The men carrying baggages headed for the main hall of Yasukuni Jinja

Men in front of Torii — Men who came to visit Yasukuni Shrine

Even on weekdays, Yasukuni Shrine sees a steady stream of visitors. Considering its location in Kudanshita, right in the heart of Tokyo, it’s only natural that the crowd is a mix of office workers on their way home and tourists from other parts of Japan or abroad. Among those walking along the approach, some drag rolling suitcases behind them, betraying their identity as travelers. A suited figure pulling a bag looks less like a tourist and more like someone who decided to stop by the shrine in the middle of a business trip—but of course, only they know their own circumstances.

Beyond the gate stands the main hall, and before it, a solemn torii gate. At Yasukuni, the torii is not merely a marker along the path; it functions as a symbolic threshold. Passing through it signifies the transition from the secular world to the sacred domain—or so the logic goes. That said, human nature being what it is, no one suddenly becomes pure of heart simply by stepping under a gate.

Since its founding in the Meiji era, Yasukuni Shrine has repeatedly become the stage for debate at pivotal moments in Japan’s modern history. Because it enshrines soldiers and others who died in war, it remains a focus of both reverence and criticism, domestically and internationally. Yet for a traveler, this unique blend of history, religion, and politics creates a space unlike anywhere else in Tokyo. Standing beneath the torii, one hears the rolling wheels of a suitcase intermingling oddly with the profound stillness of the shrine grounds—an intersection of two worlds in a single moment.

Yasukuni Jinja on Google Map

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