Bottle No. 3 – Princess Ōku and Princess Chūjō
Introduction
Have you ever heard the story of Princess Chūjō?
If you live in Katsuragi or its surrounding region, it is a tale that everyone knows. Yet, once you step outside this area, surprisingly few people are familiar with it.
Many of you may know the story of Snow White. What is fascinating is that the first half of Princess Chūjō's story is almost identical to Snow White. But please don't dismiss it by saying, "So this is just a copy of Snow White." After all, Snow White only appeared in the 19th century in the Grimm Brothers' Fairy Tales.
By contrast, Princess Chūjō lived during the Nara period in the 8th century. She is remembered at Taimadera Temple in Nara, where she is said to have woven the Taimadera Mandala, an embroidered vision of the Buddha's world.
Her tale endured as a legend, passed down for generations. By the Kamakura period, it was written down in The Record of Taimadera, the temple's founding chronicle. In other words, long before Snow White—by more than 300 years—it had already been preserved as a piece of literature.
Now you may wonder: what connection could there be between Princess Chūjō and Princess Ōku?
Before we come to that, let me first summarize the story of Princess Chūjō.
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"The Tale of Princess Chūjō," beloved even in
the Edo period (Katsuragi Historical Museum) |
Illustrated narrative of The Tale of
Princess Chūjō (Taimadera)
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Seated statue of Princess Chūjō (Taimadera) |
1. The Tale of Princess Chūjō and Princess Ōku
When the capital was still in Nara, the Minister of the Right, Fujiwara no Toyonari, took as his wife a beautiful lady known as Murasaki no Mae. The two lived in harmony, and together they prayed to the Buddha at Hasedera Temple for the blessing of a child. Their prayers were answered with the birth of a lovely daughter, Princess Chūjō, whom they cherished dearly.
The family lived happily, but tragedy struck when Princess Chūjō's mother fell gravely ill and passed away. Toyonari later remarried a woman named Teruhi no Mae. Though beautiful, Teruhi was consumed by jealousy. She could not bear the sight of Chūjō, who was not only more beautiful than herself but also beloved by everyone. She scolded her harshly, tormented her with cruelty, and finally, filled with resentment, plotted her death.
When Toyonari was away on an official post in the provinces, Teruhi seized her chance. She ordered a retainer to kill the girl, declaring, "If only that child were gone…"
But the retainer, moved by the princess's gentle and innocent nature, could not bring himself to harm her. Instead, he reported back that he had done as ordered, while secretly hiding Chūjō deep in the mountains, where he and his wife raised her as their own.
On his return from the provinces, Toyonari was told his daughter had died. Yet one day, while hunting in the mountains, he stumbled upon her alive. Learning the truth from the retainer, he resolved to bring her back to the capital.
Chūjō, however, had already made up her mind. She carried within her the sorrow of being separated from her late mother, the pain of enduring her stepmother's malice, and a deep awareness of the heaviness of human karma and suffering. Out of compassion for those who shared such sorrows, she decided to renounce the world and become a nun at Taimadera Temple, dedicating herself not only to her own salvation but also to the hearts of all people.
There, in days of prayer and self-questioning, she wondered how people might be freed from suffering. One day, a voice resounded in her heart:
"Gather lotus stalks, spin their fibers into thread, and weave a mandala."
Thus, after much hardship, Chūjō completed the great Taimadera Mandala. Having fulfilled her vow, she was welcomed by the Buddha and departed for the world where her mother awaited her.
Such, in brief, is the story of Princess Chūjō. Yet as I pondered her tale and the Taimadera Mandala, another figure began to emerge in my mind: Princess Ōku, who lived in an even earlier time. She was the elder sister of Prince Ōtsu—the ill-fated royal whom I wrote about in the section "Prince Ōtsu and Empress Jitō."
The work that famously connected Prince Ōtsu with Princess Chūjō is Shinobu Orikuchi's novel The Book of the Dead. Reading it, I cannot help but feel that Orikuchi himself sensed a deep resonance between the image of Princess Chūjō and that of Princess Ōku.
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Sekkō-ji at the foot of Mt. Futakami
(Katsuragi, Nara Prefecture) |
Main gate of Sekkō-ji (Katsuragi, Nara Prefecture) |
"Dyeing Well" where Princess Chūjō is said to have dyed lotus threads (within Sekkō-ji grounds) |
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Taimadera at the foot of Mt. Futakami
(Katsuragi, Nara Prefecture) |
Hall of Tonsure for Princess Chūjō
(within Taimadera grounds) |
Standing statue of Princess Chūjō
(within Taimadera grounds) |
2. The Centralization of the Gods
Let us recall for a moment the story of Prince Ōtsu from the previous section.
Princess Ōku and Prince Ōtsu were siblings, born of Emperor Tenmu and Princess Ōta. Princess Ōta had a younger sister, Princess Unonosarara (later Empress Jitō). Both sisters became consorts of Tenmu, and between Unonosarara and Tenmu a son was born—Prince Kusakabe, who was perhaps a year older than Prince Ōtsu.
