October 31, 2019.

Shuri Castle in Okinawa was hit by a massive fire.

The symbol of a kingdom that thrived for 450 years, reduced to cinders.

It was always there for us.

For all of us.

The heart of Okinawa.

It's where we were born...
and where we live.

The Ryukyu Kingdom flourished between the 15th and 19th centuries.

At its heart, Shuri Castle was the center of politics and culture.

The Kingdom was known for the exquisite beauty of its dyed and woven textiles.

In a land blessed by nature, people spun thread and wove cloth.

And the tradition is alive even today.

Often threatened of disappearance by the harsh trials of history, every time, these treasured crafts were brought back to life.

However, one type of cloth remains an enigma.

It is known as "ton-byan."

Wow. This is amazing.

A slightly translucent fabric with a pale blue sheen.

This is a story of the people fascinated by this elusive cloth, and their attempts at unraveling its mysteries.

The subtropical island of Okinawa...

...a place brimming with life and color.

Under the Ryukyu Kingdom's rule, unique textiles developed around Shuri Castle in the capital.

One woman in Tokyo has long been fascinated by this culture.

Sudo Reiko, a world-renowned textile designer.

In a 2018 exhibition, she made a huge impact with an installation of fish-like streamers that breathed new life into traditional fabric-making techniques.

She holds a special interest in textiles born from Japanese craftsmanship.

Her shop offers innovative fabrics she created in collaboration with craftspeople from around the country.

This scarf is a popular item at the MOMA Design Store in New York.

She made it to help preserve the techniques involved in traditional Japanese kimono.

For Sudo, textiles are a reflection of people's lives.

Through her books, she takes a fresh new look at Japanese dyed and woven fabrics and introduces their appeal.

She is particularly interested in those from Okinawa, which use advanced techniques to create intricate patterns.

This September, Sudo visited Okinawa.

It was right after the official state of emergency was lifted in the prefecture.

As the pandemic rages across the world,
bringing about change...

I began to wonder what it is
that doesn't change.

These troubled times made me want to
revisit Okinawa and its textiles.

They're rooted in court culture.

So there's a sort of elegance to them.

That's what I find really attractive.

It's her first visit in four years.

There was a place she wanted to see at the beginning of her trip: Shuri Castle.

Hello.

The once resplendent symbol of Okinawa's history has become unrecognizable.

I can't imagine how hard it must be...

for the people of Okinawa
to lose their treasure.

It was their symbol.

I just hope it can be restored
as soon as possible.

Okinawa was once known as the Ryukyu Kingdom.

Under the Ryukyu dynasty, the islands flourished for 450 years.

The kingdom prospered as a trade hub between China, Japan, the Korean Peninsula and other Asian countries.

This bell was cast by order of the king in 1458.

Inscribed on it are words that refer to Ryukyu as "a crossroad connecting the world."

The archipelago was a meeting point for several cultures.

There, a broad variety of unique textiles developed.

Workshops opened throughout the kingdom to create garments for the royal family and nobility.

Sudo visits a workshop that creates "bingata," a type of stencil dyeing.

- Good morning.
- Come in.

Shiroma Eiichi is the successor to the Shiroma "bingata" workshop, which has been around for 16 generations and was one on the major names in "bingata" dyeing during the Ryukyu era.

The word "bingata" means color and pattern.

It is said to have originated in the 15th century, when stencil techniques and other methods from all around Asia met in Ryukyu.

- This is clearly a Japanese pattern.
- Yes.

- We don't have these cherry blossoms here.
- Indeed.

Old patterns are mostly Japanese or Chinese.

I guess "bingata" gradually incorporated
these cultural influences.

The five basic colors.

The black is made from mixing red, blue, and yellow.

Two brushes are used: one to apply the color, and another to rub in the pigment to create a gradation.

This light and shade effect adds a sense of depth.

The larger "bingata" patterns were a luxury forbidden outside nobility and royalty.

"Bingata" was a valuable trade item that brought fortune to the Kingdom.

