
Tondabayashi City, located in the south of Ōsaka Prefecture, gives off a rather rural impression, considering its location within the Ōsaka metropolitan area, the second largest metropolitan area in Japan. Compared to Chihaya-akasaka Village, the sole village in Ōsaka Prefecture, located in its southeastern corner, it still has more buildings — but of course, Chihaya-akasaka is a village rather than a city, so the rural impression remains.
In the city, there is a building with a particularly strong impact - the PL Tower. Its official name is the Great Peace Prayer Tower — well, even more officially, the Non-Demoninational Great Peace Prayer Tower, Cenotaph for the Victims of War of All Nations. Non-Denominational — regardless of religious belief; Great Peace Prayer Tower — a tower built as a prayer for world peace; Cenotaph for the Victims of War of All Nations — built in the name of all who have died as a result of all the wars in the history of the world. Standing at a height of 180 meters on a hill against the backdrop of Tondabayashi, where tall buildings are few, it is visible from almost anywhere with a good view of the surroundings. Compared to Tsūtenkaku, an iconic landmark of Osaka standing at 108 meters, and the Umeda Sky Building, famous even outside Japan, with a height of 173 meters, it is a surprisingly tall building. 173 meters… and come to think of it, that building is also rather strangely shaped.
The tower was constructed by the Church of Perfect Liberty, or the PL Kyōdan, a new religious movement founded in 1916. Owing to the Japanese government's policy of State Shintō at the time, it is said that the PL Kyōdan diverged from Shintō, but in reality there are very few elements of Shintō in their creed, even though the language they use and the style of their funeral rites mimic their Shintō equivalents.
Their activity centers around Tondabayashi, but they are well-known throughout Japan through PL Gakuen, a school run by the group, whose baseball club makes regular appearances at the Kōshien, the Japanese National High School Baseball Championship, and the PL Art of Fireworks, held on the first of August every year. The PL Art of Fireworks is particularly famous in Kansai, and it is said to be the largest firework show in the world; its finale consists of an 8000-strong simultaneous star mine, which for a moment lights up the night sky as bright as day, and ironically for a religion that values peace rivals an air raid in ear-shattering loudness. Despite the sheer volume of the fireworks, they're fired continuously with no regard for the smoke they produce. In parts of Minami-kawachi District, there was a rumor that if PL Gakuen's baseball club lost in the championships, the amount of fireworks would decrease — or something like that.
Every year on August 1, people come to Tondabayashi in droves to see the fireworks. Members of the PL Kyōdan get front row seats to the fireworks, but considering that they also end up the closest to the thundering finale, it must also be quite a burden for them. Of course, the PL Art of Fireworks started in accordance with the will of their first leader, or Patriarch.
The shape of the PL Tower was based on a shape made out of paper clay by the PL Kyōdan's second Patriarch, Tokuchika Miki. The religion's core tenet is that "Life is Art" — the PL Art of Fireworks, too, stems from this emphasis on art. The PL Tower, which stands in the middle of a quiet residential town, is certainly not an ordinary structure. Though it is visible for miles around, strangely enough, the locals don't seem to pay it much mind, to the point where it's almost as if they forget it exists. Perhaps it's because it's just there, not really playing any role in their daily lives, so they unconsciously end up ignoring it?
Non-believers are allowed up to the second floor to pay respects. It seems that believers get to go up to the middle portion, but the upper reaches of the building are off limits due to wear and old age.
The windows, empty holes in the side of the tower, look like the gills of a lamprey if you squint, and the whole thing looks like some sort of Lovecraftian space creature. The official story is that the intent of the sculpture is to be an arm pointing up at the sky, to signify that "the truth is one". But to me, I think of it as a big "fuck you" sign to all of existence. That's why I like it.
