You’ve probably seen the Studio Ghibli movie. Or maybe you stumbled across a reference to a "Moon Princess" while playing Okami or watching Sailor Moon. But honestly, the original source material—a 10th-century narrative called Taketori Monogatari—is way weirder and more radical than most people realize. It’s widely considered the oldest surviving Japanese monogatari (prose narrative), and it basically invented science fiction centuries before the genre had a name.
We’re talking about a story written in the late ninth or early tenth century. That’s over a thousand years ago. Yet, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya deals with themes that feel modern: the autonomy of women, the crushing weight of societal expectations, and the literal "alienation" of being from another world.
The Bamboo Cutter’s Discovery
It all starts with a guy named Sanuki no Miyatsuko. He’s an old bamboo cutter just trying to make a living in the forest. One day, he sees a stalk of bamboo glowing. Not like a soft shimmer, but a literal internal light. Inside, he finds a tiny girl, barely three inches tall. He takes her home, she grows into a full-sized woman in just three months, and suddenly, every time the old man cuts bamboo, he finds gold inside.
The family gets rich. Like, "move to the capital and hire tutors" rich. They name her Kaguya-hime, which basically means the "Radiant Princess of the Supple Bamboo."
But here’s the thing: Kaguya isn't happy about any of it. She didn't ask to be "found," and she certainly didn't ask for the fame that follows. Word of her beauty spreads like wildfire. Soon, every man in Japan wants a piece of the "Radiant Princess." This is where the story shifts from a fairy tale into a biting social satire about greed and the male gaze.
The Five Impossible Tasks (And Why They Matter)
Eventually, five high-ranking princes show up at her door. They won't leave. They’re persistent, annoying, and entitled. Kaguya’s father, who loves her but is also obsessed with her "marrying well" to secure her status, begs her to choose one.
Kaguya's response is legendary. She doesn't just say "no." She sets up a series of "impossible tasks." Each suitor is assigned a legendary item to retrieve:
- The stone begging bowl of the Buddha from India.
- A branch from a tree with silver roots and gold branches from the mythical island of Horai.
- A robe made of fire-rat fur from China.
- A colored jewel from a dragon’s neck.
- A cowry shell born from a swallow.
What’s fascinating is how these men react. They don't just go on adventures; they try to cheat. One prince hires jewelers to fake the branch. Another buys a fake robe that burns the second it touches fire. One guy literally falls out of a tree and breaks his back trying to find a bird's nest.
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It’s hilarious but also deeply cynical. The author of The Tale of the Princess Kaguya clearly had some beef with the aristocracy of the Heian period. By showing these "noble" men as liars and cowards, the story elevates Kaguya. She isn't just a prize; she's the smartest person in the room. She uses their own greed against them to maintain her freedom.
The Emperor and the Moon
Then things get serious. The Emperor of Japan hears about her. Unlike the princes, he doesn't try to cheat. He actually seems to respect her. They exchange poetry for three years. In the Heian court, poetry was the ultimate form of intimacy.
But even the Emperor can’t have her.
Kaguya starts acting strange. She stares at the moon and cries. Finally, she drops the bombshell on her adoptive parents: she isn't from Earth. She’s a princess from the Moon (the Tsuki-no-Miyako or Capital of the Moon). She was sent to Earth as a temporary punishment—though the text is famously vague about what "crime" she committed. Some scholars, like those who analyze the Man'yoshu era of literature, suggest her crime was simply a desire to experience the messy, emotional world of humans.
The deadline is approaching. On the night of the full moon, the celestial entourage will come to take her back. The Emperor sends 2,000 archers to guard her house. They stand on the roof, ready to shoot anything that moves.
It doesn't matter. When the Moon people arrive, a blinding light paralyzes the soldiers. The celestial beings aren't "aliens" in the modern sense of little green men, but they are profoundly inhuman. They offer Kaguya a robe of feathers. Once she puts it on, she will lose all her earthly memories. She will forget the bamboo cutter, her mother, and her love for the Emperor.
She tries to resist. She writes a final letter to the Emperor and gives him the Elixir of Life that the Moon people brought. She puts on the robe, and—poof. Her humanity vanishes. She leaves with a cold, blank expression.
