Tachikawa History: The Samurai Clan Behind the City’s Name, a Walk

The medieval Tachikawa clan, whose name the city shares, left after 1590. Only their 700-year-old papers came home, in 2000. Battles, deeds and a dubious cult.

日本語で読む（Japanese version）

The name of the city of Tachikawa (立川) is written with the same characters as the surname of a family of warriors: the Tachikawa clan. In the Kamakura period (1185–1333), they made this land their base and took “Tachikawa” (also written 立河) as their name. Yet walk around today’s Tachikawa City and you will not meet a single household descended from them. The family that gave the city its name is not in the city.

Where did they go? As I dug, the story stretched in unexpected directions. To Mito and Hitachi-Ota in Ibaraki, to Iwatsuki and Konosu in Saitama. The Tachikawa clan scattered at the end of the Warring States period, and only the Kamakura-era documents handed down in the family came back to Tachikawa City, in 2000 (Heisei 12), from a descendant living in Hitachi-Ota. Paper written some 700 years ago returned to the land of the name.

There is another story even locals almost never know. Was the “Tachikawa-ryu,” a branch of esoteric Buddhism branded a “heretical cult” in the Middle Ages, born in Tachikawa, as its name suggests? Specialists working on the official city history investigated from 2016 (Heisei 28) and reached a conclusion. I will reveal it around the middle of this article. First, let’s go and meet the family that carried the city’s name.

Where the name comes from: the Tachikawa clan, warriors who took the place as their surname

Tachikawa Monogatari, the newsletter of the Tachikawa city-history project, opens like this: the name of Tachikawa City derives from Tachikawa-go, a Kamakura-period district also written 立河郷. The warriors who made this district their base and took it as their surname are the Tachikawa clan. The city’s name and the clan’s name are like siblings sharing the name of the same land.

That said, there are several theories about where the place name itself comes from. The city lists theories linking it to the flow of the Tama River, to a residence, or to fast rapids, and writes that none is conclusive (I covered that in this series’ “Tachikawa History” story). What I am following here is not the place name but the people who took it as their surname.

The Tachikawa clan descended from the Himatsuri clan. In issue 5 of Tachikawa Monogatari, Kamakura Saho, head of the ancient and medieval section of the city-history project, explains: the Himatsuri clan derives from the Himatsuri-be, groups placed in the capital and the provinces to perform rites for the sun god. The Himatsuri of Musashi settled in Musashi Province in the late 11th century, became officials of the provincial government, and grew into a warrior band.

Warriors emerged from a family that worshipped the sun. The clan spread along the Tama River and came to be called the Nishi-to, the “Western Band,” one of the so-called Musashi Shichito, the Seven Bands of Musashi. The origin of the name Nishi-to is not settled either. An encyclopedia lists three theories: that they lived west (nishi) of the provincial capital (today’s Fuchu City); that it is a reading of the hi in Himatsuri (日祀, “sun rites”); or that it comes from the “west” in Tasai-gun, the western half of Tama District. Multiple theories for the origin of a name seems to be a local Tachikawa tradition.

The clan branched out. The descendants of Munehiro, who was based at the Yui horse ranch, divided into houses using the surnames Tamura, Tsuchibuchi (in today’s Hino City), Tachikawa and Yui. The genealogy shows that the Tachikawa name began with Munetoki, probably around the end of the 12th century. The same Western Band also produced Hirayama Sueshige, who vied with Kumagai Naozane to be first into battle at Ichi-no-Tani in the Genpei War. So the Tachikawa clan were relatives of a celebrity of the great Genpei conflict.

There is a small surprise in the reading, too. According to an encyclopedia, in medieval times the name was mostly written 立河, and it seems to have been read “Tatekawa.” Today’s city is read “Tachikawa.” Call a Kamakura-era Tachikawa “Tachikawa-san,” and you might have received a puzzled look.

So what were these “Tatekawa” people doing in Kamakura? The clue lies in a New Year ceremony of the shogunate.

The man who drew a bow at Kamakura’s New Year: the Tachikawa in the shogunate’s records

The Kamakura shogunate’s chronicle, the Azuma Kagami, mentions a man named Tachikawa Motoyasu. In the genealogy he corresponds to Motoyasu (also written 職泰), younger brother of Tachikawa Tsunemitsu. The genealogy says the elder brother, Tsunemitsu, distinguished himself in the Hoji Battle of 1247 (Hoji 1), in which the Miura clan, powerful vassals of the shogunate, were destroyed. Tsunemitsu later took Buddhist vows under the name Saishin, and a document survives in which he transferred his lands in 1284 (Koan 7).

