
‘I scud before the autumn wind': Emperor Go-Daigo's fall from grace
The emperor was in flight, the palace besieged. It was Year 1 of the Genko Era, 1331 by today's calendar. The royal panic was ignominious, if heroism is the ideal. In the palace — 'the world above the clouds' — it was not. Poetry was. Poetry was divine, heroism merely human. Cowardice was no disgrace, fear no shame. Sad, yes — but sadness inspires poetry. 'When, sunk in despair / I scud before the autumn wind / I see colored leaves / red and yellow on a hill / I had never thought to visit.' This was the poem of the emperor in flight.
Last month we introduced Emperor Go-Daigo (1288-1339) and his bold but doomed revolt against the bakufu, the military government ruling in remote Kamakura while he reigned powerless in Kyoto, a sort of divine poet-in-chief. We must now seek a deeper acquaintance with that tragic figure, so discontented with his imperial lot, so determined to change it, so helplessly overwhelmed by real life in the real world below the clouds, so unexpectedly victorious for a time, so abruptly undone in the end by the very unbowed arrogance that had sustained him through it all. Dying in disgrace, would he have been cheered to know what a heroic figure history would make of him, in a very distant future, an age much closer to our own than to his, of fanatic patriotism, rabid nationalism and triumphant militarism? And what a villain it would make of his ultimate undoer, whose military and political genius shaped Japan's history for 500 years beyond his lifetime?
Go-Daigo came to the throne in 1318, a man whose immediate predecessors had all been children, a born ruler, as he thought, succeeding born puppets the bakufu could manipulate at will. He would break the mold. Just give him time. He would restore to Japan its divinity. Was he not a god himself? Were gods puppets? Were they not rather Japan's rightful rulers? They had been once and would be again — in his person and in those of his descendants.
Seven years into his reign, in 1325, he seized a chance he thought he saw. A contemporary chronicle titled 'Masukagami' ('The Clear Mirror'), composed apparently by a high-ranking courtier, name unknown, gives a vivid picture of what went on and what it all felt like. 'Two courtiers ... were arrested by the (bakufu), subjected to harsh interrogation, and placed under strict guard. According to rumor, it had all started when the emperor summoned the warriors with the intention of disrupting the peace. ... Faced with unspeakably dreadful rumors, and greatly chagrined by the premature disclosure of his plans, Emperor Go-Daigo felt eager to bring the affair to a quiet conclusion.' He sent an envoy to Kamakura. 'When (the envoy) stated in unequivocal language that the emperor had known absolutely nothing about the matters, the eastern warriors (the bakufu) backed down, rough barbarians though they were.' Calm was restored — for a time.
Seven years slipped quietly by; the 'Masukagami' shows us how (in a translation by George Perkins): 'In the spring of (1331), early in the third month, the emperor went to view cherry blossoms in the northern hills.' We're told who attended, what (depending on rank) they wore, who danced what, who played what instruments. Sonically and visually, it must have been lovely, beautiful beyond anything this vulgar age of ours can imagine. How could they know, these noble effete aesthetes, what history, that indefatigable dramatist, was so very soon to reveal: how sudden and rapid the fall is from the felicitous heights to the abject depths.
Ruin waited quietly backstage. Abruptly it stepped forward. 'Around the summer of that year,' the narrative continues, 'it was reported that the emperor was receiving medication for an illness. ... And just then, at the worst possible time, the military authorities took it into their heads to apprehend Toshimoto, one of the men they had arrested earlier. Toshimoto sought refuge in the palace, and a raucous band of warriors chased after him. ... Immense confusion ensued, with everyone in the palace agitated beyond measure. Someone went to report to the emperor, who was lying in bed semi-comatose, and he received the news with dismay.'
