402 Picture Books from Fukushima, Origami Cranes Transforming into Akabeko, and Diplomats from 11 Countries at the Memorial—How is Hiroshima’s “Gratitude” Being Returned?

Hiroshima has helped someone. This fact is not often spoken of by Hiroshima itself. However, those who were helped remember it—the 402 picture books sent from Fukushima embody that memory.

Support has a direction: from the sender to the receiver. Yet, as time passes, that arrow can bend back at unexpected angles. From Fukushima to Hiroshima, from Hiroshima to Fukushima, and then from Hiroshima to the world. When we line up these three events, a system emerges where “gratitude” does not end as a one-way street.

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From Fukushima to Hiroshima—The Will to “Remember” Embedded in 402 Picture Books

A total of 402 picture books created by children from Kamoishi Town in Fukushima Prefecture have been delivered to Hiroshima City. Since the Great East Japan Earthquake, Hiroshima City has continuously sent staff and material support to the affected areas, with Kamoishi Town being one of the recipients.

The number 402 closely matches the number of children enrolled in the town’s elementary school. In other words, one book per child. The fact that everyone was involved lies behind this number. At the presentation ceremony, the mayor of Kamoishi Town stated, “We want to continue supporting the future of children with our feelings of gratitude.” What is noteworthy here is the subject of the phrase “we want to continue supporting.” Those who once received aid are now positioning themselves as the “providers” of support.

The contents of the picture books do not solely depict memories of the earthquake. They are filled with the everyday life of Kamoishi Town—scenes of rice fields, events at school, and time spent with family—expressed in the children’s words and drawings. This is not a report saying, “We have recovered,” but rather a presentation of the fact that “we have regained our everyday life.” When children in Hiroshima pick up these picture books, they see not only the landscapes of Fukushima but also the answer to what has been born from the support that reached them.

We should pause and reflect. The indicators for measuring the success of support are not limited to the execution rate of reconstruction budgets or the restoration rates of infrastructure. The quiet fact that children can once again create a picture book—this reality accumulates in the 402 books.

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Origami Cranes Transforming into Akabeko—The Cycle of Materials Connecting Two Lands

At Hiroshima’s Peace Memorial Park, it is said that around 10 million origami cranes are delivered each year. These cranes, symbols of prayer, have faced issues regarding what happens after they are received—storage, deterioration, and disposal. For many years, local governments have struggled with how to handle them amidst the weight of prayers and the lightness of paper.

In recent years, several projects have been launched to recycle these origami cranes into new products, including the traditional craft of Fukushima known as “Akabeko.” By incorporating the recycled materials from the cranes into the manufacturing process of Akabeko, Hiroshima’s prayers merge with Fukushima’s craftsmanship.

Akabeko has historically been created in the Aizu region of Fukushima as a good luck charm to ward off epidemics. Both the Akabeko, which drives away illness, and the origami cranes, which pray for peace, share the same root in wishing for a “future free from disaster.” Within this practical system of material reuse, a meaningful overlap is created.

What makes this project interesting is its design of a “pathway for goodwill.” Those who send origami cranes wish to deliver their prayers. The recipients cannot disregard those prayers. However, it is practically impossible to continue storing all 10 million cranes. Therefore, the shape of the prayers is transformed and delivered to the next place—this structure circulates goodwill rather than consuming it.

When a single origami crane becomes part of an Akabeko, the warmth of someone’s hand who prayed in Hiroshima reaches a new owner through the hands of a craftsman in Aizu. It may be a small amount as material, but that very pathway becomes a story.

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Diplomats from 11 Countries Stand Before the Memorial—Hiroshima as a “Place of Learning”

In Hiroshima, a training program for young diplomats led by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs is being conducted. Diplomats from 11 countries gathered to learn about the realities of the atomic bombing and laid flowers at the memorial.

There is a clear intention behind the design of this training. Participants do not simply “visit” Hiroshima; they listen to the testimonies of atomic bomb survivors, trace the process of reconstruction through documents, and view the exhibits at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum before standing in front of the memorial. They arrive at the act of laying flowers after having received ample information. The experience is structured to be one that carries both emotion and context.

The number of 11 countries is also significant. Many of the participating countries are selected from regions facing conflicts or political tensions. For them, Hiroshima is not just a “place of past tragedy” but an example of “how society was rebuilt from catastrophic destruction.” The process of reconstruction itself becomes a teaching material.

Now, let’s line up the three events. Picture books arrive from Fukushima to Hiroshima. Origami cranes from Hiroshima transform into Akabeko in Fukushima. The experiences of Hiroshima are passed on to diplomats from 11 countries. Each of these events has a structure of sending something received in one form to the next in a different form.

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Not “Repaying Gratitude” but “Sending Gratitude”—The Structure of Circulating Support

The term “repaying gratitude” implies an arrow going from A to B and then returning from B to A. However, what is happening here is slightly different. Fukushima sent picture books to Hiroshima, but this is not a “repayment” to Hiroshima. It is an act of delivering “something new” to the children of Hiroshima. The transformation of origami cranes into Akabeko is not about returning cranes to Hiroshima but about converting them into new value within the context of Fukushima. Similarly, when diplomats take what they learned in Hiroshima back to their home countries, it follows the same pattern.

This structure is closer to “sending gratitude” than “repaying gratitude.” It involves delivering what has been received not back to the original sender but to someone else next. In that process, the shape changes, meaning is added, and the destination expands.

What is important is that this is not merely driven by individual goodwill. The production of picture books is integrated into the school curriculum, the recycling of origami cranes involves collaboration between recycling businesses and craft artisans, and the training for diplomats is designed by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. By embedding goodwill into a system, it becomes a flow that is not a one-time event but repeatable.

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Future Points of Interest—Conditions for the System to “Continue”

There is a common challenge shared by these three initiatives: the need to “continue.”

The 402 picture books arrived this year. Whether they will arrive again next year depends on the school system, budget, and the “will to continue.” The origami crane recycling project also cannot succeed without a stable supply of materials and demand for the products. The effectiveness of the diplomat training will be limited if we cannot see what participants will practice after returning to their countries, as the experience in Hiroshima would remain locked in individual memories.

The moment a system is created is often the most beautiful. However, the true value of the system emerges in the second year and beyond. When the enthusiasm of the first year fades, will it continue to operate? The quality of the design is put to the test there.

A child from Fukushima is reading one of the picture books they created, and that child will feel something and deliver something to someone years later—what that will be is still unknown to anyone. However, the mechanism for delivering exists right here, right now. Where the arrow points next will be determined by the next person who inherits the system.