2025-01-02

Yaesu Central Tower

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Yaesu Central Tower: Centerpiece of the Tokyo Midtown Yaesu Project
八重洲セントラルタワー:東京ミッドタウン八重洲の中心


Opened in 2022, Yaesu Central Tower provides a striking contrast to the rails, power lines, and platforms of Tokyo Station, which first welcomed travelers 108 years earlier in 1914.

Its sleek steel and glass facade reflects the crisp blue winter sky, standing as the centerpiece of the Tokyo Midtown Yaesu development project.

My first visit to the Tokyo Station area was back in the late ’80s on a Hato Bus Tour with my friend’s mother. She had originally bought two tickets expecting to go with her son, but he, being a bit spoiled and uninterested in visiting Tokyo Station or the Imperial Palace with his mom, asked if I would take his place. I was more than happy to oblige! At the time, Hato Bus Tours were quite trendy, and the tour came with a free lunch—an added bonus! What started as a spontaneous day out turned into a long-term friendship with my friend’s mother, which continues to this day.

Back then, the Yaesu side of Tokyo Station looked entirely different. Standing on the eastern Marunouchi side, I could barely see any of the office buildings or hotels beyond the station—only the top floors of the Daimaru department store, which occupied the old Railway Kaikan Building (more commonly known as the Yaesu-guchi Station Building・八重洲口駅ビル). At that time, Tokyo Station itself was still just two stories high, before its 2012 restoration brought it back to its original three-story structure.

For years, Tokyo Station has merely been a transit point for me—somewhere I passed through while commuting to client meetings in the city or transferring to the bullet train for business trips to Nagano. I never considered revisiting the area for leisure.

But on this particular day, after visiting the nearby Imperial Palace, I finally took some time to explore the surroundings. I sought out a few quieter spots, avoiding the more crowded areas, and allowed myself to take in the changes.

It had been over 30 years since I last visited this area as a tourist rather than a salaryman. The transformation of the Yaesu side was staggering—I could hardly believe how much the skyline had changed over the decades! I asked myself, “How did I miss all this development?” Then I realized—just as people today are glued to their phones, I was likely buried in my newspaper during my commutes, never bothering to look up and take in the city evolving around me.

  • Location: Tokyo Station, Tokyo
  • Timestamp: 2025/01/02・13:41
  • Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
  • ISO 320 for 1/950 sec. at ƒ/4.0
  • Astia/Soft film simulation

  • Location: N700A Series Shinkansen Bullet Train departing Tokyo Station
  • Timestamp: 2025/01/02・13:41
  • Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
  • ISO 160 for 1/680 sec. at ƒ/3.6
  • Provia/Standard film simulation

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© 2011-2025 Pix4Japan. All rights reserved.
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Tokyo Station

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Tokyo Station: Neo-Baroque Elegance in a Modern Cityscape
東京駅のレトロな優雅さと丸の内の現代的な輝き


After visiting the Imperial Palace, I walked a few blocks east and arrived at a grand view of Tokyo Station and the spacious Marunouchi Square in front of it.

Opened in 1914, Tokyo Station has preserved its elegant Neo-Baroque architecture, standing in striking contrast to the modern steel-and-glass skyscrapers of the Marunouchi business district.

Built with an extensive steel frame using materials imported from England, the station features a distinctive red-brick facade and ribbed domes crowning its north and south wings. This sturdy design allowed the three-story building to survive both the 1923 Great Kanto Earthquake and, to some extent, the wartime bombings and fires of 1945. After the war, restoration efforts reduced the station to a two-story structure, but a five-year project completed in 2012 restored it to its original three-story grandeur.

During the restoration, engineers discovered that the ten thousand pine pillars supporting the foundation were still remarkably resilient—one of the key reasons the station withstood the 1923 earthquake.

The main terminal’s dome, inspired by the British Queen Anne style, is an architectural highlight. On the exterior, red bricks are elegantly accented with white granite stripes. The central entrance, which is reserved for use by the imperial family and overseas dignitaries, sits just 370 meters (1,214 feet) from the outer moat of the Imperial Palace.

Someday, I’d love to return with my other camera and telephoto lens to capture the intricate details of the gabled dormer windows, arches above the windows and doorways, and the delicate embellishments above the arches.

