many pre-existing assumptions and, it must be said, doubts had to be overcome before the administrations of both countries could be convinced to work more closely in defence of regional security.
 
Many years ago I wrote that one of the principal drawbacks to Japan seeking an alliance with Australia was the seeming lack of ‘balance’ in any bilateral defence treaty – namely, that Australia’s military presence was not significant enough nor urgent enough to convince Tokyo to push for the creation of an alliance (not to mention the numerous constitutional and legislative arguments that would need to be resolved before such negotiations could commence in earnest).
 
This observation predated the arrival of Xi Jinping and a much more militant, nationalistic stance adopted by the Chinese Communist Party and the Peoples’ Liberation Army. While there is little immediate prospect for either country to want to push for an alliance, what is more likely to occur is for both countries to work in tandem to secure regional stability, particularly over the question of Taiwan. While both countries have not changed their respective Taiwan policies, what they have done is signal in unequivocal terms that they expect any question about Taiwan’s future to be decided peacefully.
 
This shared concern over the fate of Taiwan has spurred a great deal more dialogue between both governments on how any attempt by China to seize Taiwan by force can be resisted, with both governments agreeing that deterrence is the most effective means of ensuring a democratic Taiwan’s survival. Deterrence by either country by itself would be less likely to intimidate China, but a combined plan for deterrence, incorporating not only bilateral assets but those of regional partners (the US, India, possibly South Korea, and maybe even Vietnam) would be a much more effective by merely complicating Chinese military planning and introducing an element of uncertainty surrounding each nations’ commitment to Taiwan – the “will they or won’t they?” argument.   
 
In the meantime what will make the new defence dynamic between Australia and Japan more credible will be increased levels of exercises and personnel exchanges between both countries. Japan and Australia have decades of experience in undertaking joint training with their mutual ally the United States, but more limited experience in working together exclusively. This particularly applies to the ADF, whose interaction with the SDF has predominantly involved short-term training exercises with limited numbers of personnel. To really make significant progress in joint deterrence, much larger and more ambitious exercises will need to be undertaken encompassing all areas of defence – from the three services, to cyber security, space security, hypersonics, quantum computing, unmanned systems etc.
 
The legislative framework and associated regulations for such exercises to occur are all in place. All that’s needed now is for both sides to put the time and effort in to building their nascent service ties and grasp the opportunities that the present state of the relationship has provided.  

The Reciprocal Access Agreement signed yesterday between Japan and Australia has been a long-time in the making, given it was first raised as a possibility in 2014 during what was a brief but passionate period of bilateral courtship between then Prime Ministers Abe and Abbott.  Ostensibly the RAA sets out in detail the legal requirements for the armed forces of both countries to undertake exercises in their counterpart’s facilities, including what they can take with them, how they can use it, what their legal status is, and much more besides. From a personal perspective, I have watched the negotiation process unfold over many years, with multiple visits by Defence officials and umpteen documents exchanged seeking clarification of laws and regulations to help move the ratification process along.

As has been reported elsewhere, the main sticking point for the RAA was Japan’s use of the death penalty. As one of the few OECD countries that still practices capital punishment, successive Japanese governments have maintained that the death penalty serves as a deterrent and a means of adequately conveying the outrage of society against those who commit the most heinous of crimes. There is a social expectation that the death penalty remain an option in response to murder etc., which is at odds with legal scholarship and social mores in Western nations (bar the US) where concern over the limit of state power to execute citizens and the rights of the individual and human dignity have received greater emphasis.

The possibility of ADF personnel being subject to capital punishment proceedings in Japanese courts obviously didn’t sit well with Australia’s bureaucratic and political class, particularly given the fact that within most of the defence agreements that Australia has with nations that still practice the death penalty (the UAE, Malaysia, PNG etc.,), a clause exists that exempts or grants immunity to ADF personnel from the death penalty in the host nation.  Yet such is the central role played by the death penalty in the Japanese legal system that exempting visiting foreign military forces from it would be both legally and politically impossible.

