With farmed fish, RelationFish swims against the tide in fine dining
By the time he earned his master's degree in agriculture in 2021, his culinary philosophy had undergone a sea change: He pondered about the future of sustainable dining and began exploring using responsibly farmed fish as alternatives to wild-caught ones.
Matsuo says meeting professor Yoshimi Sawada of Osaka's Kindai University in 2020 was also a pivotal moment that encouraged him to adopt his new philosophy. Sawada's research on Japan's seafood sustainability revealed that the country's iconic species, such as shirosake (chum salmon), sanma (Pacific saury), masaba (chub mackerel), hotate (scallops) and surumeika (Japanese flying squid) face alarming declines.
Even more troubling is the impending collapse of basic ingredients like kombu (kelp), with 11 species facing extinction by 2050, threatening the very basis of Japanese cuisine's foundational flavors.
According to Sawada, the current trajectories will fail to achieve the United Nations' Sustainable Development Goal 14, which comprises 10 marine conservation targets to be achieved by 2030. Rapid ocean warming is permanently altering marine ecosystems, triggering cascading effects on global climate systems, food supplies and coastal communities. Without immediate intervention, these changes will soon become irreversible.
Established in 2022 to promote marine conservation and sustainably farmed fish, RelationFish counts notable chefs among its members, such as (top row, from right) Hiroya Tsuji, Hideaki Matsuo and Masaharu Shimamura. |
RELATIONFISH
Matsuo decided to take the initiative, reaching out to like-minded chefs to discuss conservation efforts. What began as casual monthly discussions evolved into the establishment of RelationFish in 2022, a company that aims to tackle Japan's most pressing seafood sustainability crises through coordinated action.
RelationFish's founding members include notable chefs from Osaka like Osamu Ueno of Naniwa Kappo Kigawa, Masaharu Shimamura of Unkaku, and Hiroya Tsuji of Hozenji Asakusa, as well as chef Kenichi Fujiwara of Komago in Hyogo Prefecture, culinary researcher and producer Takako Hirosato and researcher Yukiko Ishida.
As chief operating officer of RelationFish, Matsuo leads innovative aquaculture research with Kindai University, focusing on developing sustainable farming systems for native species. One of Matsuo's projects was breeding aigo (rabbitfish) in a sustainable manner — the first batch of the fish was bred at the university's Aquaculture Research Institute.
While conventional aquaculture relies on fishmeal, RelationFish's cultivated aigo consume waste vegetables and fruits like mikan citrus, creating an environmentally friendly closed-loop system that reduces pressure on marine resources while promoting high-quality farming.
The herbivorous aigo dwells in warm coastal waters. Because of rising ocean temperatures, it is migrating northward and is now being caught in regions where it was previously rare. Those regions may not consume aigo traditionally, resulting in its low market value and frequent waste as an unused species. The fish also causes damage to cultivated nori and wakame (brown seaweed), causing economic losses for coastal fisheries.
RelationFish's cultivated "aigo" (rabbitfish) feed on waste vegetables, removing the need for conventional fishmeal and reducing pressure on marine resources. |
RELATIONFISH
Shimamura, chef-owner of Michelin Green Star-awarded restaurant Unkaku and CEO of RelationFish, says the humble aigo is emblematic of today's urgent marine sustainability challenges.
'This underutilized species (is linked) to critical issues like rising sea temperatures, crop damage, feed challenges and carbon footprint concerns,' he explains. 'By spotlighting aigo, we aim to share information and raise awareness as a symbol of sustainable fishing.'
Shimamura has witnessed disturbing changes in seafood availability firsthand, leading him to make some changes to his menu, such as eliminating yokowa (juvenile tuna) from his kitchen.
'The purse seine nets used to catch yokowa also haul up massive quantities of immature tuna — over 98% haven't reached their spawning age,' he says. 'This practice threatens future tuna populations while delivering inconsistent quality. As chefs, we must consider whether serving certain species today might mean they disappear tomorrow.'
