Pathway to Japanese Literature

What I will discuss is titled "Shrines in the Kinki Region."
The Kinki Region constitutes an area with an exceptionally large number of shrines—indeed, it contains the greatest concentration of ancient shrines.
To address them all exhaustively lies entirely beyond possibility.
Let me clarify that I have never conducted any systematic research on shrines as an academic discipline. Yet my modest interest in them dates back considerably—to when I first read the Dai Nihon Shoki Jingi-shi upon its publication. Within those pages, I discovered profound fascination in the occasional shrine-related investigations presented there.
Subsequently, through examining similar materials—particularly the diverse studies by Dr. Kurita, who compiled that very Dai Nihon Shoki Jingi-shi, along with other works—I gradually developed some scholarly interest in shrine research.
However, as this falls outside my specialization, I merely entertained such considerations some years past, and my inquiries have seen no advancement since that time.
I shall simply collect a few thoughts from those days and offer them here.

Recently, shrines have become quite a topic of public discussion—though I don’t know if you’re aware—and government offices haven’t missed a trick when it comes to commerce, with the Railway Bureau even producing a little booklet titled “Shrine Pilgrimage.” Since they had given it to me, I never even considered going out of my way to buy it. Upon examination—this being likely half a commercial venture even for the Railway Bureau—complaining from an academic standpoint would be futile, but their approach particularly resembles tourist guide material. It’s unclear whether they wrote this to foster reverence for shrines or simply as casual sightseeing notes for travelers passing by.When you look at it, though frontispieces appear devout enough inside mainly discuss matters like which locations are specially protected buildings or whether the scenery pleases or disappoints.Well, half of it serves sightseeing purposes.To be sure, faith arising from tourism would be ideal—but regardless people have come to pay shrines considerable attention this way.Alongsidethis topics like “Shrines and Ideological Issues” frequently surface.Touching upon ideological issues proves far trickier for me than shrine matters so I still prefer approaching this through my historical lens.Hence from my perspective many shrines may not inspire reverence.But at any rate I intend briefly share my thoughts regarding various studies by past scholars.

When considering ancient matters, the Kinki Region possesses not only shrines but also an exceptionally long historical span.
Even within Japan itself, there exists a considerable disparity in historical eras between the Kinki Region and the Tohoku Region where I was born.
As for Japan's creation, I cannot speak to its exact millennia.
It is conventionally reckoned as two thousand five hundred years.
Yet what might be called proper history in our native Tohoku Region stretches back only eight or nine hundred years at most.
Moreover, it remains questionable whether our region's name even properly appears in historical records.
Our history only became somewhat discernible almost entirely after the Nanboku-chō period.
Thus our region differs from the Kinki Region by two or even threefold in historical depth.
This very disparity means the Kinki Region bears historical developments layered upon one another within the same geographical areas.
Even when speaking of historical sites, they prove exceedingly troublesome—multiple events having accumulated at single locations.
Shrines too have naturally assumed such stratified forms.
Yet I believe this very quality constitutes what makes studying Kinki shrines most fascinating.

In connection with this matter, various thoughts had incidentally occurred to me regarding this very area. When speaking of grand shrines in the vicinity of present-day Kyoto, Kamo Shrine naturally comes first. However, considerable doubts arise when considering whether Kamo Shrine in its current location had always maintained its present grandeur and prosperity since ancient times. Examining its foundation myths—such as tales of the riverbank's pristine waters where the shrine deity's daughter supposedly did laundry or played, only to be impregnated by a vermilion-lacquered arrow that drifted downstream, or legends of her child breaking through a roof to fly away and become Matsuo Shrine—one might initially imagine this area having been dominated by Kamo Shrine from the very beginning. Yet thorough investigation suggested this was likely not entirely the case.

Within what are considered the precincts of Shimogamo Shrine exists a small Hiiragi Shrine. When consulting records like the Engishiki’s register of deities, this is identified as Izumoio Shrine. Though now reduced to a diminutive structure in a corner of Kamo Shrine’s grounds, whether it had always been so small remained an open question. While I did not believe we needed to stretch associations with Izumo as far as Izumo Province itself, there were indeed various place names and shrines prefixed with 'Izumo' throughout this vicinity.

In Kuwata District of Tanba Province stands what is called Izumo Shrine. Furthermore, extending into northern Kyoto existed shrines bearing Izumo-related place names likely connected to this tradition. In Yamahata’s northern area lay Takano Village, where Izumo Takano Shrine was said to have once stood—now transformed into Sudō Shrine. Researchers of shrine history had verified this connection through various studies.

The entire northern Kyoto area was traditionally called Izumoji Road, suggesting general ties to Izumo—though whether directly linked to Izumo Province remained unclear—leading one to conjecture that an Izumo clan might have established a stronghold there in antiquity. This naturally raised questions about how Kamo came to be associated with the area, though scholars believed other connections predated even this.

Personally holding no particular interest in Sudō Shrine itself—indeed seeing no inherent need for its investigation—I nevertheless developed curiosity through the discovery of Ono no Emishi’s tomb behind its mountain, where a bronze funerary epitaph had been unearthed. Researching this artifact gradually led me to contemplate various aspects of Sudō Shrine.

According to the Engishiki’s register of deities, what was called Ono Shrine had once existed in that area. Today’s Kamo Mikage Shrine in Takano Village—situated south of Sudō Shrine—was believed to represent its former state. Assuming this was indeed the original Ono Shrine implied historical connections to the Ono clan.

