The Chiikawa Guardian
Emily Chen
Emily Chen
April 2nd, 2024. An overcast day in Kyoto, accompanied by a light breeze that ruffled the white and pink cherry blossoms blooming all around the city. It was the third day of my solo trip to Japan (my first!) and my first full day in Kyoto, the Japanese city most known for its sacred sites—Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines—and matcha. Like a typical tourist, I decided to visit the Fushimi Inari Taisha first, hoping to get a perfect Instagram photo in front of the shrine’s iconic torii gates. Arriving at the entrance, I realized the torii gates actually form a long, labyrinthine tunnel that leads visitors onto a trail stretching across Mount Inari. According to Google Reviews, the summit affords a breathtaking view of the Kyoto skyline. Curious and—more importantly—hoping to avoid the crowd of tourists at the entrance, I climbed up the mountain.
I climbed the cobblestone path and passed the torii pillars, each inscribed with rows of kanji (Japanese logographic characters). The crowds dispersed as I climbed higher, and the sounds of children laughing, families conversing, and cameras clicking were replaced by a solemn quiet and the occasional footsteps and soft breathing of those few tourists who also chose the path less travelled. Sub-shrines and altars, known as hokura, are scattered along the mountain, each guarded by numerous kitsune (fox) statues attired in a red bib. In Japanese Shinto, kitsune are regarded as guardians and messengers of the kami, sacred spirits of nature believed to maintain the world in a state of harmony. As seen in the photos, some kitsune statues hold a small blade in their mouths, which highlights their protective powers, while others hold a scroll, presumably inscribed with prayers from Shinto worshippers intended for the kami. Some of the sub-shrines are also covered by a canopy, where large bells, known as suzu, are attached to thick ropes and can be rung as part of worshippers’ prayers. The tranquil yet mystical atmosphere produced by these objects afforded me an almost otherworldly experience.
However, my spiritual immersion was unexpectedly disrupted two hours later, as I made my way down the mountain and encountered a long line of people waiting outside a store right next to the shrine’s exit. The line consisted mainly of teenage and young adult female customers chattering about which limited-edition item to purchase. On the window display were posters of cute cartoon characters and a variety of merchandise, from plushies to traditional Japanese pastries with designs of the characters printed on their packaging. Two girls who had just exited the shop suddenly stopped beside me. As they pulled out their new plushies for a photo in front of the storefront, they were barely able to contain their excitement over how kawaii (cute) the toys were. I had stumbled upon a Chiikawa merchandise store.