  • Location: Tokyo Station, Tokyo
  • Timestamp: 2025/01/02・11:35
  • Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
  • ISO 320 for 1/500 sec. at ƒ/7.1
  • Provia/Standard film simulation
  • Location: Kitte Rooftop Garden, JP Tower, Tokyo
  • Timestamp: 2025/01/02・13:35
  • Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
  • ISO 320 for 1/800 sec. at ƒ/7.1
  • Classic Negative film simulation

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Copyright Notice for All Images:
© 2011-2025 Pix4Japan. All rights reserved.
Unauthorized use for AI training is strictly prohibited.
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Tatsumi-Yagura Guard Tower

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Tatsumi-Yagura: One of the Three Surviving Watchtowers of Edo Castle
皇居に残る江戸城巽櫓


The Tatsumi-Yagura, the only surviving sumiyagura (corner watchtower) of the former Edo Castle, stands as a testament to Japan’s feudal-era fortifications. These watchtowers, built at key points along the castle walls, played a crucial role in surveillance and defense.

This particular two-story tower is formally known as the Sakurada Tatsumi Double Yagura, though it’s more commonly referred to as the Tatsumi-Yagura (with tatsumi meaning southeast and yagura meaning guard tower or watchtower). It is one of the largest two-tiered watchtowers in Japan.

Two distinctive architectural features of the Tatsumi-Yagura are its stone drop (ishi-otoshi, 石落) and its gable-end motifs.

The stone drop is a section of the tower that projects slightly outward over the stone wall above the moat. This design allowed defenders to drop stones or pour boiling water on attackers attempting to scale the walls, while still maintaining a narrow opening that prevented enemies from using it to climb up.

Another notable feature, though not clearly visible in my photo, is the gable end on the right side of the roof, which bears a decorative seikaiha (青海波) motif—a repeating pattern of water waves that has adorned temples, halls, and gates since the pro-to-modern period (17th to mid-19th century). 

Beyond its historical significance, what captivates me most about this scene is the way the crisp blue sky and mirror-like moat frame the tower, while intricate details of the roof eaves, gable ends, and fish-shaped ornaments (shachihoko, 鯱鉾) on the roof-ridge add to its elegance.

  • Location: Imperial Palace, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo
  • Timestamp: 11:25・2025/01/02
  • Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
  • ISO 320 for 1/500 sec. at ƒ/8.0
  • Provia/Standard film simulation

References:

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© 2011-2025 Pix4Japan. All rights reserved.
Unauthorized use for AI training is strictly prohibited.
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Kikyo-Mon Gate

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Kikyō-Mon Gate: Reflections on an Edo Moat at Tokyo Imperial Palace
皇居桔梗門:江戸の歴史を映す濠の水鏡


This photo captures a side view of Kikyō-Mon Gate, a historic entrance to Tokyo Imperial Palace that is typically closed to the general public. It serves as a side entrance for Imperial Palace volunteers and authorized visitors.

Officially named Uchi-Sakuradamon, the gate is more commonly known as Kikyō-Mon (桔梗門), a name derived from the bellflower (kikyō) family crest that is inscribed on the round eave-end tiles of its roof.

Built in 1614, the gate stands atop stone walls constructed in 1620 along Kikyo Moat. However, Edo Castle itself predates these structures, with its foundations laid in 1457 under the direction of Ōta Dōkan (1432–1486), a samurai lord, poet, and Buddhist monk. He is credited as the architect and builder of Edo Castle—what is now the Imperial Palace in modern Tokyo.

At its peak, Edo Castle had 36 gates guarding its bridges and moats. However, after the last shogun resigned in 1867, much of the land within the outermost moat was transformed into Marunouchi, which became the heart of Tokyo’s central business district. Today, Marunouchi is home to major financial institutions and Tokyo Station. Of the original 36 gates, only 11 remain, now primarily serving as security checkpoints to the Imperial Palace.

I typically avoid taking photos on bright, cloudless afternoons, but on this particular photo walk, the crisp blue winter sky and still air provided a rare opportunity. The moat’s calm surface perfectly reflected the historic gate, stone walls, and sky, creating a striking composition that I couldn't resist capturing.

