Back when she was a student at Harvard, Masako Owada introduced some of her friends to a card game called Emperor. The various players drew titles from emperor to commoner. Funny thing was that Owada always managed to win: when she played she always turned out to be empress.
Who says that cards do not deal the hand of fate? Owada seems to have the world at her feet. On June 9 she will marry Crown Prince Naruhito, who will be the next Emperor of Japan, the world's oldest monarchy. The Japanese royal family does not have private wealth like Britain's Queen Elizabeth, but the government takes splendid care of it. More important, the imperial family enjoys the nation's respect, unlike the beleaguered Windsors, who may be only a few tapes away from oblivion. As crown princess, Owada will deal with the world's most powerful and interesting people -- statesmen, business leaders, educators, artists -- and travel the globe. If she decides she wants to learn something new -- say, the violin or calligraphy -- tutors of consummate skill are right at hand.
Best of all, she is marrying a husband who appears to care for her deeply. Heaven knows he has campaigned long and hard to win her. Victory came six years after the couple met in 1986 and after she had turned him down twice. When the pair gave their engagement press conference, Naruhito, 33, was fairly bursting with pride. He beamed constantly and offered his "heartfelt thanks" to his bride-to-be. A member of the Owada family acknowledges the crucial importance of the suitor's ardor. "It is easy to see that this was not an easy decision. One decisive factor was the strength of love that, as a human being, she must have felt very intensely from the prince."
The choice was hard because Masako Owada had another world at her feet -- one earned by her own efforts rather than inherited or acquired by marriage -- that was incompatible with membership in the imperial family. Until she resigned last January, she was a rising young member of the Foreign Ministry, conducting shuttle diplomacy with Washington on such issues as semiconductor trade talks and Japan's refusal to accept foreign lawyers. At 29, with graceful, perfect English and a sharp, analytical mind, she had a chance to pierce the glass ceiling that prevents Japanese women from rising to prestigious positions in government and business. She had the potential to let in some fresh gusts of revolutionary air. There can be no doubt that Owada knows her worth.
So do her countrymen. The winning of Masako-san, the familiar and endearing title by which she is usually called, is seen as a triumph for the imperial family. On an international level, the press is avid: unlike the feckless Brits and the sulky Grimaldis, this pair are good-news royals, appealing, admirable and with the allure of mystery. Tabloids and weeklies have become fascinated by the young woman with the Mona Lisa smile and habit of looking upward from downcast eyes -- not unlike the young Lady Di. At home, Masakomania dominates the thriving women's magazine business, although Owada has given no interviews and precious few photo opportunities.