The Demon of Sekigahara

A very evocative depiction of Shima Sakon
(from an 'X' account named after Sakon himself).

This time of year, for those interested in the Sengoku period (the Age of War), is strongly associated with the Battle of Sekigahara (1600) which saw Tokugawa Ieyasu defeat the forces of Ishida Mitsunari to emerge as the principal warlord of Japan. It was not a foregone conclusion, however; much depended on betrayal – the leader of one of the largest contingents of Mitsunari’s army turned on his own side, while other units were deliberately blocked from engaging by their own side.

Ieyasu, as the victor, (and the protagonist of Shogun), is often lionised, but he was fighting some very capable men on Mitsunari’s side. 

Oni Sakon

One such was “Oni Sakon” (Demon Sakon).

Shima Kiyooki Sakon was a hard man to pin down. Skilled strategist and commander, as well as experienced negotiator, he became Ishida Mitsunari’s principle advisor, and was remembered with fear by his opponents in battle, even many years after the Battle of Sekigahara. 

With Sakon, we begin his story at the end – the Battle of Sekigahara. Positioning his forces directly in front of Mitsunari’s, to form a protective bulwark, his much smaller force drove back the fierce assaults of forces commanded by Kuroda Nagamasa and Tanaka Yoshimasa. So ferocious and aggressive was Sakon that the Kuroda soldiers recounted that

 "the mere mention of his name made their hair stand on end and broke them out into a cold sweat.” (Furusato Monogatari - (Tales of our Hometown - Kuroda clan retrospective records late 17th to early 18th century).

Hira Takehiro as Sakon from the film Sekigahara

A slightly later account which drew on, amongst other things, the above Furusato Monogatari, stated,

“The sight of Ishida's general, Shima Sakon, who was said to be cunning enough to deceive the spirits and gods, performing on that day is still before my eyes even now.” (Jozan Kidan, published 1739).

These and other accounts from the Kuroda records present a picture of battle-hardened veterans who were deeply affected by the terrifying aura of Sakon. 

Another example, from the Kuroda Kafu (Chronicles of the Kuroda Family, 1688), which was an official compilation of the clan’s military exploits, describes how, for decades after the war, soldiers who had stood in the path of Sakon’s attacks would wake up screaming in the night having heard his battle cries in their dreams.

 

The Confusion over Sakon’s Armour

The almost supernatural awe and fear he inspired led to some confusion as to his appearance on the day of the battle, with anecdotes of soldiers completely disagreeing on what he wore that day. The Kuroda Koko Monogatari (Tales of the Great Lord Kuroda) which was an unofficial compilation of anecdotes and stories collected from around the 1630’s to 1660’s, before the last survivors of Sekigahara passed away, tells of a disagreement between veteran warriors who had faced Sakon’s forces as to his appearance on the battlefield:

One veteran said,

"He was wearing pitch-black armour. His helmet had no flashy crest or ornamentation, he carried no battle flag on his back, and he wore a persimmon-orange jinbaori (war-coat)!"

Another interrupted:,"No, no! His jinbaori was grey (mouse-colored)!"

The third man disagreed, "No, he wasn't wearing a jinbaori at all!" 

The third veteran's version

In a later account in the Jozan Kidan (Jozan's Tales), this story is amplified, with the search for retainers amongst the Kuroda who had previously served Ishida Mitsunari and fought alongside Sakon on the battlefield of Sekigahara. After their enquiries, it was established that Sakon wore a helmet with bright vermilion-red horns, dark-lacquered barrel armor (tamenuri okegawa-do), and a turquoise blue-green cotton jinbaori.

This confusion in appearance has extended right down to the present day – if you check online, you will find quite some variety in supposedly accurate depictions and descriptions of how Sakon was dressed at Sekigahara.

Part of this confusion is Japanese colour terminology, especially in the case of his jinbaori. The colour given in the account is asagi, similar to turquoise, that falls just on the blue side of the blue-green divide. Like any colour, there are variations, but basically, if you think turquoise blue-green, you won’t be too far off. 

You can see the range of blues available for modern kimono - I'm sure warriors weren't quite as precise.