Matsuo himself has had to make tough calls to omit certain traditional ingredients from his menu, too, such as removing unagi (Japanese eel) last year after the International Union for Conservation of Nature placed it on its Red List of Threatened Species. He admits it was a decision that weighed heavily, considering Japan's cherished eel culture. But his stance is clear: 'No eel until stocks rebound or viable full-life cycle farming emerges.'
Tank to table
Sticking to his beliefs, Matsuo is leading a quiet revolution in kaiseki (multicourse Japanese haute cuisine) at Kashiwaya, blending culinary artistry with environmental stewardship to secure Japan's seafood for the future.
Besides championing innovative options like the eco-friendly aigo, Matsuo prioritizes seafood certified by the Aquaculture Stewardship Council and Marine Stewardship Council, choosing fish caught sustainably from the wild and farmed with minimal environmental impact. These choice ingredients, though sometimes costlier, reflect his philosophy that luxury dining must evolve with ecological awareness.
His efforts have helped Kashiwaya clinch a Michelin Green Star in the 2022 edition of the Michelin Guide. He was also honored with the Contemporary Master Craftsman Award by Japan's Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare last November.
Professor Yoshifumi Sawada (left) and chef Hideaki Matsuo feed waste vegetables to their sustainably farmed "aigo" (rabbitfish). |
RELATIONFISH
On World Oceans Day on June 8, Matsuo presented a groundbreaking donabe (Japanese clay pot) rice dish at Kashiwaya.
A seasonal delicacy, isaki (chicken grunt) is a fish from Japan's southern waters — particularly Kyushu — and is revered by chefs for its exquisite balance of flavors: sweet yet delicate, with firm, pearlescent flesh that reveals a striking reddish hue when at its summer peak. Traditionally served salt-grilled, the isaki has transitioned to the sushi counter, earning its place in both classic and contemporary Japanese cuisine.
Matsuo's donabe featured Oseto Isaki, which takes its name from Oseto Suisan Fisheries in Wakayama Prefecture's Oshima Sea, where the fish thrive on a plant-based diet in spacious tanks, eliminating dependence on wild-caught fishmeal. Allowed to grow for five years instead of the typical three, the isaki reach nearly double their standard market size at 1 kilogram, developing superior texture and richer flavor.
For Matsuo, every serving of Oseto Isaki at Kashiwaya is an opportunity to start a dialogue with guests about conscious sourcing.
'When we feature premium, low-impact farmed fish at this level, we create market demand that rewards sustainable fisheries with fair prices, and this will support sustainable fisheries in their drive towards further innovation, leading to even better production methods,' he says.
For World Ocean's Day on June 8, chef Matsuo served a "donabe" (Japanese clay pot) rice dish with farmed Oseto Isaki from Oseto Suisan Fisheries. |
KASHIWAYA
Support like this is vital to farms like Oseto Suisan Fisheries: Because of popular opinion that farmed fish is inferior, they used to conceal their names and methods, but they now proudly showcase their sustainable approaches, a transparency that turns diners into informed advocates for ocean health.
Beyond the horizon
RelationFish is also pioneering land-based aquaculture research in Okayama Prefecture, developing climate-resilient, low-impact techniques to secure future seafood production.
Land-farmed seafood is an option that can polarize chefs. Just ask chef Tsuji of fugu specialty restaurant Hozenji Asakusa. He was initially skeptical of land-farmed fugu and now sources it from Kyushu Prefecture, convinced that the farm's controlled environment produces cleaner livers in the fish versus those found in ocean-farmed ones. This meticulous sourcing is essential, as Hozenji Asakusa builds courses around the puffer fish, a format that necessitates consistent quality.
'There will be natural differences between individual fish, and quality may vary. But unless the product is severely flawed, we do not ask for returns or exchanges,' says Tsuji. 'Rather than rejecting imperfect specimens, we find ways to use (them) by adjusting our cooking method, minimizing the burden on our suppliers.'