Toshimoto was seized and taken to Kamakura for interrogation. 'The emperor's displeasure with the shogunate mounted after his recovery. He resolved on immediate execution of the plans he had had in mind for some time.' Loyalist troops would seize Kamakura and power would be his. Secrecy was essential but bakufu spies were everywhere. Word got out. Bakufu warriors poured into Kyoto. Royal terror seized the emperor. He shed his imperial dignity and fled, 'riding in a shabby women's carriage. ... He wondered how this could possibly be happening. It was like a dream.'
A temple on Mount Kasagi, some 60 kilometers from the capital, offered refuge, its soldier-monks armed and ready but no match, as was soon clear, for the bakufu troops hot on the fugitive emperor's trail.
History and legend link Go-Daigo indissolubly with a guerrilla warrior of heroic breadth, Kusunoki Masashige (1294-1336), the Che Guevara of his time. During his brief interval of safety at the temple, the emperor had a dream. Heavenly children led him to a throne of cushions facing south under a tree. Go-Daigo understood at once. Combine the Chinese characters for 'tree' and 'south' and you get 'kusunoki,' camphor tree. Was there a warrior of that name in the vicinity? There was. Summoned, Kusunoki reverently pledged his strength, his skills and his life to the imperial cause. He was as good as his word, and shares with Go-Daigo the heroic resurrection history would confer upon them half a millennium later.
The villain in history's drama is Ashikaga Takauji (1305-58), leader of the bakufu forces sent in pursuit of the emperor once more in flight, this time from besieged Mount Kasagi. Chaos closes in. 'All too soon,' reports the 'Masukagami,' 'word came that warriors from the east' — Takauji at their head — 'were approaching in numbers so vast as to resemble banked clouds or dense haze. Panic ensued at Kasagi.' Temple buildings went up in flames, 'the smoke billowed close, leaving the emperor no option but to fare forth as best he could in shabby disguise. ... After traveling a short distance ... His Majesty fell into an alarming state of dejection on the unfamiliar mountain trail. ... Then, in a dreadful turn of events, a warrior came upon them and announced his intention of escorting him back to the capital.' The emperor was a prisoner.
Worse was to come: exile, to a remote little island in the Sea of Japan, one of the Oki Islands. This, for a year, His Majesty was forced to call home — he who had once reigned in a palace, a god! His poem suggests his hopelessness: 'Though I were to return / along this selfsame road / there is little chance / that I might see again / the flowering of springtime.'
'Don't give up hope,' history in effect whispered to him. History is a great dramatist and Go-Daigo a great character — yet sadly flawed, as we'll see when this story concludes next month. The supporting cast is great too, larger than life: Kusunoki, relentlessly active in the imperial cause, together with — surprisingly — the bakufu warrior Takauji. Brilliant but unstable, nursing resentments that demanded redress but got none, he abruptly abandoned the bakufu cause and declared himself an imperial loyalist. His Majesty's triumphant return to the capital, to rule this time as well as reign, eternally he thought, very briefly as we know, owes much to Takauji, as would the second imperial downfall three years later when Takauji turned against him and declared himself shogun.
This final act of the drama, from imperial victory to imperial undoing, opens in 1333, Year 1 of the Kenmu Era, and closes in 1336. History entitled it the Kenmu Restoration.
Michael Hoffman is the author of 'Arimasen.'

