100-Year-Old Kimono Instructor × Bon Odori After 20 Years × Gyoza Shop Taken Over by Regulars — Analyzing the Mechanism of Continuation

A single person’s passion cannot sustain something for 70 years. When we line up the kimono class in Hiroshima, the Bon Odori in Yamaguchi, and a gyoza shop in Hiroshima, what emerges in common is not the individual’s determination but the existence of a “mechanism” woven between people. Who does this make comfortable? From that question, let’s decode these three sites.

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“The Cycle of Connections” Supporting a 70-Year-Old Classroom — 100-Year-Old Kimono Instructor Yachie Seto

“Retirement is when you go into the coffin.”

These are the words of Yachie Seto, a 100-year-old active kimono instructor who celebrated her milestone in Hiroshima City. When asked about her secret to longevity by the mayor on Respect for the Aged Day, she replied — “Connections with people.”

The fact that she has been running her class for over 70 years is astonishing in itself, but it’s worth pausing to think about it. Seventy years is not a distance that can be covered solely by an individual’s willpower. While it is undeniable that Seto’s passion was the starting point for the class’s “continuation,” that alone does not explain it.

In the setting of a kimono class, there exists a unique cycle. Students learn and eventually bring their own daughters or granddaughters. Former students take on roles as assistants, supporting the class. The boundary between “teacher” and “learner” dissolves over time. The background of Seto’s class lasting for 70 years may quietly lie in this “cycle of connections” — the mechanism where those who were taught become supporters.

Seto herself simply refers to it as “connections.” Yet, within that single word lies the structure that has maintained the classroom with dozens of students coming and going. She may not even realize — that very “connection” is the mechanism that has kept her active at the age of 100.

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What Filled a 20-Year Gap Was “Preparation” — The Revival of Bon Odori in Iwakuni

In Iwakuni City, Yamaguchi Prefecture, Bon Odori has made a comeback after 20 years. About 4,000 people gathered. The sight of young and old dancing to Bon Jovi’s music was a vibrant fusion of tradition and the present.

However, what I want to focus on here is not the festival’s splendor on the day itself, but the weight of the 20-year gap.

Running the Bon Odori requires more preparation than one might imagine. Securing the venue, arranging sound equipment, setting up the yagura, managing traffic, informing the neighborhood, and teaching dance choreography — those who once took on these responsibilities have aged, and the know-how has dissipated. Those who were middle school students 20 years ago are now in their mid-30s. Their memories of the dance may even be vague.

In other words, what was needed for the revival was not just the desire to do it, but the practical work of reorganizing the preparations from scratch and the presence of people willing to take it on. Without the collaboration of local volunteers, neighborhood associations, and shopping districts, a gathering of 4,000 people would not have been possible.

Participants reportedly voiced, “We want to do this again next year.” This statement is both hopeful and a question. Will there be people who can manage the same preparations next year? Can the enthusiasm be transformed into a mechanism? Whether this revival becomes a one-time event or transitions into a “continuation” depends on the mundane tasks that begin the day after the festival.

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When “Customers” Become “Continuers” — The Revival of Gyoza Shop “Gyoza no Miwa”

“Gyoza no Miwa,” a beloved gyoza shop in Hiroshima, announced its closure in 2024. When the decision was made, a regular customer stepped up to take over the signboard.

“I want to preserve the traditional taste and deliver it to the local people.”

Upon hearing this, I paused for a moment. The succession of a restaurant cannot be described solely as a beautiful story. Relationships with suppliers, the accuracy of recipe reproduction, the condition of kitchen equipment, rent negotiations, and health department permits — what needs to be inherited is not just the “taste” but the countless relationships that make the shop viable.

According to statistics from the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications, the rate of successor absence in small and medium-sized enterprises still exceeds 60%. It is even more severe in the restaurant industry. Many individual restaurants close due to the aging of owners and the absence of successors. While many people may feel that “it would be a shame to lose this taste,” very few are willing to take on the risk of succession.

That is why this case, where a regular customer has transformed into a successor, holds structural significance beyond a mere beautiful story. Because they have frequented the counter for years, they know the shop’s atmosphere, customer base, and the contours of its flavors intimately. This accumulation may bridge the greatest hurdle in business succession — the “discontinuity of context.”

Regular customers were not just consumers. Over a long period, they had become part of the shop.

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Common Structures in the Three Sites — “Connections” as a Mechanism

Let’s line up the three cases.

The angles are entirely different. A 100-year-old individual, a festival with 4,000 people, and a single gyoza shop. Yet, the conclusion lands in the same place — what enables “continuation” is not individual effort, but the relationships woven between people functioning as a mechanism.

In Seto’s class, the structure was born where those who were taught became teachers, allowing the class to persist beyond a single lifespan. In the Bon Odori, the connection between generations with memories and those capable of handling practical tasks bridged a 20-year gap. In the gyoza shop, the relationship that transcended the boundary between consumer and provider moved the most challenging aspect of business succession.

None of these continuations were solely due to someone “doing their best.” The circuits for continuation were already embedded within the relationships.

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The Questions Behind “Continuation”

However, I want to reserve one caveat here. It is precarious to unconditionally romanticize the act of “continuation.”

Who bears the cost of continuing? Is the burden on the volunteers managing the preparations for the Bon Odori sustainable? Can the regular customer who took over the gyoza shop endure the realities of management? Will the kimono class continue after Seto steps away from the podium?

The mechanism of “continuation” appears beautiful because the efforts of the people supporting it are often invisible. The moment we forget that there are people within the mechanism, it transforms into a device that exhausts individuals.

That is why we must continue to question. Who does this mechanism make comfortable? Is anyone being placed under excessive burden? Is there a clear line drawn between continuing and being made to continue?

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What Local Activities Teach Us

All three sites are rooted in the mundane daily life, far removed from glamorous innovations. Teaching kimono dressing, joining the dance circle, and wrapping gyoza. In that repetition, the relationships between people are gradually woven, and eventually, they become the structure for “continuation.”

Mechanisms do not necessarily emerge from blueprints. In the daily activities, someone supports someone else, and the supported person then supports another — that nested chain can, before we know it, become a mechanism. I believe that is the essence of what is happening in local communities.

Yachie Seto spoke of “connections with people.” Within that short phrase lies the structure of 70 years.