The Princess Kaguya of Taketori Village Prologue

   Well, welcome! You've grown so much; you're no longer Natsumi-chan, but Miss Natsumi now. Oh, my, it was quite a surprise for a moment—I thought your mother had appeared. You've really started to resemble her. When I received the letter saying you passed the entrance exam for the Department of Japanese Literature at the university, what immediately came to mind was the Natsumi who came to this "story house" with your mother. Do you remember? Back then, whenever you came here, you'd always say, "Obasan, auntie, tell us that story." I wonder if you remember that story, the one Natsumi loved the most at that time.
    It's a tale from long, long ago. In a certain village, there lived an old man and an old woman. The old woman went to the river to do laundry, and the old man went to the mountains to cut grass. After the old man crossed the mountain pass, he set down his backpack, took up his sickle, and just as he was about to start cutting the grass, he suddenly let out a fart. The old man, instead of cutting the grass, ended up smelling like grass.
    When you start telling this story, you cover your mouth with both hands, desperately trying to contain your laughter, but when it comes to the part where the old man let out a fart, you just can't hold it in anymore. Your adorable mouth opens wide, and you burst into laughter—oh, how cute it was! Just hearing your laughter, I would become so lively and energetic.
It's been four years since your mother passed away, hasn't it? On the day your mother passed away, I always stacks the books and papers she left behind here, opens a bottle of wine that your mother liked, and though I can't drink much, she sips a little while having a conversation with your mother in heaven.
 
   Natsumi-san, I'm sure the days following your mother's passing were difficult, but you've finally become a university student. Entering the Department of Japanese Literature and expressing a desire to research folktales—it's evident that your mother's spirit is firmly flowing within you. As you'll come to understand more and more in the future, your mother was an accomplished scholar of Japanese literature. One book that brought your mother's name to fame is "Taketori Monogatari Ron" (A Study of The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter), which holds many memories for me as well. Your mother traveled all over Japan to collect folktales, and whenever she returned from her research trips, she would always stop by here. With sparkling eyes, she would share the newly collected folktales, and I have fond memories of those moments.
There was a time when your mother asked me a question. She inquired, "Miyoshi-san, don't you tell the Tale of the Bamboo Cutter?" When she asked, I responded, "Oh, I just can't come to like that one at all."
 
   Then your mother said the exact same thing! From then on, the two of us mercilessly criticized "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter." We'd go on, "What's with that Kaguya-hime? Living a life of luxury, playing around with men, and then when the suitor comes, she just says, 'Alright, goodbye,' and goes back to the moon with such a nonchalant attitude. What on earth did that princess come to Earth for? The only noteworthy thing she did was having the old man build a nouveau-riche mansion. If you think about it, there's an underlying theme of nouveau riche or materialistic thinking in the story, along with a flirtatiousness that panders only to the emperor. It's a story that sews in plenty of the most repulsive aspects of the Japanese spirit. While only boring men appear in the story, the only decent one is a man named Ōtomo-no-Miyuki, who sees through Kaguya-hime's true nature. That woman is nothing but a big villain."
 
   After the two of us criticized it so harshly, believe it or not, your mother published "Taketori Monogatari Ron" a year later. She argued that "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter" is a literature full of defects, with shallow depths and a revealed poverty of spirit. She claimed that due to elevating such a weak story as if it were the source of all stories, Japanese literature was lagging behind by five hundred years. She sharply and eloquently discussed these points in her publication. When the book was released, it caused a tremendous uproar, spreading not only within the world of Japanese literature but also reaching newspapers and magazines. "Taketori Monogatari Ron" controversies erupted here and there. Since the scholarly world is conservative, the book faced severe criticism, but the more it was attacked, the more the true value of the book shone through. When the turmoil settled, "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter," which had been a god-like presence in classical literature, was ruthlessly dragged down to the ground.
 
   However, the purpose of your mother writing this book wasn't to devalue or drag down the story. It's written in the last chapter of the book that in "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter," there is just one mysterious line. It's the words spoken by the messenger from the moon when they come to take Kaguya-hime back. The messenger says that the princess committed a sin in the world of the moon and was expelled to Earth as a punishment. However, her sin has now been forgiven, allowing her to return to the moon. The book raises the question: What kind of sin did Kaguya-hime commit on the moon, and how did she atone for it on Earth to be allowed to return to the moon? It's by containing this mystery that the value of "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter" is barely saved. Thanks to this line, the story is left with a path to revive in the modern era. That's what your mother wrote in the last chapter.
 
