The Dragon of Izumo vs. The Tiger of Ise
Or: the War of the Dragon and Tiger

The last four and a half centuries of Yamato’s history have involved the near constant on-again-off-again state of war between the the Izumo Shogunate and the Empire of Ise (formerly the Empire of Yamato.)

While this conflict originated as an issue of succession between the Emperor and his younger brother, it has since evolved into a fight for existence. A battle between tradition and a new order. Between Imperial authority and the freedom of those who wish to shed the yoke of the traditional Imperial system.

Now, there are certain pros and cons to both sides in this conflict, there is no debating the symbolism used in this conflict to represent both combatants.

The conflict has no official name, and neither side officially acknowledges or has named the war. However, many poets, and some historians, have taken to calling the four and a half century state of conflict The War of the Dragon and Tiger.

In truth, it is less of a single war, and more of several prolonged conflicts. The original war was ended at the Battle of Fukigahara with a decisive Shogunate victory over the Empire, forever breaking the Emperor’s grasp over the western half of the main island of Yamato and causing the other islands to break from Imperial rule. Since then, Ise and Izumo have vacillated between a state of stalemate or detente (for it cannot truly be called peace) and open conflict.

The periods between wars are often just a way for either side to regroup, consolidate, recruit, and catch their breath before plunging back into the fray.

However, the name of the war itself has grown in popular use, if not official use, since it’s inception a little over six decades ago. The name stemmed from the symbolism used to describe both sides of the war, which has often been alluded to in poetry as the Dragon of Izumo locked in fierce combat with the Tiger of Ise.

The Dragon of Izumo is easy to ascertain the origin of, for it draws from a history older than the Shogunate. The kami Susano’o, exiled from the heavens, settled in Izumo after slaying the eight-headed serpent and marrying Kushinada-hime. He built his palace within the ancient caldera at the summit of Mount Saruyama, where the Shogun’s keep their palace now (on the slopes of the mountain, and not in the sacred caldera), and where their capital sprawls out around the base of the ancient mountain.

Susano’o was the father of dragons, his eldest son being Ryujin, the Dragon Divinity of the Sea. Susano’o’s spirit familiar is Seiryu, the Azure Dragon, another aspect of the Divine Spirit of Sea and Storms, who is a spirit of the East and Spring, and keeper of water.

The Shogun’s and their ancestors have long held Susano’o in high regard, and patronize his many shrines across the land, including the Grand Shrine at Izumo, within the caldera of Mount Saruyama, on the very spot Susano’o’s palace once stood. While the Saruyama Clan of the Shogunate is descended from the Imperial clan, they are also technically descended from Susano’o, for he was the brother of Amaterasu, and it was the marriage of Susano’o’s grand-daughter through Ryujin, Toyotama-hime, and Amaterasu’s great-grandson Hoori-no-mikoto.

However, it is harder to place the origin of the Tiger symbolism for Ise. Tiger’s are not native to the Ise region, instead coming from Ise. The Patron Kami of Ise, and in fact, the Imperial family, is Amaterasu, the Divine Spirit of the Sun. To Amaterasu, the rooster is sacred, for it always crows at first sight of her, and her familiar is Suzaku, the Vermillion Bird, spirit of the South and Summer, and keeper of fire.

Some believe it was done as an allusion to the old story, referenced often in painting and artwork, where a tiger is locked in fierce combat with a dragon, in the end, the two latch on to one another, and die together, locked in a deadly embrace.

When taken in consideration, the allegory seems apt, if unconfirmed. Regardless, these animalistic representations of both sides have only been further cemented since the end of the last conflict some twenty-years prior.

During that previous conflict, called the False Campaign, or the Campaign of Go-Horikawa 13 in Ise, Honda Nobukatsu, highest ranking general of the Old Shogun Saruyama Mitsutada, had massed a massive invasion force at the Izumi-Kawachi border, in order to goad the Imperial forces into crossing the border and attacking.

The bluff worked, for fearing Honda would strike first, the Empire diverted as many of their forces as possible towards the Izumi-Kawachi border to send an even larger force to cross into Shogunate territory and crush Honda’s armies.

What the Empire did not realize was that Honda had already divided his forces, and had hid the fact by having his soldiers keep their banners and tents at his main encampment before breaking off from the main force.

