Meanwhile, in Japan

I frequently tell people that my placement in Koshu City is a tremendous stroke of luck. I say that because the JET Program doesn’t lend a lot of control over one’s location (you can make a request, but it doesn’t usually happen) and I ended up in a place that fits most of my interests perfectly (except for martial arts, but you can’t win them all). The history of this place is fascinating, so I want to share a bit of it with you guys. I try to make it easy to read as possible, but if you’re not into history and/or samurai going all chop-socky on one another then you might just skip this post.

Before it was called Yamanashi, this prefecture was known as Kai or Kai no Kuni (甲斐の国 “fruitful nation,” or literally “armor pattern country”). We might best view Kai as having been a peaceful enough place. For generations it had been ruled by the Takeda clan who were descendants of the Emperor Seiwa (ninth century) and ended up ruling the area as a roundabout result of some snappy political moves during and after the course of the Genpei War, which is by far one of the coolest conflicts in human history.

In the beginning of the sixteenth century the head of the Takeda clan, Takeda Nobutora, was busy dealing with the famous Warring States Period in a less-than-ideal position—totally landlocked and with enemies on more than one side—when he made a poor decision. Traditionally one would name his firstborn son as successor to the house, but for some reason he appears to have selected his second son to take over. Wrong move.

Enter Takeda Shingen—the kind of guy one might describe with words like “brilliant,” “epic,” or “beast.” From a young age Shingen understood how to manage people and he studied everything from classical poetry and science to military strategy. He didn’t appreciate what his father tried to do to his political career, so he used his +5 charisma to take over the clan and put Nobutora on house arrest in the middle of nowhere for the rest of his life. After reading Sun Tzu’s The Art of War he decided to make his motto “Fu-Rin-Ka-Zan” (風林火山, literally “wind, forest, fire, mountain”), which is shorthand for “swift as the wind, silent as a forest, fierce as fire, immovable as a mountain.” One might also glean the meaning from Disney’s inimitably inaccurate, though thoroughly amusing, Mulan:

So here we have a massive samurai civil war that redefines any understanding one might have of the term “blood bath” and this guy decided to waste time educating himself? Indeed, and were it not for a somewhat mysterious death at age forty-nine he would probably have conquered all of Japan as a result. His knowledge of tactics and administration were unparalleled at that time. He rerouted rivers and constructed walls around entire villages to protect not just his soldiers (as per the norm), but also the civilians. Here was a rough, rough man with a heart of gold. Like Alexander Hamilton, but with ninjas.

Another interesting aspect of the local warlord’s life was his rivalry with Nagano Prefecture’s ruler, Uesugi Kenshin. Kenshin and Shingen were about the same age and both prided themselves on being master tacticians. They fought skirmishes on occasion, but it was rare that one would be the victor. Kai, being landlocked, once ran out of salt due to blockades that a neighboring clan had established. The Takeda war machine, on the brink of collapse, was shocked to receive a shipment of the stuff from Kenshin, along with a note that read, “Wars are to be won with swords and spears, not with rice and salt.”

At the fourth Battle of Kawanakajima (in which I’ve been a foot soldier during the annual reenactment) Shingen cemented his place in history as “hardcore” when (so legend states) Kenshin managed to break through his defenses in a sudden rush, riding straight at Shingen. The Kai ruler always commanded his army from a three-legged stool, and in an apparent desire to prove his indestructibility, continued to sit on his stool and fought Kenshin using nothing but a metal-spoked fan. I have a banner in my apartment depicting this engagement because it’s simply that epic. Just to reiterate, the man fought a horse-mounted samurai warrior with a folding fan while seated.

Unfortunately for Japanese history students everywhere, Shingen was either struck by a sniper and bled out or contracted a very bad fever (sources disagree) before he could conquer Kenshin’s territory and go on to face Oda Nobunaga and his technologically advanced troops (the man loved rifles). The Takeda clan spent a good deal of time in my town. In fact Shingen’s remains are in a temple about fifteen minutes from my apartment, which is pretty cool. He had a son, Katsuyori, who was very talented, but failed to live up to his family’s ambition. Upon losing a major battle to Nobunaga, Katsuyori and his son fled to the mountain village of Yamato where they committed ritual suicide. I work at the middle school there.

Because of the village’s status as a retreat for the Takedas they have some rather unique traditions. The boys learn a dance called the juni kagura (十二神楽, literally “twelve gods entertainment”) that they do every year to amuse the local deities. A similar dance exists in the Hiroshima area. The girls learn a dance to honor Katsuyori, the name of which no one seems to know. The biggest honor, it seems, is that one boy from the middle school is chosen to portray Katsuyori in the reenactment events during Kofu’s Shingen-ko Festival, which is one of the largest such events in Japan. Last year we were even on ABC World News, although I have yet to locate a video.

I love that the cultural and social impact of these people can still be felt. When excited, my boys will sometimes shout the Takeda army’s warcry. Fu-Rin-Ka-Zan can be seen on bumper stickers and the free fans that are handed out at summer festivals. To feel connected with something so long removed is a very rare thing, I think, and so I count myself among a lucky few and try to appreciate it while I can.