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The Mainichi
30-05-2025
- The Mainichi
Capsule bedrooms, transport tunnels: Kids offer disaster mitigation ideas at Osaka Expo
OSAKA -- From floating houses to transport tunnels, 10 elementary school students offered imaginative and unique ideas on disaster mitigation during presentations for an event at Expo 2025 Osaka, Kansai, at a venue in this west Japan city May 28. The "Kodomo Bosai Banpaku" (Children's disaster mitigation expo), a subevent of the Expo running through Oct. 13, was held by an IT firm based in the city of Osaka to explore disaster education and mitigation using cutting-edge technologies. In the elementary school students' division, children from the western Japan prefecture of Kagawa, including participants of a Kagawa University anti-disaster program for primary school students, thought of disaster prevention devices or systems that they wanted to see. They each had 3 minutes to explain their ideas while using illustrations created via AI chats. Their proposals ranged from tunnels to transport necessities -- inspired by the lanes at conveyor-belt sushi restaurants -- to floating houses that leave nature on the earth untouched. One of the students, Rinko Nishio, from an elementary school affiliated with Kagawa University, presented an idea for "Hachidori-go," a shelter in the form on an AI pet. In normal times the "pet" is looked after, but during an emergency, it transforms into a shape large enough to serve as a shelter during emergencies. Rinko came up with the idea while thinking about how to keep cats safe when evacuating, and explained, "I want everyone to evacuate together. I also presented it as a device that's usually like a game anyone can enjoy." Ema Ogawa, a student from a school in the Kagawa Prefecture capital of Takamatsu, proposed a capsule-type bedroom. In the event of a disaster, the user simply crawls into bed for safety. Ema commented, "I get scared easily, so I wanted a safer method than evacuating outside the house." Koudai Higuchi, a student from another school in Takamatsu proposed a seawater desalination system. Kagawa is prone to water shortages, and so Koudai came up with the idea of using seawater. "The key point is that it is powered by solar panels. We want to conserve water not only in times of disaster, but also on a daily basis," the student commented. Yoshiyuki Kaneda, a specially appointed professor at Kagawa University and head of the institution's research center on regional resilience, said, "I keenly sensed the children's wonderful potential. They're making speeches with the awareness that someday, they will do it themselves. It's important to be future-oriented while also utilizing the metaverse, among other things."


SoraNews24
05-05-2025
- SoraNews24
The SoraNews24 ice cream showdown: A frozen nine-way battle【Taste test】
We assemble an array of accessible frozen treats for a man with very vanilla tastes. When it comes to food, our Japanese-language reporter Go Hatori contains multitudes. On the one hand, his desire to broaden his palate and culinary skills is so strong that he's succeeded in getting fried rice recipes from two different online scam artists while they were in the process of trying to steal Go's money or identity. But on the other hand, he's got next to no first-hand experience with anpan, one of Japan's most popular baked-good sweets. So every now and again, we put together a selection of some of the tastiest treats to be found in Japan, with each member of our panel making a recommendation from a certain category for Go to taste, and today's theme is ice cream. We should start by explaining that Go (pictured above) doesn't dislike ice cream. It's just that he pretty much always eats the same kind, Lady Borden-brand vanilla ice cream, which he keeps stocked in his freezer at home. We've got a whole slew of other kinds for him to try, though, so let's take a look at the lineup and see if they can get Go to consider shaking up his ice cream-eating habits. ● Mr. Sato's recommendation: Kubota Ice Candy Strawberry Milk (216 yen [US$1.50]) 'You can only find this at stores that carry high-quality stuff, like the supermarkets attached to Isetan department stores or the Natural Lawson convenience store chain. It's made by the company Kubota in Kochi Prefecture, and the combination of rich milk and tart strawberries is hard to resist. For 216 yen, you won't find many other ice