Every year, more than 80,000 people in Japan quietly disappear from society, choosing to live in the shadows, far removed from their past lives. Known as “johatsu” a term that translates to “evaporated people” these individuals walk away from families, jobs, debts, and expectations, slipping through the cracks of one of the world’s most orderly societies.
Hideki Nishida, now 57, is one of them. Recalling his second “disappearance” eight years ago, he said: “No job, no money, buried in debt… what else could I do? My only escape was to find a gap and vanish into it.”
In his youth, Nishida left Kansai for Tokyo to break into the adult film industry. But reality hit hard. For a time, he scraped by on meager wages just 5,000 yen a day (about $32). His fortunes shifted in the 1990s during the AV boom, earning up to 600,000 yen ($3,840) a month. “Not bad for a guy with no real talent,” he reflected.
But his success was short-lived. A decade ago, it all came crashing down. In 2018, he vanished again. “I inherited this from my mother,” he said, referencing her own disappearance after a business failure. Today, he freelances for a digital content firm and lives temporarily in their office.
Like Nishida, tens of thousands each year choose to leave everything behind. Their reasons vary divorce, debt, academic failure, job loss but the root often lies in Japan’s unforgiving societal expectations. Failure in any form is often considered shameful, and for many, disappearing seems like the only way to reset.
Shogo Nomura, 42, now lives under a friend’s identity. Once a top student at a prestigious Tokyo school, the pressure crushed him. He dropped out, spiraled into drug abuse, and was eventually dragged to the police station by his own father. That humiliation became the turning point he vanished.
Nomura drifted through Tokyo’s underbelly: working for a phone scam syndicate, dealing drugs, and assuming a false name to obtain a license, buy insurance, and even marry. “The only joy I had during those years,” he confessed, “was secretly seeing my child.”
But not all “johatsu” stories end in despair. Yoshihiko Sakai, 53, vanished for the first time at 17 while in Paris. Lost in a foreign city, he survived thanks to newfound friends, learned pickpocketing, and was eventually deported to Japan. Back home, he continued to roam working as a fisherman, photographer, and eventually opening his own photo studio in Tokyo.
These hidden lives offer a sobering glimpse into the quiet rebellion against societal norms, where “vanishing” becomes a survival strategy in a society where conformity is king. For some, it leads to ruin; for others, it becomes a path to rediscovery and unconventional freedom.
Sources: News AU