In the background to this dilemma lies the long-standing US-Japan Status of Armed Forces in Japan Agreement, specifically Article XVII, which allows US servicemen and women to be tried exclusively by US courts (i.e., “those subject to the military law of the United States”, itself a sticking point given numerous incidents involving US military personnel in Japan over the decades), but which offers no exemptions from either the US or Japanese authorities’ use of capital punishment. 

Such was the sensitivity of this issue that following the ‘in-principle agreement’ reached by PM Morrison and then PM Suga during Morrison’s visit to Tokyo in November of 2020, no mention was made of how the issue of the death penalty would be addressed in the RAA. So the issue continued to be thrashed out behind closed doors as each side sought to convince the other of its concerns and what degree of compromise could be reached. Apparently the RAA now agrees to have a “case-by-case” consultation process for any crimes that might warrant the death penalty in Japan.

With the Agreement now signed, the next step along the road to ratification is its review by parliamentary committees in both countries.  While questions will most likely be raised about to what degree ADF and SDF personnel will be subject to the domestic laws of either country (and on what basis “case-by-case” decisions will be made), apart from some objections from long-standing opponents to security agreements, the core articles of the Agreement should receive approval and be entered into force at some point this year.

Another interesting development stemming from the RAA has been the decision to update the 2007 Joint Security Declaration. This is, according to newspaper reports, an inevitable result of the deteriorating security situation in the Indo-Pacific region and the need for both nations to engage in greater levels of intelligence sharing.  While not as visually appealing as the RAA (i.e., large numbers of SDF personnel and equipment present in Australia), an upgraded Security Declaration might have even further reaching consequences for security relations between Australia and Japan.  While some have advocated for both nations to essentially go all in and declare an alliance, the upgraded Security Declaration will influence the degree of cooperation between both sides to the point at which it will be an alliance in all but name.

No doubt reservations will be raised among some members the Australian cognoscente that Australia is committing itself to a defence relationship that might increase the risk of becoming entangled in a dispute within the East China Sea. Yet Australia is already committed to that region, and has a major interest in contributing to efforts to try and preserve the existing order and ensure a continuation of democratic principles and the rule of law.  To abrogate that responsibility and dismiss the concerns of regional partners as ‘nothing to do with us’ would condemn Australia in the eyes of nations seeking reassurance that they are not alone in the face of the rise of a belligerent, nationalistic dictatorship bent on establishing a regional hegemony.  It would, in fact, heighten rather than diminish tension and expedite the already increased militarisation of the region in an ‘every man for himself’ rush to be armed to the teeth born of mistrust. 

It is better, therefore, for us to act in union with partners who share our concerns and who are willing to transcend their reservations to achieve a mutually held goal – the maintenance of stability through cooperative deterrence. Japan and Australia have shown the way forward, and the ripple effect from this will continue to echo in the capitals across the region and further afield for many years to come.

(The following translation is taken from Owada Tetsuo’s “Mōri Motonari – The strategy and tactics of a master general”, published by Mikasa Shobō in 2013. The book is a general introduction to the character of Mōri Motonari, considered one of the most influential rulers during the era of the Warring States and who had a profound impact on those daimyō and jitō families located in Aki and Nagato provinces (what would eventually be known as Chōshū).  The extract below, from the introduction to the book, is an exploration of the genealogy of the Mōri and how they came to occupy the lands from which they would earn their fame. The numbers in parenthesis after paragraphs refers to the location of the information in the Kindle version of the book). 
 
