Society The splendours of Kichijoji

Kichijoji, in western Tokyo, is one of the most popular districts among young Japanese, despite facing issues related to an ageing population and an increasing number of immigrants:

Ranked third in property listings app Suumo's latest survey of the most desirable places to live in greater Tokyo, Kichijoji seems to meet a lot of what people say they want. It is not just the access. Shinjuku, busy and crowded, is about 15 minutes away by train. That matters. But people also point to what sits in the middle of the area.

Inokashira Park stands out straight away. It covers about 430,000 square metres — roughly 60 football pitches — and offers a break from the dense, built-up city around it. The name "Inokashira (井の頭)" is usually taken to mean "the head of the well." Water from underground, once used for drinking during the Edo period (1603–1868), still rises from one corner of the park. It has not stopped. The sound is soft, and people say it has a calming effect. The water feeds the lake and mixes in with the trees and wildlife; birds stop here during migration, and smaller animals are often seen.

There are other draws, especially for families and couples. Two small zoos sit inside the park. The Ghibli Museum is also here, founded by film director Hayao Miyazaki of "Spirited Away" and focused on the work and ideas of Studio Ghibli. Swan-shaped boats can be rented on the lake. They are popular. There is also a local story, often repeated, that couples who ride them together will break up.

But Kichijoji's popularity comes with a downside—the madness of crowds. Parents on mamacharis (literally, mother bikes) zigzag along narrow walkways, ferrying children in both front and back seats, while weekend shoppers in cars clog the two-lane roads, making navigation feel almost perilous. In many ways, the neighbourhood offers a microcosm of urban life in Japan: youthful energy, speedy connectivity, consumer-driven vitality and easy access to health care. Yet it also reflects a broader national dilemma: how to deal with city overcrowding even as rural areas hollow out. Rents in Kichijoji tend to be about 10% higher than in neighbouring areas, underscoring the imbalance between supply and demand. A closer look reveals another challenge: Japan's shrinking workforce. It is not unusual to be served Japanese food by foreign cooks in ramen shops or conveyor-belt sushi restaurants, as some younger Japanese shy away from long hours and relatively low pay. On weekends, dining at popular spots without a reservation is often all but impossible. Japan's rapidly ageing population has also created a shortage of bus and taxi drivers, leaving operators struggling to remain profitable. As in many other areas, bus routes and frequencies in Kichijoji have shrunk in recent years, leading to long queues at the train station during rush hours as commuters wait for last-mile transport.

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Coincidentally, Asahi also had a feature on Kichijoji yesterday:



Kichijoji regularly appears near the top of rankings of the most desirable places to live in the capital. Its appeal is often explained in practical terms—rail access, a lively commercial centre—but the area's longer history, and the role of Inokashira (井の頭), complicate that picture in quieter ways.

At the centre of this history lies Inokashira Park, a large public space administered by the Tokyo metropolitan government. The entrance is a short walk—around five minutes—from the south exit of Kichijoji Station. Today, it sits within a dense urban setting, but archaeological evidence suggests the site has drawn people for far longer than the modern city suggests.

Excavations across the park grounds have identified more than 60 habitation sites from the Jōmon period (c. 14,500–1000 BC), along with artefacts dating back to the Palaeolithic. These finds are grouped into the Inokashira Pond archaeological site complex. Nearby stands Inokashira Benzaiten (井の頭弁財天), a temple with origins in the Heian period (794–1185), long associated with the worship of a water deity. The proximity of religious practice and ancient settlement is not incidental; both centre on the same underlying feature—water.

The availability of spring water appears to have been the decisive factor in the area's early use. According to Shimohara Hiroshi, a curator with the Mitaka city government, the water source at Inokashira was more stable than those of other sources in the region. In the Palaeolithic period, when human groups moved widely in search of food, such a location would have functioned as a recurring stopping point rather than a permanent settlement. Stone tools recovered from the site—arrowheads and knives—support this interpretation.

By the middle Jōmon period, the pattern had shifted. A more settled community formed around Inokashira Pond, though no visible remains have survived. Shimohara suggests that communities of this period may have maintained relatively stable, sustainable lifeways over long periods, possibly without large-scale conflict. The archaeological record here is fragmentary, but it points to continuity rather than disruption.

