TokyoDev

Should Software Developers Take the JLPT?

2026-06-22T14:57:03+09:00

The JLPT has always been a hot topic among international residents in Japan. Many, including myself, have questioned if it’s a) worth taking and b) actually a decent indication of Japanese proficiency.

In the past few months, the test has gained even more attention thanks to changes to immigration laws, most notably new language requirements for certain visas. There’s been a lot of confusion about those changes, along with the usual speculation and fearmongering.

Even with the new laws passed, it’s a bit too early to tell exactly how they’ll affect us international residents working in Japan—software developers in particular.

I think this is a good time to step back and take a look at the JLPT from a more grounded perspective. What are the proven benefits of taking and passing the JLPT? Who would actually find it helpful, and who would find it to be a waste of time?

I took the N1 in 2017, a few years after starting my career in Japan. Although I didn’t exactly enjoy the process, I’m glad I took the test, because it actually did benefit me in ways I didn’t expect.

At the same time, plenty of my friends and colleagues in Japan have never taken the test and have still built perfectly successful careers without it. So whether it’s worth your time just depends on your priorities. If you’re on the fence, I hope this article can serve as a reference and help you decide.

What is the JLPT?
The alternatives
The benefits of passing the JLPT
So should you take the JLPT?

What is the JLPT?

The JLPT (Japanese Language Proficiency Test) was introduced in 1984 and is administered by the government-affiliated Japan Foundation and JEES. It’s by far the oldest and best-known standardized Japanese test and, for better or worse, it’s become the most popular benchmark for measuring Japanese ability.

Of the five different levels ranging from N5 (easiest) to N1 (most difficult), N2 and N1 are considered the most useful to have as they indicate business-level fluency.

The test has had some minor revisions over the years, but what hasn’t changed is that it tests the following skills via multiple-choice questions:

Vocabulary, grammar, and kanji recognition
Reading
Listening

The JLPT only examines passive skills. There are no writing or speaking sections where test-takers actually produce Japanese.

This makes sense given the logistics: over one million people take the test each year. It would be unrealistic to add reading and writing sections that require human review, without drastically raising the costs of running the test.

Many people (including myself!) don’t believe the JLPT is a great reflection of “real-time” communication skills. It’s not terribly uncommon for people to pass the N1 with flying colors and still struggle with actual conversations.

The alternatives

That being said, there isn’t really a perfect alternative. The Business Japanese Test (BJT) is another well-known test that some employers recognize, but like the JLPT, it only tests passive skills.

The TOPJ is a newer exam that focuses more on practical skills, and is even recognized by the Japanese government. Unfortunately, it’s only available in a few countries in Asia and isn’t nearly as recognized by employers in Japan.

The Praxis and OPI are two well-established tests that actually measure speaking skills, but they’re only used in the US for certifying World Language teachers, and are completely unknown in Japan.

Among employers and recruiters in Japan, the JLPT is and will likely continue to be the most recognizable test for the foreseeable future. Lots of companies mention it in their job descriptions, with PayPay, Money Forward, and Cybozu being some notable examples.

Side note: The Common European Framework of Reference for Languages has gained more traction in recent years, with some companies listing B2 or C1 as the preferred levels for positions that require business-level Japanese.

The benefits of passing the JLPT

Whether you like the test or not, there are definitely incentives for certain people to take it. I tend to consider these benefits in three different categories.

The concrete benefits

The JLPT website has a comprehensive list of all the official benefits. Some notable ones are:

It gets you on the fast track to permanent residency. Passing the N2 or N1 gets you 10 points or 15 points respectively when applying via the Highly Skilled Professional (HSP) path.
International students enrolling in Japanese universities are usually required to take the Exam for Japanese University Admission, but certain universities waive this for N1 holders.
For aspiring medical professionals (doctors, dentists, nurses, pharmacists), the N1 is required to take the licensing exams.

Most of these probably aren’t that relevant if you’re reading this article, with the exception of permanent residency, which is a huge perk if you’re planning to stay in Japan long term. The standard permanent residence application requires you to live in Japan for 10 consecutive years, but there are ways to bypass that and apply much sooner.

During my fifth year in Japan, I looked up the requirements for permanent residency out of curiosity. I didn’t actually think I would be eligible, but I was surprised to find that I had just enough points to hit the 70-point threshold needed to apply via HSP. This was thanks to the big 15-point boost from having the N1.

I wouldn’t have been eligible had I not gritted my teeth and taken the test a few years beforehand. My case was a lucky accident, but if you’re considering getting permanent residence in the future, check how many points you have. If you find you’re only 10 to 15 points away, think about what else you can do to get more points. If passing the JLPT seems like the most reasonable way to do it, then it might be worth considering.

The uncertain benefits

Passing the N2 or N1 may help you get a job that requires Japanese proficiency.

. . . That’s pretty much it. This is where the JLPT’s usefulness becomes an endless debate. It can make your resume stand out, and “I passed the N1” might look more convincing than just writing “I’m fluent” or “I’m business level” on your resume.

I myself did take the N1 in preparation for a job hunt. Before I worked in tech, I was looking for jobs that required Japanese, like project management and translation. I figured that having a JLPT certification would help, so I begrudgingly studied for it and eventually slapped it on my resume.

Did it actually help me land my next job? To this day, I honestly don’t know. I applied for as many jobs as I could find, and got plenty of rejections. The job I ended up getting was a translation position, and the job description asked for N2-level proficiency or above.

When I applied, they gave me an actual translation and interpretation test. Not once was my JLPT certificate mentioned. Maybe having the N1 made my application stand out in the beginning, but I can’t say that with absolute certainty.

After joining the team, I found that some of my teammates had the N1, some had the N2, and some had none. So my answer to “Did it help?” is still a resounding “Maybe!”

Some companies may use application tracking systems that scan for keywords like “JLPT,” “N1,” and “N2.” For big companies that receive a lot of applicants, having a JLPT certification can make your application stand out a little more from the rest, and help you get to the interview stage where you can actually prove your ability to communicate in Japanese. But at the end of the day, it’s completely dependent on the individual company.

In extreme cases, a company or recruiter might completely reject candidates simply because they aren’t N1-certified. This did actually happen to a fellow TokyoDev contributor who applied for tech positions while attending a language school.

But it’s also likely that companies interested in you will reach out for an interview first and simply use that to gauge your language skills.

When preparing your resume, there are a number of different language proficiency metrics that you can use other than the JLPT. If you haven’t taken the exam, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with putting “business level” or “CEFR B2” on your resume instead. That should be enough for most employers to recognize that you’re a Japanese-speaking candidate.

It’s best to think of the JLPT like any other kind of industry-recognized certification. Just like a Kubernetes or AWS certificate, it may boost your resume and make you stand out a bit, but it’s almost never strictly necessary.

This is why I personally don’t think “It’ll help me get a job” is the best reason to take the JLPT if you’re still on the fence. I believe that the following section is the one that actually matters the most.

The intangible benefits

There are several reasons to take the JLPT that, while not delivering any measurable advantage, can still improve your life.

When you sign up for the test, you’ll have a specific goal with a concrete deadline.
You’ll feel accomplished and proud of yourself after passing a genuinely difficult exam.
Your Japanese will improve!

Simple enough, right? These sound really obvious but I think all of them—especially the first point—are really undervalued. This is because intermediate and advanced Japanese learners are very likely to hit a plateau, where they either feel like they aren’t improving, or they get too complacent at their current level.

The intermediate plateau is a real, documented phenomenon in language learning, and I myself was stuck there for a long time. After I moved to Japan and got settled, I reached a point where I felt that my Japanese was good enough to get by and handle most things at my job. But since there wasn’t any pressure to keep improving, I lost all motivation and my Japanese completely stagnated for years.

An embarrassingly long time later, I signed up for the JLPT. That finally gave me some much-needed pressure and got me out of my comfort zone, back to actively studying again.

As mentioned earlier, the JLPT gets a lot of well-deserved criticism for being a highly academic test. It only tests passive skills, and sometimes covers obscure vocabulary and grammar that aren’t common in daily life. So if your goal is strictly to learn conversational skills, this is definitely not the test for you. You’d be much better off spending your time and energy making friends and learning through immersion.

On the other hand, if your goal is to learn more academic Japanese, improve your reading skills, and learn things you wouldn’t pick up during your usual routine, then the JLPT might be exactly what you need. I personally noticed that after moving to Japan, my speaking skills increased dramatically through natural exposure, but my reading skills lagged behind. Signing up for the N1 forced me to practice reading way more than before, and I finally started to improve thanks to that.

The JLPT website includes data about the applicants’ reasons for taking the test. Interestingly, the number one reason was “To measure my own level of proficiency” (33.2%), followed by “Useful for employment in my own country” (23.1%) and “Useful for employment in Japan” (10.3%).

While the data is a bit old and certainly not definitive, I do think that those who chose “To measure my own level of proficiency” had the right idea. As a Japanese learner, it’s best to take the JLPT for your own sake rather than for someone else’s.

So should you take the JLPT?

If you’re interested in the JLPT for job-hunting purposes, then the answer depends on how much work experience you have. A N2 or N1 certificate is definitely nice to have on your resume, but studying for the test will take up your precious time, so consider the opportunity cost at your current career stage.

If you’re a well-established software developer with several years of experience, your limited time is likely better spent brushing up your technical skills and aiming for roles that don’t require high levels of Japanese. The latest TokyoDev Developer Survey notes that English-heavy roles often correlate with better conditions and pay, but they almost exclusively target experienced developers.

However, things change if you’re early in your career, as the survey results also indicate that entry-level roles almost universally require Japanese proficiency. Having a JLPT certificate doesn’t automatically mean fluency, but it could be the keyword that helps a company or recruiter notice you.

Outside of the job-hunting context, if you feel like your Japanese abilities are holding you back at work or in your daily life, focus on improving your conversational skills first. Learn through immersion, audio, TV shows, shadowing, and by actually meeting people in real life. The JLPT isn’t your top priority here and can happen later.

Finally, if you’re already an intermediate Japanese learner and genuinely want to challenge yourself, then yes, the test is absolutely worth your time. Do it for the love of learning Japanese, study hard, and give yourself a well-deserved pat on the back when you’re done.

What Inclusive Education Really Looks Like in Japan

2026-06-17T10:24:40+09:00

When my family moved from New Zealand to Japan a few years ago, one of my biggest concerns was how my neurodivergent daughter would be supported at school. Like many parents arriving from overseas, I wanted to know what support was available, how inclusive schools would be, and how we would navigate a completely unfamiliar system.

What I quickly discovered was that Japan’s approach to inclusive education looks quite different from what I was used to. At the time, neither my daughter nor I spoke much Japanese, which made understanding the system even more challenging. There were new terms to learn and plenty of uncertainty about what support was actually available.

One of the biggest surprises was that there isn’t a single model of inclusive education in Japan. Depending on a child’s needs, support can take several forms, including placement in a mainstream classroom, attendance at a support room, enrolment in a special support class, or education at a special needs school.

While the system is designed to offer a range of support options, experiences can vary considerably between municipalities and individual schools. This article draws on my family’s experience navigating Japan’s education system, along with research and conversations with other parents and educators, to explore how inclusive education works in practice and what families may encounter along the way.

What “inclusive education” means in Japan
What support actually looks like
Navigating support as a parent in Japan
The strengths of the Japanese system
Where the system struggles

What “inclusive education” means in Japan

After moving to Japan, I quickly realized that “inclusive education” here can feel quite different from what I knew in New Zealand.

Back home, inclusion is often centred around supporting children with different needs within the same classroom wherever possible. In Japan, support is more likely to be provided across a range of educational settings depending on a child’s needs. These can include mainstream classrooms, support rooms, special support classes, and special needs schools.

This approach has developed over several decades. In 2006, the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology codified equal opportunity in education including students with disabilities attending mainstream schools. Later policy changes, following Japan’s ratification of the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, placed greater emphasis on educating children with and without disabilities together whenever possible.

Even with these recent developments, the overall philosophy can feel quite different from systems in countries such as New Zealand, Australia, the UK, and the United States. Grasping the differences helped me better comprehend the options available for my own daughter.

What support actually looks like

Understanding inclusive education in Japan became much easier once I saw how support worked inside my daughter’s classroom.

Much of the support children receive is built into classroom routines and teacher relationships rather than formal accommodations, individualized education plans, or the one-on-one classroom support that many international parents may be familiar with.

That said, I quickly learned that support often depends on the individual teacher. Most classroom teachers are not special education specialists, and they are balancing the needs of an entire class. Some are incredibly proactive and flexible, while others may have less experience or confidence supporting neurodivergent students. This can make the experience of inclusive education look quite different from one classroom to another.

A classroom built around the group

One of the biggest adjustments for my daughter was adapting to the group-oriented nature of Japanese elementary schools. Homeroom classes typically have 30 or more students in them. The school day follows a highly predictable rhythm, and children are generally expected to move through their classes and activities with their homeroom class, rather than splitting up to go to classes with students from other homerooms.

A typical day may include:

Arriving, unpacking and preparing for class together
Morning greetings and classroom announcements
Group-based lessons
School lunch eaten together in the classroom
Cleaning the classroom and hallways in teams with members of their homeroom
Rotating classroom jobs and shared responsibilities
Assemblies, seasonal events, and sports day practice

For my daughter, this structure was both helpful and challenging. Initially, she found the support from her classmates welcoming. Students are encouraged to help each other from a young age, whether that means reminding a classmate where to stand, when to prepare their notebook, or how to organize their supplies.

Over time, however, the constant monitoring and correction from peers became increasingly frustrating for her. The strong focus on collective behaviour can make differences highly visible, and children who struggle with routines, transitions, or social expectations are often corrected first by classmates rather than adults.

I often describe it as, “The nail that sticks out starts meeting little hammers from first grade.”

Formal support inside mainstream schools

Support inside mainstream schools can look quite different depending on the school, municipality, and individual child.

Access typically begins through discussions between parents, teachers, and the local board of education. While a formal diagnosis is not always required, schools often consider reports from specialists or clinics when determining eligibility and support levels. One aspect I have found uncomfortable is the school’s repeated requests for updates about any medication my daughter takes in relation to her diagnosis. This can present culture shock for international parents from countries where medical privacy is much stronger. Japanese schools often request this information to fulfill their responsibilities under the School Health and Safety Act to be aware of potential side effects.

Accommodations

While some support is formal, many accommodations are relatively small and are worked out between families, teachers, and schools. This might include visual schedules, extra time during transitions, or adjustments to workload expectations.

For my daughter, one of the most helpful adjustments has been being allowed to wear noise-cancelling headphones when the classroom becomes too loud.

Support room sessions

One form of support available at most schools in Japan is tsuukyuu (通級), often translated as either “resource room” or “support room.”

Support rooms are designed for students who are enrolled in mainstream classes but benefit from additional support in specific areas. Children usually remain in their regular homeroom class and leave for specialized sessions at set times during the week, depending on their needs.

During these sessions, children may leave class several times a week for individual or small-group support focused on areas such as:

Literacy and learning support
Social communication
Emotional regulation
Speech and language support
Behavioural strategies
Study and organisation skills

Special support class

Children who need more consistent assistance may spend part or most of the school day in a tokubetsu shien gakkyuu or “special support class,” usually located within the same school.

These classes typically have around eight students and one dedicated teacher with special training, allowing for a more structured learning environment and greater teaching flexibility. Compared to support rooms, they provide more consistent support throughout the school day.

For our family, the special support class has been the best fit. When we first arrived in Japan, the smaller classroom environment gave my daughter space to adjust without the pressure and sensory demands of a class of more than 30 students.

Students may move between the special support class and mainstream activities depending on the subject, activity, or level of support required.

Special needs schools

As we explored the different support options available in Japan, special needs schools were also part of the conversation. For many families, deciding between mainstream education, a special support class, or a special needs school can be one of the most significant decisions they face.

For children with more significant physical, intellectual, medical, or developmental support needs, special needs schools can provide supportive educational environments from elementary school through to high school. They typically have smaller class sizes, specialized teachers, adapted facilities, and access to additional services, with a strong focus on communication, accessibility, and individual needs.

Whether a special needs school is the right fit depends on the child and their circumstances. While some families worry about separation from mainstream peers, others find that the smaller classes and specialized support allow their child to thrive in ways that may be more difficult in a larger school setting.

After seeing the system in practice, I now realize that inclusive education in Japan is often viewed as a spectrum rather than a single placement. As a child’s needs change, they may move between different forms of support over time.

The central role of the homeroom teacher

If there’s one person who shapes a child’s daily experience at school, it’s the homeroom teacher.

When we first started navigating the Japanese school system, I was surprised by just how much responsibility homeroom teachers have. In elementary school, they do far more than teach academics. They oversee classroom routines, behaviour, student wellbeing, and communication with parents. Because they spend so much time with the same group of children, they often notice changes in behaviour, friendships, participation, or academic progress long before concerns are formally raised.

In our experience, the support a child receives can vary quite a bit from one teacher to the next.

We’ve had teachers who were willing to try different approaches, such as creating a quiet space where my daughter could take a break when she felt overwhelmed. We’ve also had teachers who were more focused on maintaining classroom routines and expectations, with less room for individual adjustments.

I’ve come to appreciate how much teachers are balancing behind the scenes. The level of support they can provide often depends on their experience, training, and workload. Managing a large class while trying to meet the needs of individual students is no small task.

Navigating support as a parent in Japan

Finding the right support for my daughter was not always straightforward. In Japan, access to support can vary depending on local resources and often comes down to the relationships built between families and educators.

Understanding placement pathways

Before my daughter enrolled in elementary school, we met with the school to discuss her needs and explore the support options available. Having those conversations early allowed us to share our perspective and have a more collaborative discussion before any decisions were made.

For families of children with physical, developmental, or higher support needs, these conversations frequently begin well before entering elementary school. Many municipalities conduct school placement consultations (就学相談, shuugaku soudan) during the preschool years.

The consultations may involve developmental assessments, interviews with parents, observations in kindergarten or daycare settings, and meetings with specialists. The goal is to determine which educational environment may best support a child as they enter compulsory education.

While boards of education make the formal recommendations, parents are usually involved throughout the process with a goal of reaching an amicable consensus. This includes discussing concerns, sharing preferences, and considering longer-term goals for their child’s education.

Recognising when a school is raising concerns

As a parent and an autistic person, I’ve sometimes found it difficult to recognize when a school is trying to raise concerns. Japanese language and culture favor high context, indirect communication, and I have sometimes found it difficult to read between the lines.

Rather than making immediate formal referrals, teachers may gradually hint at difficulties through comments about a child appearing “tired,” struggling to “keep up with the group,” or finding certain activities challenging. These conversations often take place through communication notebooks (連絡帳, renrakuchou) that the student passes between the teacher and parents, parent-teacher meetings, or informal discussions.

For parents unfamiliar with Japanese communication styles, these cues can be easy to miss. What sounds like a casual observation may actually be a gentle suggestion that additional support or assessment could help.

Over time, I’ve found it helpful to ask direct questions and request meetings when I need clarification, rather than waiting for the school to initiate further discussions. This process can continue throughout elementary, junior high, and high school as academic expectations, social demands, and classroom environments change.

The strengths of the Japanese system

From my perspective as a parent, Japan’s inclusive education system today offers far more support options than many people realize. While there are still challenges, particularly when it comes to consistency between schools and municipalities, there are now more pathways available for children with different support needs to participate in education alongside their peers.

Expansion of mainstream support

The availability of support within mainstream schools has expanded considerably in recent years. Support rooms in particular have become increasingly common. According to MEXT, nearly 200,000 students nationwide received support room instruction in 2022, with support rooms available in almost 80% of public elementary schools.

Support structures have also become more flexible than in previous decades. Rather than following a single educational pathway, students may move between different levels of support as their needs change over time.

For many families, these changes are a welcome development. While navigating the system can still be challenging, there are now more options available than there were in the past.

Improving accessibility

Physical accessibility within schools has also improved steadily since Japan ratified the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD) in 2014 and strengthened domestic disability discrimination legislation.

