Five people, five very different paths - and a government programme redefining what work in rural Japan can look like. For many international workers, changing careers in Japan can feel daunting. The Regional Revitalization Corps offers another way forward: one where individuals can shape roles around their own skills and ambitions, transforming not only their careers, but the communities they join.

By Kathryn N., Regional Revitalization Corps member based in Hasami Town, Nagasaki

Like many educators in Japan, my first step into working life here came through the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Programme. From visa support before arrival to assistance navigating housing, utilities, and the practical realities of daily life, government-assisted initiatives like JET provide a structured entry point into living and working abroad. The built-in support network of supervisors, advisors, and fellow participants offers a sense of stability that helps make the initial transition feel manageable.

But for anyone hoping to pursue alternative work in Japan after JET (or get their foot in the door another way), stepping away from that support can make even those who have successfully lived and worked here overwhelmed. It’s one thing to apply for a job in English and work in a familiar environment like a classroom; another entirely to navigate Japan’s highly structured job-hunting culture independently. From preparing rirekisho and business cards to changing visa status, and securing housing without institutional backing, the administrative challenges can quickly become a headache.

Beyond well-known programmes like JET, other government-supported pathways exist - though they largely remain under the radar to prospective international workers due to limited English-language information. Among these lesser-known pathways is the Regional Revitalization Corps (Chiiki Okoshi Kyōryokutai; participants are also referred to as “Local Vitalization Cooperators”). Established to address population decline and labour shortages outside of metropolitan hubs like Tokyo and Osaka, the programme connects participants with job opportunities for one to three years, enabling them to contribute to a variety of projects that bring real value to the regions, while at the same time providing the opportunity to take on new challenges and develop new skills. The result is a programme where structure and autonomy coexist - meaning that even two people with the same job description on paper could have wildly different work days depending on their personality, their placement, and the needs of their community. 

Like JET, participants are employed by local governments (municipal or prefectural) and are supported through national and prefectural networks, including in-person professional development and networking opportunities multiple times a year. Where the two programmes differ, however, is in the degree of flexibility in working conditions. Unlike JET, Corps members can propose their own project - often called a “free mission” - directly to a town or prefecture, as well as apply for clearly defined roles in fields like agriculture, tourism, or accommodation management (many of which still allow space for personal initiative as roles develop over time).

As of 2024, there were almost 8,000 active participants working across 1,176 municipalities from Okinawa to Hokkaido. While up until now participants have mostly been Japanese citizens, recent policy changes have made the programme more accessible to foreigners, including former JET participants. As of 2025, JET Programme alumni are exempt from certain regional relocation requirements, meaning they may continue working in the same community where they completed their placement or transition to a new area altogether. With government targets aiming to reach 10,000 active members nationwide in 2026, the Regional Revitalization Corps is becoming an increasingly viable pathway for those seeking alternative ways of living and working in regional Japan. I sat down with five current and former participants in Hasami Town to explore how differently the programme can unfold in practice.

From Visitor to Resident — Building Long-Term Impact with Travel Writer Fukuda Natsumi

Coming up with ideas isn’t the hard part - it’s creating something that lasts for the next ten years.

Fukuda Natsumi displays porcelain omikuji and omamori she designed in collaboration with local manufacturers in Hasami.

Fukuda Natsumi joined the Regional Revitalization Corps in Hasami in 2014 after working as a travel writer in Fukuoka. Assigned to a “free mission,” she was given broad flexibility to define - and later redefine - her role. Today, she balances freelance editing with managing the Hasami Akikōbō Bank, a registry of abandoned workshops that she founded during her tenure, and the management of her website iktsuarpok, which hosts a digital directory of houses and workshops as well as interviews of immigrants who have successfully relocated to Hasami.

The iktsuarpok website, founded by Fukuda, lists available houses and workshops in Hasami and features interviews with relocated residents.

