Why “Ginkgo Trees” Define Tokyo — The Jingu Gaien Ginkgo Avenue in Autumn

 
When people think of autumn in Tokyo, the first image that comes to mind is surely the Ginkgo(icho) Avenue of Meiji Jingu Gaien. Four rows of ginkgo trees stand in perfect alignment on both sides of the walkway, stretching straight into the distance. With two rows along the roadway and two rows inside the pedestrian path, this distinctive double-layered arrangement emphasizes the perspective lines, creating the sensation of being drawn into a golden tunnel as you walk.

The most beautiful period usually arrives in late November.
The leaves take on their deepest golden hue, softly reflecting the sunlight so

that the entire street seems wrapped in a warm golden glow.

But precisely because of that beauty, Gaien in autumn is always packed with people.
Cafés have long lines, the sidewalks are constantly crowded, and the crosswalks are filled with people as if the traffic light were permanently red. You’ll often see security staff shouting themselves hoarse—“Please don’t stop in the roadway!”—at people stepping into the street to take photos. Even that scene has become one of the familiar “Gaien-in-autumn” clichés.

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What Is “Meiji Jingu Gaien”?

The official name of the area is Meiji Jingu Gaien, a vast green zone created in the Taishō era as a “national project to commemorate Emperor Meiji.” At its center stands the imposing Meiji Memorial Picture Gallery (Seitoku Kinen Kaigakan), surrounded by a spacious layout of sports facilities—baseball stadiums, a rugby field, tennis courts, and more.

What makes Gaien truly unique is its deliberate design to create a sense of openness right in the middle of the city.
Despite being located in the heart of business districts such as Aoyama and Shinanomachi, once you step into Gaien the sky suddenly opens up, and the straight ginkgo-lined axis unfolds with breathtaking clarity.

The Ginkgo Avenue was planted in 1923, conceived as the central axis of the area. For roughly a century, it has served as the defining symbol of autumn in Tokyo.

The area around the ginkgo avenue is one of Tokyo’s most prestigious districts, home to many of Japan’s leading companies as well as major international firms. It’s a place where urban sophistication and a certain quiet elegance coexist in a uniquely balanced way.

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Why Are There So Many Ginkgo Trees in Tokyo?

Ginkgo trees can be found throughout Japan; Tokyo does not have a monopoly on them.
Yet the association of “Tokyo = ginkgo” is strong because the trees were planted intensively in highly visible city-center locations.

Ginkgo trees are exceptionally tolerant of urban environments: they withstand exhaust fumes, resist many pests, and endure dry conditions.
They are also said to be fire-resistant thanks to their moisture-rich bark—a reason why large ginkgo trees have survived for centuries on the grounds of temples and shrines.

This characteristic became highly valued during the post–Great Kantō Earthquake reconstruction plan of 1923.
Chosen as “street trees that are fire-resistant and easy to cultivate,” ginkgoes were planted along major Tokyo arteries such as Aoyama-dori, Hibiya-dori, and Yasukuni-dori.

During the postwar reconstruction period, their quick growth again made them useful, leading to their widespread planting across the central districts.

Over time, these layers of history gradually shaped the image of
“Tokyo — the city of ginkgo trees.”

And needless to say, ginkgo trees turn a brilliant gold in autumn.
The sight of urban Tokyo glowing with golden leaves frequently appears in photographs and video footage, further strengthening the association.

We also must not forget the distinctive aroma of ginkgo nuts (ginnan).
It can surprise newcomers, but for many Tokyoites, the moment that scent begins to drift through the streets, it feels like a seasonal signal: “Autumn has arrived.”

In a concrete metropolis where seasonal changes can feel muted, the ginkgo announces autumn not only visually but also through scent.
This sensory memory—touching both sight and smell—is surely another reason the ginkgo has become “the symbol of Tokyo’s autumn.”