Ordinarily, Princess Ōta would have been empress, and her son, Prince Ōtsu, would have naturally become crown prince. Yet Princess Ōta died young, leaving her children, Princess Ōku and Prince Ōtsu, without support.
Moreover, their aunt, Princess Unonosarara, was not a gentle and graceful figure like her elder sister. She was politically astute, ambitious, and had fought side by side with her husband in the Jinshin War. Having toppled the Ōmi court with her husband and ascended to the throne as empress, she increasingly saw Prince Ōtsu as an obstacle. Indeed, his brilliance, inherited from his father, became a source of potential conflict. Whether or not he or her own son Kusakabe took action, the factions surrounding them might easily ignite a second Jinshin War.
Thus unfolded the tragedy of Prince Ōtsu, which I have already discussed in "Prince Ōtsu and Empress Jitō." Here, however, I will turn our attention to Princess Ōku.
After emerging victorious in the Jinshin War and establishing his court at the Asuka Kiyomihara Palace, Emperor Tenmu began the work of postwar reforms.
His foremost priority was centralizing the power of the great clans. And the method he first employed was the centralization of the gods they worshiped.
The victory in the Jinshin War had been possible thanks to the support of the eastern clans, and above all because of the protection of their sun goddess, Amaterasu Ōmikami. Proclaiming that victory came through her divine aid, Tenmu elevated Amaterasu as the supreme deity of the state. Under her he organized the pantheon: the gods who had accompanied the heavenly descendants at their descent were defined as Amatsu-kami (heavenly deities), while the native deities were classed as Kunitsu-kami (earthly deities). In this way, the gods themselves were brought under a system of central authority.
A parallel comes to mind from the Korean historical drama The Goryeo–Khitan War, now popular on television. The drama depicts not only the kingdom's defense against Khitan invasions but also, with equal intensity, the internal struggles with powerful aristocratic clans. It shows vividly how curbing the power of these clans was the key to unifying the nation.
The same held true for Japan. Emperor Tenmu had risen to power by defeating the Ōmi regime with the help of the clans, and he knew well the threat their strength could pose. After the Jinshin War, his first priority was to draw the military and economic power of the clans into the absolute authority of the throne.
The centerpiece of this policy was the enthronement of Amaterasu and the myth of the Heavenly Descent. By exalting Amaterasu, long revered by maritime peoples of the eastern provinces, as the sole and absolute deity, and by declaring that the imperial family—possessors of the Three Sacred Treasures bestowed by Amaterasu—were the rightful rulers of the earth, he established a divine hierarchy into which all clan deities were subsumed beneath Amaterasu.
It was for this reason that the Ise Grand Shrine was established, and a new system was created in which a woman from the imperial family would be chosen to serve the sun goddess as her priestess.
This was the beginning of the Saiō (Imperial Priestess) system.
But what exactly was the Saiō? To explain, let me first share a short travel essay I once wrote about the institution.
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| Site of Fujiwara Palace (Nara Prefecture) |
Uji Bridge and Great Torii leading to the
Inner
Shrine
of Ise Grand Shrine (Mie Prefecture) |
Site of the Saikū Palace and the "Itsukinomiya Experience Center" (Mie Prefecture) |
Fujiwara Palace, Ise Grand Shrine, and the Saikū Palace—all three appear to have been established
at the same time through
the reforms of Emperors Tenmu and Jitō. |
3. Princess Ōku, the First to Serve as Saiō
On one of my trips for work to Ise, I was driving along the old Ise Highway with my son at the wheel. After crossing the Kushida River, a sign caught my eye: "Forest of the Saiō," "Saikū Historical Museum," and "Saikū Historical Experience Hall."
The moment I saw it, I could not shake the feeling that I must go there. I asked my son, "Sorry, but could you turn off here?" And so, we veered right, heading straight toward the Forest of the Saiō.
The word Saikū can be read as saigū or itsuki no miya. But what exactly was the Saiō? At one time, my interest lay mainly in early modern encounters between Japan and Europe, especially the cultural clashes surrounding Christianity. That study came to a kind of conclusion for me after finishing my book The Renaissance of the Orphans.
Later, I moved from the Kanto region back to Kansai and settled in Umami, Kōryō Town, Kitakatsuragi District. There, I felt as if I had stepped right into the stage where the nation of Japan was being formed—into the very heart of ancient history spanning from the reigns of Emperors Kinmei and Bidatsu, through Empress Suiko, and on to Emperor Tenmu.