To trace these connections: Ōmi Province’s Shiga District contained an Ono Shrine, while Ono no Emishi—grandson of Imoko who traveled to Sui China during Prince Shōtoku’s era—marked the clan’s emergence into prominence from that period onward. Historically, the Ono clan traced their lineage through genealogical records back to Emperor Kōshō’s distant descendants.

Their ancestral shrine became established as Ono Shrine in Shiga District of Ōmi Province, and as the Ono clan gradually prospered, they expanded their domain across the mountains into northern Yamashiro Province, leading to tombs like that of Ono no Emishi being constructed behind Takano’s Sudō Shrine—or so I surmise.
When viewed through this lens, it appears to have occurred significantly later than when northern Kyoto was entirely under Izumo clan influence.
While Prince Shōtoku’s era—the time of Ono no Imoko—is well-documented, almost no records exist about the preceding Izumo clan; their presence can only be inferred through shrines.
Thus, northern Kyoto seems to have been Izumo clan territory during undocumented times before recorded history began. Around the dawn of historical records—near Prince Shōtoku’s era—it quietly came under control of the Ōmi-based Ono clan, after which Kamo clan influence emerged—this being the reasonable conclusion.
The Upper Kamo area may possess greater antiquity.
Given that Kamo’s Wakeikazuchi deity was born from Kamotaketsunumi-no-Mikoto’s daughter—as per legend—this could indeed date back far. Regardless, what began as a shrine deep in Kamo’s mountains gradually expanded through clan efforts, particularly after Kyoto became capital when major shrines gained imperial favor—whether deities specially revered by emperors or other prominent shrines rising in status.
In Yamato Province too, places like Tatsuta flourished precisely because Emperor Tenmu specially venerated them.
Though unclear why such reverence began, once emperors granted special status, prosperity inevitably followed.
Kamo Shrine similarly gained prominence through the capital’s relocation here.
The reasons for this reverence vary—too tedious to enumerate—but through gradual expansion, Kamo clansmen occupied northern Kyoto’s former Izumo territories. The original Izumoio Shrine deity was relegated to a corner while most grounds became Shimogamo’s precincts—yet per ancient custom, shrines revered by other clans weren’t wantonly destroyed.
In contemporary China’s case, revolutions see even venerable figures’ shrines demolished for new deities—but Japan’s gentler customs and fear of divine retribution preserved ancient sites intact.
Hence Hiiragi Shrine’s designation as landowner deity.
Originally occupying that site before later arrivals took over, they honored the former deity accordingly.
Similarly in Takano, Ono Shrine transformed into Kamo Mikage Shrine.
Thus the Kamo clan thrived into modern times.
Post-Heian shrine developments saw less clan conflict than Buddhist encroachment—temples supplanting shrines.
Mount Hiei exemplifies this.
As known, Mount Hiei houses Hiyoshi Shrine.
The large Ōhiyoshi and small Kohiyoshi shrines exist there—Kohiyoshi enshrining Ōyamakui-no-Kami, said to be Wakeikazuchi-no-Kami’s father at present-day Kamo Shrine. This deity became a vermilion arrow impregnating Kamotaketsunumi-no-Mikoto’s daughter.
That is Kohiyoshi—the original shrine.

However, when Dengyō Daishi opened that mountain, he brought his own revered deity and had it enshrined there.
That was the deity of Miwa in Yamato.
What was enshrined there as guardian became Ōhiyoshi Shrine.
As for the original Kohiyoshi shrine, they moved it down to the mountain’s base, but since it was an ancient deity, it remained venerated as the landowner god.
This was a twofold stratagem: rather than directly occupying shrine territories themselves, temples would instead bring deities from elsewhere to perform the occupation through these proxy gods—declaring them as guardian deities while maintaining control over those lands.
They employed this dual approach because such measures proved necessary when appropriating shrine territories at that time.
Through such transformations, from the Heian period onward Buddhist institutions came to dominate shrines, but by the Kamakura period samurai began seizing temple and shrine lands.
The samurai class maintained an exceptionally narrow scope of faith, transporting their revered deities wherever they went.
The Taira clan carried Itsukushima’s Benzaiten about with them constantly, while the Minamoto clan shouldered Hachiman shrines on their journeys.
Alternatively, they converted existing shrines into Hachiman shrines.
The Taira clan’s reign proved too brief for extensive Benzaiten conversions, but the Minamoto clan proliferated widely—transforming nearly all other shrines into Hachiman shrines.
Thereafter lawsuits gradually arose in Kamakura, giving birth to documentary records.
Most documents in our country originate from Kamakura-period lawsuits between temples and samurai clans—indeed these form our primary historical sources from that era onward.
Thus we clearly understand temple lands seized by samurai through these records, while earlier temple encroachments on shrines leave substantial documentation too—but no records exist from that primordial era when shrines invaded other shrines: when rising clans supplanted established ones by replacing their tutelary deities through conquest.
That age left almost no historical trace.
Today shrine remnants allow partial reconstruction of this lost history.
We discern patterns like Hiiragi Shrine lingering in Kamo’s corners as vestiges of ancient landowner deities, or how Kohiyoshi on Mount Hiei—originally maintained by Hiei clansmen—was later usurped by temples.
In essence shrine research—though outside my expertise as no specialist in national studies—serves historically to explain undocumented transitions.
This approach proves remarkably effective.
Therefore studying oral traditions or analyzing shrine distributions and lineages—I believe such methods greatly aid our understanding of antiquity’s deepest strata.