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Where to Enjoy Ginkgo Trees Slowly

The Gaien avenue is overwhelmingly beautiful, but extremely crowded in autumn.
Standing still is difficult, looking up while walking leads to bumping into people, and security staff constantly warn visitors.

Yet Tokyo's parks, shrines, temples, and university campuses also offer magnificent ginkgo scenery.
Below are a few places where you can enjoy the season more leisurely:

• Ueno Park Area: Historic ginkgo-lined paths surrounding the museums and art institutions.

• The University of Tokyo, Hongo Campus: The ginkgo trees around the Akamon Gate are especially impressive.

• Yoyogi Park: A hidden gem near Gaien. In addition to ginkgoes, the park offers maples, zelkovas, and cherry trees, providing a wide variety of autumn colors.
  
  

  

  Yoyogi park

• Koishikawa Korakuen:
  A beautifully preserved Edo-period garden featuring ponds, bridges, and seasonal foliage, including vivid ginkgo trees in late autumn.

• Rikugien Garden:
  A classic daimyo garden known for its dramatic autumn-light-up events and elegant landscape design.

• Showa Kinen Park (Tachikawa): Home to one of the largest ginkgo avenues in the country, set within an expansive national park.

When traveling in Tokyo in autumn, you’re likely to encounter ginkgo trees almost anywhere you go.
If you come across a scene you like, take a moment and snap a photo with the ginkgoes—it will become a quintessential Tokyo memory.

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So Tokyo’s Symbol Is…? Wait, It Isn’t?

And a small aside to finish. This is the symbol mark of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government.
You’ll see it on trams, buses, and public facilities—if you live in Tokyo, you probably see it almost every day.

What does it look like to you?

“Of course it’s a ginkgo leaf!”

—After reading this blog, most people would certainly think so.

But in fact, it isn’t a ginkgo.
According to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government, the mark is “an abstract representation of the letter T, the initial of Tokyo,” and not a leaf design.

On social media, posts like
“Wait, it’s not a ginkgo?!”
go viral from time to time, surprising people again and again.

At the same time, Tokyo officially designates the ginkgo as the metropolitan tree. Yet for some reason, the government insists—almost stubbornly—that the symbol mark is “not a ginkgo.” The reason remains a mystery.

Still, the fact that so many people immediately associate the symbol with a ginkgo shows just how deeply the tree has taken root as an emblem of Tokyo.

And full confession: until I researched this column, I myself had always assumed the Tokyo symbol mark was a ginkgo leaf.

Why Do Shinto Shrines and Temples Look So Similar?

A Hidden Leather Market Near Asakusa: The “Kutsu no Megumi Festival” at Tamahime Inari Shrin

 

Just a 20-minute walk from central Asakusa, the grounds of Tamahime Inari Shrine are now lined with dozens of stalls selling shoes and leather goods, drawing large crowds of visitors.

This is the Kutsu no Megumi Matsuri Ichi (kutsu means “shoes” in Japanese), a two-day footwear and leather market held from today, the 22nd, through the 23rd.It is a long-running event that began in 1974, hosted by the down-to-earth Tamahime Inari Shrine in Tokyo’s old downtown district.

A Shrine Loved by Shoemakers

For decades, this area was home to clusters of leather workshops and shoe factories.

After World War II, the wider Asakusa district grew into one of Japan’s densest concentrations of small shoe and leather workshops, and Kiyokawa became the everyday living quarter for many of those craftsmen—simple homes that often doubled as their workspaces.
Although the number of factories has decreased over the years, the district still remains one of Japan’s leading production hubs for leather shoes.


Because so many shoemakers lived and worked nearby, Tamahime Inari Shrine naturally came to be known as a “guardian shrine for shoes.”

The festival, which began in 1974, has grown into one of the largest shoe markets in Japan.
In recent years, even travelers visiting from Asakusa have started to stop by.