The Makino Kofun along my walking path is said to be the tomb of Prince Oshisaka no Hikohito no Ōe, son of Emperor Bidatsu. Nearby, the Nikiyama Kofun stands in the district of Akabe, where Princess Tōchi is believed to be buried. The Mitaruyama Kofun, said to be the resting place of Prince Takechi, lies within Mitaruyama Park. Wherever I went, I found myself surrounded by the sites of Japan's formative age. Hōryūji Temple is a twenty-minute bike ride away, Asuka about an hour and a half, Hashihaka Kofun—the tomb attributed to Queen Himiko—and Ōmiwa Shrine, as well as Hibara Shrine (the so-called "Original Ise"), are all within reach of my bicycle. Even the trailhead to Mount Futakami is only thirty minutes away. Living in such a place, how could my heart not turn toward ancient history?
Above all, my thoughts were drawn to Mount Futakami and to Prince Ōtsu, who rests there. And whenever I thought of him, I could not help but recall his elder sister by the same mother, Princess Ōku. She too had once served as Saiō in Ise, but when her brother Prince Ōtsu was executed on charges of treason, she was released from her office. Far away in Ise, she composed a poem in mourning for her brother:
"Though I am but a mortal, from tomorrow I shall see Mount Futakami as my younger brother."
Stone monuments inscribed with this poem can still be found throughout the area around Futakami.
To my shame, my own knowledge of the Saiō was vague at best. I only knew that women of the imperial family were appointed, and I vaguely assumed the office was located somewhere within Ise Shrine itself. In truth, the name and the idea of the Saiō had long sunk to the depths of my consciousness. Yet, seeing the sign for the Forest of the Saiō in Ise, the memory suddenly surged to the surface.
At the site of the Saikū, a plaque erected by the Ministry of Education explains that the remains are those of the Saiō's palace and the offices that administered her duties, dating back as far as the Asuka and Nara periods.
But what role did the Saiō, also known as the Saigū, actually serve, and how was she chosen? According to The Tale of the Saiō by Itsu Nakano, "From their early years to the bloom of youth, more than sixty noble princesses lived in the serene coastal land of Ise, devoting themselves wholly to pure service of the gods."
In other words, the Saiō was an unmarried princess dispatched from the capital to serve Amaterasu at Ise Grand Shrine on behalf of the emperor.
The system was established during the time of Princess Ōku, elder sister of Prince Ōtsu, and it continued for about 660 years until the service of Princess Shōshi, the last Saiō. The youngest appointee was only two years old, the oldest thirty. Normally an imperial princess was chosen, but if no princess was available, the daughter of a prince might be appointed instead. Each time a new emperor ascended the throne, the Saiō also changed. Selection was made by divination, and the chosen princess would first reside in a Saikū, a preparatory palace within the capital, where she purified herself and learned the knowledge required of a Saiō.
The photograph here shows the sōkaren, a palanquin in which the Saiō traveled, crossing the Suzuka Pass to make her way from the capital to Ise.
A Saiō would normally return to the capital in a grand procession, called taige, when the emperor died or one of her parents passed away. However, Princess Ōku was dismissed when her brother Prince Ōtsu was condemned. In such cases, the return was called an "accident," and the Saiō was quietly escorted back to the capital. Similarly, if a Saiō was found to have had relations with a man, she too would be dismissed as an "accident."
When a Saiō completed her service and returned safely, her procession retraced the route by which she had traveled to Ise. But when she was dismissed as an "accident," she was compelled to return secretly, by a different road.
4. Princess Ōku After Leaving Her Post as Saiō
Let me now set down, as far as is known, the life of Princess Ōku in the form of a chronological outline.
- 661 CE – Born the daughter of Emperor Tenmu (then Prince Ōama) and Princess Ōta. It is said that she was named "Ōku" because her mother gave birth to her near Ōku in present-day Okayama Prefecture, while accompanying her father on his journey to Tsukushi for the Baekje campaign.
- 663 CE – Her younger brother, Prince Ōtsu, was born in Naotsu (modern-day Natsu, Fukuoka Prefecture). Like his sister, he was named after the place of his birth, not after Ōtsu Palace in Shiga.
- 667 CE (2nd month) – Their mother, Princess Ōta, passed away.
- 672 CE (1st month) – Their uncle, Emperor Tenchi, died.
- 672 CE (7th month) – The Jinshin War broke out.
- 673 CE – Victorious in the Jinshin War, Emperor Tenmu established the Saiō system. Princess Ōku, at age twelve, was appointed as the first Saiō.
- 674 CE – Princess Ōku traveled to Ise to take up residence at the Saikū.
- 686 CE (10th month) – Prince Ōtsu was executed at Asuka. (Shortly before this, he had visited his sister at the Saikū, despite its prohibition of men.)
- 686 CE (11th month) – Princess Ōku, implicated in her brother's rebellion, was dismissed from her office as Saiō at age twenty-five.
- [Sixteen-year gap]
- ca. 694 CE – The Golden Hall of Shōfuku-ji (the ruins now known as Natsumi Haiji), founded on her vow, was completed. This is confirmed by stamped clay ornaments discovered on site.
- 702 CE (1st month) – Princess Ōku died, likely at the age of forty-one.