According to recent Ministry of Education data:

Approximately 85% of public elementary and junior high school buildings are now step-free from the school gate to the main building.
Accessible toilets have expanded significantly nationwide.
Elevators and barrier-free classroom access points have increased, particularly in newer or renovated school facilities.

While physical accessibility is only one part of inclusion, these improvements have helped make schools more accessible for students with physical disabilities and mobility needs. For families navigating the education system, they are also a reminder that support in Japan continues to evolve, even if progress is not always uniform across every school or municipality.

Growing recognition of neurodiversity

As a parent of a neurodivergent child, it’s encouraging to see a growing awareness of developmental differences. Conversations around developmental disabilities, refusal to attend school, and student mental health are far more visible in Japan today than they were in the past.

Schools are increasingly recognising sensory sensitivities, emotional regulation difficulties, and learning differences as support needs rather than simply behavioural problems. Public discussion around students who refuse to attend school has also helped widen understanding that traditional classroom environments do not work equally well for every student.

As a result, schools and municipalities have gradually expanded access to:

School counselling services
Special support staffing
Support rooms
Alternative learning and remote education options

Improving coordinated support systems

From our experience, support tends to work best when schools, families, and outside specialists are all working together.

Each year, our school asks about my daughter’s strengths, goals, and areas where she may need additional support, with regular parent-teacher meetings helping to keep everyone on the same page.

We’ve also worked with the school through medication changes and periods when adjustments to workload or classroom expectations were needed. While support systems are not always as formalized as the IEP frameworks used in some Western countries, collaboration between schools, families, and specialists is becoming increasingly common.

Shifting educational attitudes

Japan’s schools are facing increasing staffing shortages and workload pressures, and when difficulties have arisen, we’ve usually found they stem from these systemic challenges rather than a lack of willingness to support our daughter. Many teachers are supportive of inclusive education in principle, but don’t always have the resources or training needed to fully put it into practice.

Where the system struggles

The structure and predictability of the school day has at times been comforting for my daughter, but there are also moments when she feels overwhelmed by the strong emphasis on group-based activities. Japan’s education system offers a lot of stability, but its reliance on collective routines and expectations can place significant pressure on children to constantly keep up with others.

Chronic masking and emotional exhaustion

Many autistic children, as well as students with ADHD, anxiety, or sensory sensitivities, spend the school day masking distress to avoid drawing attention to themselves. On the surface, they may appear calm and cooperative, while internally dealing with noise, fatigue, or emotional overwhelm.

While we’ve had some very attentive teachers who notice these subtle signs, this isn’t always consistent, and children who need extra support can sometimes go unnoticed.

For foreign children like ours, social inclusion can be particularly complex. There can be a strong desire to connect and belong culturally and socially, while still navigating differences in communication style, language, and individual needs.

Being placed in a mainstream classroom does not always translate into genuine social belonging. Some neurodivergent students continue to experience subtle exclusion during lunchtime, recess, group work, or other unstructured social situations, even while participating academically alongside their peers.

Neurodivergence can add another layer of complexity. Many neurodivergent children find it more difficult to interpret nonverbal communication and high-context social cues, both of which play an important role in Japanese social interactions. As a result, Japanese neurodivergent children may struggle to integrate socially, and this is often even more true for those also navigating cultural and linguistic differences.

The emphasis on moving together as a group can also make children who communicate differently or struggle socially more visible within the classroom dynamic. For many parents, watching a child be physically present in the class community, but not fully included socially, can be one of the most difficult parts of the experience.

The challenge of parent advocacy

I’ve found it genuinely difficult at times to advocate for my daughter, partly because of the language barrier, but also because I’ve often been unsure about cultural expectations and how far it is appropriate to push or question things within the school system.

There’s also an underlying worry about being seen as “too much” or overly demanding. I have a lot of respect for the teachers who support my children, and I’m very aware that they are managing large workloads and complex classrooms. At the same time, I’ve learned that teachers can’t always see everything happening at home, so parental input really matters.

For international families especially, figuring out how to speak up in a way that feels both respectful and effective can take time.I still find this difficult myself.

One strategy that helps is rehearsing what I want to say before meetings or conversations with teachers. Taking time to organize my thoughts beforehand helps me communicate more clearly and feel more confident advocating for my child.

Even so, it’s a skill I’m still learning, and one that gets a little easier with practice.

Conclusion

For me, inclusive education in Japan has never felt like something I could easily categorize as effective or ineffective. It has been a mix of really positive experiences alongside moments where things have felt more challenging.

What I’ve come to understand is that a lot of what a child receives day to day comes down to capacity rather than intention.

There are parts of the school day that genuinely work well for my daughter. The structure and predictability can be grounding for her. At the same time, there are also days when the demands of group-based learning or the pace of the classroom leave her feeling overwhelmed.

More than anything, I’ve realized that understanding how the system works doesn’t come from reading policy documents, but from everyday communication with the school and learning, over time, how things operate in practice. It is still a system that is evolving, and for families like ours, it often feels like something you learn to navigate gradually, rather than something you can fully understand from the beginning.

Buying and renovating a 40-year-old Japanese house

2026-06-10T10:21:54+09:00

Japan is a dream destination for many. Combine the ever-weakening yen (1 USD cost 108 yen to just before the Covid-19 pandemic, compared to 160 yen in June 2026) with tales of cheap or free homes, and Japan looks more attractive than ever.

I’ve rented for two decades in Japan and had a few weeks of being homeless in 2020, so the idea of owning my own home for the rest of my life was thrilling.

I bought my house in early 2024. It was an akiya—an abandoned home. There’s a lot of buzz around akiya being amazing finds or nearly-free homes, but the reality is that you generally get what you pay for, and there are reasons for prices being what they are. In my case, even though I went into the purchase having done a year of research, there were still a lot of basic issues in the first year that cost me a lot of money I hadn’t been planning to spend.

If I hadn’t been persistent, and if I hadn’t been a relatively fluent Japanese speaker, I would have been up the proverbial creek. I hope my story helps you if you’re considering purchasing a cheap, used house in Japan.

Finding my house
Finally getting a home loan
Initial renovations with bridge financing
More necessary renovations out of pocket
Did I buy a lemon?
Small personalizations
The next step: Major interior renovations
Future plans
Are used homes in Japan worth it?

Finding my house

I wanted to live in a detached home with my dogs, and knew that the clock was ticking as I’d be turning 40 in a few years.

Since the longest loan period is often 35 years, 40 is a milestone age for banks. I’d already secured my permanent residence in preparation for applying for a mortgage, as it is often the sine qua non of any loan application submitted by an international resident.

It’s also very difficult to find rental properties that allow multiple dogs. After paying nearly a million yen in fees to renew my two-year lease, I was determined that any future payments would instead go directly to a property of my own as an investment, not to a landlord.

What were my primary criteria?

I wanted to buy a home for potentially the rest of my life, so I knew it had to be stable and safe. I could—and later actually did—change the other criteria I had, but I didn’t want to be in a building that could collapse on me or my dogs. This was a very real fear for me since I was here for the March 2011 Tohoku Earthquake.

In Japan, the building codes and the quality of materials used in homes have changed a lot in the post-war years. It is important to understand when Japan introduced various standards that you may take for granted in your own country, so that you understand what you may be getting into when you buy a home of a certain age.

For each of the years listed below, there is a little wiggle room in either direction. In the case of the 1981 earthquake standards, a home in development may have been approved according to the old standards in 1980, but actually completed in 1981. Or it can go the other way around—a builder may have heard of the new standards in 1980 and decided to adhere to them ahead of time.

These are some milestones I kept in mind while looking for homes.

1981: New Earthquake Resistant Construction Standards (新耐震基準, Shin Taishin Kijun). Homes constructed after June 1, 1981 are required to resist a Shindo 6 or 7 earthquake. I considered this an inviolable, baseline requirement for any home I looked at for two reasons.

Safety: I was here for the Tohoku quake on March 11, 2011, so this was a fundamental requirement in my mind for myself and anyone else in my home.
Finances: It is extremely difficult to get a mortgage for a building that does not conform with these construction standards. There are exceptions, such as older buildings that have undergone inspection to ensure that they conform (whether through original design quality or later renovations), but those are few enough that I didn’t worry about them.

1999: Energy Conservation Standards (次世代省エネルギー基準, Jisedai Shou-enerugi- Kijun). The government introduced a standard ranking system for home energy efficiency that promoted—but did not mandate—more efficient wall insulation and double-glazed windows.

2000: New Earthquake Resistant Construction Standards enhancements. After the disastrous Kobe earthquake in 1995, the Japanese government further enhanced the 1981 earthquake standards with a requirement that wood-frame homes must have joints reinforced with metal. This does not mean that all homes before this point were lacking metal joint reinforcement, but rather that it became mandatory from this year forward.

I personally stopped there as I knew I would not be able to afford a house built after 2000 that still met my other requirements, but some other useful years to keep in mind are 2003 (asbestos banned in siding and roofing materials) and 2006 (a general ban on asbestos in materials used to create homes).

In my case, because my home was built before asbestos was completely banned, I had to have multiple asbestos tests before work could be done on it. I’m also looking at a hefty bill to add inner windows to improve insulation efficiency and general comfort.

These were trade-offs I knew I would have to make to find a home with a lower up-front price that I could afford.

How did I start searching?

Japan’s generous loans (5–7x salary on average), longer terms (35 years is common for people under 40), and lower interest rates (often under 1%) gave me a rough idea of how much I thought I could ask for in a loan, and the possibilities were blinding—a custom home molded to suit my lifestyle. I’d also been bitten by the Instagram bug, and hoped to be able to get a traditional-looking property that I could renovate to a modern fusion style, which would be fun to show off.

I also knew that I wanted a larger home so that friends and family could visit me. This meant that Tokyo was out of the question due to the price of land alone. Even the nearby cities or suburbs were prohibitively expensive for me.

I work remotely, so rather than restricting myself to any particular area, I searched all over Japan, from Makurazaki to Memanbetsu, for over a year with a list of requirements and nice-to-haves. Cities like Fukuoka and Sendai were especially attractive, as they seemed to be a happy medium where I wouldn’t be completely isolated, but could still potentially afford property.

I built up a list of criteria similar to how I’d searched for apartments. Some criteria were simple to filter for on sites like Summo, but others were much more difficult. I would have to look up many of them manually on my own for each property I was interested in. This was tougher than it sounds as it’s not common to include addresses on listings. I spent way too much time using pictures of the house along with details about nearby stores to find the actual address on Google Maps.

Once I had the address, I could start checking my criteria and filling out my spreadsheet. Some of the simpler ones were things like the availability of gigabit fiber to the premises and online grocery store delivery areas. Other items, like highly-rated, well-equipped animal hospitals within a 15-minute walk, were more time-consuming to research and verify.

I had to do this myself, because realtors don’t have databases with this type of information and specialize in specific areas rather than “anywhere in Japan.” After around a year of searching, I had managed to fill a spreadsheet with only 70 properties that I was happy with.

Initial hopes

Kanazawa seemed to meet many of my basic hopes: a city large enough to have not only history and culture, but also modern broadband and easy access to daily necessities.

I connected with a renovation company in Kanazawa and gave them my list of prospects. Because of the distance, they visited each one for me and assessed not only the land and building, but also the roads leading to those buildings.

The properties I had originally shortlisted had issues with road access, but the renovation company found another property that was a compromise. The house was smaller than I wanted, and the vet was a bit farther away and seemed financially unstable. There was also no easy access to food in the area, but I imagined various solutions: I could take taxis somewhere, I could put my family up in hotels nearby, other things will pop up because it’s a city, etc.

An unforeseen hurdle

Then we got stalled in the banking processes as I found out that my disability prevented me from being able to enroll in the mandatory life insurance policies for each group, which stopped me from even being considered for loans.

We shopped around at two national banks and three regional banks, and got the same response from all of them: my disability effectively prevented me from getting a normal home loan.

I was expecting many hurdles in the process, but not this one.

The president of the renovation company worked with me for a few months, but my hopes kept falling lower and lower until January 1, 2024, and the Noto Peninsula Earthquake.

I was shocked at the damage, especially after seeing the area I had been planning to live in. There was no flooding and nobody died in that area, but many of the homes were irreparable.

After some time, the renovation company and I resumed talks, but I realized I was compromising too much to be happy with the price. I told the renovation company that I appreciated all of the work they had put in for me, but it seemed unlikely that I would get a loan, and also that there were too many issues for me to feel comfortable with the decision.

I was also becoming nervous about developments in the job market and wasn’t sure that remote work would be feasible going forward, so I wanted to try to stay within an hour of a major metropolis by normal train to hedge my bets. While I’m used to relocating for work, that would become more difficult after I became a homeowner!

I went on to visit four other properties around the greater Tokyo metropolitan area, and was fairly unhappy with all of them. I was also now forewarned with the knowledge that my disability represented a large hurdle to the process of securing a mortgage, so I explicitly listed that up front when starting talks with realtors. They all assured me that there would be no problem with the bank they worked with, especially with my salary as a software engineer.

Reader, there were problems.

Whenever we approached the mortgage application phase, each bank would walk me through the process and then balk when they learned about my disability. The realtors each admitted that they’d never actually helped someone with a disability get a loan, or perhaps had helped only people who got the loan under a spouse or family member’s name instead.

This meant that I had to set my sights much lower than the initial figure of 5–7x my salary I had been hoping for. I turned to the bottom end of my spreadsheet, where I had listed much cheaper “just in case” properties.

An abandoned home in the countryside

Toward the bottom of my list, one of my last choices was a home in the countryside. Its owners had passed away some time ago and the people who had inherited it had no interest in living in it, so they had sold it to a renovation company.

Yes, it was one of those akiya that shows up on social media frequently for being a “hidden gem.”

The town it was in was quite small and shrinking rapidly—it had only one clinic, no optometrist or dermatologist, and had closed two elementary schools two years ago. Never a good sign! I was worried about the clinic in particular when I asked around and found out that it was staffed by a single man in his 80s.

On the other hand, the town offered cash incentives for people to move in, and additional cash incentives for remote workers. The location of the town wasn’t amazing, nor was it even at least good. A lucky train would get me to the outskirts of Tokyo in what I considered a long but mostly bearable commute, but an unlucky train would involve a number of transfers that would almost double that time. Also, if I called a taxi, I’d have a smooth trip to the airport on some back roads with no traffic.

In hindsight, I was a bit optimistic about being able to call a taxi and get somewhere. The single taxi company in my town shut down shortly before I moved in, acutely highlighting the risks of moving to an area with shrinking infrastructure.

Initial pros and cons

I visited the property and did not have a great first impression. It was in a standard Japanese suburban neighborhood with houses plunked right next to each other, blocking any view of real nature despite the giant swaths of rice fields near the house.

There were no restaurants. The grocery store was a 20 minute walk away, while the train station was even farther still. The town was distant from everything, and the property was quite a ways from the town itself.

However, the property was right next to an intersection that had stores I could use for everyday stuff, and there was a highly-rated vet within a walkable distance. That was enough for me to forgive the location issues. I was very aware at this point that beggars can’t be choosers.

The house itself wasn’t extremely appealing to me. It lacked any of the traditional Japanese feel that I had been dreaming about and instead looked like any other uninspiring beige building plucked out of early 80s Japan.

The house's exterior.

The floor plan.

The house was very roomy, with a large living area on both the first and second floor. The seller had recently renovated the entire house with new wallpaper, cleaned up the window sills and doors with new vinyl sheets, and laid new vinyl sheet flooring. They had also added an impressively large, brand-new bath room. It even had one of the items from my wish list: a big second-floor room that I could spend most of my time in with my dogs.

The entrance hall.

The upstairs living room.

The kitchen.

The bathroom.

The downside was that I could see that the renovation that the seller had done was fairly cheap. There were still signs of water damage on some spots of the ceiling, a lack of attention to detail in the window sills where old, water damaged wood was showing through, and uneven wallpaper where the contractors hadn’t bothered to tear off the old paper cleanly or apply putty for even, smooth adhesion.

The exterior had issues, too: the retaining wall was in terrible condition and the yard was home to a pile of shrubbery and leftover construction materials that I was warned may be home to snakes.

Even so, I felt like I was at the end of my rope and that, while not perfect, the house met enough of my basic requirements that I could improve it over time. It was clear that I would not be able to afford to bring in a renovation company to redo everything before I moved in, so I spent a few weeks looking into costs and staging everything mentally, to get a feel for a renovation timeline that I could pay for myself while also living in the house.

One big factor in my eventual decision to buy was that the house was outfitted with modern solar panels and a battery installed sometime in the last decade—something that I knew could cost anything from 2,000,000 to 3,500,000 yen.

I’d always wanted to have solar panels, and battery installations are still somewhat rare. This meant that in the summer, my air conditioning costs would be largely offset by the daytime sun, and I wouldn’t even have to pay for the solar panel installation! I did know that I would have to buy a new battery at some point (for the princely sum of around 1,000,000 yen), but that was Future Scott’s problem.

The price was fairly attractive too: I’d managed to haggle it down to just a bit over my annual salary because the house had been on the market for about a year, and everything that was unattractive about the house and location meant it would likely remain on the market.

I also knew property taxes would be relatively low due to not only the age of the building, but the unattractive location of the land itself. It turns out that they’re only around 70,000 yen per year!

One more deciding factor was that the company that had done the initial set of renovations was also the seller, and therefore was obligated to offer limited defect insurance (瑕疵保険, kashi hoken) under very strict conditions for the first year.

Finally getting a home loan

After deciding to purchase, I needed to find a way to finance everything, and found out about Flat 35 (フラット35) loans: home loans offered at a fixed (“flat”) interest rate for 35 years. They are heavily regulated and structured through oversight by the Japanese government, and offered by commercial banks and mortgage companies, so there is very little room for private institutions to add on their own restrictions.

The basic criteria for a Flat 35 loan are:

You must be a Japanese citizen, permanent resident, or special permanent resident under the age of 70.
Debt-to-income limits are 30% for incomes under 4 million yen, and 35% for incomes over 4 million yen.
Property requirements:
- The building must meet the basic requirements of the 1981 New Earthquake Resistant Construction Standards.
- The loan can only be used to purchase a residence for the borrower or their relatives; it cannot be used to purchase property that will be rented or leased in part or in whole.
- There are minimum floor area requirements based on the type of residence, such as 70 square meters for a detached home.

The catch is that as a fixed rate loan, Flat 35 interest rates are much higher than variable interest rate loans in Japan. Until recently, interest rates on mortgages in Japan tended to float under 1%, whereas the interest rate I eventually received on my Flat 35 loan is around 4.1%. Quite a substantial difference!

Another catch I personally ran into was that the loan product I was finally eligible for was structured in a confusing way. I had to take out multiple loans: one for the property itself, another to cover fees and handling, and still another to help pay for initial renovations. I hadn’t done enough research to learn about bridge financing (つなぎローン, tsunagi ro-n) and had naively assumed that one loan would cover everything!

I additionally found out that I was required to pay a lot of fees and a deposit up front in cash, though I was reassured that the loan would come in a month or two later and that the fees would come back to me. That put me in a tough spot as I was not especially liquid at the time.

One benefit of the Flat 35 is that, unlike some other mortgages, its terms and conditions require a baseline inspection of the property for general safety, earthquake resistance, and levelness. I felt that given the combination of this mini-inspection and the defect insurance, I could forgo an actual pre-purchase inspection and instead put that money toward the cash fees.

Buildings settle over time, and this one was no different. We found during the Flat 35 inspection that a part of the kitchen was less level than allowed. The seller paid out of pocket to have a carpenter come in and re-level the kitchen floor. Though in some ways this gave me even more confidence in my decision, it also made me uneasy as it was my first glimpse of hidden problems.

Despite all of those bumps in the road, I made it through the loan process for the first time and was told that I could receive all of those loans!