We've been operating since the Ryukyu era,
but 75 years ago, there was the war.

My grandfather, Eiki, was 38 at the time.

He used these tools.

They're from that time?

Yes. We still use them.

These are bullet casings.

- Real bullets?
- Yes, actual bullets.

The nozzles of this glue bag used for dyeing are cartridges from the US military.

The tools were made by Eiichi's grandfather, Eiki.

Ironically, after artisans in Okinawa lost everything in the war, they used objects discarded by their former enemy to help revive their craft.

Toward the end of World War Two, Okinawa was the theater of fierce ground battles.

The strongest above-ground fortification on Okinawa was Shuri Castle.

...withstood over 25 direct hits from our naval gunfire.

A 120 acres of village and barracks installations, which was totally destroyed.

This is footage of Shuri taken from an American bomber.

The castle came under artillery fire.

The people's "symbol of hope" was burnt to the ground.

This stencil was made by Eiki shortly after the war, using a map from the Japanese military.

He found the map in an underground bunker at Shuri Castle.

A top-secret wartime artifact had turned into a tool for the revival of "bingata."

This is a stencil.

Here is another of Eiki's stencils handed down in the Shiroma family depicting Shuri Castle.

I think it was made about
10 years after the war.

At the time, there was a local movement
to restore the landscape.

It represents the city of Shuri
on the path of reconstruction.

Eiichi's father, Eijun, used the stencil to dye this fabric.

The memory of Shuri Castle, shared between two generations.

Our ancestors left us this wonderful craft.

We had to revive it in some way.

That was all I had in mind.

Eiki passed away in 1992, the year Shuri Castle was rebuilt.

His wish to see the castle once again was never fulfilled.

In 2019, the castle was destroyed in another fire.

Amid the shock, Eiichi recalled a Ryukyu poem written by his grandfather.

'Dear child
Standing in the darkest night' 'Wait a while
I shall chase the storm away'

The child refers to Okinawa, his home,
standing frightened in the dark.

He's encouraging it, saying he will
cast away the storm.

After the war, my grandfather devoted
himself entirely to "bingata."

I think at one point, he made up his mind.
He decided to live for "bingata."

Dear child
Standing in the darkest night
Wait a while
I shall chase the storm away There was the 2019 fire, and then around
February this year, the pandemic.

The whole island turned quiet.
It was dreadful.

I felt that a simple return to our roots
would not be enough.

We have to reexamine ourselves.

How can I say it...?

I felt like I was being told:
‘Now it's your turn to pass on the torch.' You know, it's been 36 years since
I started to make fabric.

But I seriously started to consider
whether I should quit.

Around April or May.

The factories have stopped.
Some open for only two days a week.

But when I talk with the workers,
I feel motivated to create again.

Your story too has given me
the strength to go on.

Thank you for sharing it.

The dye for "bingata" is from the "fukugi" tree.
Eiki planted these in the ruins after the war.

75 years later, the trees have grown.

But the dye only comes from
100-year-old trees.

In them, I saw Eiki's message to keep
looking forward, no matter the hardships.

The town of Haebaru is about 5 kilometers south of Shuri Castle.

After the war, many craftsmen of a technique called "kasuri" gathered here and it became a major production area.

In Okinawa "kasuri," weavers create
numerous patterns...

with slight changes in movement.

There's this nuance in the techniques
that makes it different...

from the "kasuri" of other regions.

Sudo visited one of the town's well-known "kasuri" workshops.

Hello.

"Kasuri" was introduced from Southeast Asia around the 14th century and underwent unique developments in the kingdom.

The color is Ryukyu indigo, a natural dye the island is famous for.

Ryukyu "kasuri" is characterized by its gentle yet orderly patterns.

Patterns can be divided into four groups based on the inspiration for their design: nature, animals and plants, daily items, and the human body.

More than 600 patterns exist.

"Kasuri" was an important export item for the Ryukyu Kingdom, which set down specific rules on colors and patterns, and strictly controlled its production.