- 725 CE – Shōfuku-ji was completed, with the lecture hall and pagoda added at this time.
What became of Princess Ōku after her dismissal remains unknown. We know the date of her death, but not where she died.
There is, however, one account.
A Heian-period text, the Origin Story of Yakushiji, claims that Princess Ōku built a temple called Shōfuku-ji in Nabarigun, Iga Province, to honor Emperor Tenmu:
"Princess Ōku was at first a Saiō. In the second year of Jinki (725), for the sake of Emperor Jōgen (Tenmu), she established Shōfuku-ji, in the place known as Natsumi, originally in Nabarigun, Iga Province."
Yet some say the temple was not truly for Tenmu, but rather to pray for the repose of her brother, Prince Ōtsu.
There is a puzzle here: the Origin Story of Yakushiji gives the temple's founding date as 725, more than twenty years after Princess Ōku's death. But this mystery proved surprisingly easy to resolve. When I visited the site of Natsumi Haiji in September 2025, I saw fragments of gilded clay ornaments from the Golden Hall. On them was stamped the cyclical year "Kōgo," which corresponds to 694. This proves the Golden Hall was already completed by that date.
The next question is funding. Princess Ōku, dismissed from her office because of her brother's rebellion, could not have commanded a state-sponsored project, even as a member of the imperial family. It seems more likely that local powerful clans acted as patrons, moved by her vow. There is also the possibility that her cousin, Empress Genmei, who had been the consort of Prince Kusakabe, played a role.
To recall: during the Taika Reform, Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawamaro's daughters—Ōchi no Iratsume and her younger sister Mei no Iratsume—both married Emperor Tenchi (Prince Naka no Ōe). Empress Genmei was the daughter of Mei no Iratsume, making her a cousin of Princess Ōku and Prince Ōtsu. She had witnessed countless tragedies among her kin, and she seems to have shared a special closeness with Princess Ōku.
Here, let me list some of the sorrowful events that shaped both Princess Ōku and Empress Genmei (then known as Princess Abe):
- The Isshi Incident (Taika Reform)
- The rebellion of their grandfather, Soga no Ishikawamaro
- The suicide of Ōchi no Iratsume (mother of Princess Ōku, aunt of Princess Abe)
- Defeat at Baekgang (Hakusukinoe)
- The transfer of the capital to Ōmi
- The Jinshin War
- The untimely death of Princess Tōchi
- The death of Emperor Tenmu
- The rebellion and execution of their cousin, Prince Ōtsu
- The dismissal of Princess Ōku as Saiō
- The death of Prince Kusakabe, consort of Princess Abe (Empress Genmei)
All of these events were entangled with the Soga-Ishikawamaro lineage, weaving a web of tragedy in which they were alternately perpetrators and victims.
Empress Genmei herself died on December 29, 721. Yet I sense that before her death, she entrusted the temple project to her daughter, Princess Hidaka (Empress Genshō, the 44th sovereign).
As an aside, Empress Genmei was the only emperor in Japanese history to forbid the building of a mausoleum or the performance of funeral rites for herself. Her daughter, Empress Genshō, to whom she ceded the throne, is remembered as a reigning empress who never married.
It may well be that the founding of Shōfuku-ji was the work of three women bound to Amaterasu Ōmikami: Princess Ōku, Empress Genmei (the 43rd sovereign), and Empress Genshō (the 44th).
Most notably, Princess Ōku had been chosen as Saiō, the one appointed to serve Amaterasu herself—the highest-ranking priestess of the sun goddess. From the age of twelve to twenty-five, she had lived as the Saiō of Ise. And yet, she made a vow to build a Buddhist temple for the repose of Emperor Tenmu.
Of course, the age was one of shinbutsu shūgō, the blending of kami and buddhas. The question of which—Shintō or Buddhism—was more effective for the protection of the state was fluid, and the boundaries between the two were indistinct.
But Princess Ōku sought salvation not in the binding institution of "Amaterasu," but in the teachings of Buddhism. This is not to say that Buddhism was inherently superior; rather, it was the path she chose.
So what influence did Buddhist thought have upon Princess Ōku, dismissed from her office as Saiō?
To explore this, we must step back in time and consider the role and culture of shrine maidens (miko) before the introduction of Buddhism.
This may offer us a glimpse into the hearts of Princess Ōku and the women who, like her, served as priestesses.
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Foundation of the Kondō (Golden Hall) at
Natsumi Temple (Shōfuku-ji) — completed
in 694 (Nabari, Mie Prefecture) |
Molded Buddha plaques that once decorated the Kondō walls of Natsumi Temple (Shōfuku-ji) |
Foundation of the pagoda at Natsumi Temple (Shōfuku-ji) — the Lecture Hall and Pagoda
were completed in 725 |
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Replica of the Origin Story of Yakushiji
(Natsumi Temple Site Museum) |
Molded Buddha plaque from Natsumi Temple
bearing the inscription "Year of Kōgo (694)" |
Molded Buddha plaque excavated at Sekkō-ji
(appears to have been made from the same mold
as those at Natsumi Temple) |
5. The Age of the Shrine Maidens
In the early Kofun period, it was common to find burial mounds with two stone chambers. In many cases, one chamber has yielded human remains with numerous shell bracelets—made from cowrie or conch shells—worn on the right arm. These bracelets were ornaments typically worn by women, but to be adorned with so many from childhood signified that the individual had been a female priestess exempt from ordinary labor.