^What followed was an extremely hectic and confusing in-person meetup at a bank between the seller’s representative, the loan company’s representative, the realtor, the realtor’s manager, and me. I had assumed that it would be all electronic and that there would be some kind of escrow service, but that was not the case.

SMBC did not grant us an office, a counter space, or even waiting room space to conduct our transactions, but instead ushered us into a stairwell where we wouldn’t be a bother to the other customers. We filled out paper transfer forms by hand in triplicate (one for each party) and passed them around, stamping them as we verified that each one contained the correct amount and would be executed in the correct order: from the loan company to me, from me to the seller, and another from me to the realtor to cover handling fees, as well as one from the realtor to me to cover a refund of my deposit.

When we were satisfied, we all lined up at the counter (dutifully taking a ticket number) and waited for our turns to transfer the largest sum of money I had ever handled in my life.

Turning in the transfer applications ended up being anticlimactic. After each transfer, we all had to stand around for a few minutes reloading our bank applications on our phones to check that the money had arrived where it needed to go. Once we had verified the transfers, the seller handed me a paper envelope full of keys and we all went home.

I was finally a proud, confused, and very tired homeowner.

Initial renovations with bridge financing

My original renovation plan had two parts: some work would be done first by the realtor, and then later I would do additional renovations on my own timeline.

For the first part, I had managed to acquire a limited budget via the bridge financing, on the condition that the realtor oversee the process rather than me. That is, the realtor would “renovate” the property to meet my needs and then I would pay for it alongside my purchase.

The items I earmarked for this were ones that had an initial higher outlay, and that I also felt like I wouldn’t be able to coordinate on my own, but wanted done as soon as possible before I moved in:

Yard cleanup, including garbage disposal, leveling and drainage, artificial turf for the dogs, and gravel all around the house.
A small roof in the drive for my bicycle.

I decided on artificial turf for my yard because it’s notoriously difficult to maintain a consistent grass yard, but I knew I wanted something soft and grass-like for the dogs rather than rocks or dirt that would turn into a mess in the rainy season.

Also, remember how I mentioned that people suspected the pile of debris in the yard had snakes? It did: two vipers! Luckily, experienced tradespeople were handling them, instead of me walking around in shorts and sandals with a rake.

More necessary renovations out of pocket

My plan was to stage the rest of my renovations in chunks that made logical sense and also fit my finances, as I would need to pay in cash up front.

Shortly after I moved in, though, I found that I really needed some additional renovations. Unfortunately these weren’t covered under defect insurance, as I had acknowledged their current states when purchasing the property. Though I had somewhat anticipated these repairs, I thought I could put them off longer.

Work	Estimated Cost	Actual cost	Background
Retaining wall fixes	1,000,000 yen	700,000 yen	I knew the retaining wall and poor drainage were one cause of the house’s leveling issues, and wanted to make sure I got ahead of the curve in repairs. This felt like a fundamental longevity and safety issue, so I was happy to prioritize it first. It turned out to be simpler than we expected as the retaining wall wasn’t as bad as it looked, and didn’t contain any reinforcing rebar.
Front door replacement	500,000 yen	650,000 yen	The front door had terrible seals and was covered in little single-glazed glass windows that looked wonderful, but also made my hall extremely hot/cold. Additionally, while the home had been completely abandoned, vines had grown across and into the door, leaving unsightly, rusty holes.There were so many gaps and holes that I could stand in my hall and watch bugs just walk through my door at night! I wanted a door that would both not let outside air or water into my entrance hall, and looked nice and modern. The existing door was an outdated size, which meant that I had to choose between an expensive semi-custom door, or having the contractors do extra work to ensure that a modern door would fit seamlessly. In the end, I went with the latter solution: the contractors mounted a door that was slightly smaller than my existing one and added covers for the resulting gaps.
Corrugated plastic inner windows	100,000 yen	80,000 yen	I did some research and found that there’s plausible evidence that corrugated plastic inner windows are better than nothing for improving the insulation on single-glazed windows, so I hired a handyman to put them in the room I spent the most time in to reduce my heating/cooling costs and make things more comfortable for me and the dogs.
Dog fence/netting	50,000 yen	60,000 yen	I wanted some kind of fence and netting around the artificial turf in my yard so I could let the dogs run freely without being paranoid about them running away. Having a place for the dogs to play was a big part of my motivation to own the house, so I wanted to have this done early. One small catch was that there were fences bordering my yard that turned out to not be my fences, so the handyman had to go to each neighbor and ask permission to hang netting on the fence so that my dogs wouldn’t slip through the bars. Luckily, all of my neighbors agreed.
Privacy film application	50,000 yen	80,000 yen	I didn’t expect that the markup on privacy film from the tradespeople would be so high, so I bought it from Amazon myself and had them use it. The reason the cost ended up being higher than expected is that 80 square meters of film doesn’t necessarily fit 80 square meters of windows neatly.

Finding people to do the work

I’ll always happily tell anyone that I’m not a DIY guy. I’m not good with my hands, with tools, or with crafts. I bought a house with no delusions that I would embark on some kind of Instagram-worthy DIY journey. Even with something as simple as applying privacy film, I knew after a single YouTube video that it was not something I would be able to do to my own high standards.

While the realtor had taken care of finding contractors for the initial work, I was responsible for finding people to do all of the other renovations I wanted done. I had two real options: a handyman (便利屋, benriya) and contractors.

Apps like Curama will help you find specific types of tradespeople, and I needed them for small tasks like replacing my kitchen faucet, putting privacy film on my windows, and adding some new electrical outlets. I also used Google to find a local handyman for some “odd jobs” where there’s no pre-existing trade, like cutting and installing corrugated plastic inner windows and setting up a dog fence. It was also way cheaper to find and arrange everything myself.

However, for larger projects like replacing my front door or repairing the retaining wall, I needed an actual company to organize things and marshall experienced, trustworthy tradespeople. Luckily, this town has a construction firm that’s over a century old and has a large list of reputable tradespeople it can call in for different kinds of work. They’ve rallied plumbers, painters, paper hangers, retaining wall masons, roofers, carpenters, electricians, and more for me.

I’ve learned a lot from not only the tradespeople, but also from the woman who manages my projects. The downside of finding people yourself is that even if you read reviews, you don’t really know the quality of anyone’s work until they’ve done it. I’ve been disappointed in a few cases, so I now tend to pay the extra fee to rely on a project manager’s network.

It turns out that not everyone can do everything well for any house. Japanese home standards have changed a lot over the last 40–50 years, and many old homes will not come with actual floor plans, documentation, or building notes. Especially prior to the early 80s, it was apparently extremely common for frames and supports to deviate from floor plans, as carpenters would have made their own calls based on the quality of the materials they were able to get.

One example in my home is that several of the walls have large, diagonal load-bearing beams that would not normally exist. This is a good deviation from expectations, but also means that it’s more difficult to simply add a window or electrical outlet to a given wall due to an unexpected load-bearing support.

The project manager explained to me that she has two carpenters in their 70s (still very spry and extremely strong!) that she prefers for projects like my house, as they’ve built and repaired thousands of homes like mine and know what to look for, whereas younger carpenters trained only on modern standards are often confused by the disorder and cannot foresee or check for potential complications in older homes.

I really appreciate this type of thoughtful staffing, though it comes at a higher cost in both money and time. When you’re trying to get specific contractors, you have to deal with coordinating all of their schedules. I’m lucky in that I don’t really have any pressing demands in terms of scheduling, but if you do, you can see how having a pool of only 2 potential carpenters instead of 10 could make planning more difficult.

Did I buy a lemon?

Cheops’ Law: Nothing ever gets built on schedule or within budget.

Even after all that work, I started to find problems just after moving in. I was about to be extremely thankful for that defect insurance.

Sinking floors

Shortly after I moved in, I realized that there were at least a dozen spots in multiple rooms around the house where the floor felt mushy. I worried that there was water damage rotting the wood, but the actual answer was less scary: the floor consisted of vinyl over very thin plywood that could not support my 120 kg weight.

Apparently in the 80s, it was fairly common for floors to consist of a very thin plywood, around 12-15 millimeters thick, topped by a thin veneer around 0.3 millimeters thick. As those homes were renovated and the floors were redone, additional veneer or vinyl flooring would be added, creating shale-like layers of flooring on top of the original thin plywood.

In many cases, this layering was sufficient to support people’s weight, but in my 120 kg case, the original plywood had begun to buckle, leading to the unnerving spongy feeling.

This was judged to be a material defect, and thus the seller was responsible for fixing it. The carpenter believed that the joists needed to be reinforced and the only real solution would be to judiciously lay modern plywood (24-28 millimeters), level everything out, and top it with modern veneer flooring (12 millimeters).

I was lucky that the carpenter and project manager went to bat for me against the seller and insisted that this was the only realistic solution. It built my trust in them and gave me a lot of peace of mind when it seemed that I had bought a lemon.

The seller conceded and agreed to pay for reflooring the two most problematic rooms and their closets, which were also the two largest rooms of the house on the first and second floors. I agreed to accept only joist reinforcement in the halls and kitchen, but asked that we add on additional work at cost for myself to reinforce and refloor the bedroom and another room that I planned to use as a home gym.

The floor repairs in total were close to 1,500,000 yen, with about a third of that being the additions that I paid for myself. Boy, was I happy with that insurance!

One unforeseen result, though, was that I did not receive a New Year’s card from either the seller or the realtor. In Japan, it’s extremely common for businesses to send cards to customers, especially ones they’ve had large transactions with, so this was a surprise and a sign that I had really upset them. It was so unexpected that when I told the contractors—who had all sent me cards—they were completely blown away.

Poor vinyl application on window sills

The house had been abandoned for a while and had water damage on the window sills, to which the seller had applied wood grain vinyl.

Some of the applications were extremely poor and uneven, especially where the tradesperson had both forgotten to apply putty to smooth the surface and also had not cut around the window well. The result was that the vinyl didn’t fully cover the scarred wood and was prone to tearing.

I asked the seller to redo the vinyl at their cost under the defect insurance, which they did after weeks of back and forth.

No hot showers!

By the end of my first few weeks in the house, I was fed up with the water. It took forever to heat up, it wouldn’t hold the temperature, and the pressure was absolutely lousy.

I complained to the seller about my Ecocute (an all-electric hot water heater). At this point, they were extremely tired of me.

They asked me to “wait and see” and claimed that it might need “settling in” time due to its age. When I finally convinced them that it was completely unusable, they said that they would only be able to replace it with a used model and that it would take 8-12 weeks for them to find someone to come do the replacement.

I was also extremely tired of them, so I let it go and decided to buy my own Ecocute from a company that could deliver and install it that week. I plopped down some extra cash for a high pressure model with a family-sized tank so that we’d have enough hot water when my sister and her family visited, and I’m glad I did.

It wasn’t a total loss, though, since the new heater was eligible for some subsidies and I got about half my money back. This brought the final cost of the unit and installation to about 200,000 yen.

That first shower felt like the most expensive shower I’d ever taken, but it also felt great!

Air conditioner problems

Problems with the air conditioners were my first real taste of home ownership. When I moved in, the air conditioners were about 20 years old. They generally worked ok, but rattled quite a lot. Shortly after moving in, I realized that one was leaking quite a lot of water, and another could only occasionally send puffs of room-temperature air into the room.

There was also no air conditioner in the room I planned to use as a bedroom, and none in a few guest rooms. Given that summer temperatures indoors would sail north of 35 C, I knew I needed them.

I’ve bought and had air conditioners installed in the past and as far as I knew, it wasn’t a big deal. Boy, was I about to get a surprise!

One of the air conditioners.

Those of you with sharp eyes may already see the issue: there is no visible ducting or power cable.

Those of you with even sharper eyes may realize another issue: this is a wholly internal wall. You can see the hallway and door to a room behind the air conditioner.

When I first viewed the house, I thought something was off and asked the realtor. He claimed not to know anything about the air conditioners because they were being sold as-is. His stance was that everything was probably just tucked neatly behind the air conditioners, and that was perfectly normal.

I asked if he knew if that was more expensive or if it would impact replacements or repairs and he shrugged, saying he’s not an air conditioner repairman.

That was a yellow warning flag, and one I tucked away in my mental notes to look into later. Unfortunately, “later” in this case meant that I forgot about it until one of my air conditioners broke!

It turned out that my six existing air conditioners were installed with embedded ducting and power (隠ぺい配管, inpei haikan), a fairly nonstandard installation method that some builders will offer at the time of construction.

Embedding your ducting means that none of it is visible because it’s all in the walls/ceilings/floors. It also allows you to place units on interior walls where external ducting would have to breach multiple rooms’ walls.

The downsides are that embedded ducting:

May leak somewhere with you being none the wiser
Cannot be easily removed, replaced, rerouted, or repaired
Predetermines what kind of replacement units are available to you

Additionally, my air conditioners had a non-standard installation where they were set up to run off of two jumbo external units, with three air conditioners linked to a single unit. This meant that I couldn’t replace a single air conditioner due to the embedded ducting’s pre-determined routing; I had to replace them all at once.

Unlike the other problems, the air conditioners were specifically not covered under the defect insurance and I would have to pay out of pocket. My wonderful project manager held a number of consultation and planning sessions with me and the HVAC specialists to figure out what we could do. In the end, we found that modern Daikin air conditioners have a similar footprint and connections to the old ones, so we could mount those in place without fiddling with the embedded ducting too much.

They would not be compatible with the current large exterior units, but we could use most of the existing ducting to replace the big exterior units with smaller ones, one per air conditioner. There wasn’t enough space outside to replace two large units with six small ones, so we stacked two and then ran extensions to the ducting to relocate two more.

While I had everyone there anyway, I decided to add some more air conditioners in the other rooms the standard way: punching a hole through the wall for an external duct.

This is when I learned that asbestos had existed in Japanese home siding until the 2000s, and that asbestos testing was mandatory before any construction could be done on the siding.

Would knowing all this in advance have put me off buying the house? Probably not, but I still wish I’d had some inkling in advance, because “replace every air conditioner and pay a lump sum north of a million yen” was not in my plans for my first year of home ownership.

I was an extremely grumpy home owner for the longest time after this, but I now have modern, energy efficient air conditioning in every room.

Roof and siding

The contractor did a free inspection of my siding and the roof after they checked for asbestos. They found that it hadn’t been maintained or replaced since the house was built, but that it otherwise seems to be in remarkably good shape, with the worst issues being some missing nails on the roof that they were happy to replace.

The project manager explained that generally, detached homes should have their roof and siding maintained and weatherproofed every 10–12 years. There are exceptions if you opt for higher quality treatments, but they’re not especially useful or cost effective.

The ballpark for my house was around 2,000,000 yen due to not only its size and height, but the difficulty in arranging scaffolding around it; two sides of the house didn’t have enough area for scaffolding and would require the contractors to take down a fence and set up a crane on the road.

Fortunately, because my roof and siding were in such good condition, nobody saw an issue with putting it off a few more years.

Small personalizations

Once I’d taken care of all of the critical bits and pieces, I had the luxury to realize that one of the great things about owning a home is that you can modify anything to suit your tastes and lifestyle. It actually took me a while to embrace this, because I’ve rented for the last two decades and Japan is extremely strict about what renters are allowed to change.

There were a number of small things that bothered me about my home that wouldn’t cost too much to fix, and would make me much happier with my space. I was determined to improve them to keep my morale up, while also saving money for the next large set of renovations..

Japanese detached homes commonly have a nameplate (表札, hyousatsu) facing the street to help people identify the home. These usually show the name of the owner and the street address. I found a design that I liked and ordered it with the top portion showing my last name in English and katakana, and the bottom portion showing my street address—no more misplaced deliveries or confused phone calls.

My house originally came with a small, broken mailbox along the street. The renovation company replaced it with an equally small, metal mailbox in the same place. I occasionally had problems with people running into it, and it wasn’t particularly weatherproof. If there’s anything I hate to get in my mail more than bills, it’s soggy bills.

I wanted a better, weatherproof mailbox. While I was searching, I realized that because I’m a homeowner, I don’t have to settle for a mere mailbox for letters! I started looking for parcel boxes (宅配ボックス, takuhai bokkusu) so that people could leave parcels in a safe place as well. I picked this one because it’s fully enclosed, lockable, and can be secured so that it doesn’t fall over in an earthquake. I’ve had it just outside my door by my porch for a year and a half now, and it’s greatly increased my quality of life.

The next step: Major interior renovations

You may remember that I had the floor reinforced and then added new thick wood veneer to replace the vinyl flooring in parts of my house. After a year, the downstairs hall also developed some unstable spots.

Unfortunately for me, the defect insurance had run out, so I would have to pay for the flooring and repairs on my own.

In addition to the flooring, I decided to kick off a larger-scale project while I had the carpenter and also:

Convert an upstairs room from tatami to flooring
Add a ceiling to the two-story entrance hall, which would expand the room above
- Remove the existing too-large shoe cabinet that blocked the window by the door
- Tear down the wall in the room above to open it to the new floor
- Add electrical outlets in the new areas
Add double-glazed windows to the now cave-like entrance hall

The smaller entrance hall retains heat and cold more easily, and the new windows I added are double-glazed, which brings my house one small step toward having completely modern windows.

The work ultimately took about a month for one carpenter to do in six to seven hour days, with additional tradespeople coming to help with the wiring and wallpaper for about a week. It ended up only costing around 50,000 yen more than the original estimate.

Removing the shoe closet in the entrance.

Adding a new room above the entrance hall.

Bringing light to the situation

One more addition to the upstairs room was a new wall above the stairwell where there had previously been none. I knew that it would turn the stairwell into a dark cavern, so I had two requests that the carpenter thought were extremely unusual: a window and a light above the window—in the stairwell!

The light isn’t for the stairwell itself, but is actually aimed down at the window. My goal was to have a simple way to access the opposite side of that wall to be able to hang art and posters, and it turned an otherwise featureless and dark wall into a display area.

The stairwell after renovations.

Where is my wallpaper?

Other than the ones I brought to the table, we ran into some other surprises with this interior renovation, especially since it was the first time my contractors had done any major work on this house. The biggest one was that the dark grey, textured wallpaper the seller had used in the upstairs room was no longer sold. That wallpaper turned out to be around 10 years old and nothing close to it existed anymore.

We had originally planned on buying that wallpaper and extending it into the new section of the upstairs room, but since we couldn’t find it anywhere, we had to wallpaper the entire room again in a brand new type of wallpaper! That was an expense none of us had anticipated, and was the reason that the work went slightly over the original estimated cost.

The project manager explained to me that it’s pretty normal for the company to stockpile a bunch of each kind of wallpaper they use for clients so that they have enough on hand in the future for things like this, or patches and repairs. It turns out that they also have a stockpile of the flooring I’ve been using, just in case they need to do work on that in the future!

Future plans

One of the major remaining tasks is adding real inner windows (内窓, uchimado) to my house while the government subsidy is still effective. This will make my HVAC more cost efficient and help buffer against temperature changes indoors. I want to do it as soon as possible this year while the subsidy exists, but it’s estimated to cost around 1,000,000 yen.

Completely replacing windows is rare because that involves more complex structural work and siding replacement/repair. If you buy a used home with single-glazed windows, you should be prepared for a substantial outlay to make your home more temperature-resistant.

I had a lot of doubts when I first bought this house, and it definitely doesn’t meet my original ideal of a fancy, Instagrammable Japanese fusion house. I definitely had even more doubts after I moved in and started running into problems.

Are used homes in Japan worth it?

There are a lot of reasons my house was particularly cheap, and the most obvious ones are location, distance to the nearest station, age, and build quality.

However, there are other, less obvious factors that make used homes in Japan cheaper in general than in other places. The most basic financial reason is that in Japan, the bulk of a property’s value is held in the land, while the value of the building itself will depreciate year over year. The National Tax Agency defines the statutory useful life (法定耐用年数, houtei taiyou nensuu) of buildings and related depreciation calculations.

There are several different factors that can affect the value of a home. A home that has been through a flood will have many structural problems that reduce its value even more. Very old homes that were built to extremely high standards and maintained over the decades—such as traditional Japanese kominka—may retain more value than expected, even when well past their statutory lives.