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The Mount Fuji Connection
The ending is the ultimate gut-punch. The Emperor receives the letter and the elixir. He realizes that without Kaguya, he doesn't want to live forever. He orders his men to take the elixir to the highest mountain in Japan—the one closest to the Heavens—and burn it.
Legend says that the smoke from that fire still rises today. That’s why the mountain is called "Fuji." One theory is that the name comes from the word fushi (immortality). Another is that it comes from fujun (abundant with soldiers) because of the army that climbed it. Either way, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya provides a mythological origin for Japan's most famous landmark.
Why This Story is Actually "Proto-Sci-Fi"
If you look at the structure of the story, it hits all the beats of a classic first-contact narrative.
- An extraterrestrial entity arrives on Earth.
- The entity is "adopted" by locals.
- The entity possesses advanced technology (the gold in the bamboo).
- The entity experiences "cultural shock" and eventual retrieval by their home civilization.
It’s wild to think that while Europeans were still centuries away from The Canterbury Tales, Japanese writers were imagining celestial beings descending in flying chariots.
Common Misconceptions
People often think Kaguya is just a "sad girl" story. It’s not. Kaguya is incredibly defiant. In many ways, she is a prototype for the "rebel" character. She rejects the most powerful men in the country. She rejects the Emperor. She even tries to reject her own "perfect" society on the Moon because, despite the suffering on Earth, she found the human experience beautiful.
Another big mistake is thinking the Studio Ghibli film is the "definitive" version. Don't get me wrong—Isao Takahata’s 2013 masterpiece is a work of art. But the movie adds a lot of "pastoral" elements and a childhood friend (Sutemaru) who doesn't exist in the original text. The original 10th-century story is much colder and more focused on the political failures of the suitors.
What We Can Learn From Kaguya Today
There is a profound lesson here about the "weight of being." Kaguya’s celestial family views human emotions as a "impurity." To them, being human is a punishment because humans feel pain, aging, and loss. But Kaguya’s tears suggest that these things—the very things that make us "impure"—are what make life worth living.
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If you’re looking to explore this further, there are a few things you should do:
Read the Original Translation
Look for the translation by Donald Keene in Anthropology of Japanese Literature. It captures the dry, slightly snarky tone of the original narrator. You’ll see that the story isn't just a legend; it’s a comedy of manners.
Watch the 2013 Film (With Context)
Watch the Ghibli version, but pay attention to the art style. Takahata used a sketch-like, watercolor style specifically to mimic the emaki (picture scrolls) of the Heian period. It’s a visual tribute to the era the story was born in.
Explore the "Moon" Archetype in Anime
Once you know the story of Kaguya, you’ll see it everywhere. Look at Sailor Moon (obviously), Naruto (the character Kaguya Otsutsuki), or Kaguya-sama: Love is War. All of these play with the idea of a "distant" or "unattainable" woman who originates from a higher plane of existence.
Visit the "Bamboo Forest" in Arashiyama
If you ever go to Kyoto, walk through the Arashiyama bamboo grove. It’s easy to see why someone 1,000 years ago would imagine a celestial princess hiding inside those stalks. The way the light filters through the green leaves—it really does look like it's glowing from within.
The story of Kaguya isn't just an old fairy tale. It’s a reminder that even a millennium ago, humans were grappling with the same stuff we are today: the desire for freedom, the pain of saying goodbye, and the nagging feeling that we might actually belong somewhere else.
Next time you look at the moon, think about the Elixir of Life burning on top of Fuji. It's a pretty heavy image for a "kids' story," right? That’s the power of Japanese folklore. It stays with you because it doesn't offer easy happy endings. It offers truth.
Next Steps for the Reader:
- Compare the five tasks in the original text to the "trials" in modern hero's journey stories to see how little narrative structure has changed in 1,000 years.
- Research the "Hagoromo" (feather robe) myth, which is a recurring motif in Japanese folklore regarding the loss of divinity.
- Check out the "Kaguya" lunar orbiter mission by JAXA, which shows how this 10th-century tale still influences Japan's literal space exploration today.