Although she initially worked in tourism, an invitation from a colleague to help out at a relocation fair in Tokyo proved eye-opening. Surrounded by popular booths promoting seaside lifestyles, Hasami - Nagasaki’s only landlocked town - struggled to attract attention. Many visitors had never heard of it.

Determined to change this, Fukuda-san returned home and set to work reframing Hasami’s appeal around what had drawn her there in the first place: its culture of making things. Rather than promoting akiya (lit: “empty house") alone, she proposed connecting creatives with unused workshops and factory spaces - buildings that had once been central to Hasami’s pottery industry but had gradually fallen into disuse. With support from the town hall, the empty workshop bank was the first space to be renovated and repurposed in 2017.

Once a pottery workshop, the previously abandoned building has been transformed into an airy office and event space.

Alongside this work, she also developed souvenirs for the town, including porcelain magnets and omamori. With no background in pottery herself, she collaborated with local manufacturers to make souvenirs that were completely original, distinctly local, and therefore appealed to both visitors and residents alike. Production continues independently today, though she still hand-paints the magnets herself. “It’s satisfying,” she says, “to see one on a friend’s fridge, or an amulet on a student’s backpack.”

Fukuda hand-paints porcelain magnets she designed during her tenure in the Regional Revitalization Corps. Subtle variations in smiles and apron details highlight the human touch.

Treat the three years as a trial. It’s not just about seeing if the town fits you - it’s a chance to try projects you might never otherwise attempt.

Returning Home — Reviving a Kominka with Architect Kawachi Takuma

When I first saw the house, I didn’t have a detailed plan. I just knew I wanted to bring it back to life.

Takuma Kawachi stands before Oniwa, the home and workspace he renovated himself.

Perched on a hill overlooking a patchwork of rice fields, an abandoned kominka (lit: “old house”, typically built before the war) became both a challenge and an opportunity for Kawachi Takuma, an architect returning from Tokyo to reconnect with his family’s roots - his grandmother grew up in Hasami, while his father is from nearby Sasebo. Joining the Regional Revitalization Corps in 2018, he made the journey west with his wife and young children, embracing a flexible mission that allowed him to draw on his degree and eventually renovate what would become his family’s new home by hand.

Kitchen interior before and after restoration. Original windows were preserved, while vintage fixtures were selected to complement the home.

Initially tasked with documenting vacant properties for the town, Kawachi photographed abandoned houses and assessed whether they could be lived in again. During this work, he was approached by the owner of a 70-year-old kominka in the Onigi area seeking advice on how the house might be used. In Japan, where older houses are often demolished rather than preserved, he recognised both its fragility and potential. After discussions with the town hall, Kawachi and his wife were granted permission to renovate the property on the condition it would eventually be used to benefit the community.

Living room before and after restoration. Additional seating and storage were added while traditional decorative panels were preserved.

Over the next two years, his first-ever large-scale DIY project gradually evolved into something more personal.  Although there were discussions about the town taking the lead in operating the property after its renovation, Kawachi and his family had by then fallen deeply in love with the kominka. Choosing to continue its story himself, he established his own business and transformed it into what would eventually become both his home and his livelihood - the guesthouse Oniwa.

A deck added to the living room exterior extends the space outward and frames views of surrounding rice fields.

Today, Oniwa attracts visitors from across Japan and overseas - fulfilling the original aim that the project contribute meaningfully to the wider community. Since opening, the Kawachi family have welcomed over 1,500 guests, and are often fully booked - especially during spring. Oniwa hosts only one group at a time, offering an intimate glimpse into everyday life in rural Japan.

Goats kept at Oniwa help maintain the garden surrounding the residence.

Meals are central to the experience - dinner and breakfast are prepared by Kawachi and his wife, and include seafood purchased fresh from the morning market, seasonal homegrown vegetables and wild mountain plants. Breakfast is eaten around a sunken hearth, or irori, and rice is made fresh in a restored kamado lit with firewood. Kawachi’s vision becomes clear when you sit down to eat a simple, satisfying home-cooked meal. Oniwa was never just about restoring a building, but about rebuilding connection - to place, to community, and to a slower way of living.