In the other chamber was usually buried a male ruler, a military leader. In other words, a single tumulus enshrined both a queen who presided over religious rites and a king who commanded in war. In later Kofun, it became more common for a husband and wife to share a chamber, but in this earlier period the pairs were often siblings—brother and sister.
This system, in which a queen and king were paired in ritual and governance, is sometimes called the himehiko-sei ("princess-and-prince system"). The women enshrined in such tombs were, in effect, shrine maidens, though they held the rank of queen among them. Beneath them, of course, were other shrine maidens serving in lesser roles. Let us now turn to what is known about these women.
There is said to be a condition called miko-yami—literally, "the illness of shrine maidens." It is a psychological disorder most common in adolescent girls, still reported in Okinawa. It resembles schizophrenia: hearing divine voices, experiencing shifts in personality, or undergoing what is colloquially called spirit possession. In Okinawa, however, those who overcome this state are said to become respected noro, priestesses.
At first I wondered why "mental illness" and "Okinawa" should be linked. But as I studied, I began to glimpse an answer: the high prevalence of such disorders in Okinawa seems tied to the deep connection between "religion" and "mental illness." In other words, the religious culture of Okinawa has produced a significant number of spiritually sensitive women—women of a shrine-maiden type.
Thus the large number of spiritually attuned individuals and the relatively high number of those labeled mentally ill appear to go hand in hand, reflecting Okinawa's spiritual environment. Until the Okinawa Ocean Expo was held, such women were not segregated or treated as "abnormal." They lived within their communities, and many recovered naturally.
But with the decision to hold the Expo and the visit of the Crown Prince, circumstances changed. Those mentally unstable women who had lived in small village communities were suddenly deemed "unsuitable" and were forcibly admitted to psychiatric hospitals. Existing institutions were insufficient, and many new ones had to be established.
Why do I bring this up? Because I believe the same thing was happening in ancient times. In that age, people were even more sensitive to gods and spirits. Women, to a greater or lesser degree, fulfilled shrine-maiden roles within the small communities of family and village.
Among them were some who were especially spiritually sensitive. These women often experienced symptoms of what we now call miko-yami in adolescence. Those who overcame it were accepted and elevated as shrine maidens, serving the wider tribe. Those who could not were regarded as insane, yet even so, they were still cared for and sustained within the community.
So then, what role did shrine maidens play within the larger collectives of village, tribe, and eventually the state?
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Royal women and shrine maidens with shell
bracelets on their right arms
(Kashihara
Archaeological Research Institute Museum)
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Shrine maiden praying for safe voyage from
the
prow of a ship (Kashihara Archaeological
Research Institute Museum) |
Shrine maidens conducting a water ritual (Kashihara Archaeological Research Institute Museum) |
① Guiding the Dead to the Gods
In ancient Japan, "gods" originally referred to the forces of nature—an animistic faith. But as more immigrant peoples arrived, the worship of ancestors as deities became common.
When immigrant groups became the core of village life, the dead began to be buried on the outskirts of the settlement. Before that, burials took place in the central square of the village. Excavations suggest that the Jōmon people lived with the dead at the center of their community, perhaps with the belief that ancestors would protect them. Out of this developed the idea of ancestral deities, which evolved into ujigami, the tutelary gods of each clan, guardians of the community.
In Okinawa, there is a saying: "When a family line continues for seven generations, a god will inevitably be born and worshiped." It was believed that ancestral spirits gradually evolved into gods through long years and complex rituals. But this transformation did not occur automatically with time; it required someone to guide the soul into divinity. Performing such rites was one of the shrine maiden's tasks.
When a clan member died, the shrine maiden also helped deliver the soul into the presence of the ancestral gods. Left unattended, a spirit might remain a wandering ghost. Thus the miko would declare something like: "This person, who died on such-and-such a date, is your descendant of so many generations. Please accept them into your care." To ensure recognition, a family emblem was attached to the spirit. The making of these emblems was also the shrine maiden's duty. Over time, these emblems evolved into what we know as family crests (kamon).
② Hearing the Oracles of the Gods
One of the queen-shaman's most important duties was to call down the gods of Takamagahara to earth and receive their oracles. Two main methods were said to be used.
In one, the shrine maiden draped herself with a sash of hage-no-kazura (a climbing vine), placed sprigs of tsurumazaki in her hair, and held bamboo leaves in her hand. Standing on an overturned tub, she stamped and leapt upon it until she entered a state of divine possession.
