“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.
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.”