   And if modern storytellers were to shed light on this mysterious line and write a new Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, the original ancient Tale of the Bamboo Cutter itself could also be infused with new life and revived in the present. In other words, "Taketori Monogatari Ron" was also a challenge to contemporary storytellers. It urged them to take the foundational work that has survived for a thousand years in Japanese storytelling and recreate it into a new narrative, bringing it back to life in the modern era.
 
   However, such a story did not come into existence. Your mother, who posed sharp questions, also departed. I thought that the Tale of the Bamboo Cutter was ultimately just that. However, just recently, Auntie finally came across the long-awaited work your mother had hoped for. If you drive for about an hour from here, you'll reach a town called Myōka. There stands the Myōka Jingū-ji, an old temple built in the Kamakura period. Behind the Myōka Jingū-ji, there was a storehouse, but a recent typhoon in Shinshu brought down a large cedar tree, causing it to collapse onto the storehouse. The shattered storehouse had no choice but to be dismantled, and as they proceeded with the work, it turned out that beneath the storehouse was an underground storage. In there, a large number of documents from the Kamakura period were stored, and among them was:

"Revised Tale of the Bamboo Cutter in the Miura Family Collection"
 
   There was a document from ancient times titled "Revised Tale of the Bamboo Cutter in the Miura Family Collection" mixed in there. When you unravel the history, you find that the Miura family was a prominent clan that prospered on the Miura Peninsula during the Kamakura period. Since Minamoto no Yoritomo established the shogunate in Kamakura, the Miura clan had been a powerful family supporting the shogunate. However, in the first year of the Hōji era, during the so-called Hōji Disturbance, the Miura clan barricaded themselves in the Hōkē-dō and, just before the disturbance erupted, over 500 members of the clan committed mass suicide. It has been passed down that just before this uprising, in preparation for the revival of the Miura family, documents from the Miura family collection were transported to the distant land of Shinshu. The discovery of these documents now supports that tradition. Myōka Jingū-ji was also established by that very clan.
 
   The ancient document has been deciphered by a group led by Professor Kyama at Shinshu University, and the work is still ongoing. I've been friends with Professor Kyama for a long time, and almost every month, he comes to this "story house" and explains the results of the deciphering line by line. It's been days of excitement, and what surprised me the most is that the mystery your mother pointed out—what sin Kaguya-hime committed on the moon—is beautifully unraveled in this story. It seems that this tale from the Kamakura period was written to shed light on that enigmatic line. It's incredible to think that even in the Kamakura period, eight hundred years ago, there were writers pondering the same questions as your mother, us, and me.
 
   What makes "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter" interesting is the adventures of the five imperial princes who proposed to Kaguya-hime. However, these adventures are all rather stingy, tricky, and deceitful. They tell a lot about the reality of the aristocracy at that time—revealing their true nature with lies, disguises, and hiding in the mountains. While it may have its meaning in exposing the realities of the aristocracy of the time, the characters are generally quite miserly. However, in the Tale of the Bamboo Cutter discovered at the Myōka Jingū-ji, the five imperial princes are portrayed as characters with human struggles. The tragedies they bear carry a depth reminiscent of a Shakespearean play. Moreover, the story takes these princes on actual journeys—to the sea, the land, and the land of the sand. This aspect elevates the narrative to a cosmic scale.
 
   Among the five imperial princes, the last one introduced is Prince Ishizukuri. After completing his long journey, he kneels on a mountain of rubble, weeping and uttering a line. The reason Auntie couldn't help but burst into tears during that scene is because this story truly engraves the essence of human suffering.
 
   What adds even more charm to "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter" is the introduction of a character named Eikichi, who is not present in the original text. Originally, the Tale of the Bamboo Cutter was a story about aristocrats, featuring members of the noble class. However, during the Kamakura period, the author introduced a young man from a poor bamboo-cutting village, transforming it into a commoner's story. By bringing in Eikichi, Kaguya-hime becomes a princess beloved by the people. Kaguya-hime, loved by Eikichi, becomes even more enchanting. That's why the scene where the princess returns to the moon becomes even more dramatic. Why did a work like this sleep for 760 years? If this story had been widely read and known in the Kamakura period—or even in the Muromachi or Edo periods—Japanese literature might have taken a different path.
 
   When I received the joyful letter from Natsumi-san, announcing your acceptance into the university's Department of Japanese Literature, I thought about various gifts to celebrate your admission. However, being poor, I couldn't afford anything expensive. So, I thought there's only one gift for you, and that's why I invited you here. The deciphering work of this document will soon be completed, and the entire text will be published shortly. But as of now, it hasn't been shared with anyone yet. Therefore, what we're discussing here is like the world's first premiere. To Natsumi-san, who is about to embark on the study of Japanese folktales, and to my dear friend living within Natsumi-san, I want to present "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter" crafted by Enkū from the Kamakura period as a celebration of your admission.