When his suppliers have surplus catch that doesn't fit his restaurant's seasonal menu, Tsuji supports them by procuring those ingredients for staff training. This adaptive, sustainable initiative has allowed him to elevate his restaurant's exceptional fugu and hamo (pike conger eel) dishes.
Oseto Suisan Fisheries in Wakayama Prefecture raises "isaki" (chicken grunt) on a plant-based diet, eliminating the need for wild-caught fishmeal. |
RELATIONFISH
Apart from promoting its cause in restaurants, RelationFish has also turned to events to bridge gastronomy and sustainability through education and collaboration, showcasing Osaka-farmed fish at the 2025 Osaka Expo and promoting ingredients from the earthquake-ravaged Noto Peninsula at Osaka's Hug Museum in 2024.
Recognizing the growing environmental consciousness among younger generations, Matsuo is also thinking of using social media platforms like Instagram to engage them with sustainability issues.
Matsuo is now one of Japan's leading advocates of ocean conservation: Kashiwaya, a member of luxury hotel and restaurant group Relais & Chateaux, remains a committed partner in the association's sustainability measures, such as the brand's World Oceans Day campaign. At Kashiwaya, 30% of the seafood is sustainably farmed and the rest is wild-caught.
'Fine dining has long favored wild-caught fish,' says Matsuo, 'but exceptionally farmed seafood can deliver equal quality with far less ecological impact.'
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Japan Times
a day ago
- Japan Times
Last soldiers of Imperial Japanese Army have a warning for younger generations
Kunshiro Kiyozumi is a small man with gray hair and a stooped back who lives alone and still pedals his bicycle to the supermarket. At 97, he cuts an unprepossessing figure to the younger shoppers busy texting while filling their carts, unaware that his life contains a dramatic story shaped by history's deadliest war. At age 15, Kiyozumi became the youngest sailor aboard the I-58, an attack submarine of the Imperial Japanese navy. In the closing days of World War II, it prowled the Pacific Ocean, torpedoing six Allied ships, including the heavy cruiser USS Indianapolis, which it sank. He served in a military that committed atrocities in a march across Asia, as Japan fought in a brutal global conflict that was brought to an end with the atomic bombings of two of its cities. All told, World War II killed at least 60 million people worldwide. But the living veterans such as Kiyozumi were not the admirals or generals who directed Japan's imperial plans. They were young sailors and foot soldiers in a war that was not of their making. Most were still in their midteens when they were sent to far-flung battlefields from India to the South Pacific, where some were abandoned in jungles to starve or left bearing dark secrets when the empire fell. A photograph of Kenichi Ozaki when he enlisted in the Imperial Japanese Army at age 15 during World War II, at his home in Kyoto, on April 27. | Ko Sasaki / The New York Times After Japan surrendered on Aug. 15, 1945, they returned to a defeated nation that showed little interest in their sacrifices, eager to put aside both painful memories and uncomfortable questions about its wartime aggression. Kiyozumi lived a quiet life, working at a utility company installing the electrical wires that helped power Japan's reconstruction. Over time, his former crewmates died, but he rarely spoke about his wartime experiences. "I am the last one left,' Kiyozumi said in his home, showing fading photographs of the sub and himself as a young sailor. As the 80th anniversary of the war's end approaches, the number of veterans still alive is rapidly dwindling. There were only 792 Japanese war veterans still collecting government pensions as of March, half the number of a year earlier. Now in their upper 90s and 100s, they will take with them the last living memories of horrors and ordeals, but also of bravery and sacrifice — powerful accounts that hold extra meaning now, as Japan builds up its military after decades of pacifism. Here are some of their stories. Starved in the jungle Kenichi Ozaki was 15 when he enlisted in 1943, as most young men were expected to do as the tide of war turned against Japan. Told that it was a righteous cause, he joined the Imperial Japanese Army out of middle school in rural western Japan over his parents' objections. Less than halfway through his training to become a radio operator, Ozaki was rushed to the