Chapter One
 
Motonari in his youth, and the limits of endurance
 
Birth of the Mōri clan - the founding period of the Kamakura Bakufu
 
The Mōri clan traces its origins to Ōe Hiromoto, a retainer of merit who emerged during the formative period of the Kamakura Bakufu. Following receipt of an invitation extended by Minamoto no Yoritomo, Ōe travelled from Kyoto to Kamakura in the 1st year of Ganreki (1184). He was appointed as the head of the Kumonjō (which later became known as the Mandokoro, in other words the centre for the administration of the Bakufu), and served as an aide to Yoritomo, later being assigned to positions such as shugo and jitō (both of which in the Kamakura era referred to retainers granted estates originally belonging to aristocratic families, and overseers of those estates). 
 
Such was the value of Ōe’s service that he was granted the territory of Mōri-no-shō (毛利荘) in Sagami province, Shimazue-no-shō (島末荘) in Suō province (now known as Tōwa-chō, in Ōshima-gun, Yamaguchi Prefecture), Yamamoto-no-shō (山本荘) in Higo province (Uekimachi, Kamoto-gun, Kumamoto Prefecture, now part of Kumamoto City), and Kuruma-no-shō (栗真荘) in Ise province (now Shiroko, Suzuka City, Mie Prefecture). 
 
The Ōe clan had served generations of emperors as imperial tutors (jidoku), fulfilling their role at court as instructors in letters and literature in the same manner as the Sugawara clan.  Yet it was Hiromoto’s generation who first underwent the transition from ‘tutor’ to ‘retainer’.  Hiromoto had six sons and five daughters. His eldest son, Chikahiro, was adopted into the household of Kuga Michichika, Minister of the Interior (naidaijin), while his second son Tokihiro and third son Masahiro adopted the surnames of the Nagai clan and Nawa clan respectively. His fourth son, Suemitsu, took the surname Mōri, while his fifth son Tadanari took the surname Kaitō. His sixth son entered the priesthood. (Loc.303)  
 
So, the surname Mōri finally made an appearance. Its origins lay in the name of the Mōri-no-shō (毛利荘) in Sagami province, bestowed by Ōe Hiromoto upon his family. In other words, as a consequence of the division of inheritance among Hiromoto’s various offspring, the fourth son of the family, Suemitsu, took up residence in the above area and adopted the shōen’s name as his own. (Loc.334)
 
The Mōri-no-shō from which the Mōri clan took its name is believed to extend from the northern part of Atsugi City in Kanagawa Prefecture, all the way through to the southwest of Aikawa-machi in Aikō-gun in the same prefecture.   It is important to note, however, that one shouldn’t read the name ‘Mōri-no-shō’ with the lengthened vowel, but should instead read it as ‘Mori-no-shō’. This is because in some documents from the period, the character for ‘woods’ (森, mori) is used (thereby giving an indication of how the title was pronounced).
 
No historical documents survive that explain when the Mori-no-shō was founded,  however in the “Sonbi Bunmyaku” and volume three of the “Heiji Monogatari”,  there is a record that the Mori-no-shō in Sagami province was ruled by Minamoto no Yoshitaka, the younger brother of Minamoto no Tameyoshi. We know that Yoshitaka was referred to as the ‘ruler of Mori’, and so it appears that the it had been established as a shōen around the end of the Heian period. (Loc. 334)
 
Minamoto no Yoritomo is entertained at Mori-no-shō
 
Furthermore, it appears that there was another lineage who bore the name Mōri separate to that of Mōri Suemitsu at Mori-no-shō.  The existence of a warrior retainer who went by the name of Mōri Kageyuki has been confirmed, who lived from the late Heian to the early Kamakura periods.  It’s been hypothesized that this individual might have belonged to one of the pioneer families that developed the region (Loc.334), however this theory is scant on details.  Mōri Kageyuki appears to have been affiliated with the army that Minamoto no Yoritomo took with him to attack the Taira at the Battle of Ishibashi-yama. (Loc.353)
 
The entry in the “Azuma-kagami” marked for the 18th day of the 1st month of the 1st year of Yōwa (1181) states that “At Mori-no-shō in Sagami province there is a tale a monk who resided there and went by the name of Inkei”. This makes it clear that a monk known as Inkei lived at the shōen, and is believed to have been a member of the family of Mōri Kageyuki mentioned earlier. The use of the title “Mori-no-shō” in this manner also reveals that it had already been established by the time the entry was made. (Loc.353)
 