Wow, this is amazing!

This pattern is inspired by the shape of a carpenter's square.

Today, modern designs are created based on Ryukyu-era patterns.

Ohshiro Kazuo is a "kasuri" craftsman.

He shows her some precious kimonos.

They were collected by his father, Koshiro.

- Were they for research?
- Yes.

Oshiro Koshiro was a craftsman who dedicated himself to restoring Ryukyu "kasuri" after the war.

Almost every day, he would visit a textile market and collect pre-war kimono to bring back "kasuri," which had been lost in the war.

What is this?

It's said to be "ton-byan."

I've heard about it, and I've seen some
examples behind glass at exhibitions.

But never so closely.

The collection included "ton-byan," known as "the lost cloth."

- Here's another one.
- You have more?

It's so beautiful, I can't help but touch it.
It's shimmering.

It's more than 100 years old.

The sheen is amazing.

It was the first time I touched "ton-byan."

The crisp texture and the luster
of the threads captured my heart.

However, Oshiro says that no one
weaves this cloth today.

Why was the technique lost?
All the other textiles were revived.

I think there are too many things
we don't know.

We can tell it's a plant fiber,
but the kind of plant is srill unclear.

When did "ton-byan" come to exist in Okinawa?

The name "ton-byan" first appears in Okinawa-related documents in the mid-18th century.

This manuscript chronicles the history of the Ryukyu Kingdom.

It says that the king will reward good deeds from his vassals with "ton-byan."

Only those of high status were allowed to don a "ton-byan" kimono.

The fabric was born from Ryukyu's flourishing aristocracy.

Acting as a crossroad between different countries, Ryukyu developed a rich culture, which eventually attracted interest from Europe as well.

This is the journal of British naval officer Basil Hall in the early 19th century.

Hall describes Ryukyu as "having no military weapons of any kind."

He depicts the island as a peaceful utopia.

But the peace of the Ryukyu era came to an end with the so-called "Ryukyu Disposition," or "Disposal" in 1879.

King Sho Tai was moved to Tokyo, and the kingdom was annexed by Japan.

One man feared that the unique culture of Ryukyu would be lost.

Adolf Bastian, the director of the Ethnological Museum of Berlin, who decided to gather cultural assets of the Ryukyu Kingdom.

In 1884, more than 540 were purchased and shipped to Germany.

They included clothes and other daily items.

Some textiles made the journey as well.

Sudo wanted to know more about them.

Good afternoon.

- Thank you for having me.
- Please come in.

Shukumine Kyoko is one of the leading artisans of a weaving technique called "Shuri-ori."

She is known for her work that combines tradition with innovation.

In the winter of 1994, after learning that Germany owned a collection of textiles from the Ryukyu Kingdom, she immediately visited the museum for research.

More than 100 dyed and woven items were stored there.

They were dirty and covered in dust.

My white gloves would turn black
by the end of the day.

But they were all such precious items.
I wanted to bring each of them home.

Shukumine spent six months examining the textiles.

It was like meeting the people
behind the fabrics.

Looking at the threads spun so neatly,
through the fabric, I could visualize...

...the people who worked on it.

I could see the story behind each piece.
It was such an emotional experience.

She reproduced eight pieces of textile from the Ryukyu era based on her research in Berlin.

This is the royal headdress of Ryukyu she saw in Berlin.

It's decorated with an intricate pattern woven in "shuri-ori" techniques.

She recreated the pattern and applied it to a kimono.

Among the items in the museum collection was something unexpected.

- There was "ton-byan?"
- Indeed, there was.

This white fabric with a "kasuri" pattern is recorded as a weave of cotton and "ton-byan" fibers.

The white fibers appear to shimmer like glass.

In the faraway museum, Shukumine found a total of seven pieces marked as "ton-byan" fabric.

But there was no record of the material that had been used to weave them.

Others are trying to uncover the secret of "ton-byan."