Philippines, where the Americans had arrived to try to reclaim their former colony from the Japanese. Poorly equipped and ill-prepared, the Japanese force was quickly routed. Ozaki, 97, who, after joining the Imperial Japanese Army out of middle school, was deployed to the Philippines, where he stayed until the end of World War II, at his home computer, on which he now does day trading, in Kyoto on April 27. | Ko Sasaki / The New York Times The demoralized survivors fled into the jungle, where they wandered for months. Ozaki watched those around him fall from attacks by Philippine guerrillas or starvation. While he survived on leaves and stolen crops, Ozaki saw soldiers eat what appeared to be the bodies of dead comrades. After the war, he returned to Japan, where he made a career at a company making electrical parts, rising to executive. For a half-century, he didn't speak of the war. He broke his silence when he realized how few people knew what his fallen comrades had endured. Now 97, Ozaki still dreams of those left behind, told they were dying for the glory of the empire, but sent into combat with no hope of victory. "In their last breaths, no one shouted for the long life of the emperor,' said Ozaki, who lives in Kyoto with his son, also retired. "They called out for their mothers, whom they would never see again.' Kept a dark secret For more than 70 years, Hideo Shimizu kept silent about the horrors that he experienced. Born in the village of Miyata in mountainous central Japan, he didn't know much about the war when he was forced to enlist in a youth brigade in 1945 at the age of 14. Because he was dexterous, a teacher recommended him for a special assignment. Hideo Shimizu, 95, who was part of the secretive Unit 731 developing new weapons for the Imperial Japanese Army, which he was told never to speak about after World War II, at his home in Miyata, Japan, May 15 | Ko Sasaki / The New York Times After days of travel by ship and train, Shimizu arrived in Harbin in Japanese-controlled Manchuria, where he learned he would be joining Unit 731, a secretive group developing new weapons. At first, Shimizu dissected rats. Then, he was taken to see the unit's real experiments. He never forgot the sight: Chinese civilians and captured Allied soldiers preserved in formaldehyde, their bodies flayed open or cut into pieces. They had been infected with bacteria and dissected alive to see the effects on living tissue. When the war ended, his unit escaped the advancing Soviets by rushing back to Japan, where he was told never to speak again about their work. Despite constant nightmares, Shimizu obeyed as he started a new life running a small construction company. In 2015, he accompanied a relative to a museum where a photograph of Unit 731's base was displayed. When he started explaining the buildings in detail, the museum's curator happened to overhear and persuaded him to speak in public. Now 95, Shimizu tries to combat the denials proliferating online about atrocities committed by Unit 731. "Only the very youngest of us are left,' Shimizu said. "When we are gone, will people forget the terrible things that happened?' Marched into a trap Sitting in the living room of his wooden home in the rice-growing village of Osonogo in mountainous Niigata Prefecture, Tetsuo Sato, 105, still seethes with anger over a battle fought long ago. After growing up as one of 12 children who didn't always have enough to eat, Sato left this village in 1940 to join the army. He ended up in Japanese-occupied Burma (now Myanmar) just as Japan was planning an offensive against the city of Imphal, across a mountain range in British-ruled India. Tetsuo Sato, 105, who belonged to the 58th Infantry Regiment of the 31st Division of the Imperial Japanese Army in World War II, outside his home with his daughter-in-law, Kuniko Sato, and his dog in Osonogo, a village in Niigata Prefecture, on June 10. | Ko Sasaki / The New York Times Proclaiming that their soldiers' fighting spirit would prevail, the Japanese generals sent them without adequate weapons or supply lines, ordering them never to retreat. At first, the enemy troops appeared to flee, but it was a trap. When the British surrounded them, Sato escaped only because his commander disobeyed the orders and pulled back. Even then, many died from starvation and disease as they fled back to Burma. "They wasted our lives like pieces of scrap paper,' Sato said. "Never die for emperor or country.' Enlisted at 14 Tadanori Suzuki was also keen to help his country