Emishi – The Forgotten People of the Japanese Islands Before Yamato and the Ainu
“Of all the northern barbarians, the Emishi are the strongest. Men and women live freely together. In winter, they dwell in dugouts; in summer – in huts. They wear arrows in their hair and swords in their bosom. They dress in furs, drink blood; they are suspicious and vengeful.”
– Nihon Shoki, 8th century
For a moment, we leave behind the Japan of the samurai. We set aside the quiet zen gardens, the flash of crossing tachi blades, and the codes of war. We move backward – past the military rule of the Minamoto shōguns and the regents of the Hōjō clan. We pass the flourishing of courtly poetry and the rustle of silk robes in Heian-kyō – until we arrive in antiquity, in a time when the Yamato state was only beginning to shape what we would later call Japan. The Yamato kingdom was not yet an archipelago of harmony but an island of clashes, conquests, and efforts to define itself. At the center of this story stands the imperial court, but on its northern fringes – no less significant – lived others, who too called this land home. And although we have already written much about the inhabitants of Hokkaidō (Ezo), about the Ainu and their kamuy spirits, about the bear cult and the research of Bronisław Piłsudski – today we go even deeper. For before the Ainu, there was yet another people. Forgotten. Uncomfortable. The Emishi.
Emishi – 蝦夷 – is one of those words that, in the mouths of ancient Japanese, rang like a warning. The kanji of their name conceal wildness (夷) and shrimp (蝦), but it wasn’t crustaceans that were meant here, rather metaphors: the “hairy people of the East,” whose beards, bows, and horses supposedly proved their barbarity. This is how the Yamato state recorded them – but what they called themselves vanished with their language. We do not know the name they used for their people, though some scholars suggest it may have been related to the Ainu word emchiu – “human.” They inhabited today’s Tōhoku region, from Kantō to the mountainous borderlands of Shimokita, and over time their descendants – displaced or destroyed – probably migrated to Hokkaidō. Archaeology tells us they lived in semi-subterranean dwellings (tateana jukyū 竪穴住居), fished for salmon, gathered chestnuts, tattooed their bodies, and crafted distinct warabite-tō swords with hilts shaped like fern leaves.
For nearly three centuries, the Emishi mounted armed resistance to Yamato expansion. They refused to adopt the rice-based ritsuryō administrative system, would not swear fealty to the emperor, nor recognize his divine mandate. Their war – on horseback, in forests and valleys, with bows and poisoned arrows – was a war for freedom, but also for a place in memory. Today, that memory is almost gone, obscured by the narrative of unity and homogeneity in Japan. And yet, the names of old Emishi chieftains survive in family names and certain geographic locations, traces of their villages rest beneath layers of ash in northern archaeological sites on Honshu, and legends about them still live in the murmur of Tōhoku’s mountain forests. Today, we attempt to listen.
Who Were the Emishi?
What does language say?
The word Emishi (蝦夷) already carries a full burden of political and cultural associations at the level of kanji characters. The first character – 蝦 (ka, “shrimp”) – does not in fact refer to crustaceans, but serves a phonetic role (later, in the Kamakura period, this character came to be used for the name Ainu), while the second – 夷 (i) – has a rich semantic history throughout the Sinocentric world. In ancient Chinese texts, 夷 referred to “peoples of the east,” in contrast to the “civilized center” – i.e., China. The Japanese adoption of this character and its use for peoples inhabiting the northern ends of Honshu was not merely descriptive but propagandistic: the Emishi became the “savages of the east” (though in truth from the north), in need of “civilizing.”
In Japanese chronicles such as the Nihon Shoki and Shoku Nihongi, the Emishi were also called kebito (毛人), literally “hairy people.” This designation referred to their allegedly more abundant facial and body hair – a trait that was said to physically distinguish them from the Yamato. Descriptions also emphasized their wearing of wild animal skins, tattoos, and the tying of hair into knots where arrows were hidden – all forming the image of a “savage,” yet also of a warrior. Some sources also refer to the Emishi as mojin (毛人) – often used interchangeably with kebito – and as iteki (夷狄), meaning “external barbarians,” those who remained outside the emperor’s authority. Unlike the fushu (俘囚) – “subjugated barbarians,” or Emishi who had pledged allegiance to Yamato – the iteki were enemies.
