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In October 2025, I went to Kyushu on a research trip sponsored by Nichibunken. I was investigating the seafarers, shipbuilders and pirates that lurked in Kyushu’s waters in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. That is my specialization and something I am passionate about. When in Kyushu, I was amazed by the richness of the cultural festivities that occur there during the month of October, as I coincidentally ended up visiting cities celebrating one matsuri or another. However, the goal of my trip was to conduct research in a number of archives, so I did not get to experience all the festivities.

I was particularly struck by Tsushima, the island ruled from the 14th to the 19th century by the Sō family, who juggled trade, piracy, and managing diplomatic relations between Japan and Chosŏn dynasty Korea. I had pictured the main settlement of Izuhara very differently, but it was a peaceful harbour with narrow streets and houses with Korean and Chinese roof tiles. I arrived there on a Sunday, when the archive of the main museum was closed. However, there was a ceremony at the Hachiman shrine, as October is Kannazuki, the months without deities. The shrine priests chanted and the miko performed kagura sacred dances to open the festivities, which concluded with the throwing of rice cakes into the audience, who eagerly caught them for good luck and prosperity.

Izuhara harbor on Tsushima. （Photo by the author.）

Earlier that day I had come across a couple of smaller museums, including one for the official envoys from Korea (Tsushinshi). The museum exhibited a replica of the ship which carried the envoys from Korea, along with the documents sent by the Korean monarch to the Tokugawa shogun, and sketches of the processions the envoys made on their travels to Kyoto.

A model of the ships which transported the envoys between Korea and Tsushima. （Photo by the author.）

Their work as peacemakers, translators, and facilitators of an often troubled peace was vital; they were to report on the situation in a neighboring country, exchanging intelligence as well as tribute. Such envoys were key political figures, and could shape events. In 1590, when the King of Chosŏn sent envoys to Japan to find out if Japan was getting ready to attack Korea, the envoys returned with contradictory reports. The King therefore downplayed the seriousness of the situation, leaving Korea unprepared to withstand the Japanese invasion.

The role of the tsushinshi was as complex as that of modern historians, who have to reconstruct historical events and situations from mere fragments of the past, such as diaries, letters, documents, material culture and artisanal practices, as well as archeological discoveries. Like historians, tsushinshi relied on their knowledge and intuition.
When I was in the first year of my doctoral degree, we were presented with what was called the “box of Great Aunt Amelia.” This was a box of unknown origin containing photos of a Great Aunt Amelia in the 1920s, together with a travel book, some personal objects, half a photo with a man (a boyfriend?), and a pair of glasses. The postgrad students had to investigate who Great Aunt Amelia was. However, when all possible inquiries into families and grannies were concluded, the life of Great Aunt Amelia was not as adventurous as the postgrad students had imagined. The travel book was someone else’s, the man in the photo was an in-law married to a sister of Great Aunt Amelia, and the other objects had been collected and put into the box over the years.

The conclusion was: “we have to investigate every little lead before we can pronounce on historical truth,” leaving nothing to the imagination. What, though, would I have done if I were an envoy?

The author attired as an envoy. （Photographed by a friend. ）