The brewery I’m introducing today, Akabu Shuzo, carries a history that forced it to rebuild itself from the ground up.

It was originally founded in 1896 in a town called Otsuchi, in Iwate Prefecture.

Then, in 2013, a new brewery was established in Morioka.

The person behind what we now know as Akabu is Ryunosuke Furudate.

Before Akabu, the brewery had been producing a sake called Hama Musume within Iwate.

“Akabu” itself is a relatively new brand, born in 2014.

The road to Akabu’s birth was anything but smooth.

The earthquake destroyed everything—equipment, bottles, even the brewery itself—bringing it back to a state as if it had never existed.

Long-time employees left, and at one point, the brewery was run by a younger generation in their 20s and 30s with very little experience.

There was even a time when they seriously considered shutting down brewing altogether, going as far as telling their loyal customers that they might not be able to continue.

And yet—

Akabu was born.

Today, it stands as one of the representative sake of Iwate Prefecture,

and has gained recognition not only in Japan, but also among sake fans across Korea, China, and the rest of the world.

From here, I’d like to talk about how Akabu came into existence—what kind of journey led to its birth.

And as you listen…

maybe put on “Naminori Johnny” by Keisuke Kuwata. It might just be the perfect soundtrack.

 

March 11, 2011 — the day everything was lost.

Iwate Prefecture, like the breweries I mentioned earlier such as Miyakanbai and Hakurakusei, was also devastated by the Great East Japan Earthquake.

Everything collapsed.

Everything the brewery had—

the equipment needed for brewing, the bottles,

and even the homes of the employees who had built their lives in Iwate—

all of it was gone.

This wasn’t just a matter of damage.

It was a situation where everything had to be rebuilt from scratch.

Let’s imagine it.

You’re running a brewery.

It’s a place your father dedicated his entire life to,

and before him, your grandfather did the same.

A brewery that began in 1893—

now passed down to you as the fifth generation after more than a century.

You’ve devoted your life to brewing there.

And then, a natural disaster strikes.

The brewery collapses.

Not just partially—

but to the point where it’s as if it never existed,

as if it had returned to the state before it was even built 120 years ago.

In a moment, the place that held your family’s entire history is gone.

What choice would you make?

Would you face the problem in front of you,

recognize it for what it is,

and move forward—one small step at a time?

Or would you give up,

and choose a completely different life?

At the time, the kuramoto, Shuho Furudate,

actually decided to stop brewing.

He even went as far as telling his customers

that he would not be able to continue.

But in that process,

messages began to arrive from many of those customers—

“Someday, we want to drink your sake again.”

Those words pulled him back from despair.

He chose to stand up again,

and move forward.

To move forward, what you need is simple—

to clearly understand the problems in front of you,

and to solve them one by one.

The problem itself was easy to identify.

But it was overwhelming.

The brewery no longer existed.

And without a brewery,

there was no way to make sake.

 

A single brewery extended a helping hand: Sakuragao Shuzo.

To find a solution, they searched for breweries within the prefecture that were still operational.

But allowing outsiders into a brewery is never an easy decision—

both for the brewery itself and for maintaining the quality of the sake.

They were turned away, again and again.

And then—

one brewery reached out a helping hand.

Sakuragao Shuzo, located in Iwate.

Without them, the Akabu we know today might never have existed.

Thanks to Sakuragao Shuzo’s support,

Hama Musume was able to return to the world in 2011—the very year the earthquake struck.

The yeast that had been lost in the disaster

was restored using strains preserved at the Iwate Industrial Technology Center.

While continuing to brew at another brewery and slowly beginning to envision a future again,

two years passed.

In 2013, although rebuilding in their original home of Otsuchi was no longer possible,

they were finally able to construct a new brewery further inland, in Morioka.

But after hardship—

comes another hardship.

Two years was simply too long for the original staff to wait.

They had to move on with their lives,

and the team scattered.

In the newly built brewery,

they gathered a new team—ten young employees in their 20s and 30s,

with little experience.

They lacked experience.

But in return,

they gained something else—

a fresh perspective on sake brewing.

And every one of them was filled with energy and ambition.

At the same time, sales of Hama Musume were beginning to decline.

They needed a breakthrough.

A newly built brewery.

A young team, full of drive.

And a new leader—

Ryunosuke Furudate,

son of Shuho Furudate,

the sixth-generation kuramoto,

who took on the role at just 22 years old—

the youngest in Japan.

These three elements came together

and pushed them toward a new goal:

to create a sake that would resonate with a younger generation.

At the time, among younger sake fans,

labels like Juyondai and Jikon were gaining popularity.

Their fruity aromas, elegant fragrance,

and soft sweetness became the guiding light for their brewing.

And then—

in 2014,

Akabu was born.

But in its first year,

neither sake retailers, customers,

nor even the brewers themselves

were truly satisfied with its taste.

Then came 2015—the second year after its release.

Taking in all the feedback from the previous year,

and carefully addressing each of their own shortcomings,

the entire team worked together to refine the sake.

The result—

high praise from the market.

Starting in Tokyo,

they began building relationships with restaurants and retailers.

And from there,

as we know today,

Akabu grew into one of the most recognized sake brands in Japan.

Those once inexperienced young brewers

have now become veterans with over a decade of experience—

indispensable pillars of the brewery.

.

.

2026 marks the 13th year since the birth of Akabu.

Today, Akabu Shuzo offers over 40 labels, and in March, their spring seasonal release—SAKURA—makes its appearance.

It has recently been stocked at the sake shops Todoroki and Hisaya that I mentioned earlier,

and in Fukuoka, you’ll almost certainly find a bottle sitting somewhere in the fridge of any well-known nihonshu izakaya.

That’s how appealing Akabu’s seasonal limited releases are.

On the evening of March 21, as I write this,

I opened a bottle of Akabu Newborn Omachi that I picked up at Hisaya.

Being made with Omachi rice,

it had a rich umami depth, along with a slight natural fizz.

“Yeah… this is Akabu,” I thought.

But at the same time,

I couldn’t help thinking—

wouldn’t it be even more interesting to drink it side by side

with the Akabu SNOW I had last winter?

Then another idea crossed my mind.

Someday, I’d love to have a large fridge at home,

fill it entirely with sake,

store the bottles I buy in winter all the way until summer,

and then enjoy them alongside summer releases—

just imagining that alone felt exciting.

.

.

 

Akabu is a sake that becomes even more compelling once you know the story behind it.

Like many in the Tohoku region, the brewery was deeply impacted by the 2011 disaster,

and even today, the current kuramoto still holds a strong longing for Otsuchi.

And yet, from that devastation,

they gave birth to Akabu—a sake now recognized around the world.

Behind that journey were the voices of loyal customers who urged them to brew again,

the support of Sakuragao Shuzo,

government assistance for rebuilding,

a new team of ten employees gathered in Morioka,

and the relentless dedication of Ryunosuke Furudate,

who inherited the brewery from his father and worked tirelessly, often through the night.

It reminded me of something simple, but powerful—

Success isn’t luck.

It’s something you build.

Akabu has been available in Korea for quite some time,

so if you’re in Seoul, you’ll likely find it without much difficulty at a nihonshu izakaya

(though I can’t say for other regions, since I haven’t lived there).

And if you ever come across a bottle after reading this,

try taking a moment to remember the story behind it before you order.

I think that one cup

will feel just a little deeper.

Sources:

https://jp.sake-times.com/special/interview/sake_10years-since-2011-iwate (The aftermath of the Great East Japan Earthquake) 

https://nihonmono.jp/en/article/37281/ (The aftermath of the Great East Japan Earthquake and the birth of Akabu)