Hikone Castle

Listen to the gravel under your shoes. It crunches with every step as the path climbs between walls of grey, uneven stone. Pine branches lean over the slope. Somewhere below, a crow calls across the moat. And above you, half hidden by the trees, a small white tower waits at the top of the hill. This is Hikone Castle. Take a breath here. The climb is steep, and the castle was built to make you feel exactly that.

First, a fact that surprises many visitors. Japan once had well over a hundred castle towers. Most were torn down in the late nineteenth century, or destroyed by fire and war. Many towers you see in Japan today are modern concrete copies. Hikone is different. Its keep is original, built in the early seventeenth century. It is one of only five castle keeps that Japan has named a National Treasure, the country's highest cultural rank.

The castle belongs to a turning point in Japanese history. In the early seventeenth century, the Tokugawa family had just won control of the country. They needed loyal allies to guard the roads to Kyoto. The Ii family received this land. The Ii were close supporters of the Tokugawa, and their founder was one of the most trusted generals of that era. His son began building the castle here, on a hill beside Lake Biwa, the largest lake in Japan.

The builders worked fast, and they worked thriftily. According to long tradition, they took stones, timber and even whole buildings from older castles in the region and carried them here. Locals say the keep itself came from a castle in the town of Otsu, at the southern end of the lake. So the tower above you may be older than the hill it stands on, in a sense. It was a recycled fortress, assembled for a new age.

As you climb, look at the walls beside you. The stones are rough and unshaped, fitted together without mortar. This is a building style called gobo-zumi, named after a long burdock root. Large stones are pushed deep into the earth, like roots, with smaller ones packed into the gaps. It looks loose. But this method helped the walls flex during earthquakes. Run your eye along the curve, and notice how the lines bend gently upward.

Soon you reach a long wooden building that crosses a deep, dry cut in the hill. This is the Tenbin-yagura, the balance-scale turret. Its name comes from its shape. A central gate sits in the middle, and two wings stretch out evenly on each side, like the arms of an old weighing scale. Look closely at the two wings. They are not quite identical. That small imbalance is one of the details many visitors walk past without noticing.

The bridge in front of the turret had a clever purpose. In wartime, defenders could destroy it. Attackers would then face a sheer drop and a wall of stone. Walk under the gate, and the path turns sharply. These turns were deliberate. An enemy army could not rush straight in. They had to slow down, turn, and stand exposed to arrows and gunfire from the walls above. Every corner here was a small trap.

Now the keep comes into full view. It is smaller than you might expect. It has three storeys, and it is far more compact than the great keep at Himeji. But look at the roofs. They carry an unusual variety of gables. Some are triangular, some curve upward in soft waves, and some flare like the brim of a hat. Below them, the windows have a bell-shaped top. Together, these details give this small tower an elegant, layered face.

If you go inside, take off your shoes and hold the handrail. The wooden stairs are extremely steep, almost like ladders. Samurai climbed them in armour. The floors are dark, polished timber, worn smooth by centuries of feet. Look up at the heavy beams overhead. Many are rough and slightly crooked, cut from whole trees and left in their natural shape. Small hatches and openings in the walls were placed for archers and gunners.

At the top, the view opens across the city to Lake Biwa. On a clear day, the water stretches wide and silver toward distant mountains. This view explains why the castle stands here. From this hill, the Ii lords could watch the lake, the road, and the plain all at once. For more than two centuries of peace, the castle never faced a real siege. It became a symbol of power more than a battlefield.

The castle has survived one more danger. In the late nineteenth century, Japan's new government ordered many castles to be demolished. Hikone was nearly lost too. According to a popular story, the Emperor himself saw the castle on a journey and asked that it be saved. Historians debate the exact details. But the result is clear. The keep still stands, and so do several gates, turrets, and even a rare horse stable near the outer moat.

One famous member of the Ii family deserves a mention. Ii Naosuke was a senior official in the Tokugawa government during the 1850s. He signed treaties that opened Japan to foreign trade, and the decision made him many enemies. In 1860, he was assassinated outside Edo Castle in Tokyo. Yet here in Hikone, he is also remembered as a quiet man of tea and poetry. That gentler side lives on in the gardens at the foot of the hill.

And you may meet a cheerful white cat in a red samurai helmet. This is Hikonyan, the town's mascot. Legend has it that a cat once waved an Ii lord into a temple, just before a storm broke. As you walk back down, listen again to the gravel. Look at the moat, the pines, and the white walls against the sky. The same stones that guarded a lord now simply hold the quiet of the hill.