In later contexts, from the Heian period onward, the term Ezo (蝦夷) began to be used interchangeably with Emishi, though more as a geographic-ethnographic label for the peoples inhabiting Japan’s northern extremities and Hokkaidō (hence the frequent conflation of the Ainu with the Emishi, though they were two entirely different peoples). In the Edo period, the term was used primarily for the Ainu – and thus the boundary between ethnonym and administrative label became blurred. Interestingly, some linguists believe the term emishi may derive from the word emchiu or enjyu, which in Ainu means “human.” If this etymology is correct, the irony lies in the fact that the people labeled as “wild” and “other” may have simply called themselves… humans.
Names of regions such as Michinoku (道の奥, “the farthest road”) or Hitakami (常道・日高見) also carry echoes of this division between center and periphery. Hitakami, one of the old names for Emishi lands, had a quasi-mythical meaning and was often idealized or demonized in Japanese sources, depending on the political context.
The Language of the Emishi
The Emishi language is one of the greatest blank spots in the linguistic history of Japan – no text survives, no word has been recorded directly from the mouths of its speakers. Yet there are ways to attempt its reconstruction. It is now most commonly accepted that the Emishi spoke an isolated language, possibly from the Paleo-Asiatic group, very close to or even identical with the proto-language of the Ainu. In linguistic studies, the Emishi are thus often classified as a pre-Ainu people – not yet Ainu, but no longer purely Jōmon either.
A strong argument for this connection lies in linguistic topography. In the Tōhoku region, there are many geographic names whose etymology cannot be explained through the Japanese language but can be interpreted through a language similar to Ainu. For example, river names containing elements like betsu (river) or nai (stream) appear both in Hokkaidō and in northern Honshu. This suggests a shared linguistic heritage or at least strong cultural contact between the Emishi and the later Ainu.
Other traces are preserved in chronicles: names of Emishi chieftains such as Aterui or More – which do not fit Japanese onomastics and can be linked to hypothetical phonemes of the proto-Ainu language. Moreover, the recording of these names in kanji – phonetic rather than semantic – suggests they were already incomprehensible to the Japanese at the time.
The Emishi language thus belonged to a world other than that of Yamato Japanese. Some theories even speculate about the existence of multiple dialects: mountain Emishi (hunters and gatherers) may have spoken differently than plains Emishi (who partially cultivated rice). Some peoples on the Kantō border may also have been bilingual – blending Old Japanese elements with their local tongue.
Interestingly, archaeological data from burials – such as tunnel-shaped burial mounds and differences in skeletal structure – indicate ethnic diversity within the Emishi themselves. Alongside Jōmon-type skulls, there are also Kofun-style types – suggesting that the Emishi community may have included clans descending from early Japanese settlers who eventually adopted Emishi culture and language.
So, have we managed to answer who the Emishi were – at least through language? The answer, though partial, allows us to outline the contours of their identity. We know they did not speak Japanese. We also know their language was related to Ainu, though likely distinct. Finally, we know their words disappeared before writing could preserve them – and yet they survive in the names of mountains, rivers, and places that now sound foreign, unclear, and ancient to Japanese ears. In linguistic studies, they remain a shadow – an echo of the language of a people who lived at the edge of the Yamato world – close enough to wage wars, yet too distant to be understood and remembered.
What Was the World of the Emishi Like?
Where did they live?
The Emishi inhabited the wild and untamed north of the island of Honshū – a land that the Japanese of the Yamato era referred to as Michinoku (陸奥), meaning “the end of the road” or “the land at the edge of the land.” Today, we know this region as Tōhoku – a vast mosaic of mountains, forests, rivers, and harsh winters. The boundaries of Emishi territories were fluid and ever-changing – stretching from the eastern edges of the Kantō region through the entire northeast of Honshū and up to the Tsugaru Strait.
The world of the Emishi was a world of nature. They did not organize space as the Yamato state did, with its neat geometry of rice fields and network of roads. The Emishi settled in river valleys, near sources of water and rich forests. Their villages emerged where the terrain allowed easy access to game, fish, and building materials. Settlements were also found in hard-to-reach mountainous regions – a fact that perfectly reflects their resistance to Japanese expansion: they knew every ravine and forest path, which became their natural line of defense.
Archaeology has uncovered many traces of their presence in the prefectures of Iwate, Akita, Aomori, Miyagi, Fukushima, Yamagata, and also along the Kantō border. In these places, remnants of settlements, pottery, and weapons have been found that do not belong to the Yamato style – showing a distinct rhythm of life and survival technique. Though these lands were marked on imperial maps as part of Japan, in practice they formed a separate world – wild, independent, reluctant to submit.
How did they live?