Why the Deals Are So Good—and So Unique

Over the two days of the event, more than 100,000 pairs of shoes go on display.
Stalls selling bags, wallets, belts, and other leather accessories line the shrine grounds and nearby streets.

The market runs only until 5:00 PM, and the best items tend to disappear early in the day.By around 4:00 PM, many stalls are already running low on goods, and you can feel the atmosphere of vendors beginning to pack up.

This is not a typical festival market that simply piles together discounted goods.
Many vendors are actual manufacturers and workshops, and industry associations are involved in running the event.
As a result, the products are high in quality—yet offered at 60–80% off regular prices.

Curious why the prices were so low, I asked several sellers.
They explained that many items were:

• Sizing or component mistakes from made-to-order production

• Dead stock that had remained in storage

• Prototype items created during product development

• Factory pieces that were perfectly well-made but rejected because they didn’t match the final specifications

In other words, these products were not unsold because of inferior craftsmanship;
they simply did not meet the buyer’s requirements.
Because of that, their condition is excellent, the construction is solid, and they look beautiful—yet they are surprisingly affordable.

Many high-quality leather shoes  are sold for under 10,000 yen, giving them the feel of “secret treasures” you can find only here.

There are also many unique items such as wallets and small cases that appear to be made from factory offcuts, and some regular visitors come specifically for these pieces.

They may be unbranded, but that is exactly why each one feels like a “once-in-a-lifetime encounter”—a special item you can obtain only here, and only today.

Rituals You Can See Only Here

A ceremony honoring old shoes stacked high.

If you look at the people visiting the market, you may notice some carrying old shoes in their hands.

Alongside the market, the shrine conducts rituals such as the shoe memorial service, in which well-worn shoes are respectfully burned.
This reflects a uniquely Japanese sensibility—the idea of expressing gratitude toward tools and everyday objects that have been used for a long time.

Japan has similar memorial rites for needles, brushes, knives, and more, and many shrines enshrine deities associated with crafts and tools.
In that sense, honoring shoes is perfectly natural within this cultural landscape.

A vivid symbol of this devotion is the enormous shoe-shaped mikoshi (portable shrine).
 There are two modern-design mikoshi: one representing men's shoes, and the other women's shoes, inspired by Cinderella's slipper. 

A Perfect Detour from Asakusa

This festival is held every November, and this year it takes place on November 22 and 23.
It is also held once more in April.

Although the event attracts a large number of visitors, there are still relatively few foreign tourists.
Despite being within walking distance from Asakusa, it remains little known among overseas travelers—making it a small hidden gem where you can enjoy the feeling of “blending into real local life.”

The lively sales talk from craftsmen and vendors  is also part of the charm.　Sometimes they can be a bit persistent, but that too is one of the enjoyable aspects of this festival.

If your visit to Asakusa happens to coincide with these dates—and if you can stop by before 5 PM—you may find yourself holding a one-of-a-kind leather item that you can obtain only here, and only on this day.
That “lucky encounter” may be waiting for you just around the corner.

Although you can walk from Asakusa, taking a bus is actually the most convenient option, with several routes stopping close to the shrine.

What Is Shichi-Go-San? Japan’s Charming “Seven-Five-Three” Celebration on November 15

Today is November 15, the peak of Japan’s Shichi-Go-San season. If you visit a shrine around this time, you’ll notice families lined up for blessings, children dressed in colorful kimono, and a warm, festive atmosphere that feels uniquely Japanese.

“Seven-Five-Three”: A Name as Literal as It Is Charming

In Japanese, Shichi-Go-San is literally just a string of numbers: Seven-Five-Three. Yet anyone in Japan instantly knows that these numbers refer to a special children's celebration.

Traditionally, the ages were:

• 3-year-olds (boys and girls)

• 5-year-old boys

• 7-year-old girls

These categories came from ancient coming-of-age rituals:

• Kamioki (Age 3): Children began growing out their hair.

