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A holiday had been declared, amnesty had been granted to 100,000 prisoners, and an estimated 10,000 other young couples also got married. But there was at least one Japanese who resented the festive occasion. As the bridal entourage rolled down one of Tokyo's main streets, a 19-year-old boy threw a stone at the couple. When he missed, he tried to climb inside the carriage. As Michiko took refuge across Akihito's lap, two liveried footmen shoved the youth aside; half a dozen policemen knocked him to the ground and then led him away. He proved to be one Kensetsu Nakayama, a former gas-station attendant who had failed to pass two university entrance examinations. "I only wanted Akihito to get out and talk to me," he insisted at police headquarters. "I wanted to convince him that Japan should be a republic." Unaware of what genteel penury the Japanese royal family lives in, he also seemed to think that royal pomp was a heavy drain on the poor.
Kensetsu Nakayama may have been the only stone-throwing republican in sight, but Akihito's unprecedented marriage was not quite the big draw everyone anticipated. Though officials had expected at least 1,000,000 people to jam the streets, only about half that number showed up; modern Japan preferred to watch the proceedings on television. Back in 1924, the Emperor's wedding had cost $1,500,000; the bill for Akihito's, with all banquets and receptions included, will come to only $140,000. The crowds waved and cheered, but not with the same frenzied banzais that once greeted the heir to the Emperor.
The 26 Rice Cakes. In fact, it will be Akihito's task—well begun with his marriage to Michiko—to find a new publie role for the royal family. Palace officials have lately been quizzing British guests at cocktail parties for advice on how to achieve that successful British blend of public affection and respect. The royal couple have been advised to show themselves especially fond of children and of the poor.
By 6 p.m.. Tokyo was quiet again. The royal couple ate an early supper, read the evening papers, watched themselves for a while on TV. Finally, the 80-year-old Chief Ritualist and his wife brought in the four silver trays with the 26 rice cakes that would remain on the bedroom altar for three days to ensure the early arrival of an heir. At 10 p.m., lights went out at the Eastern Palace.