However, there is another colour called asagi (though usually written with a different second character). This is a pale buff or mustard colour, hence the ‘light yellow’ description you find in some English sources online. Generally, it seems to be accepted that the bluish asagi is correct in this case. The same confusion exists in the jinbaori of the Shinsengumi, which are also adjudged to have used the blue asagi (although they are usually depicted in a kind of bright light blue).

This re-enactment has a suitable colour for the jinbaori.
Note the tentsuki ('horns') on the helmet, too. 

The colour of his armour can also be slightly confusing as it is described as tamanuri, which more strictly refers to a lacquer style rather than colour, (tamanuri is found in several different colours) though in this case, I think a dark reddish brown seems most likely – perhaps the key point is that it has an air of practicality and lack of ostentation. The style of armour itself, okegawa-do, reinforces this impression, as it was more common among lower ranking samurai rather than leaders. This attitude is underlined by his use of a rope around his waist to tie up his jinbaori.

I don't know why the jinbaori is this green, but the armour is correct,
the helmet, too (although the tentsuki are a little long.

Contemporary depictions and replicas of his armour seem to favour black, reflecting a choice on the part of museum curators and illustrators that seems to match his character – your worst nightmare on the battlefield. It could also be argued that this reflects the story in the Kuroda Koko Monogatari, where the old warriors were arguing about the colour of the jinbaori, but not disputing the armour. The armour on display at Sekigahara, as well as some of the re-enactments and parades follow this dark aesthetic, and thus it has become de-facto for many of his depictions. The dark green jinbaori seems to have been chosen just because it looks good with the black armour. You can see this in the poster for the upcoming 2026 Sekigahara Festival, as well as in some of the illustrations on this page – some have opted for an even more restricted colour scheme, and though it looks good to my eyes, I don’t think it would be so much to the taste of Sengoku leaders.

Poster for the upcoming Sekigahara Festival
featuring Tsuyoshi Nagano's Sakon

Sakon’s Helmet

His helmet is described as having a tall helmet bowl and long, vermillion “horns” – not actual horns, but a decoration known as tentsuki (天衝) (you will see this with different readings and explanations/translations online, but tentsuki is correct for armour) mounted on the front of his helmet. (Tentsuki, by the way, is perhaps best translated as “piercing heaven”). These are depicted in the Battle of Sekigahara screen below.

Tentsuki were not uncommon, but this is the only version I have seen that were red. The description reads ‘ shu’, which is vermillion, but although this tends to mean quite an orange-ish red these days, vermillion coloured lacquer is generally a straight-forward red. 

One of the more monotone colour choices
for Sakon's armour – but it looks good.

Visibility was the point: they served as a vital means of identification for rallying and directing troops (and avoiding friendly fire). In Sakon’s case, it also allowed him to be targeted by Kuroda musket fire. He was wounded, and withdrew temporarily. Later, he charged back into battle where, it was presumed, he lost his life. 

This is from the right hand panel (top left corner) of one of the 
Sekigahara Kassen Byobu (possibly in the Sekigahara Museum,
although there is another version in Hikone Castle, home of the Ii
family. Both versions are mid 19th century copies of the original painted by
Kano Baishun around 100 years earlier.

However, his body was not found, nor was his head presented for Tokugawa Ieyasu to view, as would have been customary. Although the Togawa family claimed to have taken his head (together with his helmet, which is in the Kunozan Toshogu Shrine), this begs the question of why they did not present it. Furthermore, the Kuroda Kafu specifically states his body was not identified (although the Kuroda forces were looking for it), which suggests the head and helmet belonged to someone else, possibly one of Sakon’s command group who may have worn similar armour. It is also worth noting that the helmet doesn’t match the description given above.

The helmet in Kunozan Toshogu Shrine.
said to be Sakon's. It is often on display around
the anniversary of Sekigahara

So, how much do we know?

A lot of the information online is only partially accurate or presents later accounts (or even fiction) as contemporary fact, which is why I took care to give the historical sources of the various anecdotes. None of them are strictly contemporary, and there is bound to have been some embellishment, but the various Kuroda records were based on what stories, recollections and hearsay the writers could gather. I think the image of Sakon as striking terror into his opponents comes through very strongly.