As we continue to read the “Azuma-kagami”, we learn that the Mori-no-shō was divided into an upper and lower half.  For example, when we examine the entry for the 8th day of the 8th month of the 5th year of Genkyū (1194), it reads “it is said that Inaba Zenji…received guests in lower Mori-no-shō”. In other words, what this tells us is that Inaba Zenji, otherwise known as Ōe Hiromoto, played host to Minamoto no Yoritomo.  The same entry records that on that day, Yoritomo made a pilgrimage to Hinata Yakushi. While on the way there, he dropped by the residence of Ōe Hiromoto in lower Mori-no-shō and received Ōe’s hospitality.
 
Now, even though it is said that the shōen had been divided into upper and lower sections, there is no mention in either any literature or records, starting with the “Azuma-kagami”, of an upper Mori-no-shō. Also, it is said that the remains of Mōri Suemitsu’s residence are located at Iiyama in Atsugi City, which would put it in the middle of Mori-no-shō. (Loc.353)
 
Were the Mōri descended from the Imperial family?
 
Although Mōri Suemitsu became a member of the Council of State (hyōjōshū) from the 1st year of Tenpuku (1233), before this time, in the period from the 6th year of Kenpo (1218) to the 3rd year of Shōkyū (1221), he became a member of the priesthood at Chōrakuji after meeting Ryūkan (a renowned priest of the late Heian – early Kamakura period), adopting the priestly name of ‘Saia’.  In the 1st month of the 1st year of Hōji (1247), the same year as the Battle of Hōji (which will be discussed later), an inscription was made on the base of a statue of Prince Shōtoku kept by the temple of Tenshūji (located in modern Gyōda City in Saitama Prefecture). The inscription reads “Offered by the venerable Saia”. This is the same ‘Saia’ as referred to above, - i.e., Mōri Suemitsu. (Loc.378)
 
Furthermore, Ryūkan was invited to the Mōri estate belonging to Suemitsu and spent his final years there, passing away at Iiyama on the Mōri estate.  The remains of that residence became the foundation for the temple of Kōfukuji at Iiyama. As such, we can suppose that Iiyama in Atsugi City served as the site for Mōri Suemitsu’s residence. (Loc.378)
 
While we have revealed most of the details of the origins of the Mōri clan, one further point remains to be clarified.  That concerns what came before the appearance of Ōe Hiromoto (Loc.378). 
 
When we examine the Mōri clan genealogy, we find that it claims Ame-no-hohi-mikoto (a god of Japanese mythology) as its founder. Part way through this genealogy, after claiming descent from Nomi-no-Sukune (regarded as the father of Sumo wrestling) and Ōe no Otondo (a courtier and Confucian scholar of the Heian period), it arrives at the famous Ōe Masafusa (a famed poet, scholar, and tutor to emperors Shirakawa, Horikawa and Toba). Hiromoto is allocated the position of grandson of Masafusa. (Loc.404)
 
However, the “Genealogy of the Ōe clan” in the 7th volume of the “Zoku Gunsho Ruijū” claims that the Emperor Heizei founded the family, thus confirming a clear difference with other theories. In truth, even the genealogy that Mōri Motonari himself wrote had notes of caution, stating “the grandchild of Emperor Heizei was the son of Prince Abo Shinnō” and that “25 generations have passed from Emperor Heizei to Motonari”. In other words, the Mōri had become separated from the Imperial family. However, if we pursue the theory that the line of the descent came from the Emperor Heizei, then the explanation for the clan name Ōe vanishes into thin air.
 