The other method involved choosing an auspicious day and entering a consecrated chamber. There, a small hand-held koto was played—sometimes bells or the azusa bow were used instead. A diviner (sanewa), trained to interpret oracles, was present. The oracle was delivered in a chant, often in poetic verse, and expressed in a question-and-answer form. This sung form of oracle would later evolve into the tradition of waka poetry.
In simpler terms: the first method used ecstatic dance to enter trance; the second used ritual music and divination to hear the gods' words.
③ The Miko as Prophet
The most critical role of the shrine maiden was prophecy. She foretold matters of weather, war, hunting, disease, and sea voyages. The authority of shrine maidens and shaman-queens rested upon this role. To fulfill it, they chanted incantations or entered trance states.
Prophecies too were often sung in verse, so composing in chant-like forms became part of a shrine maiden's training.
④ War and the Shrine Maidens
Shrine maidens did not merely divine the outcome of wars—they also took part in them.
Among the ancient clans, the Mononobe, who oversaw ritual matters, were also a military family—the word Mononobe itself later becoming associated with mononofu (warriors). Within this clan there was a group of maidens called the "Eighty Maidens." The number "eighty" did not denote an exact count, but rather "a great many."
In battle, these maidens stood behind the soldiers, praying for victory. They would blow their breath toward the enemy—"fū, fū"—as a form of curse, while also lifting the spirits of their own side.
⑤ Agriculture and the Shrine Maidens
Since rice yields equaled national power, agriculture was the foundation of the state. Irrigation ponds were built, and rituals were performed to propitiate the gods of grain and weather: Hirose for water, Tatsuta for wind, Niu for rain. When these deities became violent, people sought to pacify them through magical rites, even human sacrifice on occasion.
Shrine maidens, including shaman-queens, naturally took part in these rituals. It is even thought that shrine maidens themselves may sometimes have been chosen as sacrificial victims, though no direct evidence—archaeological, folkloric, or textual—confirms this.
⑥ The Miko as Healer
As with the example of Queen Himiko, early Daoism included healing practices through confession, used by Zhang Jue, founder of the Taiping Dao, to gather followers and spark the Yellow Turban Rebellion. Though suppressed, that uprising plunged China into chaos, leading to the Three Kingdoms. Among the resulting refugees, some came to Japan.
Around the same time, Japan—divided into many warring states—was unified under Queen Himiko of Yamatai. This has led some to suggest that Himiko's lineage were immigrants from China, who gained power through irrigation, metallurgy, and healing practices.
Even before such practices arrived, however, shamanic healing was already known in Japan. The word kusuru ("medicine") comes from kusuru, meaning "to curse"—hinting at its origins in magical rites.
Miko healers sometimes treated illness only with prayer and incantation. Others combined prayer with substances given as medicine. These included offerings made to the gods (osagari) or medicinal herbs.
Skeletal remains have even been found with holes drilled into the skull, thought to be ritual trepanations performed by shrine maidens to cure spirit-related illnesses.
⑦ The Miko as Tax Collector
The character for "tax" (税) is said to come from "禾" (rice plant) and "兌" (a crowned person). It suggests that shrine maidens, in service to the gods, collected rice from the people as offerings.
In early times, this practice was called iyajiri—a tribute offered to the gods in gratitude and for protection. Only later, as the legal codes of so-yō-chō were established, did officials replace shrine maidens in collecting taxes.
Interestingly, the Omoro (sacred songs) of Okinawa preserve echoes of this role. One song includes a line that roughly means, "Let us heap up the taxes, for the great priestess." This suggests that shrine maidens themselves once walked the land, collecting tribute.
I often bring in examples from Okinawa, because many ancient customs of mainland Japan survive there in fossilized form.
⑧ Praying for Safe Voyages
The Records of Wei on the Wa People (Gishi Wajinden) describes a role called jissai (translated here as "expiator"):
"When the Wa embark on a sea voyage, a jissai is chosen. He avoids human contact, does not remove lice, wears soiled clothing, abstains from women and meat, and lives as though already dead. If the voyage succeeds, he is rewarded; if it fails, he is killed."
In this case, the jissai was male, not a shrine maiden. I once assumed this exclusion of women from ships reflected the idea of female "impurity." But that was a later notion. In ancient times, women were often required on long voyages.
While the jissai confined himself below deck, absorbing impurity and keeping the ship ritually clean, the shrine maidens prayed for safe passage. But if the voyage failed and the jissai was killed, what became of the shrine maidens? We do not know.
The desire for safe travel is universal. And strikingly, across cultures, it is most often women who are asked to pray for it.
I recall business trips to Nepal years ago. Before I returned to Japan, I was always invited to the home of a Nepalese friend, where his grandmother, acting as a family priestess, prayed for my safe journey. At the end of the ritual, she would mark my forehead with a red tika. Though it soon faded, the red trace remained, and I flew home to Japan with that mark on my brow. Within Nepal and even at the airport, this mark brought unexpected kindness from officials and strangers alike.