From Kintetsu Railway's Tondabayashi station, I took the Kintetsu-Nagano Line two stations towards Osaka Abenobashi to reach Furuichi station, the main station of Habikino City and the oldest station currently operated by Kintetsu Railway. Though the area is not as rural as Tondabayashi, it's still fairly rural. The name Habikino — "feather-pulling field" is said to come from the legend of Yamato Takeru; after he died, his soul is said to have turned into a great white bird and flew across Japan, finally falling to the ground here where the feathers on his wings were dragged.
I set off for the Konda Gobyōyama Kofun, ten minutes' walk from the station.
The name Konda Gobyōyama Kofun is the academic name; the Imperial Household Agency calls it the Ega no Mofushi no Oka no Misasagi. Buried there is the fifteenth Emperor of Japan, Emperor Ōjin; as such, it is also known as the Mausoleum of Emperor Ōjin. The second largest keyhole-shaped kofun after the Daisenryō Kofun — or Mozu no Mimihara no Naka no Misasagi as it is known by the Imperial Household Agency — built to entomb Emperor Nintoku, it is part of the Mozu and Furuichi Kofun Cluster, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Emperor Nintoku was the sixteenth Emperor of Japan, and the son of Emperor Ōjin.
Emperor Ōjin was a name given by later generations; his name during his lifetime was Hondawake no Mikoto, so perhaps his original name was pronounced something like Homudawake1. Even so, the title of Tennō — "Emperor" — was created in the later Asuka period so as to claim the monarch of Japan to be on equal standing with the Emperor of China. Before that, the monarch of Japan was referred to as Ōkimi.
Next to the kofun is Konda Hachimangū, a shrine to Yahata-no-Kami2, who is the deification of Emperor Ōjin. The story is rather complicated, but Yahata-no-Kami was originally the family deity of the Usa clan, a wealthy clan of toraijin, and so likely originated in China or Korea. This story was somehow combined with the story of Empress Jingū's conquest of the Three Kingdoms of Korea, and then the story of the Emperor in the Womb, in which Emperor Ōjin was promised the throne while still in the womb of the pregnant Empress Jingū. With the construction of the statue of Vairocana Buddha at Tōdai-ji, and Dōkyō's attempt to usurp the throne through the oracle of Usa Hachimangū, the deceased Emperor Shōmu made Yahata-no-Kami known also as Hachiman Daibosatsu, the Buddhist guardian deity.
Although in Buddhism it is believed that deities are beings trapped in the cycle of reincarnation just like humans, and that through practicing Buddhism they can become bodhisattvas, the deities in this case are actually the Indian devas, and not the kami of Japan, and that the term "god" or "deity" in Buddhism refers also to kami is doubtful.
As Yahata-no-Kami is the deification of Emperor Ōjin, who was himself the ancestor of even today's emperors, he is one of the imperial deities of Japan, just like Amaterasu. In particular, he is to the warrior class as Amaterasu is to the royals and nobles, or so it seems; warriors took a strong liking to him as their patron god and set up shrines to Yahata-no-Kami throughout Japan. In fact, in terms of the total number of shrines to a deity, Hachiman is second only to Inari. In fact, if you only count large shrines, Hachiman is first.
Whether the earliest emperors really existed is quite heavily debated. In any case, it is generally considered that from the twenty-sixth emperor — Emperor Keitai — onward, the historical Emperors of Japan were real people. Emperor Keitai is, according to legend, the fifth-generation descendant of Emperor Ōjin. After the Second World War, when the taboo on imperial historiography was lifted, the general consensus was initially that Emperor Ōjin was the first real emperor, nowadays the consensus is that the from the tenth emperor — Emperor Sujin — on, there is a good chance that the emperors were all real people. The eight emperors from the second — Emperor Suizei — through the ninth — Emperor Kaika — are known as the Kesshi Hachidai, "eight generations lacking historical record", because nothing save for their genealogy is recorded in the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki.
Even so, I don't think it would be particularly strange even if they did exist. There wouldn't be much to write about someone who just ruled the area around Katsuragi.
