TOKYO — The old temple-shaped building with its sweeping tile roof is gone from the capital's Shirogane district now, torn down and replaced by a Western-style, multi-story structure that also houses apartments, a coffee shop and a convenience store.

The Horaiyu public bathhouse is still there--it's just a little tougher to spot now that it's limited to the subbasement, beneath the coffee shop.

Things have changed inside the bathhouse, or "sento," too. (The word, literally, means "cash for hot water.")

There's no more free soap, for example. A customer has to bring his own, or buy it from one of the vending machines that also dispense towels, razors and underwear. Instead of the old plastic baskets, there are now rows of lockers for storing clothes. And a bather can now wash his laundry in one of the coin-operated machines that are provided while he is washing himself in the tiled bathing area.

There are only enough water spigots for 26 bathers at a time now--less than half what the spacious old bathhouse offered. But there is a separate waiting room complete with television. And in another concession to modernity, the cashier now sits in the waiting room also, instead of in the more traditional perch atop a dais, with a view of both the men's and women's sections of the baths.

"The cashier used to be a special characteristic of a sento," said Shigeki Fujita, adviser to the Tokyo Public Bathing Environment Sanitary Enterprise Union, a guild of bathhouse owners. "He or she would greet the customers and exchange a few pleasantries. It created an atmosphere of warmth and friendliness. But young people don't like to be looked at (naked)."

As Fujita's comments and the scene at the Horaiyu suggests, times are changing for one of Japan's more enduring institutions.

Not so long ago more than half the people who live in Tokyo patronized its public bathhouses, which first sprang up in the 16th Century. A traditional Japanese love of bathing and a penchant for cleanliness helped business. Bathing remains a favorite national pastime, particularly at the more than 1,000 "onsen" (hot springs) resorts where aficionados indulge themselves two and three times a day.

Nevertheless, business is now on a steady decline, with many owners struggling to stay afloat despite government subsidies.