A researcher is added to the register. A foreign commentator reflects the night sky. Two cities are connected by 75 hours of prayer— the ‘inheritance’ of the atomic bombing experience has, without notice, transformed from a straight line into a circuit.

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The Significance of Mr. Akira Morishige’s Name Being Engraved on the Register

On August 6, 2025, Hiroshima City added a new name to the register of atomic bomb victims. Among them is the name of historian Akira Morishige.

Many may remember Mr. Morishige. He was the one who embraced then-President Barack Obama, the first sitting U.S. president to visit Hiroshima, at the Peace Memorial Park in May 2016. However, that moment did not occur spontaneously. After being exposed to the atomic bomb at the age of six, Mr. Morishige spent decades independently investigating the identities and fates of twelve American POWs who lost their lives in Hiroshima. His relentless pursuit of records of ‘those who died here,’ regardless of friend or foe, culminated in that meeting with the president.

The inscription of Mr. Morishige’s name in the register is not merely an administrative procedure. This register, which Hiroshima City dedicates to the memorial monument during the annual Peace Memorial Ceremony on August 6, had recorded a cumulative total of 339,227 names by 2024. Each time a name is added, the register slightly increases in thickness. This change in physical weight is a concrete manifestation of the will to ‘not forget.’

The essence of what Mr. Morishige left behind is not solely in ‘telling’ the atomic bombing experience. Digging up records, cross-referencing facts, and restoring names to nameless dead—this diligent behind-the-scenes work ultimately laid the foundation for dialogue that transcends national borders. The structure of the records opened emotional circuits. It is worth pausing to consider this structure.

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When the Ukrainian Night Sky is Reflected in Hiroshima

In the same Hiroshima, another circuit is in motion.

A Ukrainian stargazing commentator held a star projection event in Hiroshima City. Inside a small planetarium dome, the night sky of Ukraine was projected. The commentator spoke of the names of constellations from their homeland and shared folk tales related to the stars, occasionally pausing to say, ‘Right now, in my hometown, we cannot safely look up at this night sky.’—when those words fell into the dark dome, the audience’s breathing changed slightly.

At first glance, the theme of the night sky seems far removed from the inheritance of the atomic bombing experience. However, the significance of this projection taking place in Hiroshima lies in its proximity. In a city scorched by air raids and the atomic bomb, one gazes upon the night sky of a country currently under fire. Despite the differences in time and place, there are moments when the sensation of ‘the sky above is not safe’ overlaps.

This phenomenon deserves a more careful examination before wrapping it up in grand phrases like ‘a bridge of peace.’ The commentator is not a peace activist; they are a star expert. Although the angle of expertise is different, standing in Hiroshima changes the context of the narrative. The way the audience receives the message also changes. It is not an intentionally designed ‘inheritance program,’ but rather an accidental resonance that emerges when place, people, and expertise align—this too is a form of inheritance.

One participant shared, ‘I didn’t come to hear about the atomic bomb. But while looking at the Ukrainian night sky, I remembered the sky of Hiroshima that my grandmother spoke about.’ The entry point was the night sky. The exit point was family memories. The circuit connects in unexpected places.

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75 Hours—Designing Time to Connect Hiroshima and Nagasaki Through Prayer

At 8:15 AM on August 6, the moment the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. At 11:02 AM on August 9, the moment the atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. There is a gap of approximately 75 hours between these two moments.

’75 Hours of Prayer’ utilizes this temporal distance, connecting prayers uninterruptedly from the moment of the Hiroshima bombing to that of the Nagasaki bombing. Participants join both online and in person, passing the time of prayer in a relay format. Previous events have reportedly seen participation from around 5,000 people from both domestic and international locations.

I want to draw attention to the design philosophy of this initiative. The number 75 was not symbolically chosen; it is an unchangeable time derived from historical facts—the time difference between the bombings of the two cities. That ‘unchangeability’ gives this prayer a unique gravity. Participants become aware of which moment of the three days in 1945 their prayer corresponds to. Those praying in the early hours of August 7 know that at that moment 80 years ago, Hiroshima was still burning, while Nagasaki was still in the midst of its daily life. By placing themselves within this timeline, ‘past events’ transform into ‘the time currently passing.’

This is the power of structure. Rather than relying on the strength of individual emotions or wills, the very structure of time connects participants’ consciousness to history. Even if someone falls asleep along the way, another person will take over the prayer. The structure compensates for individual limitations, and the continuity of 75 hours gives meaning to the whole. The design of sharing a time that one cannot bear alone as a circuit—this presents another possibility for inheritance.

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Who Does ‘Inheritance’ Benefit?

Let’s line up the three events.

The inscription of Mr. Akira Morishige’s name in the register represents inheritance through the act of ‘recording.’ The research that an individual has accumulated over decades is connected to a public register, creating a circuit that continues to exist even after the individual’s death.

The star projection by the Ukrainian commentator represents inheritance through the ‘intersection of different expertise.’ Rather than in the context of peace education, a universal entry point through stars opens a circuit connecting each listener’s memories.

The 75 Hours of Prayer represents inheritance through ‘sharing the structure of time.’ Without relying on individual emotions, it creates a mechanism where the time inscribed by historical facts becomes a circuit, allowing multiple people to stand within the same timeline.

All of these are responses to the reality that ‘the number of people who can speak about the atomic bombing experience is decreasing.’ However, the ways of responding are not linear. Recording, intersection, time design—though the angles differ, they all point in the same direction.

As we approach the 80th anniversary of the atomic bombing in 2025, Hiroshima City estimates that there are approximately 106,000 holders of atomic bomb survivor health cards, with an average age exceeding 85. The time to hear testimonies directly is undoubtedly shortening. Therefore, it is better to have multiple circuits of inheritance. If one is interrupted, as long as another circuit remains alive, memories will continue to flow.

If we ask, ‘Who does this benefit?’ the answer is this— it benefits generations yet to be born. In a world where there is only one entry point to touch history after the storytellers are gone, those who cannot find that entry will never reach it. The existence of multiple entry points and the web-like nature of circuits themselves will be a salvation for someone in the future.

Names engraved on the register, the Ukrainian stars reflected in the dome, countless hands connecting the 75 hours— the circuits of inheritance are quietly branching out now. A day will come when someone we have yet to meet can reach each of those branches.