creams that are this genuinely tasty.' ● Ahiruneko's recommendation: Mow Vanilla (183 yen) 'I think I remember Go saying once that he likes Mow Vanilla, and I thought it'd be nice to suggest something that our readers can easily find at just about any supermarket or convenience store in the country.' ● Seiji Nakazawa's recommendation: Baskin-Robbins Happy Friends Panda Rum Raisin (450 yen) 'I think Go will like the strong contrasts in not just the flavors, but also the textures in rum raisin ice cream, even if they don't feel like the most obviously complementary combinations. Plus when I went to Baskin-Robbins to pick some up, I found out about the 'Happy Friends' option, which adds a topping of chocolate and whipped cream.' ● Masanuki Sunakoma's recommendation: Giant Cone Chocolate and Milk (214 yen) 'This is the one to pick for people who want a big contrast in textures. The chocolate is crisp as you bite into it, and the combination of chocolate with milky vanilla is a time-tested classic. Factor in the secret weapon of the crunchy almonds, and this can go toe-to-toe with even premium ice creams, and it's my personal favorite brand of ice cream to boot.' ● Yuichiro Wasai's recommendation: Taberu Bokujo Milk (248 yen) 'For someone like Go, who likes a straightforward creamy vanilla flavor, I thin he'll love Taberu Bokujo Milk [which translates loosely to 'Farm-fresh Milk that You can Eat']. Really, if that's what you're into, it doesn't get any better than this.' ● Mariko Ohanabatake's recommendation: Black Mont Blanc (200 yen) 'I don't know how well known it is in Tokyo, but Black Mont Blanc is the ice cream pride of Kyushu. The chocolate coating is covered in crumbled cookie bits for a crunch, and the deliciousness of the vanilla ice cream is something that anyone who's eaten it can sing the praises of. If Go doesn't pick this as the best of the bunch, he'll be making an enemy of everyone in Kyushu, and will never be able to set foot on the island again.' ● Takamichi Furusawa recommendation: Häagen-Dazs Vanilla (278 yen) 'I've heard that Go like Lady Borden vanilla, so I figured another premium-brand vanilla ice cream should be right up his alley.' ● P.K. Sanjun's recommendation: Chateraise Choco-baki Kajigon (108 yen) 'It's always hard to get a read on Go's tastes, since he likes both basic traditional stuff and bold surprises. He's kind of all over the place like that. For this time around, I'm guessing he wants something unique, so I'm going in with these vanilla ice cream bars with a super-hard chocolate coating, and putting my faith in the crunchy texture to win him over.' ● Yoshio's recommendation: Ohayo Brulee (397 yen) 'This is the brand of cream brulee ice cream from 7-Eleven. The caramelized sugar topping is nice and crunchy, and when you mix it together with the ice cream they taste great, and even smell great. It's also my kids' number-one ice cream recommendation.' Now, with the entrants assembled, it was time for Go to carry out his professional duty and eat a whole bunch of ice cream. ▼ Go: 'OK, I'm gonna start with the Giant Cone!' ▼ Go: 'Oh, yeah! This is really good! No two ways about it.' ▼ P.K. Sanjun: 'He's really going to town, isn't he? Not pacing himself at all.' ▼ Go: 'All right, time for the Kubota Ice Candy Strawberry Milk. Hmm…this feels more like the kind of thing to eat outside on a hot summer day.' ▼ Go: 'Ah, Taberu Bokujo Milk? This is the one that made a really big stir when they tarted selling it at Family Mart convenience stores, right?' ▼ Go: 'Häagen-Dazs? Don't mind if I do!' ▼ Mr. Sato: 'He's scooping up as much as he can with every bite…' ▼ Go: 'Oh, hey, I know this one too! Black Mont Blanc. Once you try it, you'll always remember the texture.' ▼ Masanuki: 'I mean, I know it's a taste test and all, but I didn't expect him to keep eating and eating them all after taking a taste.' Mariko: 'Shouldn't he be full by now? Where's he putting it all?' ▼ Go: 'I think I may have tried the Ohayo Brulee before. It's even better once it gets a little melty.' ▼ Go: 'Oh, wow, this Baskin-Robbins is awesome! And it's rum raisin? I never would have thought to order that flavor on my own.' So when Go had finished tasting (and eating quite a bit of) all nine entries which were his top three? He gives the third-place prize to 7-Eleven's Ohayo Brulee… …the second-place trophy to Baskin-Robbins Happy Friends Panda Rum Raisin… …and his pick for the overall winner is… …Häagen-Dazs