“Let It Sing—or Let It Be?” Aika Kanda’s Curious Cuckoo Question

The terrifying warlord

I went to Nikko Toshogu Shrine in Tochigi Prefecture with my mother. I had only been there once before, on a school field trip when I was in elementary school, so it had been about 35 years. This was my first visit since it was registered as a World Cultural Heritage site.

My mother, who has always loved traveling, sometimes urges me, “When are we going on our next trip?” So the two of us travel domestically and abroad about four times a year. We have always chosen destinations that were new to both of us, but we were starting to run out of tourist spots that we could easily visit from Tokyo over a weekend. So we decided to visit Nikko Toshogu, a place I had been to before but so long ago that I barely remembered anything about it.

Because I had forgotten so much, I experienced discoveries and excitement as if I were visiting for the first time. I found myself thinking things like, “Oh! The Three Wise Monkeys were actually along the approach where the Yomeimon Gate starts coming into view and you inevitably become captivated by it!” and “The Sleeping Cat was actually directly above a spot where there’s a step that makes you look downward!”

After climbing the 207 steps while gasping for breath, we reached the tomb of Lord Tokugawa Ieyasu. There, my mother and I had a conversation we hadn’t had in a long time: Of the three sayings—Oda Nobunaga’s, “If the cuckoo won’t sing, kill it”; Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s, “If the cuckoo won’t sing, make it sing”; and Tokugawa Ieyasu’s, “If the cuckoo won’t sing, wait until it does”—which type of warlord do you like best?

I’m sure many of you readers have had this conversation countless times as well. These three verses offer an easy-to-understand portrayal of the personalities of three superstars of Japanese history. Comparing them is essentially a three-choice exercise in analyzing the kind of person you admire and the way you think.

Ever since I was a child, I had always answered this question, “Oda Nobunaga!” His overwhelming charisma and sheer intensity made a powerful impression on me when I was still young and had just begun learning about Nobunaga. Ever since then, I had regarded Nobunaga as the most frightening of the three—and therefore the person I most admired.

Toyotomi Hideyoshi, on the other hand, seemed to embody honesty and intelligence through his verse, but he lacked charisma, momentum, and glamour. Tokugawa Ieyasu was quiet, and as an impatient person, I simply couldn’t understand him. Why wait? Wouldn’t waiting make you anxious? I saw him as a harmless, easygoing man who could take his time.

But that day, as my mother and I talked about the three verses again after so long, a thought suddenly occurred to me: (Wait, maybe it’s actually the opposite. Perhaps Ieyasu was the most frightening of them all!?)

Nobunaga charged headfirst into battle against one warlord after another with an unwavering determination, ultimately bringing about his own downfall. Hideyoshi endured hardships and steadily worked his way toward ruling the country, only for his regime to collapse not long afterward. Meanwhile, Ieyasu quietly watched them all, waiting patiently for the right moment to arrive and when the time finally came, he slipped into action with a simple “Now!” As a result, he held power over Japan longer than anyone else.

Yes, that must be it. Ieyasu was the most terrifying of them all!!

I never expected to see myself in Ieyasu

I didn’t realize this during my student years, nor in my 20s or 30s. But now, nearly a quarter of a century into my working life, I’ve met so many people and had so many different experiences that I have finally come to understand the strength—and the fearsome side—of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the man who could wait until the cuckoo sings.

I wanted to pat myself on the back and say, “Aika, you’ve really done well.”

But at the same time, I realized something else.

When my fellow announcers who joined NHK at the same time as me began making a name for themselves much earlier than I did, I was incredibly anxious. When the freelance announcers around me appeared on much glitzier programs than I did and seemed to be having a great time, I was incredibly jealous.

Yet I never openly challenged them or made any conspicuous effort to compete. Instead, I simply bottled up all those feelings of frustration and resentment. All the while thinking, (Just you wait. I’ll definitely surpass you!), I quietly and patiently watched for an opportunity to make my way in.

And now, thankfully, I’ve been fortunate enough to receive plenty of work.

Could this actually be Ieyasu-like!?

The thought—(Wait, am I actually an Ieyasu type!?)—both shocked me and made me a little frightened of myself.

I haven’t conquered the realm, of course, but if I really am similar to him, I feel like I should learn what happened to Ieyasu after he became the ruler of Japan. If there were things Ieyasu did wrong, perhaps I should make sure I don’t make the same mistakes!

Embarrassingly enough, I’ve never been particularly good at studying Japanese history, so I know almost nothing about what happened after he seized power. I think I’ll dig out that section of the old educational manga “A History of Japan” that I read when I was younger and read it again.

Aika Kanda — Born in Kanagawa Prefecture in 1980. After graduating from Gakushuin University’s Faculty of Science, Department of Mathematics, she joined NHK as an announcer in 2003. She left NHK in 2012 and became a freelance announcer. Since then, she has been active mainly in variety programs and currently appears regularly as the main MC of the Fuji TV daytime program “Pokapoka.”

★ Her first book, Where Does the Path Called the Mainstream Road Lead?, a compilation of this series, is now on sale to great acclaim!

From the August 7 & 14, 2026, combined issue of “FRIDAY”