{"id":419298,"date":"2026-07-31T10:10:19","date_gmt":"2026-07-31T10:10:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-ca\/419298\/"},"modified":"2026-07-31T10:10:19","modified_gmt":"2026-07-31T10:10:19","slug":"a-123-year-old-japanese-sweets-shop-in-los-angeles-finally-gets-the-spotlight-it-deserves","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-ca\/419298\/","title":{"rendered":"A 123-year-old Japanese sweets shop in Los Angeles finally gets the spotlight it deserves"},"content":{"rendered":"

You\u2019ve probably walked past a place like\u00a0Fugetsu-Do<\/a>, a\u00a0small family-owned shop<\/a> with a well-worn counter. At the front, near the large windows facing the street, there\u2019s usually a glass case filled with beautiful handmade artisan crafts<\/a>. A case like this can contain all kinds of\u00a0trinkets<\/a>: leather, metal, antique, freshly wood-worked. Other times, it\u2019s\u00a0embroidered fabric<\/a> or ceramic mugs with matching saucers\u00a0painted in cheery colors<\/a>.\u00a0Pastries<\/a>\u00a0show up, too, in places like these, their heavenly scent wafting up and down the boulevard like an olfactory billboard.<\/p>\n

On a busy street in\u00a0Los Angeles<\/a>\u2019 Little Tokyo neighborhood, nestled between a ramen shop and a monster-themed toy store, Fugetsu-Do sits under its forest green awning and cherry-red\u00a0Kanji\u00a0lettering. <\/p>\n

Inside, boxes of\u00a0mochi\u00a0and\u00a0manju\u2014soft, squishy Japanese confections in every conceivable color and design\u2014stack neatly within glass cases, forming rows of lavender, mantis-green, and lovely pink hues. The\u00a0mochi and\u00a0manju\u00a0here are minor miracles, crafted using a family recipe that\u2019s traversed centuries, passed down from father to son and on.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"Fugetsu-Do,The interior of Fugetsu-Do.<\/p>\n

Fugetsu-Do\u2019s existence is no small feat. The shop has been churning out its signature treats in Little Tokyo since 1903, making it the\u00a0oldest Japanese-American business in the country<\/a>. It\u2019s the Kito family\u2019s pride and legacy. <\/p>\n

Today, Fugetsu-Do is a beloved neighborhood staple and pillar of Los Angeles\u2019 Japanese American community. It is a place where lines often stretch out the door and spill into the street. Recently, Fugetsu-Do joined the lineup at one of\u00a0L.A.\u2019s biggest summer food events<\/a>, taking their place among Michelin-star chefs, celebrities, and the city\u2019s rising culinary stars.\u00a0But more on that later.<\/p>\n

All in all, it\u2019s a big deal. But to fully appreciate its magnitude, you will need to know the stakes. To get where it is today, Fugetsu-Do and the Kito family would need to survive a World War, anti-Japanese racism, and more than a century of upheaval.<\/p>\n

A sweets shop with a 123-year head start\u00a0<\/p>\n

The year was 1903, and founder\u00a0Seiichi Kito<\/a>\u00a0had just arrived in California from Gifu, Japan. He set off to find Los Angeles\u2019 downtown district, quickly settling into the neighborhood that would later become Little Tokyo. Japanese immigrants had lived here\u00a0since the mid-1880s<\/a>. Its rapidly growing population had created a bustling hub filled with churches, schools, mutual aid groups, and boarding houses that offered rooms for rent and a hot meal. In the early 1900s, it was home to the\u00a0largest community of Japanese people in the U.S.<\/a>, and roughly 10,000 people lived and worked within its limits. Today, Little Tokyo is still important, but in a different way. Before World War II, there were more than\u00a080 Japantowns across America<\/a>. Now, there are only three: LA\u2019s Little Tokyo, one in San Francisco, and one in San Jose.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"Fugetsu-Do,Seiichi Kito with his wife, Tei, and their children. Photo credit: Courtesy of\u00a0Fugetsu-Do<\/a><\/p>\n

It\u2019s not just a little candy store, it has connections to our culture and to our religion. \u2013Brian Kito<\/a>, third-generation owner of Fugetsu-Do\n<\/p>\n

