A Nation Watches: The Search for a Crown Princess

In the summer of 1951, Japan’s media erupted with excitement. The country’s two largest newspapers, Asahi Shimbun and Yomiuri Shimbun, had turned their attention to a matter of national importance: the impending adulthood of Crown Prince Akihito. On December 23, he would turn 18, and with that milestone came the weighty responsibility of selecting a bride.

For the Japanese imperial family, marriage was never a simple affair. Though Emperor Hirohito had renounced his divine status in 1946 with the Humanity Declaration, many traditions remained intact—chief among them, the rigid selection process for a crown prince’s consort. Historically, candidates were drawn exclusively from the kōzoku (imperial relatives) and kazoku (aristocratic families). Even after these titles were abolished in 1947, the selection committee still adhered to these boundaries.

But there was a problem. Post-war Japan had undergone profound social changes, and many eligible women from noble families had already chosen love over duty, marrying outside aristocratic circles. The committee found itself facing an unprecedented dilemma: no suitable candidates remained.

The Tennis Match That Changed Everything

In 1957, fate intervened on a tennis court in Karuizawa, a luxury resort town favored by Japan’s elite. The match had been arranged by the selection committee as a discreet way for Akihito to meet potential brides. Among the players was 23-year-old Michiko Shōda, a student at the prestigious Sacred Heart Women’s University.

Michiko was no ordinary young woman. Born into the wealthy Shōda family—her father was the president of Nisshin Flour Milling Company—she had been raised with the finest education, excelling in academics, music, and sports. Her teachers described her as “flawless.”

When she and her partner defeated Akihito in straight sets, the crown prince was smitten. He later arranged another tournament just to see her again. Soon, letters and phone calls followed. But Michiko’s parents were hesitant. The imperial household was a gilded cage, and they feared their daughter would never truly belong.

Love Against Tradition

The courtship faced fierce opposition. Traditionalists sneered that Akihito was “picking a bride off a tennis court,” while politicians questioned whether a “commoner” could uphold imperial dignity. But Akihito was resolute. In a bold move, he declared: “If Michiko is willing, nothing else matters.”

Emperor Hirohito, perhaps recalling his own struggles to marry his chosen bride, ultimately gave his blessing. On April 10, 1959, Akihito and Michiko wed in a ceremony watched by millions. Polls showed 87% of the public supported the union—a rare moment of unity in post-war Japan.

The Lonely Empress

Yet marriage was only the beginning of Michiko’s trials. The imperial household, steeped in centuries of protocol, was unforgiving to an outsider. Empress Kōjun, Akihito’s mother, made no secret of her disapproval. Court officials, led by the formidable “Japanese Housemistress” Masako Makino, subjected Michiko to relentless scrutiny.

She was chastised for speaking too much in public, for her clothing choices, even for the length of her gloves. The stress took a visible toll—Michiko, once radiant, grew gaunt and withdrawn. Rumors swirled that she had fallen into depression.

But she refused to be broken. Michiko quietly revolutionized imperial life, abolishing the archaic wet-nurse system and insisting on raising her children herself. She even installed a private kitchen—a first for any Japanese empress.

A Legacy of Change

Time softened the palace’s rigid walls. When Hirohito died in 1989 and Akihito ascended the throne, Michiko finally stepped into her own. She became a global ambassador, charming world leaders with her grace and fluency in English.

Yet even in old age, she defied expectations. In 2013, she stunned Japan by announcing she would not be buried with Akihito, declaring: “I was born a commoner, and I will die as one.”

Their love story, born on a tennis court, had reshaped Japan’s monarchy. And when Akihito abdicated in 2019—another unprecedented act—it was perhaps the final proof that theirs was a marriage not of duty, but of true partnership.

In the end, Michiko Shōda proved that even in the world’s oldest monarchy, love could rewrite history.