  • Location: Imperial Palace, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo
  • Timestamp: 2025/01/02・11:21
  • Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
  • ISO 320 for 1/500 sec. at ƒ/9.0
  • Provia/Standard film simulation

References:

Copyright Notice for All Images:
© 2011-2025 Pix4Japan. All rights reserved.
Unauthorized use for AI training is strictly prohibited.
Visit www.pix4japan.com to learn more.



Fujimi-Yagura

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Fujimi-Yagura: One of Tokyo’s Last Edo Castle Guard Towers
皇居に残る江戸城富士見櫓


The Fujimi-Yagura guard tower, originally built in 1606, was destroyed in a 1657 fire and later reconstructed in 1659. This three-story tower, standing about 16 meters (52.49 feet) high, was designed with an architectural trick—it appears the same shape from any angle, earning it the nickname “Eight-Sided Tower.”

Over the centuries, the tower endured further challenges. It suffered damage in the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923, leading to repairs that shaped its present form.

For over two centuries, before Edo was renamed Tokyo and transformed into a city of high-rise buildings, the top floor of Fujimi-Yagura offered sweeping views of Mount Fuji, distant mountain peaks, and Tokyo Bay. This scenic vantage point gave the tower its name, Fujimi (富士見), meaning "a view of Mount Fuji"—a combination of "Fuji" (Mount Fuji) and "mi" (to see).

Beneath the tower, its stone wall foundation is among the oldest surviving stone walls within the former Edo Castle grounds. The base of the tower is built in the uchikomi-hagi (打込矧ぎ) style, one of the principal techniques of Japanese castle stone wall construction.

In the uchikomi-hagi method, large boulders were split into smaller pieces, and the stones' faces were carefully chipped to create a flatter surface. Smaller stones were tightly wedged into the remaining gaps, ensuring a seamless fit—all without mortar. This intricate craftsmanship allowed the wall to withstand centuries of earthquakes, a testament to the ingenuity of Japan’s castle builders.

As I viewed the Fujimi-Yagura tower through my camera’s viewfinder, I couldn’t help but reflect on how this historic watchtower has silently witnessed Tokyo’s transformation. The contrast between the centuries-old stonework and the glass-and-steel skyscrapers towering behind it stayed on my mind, and I felt grateful to capture both past and present in a single frame—an enduring piece of Edo’s history standing amid the ever-changing city skyline.

  • Location: Imperial Palace, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo
  • Timestamp: 11:10・2025/01/02
  • Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
  • ISO 320 for 1/500 sec. at ƒ/8.0
  • Provia/Standard film simulation

References:

Copyright Notice for All Images:
© 2011-2025 Pix4Japan. All rights reserved.
Unauthorized use for AI training is strictly prohibited.
Visit www.pix4japan.com to learn more.



New Year's Greeting

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Welcoming the New Year: Emperor at Chōwa-Den Hall
新年の皇居、長和殿に響く歓声


The Imperial Family greeted visitors at the Imperial Palace in central Tokyo, Japan, during the New Year’s celebration—a modern tradition that dates back to 1951.

Upon entering the palace gardens, we underwent security checks, including bag inspections and a body scan with a metal detector wand. Once cleared, volunteers handed out paper Japanese flags to visitors, a small but symbolic gesture that added to the festive atmosphere.

The wait to enter the courtyard lasted about 90 minutes, as security personnel guided groups of several hundred visitors at a time. Once inside, we only had to wait another 15 minutes before the Imperial Family appeared behind the protective glass barrier of the Chōwa-den (長和殿) Reception Hall veranda. This year, the number of visitors was notably limited, with only about 14,000 people granted access to the palace grounds.

In his greeting, Emperor Naruhito expressed his concern for those affected by natural disasters, particularly the massive earthquake that struck the Noto Peninsula on New Year's Day 2024. Acknowledging the hardships many still endure, he stated, “I am concerned about the many people who are still living a life full of hardships.” He concluded with a heartfelt wish: “I wish for the happiness of people in our country and around the world.”

Although barely visible in my shot, Emperor Naruhito and Empress Masako stood at the center, with other members of the Imperial Family to their left. To the emperor’s right, I was pleased to see Emperor Emeritus Akihito and Empress Emeritus Michiko. At 90, Michiko-sama had undergone surgery for a broken right femur in October, yet she attended the event without the aid of a cane. It was reassuring to see both the former emperor and empress present and seemingly in good health.