In the 1st year of Meiji (1868), scholars Kondō Yoshiki and Kondō Kiyoshi made a submission to the Mōri clan, which determined that Ame-no-hohi-mikoto was the founder of the family, thereby giving it a divine genealogy.  Despite this, the theory of descent from Abo Shinnō could not be dismissed, leading to a division of usage which established that ‘the lineage comes from the gods, while the bloodline comes from the Emperor.” (Loc. 404)
 
The Mōri enter Yoshida-no-shō in Aki province

So how was it that a noble family like the Mōri, that grew and developed in the Kantō region, came to plant themselves in Aki province (in the far west of Japan)? One of the main reasons is thought to have been the “Battle of Hōji” that broke out in the 1st year of Hōji (1247). According to records, a leading figure within the Kamakura Bakufu, Miura Yasumura, got into an argument with the Shikken Hōjō Tokiyori, thereby transforming Kamakura into a battleground.  Miura was defeated, and the conflict was later regarded as the catalyst for the monopoly that the Hōjō would hold over the office of Shikken. (Loc. 420)
 
At the time, the household of the Mōri was under the control of Suemitsu.  Suemitsu’s wife was the daughter of Miura Yoshimura, aka Yasumura’s younger sister. This particular point would prove crucial in what was to follow.
 
When he learned that Yasumura was engaged in conflict against Hōjō Tokiyori, Suemitsu joined Yasumura’s army without hesitation. Nevertheless, at the battle on the 4th of the 6th month, Suemitsu was beaten and fled to the sanctuary of the temple of Hokedō (法華堂). In the aftermath of the battle, Suemitsu’s eldest son, Hiromitsu, his second son Mitsumasa (also styled Jirō Kurabito Nyūdō), and his third son, Yasumitsu were all forced to commit ritual suicide.
 
Suemitsu had one son left by the name of Tsunemitsu. At the time of the Battle of Hōji, he was in residence at Sakyo (Sahashi)-no-shō in Echigo province (Kariwa-gun, Niigata Prefecture), and so had nothing to do with Yasumura’s uprising. Hōjō Tokiyori chose not to exact revenge on him, and so settled for appointing him as the steward (jitō) to Yoshida-no-shō in Aki province. However Mori-no-shō was still confiscated by Tokiyori.
 
Ordinarily, because of his involvement in Yasumura’s revolt, all of Suemitsu’s property and holdings would have been seized by the Shikken. Possibly out of a sense of guilt for having eliminated so many influential retainers on his own side, the punishment due for Tsunemitsu was set aside by Tokiyori. In the end, this decision ensured the continuation of the Mōri clan. (Loc.420)    
 
Unfortunately there is no information available that tells us when and under what circumstances Suemitsu was granted either Sahashi-no-shō in Echigo and Yoshida-no-shō in Aki.  It may be that in relation to Sahashi-no-shō, this was inherited from Hiromoto, however as for Yoshida-no-shō, it may have been given as a reward for Suemitsu’s involvement in the Jōkyū War.  At any rate, Tsunemitsu later divided Sahashi-no-shō into its northern and southern parts, with everything south of the Nagatori River becoming Minami-jō shō, and everything north of the same river becoming Kita-jō shō. (Loc.439) The division of property by inheritance continued under Tsunemitsu, with his eldest son Motochika inheriting the property of Kita-jō shō, while his fourth son Tokichika inherited Minami-jō shō. Indeed, Tokichika managed to gain possession of both Minami-jō shō and Yoshida-no-shō. This occurred around the 15th day of the 7th month of the 7th year of Bunei (1270).  (Loc.439)   
 
Having inherited both properties, Tokichika found himself appointed as a member of the Hyōteishū, one of the highest councils of the Kamakura Bakufu located at Rokuhara in Kyoto.  In order to pay for his upkeep while resident in the capital, the Bakufu granted Tokichika the property of Kagata (加賀田) in Kawachi province (now part of Kawachi-Nagano City in Osaka Prefecture).  Minami-jō shō had a production rate of 2000 kan, while Yoshida-no-shō produced 1000 kan.  Kagata added another 200 kan to this. In the 4th year of Einin (1296), Yoshida-no-shō was divided up, with the southern part at Toyoshima and Takehara going to a resident pioneer family (the Kazanin), while the northern half of Yoshida and Asahara remained under the control of the jitō (the Mōri themselves).
 