A guest prepares rice for breakfast using a restored traditional kamado wood-fired stove.

The first year is for getting used to the place and people. But three years is shorter than you think - start moving early.

From Solo to Supported — Creating Community at Kiyoto Terrace with Guesthouse Manager Koga Yuu

There’s quite a lot I’ve been doing on my own, but I’ve learned I don’t have to do everything by myself.

Guesthouse manager Koga Yuu stands in front of Kiyoto Terrace in Onigi, a district in Hasami known for its terraced rice fields.

Before moving to Hasami, Koga had already visited as a fan of Hasami porcelain. She embraced the opportunity to return more permanently in 2024 when she took on management of Kiyoto Terrace - a renovated kominka surrounded by tea fields and terraced rice paddies, operated as a private-use stay for one group at a time - where she could apply her hospitality experience in a more personal way.

Running the space largely on her own, her days balance visible and invisible work: managing bookings, preparing rooms, welcoming guests, and maintaining the constant cycle of laundry, cleaning, and upkeep. The physical demands quickly add up, even in the rhythm of everyday tasks.

Koga maintains the garden, one of many responsibilities in managing Kiyoto Terrace.

Much of Kiyoto Terrace reflects her attention to detail. The kitchen drawers are stacked with local tableware she selected piece by piece, alongside small touches that encourage guests to slow down and settle in - locally produced tea, a donabe for shared meals, and a bookshelf stocked with every volume of the manga Ao no Hana, Utsuwa no Mori (The Blue Flowers and the Ceramic Forest) - a popular romance series set in Hasami Town.

Hasami tableware selected for guest use at Kiyoto Terrace.

When bookings are quiet, she turns her attention outdoors, maintaining the garden and gradually shaping spaces for future gatherings, including a barbecue area and a Japanese-style rock garden. Though initially unsure of her DIY abilities, she gained confidence through online tutorials and advice from neighbours - beginning with the wooden sign that now greets guests at the turnoff to the driveway.

A handmade sign and Japanese-style rock garden reflect the handcrafted aesthetic of Kiyoto Terrace.

The space continues to evolve thanks to her efforts and her small network of helpers, including two energetic older neighbours who regularly assist with gardening - embodying the spirit of mochitsu motaretsu, a give-and-take.

Neighbors and fellow Regional Revitalization Corps members help maintain the large garden at Kiyoto Terrace.

It takes time, but once you start talking to people and sharing what you want to create, the right supporters begin to appear.

Following the Trail — Becoming a Young Hunter in an Ageing Field with Fujita Mizuki

In Hasami, wild boar are the main source of crop damage. Hunting here focuses on reducing their population.

Fujita Mizuki explores the forests surrounding Hasami with his dog, Toki.

Originally from Kyoto, the 25-year-old is the youngest member of Hasami’s roughly 30-person hunting community. He joined the Regional Revitalization Corps with a clear goal: develop practical hunting skills while contributing to wildlife management. Hasami’s large wild boar population offered the hands-on training environment he was looking for.

Hunting here demands patience, technical knowledge, and strict adherence to regulations. Japan’s hunting and firearm licensing system is highly controlled, requiring detailed record-keeping and secure storage, so many hunters use traps and knives instead. Encounters with boar are not without risk. Powerful and unpredictable, they can charge without warning. “People think bears are scary,” he laughs, “but boars can be just as dangerous.”

Fujita receives a base salary through the programme, alongside compensation for captured animals - 8,000 yen for smaller boars and 12,000 yen for larger ones - verified through careful documentation. On a typical day in the mountains, he may encounter several animals, though successfully capturing even one requires persistence and caution.

Fujita demonstrates trapping and butchering techniques at a wild boar processing workshop.

