Tokyo Snapshot Vol. 5 ー Tokyo’s public baths: preserving tradition, welcoming the world

JStories ー Tokyo’s public bathhouses, known as “sento,” have long been more than just places to wash. They are neighborhood hubs, where people relax, ease their fatigue, and connect with others.

But this tradition is under pressure. In the middle of the last century, Tokyo had more than 2,600 sento. By the end of 2024, only about 430 remained — less than one-sixth of their peak. Visitor numbers have also dropped: around 23 million people used sento annually until 2020, but this fell to about 20 million after the pandemic and has yet to recover. The spread of private baths, aging facilities, and the advanced age of many operators have only deepened the crisis.

Many bathhouses are making efforts to adapt. Saunas, popular among younger generations, have been introduced, while local traditions continue to be valued. Yet with Japan’s shrinking youth population, many now see foreign residents and tourists as essential for the survival of sento.

But sento can be intimidating to foreign visitors. A June 2025 survey found that 15.3% of foreign travelers avoided public baths due to discomfort with nudity or unfamiliar bathing etiquette. Language is another barrier: in a 2024 Japan Tourism Agency survey, 15.2% of respondents reported difficulty communicating with staff in English.

To address this, the Tokyo Metropolitan Government and the Tokyo Public Bath Association launched the “WELCOME! SENTO” campaign on Sept. 1, 2025, following a pilot project from October 2024 to February 2025. Sixty-three bathhouses were certified as “inbound-friendly,” offering multilingual support in English, Chinese, Korean, and other languages, along with cashless payment options. Certified facilities are introduced on a multilingual website and marked with a special WELCOME! SENTO banner at their entrances. Visitors get discounted admission and original “tenugui” (traditional hand towels) as souvenirs. Videos and brochures clearly explaining Japanese bathing etiquette help ease any anxieties. The doors that once seemed closed are now slowly but surely opening.

On Aug. 28, I joined a media tour for the WELCOME! SENTO campaign at Kotobuki-yu in Ueno, one of the certified “inbound-friendly” public bathhouses. Handouts from the tour included impressions from foreigners who had visited a public bath for the first time during last year’s campaign. One traveler from Canada wrote, “The sento not only eased my physical pain but also deepened my bond with my friends.”

That remark reaffirmed to me that sento are not merely places to relieve fatigue — they are cultural gateways where people can naturally connect. Filled with curiosity and anticipation, I began my tour.

The area around Ueno Station is always bustling, yet just a step into a side alley, Kotobuki-yu stands quietly, its palace-style roof and wooden façade hinting at history. The bathhouse first opened in 1952, and in 1959 management was taken over by a family of local bathhouse operators. Since then, it has been passed down through three generations.

Inside, I was welcomed by a nostalgic atmosphere. The tiled walls, wooden pillars, and beams all bear the marks of time, yet the space inside is bright, clean, and well maintained. The exterior preserves its classic charm, but the building has also undergone modern renovations, including earthquake-resistant construction. Kotobuki-yu offers spacious shower rooms, a refreshing cold-water tank, and an inviting open-air bath. The interplay between the warmth of steam and the coolness of water creates a soothing rhythm throughout the facility.

This reminded me of the public bathhouses in my hometown in China. I remembered the steam-filled rooms, the sound of water, and my mother’s gentle smile during our quiet conversations. Chinese bathhouses often carry a lively, social atmosphere, while Japanese sento offer quiet, tranquil spaces where courtesy and privacy are carefully respected.

The murals of Mount Fuji, seasonal decorations, and simple hand towels all linger in my memory. In such a space, the nostalgia of home blends with Japan’s unique calm, creating a deep sense of security — one that transcends borders.

Kotobuki-yu boasts Tokyo’s largest men’s open-air bath, next to a women’s bath, offering a liberating sense of openness under the night sky. The fusion of traditional architecture and modern comfort — where nostalgia and innovation harmonize — is the bathhouse’s true charm. For a fleeting moment, it felt as if scenes from decades past were unfolding before me: people exchanging greetings, glances, and quiet conversation.

While soaking at Kotobuki-yu, I was reminded of a motif from the popular Japanese TV drama “Doctor X.” After each successful surgery, the protagonist, Michiko Daimon,  and her mentor, Akira Kanbara, would each take a bath separately as part of a tradition to mark the success. In that quiet ritual, they exchanged techniques and ideas, building trust. Watching the steam curl around the bathers here, I could feel a similar sense of connection forming naturally — without formality or pretense — between everyone sharing the space.

The tour also included representatives from the Tokyo Metropolitan Government, who were there to explain the broader significance of the campaign. Among them was Mr. Tsutomu Kosaka, the director of Tokyo government's consumer safety division in the Bureau of Citizens and Cultural Affairs, who remarked: “It’s very good that people meet and can chat casually at the public bath. It’s an important social gathering place for local residents.

Kotobuki-yu preserves tradition while also breaking down cultural and linguistic barriers, becoming a crossroads where people from diverse backgrounds can connect naturally. When bathhouses like this take root in neighborhoods, urban landscapes become softer, warmer, and more inviting.

Mr. Kosaka added, “We want to continue this tradition and provide a safe, comfortable sento experience for people both domestically and internationally.”

Stepping through Kotobuki-yu’s “noren” curtain, I felt the night breeze brush against my cheeks. At that moment, the Canadian traveler’s words came back to me: “The sento deepened my friendship with my companion.” Spaces like these, wrapped in steam, are more than places to ease fatigue — they gently close the distance between people, offering warm invitations that transcend cultural barriers.

Yet keeping this culture alive is not easy. Bath fees are legally fixed at 550 yen, but rising utility and labor costs threaten the very viability of sento. Masato Saeki, head of Tokyo’s Public Bath Countermeasures Council, warned, “Amid difficult business conditions, we suspect that ultimately, it is the labor costs of the operators or related parties that are being squeezed.” Other committee members stressed that flexible pricing, attracting new customers, and welcoming inbound tourists will be key to ensuring the survival of sento culture.

I hope initiatives like WELCOME! SENTO will attract more visitors to Japan while also encouraging Japanese people to rediscover the culturally significant quiet charm of sento. With sustainable management, these bathhouses can continue not only as places that heal body and mind but also as living cultural spaces, adding warmth to the urban landscape.

Translated by Anita De Michele | JStories

Edited by Mark Goldsmith 

Top photo: © Welcome! SENTO Campaign

For inquiries regarding this article, please contact jstories@pacificbridge.jp

Click here for the Japanese version of the article.