Moreover, in a country like Japan where shrines from the Age of the Gods have survived to this day—even if they have gradually transformed, with large ones becoming small and small ones growing large—there existed a custom of never destroying them outright, and since they continue to exist today, one might say we can discern the state of ancient times prior to when human history began to unfold through them.
In the history of China that we study, it was rare for relics—both old and new—to coexist as they do in Japan; though it was a country with abundant historical records, its ancient ones lacked reliability.
Therefore, while the state of antiquity had become largely unknowable there, Japan—though fortunate in that its era of written records might be recent—possessed shrines through which we could supplement that undocumented period, rendering it remarkably advantageous for studying national history.
For if one made even a slight error in methodology, one might end up committing grave errors indeed; thus this research demanded an extraordinary degree of meticulous care. However, provided that one’s methodological approach remained sound, ancient matters could be made abundantly clear through shrines.
Particularly since the Kinki region had been an area that began developing remarkably early—from eras predating written records—the condition of shrines within this region had become stratified in twofold or threefold layers. Therefore, I believed that by studying Kinki-region shrines, we could come to understand a great deal about Japan’s most ancient aspects.

This serves as a general introduction to what we call shrine research.

As I previously stated, when I read some books concerning shrines—not intending to conduct deep shrine research myself—I did not perform fundamental studies such as document analysis. I merely skimmed through others' research in a rather cursory manner, and through this examination of their work, certain questions arose—if I may call them that—but as I am no specialist, there was no need for me to resolve such matters, nor did I do so. Nevertheless, I wished to share various thoughts that had incidentally occurred to me regarding these topics.

One of these concerns deities that originated from foreign lands.
This had been researched by predecessors.
Ban Nobutomo’s *Barbarian Deities Study*—a work examining Kyoto’s Hirano Shrine—has been published through organizations like the Kokusho Kankōkai in modern times, so some of you may have encountered it, but I wish to share certain thoughts that occurred to me regarding this.

However, as I often emphasize—whether in shrine research or ancient studies—national studies were far more advanced before the Meiji period than after.
Post-Meiji developments proved negligible.
Even regarding shrine matters, pre-Meiji research demonstrated far greater meticulousness.
Subsequently, since entering the Meiji era and beyond, practitioners of such scholarship became exceedingly scarce—resulting not merely in stagnation but active regression across various publications.
Hirano Shrine exemplified this pattern; Ban Nobutomo’s investigation of Hirano Shrine constituted work of exceptional intellectual caliber.
It remains profoundly admirable.
When I observe contemporary scholars’ deliberations about the nature of Hirano Shrine’s enshrined deities, I cannot help but perceive a marked regression from Nobutomo’s insights.
Though not specifically about Hirano Shrine, there exists an extensive compendium called *Kojiruien*.
This work includes entries on state-sponsored shrines yet entirely omits any reference to Ban Nobutomo’s Hirano Shrine research.
While it reproduces five or six inconsequential lines from Nobutomo’s study, none of his essential arguments receive mention.
The text persists in obscurity by clinging to trivial ancient legends.
Not that this presents any particular problem—Hirano Shrine itself underwent numerous transformations over time and experienced significant decline during periods when imperial patronage waned.
In any case, medieval shrines bereft of protectors frequently devised independent survival strategies.
Even Ise Grand Shrine implemented autonomous measures when deprived of imperial support during that era; clan shrines similarly adopted expedients as their parishioners diminished.
Consequently, they employed various tactics.
As part of their self-sustaining strategies, shrines contemplated parishioner acquisition.
Hirano Shrine too reportedly enshrined eight clan deities—incorporating everyone from Minamoto to Taira—and engineered its structure such that virtually all noble families in Kyoto felt compelled to worship there.

Such measures were rather skillfully devised as survival strategies, and shrines during medieval times indeed carried out such practices.
Now then, regarding this theory of eight-clan deities that emerged during that period—when we examine how Hirano Shrine is conceptualized today—even what appears in books published by the Railway Institute proves rather slipshod.
Thus, despite a scholar of Ban Nobutomo's stature having conducted research through extraordinary diligence, it ultimately serves no purpose.
The instances of disregarding academic authority are egregious.

Now, to explain how Ban Nobutomo conducted his research: Hirano Shrine enshrined four deities—Imaki-no-Kami, Kudo-no-Kami, Kokei-no-Kami, and Hime-no-Kami.
In the Railway Institute's shrine visitation guides, it had become customary to state they did not know which deities were enshrined.
According to Ban Nobutomo's theory, this Hirano Shrine was what His Majesty Emperor Kanmu brought to Heian-kyō when establishing the capital.
The maternal lineage of Emperor Kanmu descended from the kings of Baekje.
King Seongmyeong of Baekje was the monarch who sent Buddhism to Japan during Emperor Kinmei's reign.
They were descendants of this king.
Therefore, these Imaki deities came to be regarded as gods of the Baekje royal house.
He concluded this Imaki deity was none other than King Seongmyeong himself; as for Kudo-no-Kami and Kokei-no-Kami—their identities remained unclear—but since Kudojinja Shrine had stood near Tatsuta in Yamato Province, they were transferred together.
Though Kokei-no-Kami ultimately did not originate from foreign lineage, it belonged to the maternal household shrine of His Majesty Emperor Kanmu's mother—the Empress Dowager—while Hime-no-Kami was identified as her maternal clan's deity.
Likely what we call Kudo-no-Kami—still referred to as *kudo* for hearths in my native region—was indeed a hearth deity; moreover, there existed a hearth god enshrined by the maternal family of Emperor Kanmu's empress dowager in Yamato Province, which they ritually transferred here.
Such was his reasoning.
In any case, among these deities, he determined Imaki-no-Kami could only be King Seongmyeong.
This remains profoundly fascinating, but since anyone may consult Ban Nobutomo's complete works through Kokusho Kankōkai publications for details, I need not elaborate further.
However, finding certain aspects of Ban's scholarship somewhat deficient, I wish to append additional observations.