Having lived in Japan through the reigns of three emperors, I find that imperial succession has little impact on my daily life—except when dealing with official documents. Legal contracts, health insurance cards, driver’s licenses, tax forms, and even my car registration all adhere to Japan’s traditional era-based calendar system, where years are counted according to the reign of an emperor. For example:

・Emperor Hirohito’s reign: Showa 1 to 64 (1926–1989)
・Emperor Akihito’s reign: Heisei 1 to 31 (1989–2019)
・Emperor Naruhito’s reign: Reiwa 1 to present year 7 (2019–2025)

At my day job, unlike most of my peers, I regularly handle legal contracts and documents that use the era-based system. As a result, I keep a conversion chart on my desktop to ensure I correctly match Gregorian years with their corresponding era years when translating documents.

  • Location: Imperial Palace, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo
  • Timestamp: 11:03・2025/01/02
  • Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
  • ISO 320 for 1/500 sec. at ƒ/8
  • Provia/Standard film simulation

References:

Copyright Notice for All Images:
© 2011-2025 Pix4Japan. All rights reserved.
Unauthorized use for AI training is strictly prohibited.
Visit www.pix4japan.com to learn more.



Seimon-Ishibashi Bridge

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Reflections of Edo in Tokyo’s Urban Landscape
皇居の正門石橋と二重橋:歴史と現代が交わる場所


Just before entering the main courtyard, where thousands had gathered in an orderly fashion to hear the annual New Year’s greeting from Japan’s emperor and the imperial family, I crossed the moat via Nijubashi Bridge (二重橋). From here, I had a fantastic vantage point looking east—Seimon-Ishibashi Bridge (正門石橋) reflected on the moat’s still waters, the expansive Kokyo-mae Hiroba (皇居前広場) gardens stretched out in the midground, and the steel-and-glass towers of Tokyo’s Marunouchi financial district rose in the background.

It took about 90 minutes to reach Nijubashi Bridge from the plaza, where visitors patiently lined up for their turn to access the palace grounds.

Looking across the plaza, with its neatly sculpted pine trees and golden winter grass set against the gleaming skyscrapers, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the scene from this bridge over 400 years ago—when the urbanscape was still a saltwater bay.

Back in 1592, the Hibiya Inlet (日比谷入江) was an estuary that fed into Tokyo Bay. Its proximity to the Pacific Ocean allowed ships to navigate inland, transporting essential materials like lumber and quarried stone for the construction of castle structures, bridges, and fortifications. Over time, the moat before me was excavated, forming part of a vast 12-kilometer (7.5-mile) system that spiraled outward from Edo Castle. These waterways not only served defensive purposes but also enabled the marine transport of building materials and goods from distant regions, fueling Edo’s rapid expansion.

As the moats were dug, the excavated soil was repurposed to reclaim land from the Hibiya Inlet. This newly created land became the site of grand estates and meticulously designed gardens for approximately 300 daimyo feudal lords. Today, those once-private spaces have transformed into public areas—the Kokyo-mae Hiroba garden, visible in the mid-ground of my photo, and the Marunouchi district, now home to towering business complexes and Tokyo Station, hidden just beyond the skyscrapers.

What was once an undeveloped settlement along the shores of Tokyo Bay has, over four centuries, evolved into one of the world’s largest metropolises. Yet, beneath the modern cityscape, traces of old Edo remain. Many of Tokyo’s automotive expressways follow the paths of former water channels, now filled in, while railway and subway lines often align with the castle’s outer moats. Even the sites of former daimyo residences have found new purposes—housing government buildings, schools, parks, and commercial centers.

Standing on this historic bridge, I was struck by the layered history beneath my feet—a seamless blend of past and present, where echoes of Edo still shape the rhythms of Tokyo today.
 
  • Location: Imperial Palace, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo
  • Timestamp: 10:29・2025/01/02
  • Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter
  • ISO 320 for 1/500 sec. at ƒ/5.6
  • Provia/Standard film simulation

References:

Copyright Notice for All Images:
© 2011-2025 Pix4Japan. All rights reserved.
Unauthorized use for AI training is strictly prohibited.
Visit www.pix4japan.com to learn more.