• Hakamagi (Age 5): Boys wore a hakama for the first time.

• Obitoki (Age 7): Girls began wearing a formal obi belt.

Modern families often still follow this pattern, but more people now focus on the spirit of wishing for a child’s healthy growth, regardless of strict age or gender categories. Many celebrate siblings together, shift the timing, or personalize the custom to suit their family.

Why November 15? A Date With Several Possible Origins

The exact reason isn’t entirely clear, but a few explanations are popular:

• A ceremony for a Tokugawa shogun’s child is said to have taken place on November 15.

• In the old Japanese calendar, this date was considered lucky.

• November is harvest season, a natural time to give thanks for growth.

For these reasons, November 15 gradually became traditional—though today most families celebrate anytime in October or November.

How Families Celebrate Today

Shichi-Go-San is historically a Shinto celebration, so many families visit a shrine. However, the modern practice is quite flexible and not strongly doctrinal, which is why it’s commonly viewed as a cultural custom rather than a strictly religious ritual.

Because of this cultural nature, families approach the day in many different ways:

• Some request a formal blessing from the shrine.

• Others simply dress up, visit, and offer a casual prayer.

• Many parents treat the day primarily as a photo-focused celebration, with studio sessions or outdoor photos becoming the main event.

And although the tradition is rooted in Shinto, families also visit well-known Buddhist temples that offer their own style of child-related blessings. This doesn’t reflect blending of religions so much as the fact that modern Shichi-Go-San is a broad cultural milestone, and families choose places they feel connected to.
A famous example in Tokyo is Nishiarai Daishi, a major Buddhist temple that draws large crowds for Shichi-Go-San.

Popular spots in Tokyo include:

• Meiji Jingu (Shibuya)

  
  
  

• Hie Shrine (Akasaka)

• Asakusa Shrine (Asakusa)
  

  
  
  
  

• Yushima Tenjin (Bunkyo)

• Nishiarai Daishi (Adachi) — a temple known for its child-blessings

  
  
  

Children wear kimono or formal outfits, and girls sometimes have light makeup. Families take photos and enjoy chitose-ame, the long “thousand-year candy” symbolizing longevity.

A Fun Part of the Tradition: Shichi-Go-San Photos

Shichi-Go-San portraits often become cherished childhood photos. They’re adorable, slightly awkward, and unforgettable—tiny princesses or miniature samurai smiling bravely under layers of silk.

As the years go by, these photos become even more enjoyable to look back on. Parents are reminded of how small their children once were, while the children themselves may or may not remember the day—often feeling a mix of nostalgia and a hint of embarrassment.

From time to time, a celebrity will share their old Shichi-Go-San photo online, prompting a wave of friendly laughter. Because the style is so instantly recognizable, it naturally becomes a shared point of conversation for many people.

Shichi-Go-San Goes Global

Since it was the big day, I stopped by Asakusa Shrine to experience the atmosphere myself. I noticed a few overseas visitors with children dressed in kimono for the occasion. The scene felt warm and heartwarming.

There are also photo studios—especially in tourist-friendly areas—that offer Shichi-Go-San–style kimono photo sessions. For families traveling in Japan with children around these ages, experiencing Shichi-Go-San can become an unforgettable memory.

Gathering Luck in Tokyo: A Night at Asakusa Tori no Ichi

 

Just after midnight, as November 12 begins, the first drum of the night echoes through Ootori Shrine in Senzoku, near Asakusa in Tokyo’s Taito Ward.

It marks the opening of Tori no Ichi(literally, ‘Market of the Rooster’), one of Japan’s most famous autumn festivals.

The “Day of the Rooster” and the Lucky Market

Tori no Ichi is held every November on the so-called “Day of the Rooster” (Tori no Hi).