Normal homes built before the revised earthquake guidelines can be made more attractive to buyers through performance-enhancing renovations, such as the addition of modern windows or further earthquake proofing. However, even with these improvements, they will never recapture or exceed their original values.

The regulation of home depreciation has other effects on the ability to resell homes in Japan. Once a home’s value has been reduced to nothing, banks will be extremely reluctant to issue loans as there is no way for them to recapture the collateral value in the event of a default. As a result of this, homeowners are incentivized to try to sell at lower prices to enlarge the pool of potential buyers, which creates a buyer’s market.

^Ultimately, if you choose to buy a used home in Japan, you should look at it from the standpoint of whether that building and its location are good for your lifestyle. Assume that you will never be able to sell a property for the same or more than you bought it for, if you’re able to sell it at all.

A final reason for many homes being cheap is inheritance. Homes are often passed to the children, often with a share of the property divided among them. These children may live in completely different places and have no interest in maintaining or using the property they’ve inherited, but they are still responsible for the property taxes.

The home thus becomes a so-called akiya because it is a burden to its owners. Through abandonment and neglect, the property deteriorates more and more over time and its value drops drastically. This photo shows clearly how much my home had been neglected before the family sold it to the flipper company, which in turn sold it to me.

The front door was covered in vines before being sold.

In the case of my home, the previous owners had died and their children had each inherited a piece of the property, and with it responsibility for paying the property taxes. My guess is that they all knew it would be difficult to sell in its original state, but also that it would cost a lot of money to demolish the building. The taxes weren’t quite high enough to care much, but the whole property was a burden to them, so they sold it to the renovation company I eventually bought it from.

For my situation, with my budget and lifestyle, this was absolutely a great purchase. I can easily see how this home wouldn’t have been worth it to people in other situations: for example, if they frequently had to commute to Tokyo, or were hoping to raise children.

Home sweet home

My Japanese home renovation journey has been very rocky and stressful, but I now have a home I’m happy with and plans for the future.

I’m very grateful for the project manager at the construction company as well as the reliable and helpful team of contractors I’ve had with me. There’s no way I could have done any of this without them, and I’ve learned so much from all of them along the way!

I hope that sharing my experiences here helps other people build a realistic picture of what it can be like to buy a generic, used Japanese home and renovate it.

I’ve been living here for over two years now. I’ve had friends and family visit, and having the extra space plus another toilet really made it possible for me to host them comfortably for weeks at a time. My dogs have lots of space to themselves and don’t bother my guests, even the ones with allergies.

I’m looking forward to being able to continue to invest in improving my own home!

Disclaimer: I have purposefully changed some details and photos to protect my privacy. These edits do not materially affect the decisions I made in the journey of buying my home.

Scam applicants are an increasing problem in Japan

2026-06-03T12:55:15+09:00

この記事は日本語でもお読みいただけます。

Over the last six months, TokyoDev has received a handful of reports from our clients about fraudulent applications, in which candidates purport to be different people than they actually are. As a relatively niche job board that helped Japanese companies make 93 hires last year, the overwhelming majority of our applicants are real people. Nevertheless, this trend is disturbing.

All these reported scammers share one particular characteristic: they claim to be Japanese citizens living abroad, or recently returned to the country. One reason for this commonality is that our clients are actively seeking to hire more bilingual Japanese citizens, who are rather rare to begin with, so our clients are far more likely to interview these candidates than if they had claimed another, non-Japanese identity.

Reports to us have mentioned that they believe these scammers are North Koreans, a possibility that has been reported elsewhere. My theory is that these scammers are actually assuming a Japanese identity in order to target American and other international companies. The typical Western person won’t be able to easily differentiate whether someone comes from Japan or North Korea based upon appearance and English accent alone. Pretending to be Japanese saves them from having to use video or audio filters during interviews.

If a scammer is using an automatic tool to apply for English-speaking software jobs around the world, they may just happen to apply for one of the jobs on our site. I don’t have any reason to believe that TokyoDev and our clients are specifically being targeted.

The end goal of these people is not entirely clear. At best, they want to get paid money directly. At worst, they’re performing industrial espionage or looking for opportunities to inject malware into their target’s network. Regardless, even if they’re all caught, the time they waste and the distrust they sow is incredibly harmful.

In this article, I’ll outline what I’ve witnessed and the measures we’ve taken so far. By compiling the signals we’ve seen, and our best techniques for catching scammers, we can hopefully stop companies who use TokyoDev (and even those who don’t) from actually hiring these candidates.

Attributes of a scammer

Besides claiming to be a Japanese citizen, these are other attributes common among scammers applying via TokyoDev. While these don’t guarantee that someone is a scammer, if an applicant has any of them, proceed with caution.

Resident of Japan with a US phone number

It is easy and cheap for anyone in the world to get a virtual US phone number, and use VoIP to answer it. This makes the numbers attractive to scammers, as they can say they’re based in the US and have a legitimate-looking phone number to prove it.

I’ve frequently seen scammers say they’re currently in Japan, but list a US phone number. While I suppose it is possible for someone to be a resident who has only recently relocated to Japan and not have gotten a local phone number, the chances of this are quite slim.

Non-existent Japanese phone number

The Japanese government places restrictions on who can get a phone number. To get a virtual phone number, you need to be a resident of Japan. Non-residents are able to get a Japanese voice SIM, but they must physically be in Japan to receive it and present ID when doing so.

While there is a black market to get around this, using it increases the cost and risk. Likely because of this, I’ve seen cases of scammers putting fake Japanese phone numbers on their resumes. If someone calls the number, the game will be up, so I guess they’re just counting on it never being called.

Senior candidate with a generic portfolio website

Scammers are usually trying to appear quite senior, with eight or more years of experience. Some of them will provide a link to a “portfolio” website, often hosted on a subdomain of a free hosting service, such as GitHub pages. The website usually feels very generic and just lists their skills and projects. It doesn’t have any unique content, like a blog.

I’ve seen legitimate junior candidates create something like this, but good senior candidates won’t waste their time. If they have any website at all, the most they’ll do to sell themselves is post a link to their resume.

Worked at famous companies, but most recent one is “anonymous” or “stealth”

I’ve seen scammers who will say they previously worked for famous big tech companies, such as Amazon, Google or Meta, but list their most recent employer as “anonymous.” I suppose they’re doing this to strike a balance between creating an attractive profile, and being able to withstand basic scrutiny.

However, legitimate candidates will normally list who their current employer is. I know of one scammer on TokyoDev who tried this tactic out, but later moved on to listing minor companies instead, perhaps because he realized pretending to be ex-FAANG made him too obvious.

Improbable address

Another report we’ve received is that some of these candidates list addresses that don’t make sense. For example, the address may be located in an industrial district, a commercial area with no residential buildings, or a remote location where few people actually live.

What doesn’t work to catch them

Here are some techniques we’ve investigated that initially seemed promising, but won’t consistently catch scammers.

IP address-based detection

Some applications from candidates that claim they’re based in Japan do have non-Japanese IP addresses, but many fraudulent candidates also will have Japanese ones. Furthermore, those addresses often can’t be caught by VPN detectors; it appears that they are using residential Japanese ISPs. There are less ethical services that will provide you with a residential proxy, so it seems that these candidates have clued in and started using them.

Listing your job as “partially remote” or “no remote”

Even though these fraudulent candidates are based outside of Japan, I’ve still observed them applying for jobs that require candidates to come into the office. From talking to our clients, it seems like these candidates have a story about a sick relative or injury that they’ll use as an excuse for why they can’t come into the office initially.

What can catch them

While I can’t guarantee that these measures will continue to work, right now they seem the most promising.

Ask for a Japanese phone number

Virtually every resident of Japan has a Japanese phone number, so when screening candidates who claim to be in Japan, you can call the number they list or ask them to provide one if they don’t. For extra certainty, call the number while on a video call so you can confirm the person you’re interviewing is the one answering it. While not foolproof, from what we’ve observed, this is enough to stop at least some scammers.

Screen in both English and Japanese

Scammers sometimes pretend to be Japanese citizens to mask the fact that they speak English with an accent. This can be their undoing, though, as while they may be prepared to interview in English, it is unlikely that they can speak Japanese at a native level.

By screening candidates in both languages, you may be able to identify that their language ability doesn’t match their assumed background. Clients have reported that when they switch from speaking English to Japanese, scammers often just drop out of the call.

Use an identity verification service

It’s quite common these days, when signing up for apps that involve financial transactions, to perform some type of identity verification, where you upload your ID and also go through a facial recognition process to ensure your ID matches.

While it would be too expensive and invasive to ask all candidates to go through such a process, I think it is reasonable to have candidates do this before you onboard them, especially if you’re hiring someone to work fully remotely without ever meeting them in person.

Perform onboarding in-person

If a scammer outside of Japan somehow makes it through your whole interview process, they’re only going to start working with you if they can work completely remotely from day one. Even if your company works fully remotely, completing onboarding in person will most likely catch them. Travelling to Japan may be impossible for scammers, both from a financial perspective, and because they may not even be able to secure a visa to travel here.

Use an ATS with built-in fraud protection

I’ve observed that some Applicant Tracking Systems (ATS) are starting to offer fraud protection. I have similar qualms about this as using AI for screening, since legitimate candidates are unfairly going to be skipped over.

At the same time, ATS are the only ones in a position to solve this problem at scale. When you’re processing millions of job applications per month, the patterns of scammers become a lot more obvious.

If you’re already using an ATS provider, talk to them about how they can help prevent applicant fraud. Take note of how exactly they’re doing it, and make sure you also understand what sort of legitimate applications will be screened out by them.

What is TokyoDev doing about scammers?

As a job board, we’re in a bit of an awkward situation. On the one hand, we don’t want to be the source of scam job applications. On the other, we have a duty to uphold the privacy of our applicants, and also must follow Japanese regulatory requirements that prevent us from screening candidates.

If a company reports to us that they believe a job application is from a scammer, and the candidate applied via TokyoDev’s own job application form, we mark that application as fraudulent. If we receive a similar job application in the future, we flag it for manual review, and if it seems likely the flagged job application is also a scam, we do not forward it. It’s our understanding that this is in compliance with Japan’s job board regulations.

This process only catches people applying via our own job application form. As about half of our job listings direct candidates to the company’s ATS, it does nothing to prevent fraudulent applications via those systems. While we considered maintaining a list of fraudulent candidates to share with companies, we eventually dismissed this idea both because of privacy concerns, and because we think it is unlikely that companies will actually verify candidates against it.

Beyond that, I think that education around this issue is what’s most likely to make an impact, which is why I’m writing this article.

Conclusion

I expect we’re just seeing the tip of the iceberg here, and things are going to get worse before they get better. Generative AI has been a great boon to scammers, making it easier to automate sending customized job applications as well as to pass the interviews themselves.

Just like email spam was once a huge problem, and then was largely resolved, this issue will probably follow the same pattern. Right now ATS are a commodity, and there are hundreds if not thousands of options to choose from, but the prevalence of scammers could lead to a handful dominating the space. Google is able to offer some of the best spam filtering because of the huge volume of email that moves through their servers; similarly, the ATS that process the most job applications will be in the best position to detect applicant spam. I think it would be a bad thing to have a few companies serve as gatekeepers for the majority of people changing jobs, but that also is likely to be the outcome.

One process that’s immune to all of this, though, is people changing jobs via in-person connections. A referral from an existing employee is almost certainly going to be a real person.

This is one of the reasons TokyoDev supports our local tech community, both by holding our own events and sponsoring others. If you’re looking to hire developers, you can get involved too! You’ll be doing good as well as building up your own pipeline of candidates who are not scammers, and who already have a positive association with your brand.

Beyond Japan’s Big Cities: Life as a Software Engineer in Kumamoto

2026-05-29T16:50:25+09:00

When people imagine a software engineering career in Japan, they usually picture working in Tokyo.

The general vision is easy to grasp: large offices, long train commutes, endless job opportunities, and a tech scene concentrated in one major metropolitan area.

But that’s just one version of working in tech in Japan. Instead, I work fully remotely as a software engineer for a company based in Tokyo while living in Kumamoto, a city of around 700,000 people located on the Japanese island of Kyushu.

By the time I joined my current company, I had already been living and working in Kumamoto for about two years, as my previous employer had a branch office there. When I decided to change jobs, I was fortunate to find a company that allowed me to continue living in Kumamoto while working remotely.

For many people interested in working in Japan, living somewhere other than Tokyo or Osaka may not even seem like a realistic option. But from my experience, it is very possible. At the same time, it comes with trade-offs that are important to understand.

In this article, I want to share what I’ve learned from living and working this way: the advantages, the disadvantages, and what type of person is most likely to prefer this lifestyle.

The benefits of living outside a big city
The downsides of not living in a major hub
Is working remotely in Japan worth it?

Why I chose life outside the big city

Lower rent

This may be the most obvious benefit, but its impact on my daily life is bigger than I expected.

1K apartment comparison

I currently live in a 1K apartment in Kumamoto City, and my monthly rent is around 41,000 yen. When I first moved here, this was enough for my lifestyle. After I began working remotely, I realized that a small apartment with limited space can start to feel uncomfortable, especially when the same room is used for work, rest, and daily life.

Still, even this small apartment shows one of the advantages of living in a regional city. According to CHINTAI’s rental market data, the average rent for a 1K apartment in Kumamoto City is around 37,000 yen per month, based on the average across its five wards. In comparison, a 1K apartment in Tokyo’s 23 wards averages around 117,000 yen per month. For context, CHINTAI says its rent averages are calculated from listings currently published on CHINTAI, generally for properties constructed within the last 20 years and excluding management and parking fees.

2LDK apartment comparison

Remote work has also changed what I value in housing. Home is not just where I sleep anymore. It is also my office and my breakroom. Because of that, I have started thinking more seriously about having a separate workspace at home.

I am currently considering moving to a larger apartment, possibly a 2LDK, when my current apartment contract ends. In Kumamoto City, this still feels realistic. Based on CHINTAI’s data, the average rent for a 2LDK across Kumamoto City’s five wards is around 67,000 yen per month.

In central Tokyo, however, a similar apartment would be much more expensive. The average rent for a 2LDK in Tokyo’s 23 wards is around 255,000 yen per month, and in central areas it can be even higher. For example, some central wards such as Chiyoda, Chuo, Minato, Shinjuku, and Shibuya often average well above 300,000 yen per month for a 2LDK.

This is one of the biggest advantages of living in a regional city while working remotely. I can live cheaply if I want to, but even if I decide to spend more for a larger and more comfortable home office setup, it would still be much more affordable than living in central Tokyo.

A quieter, less hectic daily experience

One of the things I appreciate about living in Kumamoto is that daily life feels calmer. There are fewer crowds, less noise, and less of the constant hustle and bustle that people often associate with large urban centers. This is not only something I notice on weekends or holidays, but also in small moments after work.

Since I work fully remotely from my apartment, I sometimes take a walk around my neighborhood after spending the whole day indoors. It helps me keep my body moving and gives me a clear mental break between work and personal time.

One place I like to visit is a cafe near Kamiezu Lake in Kumamoto, which is about a ten-minute walk from my apartment. Because it is close to the lake, I can sit down with a drink and enjoy the view.

My favorite drink there is the Rich Matcha Latte Frappe, but when I want something warm, I sometimes order a caramel latte with a donut. Spending time there after work listening to music, playing a mobile game, or reading a novel is one of my favorite ways to relax.

Cafe near Kamiezu Lake: Eto Boat House

This has become one of the small routines that makes living in Kumamoto enjoyable for me. It is simple, but it gives my day a nice rhythm: work at home, take a short walk, spend some time by the lake, and return feeling refreshed. For remote work, that kind of rhythm makes a big difference.

Easier access to nature

Another benefit of living in a regional city is that nature feels much closer.

For example, Kamiezu Lake is about a ten-minute walk from my apartment, and Suizenji Jojuen Garden is about a 25-minute walk away. Both are well-known spots inside Kumamoto City, but they still feel much less crowded than similar places in Tokyo.

Because these spots are close to where I live, I can visit them casually without making it feel like a major trip. Local people also go there to enjoy the scenery, take a walk, or have a picnic with their families. For me, being able to access places like this so easily makes daily life feel more relaxed.

Suizenji Jojuen Garden

Kamiezu Lake

There are also bigger weekend trip options, such as Mount Aso, or nearby prefectures like Miyazaki and Kagoshima. To reach those places I usually travel by car, so having access to a car can make this lifestyle much easier. But even without planning a full day trip, Kumamoto has nature and scenic places close enough to enjoy in everyday life.

For someone working remotely, this proximity matters more than I expected. Since I spend most of my workdays at home, having easy access to nature helps me reset mentally. It gives me a clearer separation between work time and personal time.

Of course, if you enjoy nightlife, big events, and having endless options within walking distance, a large city may still be more attractive to you. But if you value outdoor space, quieter weekends, and the ability to recharge outside the city, living in a place like Kumamoto can be a major advantage.

The downsides of living outside a big city

Of course, this lifestyle isn’t always a winner. There are real disadvantages, and I think it’s important to be honest about them.

Fewer job opportunities if you want to change companies

Although remote work is becoming increasingly common, many opportunities in the tech sector in Japan are still concentrated in Tokyo.

Living in a regional city is easier if you already have the right job. But if you want to change companies, your options may become more limited. Some companies say they support remote work, but in reality, they still expect employees to come into the office regularly, or they prefer candidates who live near Tokyo.

This means your lifestyle may be tied to the availability of a certain type of company: businesses that truly support remote work, not just in theory, but in practice. So, while living outside of Tokyo can be convenient, it can also reduce flexibility when it comes to your next career move.

Personally I found my current company through LinkedIn. At that time, I had been working in Kumamoto for about two years and was starting to look for new opportunities. Around then, my current company was hiring for a software engineer role. The job post already mentioned remote work, so I didn’t need to negotiate for that. I soon discovered that the CEO was also working remotely from outside Tokyo, in Kyushu, so I think that may be one of the reasons why a fully remote policy was possible.

Less convenience

In Kumamoto, public transportation is convenient enough for daily life, but it is not as fast or extensive as it is in Tokyo. The main options are tram, train, and bus.

I often use the tram because it runs through the center of Kumamoto City, but it is slower than the train. The train is faster, but the routes and frequency are much more limited compared with Tokyo. Buses are useful when I need to go somewhere that is not covered by the tram or train lines, but they also require more planning due to traffic delays and transfers.

Going somewhere outside the city center can take more time than expected. For example, if I want to visit a restaurant that is a little far from central Kumamoto, the round trip can sometimes take a few hours by public transportation.

Fewer international communities

Another difference is community and networking opportunities. In Tokyo, there seem to be many international residents working in tech, which makes it easier for English-speaking tech communities to form. Because of that, it is simple to find tech meetups, networking events, or social groups, sometimes even on short notice.

In Kumamoto, those opportunities still exist, but they are much more limited. It can be difficult to do the same kind of networking here, and even when international communities exist, they are not necessarily focused on tech. For example, there are language and cultural exchange events, and they can be good places to meet people, but not to advance your tech career.

When I was working onsite at my previous company in Kumamoto, I sometimes came across information about local tech events through our office. After I started working remotely, however, I no longer had that kind of casual flow of information from people around me. So now I need to be more proactive about looking for events online.

I have used Connpass to search for local tech events in Kumamoto. Events do exist, but compared to Tokyo, the number is much smaller. Depending on the month, there may only be one or two events that are relevant to me.

Fewer opportunities to build relationships in person

Remote working is efficient, but it changes the way intra-company relationships are built.

Because I live in Kumamoto and my company is based in Tokyo, I usually only meet my coworkers in person once every few months. Most of the time, our communication happens through chat and online meetings. This works well for daily tasks, but I have noticed that when communication happens mostly through chat, we tend to talk only about work.

At my company, we have an internal event called Engineer Scrum Week, which is held around once every three months. During this event, engineers gather at the Tokyo office and work onsite together for about a week.

