Japanese Conviction Rates and Criminal Justice Reform: The Story of Hiromi Higuruma in “Jujutsu Kaisen”
- WULR Team
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
Published April 21st, 2026
Written by Evan Randle
“Jujutsu Kaisen,” the hit anime (a Japanese animated series) following sorcerers and spirits, has become wildly popular online for its animation, fight scenes and characters. Adapted from the manga of the same name by Gege Akutami, its third season started earlier this year and has frequently dominated social media feeds. Audiences are consistently drawn into its high-octane action and brisk pacing. Discussed less often, however, is Akutami’s capability to combine the speculative and the real, the fictional elements of the setting with social issues facing Japan. One character introduced in the third season is Hiromi Higuruma, a defense lawyer who joins the Culling Game, a battle-royale-style of conflict. He is inherently a virtuous man, yet fights an uphill battle against a legal system skewed in favor of prosecutors. Higuruma’s breaking point erupts when a client – a generally well-meaning, if gullible young man – stares at him with rage and betrayal after losing a seemingly simple retrial. Though Higuruma’s backstory is presented and directed wonderfully and quickly leads into a battle between him and the series’ protagonist, there exists a real, tangible discussion about Japanese criminal justice thanks to his character. An analysis of Japan’s criminal legal system reveals the startling accuracy of Higuruma’s struggles, as well as the need for reform more generally.
An infamous but relevant statistic of the Japanese criminal justice system is its unusually high conviction rate. An article by J. Mark Ramseyer and Eric B. Rasmusen explores the causes of Japan’s conviction rate of over 99%, which was (at the time of writing) over 10% higher than countries like the United States. One explanation centers on how Japanese judges are incentivized to convict defendants. Ramseyer and Rasmusen find Japanese judges who see their careers suffer as a result, though many of these judges are acquitted not based on the innocence of a defendant but instead the application of constitutional and statutory law to criminally–charged cases. A more likely answer for the conviction rate, Ramseyer and Rasmusen posit, is case selection bias. To grapple with small budgets, Japanese prosecutors typically dedicate their time to cases they are certain they will win. Indeed, in “Jujutsu Kaisen,” many of the clients defended by Higuruma were innocent yet deeply suspicious individuals with nigh insurmountable evidence against them.
Yet the situation is not as simple as suspicious suspects being targeted and convicted. Ito Kazuko, a Japanese lawyer, explores wrongful conviction in Japan through the lens of judicial-prosecutorial relations and structural imbalances in the criminal law system. Judges and prosecutors are intimately connected in Japan, she argues; they often exchange personnel and judges occasionally become prosecutors for the Ministry of Justice. Some critics point to this relationship as proof judges are biased toward a prosecutors’ arguments over defendants’ or their attorneys’. Structural problems identified by Kazuko include weekslong interrogations with no Miranda warning or defense attorney present, frequent police misconduct, the reliance of self-incriminating (sometimes coerced) statements as evidence and a lack of transparent disclosure to defendants.
Prosecutors do not, of course, bear all of the responsibility for the unfair outcomes and practices of criminal cases. David T. Johnson argues “deferent judges” and “passive attorneys” enable the perpetuation of the country’s elevated conviction rate. Though Johnson acknowledges there are structural issues behind their reticence for stronger advocacy, he also believes “cultural obstacles” play a role in the system. Johnson does not precisely explain the role of Japanese culture in the passivity of judges and attorneys, though he speculates the criminal justice system has a socializing effect on its actors, thereby leading defense attorneys to familiarize themselves with inaction.
Regardless of if it stems from careerist judges, underfunded prosecutors, compliant attorneys, or the system writ large, Japan’s conviction rate remains at 99.8% as of 2023, as observed by Yoshiyuki Nishi. What steps, then, are there to reform? Kohei Nakabo and Yohei Suda believe reform should begin with attorneys themselves. They take a cultural approach to reform, in which defense attorneys should be encouraged to more assertively advocate for their clients. An overhaul of legal education and attorney training would be one means of adjusting attitudes, Nakabo and Suda claim. They also propose some reforms of the systems discussed by Kazuko. Though their suggestions remain largely untaken, they offer at least one option to criminal fairness in Japan.
After his defeat, Higuruma reflects on his career and his temporary shift toward darkness and neurosis. His loss does not mark a change in Japanese criminal justice, nor the freedom of his clients. Yet he is reminded why he became a lawyer in the first place - to find humanity in the suspected and the scorned. Perhaps, then, a reformist’s aim is the same as an attorney’s: to find brightness in a murky legal system and to advocate as best as possible for its reform.
