When you think of quintessential Japan, we're betting you think of the charms of Kyoto, with its many tea houses, kimono-clad geiko, elegant shrines, and narrow alleys. On Okinawa, Kyoto's cultural counterpart is Shuri, the former seat of the royal family of the Ryukyus.

While Kyoto may have been spared from bombing by Allied generals during World War II due to its cultural importance, Shuri was given no such bye. The area was (and is) located on an impressive hilltop, and this, combined with the fact that Japanese forces had turned the castle's buildings into a barracks and constructed an immense network of tunnels and caves underneath them, made the area a prime target for Allied bombers. Most of Shuri was leveled during the Battle of Okinawa, and it wasn't until years after the war that many of the buildings of cultural importance were restored.

But, despite the death and destruction, the heart of Shuri never died. Sustained by a hearty resident community, the area rose like a phoenix from the ashes to rebuild businesses such as Arakaki Kashiten (a family bakery that has made chinsuko (Okinawa cookies) for centuries) and tile-roofed homes such as those seen along many of the neighborhood's back alleys. If you look for it, present-day Shuri still has much of its old world charm. And while tourists may think that charm lies exclusively in the Seiden's vermillion pillars, the gold leaf on the Shureimon, or with the tourist photo ladies treading softly underneath the weight of hanagasa and bingata kimono, locals know it lies with the hand constructed shisa, the narrow streets decorated with pots of flowers, and the neighborhood grocery stores where locals come to gossip.

For centuries, Shuri Castle has stood as the pride and joy of the Ryukyu Islands. The home of Ryukyuan royalty, its vermillion buildings shone in the tropical sun, glimmers of gold emanating regal light from the pillars and gates. Destroyed on several occasions by fire, this wooden structure has seen many incarnations, the most recent of which was completed in 1992 after nearly four decades of researchand reconstruction following the building's demise during World War II.

If the walls of Shuri could talk, what would they say? Undoubtedly they'd recount tales of opulent court parties held to entertain visiting Chinese envoys, of moon-viewing and autumnal banquets, of the tense arrival of Commodore Matthew Perry in 1853. Perhaps they'd reveal the dark times that transpired in the maze of tunnels and rooms that exist below the expansive halls.

During World War II, the Japanese Army's 32nd Division made Shuri their power post. Lieuntenant General Mitsuru Ushijima gathered residents and junior high and normal school students from the area to aid the Army in tunneling under the castle. The task took only a few days, with the rag-tag crew boasting construction of nearly 1,000 meters of tunnels. Their depth of 15 to 35 meters below the castle ensured safety from incoming artillery and 2,000-pound bombs launched from U.S. battleships off the coast. According to a May 1945 issue of TIME, one battleship scored 25 direct hits on the castle grounds, "but the shells bounced off, said an observer, like ‘rubber balls'."

Eventually, the bombs and artillery managed to take their toll, leveling the once resplendent structure to the ground not long after Ushijima abandoned the castle and retreated to the south. Today, though the tunnels and underground chambers are closed to the public, their entrances can still be seen on the grounds of Shuri Castle, slowly caving in under the weight of the earth. But their presence reminds us of the past, of the citadel's story. And perhaps, if we listen closely, we can hear the walls delivering a message as important as the castle's history.