When the sculptural work Future Memory Tricycle, modeled after the “Shin-chan’s Tricycle” exhibited at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, was permanently installed at the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Museum in Geneva, the Future Memory team finally met the now-elderly family of little Shin-chan for the first time.

I had long known the story: that the tricycle of three-year-old Shin-chan, who perished in the atomic bombing, had been buried in the backyard together with his small body, and that forty years later, in 1985, it was unearthed and donated to the Peace Memorial Museum. Yet until that day, the family had never spoken publicly about the circumstances surrounding it.

After Shin-chan’s death—his body covered in terrible burns—his parents could not bring themselves to cremate him. They dug deeper into an air-raid shelter pit and buried him together with his tricycle. For the grieving parents, it was perhaps an act of love: a wish that their little boy could go on playing forever. Among the ashes of Hiroshima’s ruins, the father found a small stone Jizō statue whose face reminded him of Shin-chan. He placed it in the backyard and prayed before it every morning and evening. Yet he never spoke of his lost child to the sons born after the war. The depth of that silent grief could only be imagined from the sight of his back as he prayed.

Four decades later, the sons—having grown up watching their parents’ quiet devotion—decided it was time. “You have prayed long enough,” they said. “Let’s bring Shin-chan properly to his grave.” A priest who attended told them, “After forty years, there may be no bones left. If you find something white in the soil, gather it gently as his remains.” As they carefully dug, small white bones began to emerge. Then, a rusted army helmet appeared. Their father had placed it over his son’s face so that no dirt would touch it. When he lifted the helmet, inside was a small, pure white skull. Beneath it, tree roots had grown—cradling it like a pillow.

The father whispered, “Stop digging. Let’s pray.”
 In that moment, he heard his son’s voice:
 “Daddy, you’ve grown old.”
It was the first time he had ever spoken about his lost child.
After forty long years of silence, Shin-chan had finally come home.

This family’s story remained untold—locked in silence for another thirty-nine years—until they stood before the reborn bronze tricycle and began to speak. The story that had remained untold was entrusted to us.What message does it carry? “Future Memory” has long sought to express loss—of life, of form—by transforming memory into art. Now, a new mission has emerged: to reveal what was not lost, to give form to that which endures within the human spirit, no matter what is taken away.