The first large kofun constructed at the start of the Kofun Era was the Hashihaka Kofun in Sakurai City, Nara Prefecture, but it is said that it is the tomb of Princess Yamato-Totohi-Momoso, the daughter of the seventh emperor, Emperor Kōrei. It is said that she had some qualities of a shaman, or Himiko, a figure appearing in the section on Japan in the Treatise on the Eastern Barbarians of the Book of the Later Han. Whether the Yamatai-koku that Himiko hailed from was actually read Yamato and whether it was really related to the Yamato Kingship is a difficult topic, but it seems like a natural explanation nonetheless. After all, this part of history is one that historians tend to argue about, and it is rather difficult for a layman to get involved.
The Konda Gobyōyama Kofun is a large keyhole-shaped kofun, but if you look at the picture you'll find that it's indistinguishable from a hill when you look at it from the ground. Though it's said to be shaped like a keyhole, you wouldn't be able to tell unless you get in a helicopter and look at it from above. This is one of the problems with promoting kofun as tourist attractions — the pyramids of Egypt look like pyramids no matter how you look at them, but it's hard to see the keyhole shape close up.
A kofun is just a giant, ancient tomb. Unlike the pyramids of Egypt that were initially built in the deserts in the middle of nowhere, in Japan, kofun just take up space in the middle of cities. There might not be a more extravagant use of land than this — even so, you often hear about construction work destroying kofun here and there.
The pyramids were also tombs, and you often hear about archaeologists encountering "the curse of the pharaoh" or something like that, even if in reality there's no evidence for such a thing. But you never hear about a "curse of the emperor" associated with the Konda Gobyōyama Kofun.
And you never hear about an Emperor of Japan getting cut up in a videotape or the tombs of future emperors, either.
From Furuichi station, it's a slow train ride along the Kintetsu-Minami-Ōsaka line in the direction of Kashihara-jingū-mae. After Komagatani, I arrive at Kaminotaishi station. From there, it's a fifteen-minute walk to Tsuboi Hachimangū.
Tsuboi Hachimangū is known for being the clan shrine of the Kawachi Minamoto clan.
The Kawachi Minamoto clan is a branch of the Minamoto clan, which was bestowed by the Emperor. The Minamoto clan is known as a clan of samurai, with descendants including the heads of the Kamakura and Ashikaga shogunates. Other clans such as the Takeda, Imagawa, Hosokawa and Satake clans of the Sengoku period also descend from this clan.
The Minamoto clan clashed with the Taira clan in the Genpei War3, in which the Taira clan — more specifically the Taira clan based in Ise — fought the Kawachi Minamoto clan — in the words of that time, the Genke, or House of Minamoto. It is said that the Hōjō clan, who held the real power in the early days of the Kamakura shogunate, were descendants of the Ise Taira clan — but the details are unclear.
The Kawachi Minamoto clan was, as their name suggests, based in Kawachi Province, and descended from Minamoto no Yorinobu, the third son of Minamoto no Mitsunaka, who formed Settsu Province with his band of samurai. His first son, Minamoto no Yorimitsu, is the founder of the Settsu Minamoto clan, famous for his role in the legend of Shuten-dōji.
Though the Kawachi Minamoto clan has plenty of famous samurai, the most pertinent is possibly Hachimantarō Yoshiie.
Hachimantarō was not his real name, of course, but it is a strange moniker nonetheless. It comes from the fact that his genpuku — his coming-of-age ceremony — was held at Iwashimizu Hachimangū, hence Hachimantarō, "eldest son at Hachiman". His younger brothers, Minamoto no Yoshitsuna and Minamoto no Yoshimitsu, are known as Kamo-jirō, "second son at Kamo", and Shinra-saburō, "third son at Shinra", because they had their coming-of-age ceremonies at Kamo Shrine and Ōtsu Miidera Shinra Zenjindō, respectively.