This day is determined by the traditional Chinese zodiac calendar. The zodiac consists of 12 animals that rotate over a 12-year cycle. The same system also applies to days — each day is assigned a zodiac animal, and every 12 days, the “Day of the Rooster” comes again.
Because of this, some years have two or even three “Days of the Rooster” in November. In 2025, the first (Ichi no Tori) falls on November 12, and the second (Ni no Tori) on November 24.
Tonight, until midnight, marks the very first Tori no Ichi of the year.

Ootori Shrine and the Origins of the Festival

Ootori Shrine enshrines two deities from Japanese mythology: Ame-no-Hiwashi-no-Mikoto and Yamato Takeru-no-Mikoto, and has a history spanning several centuries.
During the Edo period (17th–19th centuries), the shrine’s annual festival gradually developed into what is now known as Tori no Ichi.
It became a lively autumn fair for praying for good fortune and business prosperity, spreading throughout the Kanto region.
Today, major Tori no Ichi festivals are also held at Hanazono Shrine in Shinjuku and Kotohira-Ootori Shrine in Yokohama.

The Lucky Rake: Kumade

When I arrived around 7 p.m., the shrine grounds were crowded with worshippers and festival-goers enjoying food and drinks at the stalls.
The most distinctive symbol of Tori no Ichi is the kumade — literally “bear’s hand.”

Originally a simple bamboo rake used to gather fallen leaves, it became a decorative charm when adorned with small gold coins, beckoning cats, and figures of the Seven Lucky Gods.

The kumade symbolizes “gathering fortune and customers.”
Even the shrine’s name, Ootori (“large bird”), carries auspicious meanings, suggesting “grabbing success” or “taking a lot.”

All around the shrine, stalls sell kumade in all sizes — from small charms to enormous custom-made ones for businesses.
These large kumade are often pre-ordered months in advance, with the buyer’s name displayed.
The scene is so iconic that it appears on Japanese TV news every year.

For example, Sanrio, the company behind Hello Kitty and Cinnamoroll, has long been known to display a huge kumade decorated with popular characters and golden ornaments.
Visitors enjoy photographing it and admiring the blend of traditional festival culture with kawaii pop culture.
Corporate kumade like these symbolize not only prosperity but also connection to the community.

Clapping and Calls — The Sound of Edo
Whenever a kumade is sold, the seller and buyer perform a rhythmic hand-clapping ceremony called tejime.
It concludes with a loud shout:
“Shōbai hanjō!” — meaning “Wishing you prosperous business!”

The claps and shouts fill the shrine, creating a lively, communal atmosphere.
It is unmistakably Edo-style — vibrant, spirited, and full of energy.

Growing the Rake, Growing Fortune

Kumade come in every size — from palm-sized charms to rakes taller than a person.
Prices range from a few thousand yen to over one million yen for the most elaborate designs.

Traditionally, people buy slightly larger kumade each year, symbolizing the growth of their luck and success.

Local shopkeepers and business owners proudly carry their new kumade home while returning the previous year’s to the shrine.
Old kumade are purified and burned in a ceremonial ritual, continuing the cycle of fortune.

Returning last year’s kumade — giving back luck before welcoming new fortune

For First-Time Visitors

First-timers need not worry — you don’t have to start with a large kumade.
Many visitors, including tourists, buy a small charm or keychain-sized kumade as a keepsake.
Starting small and planning to buy a slightly larger one on your next visit is a lovely tradition — your own story of “growing fortune.”

For those starting a new business or project, a small kumade serves as a symbolic charm.
You can wish for success and promise yourself that next year you’ll return for a bigger one.
Even the smallest kumade can hold the biggest hopes.

A Festival that Shines into the Night

On November 12, and again on the final day, November 24, the sounds of drums and hand-claps echo through Asakusa late into the night.

Some come to pray, others to eat, drink, and celebrate with friends under the lanterns.
But everyone, in their own way, comes to gather a little piece of good fortune.

If you are in Tokyo in November, don’t miss this dazzling night market of luck —
Tori no Ichi at Ootori Shrine, where tradition, business, and joy come together under the autumn sky.

