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Published: February 11th 2008
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The story has all the elements for a Hollywood production: a good, noble guy who dies unfairly; a corrupt court official and cunning villain who is disliked by everyone but seems to be always ahead of the game; the good guy’s loyal subordinates who are totally determined to avenge their master’s death at whatever price, even with their own lives... In the end, the story has sparked the imagination and inspired the utmost respect from an entire nation for over 300 years.
During my years in Japan, I had heard the account many times and had passed very close to Sengakuji temple hundreds of times in my way to and from work on the Keihin-Tohoku Japan Rail line, but I had never taken the time to actually visit this national shrine. My opportunity to bring the story to life materialized today thanks to a last minute, shortstop in Tokyo on my way home from Beijing.
It is the story of Asano Naganori’s 47 loyal samurais, who after Asano’s wrongful death in 1701, became “ronin” or master-less samurai -- a very sad and undesirable state of affairs for samurais. For over a year after their master’s death, the ronin went
through incredible lengths and personal sacrifices to overcome Lord Kira Yoshinaka’s measures to prevent them from achieving their objective.
Their patient plotting finally came to a head during a cold December night in 1702, when they staged a raid on Lord Kira’s mansion. After several hours of fighting, they finally overcame Lord Kira’s own retainer samurai and found the villain hiding inside a coal shack. Though the leader of the raid, Oishi Kuranosuke Yoshio, gave Kira the opportunity to die honorably by his own hand, the spineless villain was a coward and was ultimately beheaded by Oishi.
The surviving ronin took Kira’s head to the tomb of their master at Sengakuji temple where they prayed and waited for the authorities to arrive. They were all sentenced to commit ritual suicide for the murder of Lord Kira and were buried next to their master.
Though all these men would be regarded as murderous criminals under any other context, they became instant national heroes in Japan because they acted out of un-compromised loyalty and in fulfillment of their duty.
The story of the forty-seven ronin actually comes to life as you walk through the serene environments of this
temple, built originally by the Asano family before the fateful events that made it famous. I reached the grounds by simply following a direction parallel to the JR tracks from the Shinagawa JR station and then turned left on an approach road that takes you up-hill to the complex’s entrance.
Once you are on the temple’s grounds, the approach path to the cemetery is to the left of the gate, which takes you past the place where the ronin prepared their final offering to their master and also past a museum that contains several artifacts and an audio-visual presentation that explains both the story and its historical context.
After crossing yet another gate (which was originally a gate to the Asano mansion), you reach the elevated plots where Asano, his family and the ronin rest. Every year on December 14 and 15 (the anniversary of the raid), the temple is totally crowded with visitors from all over Japan who come to offer their respects to these national heroes.
I have found many and often conflicting versions of the complete story on the Web, but perhaps the version that is the most consistent with the official records at
Ronin Resting Place
The tombs of the forty-seven ronin were carefully aligned close to the resting place of their master the Sengakuji temple and museum in Shinagawa-ku in Tokyo can be found at
“The Forty-Seven Ronin”.
From Shinagawa, I went to visit the old neighborhood, just to be able to report back to my family of any changes since we all left Japan. One of our favorite places for cool breaks from Tokyo’s hot and humid summers was Todoroki Park in Setagaya-ku. Unless you are in it, this little park is almost totally hidden from view but can be accessed from various points around Kampachi Dori and the Tokyu Oimachi line’s Todoroki station.
Visiting the park during a much colder February was not going to provide a fair comparison from what I remember of our summer visits, but aside from the temperature difference, I was happy to report that nothing has really changed. As soon as you walk down and follow the park’s trails and paths, the evergreen’s lushness and presence of various other underbrush plants beam you away from urban Tokyo into a much more natural setting.
The main feature at Todoroki park is the large water channel snaking through it. As most waterways in Japan, this channel is completely enclosed in concrete blocks to prevent mudslides
Entrance Gate
and Oishi-san's statue in the background (The leader of the 47) and just plain soil erosion during the rainy season, but even these blocks are now totally covered with various mosses, which take away the blocks’ man-made essence and transform them into something much more natural.
My stroll in the park was followed by a short visit to the area around Futako Tamagawaen station (on the same Tokyu Oimachi line). This was another area where my family spent a lot of time during our life in Japan, including my kids’ school: St. Mary’s International and the large Takashimaya department store, which was one of Elizabeth’s favorite stores in Tokyo. Friends of ours had told us that Tokyu Corporation was building their headquarters in the area and we were afraid that much was going to change as a result, but once again, I did not see any evidence of any changes.
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