But back to Seiichi. Together with a few friends, the young Japanese immigrant\u00a0opened Fugetsu-Do<\/a>\u00a0and began delivering its treats to customers. He stored the\u00a0mochi and\u00a0manju\u00a0in a pouch slung over his shoulders like a backpack. Business soared just before holidays like New Year\u2019s Day, the autumn equinox, and Girl\u2019s Day (March 3), when special\u00a0wagashi\u00a0(which literally translates to \u201cJapanese sweets<\/a>\u201d) are required for wishes of good health, luck, and blessings.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cNobody had a pastry shop in Little Tokyo back then, so it would get very busy,\u201d recalled Seiichi\u2019s youngest son, Roy Kito, in an interview with the\u00a0Los Angeles Times<\/a> in 2002. \u201cWe would put up a rope and tell customers they couldn\u2019t come into the store.\u201d<\/p>\n

The war that nearly ended it<\/p>\n

Then one of America\u2019s most painful chapters unfolded. It was 1942, and World War II was in full swing. Ten weeks prior, Japan\u00a0attacked Pearl Harbor<\/a>. The Allies were\u00a0losing nearly everywhere<\/a>. Trapped within a pressure cooker of military panic, political pressure, public hysteria, long-standing racism\u2014and zero real evidence of any threat<\/a>\u2014President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed\u00a0Executive Order 9066<\/a>. This led to the forced removal and mass incarceration of roughly\u00a0122,000 men, women, and children<\/a>. Nearly 70,000 were U.S. citizens.\u00a0<\/p>\n

On paper, Executive Order 9066 did not name any specific ethnic group. It gave military commanders the authority to designate zones and exclude \u201cany or all persons<\/a>\u201d from them. In practice, it was used\u00a0almost exclusively against people of Japanese ancestry<\/a>\u00a0living on the West Coast. And more than two-thirds of them were U.S.-born citizens.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Today, the U.S. remembers Executive Order 9066 as a\u00a0grave racial injustice and\u00a0civil liberties failure.\u00a0Former President Joe Biden\u00a0called it \u201cone of the most shameful periods in our nation\u2019s history.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018We had to live the American dream twice\u2019<\/p>\n

Soon after President Roosevelt\u2019s Executive Order, the Kitos\u00a0were sent<\/a>\u00a0to\u00a0Heart Mountain Relocation Center in Wyoming<\/a>, one of the ten camps used for the internment of Japanese Americans during WWII. Here, in the bleak and windy desert, they were surrounded by\u00a0guard towers, barbed wire, and armed soldiers, and given identification tags to be worn at all times. The buildings were hastily built, poorly insulated, and highly vulnerable to Wyoming\u2019s harsh, desolate conditions: dust, wind, extreme cold, and summer heat.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The\u00a0Kito family, including Seiichi\u2019s youngest son, Roy, were constantly reminded of their status as prisoners.\u00a0Privacy<\/a>\u00a0became a rare luxury. They needed to haul coal for heat and regularly sweep their room for dust, which blew through gaps in the floorboards and the shoddily constructed walls. And yet, there were sweets. Roy watched as his father, hunched over a small stove,\u00a0made\u00a0manju<\/a>\u00a0for the rest of the camp at Heart Mountain. \u201cWhen word spread around that my grandfather was a pastry chef,\u201d writes Roy\u2019s son,\u00a0Brian Kito<\/a>, \u201cfellow detainees provided him with their sugar rations.\u201d<\/p>\n

Coming home, though, wasn\u2019t simple. After World War II, Roy tried to reestablish his father\u2019s confectionery shop in Little Tokyo, but he kept running into walls. Before leaving L.A., the Kito family had\u00a0only days to liquidate the store\u2019s inventory<\/a>, and what they couldn\u2019t sell, they put into storage. When they returned, the\u00a0man who\u2019d held their equipment demanded four years of back rent. It was impossible to pay, and Roy lost the machinery.<\/p>\n

He and his wife, Kazuko (whom he\u00a0met and married<\/a>\u00a0at Heart Mountain), began sleeping at Koyasan Temple, and Roy waited tables for 20 cents an hour. Then the day finally arrived: on\u00a0May 5, 1946<\/a>, Roy reopened Fugetsu-Do in a new location on East First Street, with the help of the Tanahashi family. His son, Brian, sums it up perfectly. \u201cThe store itself has this overlying passion to exist. It just wants to survive. That\u2019s why it\u2019s still here,\u201d he said in a\u00a0documentary<\/a>\u00a0about Fugetsu-Do. \u201cWe had to live the American Dream twice.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

