Kōchi Castle

Listen to the gravel shift under your shoes as you walk up the slope. The stone walls on either side are cool and grey, and many of the blocks are rough and uneven, fitted together without mortar. Above you, through the trees, white plaster walls and dark tiled roofs come into view. This is Kōchi Castle. It sits on a low hill near the centre of the city, and it has watched over this part of southern Shikoku for more than four centuries.

Before we climb, it helps to know where you are. Kōchi lies on the island of Shikoku, the smallest of Japan's four main islands. In the age of the samurai, this region was called Tosa. It was a separate domain, ruled by its own lord. The sea lies to the south, and steep mountains rise to the north. For a long time, that geography kept Tosa somewhat apart from the rest of Japan. That sense of distance still shapes how people here talk about themselves today.

The castle's story begins with a turning point in Japanese history. In 1600, the Battle of Sekigahara decided who would control the country. It brought the Tokugawa family to power, and they ruled Japan for more than two and a half centuries. A loyal commander named Yamauchi Kazutoyo had sided with the winners. As a reward, he received the province of Tosa. Soon after, he began building a new castle on this hill, which is known as Ōtakasa-yama.

There is a much-loved story about how Kazutoyo rose so far. According to the popular tale, his wife, Chiyo, quietly saved money from her dowry. She then gave it to him to buy a fine horse. The horse caught the eye of a powerful lord, and Kazutoyo's career moved forward from there. Historians debate the details, but the story is told across Japan. As you explore the grounds, look for statues of the couple. They honour that partnership.

Now, here is the first surprise. The wooden buildings in front of you are not modern copies. Many Japanese castles were destroyed in the late nineteenth century or burned in the Second World War. Most castle keeps you can visit today are concrete reconstructions. Kōchi Castle is different. It is one of only twelve castles in Japan where the original keep still stands. The timber, the plaster, and the staircases are the real thing.

The buildings are not quite as old as the castle itself, though. In 1727, a fire swept through the main enclosure and destroyed much of it. The Yamauchi lords rebuilt it, and the keep you see now was completed in the mid-eighteenth century. Interestingly, the builders chose an older style for the new keep. It looks like the earlier castle architecture of the early seventeenth century. So the building is old, and it was also designed to look older than it was.

As you climb, pass through the main gate, the Ōtemon. It is massive and dark, with heavy timbers and iron fittings. It is also original. Stand just inside it and look up the hill. The keep appears framed above the stone walls. This view was planned. The gate was the formal entrance, and the lords wanted visitors to feel the power of the house the moment they arrived.

Keep an eye on the stone walls as you go higher. Every so often, a stone spout sticks out from the wall, with a channel cut into it. These are drainage gutters. Kōchi is one of the rainiest cities in Japan, and heavy rain can damage stone walls over time. The spouts throw rainwater away from the base of the walls. Most visitors walk straight past them. Once you notice one, you will start to see them everywhere.

Here is the second surprise, and it is the reason many castle lovers come here. At the top of the hill is the main enclosure, called the honmaru. At Kōchi, all the buildings of this enclosure survive. That includes the gates, the connecting corridors, and a residence called the Kaitokukan, which is attached to the keep. No other castle in Japan keeps its full main enclosure like this. You are not seeing a single old tower. You are seeing a complete set.

Inside the Kaitokukan, the mood changes. This was a space for receiving guests and for ceremony, not for fighting. The rooms are wide and calm, with tatami mats underfoot and sliding doors. You will need to take off your shoes here. Notice how soft the floor feels after the hard stone outside. Then move into the keep itself. The stairs become steep, almost like ladders. Hold the rail, and take your time.

As you climb, look for small details of defence. Some walls have openings for archers and gunners. Below one section of the keep, a row of iron spikes points outward from the wall. These were meant to stop anyone from climbing up. Then, at the top floor, step out onto the open balcony that runs around the keep. The whole city spreads out below you — the rooftops, the river, the green hills, and on clear days a hint of the sea to the south.

The Yamauchi family ruled Tosa from here until the end of the samurai era. In the 1860s, Japan was in turmoil. Tosa produced several men who helped change the country, including Sakamoto Ryōma, a lower-ranking samurai who is a hero in Kōchi today. In 1867, the Tosa lord helped persuade the last shogun to return power to the emperor. After that, Japan modernised quickly. Near the castle's lower slopes, you will also find a statue of Itagaki Taisuke, another Tosa man, who pushed for elected government.

Before you leave, stay a moment at the top. Listen to the wind moving across the tiled roofs, and to the city sounds below. If it is Sunday, the long street leading to the castle gate will be lined with market stalls. Farmers have sold vegetables, fruit, and tools there for centuries. As you walk back down the slope, touch the rough stones once more. The same walls guided samurai, merchants, and farmers up this hill. Now they guide you back into the city.