Being in the office creates many more chances to talk about things other than work. During Engineer Scrum Week in particular, there are usually team-building activities where engineers play games or join contests prepared by the organizers. We also often have lunch together, and sometimes go out for dinner or nomikai (after-work drinks).

These moments may not look directly related to work, but I think they are important. Through casual conversation I can get to know my coworkers better as people. It becomes easier to ask questions, make small jokes, and communicate more naturally afterwards.

In that sense, occasional trips to Tokyo have been incredibly helpful. They create a better balance between the efficiency of remote work and the closeness that comes from face-to-face interaction.

At the same time, how much the distance matters probably depends on your personality. Some people may be comfortable meeting coworkers in person only occasionally, while others may prefer more frequent face-to-face communication. In my case, I enjoy remote work, but I also find that meeting people in person helps me build relationships more naturally.

Is it worth it?

For me, yes.

Living in Kumamoto while working remotely for a Tokyo-based company has shown me that it’s possible to build a software engineering career in Japan without living in Tokyo.

But I wouldn’t describe it as the universally best option. I would describe it as a good option for the right person.

If you value a lower cost of living, a quieter lifestyle, and freedom from the commute, this can be a very attractive way of life. But if you want maximum career mobility, constant face-to-face networking, or the energy of a major tech hub, then living outside a large city might feel limiting.

What matters is whether those tradeoffs align with your desired lifestyle and work environment.

Is Japanese Citizenship Right for You?

2026-05-25T13:02:29+09:00

“Everybody, I’m talking everybody in my life was like, ‘Why do you want to do this? Why give up your US [citizenship]? Just get permanent residency!’” said Brett Tanoue, IT Coordinator and owner of InJapan Consulting.

It’s a good question. Among foreign residents who opt to remain in Japan long-term or permanently, permanent residency is statistically much more popular than becoming a Japanese citizen. For example, in 2023 8,800 people in Japan received naturalization permits. By contrast, the number of permanent residency recipients was 27,633.

So why do some choose to become Japanese citizens instead? And if that is your decision, just how difficult is the naturalization process?

To find out, I interviewed two relatively new Japanese citizens: Brett Tanoue, who naturalized in 2026, and Francis Miyamoto, a Senior UI/UX Designer who naturalized in late 2022.

“Was it a difficult decision?” Miyamoto said. “Not at all—and I have zero regrets.” Instead, he and Tanoue have a host of personal experiences and insights to offer, including:

Why choose to become a Japanese citizen?
Is naturalization right for you?
The naturalization process
Final advice: start now, because it’s worth it

Why choose to become a Japanese citizen?

Naturalization vs permanent residency

In brief, permanent residency gives immigrants the right to live in Japan on a permanent basis, with very few restrictions on what work they can perform. Permanent residents can also maintain their citizenship in their home country.

However, these residents can lose their right to remain in Japan under certain circumstances, such as if they leave Japan for an extended period of time, or if they commit a serious crime. In 2024, the Immigration Control Act was amended so that permanent residents may also lose their residency if they fail to pay taxes or social insurance, although this is restricted to “malicious cases” of intentional non-payment.

By contrast, naturalizing in Japan requires immigrants to give up their citizenship in any other country. In return, the new Japanese citizen is granted several important additional rights.

These rights include:

The right to vote and be elected to public office
The right to not be deported
The ability to work without any restrictions, including in civil service
The chance to travel under a Japanese passport

The expanded rights granted to naturalized citizens was an important factor in Tanoue’s decision.

I like to exercise my right to vote, which you can only do with citizenship.

The new timeline for naturalization

Until recently, one additional reason to choose naturalization over permanent residency was that naturalization required only 5 years of residency before applying. Permanent residency, in principle, requires 10 years. This has recently changed, and now naturalization will also require 10 years of residency.

That jump from 5 years to 10 may further reduce the number of naturalization applicants. The time factor was certainly a key point in Miyamoto’s decision to naturalize. “I didn’t qualify for the points-based PR system,” he explained.

Rather than waiting a decade for residency, I went straight for naturalization, to permanently secure my right to live and work here on my own terms.

Naturalization protects your relationship with Japan

Other considerations aside, Tanoue and Miyamoto both said that naturalization made sense for them personally, because they’d formed such deep ties to the country.

A decade of roots

Miyamoto felt the connection with Tokyo, specifically, a decade before he naturalized. “[It was] a family trip in 2012. . . . Something about Tokyo just stayed with me.

“That 2012 trip led to an exchange year at Meiji Gakuin University, and Tokyo during that spring semester was nothing short of magical. I made lifelong friends, fell in love with the city, and knew I’d be back.

“After graduating in Manila, I returned in 2016 to work in HR and automotive in Nagoya—but Tokyo was always the goal. I’d always been drawn to design and the web, so in 2019 I enrolled at Le Wagon Tokyo, which gave me the perfect excuse to move back to the city and make the pivot.”

Six years later, I’m a Senior UI/UX Designer with a decade of roots here, a trilingual career built across fintech, telecom, and enterprise, and a growing creative business in Shinjuku. Leaving just doesn’t make sense anymore.

The right to permanently call Japan home

Tanoue felt similarly about Japan when he arrived after graduation in 2015. Unfortunately Japan, at least at first, didn’t love him back. “I had the most typical English-speaking first job: I was a teacher for Aeon, and I was placed in Hiroshima. . . . Then I met my wife, and we started dating, and I started thinking ‘Well, I need to get serious about my life now.’”

Since he had some IT experience in the US, he attempted to return to a tech career, but had no luck finding a good role in Japan. Eventually he, his Japanese wife, and their child relocated to the US, so that Tanoue could build up his tech resume.

“ When I moved back to the US in 2019,” he said, “it only took one month for me to be like, ‘I kind of actually really miss Japan.’ The lifestyle and everything agreed with me so much more.”

Though Covid complicated the process, Tanoue searched hard and found a better job back in Japan as soon as possible. “When we did move back to Japan, we made the decision after our second child.”

Japan is my home, and every time I visit the US it feels like a foreign country to me. So it felt more natural to go for citizenship, to have the right to call this permanently my home, than to just get PR, which is not temporary, but is a less-committed version in my mind.

Is naturalization right for you?

Naturalization was the right decision for them, but is it right for you? According to Tanoue and Miyamoto, there are several major factors to consider.

Where are you from?

Your home country, its policies on visas for Japanese citizens, and its stance on reclaiming citizenship are all important points to consider.

“If you’re from a country with a weaker passport,” said Miyamoto, “and you’ve built a real life here, naturalizing is one of the most empowering moves you can make. It permanently secures your right to live and work in Japan, regardless of political climate or employer situations.”

It also, depending on your original nationality, can make it easier to visit elsewhere. “The Japanese passport is still top-tier globally, and my Filipino passport required visas to most of the places I want to travel to—including Japan itself.”

My only caveats: confirm whether your home country allows you to reacquire citizenship or offers a favorable visa on your Japanese passport, and check that the Japanese passport gives you reasonable visa-free access to your home country too.

The way I think about it,” Miyamoto went on, “I upgraded my freedom. I can travel more freely, my living and working rights here are permanent, and as a former Filipino citizen, I can still get a long-stay visa and reclaim Philippines citizenship if I ever need to. I gained far more than I gave up.”

Where are you going?

The US doesn’t offer the opportunity to easily reacquire citizenship, so for Tanoue the decision felt quite final. Nonetheless he chose to take that step, mostly because he couldn’t imagine returning to the United States.

“I think what you need to do, if you’re considering naturalization,” he said, “is to take stock of where you are now and your final goals.

“If your goals involve going back home at any point, I wouldn’t recommend it. But if you sit down and you take stock of what’s around you—you have family here, your friends are here, your life is here, your job is here, everything is here—and especially if you are like me, where you go back home and you feel reverse culture shock, you might want to seriously consider [whether] Japanese citizenship is for [you.]”

If your whole life’s here and you realize that, and you think, ‘What do I want to do in the future?’ And you see your future in Japan . . . then to me, it’s a no-brainer.

Where do you plan to retire?

In terms of his long-term future, Miyamoto’s concerns are primarily financial.

With the weakening yen and inflation more rampant abroad, like the Philippines, I think the affordable solution would be to retire in a rural area close to Tokyo or Osaka.

“We can’t predict what’s going to happen,” he cautioned, “but at least I have some options here in Japan, and the Philippines. Former Filipinos can also apply for a retirement or permanent resident visa.”

“As of right now my plans include living and retiring in Japan,” said Tanoue when asked. “Regardless of what you may see online or overseas, my local community and friends have been more than welcoming, adaptable, and happy to hear about my choice to become a citizen.”

What about family?

“This is a huge deciding point for many who come to me [to discuss naturalization],” said Tanoue. “My family visits often, luckily, so for now it is not a big deal. I do worry about when they are older and cannot do so, however. My hopes are to have enough savings to visit them when that time comes.”

His mother did require some persuasion.

My mother was originally not on board at all. I’m an only child and she’s like, ‘No, I’m losing you.’ . . . I had to promise her that Japan and the US aren’t going back to war anytime soon. I can even visit on a Japanese visa.

There are times Tanoue deeply misses having his family nearby. “It still feels weird to be a first-time homeowner, buying a new car, running a business, etc. all on my own, and my closest English support is half a world away. My Japanese is perfectly fine for everything I need, but there’s something comforting about being in new territory needing help, and getting it in your native language from people who have done similar things.”

In Tanoue’s case, though, he also had to weigh what he thought was best for the other members of his family, particularly his children. After the birth of their second child, “[My wife and I] sat down and had a serious talk. We have two kids now. We have to decide. We can’t keep moving internationally, going back and forth. . . . We went over the pros and cons of the US versus Japan. My wife, her entire decision was basically, ‘Wherever you go, I’ll go.’ So I decided on Japan.”

I felt better raising a family here. . . . It was two years ago or so that I really thought, ‘Well, I want to buy a house. I have my kids here. We’re not moving. We’ve already decided. This is where we’re raising them.

Family was also one of the tougher aspects of Miyamoto’s decision. Initially he said that “gathering documents remotely during the pandemic” was the hardest part of naturalization.

Then he clarified why: “I had to ask my aging mother in Manila to visit government offices and secure apostilled certificates—so I sent her a care package from Don Quijote to soften the ask. That part felt emotionally heavy.”

He sometimes worries about living in a different country from his parents, but not unduly. “Right now, with them aging and me being away, it does raise concerns.”

Luckily there is only a one hour time difference [in Japan] from the Philippines, so it’s easy to Facetime, and my siblings still live with my parents so they are taken care of. Also, I can hop on a four to five hour plane ride and I’m home.

The naturalization process

Miyamoto and Tanoue both opted not to use a lawyer or scrivener to assist in their naturalization. As a result, they have considerable insight into every aspect of the process.

A DIY project

Why not use a lawyer, though? Miyamoto opted instead for peer support. “I did it myself, entirely in Japanese.”

I used [this] guide and coordinated with a small group of friends who were also going through the process at the same time—we essentially peer-supported each other through it. Honestly, that collaborative approach worked really well.

As for Tanoue, it wasn’t his first time wrangling with the Japanese bureaucracy. ”Everything in Japan has been done by myself. Even when we got married, we filed the marriage certificate ourselves. When I switched to a Spouse visa, I filed that myself. So I figured I could do everything myself: one, because I’m stubborn, and two because I really hate spending money.”

The idea of lawyers’ fees scared me and my wallet, so I [decided to] do it myself. It was a lot of hard work and research, but I did it.

A one to two year timeline

Both interviewees described the naturalization process as taking between one and two years, with long periods of waiting between developments.

“I made the final decision in early 2024,” said Tanoue.

I called them in May to make an appointment and they said the earliest we have is five months from now. They said, ‘Is that okay?’ I’m like, ‘What do you mean, is that okay? Yes. I’ll just take that. I guess it’s the earliest you have.’

“So October 2024 was my first counseling appointment. . . . And then, all the way up until the end of January this year [2026] was when I got the call. It took a little over a year and a half total.”

Miyamoto’s application took slightly less time. “I filed my application in September 2021—without a lawyer—received my notification in November 2022, and had my Japanese passport in hand by December that year. [So it took] just over a year—about 15 months from application to passport.”

That’s remarkable under the circumstances. “COVID slowed things down considerably,” Miyamoto explained, “since the Ministry of Justice paused in-person consultations during the state of emergency, so under normal circumstances it could be faster.”

The anxiety is real

Miyamoto and Tanoue agreed that the greatest difficulty was not the process itself, but managing their emotions throughout.

“[One] challenge,” Miyamoto said, “was the psychological weight of the wait. You’re sitting with uncertainty for over a year, and there’s an unwritten expectation that you stay in one job throughout—you have to declare any changes.”

I actually did switch jobs during the process due to a difficult employer, and it turned out to be a non-issue, but the anxiety of not knowing how it would be received was real.

Tanoue also experienced intense anxiety, but for a different reason. “I was told that there will 100 percent be a Japanese test. . . . They’re starting to just give everybody tests. Even people with JLPT N1.”

“I say ‘I have test anxiety,’” he explained, “but the words alone are not going to be enough . . . especially knowing that if I don’t do well, they’re gonna be like, ‘You can’t be Japanese.’ All those thoughts [were] building in my head.”

Although Tanoue speaks Japanese well, officials told him that the test needed to be hand-written in kanji, which wasn’t something he’d practiced much. “I ended up buying the kanji elementary school drill [workbooks]. I bought the one for first and second grade, and I started filling those out, because I cannot write kanji to save my life. I can now a little bit. I try to make it a daily habit.”

Every day I hit the books and studied hard because I was like, ‘I can’t fail this test. I need to do it.’

“And then when I finally did it,” he said, “I finished it and [the official] took two seconds and was like, ‘Yeah, you’re good.’ I was like, ‘That’s it?’”

“But I only say it was easy,” Tanoue hastened to clarify, “because I pushed myself to study hard. I did have to write four sentences or so using kanji about my favorite food and why it’s my favorite food. I did cheat a little bit because I said my favorite food was pizza, which it is, but, you know, there’s no kanji for pizza.”

The process itself? Easier than expected

Tanoue felt that in general, the difficulty is overhyped. “I think overall the whole process of getting citizenship is easier than it is made out to be.”

It’s made out to be this huge, monolithic [project] where you’re tackling the Japanese bureaucracy, and aside from the long [wait] times—five months between sessions—it was pretty simple.

“The pass rate surprised me,” Miyamoto said. “I’d braced myself for rejection, but the case workers essentially pre-screen applicants—they’ll only let you proceed if they believe you have a strong chance of passing. That gave me a lot more confidence once I was in the process. The overall pass rate was around 80% at the time.”

Choosing a name for yourself

An often-overlooked aspect of naturalization—the chance to choose a Japanese last name—can be one of the most meaningful parts of the whole experience, according to our interviewees.

For Miyamoto, his Japanese surname wasn’t “new” but a callback to his family’s past. “I actually have a Chinese Hokkien middle name from my mom and grandfather, Ong (王, king). But there is no native Japanese last name for Ong, so I tried to find a similar kanji. I found 宮, which is ‘divine,’ and also related to the emperor or king, which is what Ong means.

“To make it a surname, I added 元, not 本, [both pronounced moto] because I don’t like how most Japanese surnames are too literal like 田中 (Tanaka), ‘in the rice field.’ Also, it’s used in 元気 (genki), meaning ‘energetic.’

“If I combine the kanji for my last name 宮元 (Miyamoto), it means ‘Royal Origin’ for me. My grandfather also had a business named Royal that was a Boomer generation rags-to-riches story. With that business, he provided for his four wives and sent my mom and all seven of her siblings to college.”

For me, choosing my last name also meant paying tribute to the success of my grandfather, and the sacrifices he made to get me to this point.

Tanoue opted to adopt his wife’s Japanese surname. “I took my wife’s name because I felt as if having a Japanese last name would break past the invisible ‘first defense’ when dealing with everyday tasks.

“For instance, people will see a fully katakana name and assume the person doesn’t speak Japanese or speaks it poorly, so you get a watered-down version of what really needs to be said. Or, in business, it [helps prevent] losing an opportunity just because they prefer a Japanese partner. This isn’t the same every time or for everyone, but it happens often enough that I consider it my main reason.

“Secondly, to me my last name being Japanese and having kanji feels appropriate for finalizing my citizenship and tells me, if no one else, that this is now my home.

“Lastly, the reason it was my wife’s [name] is because she said to either use that or keep my old last name, as she wasn’t willing to get creative. It would’ve been cool to think of what we could’ve come up with—after all it’s not every day you get to choose a new name!”

So while taking his wife’s family name may look like a simple decision, Tanoue considered it deeply beforehand, and encourages others to do the same.

I always inform my clients that the name change is deeply personal, and everyone needs to seriously reflect on it before committing to a decision.

Final advice: start now, because it’s worth it

Miyamoto has been observing the rule changes around naturalization, and strongly feels that other developers who are interested should act swiftly.

Start as soon as you’re eligible—don’t wait.

“We’re in a period of right-leaning political shifts in Japan,” he pointed out, “and pass rates fluctuate year to year. Once you meet the requirements, book a consultation with a case worker and find out early whether your profile is likely to succeed. The sooner you move, the more control you have over the outcome.”

On a personal note, Miyamoto is more grateful than ever to be a Japanese citizen, with complete freedom to choose his line of work. “Recently, with AI encroaching on UX work,” he explained, “I focus more on building a personal brand about gay nightlife in Tokyo.”

Tanoue also hopes other international developers will make the choice to stay long-term and become citizens, to the point he’s building a consulting business to help them. “ This country does need more people to naturalize and help build the [population] back up.”

He clearly recalls the actual notification quite fondly. “I was on the train when I got the call, so I got off at whatever station was next.

“It was a mostly empty platform, luckily, because I got the call and they were like, ‘Oh yeah, your permission came through. You’re going to be a Japanese citizen. We just have to finish the paperwork within the next couple weeks.

“I was almost screaming on the platform . . . and then I was like, ‘Wait, I’m in public. I’m under control. Yeah, I’m Japanese. I don’t do things like that in public.’ It was great.”

What Is a Bridge Engineer in Japan?

2026-05-22T09:53:10+09:00

Japanese companies increasingly rely on offshore development for two main reasons: cost and capacity. Domestically, the supply of engineers has not kept up with demand, while IT investment continues to grow. Offshore teams provide access to a larger talent pool at a lower cost, making it possible to scale development.

Unfortunately these offshore projects introduce extra layers of complexity, including language barriers, cultural differences, time zone gaps, and differences in development practices. Any of these factors can cause problems if not managed carefully. That is where a bridge engineer, like myself, becomes essential.

A bridge engineer (ブリッジSE, burijji SE) is a system engineer who works with both a Japanese company and an overseas development team, bridging the communication and domain knowledge gaps to ensure that both sides can build the product together. Depending on the company, bridge engineers may also participate directly in development work such as implementation, code review, debugging, and technical design. In my case, I sit directly between a Japanese team and an offshore team in Bangladesh.

Most of my day is spent making sure that information flows correctly between the two sides. This includes relaying feature requirements, clarifying specifications, and checking that the work being done matches what the Japanese team expects.

In this article I’ll explain:

What experience and background a bridge engineer needs
Why a bridge engineer role can be a good entry point
How important cultural fluency is (with business examples)
The core responsibilities of a bridge engineer
What my typical day looks like
Common challenges bridge engineers face

How my background led to the role

I did not originally intend to become a bridge engineer. My goal was to become a software developer. I completed a full-stack engineering bootcamp at Le Wagon Tokyo, where I studied Ruby, HTML, CSS, JavaScript, and MySQL. However, when I applied to my current company, they were looking for someone who could combine technical knowledge with communication and management skills.

Before entering the tech field, I had previous experience in management, and I was already comfortable working in both English and Japanese. My Japanese level was around JLPT N3 at the time, but I was confident verbally and able to participate in most conversations and meetings, even if business-level communication was still challenging at times.