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The Most "Unassuming" Ward in Tokyo? Exploring Kita Ward, Oji, Autumn in Asukayama Park

Among Tokyo’s 23 wards, there’s one area often called the most unremarkable.

That’s Kita Ward — literally “North.”
Kita = North. Simple as that.
But there’s a reason behind that plain name.

As the name suggests, Kita marks the northern gateway to Tokyo.
Bordering Saitama Prefecture, it has long been considered the entrance to Edo — the historical Tokyo — since samurai times.

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The Northern Gateway: Oji Station

At the heart of Kita Ward stands Oji Station, one of the city’s northernmost transport hubs.
This time, I visited Oji on an autumn day to see what kind of charm this quiet part of Tokyo holds.

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The Slopes of Oji Tell a Story

Step out of Oji Station, and you’ll immediately notice the slope.　Here, the flat streets from downtown Tokyo suddenly rise, reminding you of the city’s dramatic terrain.
Today it’s neatly paved, but in the past, this was known as the beginning of a difficult hill road.

At the top lies Asukayama Park, created in the 18th century by

the eighth shogun, Tokugawa Yoshimune, as a public park for common people.
It’s actually one of Tokyo’s oldest parks — and said to be the birthplace of Japan’s hanami (cherry blossom viewing) culture.

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Momiji-gari – Hunting for Autumn Colors

Now it’s autumn — time for momiji-gari, literally “maple hunting.”
Of course, no one actually picks the leaves; it means going out to enjoy the colors of autumn.
In Asukayama, maple and zelkova trees turn brilliant shades of red and gold, with the JR train lines running below adding a perfect contrast.

There’s even a mini monorail connecting the base of the hill to the top — free to ride and only about two minutes long. Locals affectionately call it “Asukargo,” a playful nickname combining Asukayama and escargot, inspired by its snail-like shape.

Families, couples, and photographers all hop on to chase the autumn light.　

It isn’t just for sightseeing. Many elderly residents rely on it for their daily errands, sparing them the effort of climbing Oji’s steep hillside. Running back and forth all day, the monorail has become a small but essential part of local life.

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Shibusawa Eiichi and Ancient Memories

In one corner of Asukayama stands the former residence of Eiichi

Shibusawa, a pioneering industrialist known as the father of Japanese capitalism.
(If you have the new 10,000 yen bill, his face is on it!)
His Shibusawa Garden blends modern architecture with peaceful nature.

Within the Shibusawa Residence, you’ll find two beautifully preserved structures set among seasonally beautiful trees: Seien Bunko, a refined Western-style brick library built in 1917 to house Eiichi Shibusawa’s books and papers, and Bankoro, a small guest pavilion from the same year that blends Japanese and Western design with warm, inviting craftsmanship.

Even more surprising — archaeological remains from the Kofun period (around the 3rd to 6th century) were discovered within this garden.

Because of the hilly terrain, the area escaped heavy development, allowing traces of ancient Japan to survive underground.
It’s a strange thought — beneath the autumn leaves rest memories from over 1,500 years ago.

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A Quiet Valley in the City

Just beside the station, you’ll find Otonashi Shinsui Park, a small urban valley that recreates the long-lost Otonashi River.

In summer, water flows again using underground sources from Asukayama, creating a refreshing stream.
Bridges and red leaves form picture-perfect scenes — a model example of successful urban park design.　Around the Shinsui Park area, you’ll find streets that trace the old river’s curves — and a few small cafés and restaurants perfect for a quiet break.

Climb the nearby stone steps, and you’ll reach Oji Shrine, home to a massive ginkgo tree designated a Natural Monument of Tokyo.

Estimated to be about 600 years old, it turns a dazzling gold in autumn — a different kind of beauty from the maples.

Standing beneath it, you can almost feel the quiet pride of this “northern” district.