Tokichika bore witness to many pivotal events in Japanese history, from the downfall of the Kamakura Bakufu, the establishment of the Kenmu Imperial government, through to the founding of the Muromachi Bakufu by Ashikaga Takauji. He eventually gave Kagata to his eldest son Sadachika, while Minami-jō shō was divided up between his second son Chikamoto (who subsequently gave it to his son Iechika), as well as his third son Hiroaki and Sadachika’s son Chikahira. Tokichika himself also placed the son of Chikahira, Motoharu, in residence at Yamada village in Yoshida-gō, which was part of Yoshida-no-shō (now part of Kamiobara, Kōda-chō, Hiroshima Prefecture). All this took place in the 7th month of the 1st year of Engen (1336), immediately after the defeat of Kusonoki Masashige by Ashikaga Takauji at the battle of Minato-gawa (Minato River). (Loc.462)    
 
Tokichika retained overall control of Yoshida-no-shō, which consisted of 4 gō (sub-divisions) named Yoshida-gō, Asahara-gō, Toyoshima-gō, and Takehara-gō.  His main residence (or fortress) was not at Kōriyama (which would later become the seat of power for the Mōri) but instead was located at the peak of Tōnanroku, to the south-east of Kōriyama. The Mōri at the time focused their attention on Yoshida-no-shō, and endeavoured to unite its scattered parts under one rule. (Loc.262)

Goza Yuichi, ‘The Principles of Ikki’ (Ikki no Genri), Chikuma Gakugei Bunkõ, 2017, 3rd edition
 
Introduction – Was ikki (translators note: a revolt or uprising) an anti-establishment movement?
 
Towards an age of uncertainty ‘post 3.11’
 
The unprecedented disaster that struck Japan in 2011 proved to be an opportunity for us to reconnect with the long-forgotten value of relationships.  Words such as ‘relationships’ and ‘bonds’ were used with such frequency following the disaster that issues that until recently had occupied society, such as people dying alone and the ‘disconnected society’, seemed like they had been concocted out of thin air (of course, all that had happened is that reporting about the issues had decreased, not that they had actually improved).  These words continue to be put to good use. (13)
 
When your average person hears words like ‘relationships’ and ‘bonds’, the first thing that probably comes to mind are relations with family.  Immediately after the disaster, there were many people who sought out family members, desperate to know whether they were safe and using every means imaginable to get in contact with them.  Among my friends, some took their parents in to live with them after their family home was swept away by the tsunami.  And post-disaster, the number of people who decided to tie their nuptials increased, leading to the term ‘disaster wedding’ (shinsai kon). (14)
 
In addition, households in which three generations live under one roof (an aspect of which contains strong expectations regarding economic and child-rearing support), which had (according to 2010 statistics) fallen to just 7% of all households, started to show signs of a recovery, particularly in cities.  Of course, in modern society, where the make-up of the family continues to diversify, it would be difficult from a practical point of view to bring about a revival of large families.  For people who have left their home town to move to the city, if they then decide to live with their parents, they either have to bring their parents to the city or they have to give up their job in order to return to their hometown. And then there are housewives who don’t need to hear that “no matter how violent your husband is, you mustn’t divorce him, if only for the sake of the children”. (14)
 
While there has been a boom in recent years in nostalgia for the Shõwa era, specifically ‘the Shõwa era in which a family, although poor, leaned on one another and happily lived together’ (which contains a considerable amount of romanticisation), you can’t turn back the clock, and there are limits to the safety net of relying on relations with family members.(14)
 
