Minato Ward, Tokyo–
Where the skyscrapers huddle close and the expressways lead up and away into the night.
It’s no wonder that this place is the cornerstone of the Japanese economy.
And yet…try closing your eyes for a moment.
Say the name of this place while the salty breeze kisses your cheeks, and inevitably you will ask yourself:

“Why is it called Minato Ward?”

It might be impossible to imagine while standing alongside the modern Tokyo Bay, but this area was once a wide, shallow beach where grasses once swayed in the wind.
They called it the “shiba-no-ura,” literally “grassy beach.”

What songs did the Muromachi-period travelers sing along these roads?

“The people of Shiba-no-Ura, servants to their boats; their names lifted not by spear but by smoking salt”

The “smoking salt” refers to the way the locals used to produce salt by collecting seaweed, drying it, burning it, and boiling the ashes in seawater.

They would pack that salt in their boats, showing the importance of the port in the residents’ lives.
Fishermen also rowed out to sea in search of fish.

Here is an anecdote about Shibaura fishermen and Tokugawa Ieyasu.

In 1590, a Tokugawa ship headed to Edo became stranded in the shoals, unable to move.
Then, the fishermen of Shibaura forced their way through the waves towards the ship. Dozens of small boats joined forces to bring the Tokugawa vessel back out to sea. Shogun Ieyasu was surprised and deeply moved by their efforts to rescue his ship.

As thanks, the fishermen received special permission to fish from any port in Japan.

Why was Tokyo Bay so abundantly rich in resources?

The answer lies in the many rivers, including the Sumida River, carrying nutritious minerals from the mountains down to the Bay.

Gizzard shad, conger eel, and the Shibaura specialty, Shiba shrimp –
they became irreplaceable staples of sushi and tempura cuisine in the Bay area.

Tokyo Bay is the home of Edo-style sushi.

Fish are caught right from the Bay in front of you and served fresh, in a manner different from the aged narezushi of Kansai

Perfect for hasty Tokyoites.

Sushi was sliced much thicker back then, serving hearty, rice ball-sized sushi from carts – the “fast food” for the masses of the era.

The Shibaura sea offered its residents beautiful views to go with their meals.

Tokugawa family villas stood right by the sea, surely offering an aspirational sight for the masses.
Shibaura eventually became a popular moon viewing spot; the sight of people spreading their rush mats on the shore awaiting the moonrise became a seasonal marker.

Spring is the season for clam digging.

Women hiked up their kimono and stepped barefoot into the waves seeking shellfish.
They caught flounder hiding beneath the sand along the way, stewing and eating it with sake right there.
The wind carried their laughter and songs, making the beach seem like a tiny resort for the commoners.
Their leisure activities melded with those of the fishermen, fomenting a culture wholly unique to Shibaura.

Shibaura was the setting for a rakugo story called “Shibahama.” Here is the gist of it:

It’s almost dawn at Shibaura Bay.

Katsugorō the fishmonger is at the water’s edge when he picks up a leather purse, fat with gold.
He’s over the moon, so he takes the day off work and spends it drinking and feasting. Eventually he’s plastered enough to drop dead asleep.

The next morning, after his wife wakes him up, Katsugorō declares: “I quit fishin’, I’m rich!”

His wife then quietly responds: “What’s this about a purse? Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
Crestfallen, Katsugorō drags himself back to the fish market.

He eventually shakes off his disappointment and starts taking his work seriously. He became successful enough to open a small shop of his own in three years.

Then one day, his wife brought him his usual meal, along with a cup of sake. Katsugorō was surprised; he’d sworn off alcohol ever since that day.

“The truth is, that purse wasn’t a dream,” said his wife. “I didn’t want you to get arrested so I took it to the authorities, but the owner never came for it so they gave it back to me.”

Katsugorō was dumbstruck. Then, he shrugged and raised the cup to his lips. When his wife tried to stop him, he said: “Let go; I wanna dream again!”

Nevertheless, not even the quiet Shibaura Bay could escape the encroaching waves of time.

The Black Ships arrived at Tokyo Bay in 1853.

The dark pillars of smoke that billowed out of those foreign steamships were said to be visible from the heart of Edo.

Panicked, the shogunate rushed to build a defense.

Said defense was a battery fort in Tokyo Bay called Odaiba.

It was a massive undertaking, matched only by the construction of Edo Castle. It was only possible thanks to the wide shallows of Tokyo Bay.

You can still make out the shadow of Odaiba when you look at Tokyo Bay from Shibaura.

So, how did Minato Ward come to be named? There are multiple reasons.

Ships stacked with seaweed salt cargo. Crowds of people gazing at the moon. Commoner antics inspiring rakugo stories – these are all memories of the Port.

Stratas of time stacked upon each other. A layer that finally found its name: “Minato Ward.”

The wheel of time turns once more, ushering in the Meiji Period. A turbulent era that brought change to Shibaura.