At the beginning, one of the most difficult parts of my job was translating technical discussions during meetings. There were times I was asked to interpret highly technical explanations from Japanese to English, even when I did not fully understand the concepts myself yet. In many cases, I had to learn technical terminology and system behavior while actively working in the role.

Looking back, I think the company saw potential in my combination of skills, rather than in my technical experience alone. I’m originally from the United States, with roots in the Dominican Republic, and later learned Japanese during my coding bootcamp. Because of my background, I was already used to switching between different cultures and communication styles, which became extremely important in this role.

A good way to enter the industry

Based on my own experience, I think bridge engineering can actually be a strong entry point for junior developers who have good communication skills and Japanese ability, even if they do not yet have years of engineering experience. Also, since the role requires understanding systems well enough to explain them clearly, it forces you to continuously learn.

At the same time, there are some risks. If a bridge engineer becomes too focused on coordination and stops actively engaging with the technical side of things, it is difficult to continue improving as an engineer. I found that staying involved in code reviews, bug investigation, and implementation work was important for maintaining my technical growth.

In general I think the role is best suited to people who are organized, adaptable, and willing to ask questions constantly. That last one is important, because the more deeply you understand both the product and the people involved, the more effective you become at preventing misunderstandings before they turn into larger problems.

The importance of cultural flexibility

In Japan, communication often relies on context, and requirements may be implied rather than stated. This can obviously cause issues when communicating with overseas developers that don’t share that same cultural context. Therefore, it’s critical for a bridge engineer to both correctly interpret Japanese cultural nuances, and also know how to communicate that meaning clearly to the offshore team.

The real meaning behind the words

Even when a translation is technically correct, the meaning can still be misunderstood if that context is not clearly explained.

For example, I’ve seen cases where timing and priority are implied rather than stated. In a meeting, my boss would say something like, “If possible, we’d like this done within the week” (できれば今週中に対応したい, dekireba konshuujuu ni taiou shitai).

Taken literally, this sounds optional. In Japanese cultural context, though, it reflects the strong expectation that the task should be completed within that timeframe, unless there is a clear reason it cannot be. Without having that cultural understanding, an offshore team might prioritize other tasks first.

Misaligned expectations

The way teams work in Japan is also often different from how teams operate in countries like Bangladesh. I’ve seen situations where this leads to confusion as to how a project should be executed.

In one project, the offshore team was assigned a feature and began working on it, but progress was not communicated clearly. Because I wasn’t hearing any updates or concerns, I assumed the work was proceeding as planned. However, as we approached the testing phase, it became clear that the feature still had a number of unresolved bugs.

From the Japanese team’s perspective, this was a serious issue. They expect regular progress updates so they can be confident that a project is on track. If they had known earlier that the team was struggling, they would have offered additional resources or adjusted the timeline.

On the other hand, the offshore team had been working hard to resolve the issues on their own. They were hesitant to raise problems too early because they did not want to disappoint the Japanese team. This difference in communication style—reporting issues early, versus trying to solve them independently—ended up delaying progress.

Experiences like this taught me that bridge engineering is not just about translating languages, but about creating shared expectations between teams. Many assumptions that remain implicit in Japanese communication need to be stated explicitly for offshore teams: how progress should be reported, when to escalate risks, and what stakeholders expect during development. A bridge engineer has to actively reinforce these expectations and confirm that both sides are aligned throughout the project.

Core responsibilities

In general, my job as a bridge engineer breaks down into three main areas of responsibility: communication, translation, and coordination.

Communication in real time

I often participate in meetings between Japanese stakeholders and overseas developers, usually acting as an interpreter. This includes not just translating words, but making sure the speaker’s intent is understood.

In my personal opinion, I believe a voice call will always be the best form of remote communication, because it allows ideas to be explained more clearly and in real time. Unlike written communication, a call lets people ask immediate questions, clarify misunderstandings, and adjust explanations on the spot. It also makes it easier to gauge the reactions of the people you are speaking with, through tone, pacing, and feedback, so you can tell whether your message is being understood. This kind of interaction helps prevent small miscommunications from becoming bigger issues.

Requirement translation

Specifications delivered in Japanese must be translated into English in a way that preserves the original meaning. This includes subtle cultural or business logic that may not be explicitly stated.

The same feature often needs to be explained in two completely different ways. For example, when I was working on an emotion analysis feature, the way I communicated it depended entirely on the audience.

When speaking with the Japanese team, our discussion focused on the purpose of the feature: what problem it was solving, what they expected it to achieve, and how it would improve the overall user experience. The conversation was about intent and value rather than implementation details.

However, when communicating the same feature to the offshore team in Bangladesh, I needed to give a much more detailed and technical explanation. This included defining exactly how each part of the feature should behave. I talked about what each button does, how the AI should respond in different scenarios, and how to handle edge cases.

Coordination and management

The role often overlaps with project management, but it is not exactly the same. I do not handle budgeting, but I am responsible for tracking progress, managing timelines, and making sure tasks are completed as expected. For example, I monitor each team member’s work and compare it against their reported hours to ensure consistency and accountability.

My responsibilities also extend into non-engineering areas. For example, I review learning materials that are being localized into English to ensure they are accurate and sound natural.

I also support our offshore team in practical ways. When members of our Bangladesh team apply to become full-time employees, they participate in a three-week internship in Japan. When this happens, I handle visa-related paperwork and arrange accommodations, so they can transition smoothly into working with the Japanese team.

A typical day at my job

Most mornings I start by checking messages from the offshore team in Bangladesh. Because of the time difference, they often make progress while the Japanese team is offline, so I review their updates, check completed tasks, and identify any issues.

As the Japanese workday starts, I join meetings with managers to discuss new features, ongoing tasks, and anything else that has come up. During these meetings, I take detailed notes and make sure I fully understand the requirements. I make sure to clarify the intent behind each request so that it can be communicated accurately to the offshore team.

After meetings, I translate and restructure the requirements into a set of instructions for the offshore team. This isn’t just translating word-to-word, but also involves breaking down vague or high-level requests into actionable tasks for the developers.

Throughout the day, I stay in close contact with the offshore team through chat and video calls. I answer questions, clarify specifications, and make sure that everyone is aligned on what needs to be built. Because real-time communication is limited by the time difference, I try to anticipate potential misunderstandings early and resolve them before they slow down development.

In addition to coordination, I also contribute on the technical side when needed. I review code, investigate bugs, and sometimes implement fixes myself. I also assist with testing to confirm that completed features behave correctly before they are delivered to the Japanese team.

Progress tracking is another ongoing part of the job. I monitor task status, compare reported work hours with actual output, and make adjustments to schedules when necessary. This helps ensure that the project stays on track and that expectations on both sides remain realistic.

At the end of the day, I compile updates and communicate our progress to the Japanese team, while also preparing instructions for the offshore team so they can continue working according to their time zone.

Common challenges

Industry reports on offshore development frequently identify communication gaps, unclear requirements, and cultural differences as major causes of project delays and quality issues.

The most difficult part of the job is not anything technical, but the weight of responsibility. A bridge engineer is responsible for cross-team communications. If something is misunderstood, both the misunderstanding itself and the process of clearing it up become my responsibility.

A concrete example of this happened during our AI emotion analysis project. I misunderstood where the feature was supposed to be integrated in the system. Based on my interpretation, we designed and implemented it in only one part of the product. However, the expectation from the Japanese side was that the same feature would be available in two different areas of the system.

This difference significantly impacted the technical design. The database structure and tables we originally created were built around a single integration point, so when we had to extend the feature to the second location, we were forced to redesign parts of the system and refactor existing logic. What initially seemed like a straightforward feature became much more complex and time-consuming than expected.

If I had understood the design from the beginning, we could have designed the system differently and implemented both use cases in a much more efficient way. Instead, the misunderstanding led to additional rework and delays.

Other common challenges include the following.

Time zone differences

Working with teams in countries like Bangladesh or Nepal means there’s a gap of several hours between our workday and theirs. Real-time communication is limited, which slows down feedback.

Cultural differences

Work habits vary. For example, scheduling must account for religious practices such as daily prayer times. Expectations around deadlines and reporting may also differ.

Meeting pressure

During live interpretation, losing focus for even a moment can result in missed or incorrect information.

For these reasons, many bridge engineers describe the role as stressful. Accuracy is not optional, though. It is the job.

Closing

Japan’s reliance on bridge engineers is not a temporary stopgap measure. The country is facing a growing shortage of IT talent. Estimates suggest that by 2030, Japan could be short 800,000 IT professionals, making it increasingly difficult for companies to maintain development capacity using domestic labor alone.

As a result, offshore development has shifted from a cost-saving strategy to a necessity. But offshore development introduces its own challenges: differences in language, expectations, and communication styles.

From my perspective, bridge engineering is a role that will continue to grow as more Japanese teams move toward global development. Companies, including my own, are also expanding into global markets, which increases the need for people who can communicate effectively across languages and cultures. Without clear communication, even simple tasks can become difficult to complete, and collaboration across teams begins to break down.

In that sense, the bridge engineer is no longer just a support role. It is already a critical part of how Japan’s software development ecosystem functions today, and will play an important role in how that industry continues to function in the future.

My Deaf Experience in Japan

2026-05-20T10:14:00+09:00

People with disabilities are not often visible in Japanese society for a variety of reasons. It’s extremely rare to meet people with deafness in a workplace.

I once asked my doctor at a major Japanese hospital how many of his patients over the decades have been able to join a mainstream workplace and lead successful, independent lives. His answer was a sigh—he couldn’t think of any.

I would be surprised if you found ten long-term international residents with deafness all in the same place, but if you gathered us and asked us what it’s like to be deaf in Japan, you’d likely get ten different answers.

This is my experience.

I am deaf, not Deaf
How did I make it to Japan?
Living and working in Japan while deaf
Choosing a silent daily life for myself

I am deaf, not Deaf

I want to make it clear that I am not Deaf. People who identify as capital-D “Deaf” come from a culture and community that is often based around sign language and a shared experience that I have never been a part of.

However, I am a small-D “deaf” person who has had a “mainstreamed” experience in the hearing world from birth. This was generally by my own choice and is why I do not consider myself to be Deaf.

Mechanically, what does this mean? I have profound hearing loss. If I’m out and about without my cochlear implant processor, and a car honks its horn immediately behind me, I will not be able to hear it. However, I’ll still react to it, because at that distance, I can feel those loud sounds on the hairs of my arms and inside my body.

What about legally? In Japan, I have a Type 1 disability certificate, which recognizes that I have a disability that significantly impacts my life and interactions.

How did I make it to Japan?

You may be wondering, “If you’re that deaf, how did you manage to learn Japanese and move to Japan?”

Short answer

Short answer: It was tough! People remark on how fluent my Japanese is, but I’ve been here for 20 years.

I also have mechanical assistance, a lot of rehabilitation, and a plethora of excellent coping and masking behaviors, to the point where people will often say things like “I had no idea you were deaf,” or “I thought that thing on your head was just a Bluetooth thing!”

Long answer

The long answer is more complex. I was lucky that my hearing loss suddenly started with no discernible cause when I was about two; it was late enough that I had already started to pick up speech, which is why I can generally speak without the stereotypical tone associated with deafness.

By the time I was five, I relied completely on hearing aids to be able to hear anything at all. I wore hearing aids on both ears and thought I got along fine, but in hindsight, it was a struggle. Things like movies and TV were useless to me since neither closed captioning nor subtitles were as ubiquitous then as they are now. This actually influenced what I grew up watching. Some popular shows, such as Friends, didn’t consistently have closed captions, but other shows, like Star Trek: The Next Generation, were all but guaranteed to have closed captions.

In fact, the main reason I got interested in Japan and Japanese was because a friend pointed out that Japanese anime and TV shows basically had a 100% chance of having subtitles.

I also didn’t get into music culture when I was a kid. A lot of kids immersed themselves in music via tapes, CDs, or radio. Since I couldn’t hear well enough to distinguish voices or lyrics, my go-to as a kid was music without vocals, like classical music, orchestral soundtracks (the Return of the Jedi Special Edition soundtrack was almost always on loop), techno like Orbital, or even Kenny G.

I was shocked when I found out much later that Kenny G is not very popular!

Before the internet, people relied on telephones to reach each other, chat, and coordinate things. This meant that I would often miss out on talking to friends outside of school unless they were online (which was rare back then, as most people didn’t have home internet!) and I often wasn’t invited to parties or other activities. I couldn’t hear well enough to use a telephone at all; the most I could pick up was some vague noise and murmurs.

Deafness is not only about volume. There are many aspects to sound and auditory processing that determine whether speech is intelligible. The obvious answer to many people is “Just make it louder!” Unfortunately, that often doesn’t help, as many people may be missing hearing in specific frequencies, or may not have the ability to process those sounds into speech. This was the case for me.

My school district required everyone to take at least two years of a foreign language, and I opted for Latin out of necessity because it is a dead language that largely goes unspoken outside of most settings. In other words, my lack of hearing was a non-issue.

My cochlear implant: not perfect, but it helps

The winter before I turned 16, I opted for a cochlear implant in my left ear. This completely replaced my hearing aid with two parts: an inner part with electrodes to directly stimulate my auditory nerve, and an outer part called the “processor,” which contains a microphone, a processor to process audio from the microphone, and a transmitter to send the signal to the inner part.

A lot of media portrays cochlear implants as miracles, and they are. However, they don’t result in effortless, perfect hearing. I went through (and still do) a lot of rehabilitative exercises to be able to distinguish and understand sounds. Today I have around 80% of a normal range of hearing in a quiet environment.

The implant lets me hear lots of small sounds that I never knew existed, like the rumbles of my stomach or my shirt rubbing on my skin. Because I didn’t grow up hearing, I often can’t distinguish what those sounds are. Sometimes I actually think noise is someone talking to me, or vice versa. Another situation I often find myself in is that I hear a sound, but I don’t know how to describe it in order to ask other people about it.

One of the great ironies of my life is that I have tinnitus, but never knew what it was. Audiologists would ask if I had “ringing” in my ears, but I would think, “Hmm, no phones or bells in my head,” and say I was fine. It was only when I was well into my 30s, while talking to a friend, that I learned that the humming, beeping, and whining I hear is tinnitus.

The cochlear implant also gave me the opportunity to do things that hearing people take for granted, like study Japanese—a living language that people actually speak every day.

Living and working in Japan while deaf

Communicating

There are a lot of aspects to communicating in Japan, but it’s still mostly speech-based, whether that’s in person, on the phone, or in video calls.

Phone calls and their alternatives

Many lines of business support are exclusively available via phone calls. Ironically, when I first arrived in Japan, the fax machine—which many international residents complain is an outdated holdover from a previous century—had been helpful to me, as people would happily fax me forms and explanations.

The result of this is that I go out of my way to choose services that can support me via text or online.

The contractor I rely on heavily for house renovations and repairs has a manager who is willing to do all contact with me through LINE. I have chosen all of my dog trimmers on a similar basis. I almost always choose Amazon over other stores (even when it doesn’t have the best value) because they have text-based chat support that is simple to access. I’ve refused to use banks because of bad teller or manager experiences where they would insist that I make phone calls in front of them. I choose restaurants and hotels based on whether I can make reservations or requests online, and avoid ones that have only phone support.

Incoming phone calls are another problem: if I’m not expecting one, then I have to scramble to get my processor, put it on, wait around 15 seconds for it to boot, and find a quiet space. By the time I’ve done that, the caller has often already given up. This can be quite stressful when I look up the number and realize it was something like a hospital or a tax office calling me, and frustrating when it’s a delivery driver calling to say they’re coming later in the day when I had already scheduled the delivery.

In person

In-person communication is often tough nowadays as well. I rely a lot on my ability to combine context, lip cues and lip reading, and the sounds I can hear. However, post-Covid Japan has especially become a world of masks in professional settings. Add in the post-Covid plastic barriers everywhere, and I have no visual cues and also two layers blocking sound. At that point, I’m relying almost wholly on context and lucky guesses, so there’s almost no point to having my processor on at all.

This can result in some awkward situations, such as when dining with friends who speak less Japanese than I. Waiters will often gravitate toward me as the most Japanese-looking person, but in reality, the odds are that I can’t hear them clearly. This means I have to redirect the waiter to my companion, who can actually hear the waiter, even though they may speak less Japanese. Or perhaps the waiter insists on approaching me from my right side, where I’m completely deaf and can’t hear a thing at all—I’ve occasionally been taken by surprise and scared out of my wits by suddenly realizing there was someone leaning over right by my shoulder!

In other, more critical situations, I have to fall back on dogged persistence in asking for written explanations, and insistence on clarification and detail. Many people will tend to write brief notes because they don’t want to write everything they would normally say, which means that I can miss out on important details if I’m asking about an order or my taxes.

It’s my responsibility to be persistent (sometimes to the point where the other person thinks I’m annoying or rude) and get the details I need to feel comfortable that I understand something. Some interactions are great, but you will always be your own best advocate.

Accommodations in the workplace

Since 2024, workplaces in Japan have been required to provide reasonable accommodations (合理的配慮, gouriteki hairyo). The main catch is that companies are allowed to refuse if they can prove that a given accommodation causes “undue hardship,” such as financial cost or technical difficulties. In these cases, companies are required to provide an explanation to the employee and must still seek alternative solutions collaboratively.

What I have found firsthand and heard from others is that Western companies and newer Japanese companies are both aware of and more comfortable with workplace accommodations and related laws. This does not mean that you cannot get accommodations in a more traditional Japanese small or medium business, but it does mean that you will likely be more responsible for providing facts and options while collaboratively advocating for your own needs.

Professional communications can be another issue; some workplaces are very phone-heavy, and others are very meeting-heavy. Additionally, some companies in Japan operate largely via email, which can be a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because everything is in writing to begin with, but a curse because you now have 5,000 emails to read every day.

Online meetings

For online meetings, I try to redirect everything to a meeting software I can control. My personal preference is Google Meet, since it’s browser-based and I know it has relatively stable support for live captions in Japanese.

I say “relatively stable” because one of the frustrations of these features is that companies can change them on a whim. For about two months this year, the English captions were essentially unusable in Google Meet: they would take minutes before they started, would often fall out of sync, and occasionally turned into strings of complete gibberish. This is devastating when you rely on them.

Some companies will insist on Zoom or some other software, even if I point out that the captioning feature isn’t good enough for me to follow along well. This happened to me when I was looking for mortgages, and in several cases resulted in the immediate dismissal of my application, due to the bank agent not feeling comfortable with their ability to communicate with me. It has also happened to me with external contractors at work with their own requirements, and in those cases I just have to do the best I can.

A workaround, if you’re on Windows, is to use the built-in closed captioning. In many ways, the quality is better than Google Meet, so I would often use the two at the same time to get two streams of text that I could look at and decipher along with the audio to build a better “best guess” of what people were saying. However, it captions all audio from the OS and thus cannot distinguish between speakers, so it’s less helpful in a multi-person meeting where you’d want to know who said something.

These are generally simple solutions as they don’t require any action on the part of the other parties, which means they’re much more willing to accept them.

I currently work in a macOS environment and cannot use the Windows live captioning, but I make do with other solutions:

Macwhisper has been in continuous development for years and is always improving; they recently released low-latency live captioning. It’s not currently fast enough for my purposes, but often helps in a pinch when combined with other captioning options. Its main feature is transcription, which can be amazing when you need to catch up on recordings. It runs entirely locally and is invisible to other people.
Caption.ed does not have Japanese support, but has excellent English support, especially across different accents. Google struggles with accents and Caption.ed has been an excellent secondary resource for me. The downside is that its most useful feature requires you to add it to a meeting, which your workplace or coworkers may not want to allow.

In-person meetings

In-person meetings are also very common in Japan, and can be extremely difficult to deal with. I prefer online meetings as much as possible since I can use closed captioning tools, but in-person meetings have their own charm and many people prefer to meet in person when possible. These are some common accommodations I have been successful in asking for and receiving.