Is the account of his armour accurate? It’s not terribly important and I suppose we will never know, but I like to have an image of what people look like, so apologies to those who don’t find it quite as interesting as I do. The battle gear (for want of a better term) was important in those days - the point of the story was not what Sakon wore, but the fact that even veteran warriors were so affected by the sight of Sakon that they could not remember accurately. 

The Latest News...!

There is still much we don’t know about this extremely experienced and capable commander, but new information continues to be found. Just last month, September 2026, it was announced that new documents had been found broadening our understanding of his character and role in affairs of the time. 

I will be writing more about that in my next post (as well as his possible escape from death). 

In the meantime, if you want to know a bit more about Shima Sakon, I recommend the 2017 movie, Sekigahara. It is based on Shiba Ryotaro’s novel and tells the story from the point of view of Mitsunari. Sakon has a large role and is portrayed very sympathetically. The battle itself is perhaps the worst part of the film - depressing and a bit thin on extras, but the rest is good.

A poster for the film 'Sekigahara'

Finally, Oni Sakon, again

This term was not applied to Sakon in any contemporary documents. It seems to have appeared in the mid to late Edo period. The connection first appears in the Jozan Kidan (1739), which describes him (as I quoted above) as  “cunning enough to deceive the spirits and gods”. The character for spirits and gods is 鬼神 (kijin or kishin), denoting fierce supernatural beings. The first character is also read as ‘oni’, and from this it was a small step to transferring the epithet to Sakon himself.

3 Outlaw Samurai

3 Outlaw Samurai: Kikyo (Mikijiro Hira), Shiba, (Tetsuro Tamba), Sakura (Isamu Nagato) 

(N.B. I have written the names in this blog English style (surnames last) as actors' and directors' names are most familiar in this format).

    Although it was directed by the famous Hideo Gosha (his first film, in fact) this film is one that had passed me by until quite recently. But having seen it, I strongly recommend it – it may be a bit less dense than many of the films in the genre, and it certainly rattles along at a fine pace, but these are features that make it very watchable. Filmed in 1964, you may have seen Tetsuro Tamba in You Only Live Twice as Tiger Tanaka of the Japanese Secret Service, and if you were a Water Margin fan in 70’s Britain, you will recognise Isamu Nagato as a similar character, Lu Ta, the flower priest. (Tamba also appeared in the same series, although not in a major role). 

    In fact, it was filmed as an origin story for the successful TV series of the same name that started the previous year and ran till 1969. Hideo Gosha was the director of the TV series, so this gave home the chance to go to town with his characters. It might be worth mentioning that Sanbiki uses the counter for animals, rather than people. (The Seven Samurai is Shichinin no Samurai, with nin being the counter for people). Of course, this emphasizes the lawlessness of the 3 protagonists. But on to the story.

    

Shots like this show Gosha's skill at framing action.

    It’s a classic story of the loner fighting on behalf of the oppressed against a corrupt system, although, as the title suggests, there are three loners rather than one, and the scenario is not explored in great detail - it is only a pretext for the action and a gradual revealing of the three protagonists’ individual characters. Perhaps it was this mix of characters that helped its popularity the small screen, where it ran as a series for a number of years (1964-69).

    It draws from what was becoming a popular genre, both on the large and small screen (and , indeed, in literature) – better known films in a similar key such as Yojimbo (1961) and Zatoichi (1962) preceded it, and it has something of the same feel, combining elements from both - compassion, sentimentality, justice, not to mention the cool calculation of heroes like Ichikawa Raizo’s Nemuri Kyoshiro in the series of the same name. Nevertheless, it stands on its own merits.

Another shot showing Gosha's skill at composition.

    In common with several,other films of this period, it both supports and subverts the image of the samurai as a heroic warrior. The three heroes each have their own code of ethics, but many of those around them, the system, so to speak. These men are outcasts, in part, because of their refusal to bend to a system that fails to recognise the importance of the softer virtues to temper the bald use of power. The growth of a new Japan, as well as memories of the war, obviously played into these kinds of attitudes, and though it champions the underdog, it also highlights the complicity of the ruled in their situation.

