The story
As you stand here in the heart of Nara Park, look up. Looming above you is the Goju-no-to, the Five-Story Pagoda of Kofuku-ji. At just over fifty meters tall, it is the second-tallest wooden pagoda in all of Japan, surpassed only by To-ji in Kyoto.
For over a millennium, this silhouette has defined the skyline of Nara, acting as a beacon for pilgrims and travelers alike. Take a moment to appreciate the weathered, dark timber. What you see today was rebuilt in 1426, but the original foundation was laid way back in the year 730 by Empress Komyo.
She built it to fulfill a vow and to honor the powerful Fujiwara clan, who once treated this entire district as their private family temple. Throughout the centuries, this site has been a battlefield for both political power and the elements. This pagoda has burned to the ground five different times, usually claimed by lightning strikes or the sparks of civil war.
Yet, every time it fell, the people of Nara reached into the earth and the forest to raise it once again. If you walk a little closer, notice the intricate interlocking eaves. You might be surprised to learn that this massive structure was built without a single metal nail.
Instead, master carpenters used complex wooden joints that allow the building to breathe and shift. Inside, hidden from view, a massive central pillar called a shinbashira hangs or rests like a giant pendulum. When an earthquake strikes, the floors of the pagoda actually sway independently of one another in a "snake dance," absorbing the shockwaves.
It is a marvel of ancient engineering so effective that it inspired the design of the Tokyo Skytree. Listen for a moment. You’ll likely hear the soft footfalls of Nara’s famous Sika deer wandering nearby.
In local lore, these deer are considered messengers of the gods, and they have stood guard over Kofuku-ji as long as the pagoda has stood over them. As you continue your walk, head toward the nearby Sarusawa Pond just down the hill. If the air is still, you can see the pagoda’s reflection shimmering in the water—a view that has been celebrated in poetry for centuries.
Whether it is framed by the pink clouds of cherry blossoms in the spring or a dusting of white snow in the winter, the Goju-no-to remains a symbol of resilience. It is a reminder that while empires and eras may fade, the spirit of Nara remains firmly rooted in the earth, reaching toward the sky.