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Modest but Meaningful — The Charm of Kita Ward

Kita Ward and Oji aren’t flashy tourist spots.
But here, you can sense the real Tokyo — its slopes, rivers, shrines, and old parks built for ordinary people.

It’s often called “plain,” yet there’s a calm dignity to its streets.
And fun fact — the lively drinking alleys of Akabane, which I introduced in another post, are also part of Kita Ward.

You’ll find another side of Tokyo’s north: rows of cheerful izakaya packed with locals, the smell of grilled yakitori drifting through the air.

Akabane

That mix of tranquility and everyday energy — of quiet parks and lively backstreets — is what makes Kita Ward so endearing.

It may not shine as bright as Shibuya or Shinjuku, but it’s the kind of place that quietly grows on you.
Maybe that’s why I can’t help but have a soft spot for Tokyo’s unassuming, down-to-earth north.

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A Beginner’s Guide to Sumo: The History, Rules, and How to Enjoy It

In October, a rather surprising event became a talking point in London:sumo wrestling was held at the music temple, the Royal Albert Hall.

The five-day tournament filled the venue every day, and more than a few visitors said, “I didn’t know sumo was like this.”

So for anyone who became curious about this unusual sport from Japan,　here is a simple guide — just enough to enjoy it from day one.

What is Sumo? A Very Short History

Sumo is often called Japan’s “national sport”.

Its roots go back over 1,500 years, and by around 1,000 years ago, it already had a form very close to what we see today.

In the Edo period (17th–19th century), sumo grew as public entertainment, while still keeping the rituals of a sacred ceremony.

Modern professional sumo inherited both sides:the ritual beauty and the competitive sport.

That mix is what makes sumo truly unique.

Professional sumo is called ōzumō, but there is also student and amateur sumo.

Amateur tournaments are held around the world, and in recent years, wrestlers from Europe, Oceania, and the Americas have appeared even in the professional ranks.

The Rules Are Surprisingly Simple

For spectators, sumo is easy to enjoy without knowing every detail.

You lose if:

1.     You step outside the ring

2.     Anything other than the bottom of your feet touches the ground
– a hand, a knee, or your back

That’s it.
Because the rules are so clear, everyone instantly knows who won.

Matches are short: some end in one explosive second, others last several tense minutes.

Wrestlers use speed, strength, balance, and technique.
Some crash into each other head-first — imagine a 180–200 kg athlete diving forward like a rugby tackle, without any helmet.
The sound makes many first-time viewers gasp: “This is crazy!”

The Mysterious Start – No Whistle, No Gong

Sumo also has a very unusual way of starting a match.
There is no whistle or gong.
The referee calls “matta nashi, hakkeyoi,” and the bout begins only when both wrestlers place both hands on the ground at the same time.

If one hand is not fully down, the referee stops the match.
This is a modern rule to ensure fairness.

Old videos show something very different:
wrestlers barely touched the ground, and started by sensing each other’s breathing — a kind of craftsman’s timing.
Today, the hands-down rule is strictly enforced.

In amateur sumo, fairness is even more important, so matches often start with a referee’s signal.

Rituals Before the Fight

Sometimes the pre-match ceremony is longer than the match itself.
Wrestlers squat, stare, and throw salt into the ring.
The ring is considered a sacred space, so salt is used for purification.

The referee’s costumes are also striking — the higher his rank, the more ornate the outfit becomes.
After winning, wrestlers do not shout or pump their fists.
They bow silently, receive prize envelopes with calm dignity, and show respect to their opponent.
That sense of ritual and etiquette is part of sumo’s charm.

 The Mawashi: Sumo’s Only Costume

Wrestlers fight wearing only a mawashi, the traditional belt.

It looks simple, but it’s actually about six meters of silk, wrapped tightly many times around the body.
The mawashi isn’t just clothing—it’s also part of the strategy.
Grabbing an opponent’s belt is how wrestlers execute powerful throws and control each other in the ring.