when he enlisted in the Imperial Japanese Navy at age 14. He regretted it right away when the officers regularly struck the new recruits. The beatings stopped only when he was sent to the tropical island of Sulawesi, now in Indonesia, which the Japanese had seized from the Dutch. Tadanori Suzuki, 96, who enlisted in the Imperial Japanese Navy at age 14 during World War II and was deployed to what is now Indonesia, holds a photograph of himself at age 16 before his deployment, at his home in Tokyo on April 17. | Ko Sasaki / The New York Times There, he trained on a small torpedo boat, spending sleepy weeks in the heat and tasting bananas for the first time. The idyll ended when a U.S. destroyer was spotted. His boat was one of eight sent to intercept it. As they sped toward the gray enemy vessel, Suzuki heard the "bam-bam-bam' of its guns. When he pulled a lever to launch a torpedo, he saw a pillar of flame rise from the U.S. ship. "A hit! A hit!' he yelled. But three of the Japanese boats never returned. Lacking fuel and ammunition, his squadron never forayed out again. Captured at the war's end, it took him six months to get home. When he knocked on his door, his mother burst into tears. "I thought you were dead,' she said, then prepared him a bath. After retiring from his job as a carpenter, he started speaking to elementary schools near his home in Tokyo, warning them that there is no romanticism in war. "I tell the younger generations, 'A long time ago, we did something really stupid,'' says Suzuki, 96. "Don't go to war. Stay home with your parents and families.' Fought for the empire One sunny April day, Masao Go, 97, was at a Buddhist temple near his home in Yokohama to watch the placement of a stone with calligraphy etched into its face: "Taiwan our fatherland, Japan our motherland.' Go was born in Taiwan when it was a Japanese colony. His parents sent him to school in Tokyo, where he learned to be a proud citizen of the Japanese empire. In 1944, he joined the Imperial Japanese Army, eager to fight for a cause that he embraced as his own. Trained as a radio operator on a bomber, he was assigned to an air base in Japanese-occupied Korea. His unit was told to prepare for a final attack against U.S. forces on Okinawa, but Japan surrendered before the order came. Captured by Soviet troops, he was sent to a prison camp in Kazakhstan. By the time of his release two years later, Taiwan was part of China. Go went instead to Japan, where he became a banker in Yokohama's vibrant Chinatown. After hiding his military service for years, he now talks about it, concerned that Japan and Taiwan face a new threat, this time from China seeking to expand its dominance in Asia. He erected the stone, which honors the 30,000 Taiwanese who died fighting for Japan in World War II, to remind Japan of its connection to Taiwan, now a self-governing island that China vows to reclaim by force. "A threat to Taiwan is a threat to Japan,' Go said. "We are bound by history.' Forgotten by his nation Kiyozumi, the youngest sailor aboard the I-58, still vividly remembers the day in July 1945 when the I-58's lookouts spotted an approaching U.S. warship. The submarine dived to fire its torpedoes. The captain watched through the periscope as the enemy vessel capsized and sank. Kiyozumi at a restaurant in Matsuyama, Japan, on April 29 | Ko Sasaki / The New York Times Years later, Kiyozumi learned that their target had been the USS Indianapolis, which had just delivered parts of the atomic bombs to the island of Tinian for use against Japanese cities to end the war. Of the U.S. ship's 1,200 sailors, only 300 survived. "It was war,' Kiyozumi said, expressing sorrow but not regret. "We killed hundreds of theirs, but they had just transported the atomic bomb.' Although Kiyozumi once corresponded with a survivor of the U.S. warship, he feels forgotten and alone. His wife died three decades ago; his best friend on the I-58 died in 2020. No one in his town asks about the war. "Young people don't know what we went through,' he said. "They are more interested in their smartphones.' This article originally appeared in The New York Times © 2025 The New York Times Company
Japan Times
a day ago
- Japan Times
'Absolute madness': Thailand's pet lion problem
