

At Fushimi Inari in Kyoto, the “street” is really a shrine path that climbs into a wooded hillside. What makes it feel like a tunnel is the way the torii gates are placed so close together that daylight gets sliced into thin strips. Step in, and the world turns vermilion, shadow, and footsteps.
The gates are not random decoration. A torii marks a threshold, a sign that you are passing from the everyday world into a sacred space. At Fushimi Inari, there are thousands of them because people and companies donate gates as a way to say thank you, or to ask for good fortune in work and life. Many gates have the donor’s name and date written on the back, so the tunnel is also a record of hopes, gratitude, and ambition.
This shrine is dedicated to Inari, a Shinto deity linked with rice and agriculture, and later with trade and prosperity. That connection explains why so many business names appear on the gates. Along the route, you also notice fox statues. Inari is often associated with fox messengers, so the foxes feel like quiet guardians watching the flow of visitors.
The deeper you go, the less it feels like a photo spot and the more it feels like a rhythm. Gate, gate, gate. A small clearing. A stone lantern. A pause. Then the tunnel closes again, and the path keeps climbing.