Ban concluded that Imaki-no-Kami was a place name in Yamato. Since Kudo can be found in various locations as well, it too was regarded as a place name. However, in the Yamato region there existed what was called Shinkan [New Han] or similar terms; this "Shin" [new] refers to a certain clan that had newly arrived from foreign lands—a tribe that had just settled—hence they were called "Imaki" So-and-so, originally written with the characters for "now-arrived," leading me to think that "Imaki" is not a place name. Because there was a newly arrived tribe, the term "Imaki" came to be used as a prefix. Therefore, regarding what we call Imaki-no-Kami, there is no need to consider "Imaki" as a place name in Yamato; since they were newly arrived, this signifies a deity that came from foreign lands.

Now regarding Kudo: it appeared that even Nobutomo had read Korean texts but ultimately failed to notice this point.
In my considered view, I believe it enshrined the ancestors of King Seongmyeong.
This refers to there having been a considerably influential king associated with Baekje's founding.
In Korea's oldest historical text, the Samguk Sagi, Baekje's ancestral king was recorded as King Onjo.
Several generations later came King Sogo, then King Gusu.
During these two rulers' reigns—Sogo and Gusu—the kingdom of Baekje greatly expanded, after which kings bearing the prefix Geun ("近")—King Geunchogo and King Geungusu—emerged, under whom it prospered once more.
In any case, the era of Kings Sogo and Gusu marked Baekje's significant development.
Regarding this King Gusu: while called Gusu in the Samguk Sagi, Japan's Shinsen Shōjiroku recorded him as "Kishu-ō."
It was also written as "Intai Kishu-ō."
Though the meaning of "Intai" remained unclear, I suspected some connection to Onjo.
Putting that aside, this King Gusu held immense significance in Baekje history.
There were instances where Korean texts wrote Gusu ("仇首") with an added radical, rendering it Gudo ("仇道").
According to Chinese historical records like the Later Zhou History and Sui History, Baekje's founding was attributed not to Onjo but to a man named Gudo.
Originally sharing ancestry with Goguryeo through Buyeo, Baekje branched off during this separation under Gudo's leadership.
He was thus established as Baekje's founder.
Tracing further back, Goguryeo shared ethnic origins with Buyeo, whose king list included one named Ugu-tae.
The character Wei ("尉") was not part of his personal name.
In Han-era China's administrative system, commanderies were governed by governors whose jurisdictions were subdivided under chief commandants, while counties had commandants.
Ugu-tae meant "Chief Commandant Gu-tae" or "County Commandant Gu-tae"—indigenous peoples near China's borders then considered such titles prestigious enough to adopt them honorifically.
Similarly in Japan, though titles like Left Gate Watchman were low-ranking court positions, rural warlords during the Kamakura period proudly adopted names like "[Name] Military Watchman."

Since prefixing the character 'Wei' (尉) was considered an honor, they appended it to their names—thus the name became Gu-tae. In the Samguk Sagi, it is also written as Utae, but I take this to be a contracted pronunciation of Ugu-tae. In any case, there has long existed the account that a man named Gutae founded states in both Buyeo and Baekje. Those bearing this name continued to appear frequently even in later eras whenever great kings emerged. In essence, both Kushu and Kudō shared the same pronunciation—what I believe was "kudo". Moreover, Gutae being read as "kudo" stems from how the character '台' is pronounced 'to' in works like the Nihon Shoki. Thus Gutae (kudo), Kushu (kudo), and Kudō (kudo) all share this pronunciation; through some phonetic relationship they also resonate with Kishu or Kisu—but ultimately, I consider them all variations of "kudo". According to histories transmitted in Korea today, they merely state that Onjo was the founding ancestor and King Gusu a mid-period ruler who accomplished great deeds—yet Chinese historical accounts still regard Gutae as having been a magnificent founding king. Since Kushu equates to Kudo—and Kudo being an immensely significant deity—the lineages of King Seongmyeong and Emperor Kanmu’s Empress Dowager revered Kushu just as they did King Seongmyeong himself; I maintain this later came to be written as "Kudo" in Japanese pronunciation. This must indeed have been a king of Baekje.

Next, regarding what we call Kokei—even Ban Nobutomo struggled with this deity.
I too find this deity somewhat challenging to handle.
Even whether this constitutes Kokei remains questionable.
Ban Nobutomo’s theory leaves uncertainty whether the character should be read as 開 (kai) or 關 (kan).
The existence of kana-annotated versions reading *Furuaki* established this interpretation while perpetuating ambiguity about its true nature.
I therefore wish to propose several alternative theories.
My intention is to examine the aspect of "Kokan."
Though it may seem irreverent toward the gods, I nevertheless wish to pursue this inquiry.
Whether we consider Ko and Kan as a unified entity or separate components presents no particular difficulty.
There exist precedents where two figures were conflated into one or a single entity divided into two.
In Japan’s Shinsen Shōjiroku, what we call King Gusu appears as Intai Kishu-ō—a conflation where "Intai" corresponds to Onjo—whereas Korean histories treat Onjo and Gusu as distinct figures.
I maintain we need not forcibly unify Kokan into a single entity.
This leads us instead to analyze them as separate components.