    However, rather than offer homilies, it invites the viewer to observe, then with a shrug of its shoulders, continues on its way, as indeed, do the heroes.

The heroes walk off, content to let fate lead them.

    If you enjoy early Kurosawa, or the Zatoichi series, you’ll love this, too.

    For context, here are the release dates of some other relevant films:

7 Samurai 1954

Yojimbo 1961

Zatoichi 1962

Sanbiki no Samurai 1964

Sanbiki no Samurai Tv series 1963-69

Nemuri Kyoshiro (film series starring Ichikawa Raizo) 1963-1969

Musashi's lost sumo wrestlers

 

A detail of the sumo scene attributed to Musashi - I must admit 
that I thought it was an "oni" at first.

I started out writing this blog thinking that I would simply introduce one of Miyamoto Musashi’s little known artworks – and in this case, it is, in fact, a lost artwork – but as it went on, it became clear that it would require rather more explanation than I had at first thought.

Not least of the problems is that the remaining images of this work (destroyed in a fire in 1984) are so poor in quality that any definitive judgement is difficult to make. Nevertheless, I think it’s worth a look.

Background

Miyamoto Musashi is, of course, well known for his painting as well as his skills with the sword. As regular readers will know, I am interested in both aspects, and the intersection between the two. His most famous works include his depiction of a shrike sitting watchfully on a dead branch and his paintings of Bodhidharma, and in both of these, we can see something of the concentration and intensity he must have brought to his martial arts. 

Musashi was nothing if not versatile, and he turned his hand to a number of themes, some of which are rarely seen or little known, especially in the English-speaking world.

One such theme has a far closer relationship to combat than most, and as I could find no mention of it at all in English, I thought it might be interesting to take a closer look at his (attributed) painting of sumo wrestlers – an unlikely subject, perhaps, but this was an ema, a votive tablet, that Musashi had painted when he was a guest of one Oka Heijuro (岡平十郎), at the Ogo Kannon-do temple in Aioi City, Hyogo Prefecture.)

The better of the two reproductions of the painting attributed to Musashi.

It is worth noting that although it is attributed to Musashi, it is by no means certain that he painted it. While the possibility is there, there are a few problems.

First, the dates don’t quite match up - Oka, a direct descendant of the monk Gyōan who had built the temple in the C12^th, had rebuilt the main hall of the temple (destroyed by fire in the C14^th) after he had been cured of a serious eye disease by following the directions of the temple’s deity, but this wasn’t until several years after Musashi’s death. Oga is described as a domori, a temple guardian or caretaker, who funded the rebuilding, so it seems he was a man of means, and might have hosted Musashi at an earlier date. Such disparities, however, are always something of a red flag.

In any case, so the story goes, Musashi painted the votive plaque out of thanks for the hospitality he received. It was quite large - 1.2m x 0.8m, and painted on a zelkova wood panel – a painting this size suggests Oka was a generous host.

The first, legendary sumo bout by Takeishi Keisho (1885) (Courtesy of the JSA)

Theme

The subject was the contest between Nomi no Sukune and Taima no Kehaya – the original sumo bout, (July 7th, 7th year of the legendary Emperor Suinin's reign – 22BCE) in which Taima lost his life. Nomi no Sukune is also credited with ending human sacrifice by making ceramic figures to be buried in tombs, so there is a thematic connection between him and ema, which seem – originally – to have been offerings to shrines in place of horses. Horses were not sacrificed, but they had sacred connections. However, stabling such gifts put a financial strain on shrines, so painted depictions of horses (ema) became a preferred offering.

Not surprisingly, the most common motif of these votive plaques was originally horses, but by the late Muromachi, other themes, became more common, as did increasingly large ema, some of which were produced by famous artists such as those of the Kano school. 

Muromachi period ema from the Kano school

There is one interesting example of an ema that is associated with Oishi Kuranosuke, leader of the 47 Ronin, that is tentatively dated to the Tenna era (1681-89) and shows a similar degree of deterioration to wrestler piece. Interestingly, although the colours have worn off in places, the ink strokes may be clearly seen. Though much of the dedication can no longer be read, it bears Oishi's name, suggesting that he donated it. 