As Yamatai transformed into the centralized ritsuryō state of the Yamato court, the shrine maidens who had arisen in local traditions were absorbed into the national system.
The ancestral gods of local clans were also incorporated, reclassified as kunitsukami (earthly deities) under the centralized authority of Amaterasu Ōmikami, the state deity. This was the birth of state Shintō.
To serve Amaterasu, an imperial princess was chosen as Saiō. Princess Ōku was the first. Yet by then Buddhism had also entered Japan, so the protection of the state came to rest on two pillars—Shintō and Buddhism.
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| Clay haniwa figures of a king and a shrine maiden (Gunma Prefectural Museum of History) |
Clay haniwa figures of a group of shrine maidens (Imashirozuka Kofun, Ibaraki, Osaka Prefecture) |
Shrine maidens and farmers (Katsuragi
Archaeological Research Institute Museum) |
6. Buddhism and the Shrine Maidens
As I mentioned earlier in connection with miko-yami in Okinawa, becoming a shrine maiden often came with serious mental risks. Many women lost their sanity in the process.
In ancient times, shrine maidens bore enormous responsibilities: cursing enemies, divining the fate of the nation, healing the sick, praying for rain and abundant harvests, pacifying vengeful spirits, and ensuring the prosperity of the state. Every one of these roles carried heavy psychological burdens, and failure could mean death. It was an extremely risky life. There were no guarantees, and if a woman broke down mentally, she was discarded. To rise as a leading shrine maiden or be cast aside—this was the harsh world they inhabited.
In the era of folk belief, local communities cared for women who entered states of possession. But once state Shintō emerged, such women were treated as expendable. Who would look after those shrine maidens whose minds had collapsed?
It was Buddhism that reached out to them. Later generations would call Buddhism "prohibited to women," but in the early days, when the religion first arrived in Japan, it was women who risked their lives to spread it. Men, preoccupied with politics and state protection, treated Buddhism as a tool. Women, by contrast, embraced it on a spiritual level.
Do you know of Zenshin-ni?
She was the daughter of Soga no Shiba Tatsu, a naturalized immigrant from the continent, and in the late 6th century, at the age of eleven, she became Japan's first Buddhist nun.
This was the age when the pro-Buddhist Soga clan and the anti-Buddhist Mononobe clan clashed, eventually leading to the full-scale "war of gods and buddhas." As a warning to the pro-Buddhist faction, the Mononobe captured the eleven-year-old Zenshin-ni, along with two other girls, Keizen-ni and Zenzō-ni, who had also taken vows. The three were stripped half-naked and flogged at the station house of Tsubaichi.
But rather than crushing their faith, the punishment only inflamed it. Their passion grew, and ultimately they crossed the sea to Baekje in search of the Dharma. This was in 588 CE, when Zenshin-ni was just fifteen years old—ten years before Japan sent its first official mission to Sui China.
Why women? Because at the time, the Japanese understood hotoke—the Buddha—as a foreign "god." And it was the role of women, the shrine maidens, to serve the gods and convey their words.
Yet when these women encountered Buddhism, they discovered something wholly absent from Japan's native deities: the idea of salvation. Shrine maidens who had been used up in the service of the state and its gods now found hope in a teaching that promised, "Even women can be saved," that they too could be reborn into the Pure Land.
Let us return to Princess Ōku.
As Japan's first Saiō, she had served Amaterasu Ōmikami. But when her younger brother, Prince Ōtsu, was executed under false charges of rebellion, she herself was dismissed from office. Having tasted impermanence to its bitter depths, she turned to Buddhism as the refuge of her heart.
For the anguish of her brother's wrongful death, for the suffering of her stepmother who condemned him, and for her own torment—Princess Ōku needed the salvation offered by hotoke. This was the very same reason that Princess Chūjō would later enter the Buddhist path.
It was not only Princess Ōku. Many shrine maidens found their answer in Buddhism. In lives that consumed their hearts with ceaseless ritual, they encountered a new idea: that the heart itself could be saved.
Just as Buddhist sculptors carved statues of the Buddha, so too did shrine maidens—becoming nuns, or weaving maidens—depict the Pure Land in embroidery. It is said that the first Buddhist image produced in Asuka Japan was not a sculpture but an embroidered Buddha (shūbutsu ).
The story of Princess Chūjō weaving the Taimadera Mandala from lotus threads in a single day is legendary. In reality, it was likely a tsuzure-ori brocade, a work of embroidery employing every known technique, spun not by one girl in a day but by many experienced women over many days.
Behind the legend of Princess Chūjō lies the shadow of Princess Ōku's tragedy. And not hers alone, but the heartfelt prayers of countless shrine maidens seem to be woven into it.
With the arrival of Buddhism, the shrine maidens—who had strained their hearts with curses, prayers, and ritual in service to the clans and the state—found in nunhood a path of relief. In seeking salvation for their own hearts, they transformed into Buddhist nuns.
