Rurikoin | The Window That Made Me Dream of My Future Garden

Have you ever sat somewhere and suddenly started imagining what your future home should look like?

At Rurikoin, I sat in front of the shoin window for a long time, staring at the reflection below — and thought seriously: I want a garden exactly like this someday.

I know it's nearly impossible. But the thought just came, strangely real.

Getting There from Kyoto

Rurikoin is located in Yase, in the northeastern outskirts of Kyoto. From Demachiyanagi Station, take the Eizan Densha railway — about 20 minutes to Yase-Hieizan-guchi Station. Cross a small bridge and walk about 5 minutes.

The ride itself is calming. The city gradually falls away, station names get less familiar, and by the time you arrive, you've already started to slow down.

Small, but Thoughtfully Designed at Every Turn

The grounds aren't large — you can see everything in about an hour. But that's not a problem here. The care shows in every detail: the moss-covered pathways, the placement of stone lanterns, the proportions of the corridors.

This isn't a place you rush through. For anyone who loves Japanese gardens, it's the kind of space where you naturally slow down and take everything in.

That Window View

When you step into the shoin study room and see the window, you'll understand why this place is famous.

In front of the window sits a large black lacquered desk. The green maples of the garden reflect on its surface — the window frame, the lattice, the mountains, the trees — two images layered into one, inseparable. Many visitors go quiet here. No one seems in a hurry to leave.

I took a lot of photos. But honestly, what the camera captures isn't quite the same. The stillness of the room, the proportions of the space, the awareness of sitting inside a building with centuries of history — none of that fits in a frame.

The Story of This Place

Rurikō-in sits in Yase, tucked against the western foot of Mount Hiei beside the Yase River; the name "Yase" has been written this way since the Engi era (901–923) of the Heian period. The building itself began life as a villa in the Meiji era — its tea room, "Kikaku-tei," is said to have been named by the statesman Sanetomi Sanjō, and the plaque bearing that name still hangs there (though historical records disagree about who originally owned the villa, so we'll leave that open). In the late Taishō and early Shōwa years, the sukiya master Sotoji Nakamura handled the architecture and the Sano Tōemon lineage shaped the gardens, layering this roughly 12,000-tsubo (about 40,000 m²) estate into several Japanese gardens, among them the celebrated "Ruri no Niwa." After the war it served for a time as a high-end ryokan, and only in 2005 was it converted into a temple. Today it is the Kyoto main hall of Muryōjuzan Kōmyō-ji, a Jōdo Shinshū temple based in Gifu, enshrining Amida Nyorai; it is normally closed, opening only for special viewings amid the fresh green of spring and the autumn maples.

Yase itself carries a few old tales. As the story goes, during the Jinshin War of 672 Prince Ōama — the future Emperor Tenmu — took an arrow in the back and healed the wound in the village's kamaburo steam bath, so the place came to be called "Yase" (written 矢背, "arrow-back") before the characters shifted to 八瀬. It's a beloved local legend, though historians don't treat it as fact — another reading simply takes the name to mean "many rapids," from the swift shallows of the Yase River. The "Yase Dōji" who lived here are just as storied: legend holds they were descendants of the oni that the great teacher Saichō once commanded, which is why they went about with long, loose hair in the guise of "dōji," or child-servants. What is documented, however, is this: in 1336, when Emperor Go-Daigo fled to Mount Hiei, thirteen households of Yase carried his palanquin and took up bows to guard him, and for that service they received an imperial decree granting perpetual exemption from land taxes and levies. In 1707, when Yase clashed with Enryaku-ji over their boundary, the senior councillor Takatomo Akimoto ruled in Yase's favor, upholding the privileges the village had long held. The bond forged by that escort endured into modern times: at the state funerals of the Meiji, Taishō, and Shōwa emperors, the Yase Dōji served as bearers of the imperial coffin and palanquin. In gratitude for both favors, Yase still offers the "Shamenchi Odori" lantern dance each October at Akimoto Shrine — a tradition roughly three centuries old, now a registered intangible folk cultural property of Kyoto City.

Once you know all this, standing before that lacquer-black table at Rurikō-in and watching the maples pool across its surface, what settles into your eyes is more than scenery — it's the whole of Yase, quietly carrying its legends and its memory of emperors.

Before You Go

・Rurikoin opens only twice a year: spring (early May to mid-June) and autumn (November). Check the official website for exact dates.
・Entry is limited — popular dates may require advance tickets purchased online
・Admission: approximately ¥2,000
・Access: 5-minute walk from Yase-Hieizan-guchi Station on the Eizan Densha
・The riverside path along Takano River nearby is worth a walk if you have extra time

If you're the kind of person who would plan a whole day around one perfect window view, Rurikoin is worth the trip.

Just give yourself more time than you think you need — once you're inside, you won't want to leave so quickly.