A military commander active in the later days of the Heian period, his life straddled times of regency government and cloistered rule, and despite the political turmoil his military prowess was unparalleled. Though it was already common in the Kamakura period, samurai in the Heian period learned to fire arrows from horseback as a basic skill. The idea of a cavalryman clad in full body armor shooting a Japanese wakyū — the largest type of bow in the world — surely inspires awe even today. The name Komagatani literally means "valley of foals" — it was a place where horses were bred.
Tsuboi Hachimangū is a shrine to Yahata-no-Kami, but on its premises is Tsuboi Gongensha, where the heads of the Minamoto clan — the founder, Yoshinobu; the second head, Yoriyoshi, the third head, Yoshiie, as well as Yoshitsuna and Yoshimitsu, are venerated. In the Meiji period, other shrines, like Ishimaru-jinja, Takeokami-jinja, and Asukabe-jinja were merged into Tsuboi Hachimangū.
After the establishment of the Kamakura shogunate, the Kawachi Minamoto clan's head shrine was moved to Tsurugaoka Hachimangū in Kamakura. From the Nanbokuchō period through the Sengoku period, Tsuboi Hachimangū fell into disrepair. The current main hall was reconstructed much later by the fifth shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi.
The Kawachi Minamoto clan, just like the Taira clan they defeated, fell to the sands of time. Sic transit gloria mundi, as they say.
Issho-kenmei一所懸命 — to devote one's all to protecting a place. I went there expecting to find something, but the best I could find were graves. No spectral entities to be found.
I don't mean that they disappeared. They were never there to begin with.
Once again, I board a Kintetsu train, this time from Kaminotaishi back to Furuichi, and then back to Tondabayashi station, where I get off.
Though Tondabayashi is the holy site for the PL Kyōdan, compared to Tenri City in Nara, where the headquarters of Tenrikyō, another new religious movement, are located, you don't really get the feeling that Tondabayashi is a religious site. Of course, Tenrikyō is on a completely different scale, but the PL Kyōdan doesn't really have the strong willpower to completely change the scenery of a place.
… Even though the PL Tower is right there.
You can see it all the way from the station. Though it's tempting to walk all the way there, the height of the tower makes it seem closer than it really is, and it's easy to get yourself lost in the maze-like residential streets. Rather, I take a Kintetsu-operated bus towards the PL Tower, and get off at the station in front of the PL Hospital to continue on foot. The closer I get to the massive avant-garde artwork, the more extraordinary it feels. I saw a post online that said it was like a mid-game mountain dungeon in an RPG. Now that I see it up close, it certainly seems like it.
Even if you're not a believer, with the exception of Wednesdays and the days of and before PL Kyōdan observances, you can enter to worship between 10 am and 4 pm, and you don't even need to pay an entrance fee. The area around the tower is also a good place to watch the cherry blossoms.
Even so, I couldn't see a single other person there. Not a tourist, not even a worshipper.
There are plenty of sculptures and other works of art decorating the surroundings and interior. After that, visitors are taken up to the second floor by an attendant to pray. You can pray however you want.
They didn't even ask me to join the PL Kyōdan.
Well, the strange, out-of-place PL Tower is just a cenotaph after all.
The keyhole-shaped Konda Gobyōyama Kofun, tomb of an ancient ruler revered even today, is just a forest surrounded by a moat.
And the Tsuboi Hachimangū, shrine of the samurai clans who controlled much of Japanese history, is now just a little rural shrine.
In this world, things that we call "anomalous" don't exist.
They have never existed in the past, and will never exist in the future.
There are only people who imagine a world where they do.
The Foundation, the GOC, the Serpent's Hand, the Sarkic Cults,
JOICL, Tou-Hei, Dark Sushi, the Mujin Getsudō-shū, none of them exist.
And for the fact that this world we live in is not filled with the unexplainable, I shed a tear.