"The term 'Ko' [ancient] is one I frequently mention, but Korea's ancient legends contain two traditions regarding their nation's founding ancestor—one that considers 'Furu' and another that asserts 'Tōmei.'"
This was particularly intriguing.
To explain the 'Furu' interpretation first, Korea's extant historical records mention a King Piryu as the elder brother of Onjo.
These brothers' lineages showed contrasting fortunes—the elder's line died out while the younger's thrived.
While this account pertains to Baekje, Goguryeo's legends trace their entire lineage to King Dongmyeong.
The name Dongmyeong underwent various phonetic transformations, appearing as Zou Mou or Ju Mong.
Though these variants belong to Goguryeo's tradition, in Baekje's context this became 'Tomo.'
All these were fundamentally identical.
The Tōmei tradition itself branched into multiple forms.
In Baekje they used 'Tomo,' while Goguryeo's people employed 'Tōmei,' 'Sōmu,' or 'Shumō.'
In Japan, the 'tsuchi' in Ōyamatsumi no Kami and the 'wani' in Watatsumi represented homophones with identical meanings.
We also call Ōyamatsumi 'Ōyamakui,' and since the Japanese term for 'corner' (*sumi*) corresponds to Korean *kubi*, I consider these semantically equivalent.
Ultimately, Korea's foundation myths reduce to whether ancestors belonged to the 'Tomo' (i.e., Dongmyeong) lineage or the 'Furu' lineage.
Regarding Furu specifically, Korea's ancient histories record a King Haeburu in Buyeo Kingdom whose son obtained a woman through whom emerged Dongmyeong—Goguryeo's king.
Though an intriguing myth exists about Dongmyeong founding Goguryeo, I shall omit it here.
The 'Hae' in Haeburu, like Goguryeo's 'Go' and Silla's 'Kim' or 'Geon,' served as honorific prefixes meaning 'great.'
The core semantic element remained 'furu' (old).
This pattern appeared in Goguryeo, Buyeo, and Baekje alike.
In Silla's case, they referred to their founding king as Hyokkosei.
Written with these Chinese characters, its pronunciation—recorded in Korea's historical text *Samguk Yusa*—is given as 'Furikunai.'

This precisely signified that the character 赫 corresponded to 弗 ("furu"), and while the rationale for 矩 remained unclear, the character 世 was read as uchi in ancient Korean.
In other words, Furikunai represented Hyokkosei phonetically in Korean.
If we interpreted this character 赫 as furu in ancient parlance, then even Silla's founding king Hyokkosei bore this term at the head of his name.
When applying this principle to Japan, the hi in Amaterasu Ōmikami's title Ōhirume no Mikoto corresponded to furu.
All carried connotations of radiant brilliance.
In Korea they referred to the sun as furu.
This signified luminous qualities.
The foundational ancestor was either Piryu from Buyeo or Dongmyeong/Jumong—in any case, among Manchuria-region founding legends from Korea northward, the first king was either Dongmyeong or Piryu.
Since all ancient traditions maintained this theory, we could state that the ko in Kokan derived from this furu.
Then what of kan?
We attributed this to King Sogo.
The Shinsen Shōjiroku alternatively recorded it as Sokko.
Both Shōko and Sokko corresponded to sai—sharing meaning and linguistic form with Manchu jaha and Japanese kan (barrier).
As King Sogo was renowned for establishing Baekje, we assigned him the character kan.
Admittedly if we distinguished Old King Sogo from Recent King Sogo—given Manchurian fu-o for ko—we could interpret Kokan as Old King Sogo and resolve him as a single monarch.
In conclusion—Imaki-no-Kami, Kudo-no-Kami and Kokei-no-Kami were all Korean kings; this was how I wished to present it.
My theory held firmer grounding than Ban Nobutomo's baseless claim identifying Kokei with Ōeda clan deities—the maternal kin of Emperor Kanmu's empress dowager.
If one could contrive even minimal plausibility, foundation existed.
Whereas Ban left matters unresolved through non-intervention, I considered my avoidance of such irresolution an achievement.

With that framework established, I wished to conclusively resolve Hirano Shrine's current status through this analysis.
While interpretations of Himegami prove convoluted—a term I render provisionally as princess deities—any ancient shrine beyond its two or three principal kami inevitably includes numerous such female divinities.
In ritual practice across both Japan and China alike—for such matters transcend cultural boundaries—the enshrinement has always fallen to women.
These priestesses would later themselves become enshrined as deities through inevitable processes of veneration.
These constitute what we call princess deities; unlike Ban Nobutomo's needlessly elaborate theorizing about them—requiring no such speculative excess—the core truth lies in three principal entities all being Korean divinities; this forms my proposed resolution.
While I considered this an advancement beyond Ban's work—a progression he failed to achieve—it grows increasingly obscure when measured against contemporary shrine priests' understanding; still I must insist these custodians progress intellectually—at minimum reaching Ban's early nineteenth-century standards.
Should they regress further still from even that modest benchmark—a prospect both dismaying and all too plausible—our field risks profound impoverishment.
Thus did I undertake this contrived theoretical construction.

