An Old House: How A Fallen Samurai Family Survived In The Feudal Period

 In my neighborhood of Setagaya, Tokyo, stands an old house—a relic of bygone eras. The photograph captures the passage of time. Within this unassuming structure lies a history, woven with threads of honor, survival, and legacy.

Fig. Old house in my neighborhood, Setagaya, Tokyo

 

Fig. Setagaya, Tokyo

source: google earth modified by the author
 

Centuries ago, during the 16th century, the family of this house was samurai. Their ancestral roots were 55 kilometers away from their current abode. But fate dealt them a harsh blow—the Hojo clan, a formidable force, clashed with their lineage in battle. Defeated and displaced, they fled to their present location, seeking refuge and anonymity.

When a samurai family faced downfall, their destiny diverged along various paths:

1.      Annihilation: Some met a grim end—every member of the family perished.

2.     Selective Loss: Only the men suffered, leaving the women and children behind.

3.     Major Families: The ruling class spared the lives of prominent samurai, albeit with diminished status.

4.     Reconciliation: If relations with the victors weren’t irreparably strained, the fallen samurai might find employment under their new masters.

5.     Escape to Obscurity: Entire families sought refuge in remote areas, abandoning their warrior heritage to become farmers—a path known as “kino.”

The occupants of this old house belong to the fifth category. Once proud samurai, they navigated life as a kino family. Despite their lost status, they wielded subtle influence, serving as local stewards (Shoya) during the Tokugawa period, responsible for community affairs.

Walking a Tightrope

For a kino family, every action carried weight. A minor misstep could provoke the ruling samurai, leading to severe consequences. Their survival hinged on discretion, and their legacy rested on maintaining a delicate balance.

In the Tokugawa period, farmers were not allowed to have family names such that a fallen family typically hid their family name and kept it secret. It was only after the Meiji Restoration those fallen families could explicitly use their own family names.

In my neighborhood, over 30 households bear the same family name—a lineage tracing back to the 16th century. These shared roots bind them, a silent testament to resilience and continuity.

The Taxing Burden of Heritage in 21th Century

The house depicted in the photograph wears its age—possibly 150 years old although it cannot go back to the 16th century. When the previous owner passed away, an insurmountable heritage tax burden loomed. Unable to pay, they made a poignant choice: they donated a portion of their ancestral home to the local government. This act, not uncommon in Japan, transformed the house into a public treasure, open for all to explore.

In the quiet corners of Setagaya, the old house stands—a living relic, a survivor of feudal turmoil, and a bridge connecting us to Japan’s storied past.  

When you closely observe the things and phenomena around you, you realize that there is a hidden, long history that isn’t documented in books or written documents