In fact, one of the largest problems that modern society faces are those people who have slipped through the cracks of the pre-existing arrangement between families and businesses and who find it difficult to cope.  Given that the Japanese taxation and social welfare systems were created for the ‘husband works full time as a company employee, wife remains at home with two kids’ model - in other words ‘the happily married couple’ - those who fall outside of this model, such as households where both parents work, or where there is only one parent or where a parent is a temporary labourer, experience great social disadvantage. (14-15) And knowing what might befall them should they happen to slip up, there has been a trend in couples who fear any issues that might arise between them and so allow their relationship to atrophy (in the case of company employees, they might throw away any of their own ambitions or ideas and become entirely subservient to the company, so much so that they apparently live on company grounds).(15)
 
With non-permanent employment on the rise in today’s society, anyone who lives as a ‘full time housewife’ or ‘full time employee’ might be regarded as a ‘winner’. Yet given that this means that you must hang on for dear life no matter how dreadful either a family situation or workplace happens to be, these ‘winners’ are actually in a ‘prison’ where happiness is in limited supply (while the Japanese economy was growing, these problems remained hidden beneath the surface). (15). 
 
The new ‘medieval era’ present in modern society
 
Some of the more elderly ‘intellectuals’ in Japan may have forgotten that in Japan’s post-war democracy, ties of ‘blood’ and ties to ‘land’ were regarded in a negative light.  Recently a young essayist by the name of Furuichi Noritoshi made an astonishing literary debut by pointing out that these ties proved an impediment to the development of the ‘modern individual’ and criticised them as antiquated ‘restraints’. (15)
 
In my specialist field of medieval Japanese studies (particularly the research conducted by Katsumata Shizuo and Amino Yoshihiko), ‘unrelated’ (muen, or ‘without ties’) as a concept carries a positive meaning (as discussed later) and is not distinct to the development of the modern intellectual and his or her progressive ideas. (16) Indeed, I do think that it is quite indulgent for people to say “the best course of action is for family members to rely on one another” when disaster strikes.  
 
Following the Great East Japan Earthquake, many young people made a beeline from across the country to the disaster zone to serve as volunteers.  According to Furuichi, the earliest responders to the disaster and those who took a leading role in their volunteer work were members of foreign volunteer organisations who had experience delivering aid to developing countries such as Cambodia and Bangladesh.  (16)
 
While claiming that “Japan is one”, for these volunteers, ‘the Great East Japan Earthquake’ and ‘Cambodia’ were inter-changeable as events that required their assistance.  Their motivation for taking the lead in heading for the disaster area was not a result of nationalism emanating from an idea that ‘we’re all Japanese’.  Rather it was because they felt sympathy for ‘others’. (16) Now while it might seem a bit cold-hearted to refer to the people of the Tohoku region as ‘others’, consider how tolerable were people who, even though they weren’t directly affected by the disaster, self-indulgently pontificated with a know-it-all expression about their ‘belief in the strength of Japan’ and ‘how Japan will definitely recover’? Rather than relying on an overly sentimental identification with ‘Japan’, it is only by squarely confronting the cold reality of the very different circumstances that these people are under compared to those people in the disaster zone can new bonds be formed and true recovery assistance commence. (16-17)
​
Together with the march of globalisation, modern society, in which modern order as defined by the sovereign state is becoming increasingly relative, is gradually being referred to as a ‘new medieval era’.  Indeed, the idea of overcoming adversity through the creation of new networks rather than relying on the return of communal organisations is the same idea behind the ikki of the medieval period. (17)
 
The post-war historical view of ‘Ikki’
 
And yet ‘ikki’ has an almost inseparable association with revolutionary imagery.  When a continuous series of revolutions occurred throughout the Arab world from 2010 to 2011 (afterwards referred to as the ‘Arab Spring’), something that caught my eye were comments on the internet saying “they are like the ‘ikki’ found in Japanese history”, thereby revealing an association of anti-government people’s movements with ‘ikki’.  (17)
 
