Sanctuary — Local services in Tokyo

After leaving the Yūshūkan Museum on 1 August 2025, I walked slowly toward the Honden, the Main Sanctuary of Yasukuni Shrine. The museum had filled my mind with scenes of war—uniforms, diaries, weapons, and the solemn faces of those who had lived through fire and blood.

But here, in front of the Sanctuary, all of that weight seemed to dissolve into silence. The wooden beams, the copper roof, and the wide open courtyard created an atmosphere not of noise or politics, but of remembrance.

It struck me deeply that within this Sanctuary are enshrined the spirits of over 2.46 million people who died in service to Japan. They were farmers, sons, daughters, husbands, and fathers, transformed by the tide of history into soldiers. As a Malaysian, I carry the memory of how Japanese occupation left scars in my own land.

Yet standing here, I could not deny a truth that transcends nations: every soldier, no matter their side, leaves behind loved ones who grieve. Every fallen life represents someone who believed they were serving their country.

I reflected on the universality of sacrifice. In Malaysia, too, we honor those who defended our soil, our independence, and our people. The faces and uniforms may differ, but the essence is the same—courage mixed with duty, love for family interwoven with loyalty to the homeland.

Visiting Yasukuni reminded me that beyond the divisions of history, there lies a shared human story: ordinary individuals who gave up their tomorrows for what they believed was the protection of their country.

Watching the Japanese visitors approach the Haiden (the Hall of Worship), bowing respectfully, clapping softly, I felt a quiet lesson in humility. They were not glorifying war; they were showing reverence for sacrifice. A father guided his young child’s small hands through the ritual motions, ensuring that remembrance was passed down. In that moment, I thought of my own children, and how I want them to understand the value of peace—not by erasing the past, but by remembering the cost of conflict.

The Honden itself, closed to public eyes, seemed to symbolize that ultimate mystery of sacrifice—the part we cannot fully understand. We honor the dead, but we can never fully grasp the depth of their loss. Perhaps that is why shrines, monuments, and sanctuaries exist: to give us a place to stand in silence, to acknowledge what words can never capture.

As I prepared to leave, I whispered a prayer—not only for those enshrined here, but for all who have died in wars across nations, including my own. Respecting them does not mean agreeing with the causes they fought for. It means recognizing their humanity, their courage, and their willingness to sacrifice. In that sense, Yasukuni became not just a Japanese place of remembrance, but a universal reminder of the fragile...

Very quiet in some days of September, it was a beautiful area and well kept Shrine of the Fallen Japanese in History. You will some time to visit all the statues and read all the information.

You can use a QR code on the panels and for me, everything was explained in English.

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