Beyond population management, education is central to his work. From a shared facility in town, he processes and vacuum-seals wild game for sale, and hosts workshops where visitors learn about trapping, butchering, and preparing dishes such as wild game curry and yakiniku. Shared meals become opportunities for conversation, helping connect participants with rural realities often invisible from outside.

Wild boar meat prepared during the workshop is served as curry with local rice and vegetables.

For Fujita, success is not just about numbers but about achieving sumiwake - creating a safer distance between human life and wildlife habitats. With most licensed hunters in Japan now over sixty, younger hunters like him represent an important new generation.

Though he plans to move north after his contract to pursue bear hunting, he intends to use his time in Hasami to learn as much as possible while contributing to the community. “You can’t do this work alone,” he tells me. “Even when hunters and farmers work individually, what each person does ends up supporting everyone else.”

Shaping Her Own Role — Teaching as Practice with Artist Takagi Saori

The mission title hasn’t changed, but the work has. Managing the Denshuukan gives me the freedom to decide what to do next.

Takagi Saori stands outside the Denshukan holding a handmade sign.

At the Denshuukan, a local place of learning centred around workshops, participants lean over their work in quiet concentration while Takagi moves gently between tables, offering guidance. A fine arts graduate specialising in woodblock printmaking, she joined the Regional Revitalization Corps seeking both a career shift and a chance to expand her artistic practice. 

Before coming to Hasami, Takagi taught art to kindergarten and elementary school students in the Kanto region, including classes focused on observational drawing and clay-based sculptural work. Although new to pottery when she arrived, she has drawn on her teaching background to plan and lead workshops that help visitors connect more deeply with the town’s ceramic legacy.

Works produced in Takagi’s workshops include slab-built pottery, washizome-dyed ceramics, and her original animal-shaped candle holders.

The open-ended nature of her role has allowed her to develop a wide range of programs through experimentation and feedback, including ceramic decal decorating, washizome, - transferring colour onto unfired porcelain using paper stencils and droppers -  and a hand-building workshop where participants shape and paint their own creations. From decal sheets she designed herself featuring dinosaurs, dolphins, and dogs, to the charming example works she displays as references, her approach feels playful, accessible, and inviting.

Ceramic decals designed by Takagi bridge the gap between existing techniques and contemporary design.

Behind the scenes, much of her work happens quietly. When she is not running workshops, she manages materials and inventory, cleans and prepares the space, completes customer pieces by drying, glazing, and firing, and carefully packages finished works for shipping. Beyond the Denshuukan, Takagi hosts pop-up workshop experiences at local festivals and events, and continues to practice pottery herself in her private time, exhibiting her works online and at short-term exhibitions.

Takagi presents her work at a local café exhibition.

Looking forward, Takagi is eager to run pottery experiences with students from local schools. Moments of connection - like watching children carefully choose which decal to use - remain the most rewarding.

“You have more freedom than you might expect,” she says. “But think carefully about where you want to start”

Conclusion

Instead of assigning participants a fixed role, the Regional Revitalization Corps allows them to develop work that grows from who they are - their skills, education, interests, curiosity, and enthusiasm - while responding to the needs and rhythms of the communities they join. Lasting change rarely happens through sudden transformation; instead, it emerges through collaboration, conversation, and careful listening. For some, the three years become the foundation for long-term projects and deep roots. For others, it’s a training ground - a chance to learn from established networks, trial new ideas, and prepare for their next chapter. 

Beyond Hasami, similar stories unfold across Japan: there are foreign Corps members documenting rural life through photojournalism while leading guided tours in Hokkaido, foraging for wild edibles in the forests of Nara and teaching others how to use them, and turning a passion for kendama into a small business that hosts tournaments and brings new energy to its community in Yamagata.

In rural Japan, where narratives often focus on decline or permanence, the Revitalization Corps offers a quieter alternative - not a single career path, but a framework for reimagining how work can take shape. Belonging does not have to demand forever. Contribution is not only about remaining, but about what is learned, shared, and set in motion along the way.