A heartbreaking event—the theft of bonsai from the Hoshun-in Bonsai Garden at Daitoku-ji Temple in Kyoto.

In response to the blog post where I shared this painful experience, I received countless messages of sympathy and encouragement—not only from within Japan, but from all around the world. 

I want to express my deepest gratitude. 

At a time when it felt as though time itself had stopped, the warmth of your support brought me immense comfort. I cannot thank you enough.

I first received the news while in Saitama, on the day before an important exhibition in Tokyo—the Genkō-kai, held once a year for our long-standing customers. The schedule was packed: setup, greeting visitors, taking down the display… And as if fate had conspired, the very next day was a pre-shoot for the upcoming Osaka EXPO 2025 Bonsai & Suiseki Exhibition. 

It wasn’t until the fourth day that I was finally able to return to Daitoku-ji in Kyoto.

At the Hoshun-in garden, where many famous trees are gathered, and international visitors come daily, replacement trees had been temporarily placed to maintain the appearance. 

From Hanyu, I brought back trees truly worthy of this garden, restoring it to the state it deserves—welcoming guests as if nothing had happened.

With the cooperation of the Kyoto Prefectural Police, and the humbling efforts of those in the bonsai community sharing information and helping in the search, we have conveyed to the authorities our belief—shared among professionals—that this may very well be the work of an overseas criminal group.

It is likely that the stolen trees are still hidden somewhere in the mountains of Kyoto, or in an abandoned home, while the perpetrators try to arrange a way to sell them abroad.

Bonsai live through water in their pots, and through light and air. In this season, without water for three days, they begin to weaken. 

Within a week, the heartbeat of these trees—fighting desperately to live—may stop.

If they are hidden in the mountains, all I can do is pray for rain… and for them to survive, here and now.

As someone who has lived over half a century with a love for bonsai, I cannot comprehend the mindset of those who would treat them as mere tools for money. 

At the garden’s private Buddha hall, I put my hands together and prayed:

"Please let them come home. And if that cannot be, may they at least live peacefully, wherever they may be."

As we bid farewell to the cherry blossoms and welcome the season of fresh greenery, I never imagined I would be writing such a post.

In the early hours of April 17, ten bonsai were stolen from the *Hoshun-in Bonsai Garden* at Daitoku-ji Temple in Kyoto.

Although we had taken reasonable precautions for security, the thieves managed to scale a tall wall on the south and west sides of the garden—walls that belong to Sōken-in Temple, the resting place of Oda Nobunaga. 

It appears they placed a ladder against the wall, crossed over 70 meters through the temple graveyard, and carried the trees over another wall on the opposite side.

Among the stolen bonsai, two were of particular importance. 

They had been exhibited at the World Bonsai Convention and the Kokufu-ten, and were deeply cherished by the Reverend Monk of Hoshun-in. 

These trees were, in many ways, symbolic of the entire garden.

Another was a juniper created by my late apprentice, Mr. Kumagai, who lost his life in the Great Tsunami of Tohoku in 2011. 

The tree had once left my hands, but by a twist of fate, I was able to buy it back. 

Since then, I had vowed never to let it go again, placing it in the garden as if laying it to rest.

On the morning of the 17th, I was stunned when the garden’s dedicated caretaker reported, 

“Some of the trees are missing.” 

From that moment, we did everything possible—calling the police for investigation and forensics, notifying the bonsai community’s theft alert network, and more.

Many friends believed this to be the work of an overseas group, as similar incidents have occurred in recent years. 

To steal from a sacred Buddhist site, inaccessible from any public road, by crossing a vast graveyard—such a crime is beyond the imagination of any bonsai practitioner.

From what we’ve heard about past thefts, the trees are often hidden somewhere nearby for a few days, then shipped overseas through underground networks. 

More than anger, I was overwhelmed with fear for the trees themselves. 

Where are they now? 

Are they being watered? 

It felt as if a small child had been abducted.

All I can do is pray for a miracle, for someone to come forward with information.

In all my years devoted to bonsai, I have never been so devastated.

To all bonsai lovers around the world, I humbly ask: **Please do not buy these trees.**

I believe those who truly love bonsai—living beings imbued with spirit—are people of integrity, 

capable of understanding the deep sorrow this has caused.