This is a detail of the ema connected to Oishi Kuranosuke
(leader of the 47 ronin) showing the head of Hotei. It's difficult
to make out – Hotei's right eye is roughly in the centre of the
painting.

Although the wrestlers would be an unusual motif, it is possible that it was painted by Musashi.

Style

The deterioration makes it difficult to judge on stylistic grounds. The figures are, in some ways, relatively primitive, but the joint pose of the two figures is very similar to an Ukiyo-e print produced some 200 years after Musashi's time, suggesting that the motif may have been drawn from such a source. This, would, of course make it a much later work. Depictions of sumo wrestlers seem to be rare before the 1800s, and figure paintings generally show less bombast than the Ukiyo-e works by artists such as Hokusai and Kuniyoshi. However, ema are an exception, and there are examples of more dynamic figures in that tradition. Having said that, many, if not most, ema that feature dynamic human figures filling the frame seem to date from the 1800’s, such as this example by Kano Hogai (around the late 1840’s).

Kano Hogai - Takeuchi no Sukune casting jewels

A closer look at the painting 

Note the left arms of the two figures in this reproduction.

There are a couple of other things worth noting about this image. Despite the poor quality of the photographs, it is possible to see there are some differences between the two. In one of them, some of the lines seem to have been retouched or overdrawn. The left arm, in particular, seems to show this. In the two details above, you can see the faces look slightly different – in particular, the eyes appear to be in slightly different positions, with one looking up towards the other wrestler (with the left eye looking in the same direction), and the other, out towards the viewer (with the left eye obscured).

The nature of paintings on wood means that as they deteriorate, different aspects of the underpainting are revealed, so some parts that look particularly pale in the photograph may have been dark originally. The wrestler on the right seems to have bug eyes, but this is a result of deterioration of the paint surface and the underpainting showing through, while the face of the wrestler on the left is very unclear in both photographs.

Who is winning? That is another question. Below is a detail of an Edo period print by Utagawa Yoshitora which is very similar in some respects, although the position of the right arm and left leg is different. The figure on the left is more dynamic in the painting, and the outstretched hand looks as if he is poised for a strike, having used his left leg to prevent his opponent's attempted throw. It looks as if he is in position for a winning move.

Kawazu gake. the figure on the right is almost exactly
the same last the Musashi ema.

The print shows the technique known as kawazu gake, where the wrestler on the right applies a leg entanglement. This is part of a move that then uses a lean of the body to throw the opponent (though in this case, it looks to be a counter to an attempted throw). This throw is not often seen in sumo - it is difficult to apply - and though it exists in judo, it is illegal because of the potential damage to the opponent's knee.

This is the print from which the detail is taken.
Kawazu gake is illustrated in the top right corner of this print

To get an idea of what it would have looked like in its prime, we can look at surviving pictures and prints of wrestlers. There are a few dating from around Musashi's time, perhaps the most well-known being the Sumo Yurakuzu Byobu (Yurakuzu is a genre depicting various recreations – here, sumo), which is famous for featuring a black wrestler. 

There are a few other paintings from around this time (and a bit later), but as a genre, depictions of sumo did not become common until the ukiyo-e prints of the 1800s. It is there that we can see the characteristics that are most familiar, and these stylized images are certainly vigorous and visually arresting, with the figures forming the greater part of the composition. By contrast, early figure paintings tend to feature figures as part of a scene, and often quite a small part.

A typical ukiyo-e scene (by Utagawa Kuniyoshi) which shows  
more stylised, dynamic wrestlers.

In this case, the Musashi picture falls somewhere between the two. Its poor condition makes it difficult to make any hard and fast judgements about its authenticity, but stylistically, the indications point towards a later date. 

So is this really a Musashi painting? We can't tell for sure, especially now that it has been destroyed. As an ema, it is in a category sufficiently different from Musashi's other paintings that the dissimilarity does not disqualify it from being his. At the same time, the depiction of the figures, particularly the similarity to a later ukiyo-e print, does raise questions. It remains an interesting and little known possibility.