Under the mawashi, professional wrestlers do not wear anything.
This is part of the traditional style of sumo.
In amateur sumo, however, the rules are more flexible, and wrestlers are often allowed to wear spats or tight shorts underneath for safety and comfort.

The Hair – Ōichō and the Samurai Topknot

Another symbol of sumo is the traditional hairstyle.
Top-division wrestlers wear the ōichō, a fan-shaped topknot inherited from the samurai era.
It is made by a specialist called a tokoyama, and it takes time and skill to shape.
Lower-ranked wrestlers still wear a simpler topknot, similar to the old samurai style.
Even the hair shows rank — something unique to sumo.

Tournaments: Honbasho and Jungyō

Professional sumo has six official tournaments (honbasho) every year, each lasting 15 days.

Ryogoku kokugikan

Three of these are held in Tokyo, and the city’s Ryōgoku Kokugikan is known as the home arena of sumo.

Outside the official tournaments, wrestlers travel across Japan — and overseas — for exhibition tours called jungyō, designed to entertain fans and promote the sport.
London’s event was part of this worldwide effort.

On honbasho days, matches begin around 8 a.m. with new wrestlers, and continue until evening, ending with the top-division stars.

Ranks and the “Banzuke”

Sumo has a ranking system, with Yokozuna at the very top.

Rankings go up and down based on the results of each honbasho.

The key number is eight wins.
A wrestler who finishes with a winning record (8 wins or more in 15 bouts) will usually be promoted, while a losing record means falling down the rankings.

At the top is the Yokozuna, the grand champion.
A Yokozuna cannot be demoted—once you reach the summit, you stay there.
Sounds easy, right? Actually, it’s the opposite.
If a Yokozuna keeps losing, they are expected to retire with dignity, and the pressure from fans, media, and tradition is enormous.

So while other wrestlers fight to avoid demotion, a Yokozuna fights to avoid retirement.
This constant pressure is part of what makes the rank so special, and so rare.

yokozuna

The name Yokozuna comes from the sacred rope (shimenawa) worn around the waist — the same rope seen at Shinto shrines.

A Yokozuna performing the ceremonial ring entrance is one of the most iconic sights in sumo.

Since wrestlers usually fight opponents of similar rank, a lower-ranked wrestler can keep winning without meeting the strongest competitors.
So sometimes a “dark horse” suddenly appears in the championship race.
Because it’s not a knockout tournament, every honbasho creates its own drama.

Bigger Is a Weapon

Weight matters in sumo.
Wrestlers train hard and eat heavily to build massive bodies.
For years, foreign-born wrestlers dominated.
People compared it to Wimbledon, where the home champions once struggled for a long time.

Today, Japanese champions are returning.
In 2025, Ōnosato became the first Japanese-born wrestler in many years to reach Yokozuna.
He now shares the top rank with Mongolian-born Hōshōryū, and a fast-rising wrestler from Ukraine, Aonishiki, is also drawing attention.

Beloved Around the World — Even by Presidents

Sumo has many overseas fans.
Former French President Jacques Chirac was famously obsessed with it.
When he visited Japan, he always went to watch.
During his presidency, he reportedly checked the results every morning before starting his workday.

His political rival, Nicolas Sarkozy, once called sumo “not an intellectual sport,”
which somehow turned into a national argument about sumo.

Sumo Is Going Global

You can find sumo matches easily on YouTube, and English-speaking commentators are growing.
The Sumo Association is working on international outreach, so the days when you had to fly to Japan just to watch are changing.

And who knows?
The next wrestlers might come to your city.

If You See It, Just Watch for a Minute

Simple rules.
Huge impact.
A mix of sacred ritual and intense sport.

You don’t have to understand everything — the moment someone hits the ground or steps out, you know who won.

Sumo is a sport you can enjoy from the very first day you see it.

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