Miyagi Nana is a researcher of modern Okinawa textiles.

For her, the biggest feature of "ton-byan" is its transparency.

Miyagi is studying a 19th-century kimono owned by a museum in Okinawa.

This is a perfect example of "ton-byan."

The large patterns on a yellow background
suggest it was for a royal family member.

It was first believed to be "basho-fu," a textile woven with fibers from banana trees.

On the left is "ton-byan."
On the right is "basho-fu."

"Ton-byan" has this transparency.

Other fibers don't have it.

Her research brought some things to light.

When you look closely, you can see
the threads underneath it.

So the garment itself
is probably see-through.

A bit like a modern-day organdy blouse.
I think people enjoyed it as fashion.

I think fashion in its most refined form
focuses on materials.

So I imagine the culture around Shuri
must have been incredibly refined.

I wish I could take a peek
into people's lives back then.

Yanagi Yoshikuni is known as a researcher of Okinawa's textiles.

He mainly focuses on the twist of the threads.

Twisting is a process that binds fibers together to make stronger and longer threads.

The cross-section of a twisted thread is round.

But in "ton-byan," the threads aren't twisted.
You can see they're flat.

It might be what gives it
its sheen and its transparency.

Yanagi believes that the transparency of "ton-byan" comes from how the threads are made.

He picks up one kimono.

It's a "ton-byan" garment that his father and textile craftsman Yanagi Yoshitaka obtained in Okinawa before the war.

He was visiting the island with his uncle, Yanagi Muneyoshi, who led the Folk Crafts movement.

It's adorned with an indigo blue "bingata" pattern.

The name "ton-byan,"
ton-byan cloth, ton-byan...

I think it derives from the name
of the material or thread.

I'm not sure about the material.
There are several theories.

Down to its very threads, "ton-byan" is a mystery that's captured the imagination of many.

One scholar believes that the thread of the "ton-byan" is taken from a type of agave plant.

Matayoshi Mitsukuni.

This is agave. In local dialect
it's actually called "ton-byan."

These leaves are filled with fibers.

I want some.

I wonder if I can cut off a piece.

No? Oh, well.

Actually, Matayoshi specializes not in textiles... but in computer science.

"Ton-byan" is called a lost fiber, a lost cloth.
If something is lost, I want to find it.

Intrigued by the plant's name, "ton-byan," Matayoshi's inquisitive mind led him to see for himself if he could extract fibers from it.

I got sap on my skin
when breaking the leaves.

And it was itching terribly.
But in the end I succeeded.

Matayoshi was able to obtain pure white fibers.

He believes these are what "ton-byan" is made of.

Before the trip, Sudo showed us something at her shop.

She had been in touch with yet another person in pursuit of "ton-byan."

She had sent letters to Sudo to share her findings.

There's a mystery even today's
science and technology can't solve.

Romantic, isn't it?

The letters were from Le Bars Miyahira Ginko, who passed away in 2018.

Ginko was the daughter of Miyahira Hatsuko, a living national treasure in the field of "shuri-ori" weaving.

Growing up, Ginko watched her mother work, and was inspired to pursue a path in textiles.

After attending art school, she went to France to study Gobelin tapestry weaving, which she then incorporated into her "shuri-ori" pieces.

She later taught at university while continuing her quest to create the ultimate "shuri-ori."

Ginko first encountered "ton-byan" in 1982.

Crafts that had been taken to the mainland and survived the war were brought back to Okinawa for the first time in nearly 50 years.

Crowds gathered to catch a glimpse of the long-lost beauty of Ryukyu.

Ginko saw people reacting to "ton-byan."

That was when her pursuit of the enigmatic textile started.

You usually don't see men
at a textile exhibition.

But there were a lot of men there,
looking intently at the "ton-byan."

Many said they wanted to
wear it again.

That's how I got interested.

Ginko was moved by the place "ton-byan" held in people's hearts.

She wanted to hold its threads, and weave the long-lost fabric with her own hands.

