Toshiyuki Mimaki was in Hiroshima watching the live broadcast of the Nobel Peace Prize announcement on his smartphone.

When he heard the presenter say, “Nihon Hidankyo,” he sat bolt upright at the Hiroshima city government office building.

Mimaki, who is 82, has dedicated his life to informing the world of the horrors of atomic warfare. He is co-chair of Nihon Hidankyo (the Japan Confederation of A- and H-Bomb Sufferers Organizations) and heads the group’s Hiroshima Prefecture branch.

He immediately checked with those around him that Nihon Hidankyo had indeed been named recipient of the 2024 Nobel Peace Prize, as tears welled in his eyes.

“It’s a dream of a dream, a dream of a dream,” he said, pinching his cheeks as if to check the Oct. 11 announcement by the Norwegian Nobel Committee wasn’t just his imagination running riot.

“It’s really … hard to take in.”

80th ANNIVERSARY LOOMING 

Hibakusha, their supporters and others were overjoyed at finally gaining recognition of their efforts to achieve a nuclear-free world on such a prestigious world platform.

It also comes as Hiroshima and Nagasaki prepare to mark the 80th anniversary of the atomic bombings of their cities next year.

“We never wanted anyone else to go through what happened to us,” Nihon Hidankyo member Masako Kudo, 62, told reporters at the organization’s office in Tokyo’s Minato Ward as she reflected on its nearly 70-year history.

In a conversation with colleagues earlier in the day, the topic of the Nobel Peace Prize came up, but she admitted she never really thought the organization would be named this year’s Peace Prize recipient a few hours later.

“I am so happy that our activities have finally been recognized around the world,” she added.

But it was also a bittersweet victory because so many hibakusha have died over the years.

Kudo said she desperately wished she could have informed them of the day’s momentous announcement.

For decades, hibakusha endured discrimination over the label that marked them out for special government treatment, not always forthcoming.

Some spent their entire lives without feeling comfortable about publicly identifying themselves as A-bomb survivors.

At the same time, the central government did not provide sufficient medical support to those who lived through the bombings. And no matter how loudly they spoke out, their calls for nuclear abolition always seemed to go unheard.

Nearly 80 years after the atomic devastation that claimed tens of thousands of lives, hibakusha numbers are dwindling rapidly. The number of people nationwide who hold the A-bomb survivor health certificate totals 106,825. In recent years, the number has been decreasing at a rate of 10,000 annually.

That largely explains the encouragement A-bomb survivors feel now that their representative organization has suddenly achieved world prominence.

Nagasaki resident Hiromitsu Morita, 90, was 10 years old when the atomic bomb leveled the city on Aug. 9, 1945.

Over the years, he has called for “Nagasaki to be the last A-bombed city.”

Upon hearing the Nobel Peace Prize news, Morita said: “I am very happy that our efforts to date have borne fruit. I will continue to appeal for nuclear abolition.”

Shizuko Mitamura, 82, was also a small girl when Nagasaki was reduced to rubble.

Around 30 years ago, she began volunteering at the Nagasaki Peace Park in the city to convey her memories of that fateful day. She relies on handmade picture-story shows based on stories and memoirs she heard directly from A-bomb survivors to get her message across.

Mitamura said she learned of the Nobel Peace Prize announcement while she and her husband were having dinner at home and watching TV.

“All the work we have done up until now has paid off,” she said.

Mitamura said she hopes the award “will encourage the world to take steps toward the abolition of nuclear weapons.”

“I myself will continue to speak out loudly from Nagasaki,” she said.

After all this time, conflicts still plague the world, from Russia’s war against Ukraine to Israel’s war in Gaza that threatens to engulf the Middle East, as well as fears, fanned by Russian President Vladimir Putin, that nuclear weapons, in his book, are not as taboo as the West would like.

Terumi Tanaka, who is 92 and a longtime member of Nihon Hidankyo, has played a central role in the organization’s activities. He cited Putin’s threatening remarks in which he flirted with the possibility of using nuclear weapons in its conflict with Ukraine.

Tanaka said Putin “must have no idea how terrifying nuclear weapons really are.”

He added, “There are people here who experienced it, and I want their voices to be heard.”