In the heart of this northern wilderness, the Emishi built settlements based on a communal model of life. These were not sprawling cities, but small clusters of dwellings, usually organized around a single family or clan. Leaders – chieftains – held not only military roles but also religious and judicial ones, guarding custom and the continuity of tradition.
Emishi homes changed with the seasons. In winter – when snow covered the mountains and winds from the Sea of Japan froze the earth – people moved beneath it. Semi-subterranean houses (tateana jukyū 竪穴住居) offered protection from the cold thanks to thick clay walls and roofs covered with reeds or tree bark. Inside, around the hearth, all family life revolved: eating, resting, telling myths, preparing weapons and fur clothing.
In summer, they built lighter structures from grass and branches, resembling huts. These allowed better ventilation in the heat and humidity – they were airy, easy to dismantle, and suited to the semi-nomadic lifestyle the Emishi often led.
In the layout of their villages, we do not find the monumentality known from Yamato. There were no temples, street systems, or administrative buildings. Instead, the organic structure of the settlement prevailed, adapted to the terrain and the needs of survival. Each home had its place, and the communal space – often located near a water source or sacred stone – served a ritual function.
Excavations in places like Isedōtai (Akita Prefecture) or Tagajō (a later Japanese fortification in the heart of Emishi land) show that the Emishi used their own construction methods and were reluctant to adopt Yamato architecture. In their world, rice was not the foundation of life – it was wild boar, salmon, buckwheat, edible forest plants, and meat. The settlement was not a unit subordinated to bureaucracy, but a space of survival and ritual, community and resistance to the civilization that came from the south.
Daily Life of the Emishi
Economy and Food
Let us imagine dawn over the mountainous valley of Kitakami, where mist lies thick over the river and the air smells of cold and the smoke of campfires. It was in such settings that the daily life of the Emishi took place – a people not of farmers but of forest hunters, fishers, and gatherers, closely tied to the rhythms of nature.
The foundation of the Emishi economy was hunting. Using long, reflex bows made from maruki wood (丸木), they lay in wait for wild boars (inoshishi) and deer (shika), which provided not only meat but also hides for clothing and sinew for bindings. Weapons were often coated with the poisonous sap of the aconite plant (torikabuto), which increased their effectiveness – this inconspicuous flower was a deadly ally of the hunter.
The rivers – especially the Abukuma, Kitakami, and Ōmono – teemed with salmon (sake) and trout (yamame), and the Emishi set clever wicker traps or fished with nets made from plant fibers. Smoking and drying fish was the primary method of preservation – the provisions had to last through long winters.
Gathering also played a major role. In spring and autumn, they collected chestnuts (kuri), acorns (donguri), and wild nuts, which were then soaked in water and dried to remove bitterness. These foods were ground into flour and baked in simple clay ovens. Wild tubers, plant roots, and forest berries were also used, as confirmed by findings in refuse pits at sites like Sannai-Maruyama and Korekawa.
Although the Emishi were primarily forest people, they occasionally cultivated crops. In some regions, especially those closer to Yamato, there was limited rice cultivation – mainly on moist terraces in river valleys. However, the climate of northern Honshū was not favorable to intensive agriculture, so rice was a luxury, an addition, not a dietary staple. More often than rice, they grew millet (awa) and barley (mugi) – crops more resistant to the cold.
The true symbol of Emishi culture, however, was horse breeding. These animals – small, hardy, and related to the Misaki breed – were not used for farming, but were battle companions and travel partners. Emishi graves from the late Nara and early Heian periods often contain haniwa horse figurines, and in some burials, even horse skeletons have been found alongside their owners – a testament to a strong bond.
The mobility that the horse provided was key to the Emishi way of life – dynamic, based on seasonal migration, hunting expansion, and swift military actions.
Clothing and Weapons
The image of the Emishi that emerges from accounts such as the Nihon Shoki and later Buddhist chronicles is strikingly vivid. According to records from the Keikō era, the Emishi wore garments made of fur (kegawa), most commonly from deer and bear, belted with leather straps. In summer, they dressed in robes made from tree bast (shinafu), obtained from the bark of mulberry, linden, or kōzo trees, which were woven into fabrics resembling coarse linen.
Their attire was complemented by feather ornaments, worn in their hair tied into a topknot or attached to forehead bands. Some archaeologists point to traces of shell beads and stone pendants, which may have served ritual or totemic functions.