This became her mission as a weaver of "shuri-ori."

Come in.

Oh, so many!

Ginko had kept a huge collection of ton-byan-related items and documents.

Sudo was given the opportunity to examine them.

These threads in her collection suggest Ginko's theory.

This must be ramie.
I believe its hand-spun ramie.

It's beautiful.

Ramie is a perennial plant in the nettle family said to have come from China.

The islands of Miyako and Ishigaki in Okinawa are known for their ramie cloth.

People still cherish ramie today as a part of everyday life.

Fibers are taken from the stem's outer layer of skin.

The skin is divided by hand into increasingly thin strips, gradually becoming white strands.

They are spun together carefully to form a long thread.

Fabrics made from this ramie thread was known for their high quality.

They were offered to the court in the Ryukyu era.

Nature also plays its part.

The seawater and sunlight help the dye to set, and to further bleach the white areas.

This process is still alive in the Yaeyama region.

Ginko, however, believed "ton-byan" was different from Okinawan ramie.

Her hypothesis was that "ton-byan"
used imported threads...

from China's Fujian Province.

Ginko had focused on a company called Maruichi Shoten, which imported so-called "ton-byan," a local specialty from Fujian.

But the Manchurian Incident of 1931 escalated the conflict between Japan and China, and imports of "ton-byan" stopped.

I went through every last document.
All that was left was to find the real thing.

And so I had to go to the region
to try and obtain it.

Ginko visited China several times.

And she finally identified a town in Fujian Province that had a ramie field.

Seeing the ramie thread from that town, Ginko was convinced it was "ton-byan."

Hoping to back this with scientific evidence, she asked an expert in plant fibers to conduct tests on the their structure.

The research concluded that the ramie and "ton-byan" could be considered the same thing.

"Ton-byan" is ramie from China.

That became Ginko's answer.

Hello.

Unten Yuko used to work as an assistant to Ginko.

This is some thread from that time.
It was sent to us in packs like this.

The ramie thread from China was different from any she had seen before.

This becomes clearer through comparison.

The left one is from China, and the right, from Okinawa.

This one's a little thick and warm-colored.
This is thin and slightly transparent.

I think this transparency
is its biggest feature.

It was their first time using Chinese ramie.

Weaving cloth from it proved extremely difficult.

It's so transparent.
It's hard to see it when weaving.

At first, we could only weave
1 or 2 cm a day.

Ginko's mother and living national treasure Hatsuko also joined in the effort.

To put less strain on the delicate ramie threads, they reproduced a loom from pre-war times.

The threads became especially fragile when dry.

So, they constantly applied water as they wove.

When they finally completed one roll of fabric about ten meters long, two years had passed.

But no one has seen Ginko's "ton-byan" yet.

Really? This is so exciting!

Can I?

Oh, this is amazing.

Ginko's pursuit of nearly 30 years had culminated in this single piece of cloth.

Wow...

The sheer fabric faintly reflects light.

It's strong and soft at the same time.

And it has such a beautiful sheen.

I thought of Ginko, who committed herself
to reviving "ton-byan."

The brilliant fabric now in my hands seemed
to embody Ginko's strong will...

and the enormous amount of time
she had devoted to it.

Sadly, Ginko later passed away.

Her studio was closed down in September this year.

"Ton-byan" was once again without an artisan to weave it.

At the end of her trip, Sudo made one last visit to Shuri Castle.

A long time ago, it was a place where people and cultures met, and the cradle of Okinawa's unique textiles.

You can see the ships from here.

Ships must have carried culture
in and out through the centuries.

Through this journey, I've met people
determined to carry on...

the techniques and esthetics
of Ryukyu culture.

It has renewed my passion for sharing
their dedicated work with the world.

Ryukyu's distinctive sense of beauty has often been faced with the threat of disappearance.

Yet, every time, it has been revived by the hands of passionate creators.

Together with the mysterious "ton-byan," they carry Okinawa's wish for peace, and continue to enchant people across time and beyond borders.