Worshippers lined up in front of the shrine hall of Suga Shrine, which stood beyond the torii with a plaque on it

Walking uphill from Samegawabashi, once known as one of Tokyo’s poorest quarters, you eventually arrive at Suga Shrine, quietly perched on higher ground. It serves as the guardian shrine of the old Yotsuya district, dedicated to Susanoo and Ukano-Mitama. Its history is less straightforward than its modest appearance suggests. The shrine was originally an Inari sanctuary located in what is now Akasaka, before being relocated here in 1634. Even today, traces of that earlier geography linger in names and parks, slightly out of alignment with modern addresses, as if the city itself remembers former borders better than we do.

Standing at the approach, the shrine buildings come into view beyond a torii gate crowned with an imposing wooden plaque. The place is clearly popular. Visitors line up patiently in front of the worship hall, waiting their turn to pray. Some of this attention may be recent. The shrine gained renewed fame after appearing in the animated film Your Name, and pilgrimage now mixes casually with tourism.

What I hadn’t known was that “Suga Shrine” is not a unique name at all. Shrines bearing this title appear throughout Japan, especially those connected to Gion faith. Even within Tokyo there are others, in Asakusabashi and in western Suginami. The repetition makes the name feel less like a specific address and more like a shared refrain running through the country.

What I like most about Suga Shrine, though, is the story behind its name. According to myth, after defeating the eight-headed serpent and marrying Kushinada-hime, the god Susanoo wandered in search of a place to settle. When he arrived in a land called Suga in ancient Izumo, he declared that he felt refreshed, suga-sugashii, and named the place accordingly. It is, by any standard, a divine pun. The fact that such wordplay has survived for over a thousand years, faithfully retold since the age of the Kojiki, feels oddly comforting. Even the gods, it seems, were not above dad jokes, and Japan has been politely repeating the punchline ever since.