There is another shrine in the Kinki region called Hyōzu Shrine.
This had long been a conundrum that perplexed scholars.
The principal one among these was located in Shikinami District, Yamato Province.
In Shikinami District stood both the Anashi-sumi Hyōzu Shrine and another named Anashi Ōhyōzu Shrine.
This pair likely constituted the primary sites.
Others were said to be scattered throughout the region; according to Ban Nobutomo's examination of the Engishiki's Register of Deities, significant concentrations existed in Yasu District and Ika District of Ōmi Province, along with the Idate Hyōzu Shrine in Shikama District of Harima Province bearing the prefix "Idate."
The Idate Hyōzu Shrine at Hiromine in Harima was reputedly the origin point for Kyoto's Gion Shrine through ritual transference.
The term "Idate" could be rendered through various characters—such as 射楯 or 伊太氐.
Conventional interpretations identified these shrines with Ōkuninushi no Mikoto or Yachihoko no Kami—deities of martial prowess.
Though numerous theories attributed the name Hyōzu ("Military Lord") to these warlike aspects, all serious scholars acknowledged the frailty of such explanations.
Hyōzu Shrines had curiously failed to develop as centers for weapon worship upon reaching Japan.
Instead, they universally transformed into deities of sustenance.
The notion that Yachihoko no Kami or Ōkuninushi no Mikoto explained their origins had been recognized as untenable by researchers for generations.
I too propose to classify these as foreign deities.
This divinity arrived in Japan far earlier than Baekje's gods, during that undocumented epoch when records were nonexistent—making definitive assertions challenging, yet my analysis conclusively identifies it as foreign.
All scholars know the Treatise on Feng and Shan Sacrifices from the Records of the Grand Historian.
This text chronicles various Qin and Han period deities, noting that when Qin Shi Huang journeyed to Qi—the modern Shandong region under discussion—he encountered eight indigenous gods worshipped there:
First: Heavenly Sovereign; Second: Earthly Sovereign; Third: Military Lord; Fourth: Yin Sovereign; Fifth: Yang Sovereign; Sixth: Lunar Sovereign; Seventh: Solar Sovereign; Eighth: Sovereign of Four Seasons.
This Military Lord formed the foundational deity.
I wish to examine how this deity came to Japan and became established as Hyōzu.

In Izumi Province as well, there existed a shrine called Anashi; in the Register of Deities, Hyōzu Shrine was written adjacent to Anashi, forming two entries—in any case, even in Izumi Province’s Register of Deities, one could discern that Anashi and Hyōzu had been related.
In the area called Anashi of Yamato’s Anashi-sumi Hyōzu Shrine—which might be considered the progenitor of these shrines—there existed a place called Yuzuki-take.
It was my intention to bring forth this "Yuzuki" for consideration.
Yuzuki referred to the prominent Hata clan in Japan, though the Hata clan claimed to be descendants of Qin Shi Huang.
During the reigns of Ōjin and Nintoku, there had been an immense population—though we cannot know whether it numbered in the hundreds of thousands—but a certain record stated that they brought with them the populations of 127 counties and naturalized.
They were an exceedingly large clan.
As for the supposed descendants of Qin Shi Huang, there had been no mention of them in Chinese records. However, after the thirteenth generation from the First Emperor, there was a person called Xiaowu Wang; he had a son named Gongman Wang, who in turn had a son called Yuzuki Wang.
This Yuzuki Wang was referred to as Yuzuki Ō in the Shinsen Shōjiroku, while in texts like the Nihongi, he was called Yuzuki no Kimi.
The fact that Hyōzu Shrine was situated at a place called Yuzuki-take might, I suspected, have been related to this Yuzuki no Kimi.
On the other hand, the "ana" in Anashi was equivalent to "aya".
This term referred to China.
"[This] referred to 'Han.'"
"There existed a theory that 'aya' referred to 'Han weaving'—that is to say, it came to be called 'aya' because they wove twill fabrics—but this actually inverted cause and effect. I thought it more likely that from the sound of the character 漢 [Han], both the 'aya' in Han weaving and the 'aya' in twill fabric had emerged."
Might it not have been that the presence of Hyōzu Shrines in areas like Anashi or Yuzuki-take indicated settlements where Han people once resided and enshrined the deity they brought? As for this deity becoming one of food—this stemmed from their having introduced sustenance such as rice from foreign lands, which then became deified.
From such considerations, I thought that the Hyōzu Shrines in Anashi might have brought over the Hyōzu Shrine from China’s Shandong region.
The Hata clan of Japan claimed to be descendants of Qin Shi Huang, but these genealogies could not be relied upon.
The Eight Gods of Shandong were ancient deities that had existed since time immemorial.
Therefore, during that period, their tribe had migrated to Japan, but it was inconceivable that they did not bring their own country’s deities at that time.
The enshrinement of the Eight Gods varied by region; the Solar Sovereign was today enshrined at Chengshanjiao in Shandong.
As it lay at the eastern edge of Shandong and directly faced the direction of the sunrise, the Solar Sovereign was enshrined there.

The Heavenly Sovereign referred to Linzi, the capital of Qi State, where people enshrined it. In Linzi existed what they called Tianqi Yuan, which they worshipped. The character 齊 in Tianqi shared its form with 臍 (navel), signifying "heaven's navel"—a concept they regarded as the celestial center. According to Qi's legends, the state itself constituted China's navel at the world's midpoint, leading them to believe heaven's navel resided in their capital. Several springs gushed there, collectively named Tianqi Yuan. Regional variations characterized these enshrinement practices, with the Hyōzu deity being most venerated in western Shandong.