Vanilla. In retrospect, perhaps we should have seen this coming. With Go always having Lady Borden vanilla ice cream in his freezer, it's clear that plain vanilla ice cream is exactly where his personal ice cream sweet spot is, so it makes sense that even when presented with more complex frozen treats, he still gravitated towards the one closest to his ideal of a straightforward rich creamy flavor. On the other hand, the fact that Go ate so much of the other entries, far beyond what he needed to establish a flavor profile for them, shows that they all have their own individual charms, and when the rest of the panel helped themselves to Go's leftovers, no one had any complaints, so you may need to follow Go's example and eat nine different desserts in one sitting to find the one that most speaks to you. Photos © SoraNews24 ● Want to hear about SoraNews24's latest articles as soon as they're published? Follow us on Facebook and Twitter! [ Read in Japanese ]


Japan Times
19-04-2025
- Japan Times
‘I scud before the autumn wind': Emperor Go-Daigo's fall from grace
The emperor was in flight, the palace besieged. It was Year 1 of the Genko Era, 1331 by today's calendar. The royal panic was ignominious, if heroism is the ideal. In the palace — 'the world above the clouds' — it was not. Poetry was. Poetry was divine, heroism merely human. Cowardice was no disgrace, fear no shame. Sad, yes — but sadness inspires poetry. 'When, sunk in despair / I scud before the autumn wind / I see colored leaves / red and yellow on a hill / I had never thought to visit.' This was the poem of the emperor in flight. Last month we introduced Emperor Go-Daigo (1288-1339) and his bold but doomed revolt against the bakufu, the military government ruling in remote Kamakura while he reigned powerless in Kyoto, a sort of divine poet-in-chief. We must now seek a deeper acquaintance with that tragic figure, so discontented with his imperial lot, so determined to change it, so helplessly overwhelmed by real life in the real world below the clouds, so unexpectedly victorious for a time, so abruptly undone in the end by the very unbowed arrogance that had sustained him through it all. Dying in disgrace, would he have been cheered to know what a heroic figure history would make of him, in a very distant future, an age much closer to our own than to his, of fanatic patriotism, rabid nationalism and triumphant militarism? And what a villain it would make of his ultimate undoer, whose military and political genius shaped Japan's history for 500 years beyond his lifetime? Go-Daigo came to the throne in 1318, a man whose immediate predecessors had all been children, a born ruler, as he thought, succeeding born puppets the bakufu could manipulate at will. He would break the mold. Just give him time. He would restore to Japan its divinity. Was he not a god himself? Were gods puppets? Were they not rather Japan's rightful rulers? They had been once and would be again — in his person and in those of his descendants. Seven years into his reign, in 1325, he seized a chance he thought he saw. A contemporary chronicle titled 'Masukagami' ('The Clear Mirror'), composed apparently by a high-ranking courtier, name unknown, gives a vivid picture of what went on and what it all felt like. 'Two courtiers ... were arrested by the (bakufu), subjected to harsh interrogation, and placed under strict guard. According to rumor, it had all started when the emperor summoned the warriors with the intention of disrupting the peace. ... Faced with unspeakably dreadful rumors, and greatly chagrined by the premature disclosure of his plans, Emperor Go-Daigo felt eager to bring the affair to a quiet conclusion.' He sent an envoy to Kamakura. 'When (the envoy) stated in unequivocal language that the emperor had known absolutely nothing about the matters, the eastern warriors (the bakufu) backed down, rough barbarians though they were.' Calm was restored — for a time. Seven years slipped quietly by; the 'Masukagami' shows us how (in a translation by George Perkins): 'In the spring of (1331), early in the third month, the emperor went to view cherry blossoms in the northern hills.' We're told who attended, what (depending on rank) they wore, who danced what, who played what instruments. Sonically and visually, it must have been lovely, beautiful beyond anything this vulgar age of ours can imagine. How could they know, these noble effete aesthetes, what history, that indefatigable dramatist, was so very soon to reveal: how sudden and rapid the fall is from the felicitous heights to the abject depths. Ruin waited quietly backstage. Abruptly it stepped forward. 