As soon as the Imperial armies crossed the border, Honda began his fighting retreat (though this term is not used in official Shogunal sources, for samurai do not retreat) feigning a cross between a flight and a delaying action meant to keep the massive Imperial force from reaching the Capital.

The Empire, figuring that Honda had merely lied upon discovering the camp, and comparing the size of the camp to the size of the army. What they did not know however, was that Honda’s forces that had broken off from the main body were positioned strategically along the edge of the fighting.

Honda was not fleeing, but acting as bait as his forces spread out around the invading army like casting a large net. The Imperial forces were fighting themselves into a cauldron, and would soon be faced with encirclement. Eventually, Honda would turn his forces around, and have his forces close the gap behind the invading army, surrounding them, cutting off their supply lines, and crushing them from all sides.

While the main brunt of Imperial forces were kept in this cauldron, the Shogun’s three remaining generals, Sakakibara Terumasa, Sakai Koremasa, and Ii Tokitada, had landed their own invasion forces in Koshi, Iwake, and Rikuchu provinces respectively. With the majority of Imperial forces occupied and encircled in the Izumo heartland, the path to the Imperial Capital would be relatively unguarded, and the Shogun’s forces could push their way to the Emperor’s palace and declare victory once and for all.

It was only because of a sudden and devastating outbreak of the black rot sickness did the war come to a complete stop, and Ise was saved by seeming divine intervention. The intervention, while crucial in stopping the advancing samurai armies for fear of catching the rot and spreading it to Izumo, had been just as costly, if not more, to Ise.

While Ise was spared destruction, the massive outbreak–the deadliest since the Shotai Outbreak during the Shotai Era (Common Years 973-976) had wiped out most of the ranking Imperial family members, courtiers, and government officials. For reference, the Shotai Outbreak had been so deadly it had wiped out an estimate quarter of Yamato’s population and was said to have been the start of the conflict between two Imperial lineages that would lead to the schism between Shogunate and Empire.

In the Go-Horikawa Outbreak, Ise lost it’s reigning Emperor Go-Horikawa, his mother, the Cloistered Empress Meisho, his great-uncle the Retired Emperor Go-Suzaku, his great-grandfathe the Retired Emperor Go-Suzaku, the Emperor’s daughter, the appointed Crown Princess, the Regent (who was also the Chancellor of State), most of the government ministers and large swaths of the nobility, courtiers, and even several regional governors and Imperial representatives. Many common folk died as well, but it was the crippling of a majority of the Imperial government that forced them to sue for peace.

Izumo, wishing to avoid contracting the disease and returning it to their homeland, agreed to the peace terms, which were uncharacteristically favourable to them. This was likely due to the fact that government appointments and promotions were hastily made by those who remained alive. Many were young, inexperienced courtiers, second, third, or fourth sons of mighty courtiers and ministers who had never thought to instill their wisdom in such superfluous and spare children. These men and women had been hastily appointed by the late Go-Horikawa’s Empress, mother and regent to the new teenage emperor, Korakuen, who was only seventeen at the time of his ascension and had not originally been in line to inherit the throne (his father, Go-Horikawa, had believed his daughter, the late Crown Princess, to be better suited to rule than his son).

In the peace deal, for it cannot be called a negotiation, the borders at the time of peace were frozen and held as the new status quote. The Shogunate did lose Izumi and Settsu, but had gained three provinces on the other side of Yamato; Rikuchu, Iwaki, and Koshi.

The hope was that as soon as the outbreak had ended, and both sides were regrouped, the war could be continued; the Shogunate believed they could simply continue their invasion as before, while the Empire believed they could pull back from the encirclement in the meantime, and focus on expunging the invasion forces and return the borders to the previous status quo–at the very least.

This, however, did not come to pass. For one reason or another, continuing action was constantly delayed, until the Old Shogun passed, and his son, the Shogun Mitsutaka, had not the taste for war, destruction and blood shed any longer. He prefer, instead, to oversee a stable era of detente and–if not peace–at the very least, not war. It is an uneasy truce, at best, and one that seems more like to shatter sooner, if not later.

And so the Dragon of Izumi and the Tiger of Ise remain, locked in their deadly embrace, with the tiger’s fangs sunk deep in the dragon’s belly’s, while the Dragon’s Claw’s (another name for the Shogunate’s far flung provinces) gouge into the tiger’s back.