Quiet, isolated meeting rooms: I specifically ask for this every time, as some people may assume that a cafe atmosphere is more relaxing for everyone, or that we’d be ok having one at a table in the middle of the office.
Changing seating position: I can only hear on my left side, which means that it’s better for me to be seated on the rightmost side. I also want to sit in a place where I can view everyone’s faces for lip reading and lip cues.

Below are some accommodations that I often ask for, but without reasonable expectation that they will be granted.

Mask removal: There are clear health and hygiene reasons why people will not want to remove their masks, and that’s absolutely fine. I only ask that people remove their masks if they feel comfortable doing so and I make it clear that it will absolutely help me understand them better.
Hand-raising: In multi-person meetings especially, it can be difficult to know who’s speaking when the speaker suddenly changes. Hand-raising also tends to curtail interruptions, which helps me follow conversation changes. However, it’s not a common practice in Japan and invites questions of moderation and hierarchy, which can be uncomfortable in some contexts.
Rooms without echoes: This is just a difficult one to figure out if you don’t have a set of meeting rooms that everyone’s familiar with. It’s often a case of “best effort,” and I’m absolutely fine with that.

My social life has often relied on me finding people who are comfortable meeting me on my terms, in relatively quiet places where I can hear them. For the longest time, I was extremely uncomfortable going to karaoke because—despite every song being effectively “subtitled”—it was a primarily “hearing” experience. This closed off a lot of social life options in my early 20s.

I also veer away from more physical activities as well, as I risk my processor falling off or getting damaged. While I did kendo for a number of years, I chose to do it completely deaf because I had to take off the processor to participate.

Once I take off the processor, though, social activities become less and less appealing. Why do something with your friends when you can’t talk to them? It turns out that even simple things like onsen can be less fun when you’re sitting isolated in complete silence. Add in the frustration of people’s friendly, persistent efforts to communicate, and it becomes more stressful than relaxing.

The best way for me to have a social life has been to find people who are comfortable having quiet meals together, who are willing to type stuff out and send me messages on LINE in the worst situations even if we’re sitting side by side, and who are good natured about repeating things or understanding when I’ve completely misheard something.

Dating can be tough, especially if you add in the need to explain your disability upfront. The reality is that anyone you’d want to date long-term is going to “find out” anyway, so you might as well just let them know in advance.

In terms of activities, non-Japanese movies are surprisingly good, as the English audio ones have Japanese subtitles. If you can read Japanese quickly enough, then it’s very effective for understanding what’s going on, especially in combination with views of people’s mouths, the existing audio, and context clues.

I’ve also had a lot of success in smaller organized activity groups, such as those for card or board games, which I find through social networks like Twitter and occasionally sites like Meetup.

A lot of my current Japanese social life comes from online groups, where the text-first format means my hearing is effectively never a barrier to entry. This won’t always scratch the itch for everyone though, since there’s often no face-to-face contact in Japanese online groups, and you may go years without ever learning anyone’s real name.

Finances

There’s an unseen financial aspect to my hearing that has driven my career choices my whole life. To put it bluntly, I spend around:

50,000 yen per year on replacement parts (cables, headpieces, etc.)
200,000 yen per year on special batteries that need to be replaced annually
200,000 yen per year in savings to replace the processor every five years or so

The company that produces my cochlear implant processor has a very strong lock-in effect: I cannot easily switch makers because of the piece that’s surgically implanted in my ear. So when the company decides to change prices, or stop producing hardware, I need to have the money to be ready.

The major cochlear implant makers, including mine, are based out of the US, so everything is imported through a Japanese pass-through company that handles customer support and proxy orders. In fact, as of the time of this writing, the lead time on me ordering a replacement battery is two to three months!

The processors do eventually break down (especially in the humidity of Japanese summers) and need repairs, so that’s something I have to budget for. However, the company itself may stop producing parts for the current processor model, so repairs or replacements have to be sourced through an unreliable stock of used devices. This clearly isn’t a great option when hearing is critical for my work.

So every five years or so, I have to upgrade to a new processor. It’s much easier to save a bit every year than it is to try to produce a million yen out of thin air.

I once bluntly asked my doctor how his patients who are unemployed or in low wage jobs cope with these needs. He said that they receive some level of financial assistance from their municipality or their families, but for the most part they may choose to live deaf with broken equipment for a period of time until they can afford things again. Some simply stop using their equipment, opting instead to return to being completely deaf.

There are also expenses for the medical care itself. Other countries often have laxer standards, but Japan differs significantly in that:

Adjustments to the program that runs on the processor can only be applied by a doctor, in person
Patients are required to visit the doctor for a checkup every six months

Any procedures or checkups have to be done at a hospital affiliated with the company that makes your cochlear implant hardware. For me, the best option is about a three-hour trip into Tokyo to a major hospital; this represents significant time and money spent. I only have to go twice a year if nothing goes wrong, but it is something to keep in mind if you’re thinking about moving to Japan.

Fortunately, payments for all of these things can be applied to the medical deduction on your income tax return, which can result in some savings on your taxes or some amount of money back. Every little bit helps.

Different municipalities offer different types of benefits or allowances. Many of them are specific or restricted to people under a certain level of income, but it’s worth stopping by the disability welfare counter (障害者福祉課の窓口, shougaisha fukushi-ka no madoguchi) to ask about them to make sure you know what your municipality offers.

Advocating for yourself

Nobody knows your situation as well as you, and nobody knows what you need as well as you do.

Often, advocating for yourself means going the extra mile and explaining your deafness time after time after time. It’s an old, tired topic to you, but new to almost everyone you’ll meet and interact with. If you can establish that context and explanation up front, it can make the interaction less frustrating for the other person: rather than “This person is annoyingly specific,” they can hopefully frame it as “This person can’t hear me and needs this kind of help.”

I find that this is very important to me as a non-Japanese person, as the other party may have assumptions that I don’t have.

Advocating for yourself also means sometimes knowing that it’s ok to be uncomfortable and asking for an accommodation, such as if a contact can reach out to you via email or text message. Often the answer will be “No,” but sometimes it will be “Yes,” and that chance of making my life easier is what pushes me to ask.

If you ever needed a push in asking for reasonable accommodation, this is that push! People often point out that Japanese culture is about harmony, fitting in, and not making waves. Having a disability is the opposite of this. I strongly believe that having a disability does not mean that you should minimize yourself and “suck it up.” I believed this for a few years, and they were the most miserable, stressful years of my time here.

Anyone with a disability in Japan should know that Japanese law since 2016 has promoted the elimination of discrimination against people with disabilities (unofficial English translation).

Choosing a silent daily life for myself

On the face of it, having the cochlear implant seems like a miracle: hearing where there previously was none. However, it comes with tradeoffs, so many that I often choose to live life here completely deaf without using the processor, unless I know I have hearing interactions coming up, such as meetings at work or someone coming to visit.

These experiences aren’t universal to cochlear implant recipients. They vary greatly by implant type, model, age of implantation, and so many more factors.

Constantly being conscious of ambient noise and trying to understand which ones “matter” to me is very tiring. The processor itself has weight and makes my ear hurt over time when combined with my glasses, and it falls off easily—especially if I’m lying down, leaning my head back, or moving suddenly.

The headpiece of the processor sticks to the side of my head with a magnet that’s paired with the implant itself. Hair thickness, hairstyle, body fat, skull thickness, and implantation location all affect the strength of this connection. For me, this means that if my head isn’t completely shaved at that paired point, sometimes simply going down stairs makes the headpiece wobble precariously!

I can tell you that on sleepy mornings, nothing has woken me up faster than the times I’ve thought I’ve broken or lost a 1,000,000 yen medical device.

So I often find it easier and more relaxing for myself to go about my daily life deaf.

At home

I miss all kinds of auditory cues that many people take for granted!

Doorbells are an obvious one. If there’s a delivery and they want to talk to me rather than just leaving the package, then I have to rely on my dogs’ reactions to know that something happened that needs my attention. Luckily, in the last few years, smart doorbells have gotten more ubiquitous and I can keep an eye on my phone for alerts. There are also options for flashing lights, but they’re less than practical for me due to the wiring requirements, and also I would have to place the lights in multiple rooms. So I mostly rely on my phone and my dogs.

Another embarrassing issue is just missing the sheer number of beeps and melodies that come out of Japanese appliances. Once I spoiled a freezer full of food because the door was jammed slightly ajar, but I never heard it beeping.

Another time, my oven had an error that frustrated me for days until a friend pointed out that it was beeping in a specific pattern that was listed in the manual. Even if I had had my processor on, I doubt I would have picked that up.

And still many, many more times, I’ve forgotten about something in my microwave, rice cooker, or washing machine because I never heard the repeated beeps and it just slipped my mind.

Outside the house

Going about my life completely deaf can cause problems outside the house, too. Sometimes I’ll run some errands completely deaf and people will mention later that they had tried to talk to me, only to think that I was purposefully ignoring them!

This can seem doubly intentional to them since I “mask” well and they may have no awareness of me as a deaf person, or even awareness of what it means to be deaf. There’s no simple way for people to tell that I can’t hear them; even if they’re aware that I can’t hear without the cochlear implant processor, they may not know to look for it. And even if I do have it on, there’s still a high chance that I simply didn’t hear them—especially if they weren’t on my left side, where I have the processor!

Due to the lack of deaf representation in Japan, and particularly in Japanese media, many people do not have a good understanding of the impact of deafness or how to communicate with deaf people.

I’ve had interactions where people assure me that “You can just call the help line and ask!” or assume I heard an announcement in a station, or a crucial comment in a fast-moving conversation. Those are just fundamental elements of their daily lives that they can’t imagine not existing for someone else.

When I interact with staff, such as in busy restaurants or convenience stores, it’s not much of a change for me to do so without my processor, because the background noise would have still made it extremely difficult to understand anything. At places where I’m a regular, some of the staff even remember me and have paper on hand to write down things for me.

One of the reasons it can be simple to get away without hearing is because I know Japanese, and the culture of Japanese language means it is often very formulaic.

Most convenience store interactions are scripted. I know that if I’m shipping a package, the first question is usually about what day/time I want to set the package’s arrival for. If I’m buying food, I know they’ll ask if I want to heat it, if I want chopsticks, and so on.

If I were speaking English in America, it would be much more likely that someone would ask how I’m doing, or try to make conversation, etc. I would definitely look rude, or someone could get angry at me for not responding. That’s less likely in Japan.

Weather concerns

Another reason I often choose not to wear the processor is the weather.

Humidity and moisture cause mineral buildup and both short- and long-term damage to the hardware, so I try to avoid them when I can. This includes not only rain, but also my own sweat. If the processor gets wet, then I won’t be able to hear for an entire day, which means that moisture is something I think about seriously when considering whether to participate in social events.

This also makes me avoid events such as festivals where water could be thrown around, and environments like the beach or the pool. Unless I explain everything, this can seem overblown to other people. They’ll often say things like, “What if you put it in a bag?” (then it’s safe, but I can’t hear) or “I’m sure it won’t happen!” (easy to say when you’re not gambling with your own hearing) or “Even if you can’t hear, we’ll still have fun!” (not so fun for the person who can’t participate in conversations).

Conclusion

This is my deaf experience.

I advocate for myself strongly and make a lot of choices based on how accessible something is, or how much friction my presence could cause for other parties. It’s a balancing act I have to face almost every single day here, but I would be looking at making many of the same compromises no matter where I lived.

If you’re deaf and are thinking about living in Japan, these are some good questions to consider:

How good is my Japanese?
Am I comfortable being uncomfortable?
Will I advocate for myself?

Even if you answer “No” to any of these questions, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Perhaps you can learn more Japanese before coming here, or maybe there is coaching available to help you navigate difficult situations and advocate for yourself more. Maybe a good intermediary step is to visit Japan for a few weeks and see how it feels to be here. There are many ways to adapt, and accommodations you can ask for.

If you have a disability, I hope you’ve learned that things will be difficult, but not impossible.

If you do not have a disability, I hope this article has revealed aspects of daily life that you may not have thought about for people with disabilities. Many of us have to put tremendous effort into “normal” activities.

It’s definitely possible to settle in Japan with deafness—I’ve been in Japan for almost two decades at this point, and I now own a house in the countryside where I have a nice, quiet life with my two dogs.

One Decade of Experience, Zero Offers in Japan—Until I Could Move

2026-05-12T16:48:39+09:00

In 2024, when my wife and I decided to move to Japan, I thought I was an ideal candidate. I had 10 years experience in web development and a Computer Science degree from a top university. I’ve worked for startups, large companies, and universities. Whenever I looked for a new role in the UK, I could usually find one within a week. Recruiters messaged me daily, and switching on “Looking for work” on LinkedIn would trigger hundreds of messages.

So how hard could finding a job in Japan be? I kicked off a six-month job search and soon had my answer.

Recruiters ignored me. Roles I applied for often had over 500 applicants. For each role, somebody else had 20 years experience, or was ex-FAANG, or didn’t care about compensation. How could I beat them?

What I discovered is that there are many ways to become a great candidate in Japan. Hiring managers want someone who will start immediately, show up, and be a pleasure to work with. I adjusted my strategy accordingly, and that effort paid off.

I took a risky route that isn’t available to everyone. Being British, I used a Working Holiday visa as my route into Japan, then took a two-month contract through a dispatch agency, which led to them sponsoring me for a Certificate of Eligibility for an Engineer/Specialist in Humanities/International Services visa.

Tracking my stats
Why I was a “bad candidate”
Turning myself into a “good candidate”
What actually got me in the door
- Working Holiday visa
- Dispatch agencies
How I got the job
Transitioning to an Engineer visa
Final advice

Application statistics

Many people complain about job searching in Japan. I knew it would be easy to become pessimistic, so I automated and tracked my approach. For each role I noted the job requirements, when I sent my application, and the dates of each following stage.

I marked jobs as stale when they didn’t reply for two weeks. I didn’t worry about following up on roles, choosing to send and forget. After all, most roles have hundreds of applicants; no human has time to read 500 applications and respond to each one.

In addition, I tracked whether each application resulted in an interview, and then whether that interview resulted in a tech test. These were some of my results:

TokyoDev: 40 applications -> 16 interviews (40% conversion)
LinkedIn Jobs: 200 applications -> 3 interviews (1.5% conversion)
Daijob: 60 applications -> 1 interview (1.6% conversion)

TokyoDev roles were the most likely to convert to an interview. They were also the most competitive, with hundreds of applications per role. The technical tests were demanding, with some taking weeks.

Why I was a “bad candidate”

Right candidate, wrong country

While I was searching job boards and reaching out to recruiters on LinkedIn, Paul Roberts replied to me with a message as long as the one I’d sent him. Our connection as fellow Brits helped the conversation flow, and he explained to me how recruitment works in Japan.

If he suggested me as a top candidate, some clients would consider him a bad recruiter. I was in the wrong country, with no right to work and no connection to Japan. Why should they trust I would show up, or stay longer than six months? His job is to make his clients happy, and few clients would be happy with what I was offering.

Another hiring manager told me they simply no longer take candidates from overseas. In the last ten roles they had hired from abroad, two had ghosted them on their start date. A third hiring manager revealed that the role I was interviewing for had over 600 applications.

I felt I did have a connection to Japan, though. I grew up in Singapore, and have lived since then in England, Japan, and Taiwan. I’ve been on holiday to Japan three times, and then my wife and I spent from 2022–2023 traveling across Japan on Working Holiday visas.

Since I’d already lived in Japan for a year, I knew how to go to the town hall, get a phone number, get a bank account, and pay my bills there. That would beat many candidates’ experiences, but I knew there was still more I could do to overcome the disadvantage of not yet being in Japan.

Making myself more hirable

When reading your CV, most recruiters are trying to figure out the following:

Does the candidate live in Japan?
Has the candidate lived or worked in Japan before?
Will this candidate actually show up?

I wasn’t just looking for any job. I wanted a job in Japan, and I made every modification I could to show that.

I reorganized my CV, profile, and portfolio around Japan

I added katakana to my LinkedIn name. In my profile, I highlighted my low level of Japanese skill (“low” beats “zero”). I updated my portfolio to have a Japanese language toggle. My goal was an English-speaking role, so these were just signals to show that I was serious.

I also made a Japanese version of my CV, again not because I was looking for a Japanese role, but to show I was taking my job search seriously.

I reframed my job history for Japanese hiring managers

As a freelancer my CV is erratic. I’d spent the last five years traveling the world and supporting a variety of startups. To appeal to Japanese employers, though, I knew I needed to position myself as a reliable, long-term developer for big businesses.

Instead of hiding my job history in my CV, I tried to be explicit about why my job history was that way. It wasn’t that I was unreliable: I had been trying to move to another country, and the pandemic had interfered with that. I also highlighted specific experiences and skills that were relevant to the positions I applied to.

I networked on LinkedIn

LinkedIn worked very well for me in the UK, so I tried to shift my network to Tokyo.

It was possible I could land in Japan without a job, so I looked for people who ran events I wanted to attend if that happened. I decided I would go to TokyoDev, NetWalking, and Tokyo Recruiter events. That would cover me for developer roles, startups, and recruiters.

Through this process Alex Ngai leaped out as somebody unique. Alex wrote posts that felt human. He was the first person in Japan who had a real conversation with me. He suggested I talk to Levi Pells, who runs meetups and retreats.

After connecting with these two, LinkedIn highlighted even more people that I knew were likely to be at the meetups I planned on attending. The people I talked to at this time were later the ones who hugged me when I arrived, and helped me settle in.

I studied for the JLPT N4

During this time, I also studied for the JLPT N4, the second-lowest level of Japanese proficiency recognised in Japan. While I’d self-studied for five years, I was embarrassed to still hold only a JLPT N5. These levels aren’t competitive, but that wasn’t my strategy.

I had shifted my perspective from “How do I be the best?” to “How do I beat most of my competition?” If a candidate was better at Japanese than me, but didn’t hold JLPT N5, I’d beat them at the CV stage.

Anyone can write “Intermediate Japanese” on a CV. Sitting the JLPT shows that for over six months somebody has been committed to studying Japanese, and that makes a difference.

And, I got married

Meanwhile, I wasn’t the only one in my family looking for a job in Japan. My girlfriend and I had been partners for almost 15 years, and we naturally wanted to maximize our chances of living and working in the same country. We also knew that one of us might find a role in Japan months or years before the other; if so, Japan’s Dependent visa could help us stay together. However, that visa only covers an applicant’s dependent children and/or spouse, not unmarried partners.

Our solution: get married! We love each other, so this was the easiest and most enjoyable part of the process.

What actually got me in the door

After I added my JLPT N5 to my resume and created a Japanese resume to signal my seriousness, people started to trust that I would be arriving soon. Interviews pivoted from “Can you be here in six months?” to “How about we have the next interview in person?”

Still, the competition was fierce. Any time I managed to reach a real human, I’d ask them questions about their hiring process. One told me they had around 650 applicants; in that many applicants, there is at least one ex-FAANG developer who wants to move to Japan. I’m confident in my skill level, but also realistic. That left me wondering if there was something more I could do.

I decided to overcome the biggest hurdle, which was not being physically in Japan. To accomplish this, I got the easiest visa I could, and worked with flexible dispatch agencies. A temporary contract with an odd visa, I decided, was better than not being in Japan at all.

These were difficult choices, but they’re the ones that finally got me through the door.

Working Holiday visa (again)

I considered some different visa options to relocate to Japan ASAP, but in the end I decided to apply for a Working Holiday visa. Even if I couldn’t locate a job immediately, a year of attending language school, networking events, and internships in Japan was only going to help. That was already what I was doing, but in the wrong country.

Luckily for the British, we can now apply for a second year of Working Holiday in Japan. I applied one month before I turned 31, when I would have aged out of the Working Holiday scheme.

The big downside of this method was that if I did find a long-term role, I would eventually have to end my current visa, and a new application would have to be made in person in London. Residents from Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Germany, and South Korea, however, are explicitly allowed to transition from a Working Holiday visa to a new residency status within the country.