Kamakura Saho’s commentary gets interesting from here. It is known that the shogunate’s vassals of the time divided roles within a family, between those who served in Kamakura and those who managed the estates. The Tachikawa clan probably did the same: the elder brother Tsunemitsu ran the land in Tachikawa-go while the younger brother Motoyasu served at the shogunate. Elder brother at home, younger brother commuting to the capital. Seven hundred years later, plenty of people still commute from Tachikawa into central Tokyo every morning. The division of labour has not changed all that much.

There is one more: Tachikawa Hikotaro Shigeyuki. His name appears as an archer between 1316 (Showa 5, an era written 正和, not the 20th-century Showa) and 1328 (Karyaku 3) in the Omato Nikki, the record of the shogunate’s New Year archery ceremony. The yumi-hajime, the “first archery” of the year, was a rite of shooting at a target at the start of the New Year. Almost all the participants were retainers of the main line of the Hojo clan, the tokuso house that held real power. So Shigeyuki was the clan’s representative figure, serving the shogunate as a retainer of the Hojo main line.

For more than ten years, a man from Tachikawa stood before the target at Kamakura’s New Year. This is my favourite line in the whole story. From beyond the records I can almost hear the cold New Year air and the twang of the bowstring.

But the Tachikawa clan was not a monolith. The documents handed down in the family feature several people who do not appear in the genealogy. The most conspicuous of them was a woman.

The wife who bought up rice fields: a shogunate decree of 1318

The documents that the clan’s descendants carefully preserved are called the Tachikawa Documents (Tachikawa Monjo). According to the city, 14 have been confirmed, originals and copies combined, dating from 1222 (Joo 1) to 1424 (Oei 31). Apart from a single Muromachi-period document, all were written in the Kamakura period.

Nine of them concern one couple and their child: Tachikawa Hikoshiro Shigekiyo, his wife, of the Fujiwara family, and Tokuomaru, thought to be their child. In 1315 (Showa 4, 正和), Shigekiyo bought rice fields in Tsuchibuchi-go and had his ownership confirmed by the shogunate. His wife, the lady of the Fujiwara, also bought fields one after another in Tsuchibuchi-go, Tachikawa-go and Ogawa-go between 1318 (Bunpo 2) and around 1320 (Gen’o 2), each time obtaining the shogunate’s approval.

Let’s read one: a Kanto gechijo, a decree issued by the Kamakura shogunate, dated the 10th day of the 12th month of 1318. The signatures at the end are those of “Sagami no Kami, Taira no Ason,” that is, the regent of the day, Hojo Takatoki, and “Musashi no Kami, Taira no Ason,” the co-signing assistant regent, Kanesawa Sadaaki. The decree confirms and approves that the lady of the Fujiwara bought 9 tan of rice fields in Tsuchibuchi-go, about 9,000 square metres, together with two zaike, farm households with the fields attached to them.

The procedure was meticulous. On the 20th day of the 10th month, she bought the fields and households in perpetuity from Tsuchibuchi Goro Sadashige. On receiving the application, the shogunate checked the facts, and on the 12th day of the 11th month obtained a reply from the seller, Sadashige, stating, in effect, “There is no doubt that I sold it.” It further confirmed that the land was not a grant bestowed by the shogunate but private land that could be bought and sold, and then approved her ownership. A property registration bearing the regent’s name. For 9 tan of Tachikawa rice paddy, the two most powerful men in the Kamakura shogunate signed their names.

Even so, disputes arose. Over one more household she had bought separately from Sadashige, the seller himself later filed a suit claiming she had “seized it unlawfully,” and in 1329 (Karyaku 4) the sale was confirmed all over again. The very man who sold it came back later to complain.

Why did this family buy up land? Kamakura Saho draws attention to the fact that most of the sellers were from families of the Himatsuri clan: the Tsuchibuchi, Tachikawa, Ogawa and others. The vassals of the time were weighed down by the cost of guard duty against the Mongol invasions and were under pressure to raise cash. Perhaps land was bought and sold within the clan to prevent it flowing outside. And she writes that on the side of the lady of the Fujiwara, who sought the shogunate’s approval with every purchase, there seems to have been an active intention to accumulate land. The waves of the Mongol invasions had reached far enough to change the owners of rice paddies by the Tama River.