The most intriguing element, however, was their skin – described as covered with tattoos (irezumi – for more on tattoos in later Japanese culture, such as the yakuza, see: Irezumi: The Japanese Art of Ukiyo-e Masters in Yakuza Tattooing). The designs – spiral, geometric, or wave-like – were most often applied to the face, arms, and chest. For the Yamato, these were signs of “savagery,” but for the Emishi, they likely symbolized belonging, spiritual protection, and perhaps initiation. Some sources suggest that the ink was made from soot mixed with plant sap, and that the needles were fashioned from bone or wood.
Emishi weapons were largely of their own making, based on local materials. Their maruki bows were long and powerful – sometimes over two meters in length – and used both for hunting and fighting against Yamato. They employed poisoned arrows, tipped with bone, stone, or metal.
The most characteristic melee weapon was the warabite-tō (蕨手刀) – “sword with a hilt like a fern leaf.” Its unique spiral-shaped handle was not only decorative but allowed for a better grip. Warabite-tō were shorter than Japanese tachi, or even the much later katana, and more closely resembled the Anglo-Saxon seax or short gladius – suited for close combat, from horseback or in dense forest.
All these elements – fur garments, tattoos, poisoned weapons – painted the image of a distinct people: resilient, proud, and perfectly adapted to life beyond the borders of Yamato civilization. Their world was one of ritual, seasonal migration, bonds with nature, and with the spirits that dwelled in mountains, rivers, and animals. A world that still echoes today in the culture of Tōhoku and, perhaps, the Ainu – in forgotten place names, in ornaments, in old songs that carry the resonance of the Emishi people's former life.
The Emishi in Japanese History
From the mists of distant centuries and the pages of the oldest Japanese chronicles, from the records of Kojiki and Nihon Shoki, shadows emerge – distorted, unclear, foreign. They were called Emishi, but also Ezo (not to be confused with Hokkaidō), iteki, fushu, mojin – words that, in the mouths of Yamato court scribes, sounded like verdicts. No longer just “other,” but “wild,” “uncivilized,” “hairy,” “disobedient.” Those who lived beyond the emperor’s control were unsettlingly free, indecently independent.
In accounts from the reigns of emperors such as Sujin or Keikō – semi-mythical figures – the Emishi are portrayed as a threat requiring subjugation. These are stories filled with heavy-handed symbolism of imperial domination: “cutting of beards,” “civilizing savagery,” “teaching obedience.” But this history tells us more about Yamato’s fears than it does about the Emishi themselves – for the latter consistently defied clear definition.
The vocabulary used in official documents of the era – from terms like iteki (異賊 – “foreign bandit”) to fushu (俘囚 – “captives,” “subjugated barbarians”) – reveals not only the power’s attitude but also its impotence in the face of the frontier. It says more about what Yamato wished for than what truly was. The more the Emishi resisted assimilation, the greater the efforts to categorize them, dehumanize them, and impose meaning from without. Nothing new – we see such behavior repeated endlessly throughout the history of all peoples and states, including our own times.
Everything began to escalate in the 7th and 8th centuries. As Yamato consolidated its power in the west and south, the gaze of its rulers turned northward. The lands of present-day Tōhoku were not only strategic – they offered land, timber, salt, iron, and the opportunity to expand influence in accordance with the Sinocentric model of the state.
The first forts were built – josaku, wooden-earth strongholds erected by government troops, intended as operational bases and symbols of “civilization.” Registration of the local population began, assigning them the status of fushu – subjugated, yet “different.” Where resistance was stronger, the label iteki was applied – barbarians who could not be subdued without war.
War loomed on the horizon – long, bloody, filled with subterfuge, tactical alliances, cavalry raids, and scorched earth. A war meant not only to destroy Emishi independence – but ultimately – their very existence. But that is a story for another chapter – a story of rebellions, heroes, defeats, and resistance spanning generations, to which we will dedicate the entire second part of this article next week.
>> SEE ALSO SIMILAR ARTICLES:
Poles as Pioneers in Research on the People of Hokkaido – Ainu
The Ainu Uprising on Hokkaidō 1669 – Shakushain and 19 Tribes Against the Shogun
"Strong Japanese Women"
see book by the author
of the page
未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
Personal motto:
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
Mike Soray
(aka Michał Sobieraj)
未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
Personal motto:
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
Mike Soray
(aka Michał Sobieraj)
Write us...
Ciechanów, Polska
dr.imyon@gmail.com
___________________
inari.smart
Would you like to share your thoughts or feedback about our website or app? Leave us a message, and we’ll get back to you quickly. We value your perspective!