So, I took a long overdue trip this week, out to the western reaches of Honshu Island here in Japan. In fact, I visited the charming—if quite remote—town of Soja just west of Okayama. “Why?” You might ask … and don’t feel bad, several of my Japanese associates have already done so. The reason was the usual one for me, to visit a site of rare historical significance in Japan, Ki Castle or Kinojo.
Now, to fully frame this trip, and help you to understand, perhaps, my own brand of obsession with such things, Kinojo lies at the end of a significant journey from the outskirts of Tokyo where I live. To be precise, an hour on local trains to Yokohama, followed by four hours on a pair of bullet trains to first Osaka and then Okayama, then another forty minutes by yet another local train to Soja and, finally, a precarious thirty-minute taxi ride to the trail head leading to the castle. It was a long couple of days … but so worth it!
You see, Kinojo is one of the original masonry castles in Japan. Following the withdrawal of Yamato forces from the Korean Peninsula—after a failed attempt to prop up its ally Baekje in 663 A.D.—the Emperor Tenji ordered twelve castles be built on Kyushu and Western Honshu to forestall a potential invasion by the Silla-Tang alliance, a threat that never developed. These plans were carried out with the help of a number of stone-masons and castle builders from Baekje who fled their homeland to escape life under the Silla and Tang. It was in this manner that the first masonry fortifications in Japan—forerunners to the incredible Sengoku Jidai castles that draw so many visitors today—were constructed.
Instead of following the defeated Yamato army and its trail of Baekje refugees home to Kyushu, Silla and Tang turned north and knocked out Goguryeo, the third of Korea’s independent kingdoms, in 668. Then, when the threat to Japan might have seemed at its worst, Silla and the Tang fell out and in a series of military campaigns, the Koreans slowly ejected the Chinese from the peninsula, securing a unified Korean state for the first time in history by 676. Alone, and needing to defend the northern border, Silla was no longer strong enough to threaten Japan and the two states settled on peaceful terms. But by that time, Emperor Tenji’s castles had already been built.
Thus, Kii and Ono Castles, a pair of stone fortifications guarding Dazaifu near modern-day Fukuoka, were constructed in 665, to further augment the rammed-earth and timber fortress of Mizuki built there in 663. Kaneda Castle was constructed on Tsushima Island in 667 along with Takayasu Castle near the future capital of Nara, and Yashima Castle on Shikoku. Kikuchi Castle in the hills above modern Kumamoto, was designed and built in 698 as a logistics hub to support the castle network on Kyushu. Other castles are mentioned in the Nihonshoki, but those locations have yet to be found. Regardless, by the year 700 A.D., in addition to the rammed-earth and timber fortifications that had for four centuries served the defensive needs of Japan’s elite, a number of stone mountain fortresses now graced the countryside.
Visiting as many castles and fortifications over the years as I have, the influence these original Baekje stone masons and castle builders had at the time is easy to see. The whole concept of defense was different between the two nascent states, from a multi-layered, point defense of a small area protecting a lord and his retainers, to a single layer fortification providing a massive area within, to which villagers could retreat to avoid attack. At places like Kinojo—a single wall studded, originally, with gates and towers—one can easily contrast the purpose and design with those fortifications of Japanese origin. This makes them endlessly fascinating sites for the purpose of better understanding how Korea and Japan historically interacted over the two millennia of their relationship.
To help provide that contrast in full, on this trip I stopped by Osaka on the way, ostensibly to visit the castle there, but also to enjoy the local cuisine. Osaka Castle, originally built by none other than Toyotomi Hideyoshi himself in 1582, is at the complete opposite end of the developmental spectrum for Japanese castle design and construction. All the more so as the current version of the castle includes upgrades ordered by the Tokugawa Shogunate in 1620 after Ieyasu ruined Hideyoshi’s creation with cannon during a famous siege in 1615. Thus, Osaka Castle is the epitome of the finished, fully developed, Japanese Castle … and it’s incredible!
Multiple expansive moats, some of the highest, thickest walls I’ve ever seen, everything about Osaka Castle screams “I’m in charge!” And that seems to have been Hideyoshi’s intent as by 1583 he was on the verge of forcing unification upon all the disparate clans. He would consolidate his hold over central Honshu 1583-84, seize all Shikoku in 1585, and all of Kyushu the following year. The final act was the destruction of the mighty Hojo Clan at Odawara Castle in 1590, by which time all of Japan owed him allegiance. Osaka Castle thus represents the Alpha and Omega of the Toyotomi Clan as it was built during their assent and destroyed at their fall in 1615.
A hundred and ninety-five kilometers, and nine hundred years, separate these two Japanese castles making for a fun comparison between them. All the more so visiting one the day after the other! Yet in doing so you get a real sense for how the human mind works. How we literally stand on the shoulders of those who’ve gone before us to achieve ever greater accomplishments. Seeing the original stone walls at Kinojo, topped as they seem to have been with rammed-earth and timber battlements, one can only wonder in amazement at their development into the incredible walls and elegant citadel of Osaka and other Sengoku castles across Japan.
I discussed the development of the Japanese castle in my most recent article for Medieval Warfare Magazine, but this trip sort of wrapped it all up in a tidy, castle-obsessed bow and, as usual, I wish we could have stayed longer. As well, this trip pointed out once again just how close the Japanese and Korean peoples once were, something that’s easy to forget given the nature of today’s relationship between the two nations. Once upon a time, the Korean Kingdom of Baekje was Japan’s only ally in all the world, and the two peoples shared an awful lot. Including, it would seem, the technological basis for Japan’s most enduring, and perhaps popular, historical icons.
M. G. Haynes