This process is not a common or well-documented one, but immigration assured me this was allowed. I also spoke again to a few of the kinder recruiters I’d come to know, and asked them all if they’d had candidates arrive on student or Working Holiday visas. Some checked with their own HR departments to make sure the process was legal. They all confirmed I wasn’t the first to take these routes.

Now my CV was updated to say I had the right to work in Japan and would be there within one month. Suddenly, I was a very viable candidate. Recruiters that couldn’t help me before now could, and that led directly to my next steps.

Dispatch agencies

At the start of this process, I’d never heard of dispatch agencies (派遣, haken), which are companies that dispatch and manage temporary staff to contract roles, often analogous to temp work in other countries.

Benefits and downsides

In the UK, I’d call this kind of company a temp agency, though in practice the work seems much more technical than what I’d expect of a temp employee. In Japan, dispatch work is not considered impressive or stable.

Yet I’ve met a few developers who stay in dispatch roles by choice. The dispatch company is your employer, paying your salary, taxes, and health insurance, and sometimes will also sponsor an initial visa. At Michael Page specifically, I found that not only is overtime paid, it’s paid at a higher rate than usual hours. You can take unlimited unpaid holidays, and work from home, though these choices won’t impress your client.

Another nice benefit is that, because dispatch agencies charge by the hour, they set a cap on interview length. Interviewing as a dispatch employee usually calls for a single meeting, with an offer to start next week.

The downside is the lack of stability. At Michael Page specifically (other companies may do it differently), the agency won’t hire you without an initial contract. Contracts are usually only three months long, and you get one month’s notice of extension or termination. The reputation of working as a dispatch employee can also give the impression you aren’t a good hire.

Is dispatch too risky?

Early in my search, I accidentally applied for a dispatch role with Robert Half, the first recruiter to be eager to speak with me. Through our conversation I unpacked what it meant to be a dispatch hire, and it seemed like an exciting offer: easier interviews, faster placement, and the potential to work at larger companies like Rakuten, PayPay, Woven, and similar.

At first, though, I couldn’t get over the short-term nature of the contracts. If the role didn’t go well, this option could lead to me returning to my chaotic job search in just a few short months. My partner and I concluded that this felt too risky, but we also decided that if I didn’t have an offer three months later, I would be in touch.

Crunching the numbers

Exhausted by unending technical tests, I did follow up on the call three months later. I wanted to understand how stable these roles were.

My contact told me that out of his 80 placements over two years, 40 were still on the same contract. Over that period, only 2 had been terminated. That’s a 97.5 percent success rate. These statistics outperformed my own experience as a contractor in the UK.

I decided that was an acceptable risk, and to pursue dispatch roles alongside the others I was still in the running for.

My experience with Michael Page

When I decided to apply for a dispatch job after all, I went with a competing agency, Michael Page, because I had already connected organically with a recruiter there, Hikari Takamura. Michael Page got me my current position at Rakuten, and thus my work visa to enter Japan.

The way Michael Page works, I needed to interview directly with Rakuten and secure an offer from them. Then Michael Page would employ me as a contractor.

Landing the job

While on a last holiday in Singapore, I managed to line up my interview with Rakuten and a conversation with my handler at Michael Page for the same day.

I’d been told Rakuten was excited by my CV, which was refreshing to finally hear. I felt quite relaxed. I was also told the interview would be thirty minutes. Instead, it lasted sixty.

The technical aspects of the interview involved JavaScript, TypeScript, and modern React. A few questions were about how I would deal with problems with team management. Half of the interview was questions about life in Japan, and my experience living there before.

These questions were shocking to me. They were also the questions I had recently learned how to answer. I was a good candidate: I’d be there soon, I’d lived there before, and I spoke a bit of the language. I wasn’t afraid to go to town hall or to get rejected from an apartment. None of these are exciting responses to questions about working in Japan, but they showed I knew what I was doing.

I asked if I could start the following Monday, but also added that I would need time in a few months to return to the UK to attend a wedding and change my visa status. They agreed.

Minutes after the interview was over, my handler from Michael Page called me. We discussed the interview and I received the most positive feedback I’d gotten in my job search. I recognized this as an early warning that a job offer would come shortly after.

Japan, here I come!

I received the contract two days later on Friday. I flew back from Singapore to the UK four days later. That gave me four days in Manchester to pack up everything I needed.

I sorted out a short-term rental as close to the office as possible through Sakura House, and landed in Tokyo on October 31st. Of course, the flight lost my bag.

I moved into my apartment in Setagaya on November 1st. On November 4th, at 10 a.m., I was waiting in the lobby of the Rakuten offices, in some backup work clothes I’d bought over the weekend.

What a dispatch contract looks like

The structure of my employment is that I started on a two-month trial contract. After one month they extended it by three more months. At this point I’m confident it will be renewed every three months. I hope that Rakuten will eventually convert me to a direct, permanent employee.

Most developers around me are either dispatch employees, or recently-converted dispatch employees. There is no sense that they are low-quality developers. I am surrounded by people far smarter than me, who are happy to share what they know.

Transitioning to an Engineer visa

Once in Japan I had two goals:

Get an Engineer/Specialist in Humanities/International Services visa, so my spouse could join me as my dependent.
Transition from dispatch work to being a permanent employee.

Getting the Engineer visa was a very easy step, and I had this process started within six weeks of beginning the role. This involved my dispatch agency sponsoring my Engineer visa, and we completed that step in December.

I returned to the UK with my CoE and a visa form. The process was the same as the Working Holiday visa application, but far simpler. Upon returning to Japan, my re-entry permit was terminated, and my resident card had a hole punched through it. I was then immediately given a new card.

Technically I moved out of Japan for the two weeks I was in the UK. That meant I had to “move out” at my town hall and immediately “move in” on my new visa. For some banks, leaving like this means you have to close your account; luckily that didn’t apply to me. I cannot understate the bureaucracy that was endured, but hopefully that’s the last time I will have to do it.

And that brings you to where I am today. My next goal is transitioning away from the dispatch agency and into a permanent role at Rakuten. Many coworkers seem happy with the dispatch life, but I can’t deny the advantages being a permanent employee brings.

Conclusion

When I started this process, I had so much confidence, based on my experience job-hunting in the UK. How much harder was job-seeking in Japan? By far the hardest it’s ever been for me.

Everything changed once I understood that hiring managers weren’t just asking “Is this the best developer?” but also “Will this person actually show up, stay, and make our lives easier?” The Working Holiday Visa proved I could be in Japan quickly. The dispatch agency removed friction from the hiring process. My CV, network, and story showed I was serious about being there long-term. With all these combined, I beat their doubts that I would ever make it to Japan.

If you’re trying to do the same, focus less on perfection and more on credibility. Show that you can get to Japan, that you understand what living there is actually like, and that you’re committed to staying.

I started my first job ten years ago, in Manchester. In winter the sun set early, it rained a lot, and I walked to work along a foggy ring road. Now I sit down at my desk with a blue sky view of Mt. Fuji, and it feels like all that hard work has paid off.

How I Used Language School to Land a Japanese Tech Job

2026-05-12T16:43:27+09:00

The story of how I moved to Japan is nothing particularly new or unique. Enrolling in language school with the aim of eventually getting a job in Japan is one common route among many.

Nonetheless, it was absolutely the right move for me, and I’d highly recommend it to others in the IT industry as a great entry point into Japan.

In this article I’ll go into detail on the language school route, as someone who has been through the process in 2022, and was then able to successfully land a job as Project Manager for a Japanese e-commerce company.

Why I chose to attend Japanese language school
Why I suggest a school outside the big cities
How long my course lasted
The steps of enrollment
Where I lived (and why)
What we studied in class
How much language school and life in Japan costs
Why getting a part-time job is really important
How long it took me to reach N2
How I conducted my job hunt, and what I learned from it

Why did I go to language school?

I had several specific reasons for moving to Japan as a student first, before finding a job.

My JLPT N4 level wasn’t going to be enough

First, I knew my future job in Japan would require me to possess a high level of Japanese. To share a bit about my background, I am a project manager with over a decade of experience in my home country, and I am also ITIL and PMP-certified. In terms of Japanese ability, I had already passed both JLPT N5 and N4 before moving to Japan.

It was obvious to me that if I wanted to be a successful project manager in Japan, I needed to be able to communicate in Japanese fluently with my clients and colleagues. My N4 wasn’t going to cut it.

I made it my goal while in language school to pass at least JLPT N2, and then look for a job afterwards.

Language school let me ease into life in Japan

Second, moving to Japan as a student first helped ease me into life in Japan. The school guided me through dedicated lectures on the following:

Finding an apartment and managing utilities
Opening a bank account
Interacting with city hall
Mailing documents through the post office

Best of all, they helped me with getting a part-time job, particularly with:

Creating a Japanese resume (履歴書, rirekisho)
Guidance on the Japanese interview process
Explaining how to get permission to do part-time work from Immigration

I’ll get more into the how and why of getting a part-time job below.

A Student visa makes you easier to hire later

Lastly, moving to Japan to attend language school granted me a Student visa. Since I was already a resident of Japan, that made it easier for employers to hire me.

As a student I could convert my status of residence fairly easily to an Engineer visa, and do it in-country, as compared to needing to be sponsored from abroad, which is a process that takes months.

In fact, when I did get a job offer in Tokyo, it took under two months to convert my Student visa into an Engineer visa. Funnily enough, it was on my graduation day that the law firm my company had hired contacted me, notifying me that the conversion had been successful.

Where did I go for language school?

My most important consideration before enrolling was where in Japan I should study. After giving it some thought, I decided to study at Kawahara E-Business College in Matsuyama in the Ehime Prefecture, which is located in the Shikoku region, roughly 660 kilometers from Tokyo.

There were two reasons why I decided to study in a medium-sized city in Ehime instead of a mega city like Tokyo or Osaka.

Cost of living is lower in smaller cities

The cost of living in Ehime is cheaper than the big cities. For reference, you can look at my school’s Application Guidebook, where they list Ehime’s transportation and housing expenses as a major selling point for studying there.

The bigger the city, the more distractions

More importantly, having already visited Japan several times as a tourist, I knew that there was no way I could focus on studying if I lived in Tokyo or Osaka, with everything going on there.

I had to remember that first and foremost that I will be moving to Japan as a student, and as such I should focus on my schooling. I needed to be in the best environment to do nothing but study, and that is why I intentionally avoided the big cities and chose Ehime.

I also figured that if I could live in Ehime, I could live anywhere in Japan.

How long does language school take?

With my choice of school locked in, my next step was deciding which course to take. The school offered several choices between one to two years in length.

Taking into consideration my N4 level and my October start date, I decided to take the 18-month course, which is designed to get any student to N2. I felt this would give me enough time to get to that level. This would also mean graduating in March, shortly before the April hiring season in Japan.

What are the steps to enroll?

With both where and how long I would be in language school settled, I contacted the school directly and went through the process of enrollment.

Pass the interview. This was done via Skype and took around an hour. The questions revolved around why I wanted to study in Japan. Since I had already passed N4, they wanted to test my ability, which they did by showing me flashcards then asking “What is that [thing/action]?” If anything, the school is looking to confirm your genuine desire to learn Japanese.
Submit the required documents. You can find a list in the school’s Application Guidebook.
Pay the tuition fee. This was done by wire transfer. The bank details were provided by the school, and it went through without any issues.
Get my visa. This involved first obtaining the Certificate of Eligibility, then applying for the Student visa in my home country, which took around 6 months.

With bags packed and Student visa in hand, my goal was clear. I had 18 months to get my Japanese to at least N2 level, then find a tech job before I graduated!

Where can you stay?

In my case the school’s dormitory was already fully occupied, so they offered to find me an apartment that was close to the school. The apartment I rented required a guarantor, which the school offered to be.

They also helped me set up the utilities (electricity, internet, heating, etc.). For this they reserved the utilities on my behalf. When I arrived I set up the payments, first with my credit card, and then eventually via bank transfer when I had my own bank account.

What did I do in language school?

My classes in language school lasted three hours every weekday. They were primarily divided into two phases.

The JLPT prep period

This happened at the start of every semester (April/October), in preparation for one of the two JLPT exam months (July/December).

During these classes, textbooks were primarily JLPT-aligned, such as “Try!” for grammar and はじめての日本語能力試験N3単語 (Hajimete no nihongo nouryoku shiken N3 tango) for vocabulary.

Teachers focused each week on a different portion of the JLPT.

Kanji
Vocabulary
Grammar
Reading
Listening

Mock exams were held one month before the JLPT, followed by a debrief session on how to answer the test.

The post-JLPT period

After the JLPT test, we would have other language-related and general school events (since we were all just waiting for the exam results anyway).

These included:

Speech contests
Essay writing
Oral presentations, both in class and outside school (during our final semester we had to present something about our home country to a class of Japanese college students)
Annual school fair
Annual sports festival
Field trips such as to Matsuyama Castle

How much does language school cost?

For those considering language school as your entry point to Japan, here is a table of how much I spent, on average, while studying in Ehime.

Expense	Amount
Tuition fee for the 18 month course	1,020,000 yen total
1DK Apartment	30,000 yen/month
Electricity	3,000 yen/month
Internet	2,000 yen/month
Gas	2,000 yen/month
Cellphone	4,500 yen/month

As an international student in Japan you are allowed to work part time (under 28 hours per week), and the hourly rate while I was studying was on average 1200 yen. Working around 20 hours per week should be enough to cover your daily expenses.

While having a part-time job as a language school student is completely optional, I jumped at the chance. It would give me more opportunities to use Japanese, which in turn would give me more confidence when it came time to look for jobs.

The process I had to go through was:

Pass a written test from the school to confirm my aptitude to take on part-time work. The questions were mostly about vocabulary and grammar, which I was already learning in class, so it wasn’t that difficult.
File for permission to engage in part-time work at the Immigration office. The school gave me guidance on how to fill in the application form, and then I had to go to the Immigration office myself to file.
Create a Japanese resume to show my prospective employer.
Schedule an interview with a potential employer, then decide on my start date.
Submit a monthly timesheet to the school confirming my work hours, which needed to be signed by my employer as well.

I got a job at a convenience store during my time at school, which I think is the best kind of part-time job you can get if you want to maximize your speaking practice. At a restaurant, for example, you only have to remember the menu, whereas at a convenience store you can get asked all sorts of questions which will stretch your vocabulary to its limits if you’re not prepared, such as being asked, “Where is the nearest post office?”

More than anything, having a part-time job helped show me what it’s like working in a fully Japanese environment, talking directly with bosses, colleagues, and customers.

When I started my convenience store job, I was put on the afternoon shift (5 p.m.–10 p.m.), which was the busiest time for the store every day. I worked with my shift leads, who showed me, not just how to handle the cash register, but also how to prepare the fried foods, physically stock the shelves, and properly dispose of food approaching its expiration date.

The store owner and manager liked the work I did and trusted me to the point that, when my more senior colleagues were moved to the night shift, they asked me to teach the new hires. This experience gave me hope. If I was able to make such an impact at a part-time job in Japan, how much more could I do when I got that tech job I was aiming for?

How long did it take me to get to N2?

Because I applied myself to both my part-time job and my studies, it only took me one year in language school to skip from N4 to N2. Some other students only relied on what was given, while I made sure to get as much exposure to native materials as possible.

One thing that helped accelerate my studies was reading manga. While the school textbooks provided the foundation, manga helped confirm what I learned with authentic Japanese material.

However, even though I had the JLPT N2 certificate in my hands, I knew my mission wasn’t complete. Getting the credential was only one part of the equation. Now I had to find a company who was willing to take on someone whose Japanese experience was limited to language school and a convenience store.

How did I find my tech job?

I started my job hunt around six months before graduation. The school did recommend going to job fairs, but none of them had any IT jobs, so I relied on LinkedIn. I would just submit my CV to the job posting, and hours or days later I would be contacted by a recruiter. We would talk about the position, and go from there if I could get an interview soon after.

I soon learned several things from these experiences.

Applying directly to a company never worked (for me at least)

It was really painful to fill out an application form, which takes time to do, only to get a rejection email a few days or even weeks later.

The only explanation I ever got (if I got any at all) was that I’d been rejected because I wasn’t N1-certified, even though the job posting didn’t require N1.

That is why I gave up entirely on applying to companies directly, and worked with recruiters instead.

You need to be thick-skinned

While most recruiters and interviewers I contacted were generally easy to speak to, whether in English or Japanese, there were some with whom I had less-than-pleasant experiences. A few actually yelled at me when I gave them an answer they weren’t looking for, or when I asked for clarification.

I had to remind myself that these people are the exception and not the rule, and that I just had to keep moving forward.

Be prepared to fail

It took me a lot of time to get used to interviews, whether they were conducted entirely in Japanese or had both English and Japanese components.

I can’t begin to count how many interviews I failed because I was told that my Japanese wasn’t good enough. However, each failure gave me a chance to improve, so I just endured the heartbreak and resolved to do better next time.

The most painful experience during my job hunt was when, after passing the first two interviews entirely in Japanese, I was invited to the final interview with the company president himself, which required me to travel to their main office in Tokyo. Despite my best efforts, I failed the final interview, and the feedback was that my Japanese wasn’t good enough for the president. This made me doubt whether I could get a job at all.

However, after talking to my homeroom teacher about it, the conclusion I reached was that if I was able to get to the final interview stage with one company, I should be able to get a job offer from another. Funnily enough, it was the job I interviewed for immediately after this failure that finally gave me that offer.

Should you go to language school?

As with any major life decision, moving to Japan to study requires commitment. With proper planning and effort, those who see it through until the end will be rewarded.

Going to language school is without a doubt one of the best decisions I have ever made. Not only did it give me the tools to land a tech job in Japan, but also taught me enough about the Japanese language, culture, and way of doing things to help me lead a fulfilling life here for many years to come.

TokyoDev

Should Software Developers Take the JLPT?

What is the JLPT?

The alternatives

The benefits of passing the JLPT

The concrete benefits

The uncertain benefits

The intangible benefits

So should you take the JLPT?

What Inclusive Education Really Looks Like in Japan

What “inclusive education” means in Japan

What support actually looks like

A classroom built around the group

Formal support inside mainstream schools

Accommodations

Support room sessions

Special support class

Special needs schools

The central role of the homeroom teacher

Navigating support as a parent in Japan

Understanding placement pathways

Recognising when a school is raising concerns

The strengths of the Japanese system

Expansion of mainstream support

Improving accessibility

Growing recognition of neurodiversity

Improving coordinated support systems

Shifting educational attitudes

Where the system struggles

Chronic masking and emotional exhaustion

The limits of social inclusion

The challenge of parent advocacy

Conclusion

Buying and renovating a 40-year-old Japanese house

Finding my house

What were my primary criteria?

How did I start searching?

Initial hopes

An unforeseen hurdle

An abandoned home in the countryside

Initial pros and cons

Finally getting a home loan

Initial renovations with bridge financing

More necessary renovations out of pocket

Finding people to do the work

Did I buy a lemon?

Sinking floors

Poor vinyl application on window sills

No hot showers!

Air conditioner problems

Roof and siding

Small personalizations

The next step: Major interior renovations

Bringing light to the situation

Where is my wallpaper?

Future plans

Are used homes in Japan worth it?

Home sweet home

Scam applicants are an increasing problem in Japan

Attributes of a scammer

Resident of Japan with a US phone number

Non-existent Japanese phone number

Senior candidate with a generic portfolio website

Worked at famous companies, but most recent one is “anonymous” or “stealth”

Improbable address

What doesn’t work to catch them

IP address-based detection

Listing your job as “partially remote” or “no remote”

What can catch them

Ask for a Japanese phone number

Screen in both English and Japanese

Use an identity verification service

Perform onboarding in-person

Use an ATS with built-in fraud protection

What is TokyoDev doing about scammers?

Conclusion

Beyond Japan’s Big Cities: Life as a Software Engineer in Kumamoto

Why I chose life outside the big city

Lower rent

1K apartment comparison