On the shelves at Hareru-sha—a small independent publishing house based in Kunitachi—you’ll find a collection of well-known and beloved children’s books. They are discreetly displayed but are not for sale—just reminders of the founders’ inspirations. Hareru-sha isn’t a book shop, but a place shaped by stories. These displayed books first sparked something inside of the founders, Haruna Haruyama and Miho Hirata—they are stories that captured their imaginations as children and eventually led them to start making books of their own.

At its core, Hareru-sha is built around what they call co-creative publishing. In Japan, publishing typically falls into three categories: commercial publishing, where the publisher covers the costs and steers the direction; self-publishing, where the author handles everything themselves; and a middle ground known as collaborative publishing—where author and publisher share expenses as well as ideas.

At Hareru-sha, the process is rooted in deep, patient communication. It begins with a simple but powerful question: “What do you truly want to make?” From there, a dialogue unfolds—one that doesn’t rush or shy away from complexity. Through ongoing, open-ended conversations, the team gently guides the author to reflect, dig deeper, and clarify what really matters to them.

Even though the author ultimately makes the final decisions, Hareru-sha walks alongside them every step of the way. The goal is not just to shape a book, but to support the author in articulating their inner vision—sometimes even feelings or thoughts they hadn’t fully realized themselves. This process takes time, but it’s what allows the finished book to carry a quiet strength: the sense that every choice in it was made with intention and care.

Publishing: A Shared Path Cultivated With Purpose

Haruna traces the beginnings of her design sensibility back to quiet afternoons in her elementary school library. “I loved being in the library. I used to pick up books without thinking—just drawn to a cover or a title on the spine. Looking back, I think that quiet instinct, the visual pull of a book, was the beginning of how I learned to see.”

That tendency to pause and question has been with her since childhood. When others accepted things as just the way they were, she couldn’t help but continue to question to delve deeper into the true feelings and meanings. And even when given complete freedom, she would stop and wonder, “What does that freedom actually mean?”

She says, “Discomfort is a moment that asks us to pause—and sometimes, it’s what lets us shift and modify. It’s like when something unfamiliar appears in a familiar place—it interrupts the flow, catches you off guard, and makes you notice. That change can reveal what really matters. Like the installations on Naoshima—they feel slightly out of place in the natural setting, but that’s exactly what makes the landscape feel more vivid, more alive.”

For editor Miho, the process starts with an open question, not a plan: “So, what do you want to make? What’s your real vision?” Even though the author makes the final calls, Miho and the team walk alongside them the whole way. They dive deep into the author’s thoughts, asking questions over and over, helping the author find and express what really matters to them.

This process isn’t just about crafting a better book—it’s about helping authors own their stories fully. Sometimes politeness or assumptions leave things unsaid, but real communication begins with sometimes difficult and honest questions. And being asked those questions can help authors discover feelings they didn’t even realize they had. “There’s no one right answer. It’s through an ongoing dialogue that something truly meaningful takes shape.”

Miho says, “Dialogue is one of the essential ingredients that helps create a book capable of truly moving its readers.” She recalls working on a commemorative publication with Tomoyuki Kaya, the head priest of Tanashi Shrine. At the book’s launch celebration, he shared that the process of making the book—the back-and-forth, the exchange of thoughts—was the most enjoyable experience of his life. “That moment made me see again the quiet power of books, and the deeper joy of making them.”

Care is The Art of Welcoming Space and Silence

A book is something you can come back to, over and over. The way the words sit on the page, the feel of the paper, even its smell—somehow it all brings old memories back. Miho says, “You don’t always remember the exact page, but you kind of know where it was. Like, ‘around here,’ or ‘bottom left on a left-hand page.’ Books have a way of storing things in your head without you even noticing. As you flip through, a sort of map starts to take shape.”

When it came to choosing where to base their publishing work, Haruna and Miho considered several places. In the end, they chose Kunitachi because it simply felt right—it matched their pace. There’s a quiet charm to the town, a slow unfolding of change, and a hint of nostalgia that lingers. It’s a place made for people who care not just about ideas, but the spaces they live in. It’s also about the pace at which those spaces are allowed to grow.

Miho talks about the importance of blank time—those quiet, unscheduled hours when your thoughts and feelings can settle naturally. “When you’re juggling a lot of work, it’s easy to push yourself aside. Even when you try to care for yourself by planning a relaxing outing—like a hot spring trip or a nice dinner—it can just turn into another thing on your to-do list. After a while, those moments start to feel like work, too.” She adds, “I’ve realized that true care comes from having time with no plans at all. It might seem like a waste, especially when life is busy, but to me, it’s actually a rare kind of luxury.”

On Hareru-sha’s website, a simple message captures their ethos:
“We want to be truly present with each author, taking our time to make good books thoughtfully. That’s why we started Hareru-sha. To us, a good book honors the author’s lived experience and words, while also carrying a worldview the reader didn’t even know they were waiting to discover. In the end, it’s a book that stays with you for a long time.”

The journey Haruna and Miho are still unfolding—step by step, full of discovery and care.

About Kunitachi

Kunitachi developed into a college town after Hitotsubashi University, a prominent public university, relocated from the city center in the early Showa period (1926-1989). The main street extending south from Kunitachi Station is called Daigaku-dori (university avenue) and leads to Hitotsubashi University. This street is also renowned for its cherry blossoms, with approximately 200 trees lining the avenue. Kunitachi was cherished by writer Hitomi Yamaguchi and musicians Kiyoshiro Imawano and Ryuichi Sakamoto among other well-known artists and writers.

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