Aimed & Confused
A quarter-life crisis crosses a listless day trip to Minakuchi (水口町), a seemingly ordinary town in south-central Japan

Published October 15, 2025


We both didn’t know what awaited us. 

Amidst political turmoil and teenage hype, I found myself feeling at a loss. I had to choose between staying in Chicago—pursuing my dreams of being an artist and designer—or returning to Japan, knowing that I would enter the certain route of endless bureaucratic procedures and becoming a mildly happy man. Adventure or safety.

To grapple with the trajectory of my next thirty years, I needed somewhere (and someone) to offer consultation for my concerns.



 After my sophomore year of college, I flew back to Japan for a few weeks during summer vacation. My cousin called me one evening, curious if I’d be around the following weekend. I asked him if he had a map and a dart. 

With a small pin, we spread a map of the southern region of Japan where we both lived, Kansai, loosely onto the wall, the paper still afflicted with creases. I told my cousin to throw the dart, and wherever it landed, we had to go at any cost.

It landed in the middle of nowhere.

On the day we left for Minakuchi City, I brought a camera, a map, and myself. I mulled over the questions that had haunted me for the past few months, preparing them for my cousin’s thoughts.

My cousin is a mysterious person. He’s the kind of person who offers no branches for you to hold onto, and he’s difficult to read. But to discover a person is to discover parts of yourself.
A train that still used paper hole tickets; an endless array of dark green mountains; the moist smell of forest after a lukewarm rain. They all awaited us in Minakuchi City. We walked and walked, trying to understand what made this place so fascinating.
We both didn’t know what awaited us. 

Amidst political turmoil and teenage hype, I found myself feeling at a loss. I had to choose between staying in Chicago—pursuing my dreams of being an artist and designer—or returning to Japan, knowing that I would enter the certain route of endless bureaucratic procedures and becoming a mildly happy man. Adventure or safety.

To grapple with the trajectory of my next thirty years, I needed somewhere (and someone) to offer consultation for my concerns.




Towards the end of our weekend adventure, we realized that the train only came every two hours; if we missed the next train—arriving in five minutes—we wouldn’t make it back to our homes until after-hours. We ran through this foreign city’s trails and laughed as if none of the harder conversations had ever happened.

We made it onto the train, collapsing into the fluffy seats. It’s here that we both decided to give it another try.


Kokikin
(IG) @roteh_studio, @kokikin_cbw
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