Mikan, Emperor Suinin, and the Gift from the Eternal Land
（シリーズ：和気清麻呂に学ぶ 第1回 みかん、垂仁天皇、そして常世からの贈り物）
Peel a mikan and you uncover a thread of history. It runs from the tachibana of Emperor Suinin to a statesman whose single statement stopped a usurpation.
Fresh Japanese mikan, with one cut open to reveal its bright orange segments—symbol of Emperor Suinin’s legend and the fruit of loyalty in Japanese history.
Introduction – Why Begin with a Mikan?
When you pick up a small, bright orange mikan in winter, you probably don’t think of emperors, immortality, or the survival of a nation. Yet in Japan, this humble fruit carries a story that reaches back nearly two thousand years. It is a story about love for the people, about loyalty, and about a vision of rulership very different from the empires of China or the kingdoms of the West. To understand the statesman Wake no Kiyomaro, we must first start with the mikan.
The Emperor Who Forbade Human Sacrifice
The story begins with Emperor Suinin (r. around the 1st century BCE), remembered as a ruler who dug ponds and promoted agriculture across the land. More importantly, he abolished the cruel custom of burying retainers alive at imperial tombs. Instead, he ordered the creation of clay figures—what we now call haniwa. In this way, Suinin turned away from blood and chose compassion, making him one of the first Japanese rulers to embody what we call Shirasu: governance that protects and nurtures the people, rather than treating them as possessions.
The Loyal Envoy and the Fruit of Eternity
In his reign, Suinin ordered a courtier named Tajimamori to sail across the seas to the mythical land of Tokoyo, the “Eternal Land,” in search of a legendary fruit said to grant long life. After ten years, Tajimamori returned with branches bearing fragrant fruit. But by then, the emperor had already passed away. Stricken with grief, Tajimamori wept at Suinin’s tomb and died there in sorrow. The fruit he carried back was the tachibana, a citrus ancestor of today’s mikan.
From Tachibana to Mikan – A Japanese Legacy
Over centuries, the tachibana was cultivated and refined into the mikan we know today. Unlike apples or grapes, the mikan is truly native to Japan. In fact, in English it is often called simply “mikan,” not “orange” or “tangerine.” Each winter, when Japanese families peel its thin skin and share the sweet sections, they are unknowingly partaking in a story that links daily life to imperial history, loyalty, and the ethos of Shirasu governance.
Toward Wake no Kiyomaro
Why begin a story about Wake no Kiyomaro with a fruit? Because the thread runs straight: from Emperor Suinin’s compassion, through Tajimamori’s loyalty, through the orange glow of the mikan, to the courage of Wake no Kiyomaro, who more than a thousand years later risked his life to protect the imperial line from usurpation. To understand Kiyomaro’s spirit, we must remember that it was nourished by a tradition where even a fruit could carry the memory of loyalty and love for the people.
