Communities across Japan step in to ensure children do not go hungry as poverty rises.

In a modest flat in Saitama, the kitchen is in disarray and the living room lights do not work. Ai (not her real name), a first-year middle school student, lives here with her mother, Toshiko. Ten years ago, Toshiko divorced and later left her job in healthcare due to mental illness and diabetes. She now relies on welfare support.

“The money we get is nowhere near enough,” she says. “Prices keep rising, but the benefits stay the same.”

Ai does not always eat every day. “Quite often,” she says when asked how often she goes without meals. “It’s common to only have one meal a day. Yesterday, I just had spinach miso soup. That’s it.”

Ai’s situation is not unique. In Japan, 11.5 per cent of children live in poverty, according to OECD figures. That is roughly one in nine children, and Japan ranks 19th among developed nations on this measure.

Visiting the family is Izumi Sekiguchi, a support worker from Sainokuni Children’s and Youth Support. Commissioned by the prefecture, she visits families like Ai’s over ten times a month. “Of course, I hope her home becomes a place of comfort for her,” she says. “But I feel children’s environments are worsening more and more.”

Sekiguchi bought Ai a supermarket lunch box on the spot. There was no dining table. Meals are usually eaten in silence.

The issue of children going without meals has drawn responses from across Japanese society. In Chiba City, the Tsugano-wa Children’s Cafeteria operates once a month and prepares around 150 meals each time. “This cafeteria is the thing I look forward to the most,” said one child who visits. “At home, my parents are busy working, so they’re hardly ever there. But here I can talk to people properly.”

The cafeteria’s monthly food costs run to around 100,000 yen (S$900), mostly funded by local business donations. But soaring prices are straining budgets. “We want the kids to eat well, so we use Koshihikari rice,” says director Terumi Tanaka. “I bought it last month. Now this is all that’s left.”

Tanaka, a certified social worker, operates the cafeteria on a volunteer basis. She draws on her own experience growing up with working parents. “The neighbour’s grandma would say, ‘Your mum and dad are late today,’ and then she would give me dinner. That’s how I grew up in this community. So I want to give back, to pass on that kindness.”

Children’s cafeterias, known locally as kodomo shokudo, began as grassroots responses to child poverty. Today, they also serve as community hubs. There are now more than 18,000 across Japan. These are typically run by non-profit organisations, volunteers or local businesses, and provide free or low-cost meals to children, often in a safe, welcoming environment.

Makoto Yuasa, a specially appointed professor at the University of Tokyo, says the growth of these cafeterias reflects broader social changes. “The biggest factor is the decline in community ties,” he explains. “Primary schools are closing down. Shopping streets become shuttered arcades. The connections within communities are fading. People want to bring those ties back.”

One such tie is Food Bank TAMA, led by 72-year-old Seiichiro Shibata. He collects near-expiry food from companies and individuals and redistributes it to children’s cafeterias and families in need. “If I see a hungry child right there, I can only give them food to eat,” he says. “That was my mindset when I started.”

Like others, Food Bank TAMA is feeling the pressure. In the past year, both the food received and the food distributed dropped by half. “Price hikes just keep coming,” Shibata says. “With raw material costs rising too, there’s less surplus in every sense.”

To adapt, Shibata installed commercial freezers at a local factory yard with help from city subsidies. These allow him to accept and store frozen food donations, including items such as ready-to-eat chicken breast and dango dumplings, which are then shared with children’s cafeterias.

Among the recipients is Fukuro House, a children’s cafeteria in Hachioji. “So many children come hungry. Donations like this really help,” says its director Akina Hosoda.

Support has also come from the private sector. In Tokyo’s Itabashi Ward, a former bank branch has been converted into Atelier Banrai Itabashi, a free facility run by Sumitomo Mitsui Financial Group (SMFG) for upper primary school pupils. It includes a library, study space and a children’s cafeteria on the second floor.

“It’s not just doing good for society and community,” says SMFG staff member Ryoko Ohkaya. “It’s aligned with our strategies and focus areas.”

Ohkaya, who previously worked in corporate sales and later in charity work, led the project to transform the bank space into a centre for learning and food support. “Through social contribution, we can use the profits from our business to tackle social issues,” she says. “That’s how I see it. It feels like we’re contributing. And in that sense, it’s rewarding.”

The facility hosts rotating children’s cafeterias and offers hands-on programmes, such as food education classes run with corporate partners. One recent class was led by House Foods and taught children how Fruiche, a fruit dessert, is made. The lesson included an experiment with soy milk to explain how pectin and calcium affect texture. “Calcium and pectin together connect and make it springy. I learnt that today,” said one child after the session.

Ohkaya believes these experiences help address deeper issues. “For the children too, this must have been a really valuable opportunity. They learned the importance of food and education,” she says. “As they grow into adults, this knowledge will surely be vital for their future.”

Still, she and others are aware that much of this work relies on fragile resources. Government subsidies exist, such as support of up to three million yen a year under the Local Child Life Support Project, but uptake is limited. Awareness is low and application processes are complex, leaving many cafeterias without funding.

In the meantime, people like Tanaka and Shibata keep going. “As long as I’m well, I want to keep doing this,” says Shibata. “If it helps someone, that makes me so happy.”