'Around the summer of that year,' the narrative continues, 'it was reported that the emperor was receiving medication for an illness. ... And just then, at the worst possible time, the military authorities took it into their heads to apprehend Toshimoto, one of the men they had arrested earlier. Toshimoto sought refuge in the palace, and a raucous band of warriors chased after him. ... Immense confusion ensued, with everyone in the palace agitated beyond measure. Someone went to report to the emperor, who was lying in bed semi-comatose, and he received the news with dismay.' Toshimoto was seized and taken to Kamakura for interrogation. 'The emperor's displeasure with the shogunate mounted after his recovery. He resolved on immediate execution of the plans he had had in mind for some time.' Loyalist troops would seize Kamakura and power would be his. Secrecy was essential but bakufu spies were everywhere. Word got out. Bakufu warriors poured into Kyoto. Royal terror seized the emperor. He shed his imperial dignity and fled, 'riding in a shabby women's carriage. ... He wondered how this could possibly be happening. It was like a dream.' A temple on Mount Kasagi, some 60 kilometers from the capital, offered refuge, its soldier-monks armed and ready but no match, as was soon clear, for the bakufu troops hot on the fugitive emperor's trail. History and legend link Go-Daigo indissolubly with a guerrilla warrior of heroic breadth, Kusunoki Masashige (1294-1336), the Che Guevara of his time. During his brief interval of safety at the temple, the emperor had a dream. Heavenly children led him to a throne of cushions facing south under a tree. Go-Daigo understood at once. Combine the Chinese characters for 'tree' and 'south' and you get 'kusunoki,' camphor tree. Was there a warrior of that name in the vicinity? There was. Summoned, Kusunoki reverently pledged his strength, his skills and his life to the imperial cause. He was as good as his word, and shares with Go-Daigo the heroic resurrection history would confer upon them half a millennium later. The villain in history's drama is Ashikaga Takauji (1305-58), leader of the bakufu forces sent in pursuit of the emperor once more in flight, this time from besieged Mount Kasagi. Chaos closes in. 'All too soon,' reports the 'Masukagami,' 'word came that warriors from the east' — Takauji at their head — 'were approaching in numbers so vast as to resemble banked clouds or dense haze. Panic ensued at Kasagi.' Temple buildings went up in flames, 'the smoke billowed close, leaving the emperor no option but to fare forth as best he could in shabby disguise. ... After traveling a short distance ... His Majesty fell into an alarming state of dejection on the unfamiliar mountain trail. ... Then, in a dreadful turn of events, a warrior came upon them and announced his intention of escorting him back to the capital.' The emperor was a prisoner. Worse was to come: exile, to a remote little island in the Sea of Japan, one of the Oki Islands. This, for a year, His Majesty was forced to call home — he who had once reigned in a palace, a god! His poem suggests his hopelessness: 'Though I were to return / along this selfsame road / there is little chance / that I might see again / the flowering of springtime.' 'Don't give up hope,' history in effect whispered to him. History is a great dramatist and Go-Daigo a great character — yet sadly flawed, as we'll see when this story concludes next month. The supporting cast is great too, larger than life: Kusunoki, relentlessly active in the imperial cause, together with — surprisingly — the bakufu warrior Takauji. Brilliant but unstable, nursing resentments that demanded redress but got none, he abruptly abandoned the bakufu cause and declared himself an imperial loyalist. His Majesty's triumphant return to the capital, to rule this time as well as reign, eternally he thought, very briefly as we know, owes much to Takauji, as would the second imperial downfall three years later when Takauji turned against him and declared himself shogun. This final act of the drama, from imperial victory to imperial undoing, opens in 1333, Year 1 of the Kenmu Era, and closes in 1336. History entitled it the Kenmu Restoration. Michael Hoffman is the author of 'Arimasen.'