More than a store\u00a0<\/p>\n

Ask Brian Kito what\u2019s kept Fugetsu-Do alive 123 years after his grandfather opened it, and he\u2019ll tell you it doesn\u2019t really belong to him. \u201cThe community feels it\u2019s theirs,\u201d he told\u00a0Discover Los Angeles<\/a>. \u201cIt\u2019s not just my store, it\u2019s the community store.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"Korey<\/a>
\nKorey and his parents. Photo credit: Courtesy of\u00a0Fugetsu-Do<\/a><\/p>\n

Now he\u2019s handing it down to the next generation: his son,\u00a0Korey<\/a>, is training to become the fourth-generation owner of the family\u2019s shop. To get there, he\u2019ll need to become a master\u00a0wagashi\u00a0confectioner\u2014something that takes a full ten years<\/a>\u2014spending thousands of hours making\u00a0mochi\u00a0and\u00a0manju\u00a0until his hands instinctively know what to do.<\/p>\n

Mochi and manju: a quick guide<\/p>\n

So what\u2019s inside that glass case?<\/p>\n

First,\u00a0mochi: the\u00a0soft, pleasantly chewy rice cakes<\/a>\u00a0made from steamed, then pounded rice. It\u2019s often stretched around fillings like sweet red bean paste (anko) or fruit, and enjoyed best with a hot cup of tea.<\/p>\n

And\u00a0manju: its\u00a0steamed-and-baked counterpart<\/a>, made with cake flour and usually filled with\u00a0anko, although some prefer\u00a0custard or vegetables<\/a>.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\"Fugetsu-Do,A shelf at Fugetsu-Do. Photo credit: Courtesy of Kat Hong<\/p>\n

Fugetsu-Do offers endless options. Pale yellow mounds, dusted with\u00a0kinako (roasted soybean powder), coat your tongue with a delicious taste that\u2019s roasted, nutty, earthy, and sweet.\u00a0Kiku\u00a0mochi, which means \u201cchrysanthemum,\u201d are delicately shaped like the flower itself. Seasonal fruit\u00a0dango\u00a0pops up throughout the year, rotating through apple, mango, plum, blueberry, and\u00a0sakura\u00a0cherry blossoms in the spring. The fresh strawberry mochi are a particular delight.<\/p>\n

Why this moment matters<\/p>\n

For a place like Fugetsu-Do, survival is never fully behind you. Little Tokyo was recently named on a list of\u00a0America\u2019s 11 Most Endangered Historic Places<\/a>, thanks to rising rents that threaten the neighborhood\u2019s small, family-run businesses. It\u2019s a slow, squeezing pressure. But if anyone can handle it, it\u2019s Fugetsu-Do.\u00a0<\/p>\n

On June 27, 2026, Fugetsu-Do joined the lineup at the\u00a0Family Style Food Festival<\/a>\u00a0at Los Angeles State Historic Park. With the warm California sun overhead and spirits high, the day nearly felt picture-perfect as people from across the city and beyond gathered to celebrate good food, music, and culture. The confectionery shop\u00a0teamed up<\/a>\u00a0with L.A. designer Leeann Huang for an exclusive drop of mochi cakes, available for that one day only.<\/p>\n

More than a century ago, in a neighborhood not far from here, Seiichi Kito set out rain or shine to deliver mochi to a growing community of Japanese immigrants. Since then, Fugetsu-Do has survived what most businesses never could: World War II and Japanese internment, the 1992 L.A. riots, the COVID-19 pandemic. And yet, here it is on a glorious summer day at the end of June in 2026, not just alive, but thriving.<\/p>\n

The shop on First Street is, it seems, in good hands. As his father, Brian, prepares to hand it over, fourth-generation confectioner\u00a0Korey Kito<\/a>\u00a0says he knows exactly what\u2019s at stake: \u201cEverything around us has been changing,\u201d he said. \u201cSo I really want to keep Fugetsu-Do there and keep it open for another 100 years.\u201d\n<\/p>\n