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Sōkaren palanquin used to carry the Saiō
(Itsukinomiya Experience Center, Mie Prefecture) |
Tomb of Prince Ōtsu on Mt. Futakami
(Katsuragi, Nara Prefecture) |
Tomb of Princess Ōta, mother of Princess Ōku
and Prince Ōtsu (Koshizuka-no-mikado Kofun,
Asuka, Nara Prefecture) |
Conclusion — On Empress Genmei
Near Taimadera in Nara stands an ancient temple called Sekkō-ji. Within its grounds there remains a well known as "Princess Chūjō's Dyeing Well," said to have supplied the water in which lotus threads were dyed.
If Taimadera was the place where Princess Chūjō pursued the Buddhist path, then Sekkō-ji might be called the atelier where the Taimadera Mandala was created.
Something remarkable was discovered there.
In 1991 (Heisei 3), during excavations carried out for the rebuilding of Sekkō-ji's Maitreya Hall, archaeologists uncovered a late Asuka (Hakuhō)-period stone image of Maitreya (now a Nara Prefecture Tangible Cultural Property), along with roof tiles and molded Buddha plaques.
Kawakami Kunihiko of the Kashihara Archaeological Research Institute reported in the preliminary bulletin:
"We cannot definitively say that the Maitreya Hall was built as a memorial hall for Prince Ōtsu, yet the finds support this hypothesis. Two types of senbutsu (molded Buddha plaques) are from the same molds as those from the Natsumi temple ruins in Nabari, Mie Prefecture. Identical senbutsu are often found dispersed across many temples; however, Natsumi Haiji was neither a central state temple nor a large complex. It is difficult to imagine that a temple within the Yamato Basin would have the same Buddhas as Natsumi. Moreover, the Natsumi examples are superior in variety and casting, suggesting Natsumi came first. Considering that both documents and excavations strongly indicate Natsumi Haiji to be Shōfuku-ji, founded on the vow of Princess Ōku (Ōku no Himemiko), the discovery of identical Buddhas at Natsumi and at Sekkō-ji is suggestive. In other words, it becomes easier to suppose that Princess Ōku established, within Sekkō-ji—long associated with the imperial family—a memorial hall for Prince Ōtsu."
(Here, "Natsumi Haiji" refers to the temple ruins believed to be Shōfuku-ji, which, according to one view, Princess Ōku founded to pray for the repose of Prince Ōtsu.)
Sekkō-ji's founding is estimated around Tenmu 9 (680 CE), and the construction of the Maitreya Hall within its precincts around Jitō 8 (694 CE), eight years after Prince Ōtsu's execution.
Fragments of what may be Japan's oldest stone Maitreya statue were excavated at Sekkō-ji—closely linked to Princess Chūjō. The hall that housed it is said to have been erected by Princess Ōku as a memorial for her brother. Taimadera, also associated with Princess Chūjō, is likewise thought to have been established in the same period, and the Maitreya enshrined there closely resembles the stone Maitreya unearthed at Sekkō-ji.
As for the National Treasure Taimadera Mandala, which legend says Princess Chūjō wove alone from lotus fibers in a single day: the textile in question appears to be a tsuzure-ori (tapestry brocade) in a technique not then practiced in Japan, making it highly likely to be an import from Tang China. Considering the connection between Sekkō-ji and Princess Ōku, I once imagined that the mandala might have been woven by Princess Ōku together with many women who had left their roles as shrine maidens to become nuns. That possibility, however, now seems slim.
So who placed the Taimadera Mandala at Taimadera, and when? In that era, who possessed the capacity to transport and donate a tapestry mandala roughly four meters square from Tang China to Japan? And why to Taimadera?
—The period is likely the late Hakuhō to early Nara. If we think in terms of offerings for memorial purposes to Taimadera and Sekkō-ji, then, given the circumstances, they may have been intended to honor Emperor Tenmu, with a parallel intention to console the spirit of Prince Ōtsu. But even as a member of the imperial family, Princess Ōku—sister of a man condemned as a traitor—probably did not have the necessary power.
As my thoughts turn over these questions, a figure emerges: the woman I mentioned in "4. Princess Ōku After Leaving Her Post as Saiō"—Princess Ōku's cousin, Empress Genmei (the 43rd sovereign), and the 44th sovereign, Empress Genshō, who carried on her will. From the Taika Reform onward, together with Princess Ōku, they were women who endured and overcame struggles for clan power.
For now, it remains my conjecture alone. Yet in the background of the Princess Chūjō legend, I cannot help but see the overlapping images of Princess Ōku and the shrine maidens, struggling to free themselves from the binding spell of Amaterasu Ōmikami—and of Empress Genmei herself.
Let me close by repeating a singular fact: Empress Genmei is the only emperor in Japanese history who, at the time of her death, forbade the building of a mausoleum and prohibited all funeral rites, including mogari (lying-in-state).