Nana Ninomiya 【DELUXE】
But his greatest contribution was philosophical. In his later years, Ninomiya synthesized his experiences into a system called Hotoku (報徳)—the "Way of Repaying Virtue." He argued that individuals and communities could prosper by integrating three fundamental activities: work (勤労), thrift (節倹), and altruism (推譲). He famously rejected pure charity, believing that handouts weakened the spirit. Instead, he advocated for sukui (help) that required reciprocal effort. This is why his statues are never of a passive scholar, but of an active worker who reads—a symbol of synthesis, not escape. So how did Sontoku Ninomiya become Nana Ninomiya? The answer lies in the Meiji Restoration (1868). The new imperial government needed to forge a modern, unified national identity. They looked to historical figures who embodied loyalty, diligence, and self-improvement. Ninomiya Sontoku was perfect.
There is also the environmental reinterpretation. The rapeseed plant, central to the folk story, is now seen as a symbol of circular economy—seed to oil to light to compost back to seed. In this reading, Nana Ninomiya is not a workaholic but a proto-ecologist, modeling a life of zero waste and deep harmony with the seasons. Visit Odawara City on November 17th, and you will witness the Ninomiya-sai festival. Children dress in Edo-period farm clothes, carrying miniature bundles of firewood and reading aloud from The Analects or modern picture books. They compete in Hotoku essay contests, writing about how they apply thrift and hard work to their own lives—saving pocket money for a family trip, helping a neighbor with groceries, or studying for exams without cram school.
The most famous folktale associated with Nana Ninomiya involves the “Reading While Walking” episode. According to the legend, Nana was so poor that he could not afford candles. He devised a plan: he would plant rapeseed around the edges of his fields. When the plants grew, he would harvest the seeds, press them for oil, and use that oil to light his study lamp at night. But even that was not enough. He then trained himself to read while walking to the fields, tying his firewood into a shoi (backload) and holding his book in front of his eyes. One day, a passing samurai was so impressed by the boy’s devotion that he gave him a stipend for books. Another version tells of a wealthy merchant who, seeing Nana’s footpath worn deep by his relentless walking, adopted him as a protégé. nana ninomiya
These statues were mass-produced from the 1890s to the 1940s as part of the Imperial Rescript on Education’s drive. By 1945, over 80% of public elementary schools in Japan had one. They were placed at entrances or in courtyards, so that every child would walk past this image of disciplined multitasking every single day. The statue was not a monument to be worshipped; it was a mirror to be internalized.
At the age of 16, Kinjiro found himself as the sole provider for his ailing mother and younger siblings. To survive, he worked the fields during the day and wove sandals at night. Yet, even amidst this crushing labor, Kinjiro harbored an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. There was no time for formal schooling, but there was the night. He famously studied by the light of andon (oil lamps) and later, to save oil, by the light of the embers of a cooking fire. The most iconic legend—the one that would become the statue—claims he read while walking to and from the fields, strapping bundles of firewood to his back to maximize every spare second. But his greatest contribution was philosophical
The Ministry of Education adopted his story for elementary school moral textbooks ( Shushin ). But there was a problem: the name “Sontoku” was difficult for young children to pronounce. Teachers and textbook authors began to soften the name. “Kinjiro” (his childhood name) was too familiar. Through a process of linguistic mutation common in oral tradition, “Ninomiya-san” became “Nana-san,” and eventually “Nana Ninomiya.” In many regions of Japan, particularly Tohoku and Kanto, the folk memory of “Nana-san” became more powerful than the historical “Sontoku.”
The firewood on his back is heavy. The book in his hands is open. And he keeps walking. Perhaps that is the true meaning of Nana Ninomiya—not perfection, but persistence. Not genius, but grit. Not the destination, but the deliberate, virtuous step. “If you have only a single grain of rice, plant it. If you have only a single minute, read. Virtue grows not from waiting, but from walking.” — Attributed to Nana Ninomiya (folk saying) Instead, he advocated for sukui (help) that required
His brilliance did not go unnoticed. A local magistrate, Suzuki Shigeyoshi, recognized the boy’s potential and hired him as an assistant. Kinjiro’s ability to solve complex administrative problems, from irrigation disputes to tax collection, stunned his elders. By his early twenties, he had restored his family’s fortune and began working as a land reclamation specialist for the Tokugawa shogunate. He revived hundreds of villages, built flood controls, and established mutual aid societies.
In the vast tapestry of Japanese folklore and moral education, few figures stand as tall—or as quietly—as Kinjiro Ninomiya, famously known as “Nana Ninomiya.” While the name might evoke a feminine nuance to modern ears (“Nana” being a common female name today), the historical and cultural weight of this figure is unmistakably masculine, representing the archetypal diligent student, the filial son, and the self-made sage. For over a century, the statue of a young boy reading a book while carrying a load of firewood on his back has stood in front of schools across Japan, silently teaching generations the value of perseverance, frugality, and lifelong learning.