Tsu-shi

In the latest Population Census the population is about 275,000 (274,537 in 2020). From 279,886 in 2015 it fell by some five thousand over five years. Though it is a prefectural capital, the population has entered a gentle phase of decline.

What I want to note here is that the number of children thins faster still. Those under 15 fell by about two thousand five hundred, from 35,663 (2015) to 33,180 (2020). In the same five years the share aged 65 and over rose from 27.7% to 29.4%, nearing three in ten. Behind a gentle decline in the total population, the inside steadily shifts its center of gravity toward the older side. The Official Land Price for residential land is around 41,000 yen per m², a restrained level for a prefectural capital. The Fiscal Capacity Index is 0.67, not reaching 1.0 — a structure shared with the many regional cities that cannot fully cover standard expenditure with their own tax revenue and are supplemented by the local allocation tax. The Childcare Waitlist is zero (2025). The household-with-children share is 20.1% (2020). Why these numbers take this shape cannot be read without going back over the history of the harbor, the castle town and the prefectural office.

Tsu’s skeleton is formed where three centers — harbor, castle and prefectural office — were layered upon the same land across the ages. The single character "tsu" means harbor to begin with. This place in the Muromachi era was called Anotsu, and was counted as one of the "three harbors of Japan," an important port as seen from China. A harbor opening onto Ise Bay was this city’s first foundation.

The second foundation is the castle town. In 1608, Todo Takatora, known as a master of castle-building, became the lord of Tsu, and from 1611 greatly rebuilt Tsu Castle and laid out the castle town. He set the Ano River to the north and the Iwata River to the south as outer moats, placed the castle at the center, set the merchant quarter to the east on the sea side and the samurai quarter to the west, and drew the pilgrimage road toward the Ise Grand Shrine into the merchant quarter. It is, in economic geography, a layout that gathers commerce at the junction of road and harbor. With this castle town at its center, the Tsu domain lasted about two hundred sixty years, until the abolition of the domains. The skeleton of the present central district’s streets was drawn at that time.

The third foundation is the prefectural office. In 1871 the office of Anotsu Prefecture was placed at Tsu, but the next year it moved once to Yokkaichi and the prefecture’s name became Mie; in 1873 it returned to Tsu. The office returned to Tsu, but the name remained Mie, so the prefecture’s name and the capital’s name have not matched to this day. In 1876 it merged with Watarai Prefecture to take the present shape of Mie Prefecture. Rising to fame as a harbor, gaining its streets as a castle town, becoming the administrative center as a prefectural office — Tsu’s center of gravity has piled upon the same land, moving from the sea to the road-side castle town and then to administration.

What characterizes Tsu is that, though it is a prefectural capital, both its population and the number of its children are declining gently. That appears not as the drastic consolidation common to declining regional cities, nor as the increase of children like Chofu’s, but as the gentle shrinking of a prefectural capital. The absolute number of children fell by about two thousand five hundred in five years, and the aging rate neared three in ten. Even where the administrative function of a prefectural office keeps supporting the town’s center, that does not reverse the flow of the population itself — such is the picture.

The Childcare Waitlist is zero (2025). Here a re-reading is needed. A zero waitlist is not necessarily the result of having made supply keep pace amid increasing children, as in Kawasaki or Chofu. In a town where the household-with-children share is 20.1% and the absolute number of children thins gently, demand for childcare itself settles down and supply more readily catches up. Even the same "zero waitlist" changes meaning entirely depending on whether children behind it are rising or falling. In Tsu’s case, one can read the aspect of a gentle decline drawing supply and demand toward balance. The gentle shrinking of a prefectural capital is quietly translated into both the number of children and the numbers of childcare. This number, too, will have its meaning mistaken unless read together with its background.

Tsu holds several functions of its own. One is Tsu Castle, which Todo Takatora set between the Ano and Iwata Rivers, and the castle-town streets drawn from it, which form the skeleton of the present central district. Another is its position as a place on the pilgrimage road toward the Ise Grand Shrine, where the castle town’s merchant quarter opened at the junction of road and harbor. And the administrative functions, the prefectural office foremost, still support its face as a prefectural capital.

Tsu is also one of the few prefectural capitals whose name and prefecture’s name do not match. From the harbor of Anotsu, to Takatora’s castle town, and then to the administrative center of Mie Prefecture — the condition "a harbor opening onto Ise Bay" loaded a different function onto itself age by age. The harbor, the castle town and the prefectural office are all, in origin, set upon this land open to the sea where the roads gather. The harbor, the castle town and the prefectural office have all ridden upon this land open to the sea where the roads gather. The harbor of Anotsu called Takatora’s castle town, and that castle town drew toward it the administrative center of Mie Prefecture. The opening toward the sea has summoned, age by age, a new central function in turn.

Lay out Tsu’s numbers and indicators widely seen among regional prefectural capitals line up: a falling population, fewer children, an aging nearing three in ten, and a fiscal capacity of 0.67. But to my eye (Atlas), reading ledgers, I would not short-circuit a fiscal capacity below 1.0 into "weak though it is a prefectural capital." That the portion of standard expenditure not covered by one’s own tax revenue is supplemented by the local allocation tax is a structure common to the many regional cities outside parts of the great metropolitan spheres, not a weakness peculiar to Tsu. Apply the same yardstick as for the cities of great metropolitan spheres like Yokohama or Saitama and you misjudge it.

Lay out Tsu’s numbers and indicators of the same structure as many regional cities line up: a gently declining population, an aging nearing three in ten, a household-with-children share of 20.1%, and a fiscal capacity of 0.67. To my accountant’s eye, the fiscal capacity of 0.67 is the figure of an ordinary prefectural capital that cannot fully cover standard expenditure with its own tax revenue and is supplemented by the local allocation tax. The thickness of the tax source differs in the first place from neighboring Yokkaichi in the same Mie, which reaches a fiscal capacity above one through its coastal industrial complex.

On top of that, what is peculiar to Tsu is the history that has piled upon the same land while changing its function. The harbor of Anotsu, open to Ise Bay, called Takatora’s castle town, and that castle town drew toward it the administrative center of Mie Prefecture. Harbor, castle town and prefectural office are layered, age by age, upon this land open to the sea where the roads gather. As one of the few prefectural capitals whose name does not match — the prefecture remaining Mie, the capital remaining Tsu — the figure of a prefectural capital that has run, at its own scale, the function of being an administrative center, distinct from Yokkaichi with its thick industrial tax source, appears in its numbers.