Behind a car repair business on a nondescript Thai street are the cherished pets of a rising TikTok animal influencer: two lions and a 200-kilogram lion-tiger hybrid called "Big George." Lion ownership is legal in Thailand, and Tharnuwarht Plengkemratch is an enthusiastic advocate, posting updates on his feline companions to nearly 3 million followers. "They're playful and affectionate, just like dogs or cats," he said from inside their cage complex at his home in the northern city of Chiang Mai. Thailand's captive lion population has exploded in recent years, with nearly 500 registered in zoos, breeding farms, petting cafes and homes. Experts warn the trend endangers animals and humans, stretches authorities and likely fuels illicit trade domestically and abroad. "It's absolute madness," said Tom Taylor, chief operating officer of conservation group Wildlife Friends Foundation Thailand. "It's terrifying to imagine, if the laws aren't changed, what the situation is going to be in 10 years." The boom is fueled by social media, through which owners such as Tharnuwarht post lighthearted content and glamor shots with lions. "I wanted to show people ... that lions can actually bond well with humans," he said, insisting he plays regularly with his pets. He entered Big George's enclosure tentatively though, spending just a few minutes being batted by the tawny striped liger's hefty paws before retreating behind a fence. Since 2022, Thai law has required owners to register and microchip lions, and inform authorities before moving them. Mechanic shop owner and avid TikToker Tharnuwarht Plengkemratch plays with his pet lion-tiger hybrid 'Big George' in Chiang Mai, Thailand, on July 11. | AFP-JIJI But there are no breeding caps, few enclosure or welfare requirements, and no controls on liger or tigon hybrids. Births of protected native species such as tigers must be reported within 24 hours. Lion owners have 60 days. "That is a huge window," said Taylor. "What could be done with a litter of cubs in those 60 days? Anything." Illicit trade Taylor and his colleagues have tracked the rise in lion ownership with on-site visits and by trawling social media. They recorded around 130 in 2018, and nearly 450 by 2024. But nearly 350 more lions they encountered were "lost to follow-up" after their whereabouts could not be confirmed for a year. That could indicate unreported deaths, an animal removed from display or "worst-case scenarios," said Taylor. "We have interviewed traders (in the region) who have given us prices for live and dead lions and have told us they can take them over the border." As a vulnerable species, lions and their parts can only be sold internationally with what are known as CITES permits. But there is circumstantial evidence of illicit trade, several experts said on condition of anonymity to avoid angering authorities. Media reports and social media have documented lions, including cubs, in Cambodia multiple times in recent years, though the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) shows no registered imports since 2003. Tharnuwarht looks at one of his pet lions, which underwent taxidermy after its death a few years ago, in Chiang Mai, on July 11. | AFP-JIJI There is also growing evidence that captive lion numbers in Laos exceed CITES import licenses. In Thailand, meanwhile, imports of lion parts such as bones, skins and teeth have dropped in recent years, though demand remains, raising questions about how parts are now being sourced. Thai trader Pathamawadee Janpithak started in the crocodile business, but pivoted to lions as prices for the reptiles declined. "It gradually became a full-fledged business that I couldn't step away from," the gregarious 32-year-old said in front of a row of caged cubs. She sells 1-month-olds for around 500,000 baht ($15,500), down from a peak of 800,000 baht as breeding operations such as hers increase supply. Captive lions are generally fed around two kilograms of chicken carcasses a day, and can produce litters of two to six cubs, once or twice a year. Pathamawadee's three facilities house around 80 lions, from a stately full-maned 9-year-old to a sickly pair of 8-day-olds being bottle-fed around the clock. They are white because of a genetic mutation, and the smaller pool of white lions means inbreeding and sickness are common. Sometimes wrongly considered a "threatened" subspecies, they are popular in Thailand, but a month-old white cub being reared alongside the newborns has been sick almost since birth. It has attracted no buyers so far and will be unbreedable, Pathamawadee said. She lamented the increasing difficulty of finding buyers willing to comply with ownership rules. "In the past, people could just put down money and walk away with a lion ... Everything has