Even today, Shandong people remain those who willingly emigrate from inland areas to Manchuria and beyond. These migrants ventured to Manchuria and foreign lands. Might not those ancient Shandong immigrants who reached Japan via Korea have originated from inland Shandong—gradually becoming the Hata clan? Since they had worshipped the Eight Gods in Qi State, could they have brought those deities here?

When examining Japan's Shinsen Shōjiroku genealogies listing "descendants of such-and-such clan," one finds that Chinese clan influence had significantly waned by then—with figures like Han's Gaozu rising from commoner to emperor—while Japan intensely revered clan status. Foreigners without established surnames faced outcast treatment akin to eta, prompting immigrants to fabricate elaborate pedigrees claiming descent from Han Gaozu or Qin Shi Huang while touting specialized skills, thereby securing clan status and favorable treatment.

Particularly, Hata households excelled at sericulture and weaving—skills that became hereditary professions bringing great privilege—though Qi region records like the Yugong already documented such textile traditions. Thus all immigrants possessed some technical skill, and by presenting questionable genealogies, they attained prestigious clan status in Japan.

Though their Qin Shi Huang lineage remains unverified, might those claiming such ancestry—who brought their clan's Hyōzu deity—have settled in Japan and propagated Hyōzu Shrines across regions? Therefore, one cannot outright deny Hyōzu's martial associations.

There exist Idate Hyōzu Shrines and Idate Shrines, though Japanese tradition largely associates these with Susanoo and Isotake no Kami—fierce martial deities believed to manifest as Idate Shrine. As for connections between Susanoo-no-Mikoto and China's Hata clan, that matter falls within Dr. Kida's purview; pursuing it further would encroach on his domain, so I shall refrain.

Ultimately, Hyōzu Shrines derived their name not from Yachihoko no Kami but through phonetic adoption since Engishiki times—eschewing complex archaic Japanese terms specifically for these shrines. This suggests they were called by their Chinese pronunciation because they originated from China.

Therefore, I would like to include this among the deities that came from foreign countries.

These two pertain to deities that came from foreign countries; however, there exists another deity found in great numbers throughout the Kinki region that relates to Japan’s supremely august deities. As this matter has not been sufficiently examined until now, it remains difficult for me to render definitive judgment; nevertheless, I wish to present this issue for consideration.

When speaking of Japan's most exalted deity, it was Amaterasu Ōmikami.
In the Engishiki, this was simply recorded as the Grand Shrine in Watarai District of Ise Province, without any mention of "Amaterasu."
Yet there existed a relatively large number of shrines in the Kinki region bearing the two-character prefix "Amateru."
The primary question was whether anyone had ever seriously considered whether these bore any true connection to the Grand Shrine.
From Yamashiro Province's perspective, there stood nearby what was called Kijima-suma Amateru Mitama Shrine—also known as Kijima Myōjin.
This deity proved rather refined—Japan possessed a famous work titled *The Dwelling of Playful Immortals*, an early Chinese import that would likely face obscenity charges if published today. When this text arrived during Emperor Saga's reign and scholars struggled to apply proper reading marks for interpretation, Kijima Myōjin had manifested as an elderly man and taught its reading method to a scholar named Iji.
A legend persisted that this was how *The Dwelling of Playful Immortals* gained its reading marks—truly a deity not to be taken lightly.
Furthermore, Yamato Province contained two similar deities.
In Shikiagata District stood what was called Oda-suma Amateru Mitama Shrine.
Then in Shimoshimo District existed Kagamitsukuri-suma Amateru Mitama Shrine.
In what was now Kawachi Province—where exactly?—there remained what had been called Amaterasu Ōmikami Takakura Shrine in former Takayasu District.
Settsu Province's Shimoshimo District housed Araya-suma Amateru Mitama Shrine, while Tamba Province's Amata District contained Amateru Tamano-mikoto Shrine.
Ibo District of Harima Province featured Ibo-suma Amateru Shrine—such examples abounded.
These constituted the general extent of such cases.
Though similar Amateru Shrines existed elsewhere, I thought it best to limit discussion to these examples for now.
The fundamental issue remained unclear—which deity was actually being enshrined here? Resolving one aspect inevitably complicated another.
This deity's relationship—or lack thereof—to Amaterasu Ōmikami remained profoundly ambiguous.
Were these connections fully understood, one might perhaps apply some logical framework to ancient historical explanations—but I found myself unable to reach such conclusions.
I simply wished to note that directing attention to such matters remained possible.
Dr. Kurita had authored *Shingishiryō* before compiling *Shingishi*, conducting research between these works—yet he treated this matter with relative simplicity.

While acknowledging that only the Amaterasu Ōmikami Takakura Shrine in Takayasu District of Kawachi enshrined Takamimusuhi no Mikoto among these, he had dismissed all others as simply venerating Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto. According to the Kujiki, Honoakari no Mikoto’s name was recorded as Ama Teru Kuni Teru Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto, and thus he had resolved all matters with this explanation. Among all clans that once flourished in this Kinki region, the largest had been the Owari clan. Though Owari Province contained no shrine called Amateru Mitama Shrine, the Mamakita Shrine indeed enshrined Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto. He had conclusively determined that all these Kinki-region shrines were ancestral deities of either the Owari clan or houses sharing its lineage.