In the documents, Shigekiyo also calls himself “Shibasaki.” He is thought to have held Shibasaki, the centre of Tachikawa-go, today’s Shibasaki-cho. According to the city, the Tachikawa Documents are also the first sources in which the place names “Tachikawa” (立河) and “Shibasaki” (芝崎, later 柴崎) appear. The name of Shibasaki-cho, within walking distance of the station’s South Exit, first appears on this paper from 700 years ago.

The Tachikawa clan in numbers

• 1222 — The year of the oldest of the Tachikawa Documents. The year after the Jokyu War, a failed imperial revolt against the shogunate.
• 14 — The number of Tachikawa Documents confirmed (originals and copies combined). A city treasure, fourteen envelopes’ worth.
• 9 — Tan of rice fields in Tsuchibuchi-go bought by the lady of the Fujiwara in 1318. About 9,000 square metres, approved by the regent and his co-signer together.
• 2,000 — The number said to have died on the losing side at the Battle of Tachikawara in 1504. An unusually high toll for battles of the day.
• 1768 — The year the Tachikawa family serving the Mito domain was punished with banishment and died out.
• 700 — Roughly how many years since the Tachikawa Documents were written. Paper is far more patient than people.

The traveller’s detour quiz

In 2000 (Heisei 12), the Tachikawa Documents, dating back to the Kamakura period, were donated to Tachikawa City. Where did the clan descendants who had kept them for generations live?

• A　Mito, Ibaraki Prefecture
• B　Hitachi-Ota, Ibaraki Prefecture
• C　Konosu, Saitama Prefecture

The answer is revealed at the end.

The land of this meticulous family, however, could not stay quiet. In the 15th century, the riverbed at Tachikawa became the stage for the opening of the Warring States period in the Kanto region, and for one of its biggest battles.

The Battles of Tachikawara: where the Kanto’s age of war began, on the bed of the Tama River

The city’s timeline records two Battles of Tachikawara, the “Tachikawa riverbed,” in 1455 (Kyotoku 4) and 1504 (Eisho 1).

The first coincides with the start of the Warring States period in the Kanto (the region around Tokyo). At New Year 1455, the army of Ashikaga Shigeuji, the Kamakura kubo (the shogun’s deputy in the east), clashed with the army of the Uesugi, the Kanto deputies, at Bubaigawara in Fuchu. According to an encyclopedia, on the 21st day of the 1st month, Uesugi Noriaki, leading the Uesugi vanguard, fell into enemy hands on the riverbed at Tachikawara, just short of there, and was mortally wounded. Rescued by his retainers, he is said to have later taken his own life. This fighting set off the Kyotoku War, and its outbreak is taken as the start of the Warring States period in the Kanto.

The Kanto’s age of war began on the riverbeds of Fuchu and Tachikawa. Many people learned about the Onin War in their history textbooks, but a little before that, blood was already flowing on the bed of the Tama River.

The second battle was bigger. On the 27th day of the 9th month of 1504 (13 November by today’s calendar), an allied army of Uesugi Akisada of the Yamanouchi Uesugi and Ashikaga Masauji, the Koga kubo, collided at Tachikawara with an allied army of Uesugi Tomoyoshi of the Ogigayatsu Uesugi, joined by Imagawa Ujichika of Suruga and Ise Moritoki (the man later known as Hojo Soun).

The course of events, as an encyclopedia tells it, went like this. Around 8 a.m., the allied Ogigayatsu Uesugi, Imagawa and Ise forces crossed the Tama River and came up onto the riverbed at Tachikawara. Learning of this, the Yamanouchi Uesugi army rushed to the scene; the two armies faced off, fighting began around noon and continued until evening. The Yamanouchi Uesugi, having let the enemy cross the river, struggled, finally broke and fled. The dead numbered 2,000, an unusual toll for battles of the time, and well-known commanders were killed. Akisada is said to have barely escaped with his life to Hachigata Castle in northern Musashi.

So far, it is a winner’s story. But there is more. The victorious Imagawa Ujichika and Ise Moritoki withdrew to Kamakura on the 4th day of the 10th month as if nothing had happened, rested together at the hot springs of Atami, and then, it seems, held a memorial service for the war dead at Moritoki’s Nirayama Castle. Meanwhile, the defeated Akisada obtained reinforcements from Echigo and struck back. The following year, 1505 (Eisho 2), Uesugi Tomoyoshi, short of troops and unable to hold out, surrendered. After a great victory that left 2,000 dead, the winning commander conceded defeat within about half a year. The winning side’s allies went to the hot springs, and the winner himself surrendered the next year. In the Warring States period, it seems, victory and defeat were not decided on the riverbed.

