Season 3

A beloved stuffed animal is irreplaceable. But over the years they suffer wear and tear, and the damage can be severe. The attachment their owners feel makes replacement out of the question. And so Hakozaki Natsumi opened her stuffed animal hospital. Carefully restoring what, for her clients, are members of the family, she calls what she does treatment, not repair. And she now helps restore patients sent in by people from all over the world.

Former pro skateboarder Shimizu Aoi set out to become an artist in his second life. As he searched for a medium to work in, he was caught by the jeans he once wore during practice. The denim's appealing color gradations and distinctive tears made it an ideal candidate material. He now uses it to make traditional Daruma dolls, Japanese symbols of good fortune. Using old jeans from his clients, Shimizu makes one-of-a-kind Daruma that they'll never want to let go.

Lumber that's too short or too narrow can be hard to sell. Offcuts are usually discarded or end up as woodchips. But Tanaka Ryosuke and Miyachi Yoh use them for furniture. Not big enough for large panels, multiple boards must be glued together, leading to uneven coloring. The answer, to dye the furniture with indigo, transforming each piece into a unified whole. This clever idea and their love of wood itself gives their work an inner beauty that's attracting real interest.

Chef Murota Takuto's restaurant is tucked away in a quiet corner of trend-setting Shibuya. Uniquely, he insists on using wild game, culled as so-called pests that can destroy crops or cause other harm. Wild game isn't mainstream in Japan, so as much as 90% goes to waste. He expresses his waste-not philosophy, using the bones and even the blood, as well as the meat, in his cooking. He believes that if we take a life, we owe that life a debt of respect. And his culinary creations are his way of repaying it.

Fashion designer Sawayanagi Naoshi uses only all-natural materials to make clothing that can be safely decomposed by microorganisms in the soil. His partner Hirota Takuya, who studied agriculture helped develop the ideal soil. Their brand is also unique because clothing is rented, not sold, ensuring it's returned when the wearer is done with it. Seeing clothes from beginning to end as they return to the earth is the heart of the pair's astonishing endeavor to reshape the fashion business.

"They're not trash cans, but resource bins," says Murakami Yuki. His love of making goes back to childhood. And at college he developed his own banana peel leather. Transforming garbage and scrap into useful materials – lampshades from coffee grounds or chairs from old receipts – his creations are unique, but they're also as biodegradable as possible, with minimal environmental impact. This sort of alchemy has earned praise and serious interest from industries facing issues surrounding waste.

Manicurist Arimoto Naomi makes colorful nail tips. But behind the beautiful patterns is plastic trash from nearby beaches. Fashion-inspired eco-consciousness is her goal. A former care worker, nine years ago, she lost the use of her legs due to illness. Choosing manicures as something she could do with just her hands; she works with the support of her family. Her husband helps collect the plastic, and her two daughters help break it down. Their love makes her creations shine even brighter.

Echizen City in Fukui Prefecture is a major center for washi paper production. There, papermaker Igarashi Masami created "Food Paper," combining produce like potatoes or onions – mainly discards and scraps from the food industry – with paper mulberry, the traditional material for washi. Her aim is to raise awareness of food loss using traditional crafts. The paper also reflects the natural color of the ingredients; another part of its appeal. It's a new page in the 1,500-year history of Echizen washi.

Ito Naofumi is a watchmaker in southwestern Japan. He's also a rather unusual artist. With old watch parts, he brings frogs, horses, dragonflies and other creatures to life, expressing a watchmaker's appreciation for the eternal beauty found inside a timepiece. People all over Japan send him worn out watches to use in his work. Both the senders and Ito himself believe it's a waste to throw away watches that once faithfully kept the time, and hope that they will live on as one-of-a-kind works of art.

A downtown Tokyo pencil maker offers a unique product. Clay made from sawdust. Working to find a way to make use of the waste generated in the pencil making process, current president, Sugimoto Ryuichi, developed the clay after years of trial and error. It feels just like ordinary clay, and the glue used as a binder is biodegradable, so it's eco-friendly. Better still, when it dries, it behaves just like wood. Child-safe, it's also popular with local childcare facilities.

Japan loves baseball! Many young people here dream of being a pro player. But baseball gear, particularly gloves that differ depending on the player's position, can be so costly that some players give up. Yonezawaya Tomohiro came up with a system to collect old gloves from all over the country, refurbish, and sell them at a lower price. Artisan Oki Satoshi, who handles the repairs, has helped to complete over 3,000 restorations, all so that any child who wants to can ... play ball!

Ibaraki Prefecture, northeast of Tokyo, is home to verdant farmland. Seki Masafumi was born there. At the dyeing studio he runs with his wife Yuko, they use agricultural waste from the area, like pruned stems and leaves to make dye. The colors can be unpredictable, but that's part of the charm. In addition to reducing waste, the aim of their work is to promote local agriculture, always labeling products with the exact origin of the raw materials, hoping to give a boost to Ibaraki farmers.

Yamamoto Atsushi makes things with old bicycle parts. Tires, brakes, valve stems, many parts make up a bicycle, but they're difficult to reuse. Creating clever items like handbags made from innertubes, Yamamoto is a real bicycle lover. And that's why he couldn't simply watch as they were discarded. The work he does is both labor-intensive and time-consuming, but he sees it as his calling. And with steadfast determination, he moves forward one step at a time, just like riding a bicycle.

In this era of cheap, mass-produced products, Nihei Toru sells restored old furniture at his shop in a verdant mountain village north of Tokyo. Pieces that were in bad condition are brought back from the dead. But rather than aiming for good-as-new, he strives to preserve their vintage feel. His passion even extends to his own home—once abandoned and decaying—now tastefully restored. To him, bringing out the hidden charm of such seemingly worthless things far more than just a job, it's a way of life.

Yamaguchi Ayumu runs a small Tokyo distillery. He uses sake lees left over after brewing sake from rice. These often go to waste, but they impart a fruity aroma ideal for distilling into gin. Yamaguchi also uses other waste like coffee grounds and cacao husks—seemingly useless materials—that still have aroma to give. Producing fine liquors, Yamazaki gives value to what would otherwise be waste. As he puts it, "there's nothing in this world that's entirely worthless."

Culinary researcher Yokoyama Takako lives in a mountain region. She cans and ferments local produce to make it through the depths of winter; work supported by nature's bounty and ancestral wisdom.

Takasago Masami generates almost no plastic waste. Composting instead of plastic bags for food scraps, or doing dishes with a cloth instead of a disposable sponge; little ideas that are fun and easy.