Dr. Kurita maintained various inventive theories. For instance, while the Kujiki contained genealogical records of ancestral lines for both Owari and Mononobe clans—valuable materials for ancient studies—Dr. Kurita perceived their entangled presentation and methodically disentangled their genealogies. Though debatable whether this approach was sound, he skillfully separated them in his treatise: establishing the Owari clan as descendants of Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto, and the Mononobe clan as descendants of Nigihayahi no Mikoto.

In the Kujiki version where both clans appeared conflated as descending from a single deity, Dr. Kurita’s methodological feat lay in clearly distinguishing them—assigning Ame no Hoakari’s lineage to Owari and Nigihayahi’s to Mononobe. Ancient history tends to resolve itself when approached with proper methodology; those employing rigorous methods generally prevail.

Therefore I wished to examine this Amateru Mitama through similar methodological rigor, but my scholarly limitations prevented it. Excessive methodological zeal risks creating new complications. Applying uniform analysis across cases revealed Kijima Myōjin as relatively insignificant—traditional theories identified it merely as Ame no Hinokami no Mikoto, offspring of Takamimusuhi.

Dr. Kurita appeared determined to equate Amateru Mitama entirely with contemporary Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto, rejecting traditional theories in favor of identifying it as Honoakari no Mikoto. Yet local legends persisted that this shrine enshrined Amaterasu Ōmikami.

Regarding the subsequent Oda-suma Amateru Mitama Shrine in Shikiagata District of Yamato, Ban Nobutomo posited it enshrined Amateru Nigihayahi no Mikoto—ancestral deity of the Shiki Clan. The next shrine, Kagamitsukuri-suma Amateru Mitama Shrine, maintained a longstanding identification with Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto.

However, since descendants of Nigihayahi no Mikoto became the Kagamitsukuri clan, this contradicted Dr. Kurita’s theory—if Kagamitsukuri were indeed Nigihayahi’s descendants, his clear distinction between Owari and Mononobe lineages grew increasingly tenuous.

In any case, it had become established that the Kagamitsukuri clan once enshrined this deity. The Araya-suma Amateru Mitama Shrine in Shimoshimo District of Settsu Province had been definitively identified as venerating Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto under Dr. Kurita’s theory. However, this shrine maintained three divine seats, with only one among them traditionally recognized as Amaterasu Ōmikami according to local lore. Legends in that region suggested Empress Jingū enshrined Amaterasu’s spirit after returning from the Three Korean Kingdoms campaign—though this ultimately remained unverified. Regarding the Tamba Province shrine in Amata District, Dr. Kurita’s theory carried particular weight, given the established lineage linking Tamba’s provincial governors to the Owari clan as descendants of Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto. It should be noted that two Tamba clan lineages existed—one claiming descent from Emperor Ling of Later Han—but since this lineage resided with the provincial governors, there appeared no risk of foreign appropriation. At minimum, the connection to Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto stood on firm ground. Matters grew most complex at Ibo in Harima Province. The Ibo-suma Amateru Mitama Shrine was locally called "Ise Shrine" and situated in Ise Village. While its potential link to Ise Grand Shrine seemed plausible, contradictory evidence emerged from the Sandai Jitsuroku records documenting the Ifukube clan’s presence here—an individual from Ibo District bearing the Ifuku name. The Ifukube clan, alternatively written as Iokibe, traced descent from Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto. It would be appropriate to conclude that local clansmen enshrined this deity.

Moreover, when we examined current place names, there existed a location called Ise Village, and one could also consider a connection to Ise Shrine. In any case, such exceedingly intricate shrines existed in several locations throughout the Kinki region and its surrounding areas—while Yamato Province had two of them, nearly every major province contained at least one shrine bearing the characters "Amateru" in its name. Viewed from one angle, they appeared connected to the Ise Grand Shrine; viewed from another, they seemed unrelated to it and instead connected to Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto. In places such as Tamba Province, there existed a narrative stating that Amaterasu Ōmikami came to be there because Yamatohime no Mikoto and others brought her there when carrying her through various provinces. In any case, shrines in the Kinki region bearing the characters "Amateru" remained shrouded in such uncertainties—whether they had connections to the Ise Grand Shrine or instead enshrined Ame no Hoakari no Mikoto, the ancestral deity of the Owari clan—it remained impossible to determine. When conducting this research—in essence, since the Owari and Mononobe clans had flourished in this region before Emperor Jimmu’s entry into Yamato Province—if even a modest amount of definitive research on these clans were conducted, we would gain considerable understanding of their circumstances during that period. If the relationship with the Ise Grand Shrine were clarified somewhat further, then the progression from Emperor Jimmu’s arrival in this land to the present imperial family’s full governance of this region could be understood through the conditions of each shrine. Therefore, I believed this warranted extensive research; however, I naturally possessed none of the requisite materials for this, nor did I entertain any notion of undertaking national history studies henceforth to gather materials and conduct such research. If one did not conduct this research, then even if people mindlessly advocated merely worshipping the gods as they did nowadays, we would never truly understand how this land came to submit to the divine authority of the Ise Grand Shrine. It was my belief that if those engaged in national studies or shrine priests were to conduct some research into such matters, it would prove beneficial; hence, I presented this issue here. As I did not necessarily possess a conclusion on this today, I merely presented the issue and stopped there. Such various questions still existed in great number when reading works like *Shingishi* or *Shingishiryō*, among others; I merely presented here a portion of those relating to the Kinki region.

(Lecture at the History and Geography Joint Study Society, August 1919)