The pond itself later acquired the byname Nanai no ike (七井の池), the "pond of seven wells," reflecting the belief that water once issued from seven distinct springs. One of the bridges still bears this name. During the Edo period (1603–1867), the pond served as a source of drinking water for the city of Edo via the Kanda River, before the construction of the Tamagawa Jōsui canal system in the 17th century. For this reason, the area came under direct control of the Tokugawa shogunate as a shogunal demesne.

Over time, the original springheads ceased to flow naturally, and groundwater is now maintained by mechanical pumping. Even so, the question of the pond's origin remains unsettled. Some have suggested that a body of water of this scale may not have formed purely through natural spring activity, raising the possibility of artificial modification in the early modern period. Investigations conducted during temporary pond drainage have not yielded a definitive answer.

The place name itself is tied to the Tokugawa. Earlier records refer to the area as Mure-no, a more general designation for the largely undeveloped land. Tradition holds that Tokugawa Iemitsu (徳川家光, 1604–1651), the third shogun , named the area Inokashira, often interpreted as "the finest well" or "head of the well." Both he and his grandfather Tokugawa Ieyasu (徳川家康, 1542–1616) are recorded as having visited the area for falconry. A stone monument near Benzaiten marks what is said to be the site where Iemitsu carved the characters for "Inokashira" into a tree with his sword, a detail preserved in local folklore rather than documentary certainty. Other place names within the park reflect this association. The Gotenyama ruins, part of the same archaeological complex, are said to mark the location of a rest facility used by Iemitsu during hunting visits. The layering of prehistoric settlement, early modern administration, and later recreation is visible but not always clearly separated; the same ground carries multiple histories at once.

During the Edo period, the area developed into a recognised place of leisure. Inokashira Benzaiten became a popular destination, approached through the "black gate," a torii marking the main entrance. A surviving guidepost from the mid-Edo period lists donors, including kabuki and jōruri theatre groups such as the Nakamura-za, Hizen-za, and Satsuma -za. Their presence suggests that the site attracted not only local visitors but also patrons connected to the performing arts.

Administrative boundaries today still reflect older divisions. The park straddles the cities of Mitaka and Musashino: the pond and its southern surroundings fall under Mitaka, while Musashino administers the northern uplands. This split is not immediately visible to visitors, but it shapes how the site is managed.

In more recent times, the park has also been linked to cultural production. Composer Nakada Yoshinao (中田喜直, 1923–2000) is said to have conceived the melody of "Chiisai aki mitsuketa" (小さい秋見つけた) while walking by the pond. A monument in the shape of a piano, erected by the city of Mitaka, commemorates the piece and includes a handwritten excerpt of the score. Nakada lived in Mitaka after the Second World War and produced several works that remain familiar in Japan, including "Natsu no omoide" (夏の思い出). His music continues to be heard locally; JR Mitaka Station uses another of his compositions, "Medaka no gakkō" (目高の学校), as a departure melody.

The surrounding area has also retained traces of literary life. A teahouse known as Isentei once stood near Benzaiten and operated for more than two centuries. It was reportedly frequented by Dazai Osamu (太宰治, 1909–1948), who lived in Mitaka. The site was redeveloped and reopened in 2021 as a pizzeria under the same name, maintaining a loose continuity with its past while adapting to present-day use.

Is there still a yakitori place at the station, kind of under the tracks?

It's not a yakitori place located under the railway tracks, but when people think of yakitori in Kichijoji, this is the place that comes to mind.
いせや総本店(Iseya-Sohonten) is a famous, long-established yakitori restaurant in Kichijoji, founded in 1928.
It is known for its affordable and hearty dishes, especially grilled chicken skewers and shumai. With its casual, old-style atmosphere, it's a popular spot where people can enjoy drinks from daytime, loved by both locals and visitors.


In Kichijoji, one of my favorites is the "Maru Menchi Katsu" from the butcher shop Sato near the station shopping street. It's big and very juicy.