Traces of the battle remain in Tachikawa today. The city-history project’s ancient and medieval section reports that it examined, within the city, a bronze shoko made to console the souls of those killed at the Battle of Tachikawara in 1504. A shoko is a metal percussion instrument struck during Buddhist chanting. Someone rang a bell for the people who died on the bed of the Tama River. That metal is still in the city more than 500 years later.

So where was the Tachikawa clan during the battles? In fact, nobody quite knows. According to the city’s commentary, the Tachikawa Documents break off in 1424, and no documents from the Warring States period survive. With the family’s movements out of sight, the Tachikawa riverbed was trampled by great armies. A decisive battle on the land that gave them their name, and the protagonists, the Tachikawa clan, are invisible in the records. History has gaps like this. The clues to fill them survived not in records but under the ground, and in homes in distant places.

Fusai-ji Temple and the Tachikawa clan residence site: what slept beneath the earthworks

The clue to where the family lived lies at Fusai-ji Temple in Shibasaki-cho. It is the Zen temple the Tachikawa clan founded as their family temple in 1353 (Bunna 2), and in its grounds stands the National Treasure six-sided stone pillar. I wrote about its history in this series’ “Fusai-ji Temple and Suwa Shrine” story, so here I want to talk about what lies beneath the temple’s ground.

The site of Fusai-ji is thought to be the site of the Tachikawa clan’s residence. After a fire in 1995 (Heisei 7) burned down the main hall and other buildings, excavations were carried out alongside the temple’s reconstruction, and several reports were published under the title Site of the Tachikawa Clan Residence. The 2000 report records that the medieval layers revealed earthen ramparts, dry moats, post-built buildings, a gate, wells and underground pits. The finds include celadon and white porcelain from China, Seto and Tokoname ware, kawarake (unglazed earthenware dishes), coins and fragments of itabi, flat stone Buddhist memorial slabs.

A residence enclosed by moats and earthen ramparts, with a gate, where people drank tea and sake from imported celadon. Little by little, the kit of a warrior’s life rises out of the soil. The same report also records that when the temple’s kitchen-quarters were rebuilt at the end of the Edo period, rekisekikyo, pebbles inscribed with sutra text and buried, were found. The ground of this temple holds layer upon layer of prayers from each era.

Then again, the report contains a chapter titled “A study of the reputed Tachikawa clan residence.” “Reputed” (伝) is a single character meaning “so it is said.” The very people who did the digging chose not to state flatly that this was the Tachikawa clan’s residence. An encyclopedia also introduces the view that Fusai-ji was originally somewhere else and moved to its present site after the Tachikawa clan declined. It seems too early to say anything for certain.

On a travel-review site, one visitor left a short report: “There is a high, raised area in front of the main hall.” I read it as the slightly proud line of someone who has found the remains of an earthen rampart. If you go to look, remember that this is temple ground, and walk quietly.

Shibasaki-cho, where Fusai-ji stands, long remained “the old town south of the station,” well into the Showa era. The city-history newsletter carries a small story that conveys the feel of that southern side in Showa times. In 1931 (Showa 6), a soba noodle shop opened at Tachikawa Station’s South Exit, where there were still few places to eat, and did roaring business. After the war, its owner expanded, and in 1965 (Showa 40) opened a Western-style restaurant in the basement of the new annex of the Tokyo Metropolitan Agricultural Hall, built in 3-chome Shibasaki-cho. At the planning stage, the menu listed six kinds of authentic “pizza,” topped with pepperoni, anchovies and so on. But because nobody knew what kind of dish it was, few people ordered it, and soon after opening it was dropped, becoming a “phantom menu,” the newsletter says. In Tokyo at the time, according to the newsletter, a bowl of udon cost about 50 yen and curry rice about 100 yen.

Back then, in a basement in Shibasaki-cho, there were six kinds of pizza nobody ordered. Today nobody has trouble finding pizza at the South Exit. The head chef of sixty years ago was simply a little ahead of his time. Thinking that, I find the slopes of Shibasaki-cho a little friendlier.

The temple itself did not escape unscathed. According to a local-history feature by Sumitomo Mitsui Trust Realty, Fusai-ji was caught in the fighting when Toyotomi forces attacked in 1590 (Tensho 18), losing most of its buildings and treasures. In that same year, the Tachikawa clan itself would be badly shaken. Before that story, I want to make a detour to the other “Tachikawa” that spread the name across the country.