In 1917, women from a coastal town in Toyama Prefecture led protests against the monopolisation of rice by local rice merchants and land owners and the unreasonable price at which rice was being sold. This event, subsequently known as the ‘rice riot’ (kome sõdõ) was referred to by papers at the time as the ‘Etchû(translator’s note: former name for Toyama) women’s ikki’.  The security protests that took place in the 1960s were also regarded as ikki.  (17). The Nobel literature prize awardee Oe Kenzaburõ, in his novel titled “The Silent Cry” (published in 1967) combined the peasant ikki of 1860 (the first year of Manen) with the protest over the security treaty in 1960 (Shõwa 35). (18)
 
This problem is not merely confined to how the general population regards the phenomenon of ikki.  Even specialists in Japanese history more or less treat ‘ikki’ as revolutionary movements.  All 5 volumes of the series ‘Ikki’ published by the University of Tokyo in 1961, and which still serve as the foundation for most studies on ikki, describe ikki in their preamble as a ‘fixed form of pre-modern class struggle’. 
 
Class struggle is one of the key concepts of communism. Simply put, it envisages that in a society made up of classes, the non-ruling class will struggle against the ruling class in order to prevent being exploited.  In more modern parlance, you might say that it is an anti-establishment, anti-ruling power resistance movement.  In its most extreme form, the non-ruling class refuses to abide by the system established by the ruling class and overturns it in a ‘revolution’.  The ‘Communist Manifesto’ published by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels in 1848 declared that “all history is the history of class struggle”.  Class struggle thus occurs over and over again, and every time it does society is reformed and advances.  Once the non-industrialist class ‘the proletariat’ seizes political power (the proletariat revolution), the history of class struggle comes to an end and the communist society becomes a reality.  This is the ‘class struggle view of history’ that Marx espoused. (18)
 
So should we regard the ikki of the Sengoku and Edo periods as examples of ‘class struggle’? It does seem as though the dreams and ambitions of postwar historians were reflected onto ikki.  Communism gained popularity in postwar Japan in the period of reflection that followed the age of militarism.  In historical study circles, ‘Marxist history’ rose to the fore.  These historians regarded communism as the pinnacle of social development and held hopes that a communist revolution might take place in Japan as well. (19) 
 
As a result, the ‘history of the Japanese people’s struggle against authority’ became a major theme in postwar historicism.  This trend then led the history of ikki to be studied from the point of view of the ‘history of class struggle’.  It’s because these historians thought ‘we’re fighting for the revolution too!’.  Despite the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end to the dream of revolution, this historical bent, after undergoing a little bit of revision, continues to this day. (19)
 
Ikki was ‘a link between people’
 
As will be detailed in this book, in reality ikki was not a struggle over authority or power.  To put it more bluntly, the insistence that the ikki of the pre-modern era were examples of class struggle has not basis in fact and were fantasies concocted by postwar Japanese historians.  In other words, it something that they wanted to believe was true. Rather than thinking of them as either violent demonstrations or revolutions, it would be more realistic to consider ikki as one pattern of relationships between people. (19-20)
 
Moreover, the student and union movements of the 1960s did not burn with high-minded ideological fervor, and the fact that they were festival-like in manner speaks to the popularity of ‘utagoe-kissa’ (or coffee shops where one could sing tunes) at the time. Of course, I’m not saying that the participation of folks who indulged in a bit of fun was in any way pointless or ridiculous.  If they wanted to belt out tunes so much the better.  What I’m saying is rather than trying to deify only those directly involved in trying to bring about revolution, one should also cast an eye over all of the inter-personal relations that form the basis of a political movement. (20)
 
When one accepts that ikki was not a ‘class struggle’ but a social network, one ceases to think of ikki as simply “something that happened a long time ago”.  The study of ikki thus becomes directly relevant to modern society.  This book takes that view as a starting point when considering the role of ikki in Japanese history.  What I hope to offer is a new way of examining modern society where relations between people often undergo radical transformation. (20)