become more complicated." Legal review Pathamawadee sells around half of the 90 cubs she breeds each year, often to other breeders, who are increasingly opening "lion cafes" where customers pose with and pet young lions. Outside Chiang Mai, a handler roused a cub from a nap to play with a group of squealing Chinese tourists. Staff allowed the filming of the interaction, but like all lion cafes contacted, declined interviews. Pathamawadee no longer sells to cafes, which tend to offload cubs within weeks as they grow. She said several were returned to her traumatized and no longer suitable for breeding. A man plays with a lion cub at a cafe in Chiang Mai. Thailand's captive lion population has exploded in recent years, with nearly 500 registered individuals in zoos, breeding farms, petting cafes and homes. | AFP-JIJI The growing lion population is a problem for Thailand's Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP), admitted wildlife protection director Sadudee Punpugdee. "But private ownership has existed for a long time ... so we're taking a gradual approach," he said. That includes limiting lion imports so breeders are forced to rely on the domestic population. "With inbreeding on the rise, the quality of the lions is also declining and we believe that demand will decrease as a result," Sadudee said. Already-stretched authorities face difficult choices on enforcing regulations, as confiscated animals become their responsibility, said Penthai Siriwat, an illegal wildlife trade specialist at WWF Thailand. "There is a great deal of deliberation before intervening ... considering the substantial costs," she said. Owners such as Tharnuwarht often evoke conservation to justify their pets, but Thailand's captive lions will never live in the wild. Two-year-olds Khanom and Khanun live in a DNP sanctuary after being confiscated from a cafe and private owner over improper paperwork. They could survive another decade or more, and require specialized keepers, food and care. Sanctuary chief vet Natanon Panpeth treads carefully while discussing the lion trade, warning only that the "well-being of the animals should always come first." Big cat ownership has been banned in the United States and United Arab Emirates in recent years, and Thailand's wildlife rules are soon up for review. Sadudee is hopeful some provisions may be tightened, though a ban is unlikely for now. He has his own advice for would-be owners: "Wild animals belong in the wild. There are plenty of other animals we can keep as pets."
Japan Times
a day ago
- Japan Times
Details of Prince Hisahito's coming-of-age ceremony announced
The Imperial Household Agency on Tuesday announced the details of the coming-of-age ceremony for Prince Hisahito, son of Crown Prince Akishino and Crown Princess Kiko, on Sept. 6, his 19th birthday. It will be the first coming-of-age ceremony for a male imperial family member in 40 years, since that of Crown Prince Akishino. Prince Hisahito is second in line to the throne, after his father. During the ceremony, to be hosted by Crown Prince Akishino and Crown Princess Kiko, Prince Hisahito will receive a crown from Emperor Naruhito's messenger at the Crown Prince's residence at 8:45 a.m. on Sept. 6. Prince Hisahito will then attend the Kakan-no-Gi crown-wearing ritual at the Imperial Palace from 10 a.m., wearing traditional attire for a minor imperial family member. Prince Hisahito will then change into adult attire and move to the palace's three sanctuaries in a ceremonial carriage, where he will offer prayers. In the afternoon, he is scheduled to greet Emperor Naruhito and Empress Masako at the Matsu-no-Ma state room at the palace in a ritual known as Choken no Gi and then visit his grandparents, Emperor Emeritus Akihito and Empress Emerita Michiko, at their residence in Minato Ward. The Cabinet decided Tuesday to grant the Grand Cordon of the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum to Prince Hisahito. He will be awarded the medal from Emperor Naruhito on the day of the coming-of-age ceremony. On Sept. 8, Prince Hisahito will visit Ise Jingu, a major Shinto shrine in the city of Ise in Mie Prefecture, and the mausoleum of Emperor Jinmu, the mythical first emperor, in the city of Kashihara in neighboring Nara Prefecture. Prince Hisahito will visit the mausoleum of Emperor Hirohito, his great-grandfather, in Hachioji, Tokyo, on Sept. 9. A celebratory luncheon will be held in Tokyo on Sept. 10, with participants including the prime minister and other dignitaries.
