"They Are My Biggest Fans"
Waves crash in front of me, dark, churning waves, their whitecaps dissolving into mist as they meet the wind. The sea looks as cold as the air feels, its restless surface reflecting the deep gray of the heavy autumn sky. A sharp gust cuts through my jacket, carrying the salt-tinged scent of the ocean and the distant cry of a gull. Looking up, I see mountains rising abruptly from the water’s edge, their rugged slopes covered in a patchwork of wind-swept evergreens.
It is November, and I find myself in Takeno, a small town on Japan’s south-west coast, two and a half hours drive over the mountains from Kobe. Turning a corner, I come across a small café. Stepping inside, I am greeted by Tatsuki Nakata , surrounded by granola, stork prints, and the quiet hum of a morning routine. Two elderly women help clear dishes from my chosen table.
“They come here every day to show support. They are my biggest fans,” Tatsuki says from behind the counter.
What follows is a long conversation over coffee, tracing Tatsuki’s journey, from Takeno to France and back again. It is clear that he is a true doer, someone who has combined ability with action. Now, a few months later, I have the chance to sit down with Tatsuki once more, to go deeper and share his story with you all.
From Soccer to the French Countryside
Don't be fooled by Tatsuki's young exterior, for he has seen and done a lot already. His story begins just 30 minutes from Takeno, where we first met.
“I was born near here. My grandparents lived in the mountains where I snowboard in winter. But I grew up near Himeji Castle.”
His childhood was shaped by the 1995 Great Hanshin Earthquake. “That was a tough time for Hyogo Prefecture, but it also created a strong sense of civic pride. People came together.”
During high school, Tatsuki was singularly focused on soccer, dreaming of going pro. But his father asked him a question that changed everything:
“If we take soccer away, what’s left?”
Tatsuki had no answer. That moment forced him to reconsider his path.
With a growing desire to see the world beyond Japan, he decided to study French. “My parents had visited Versailles on their honeymoon, and I thought, maybe I should learn French and go there myself as a way to give back to them, to show my appreciation.”
He enrolled at Kyoto University of Foreign Studies, driven by his competitive spirit. “A lot of my classmates already spoke French when they started, but I couldn’t speak a word. But if there’s an obstacle, I want to overcome it.”
“A competitive spirit is part of your DNA,” I noted.
“Yes, that’s my DNA. Difficult obstacles are more fun to overcome, and that’s what took me to France.”
But the first trip wasn’t easy.
“I couldn’t even order a croissant properly. I stood in line at a bakery, panicking. And the worst part? I was holding up the line. As a Japanese person, causing inconvenience to others is especially painful. I felt so ashamed. That was the moment I felt truly homesick. But I told my mother, ‘I’m not giving up.’”
Three months later, wrapping up his first trip to France, he returned to Japan, more determined than ever to master the language. But he was also searching for something more.
“Going to France had been my first goal. So I thought, ‘OK, I’ve realized my first dream. I gave something back to my parents. But what should my next dream be?’”
At the time, Tatsuki was becoming increasingly aware of the challenges facing Japan’s countryside. His grandparents were farmers, and the issue of Japan’s shrinking population was impossible to ignore.
“I felt a desire to learn more about business and entrepreneurship, to do something for the countryside. That became my new dream.”
Discovering Bricolage and a New Purpose
Around this time, Tatsuki came across the work of anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss and his concept of bricolage.
“It changed the way I think,” he said. “Bricolage means making do with what you have, using existing resources creatively rather than relying on outside inputs.”
He saw a clear parallel between this concept and life in the countryside.
“I realized that the way people in rural areas survive is essentially bricolage. They don’t just throw things away; they repurpose, they adapt. If they need something, they look at what they already have before going out to buy something new.”
Inspired, Tatsuki decided he needed firsthand experience.
“I thought, ‘I should go somewhere where I can learn from rural life, where bricolage is a way of living.’ That’s what inspired me to return to France and learn from its countryside.”
In France, he found work at a real estate company, but political changes made it difficult for non-French citizens to stay in the industry. Forced to pivot, he took a job at Uniqlo.
“People told me, ‘You’re living your dream!’ But I felt like I was contributing to the worst parts of consumerism.”
A turning point came when he attended a university discussion on food politics.
“A German professor told me, ‘You should study agriculture. Compare Asia and Europe, see what works.’ That conversation changed everything.”
She later became his supervisor, encouraging him to pursue a master’s degree in agricultural policy at the European School of Political and Social Sciences (ESPOL).
“The students were from all over the world, Norway, Afghanistan, Thailand. Our discussions were so diverse. It was one of the best experiences of my life.”
Returning to Japan: The Challenge of Rural Revitalization
But then COVID-19 hit, forcing Tatsuki to remain in the lab instead of conducting field research. Around this time, he also realized just how much he missed Japan.
“The more I read about Japan’s rural areas, the more I wanted to return.”
One story in particular captured his attention, stork farming in Toyooka City, which includes Takeno.
“You know storks, right? The bird? Well, the stork is our symbol here in Toyooka. Storks can only live in environments free from excessive pesticides and fertilizers. So to bring them back, Toyooka City had to create a truly sustainable ecosystem where nature and farming coexist.”
Toyooka was the last place in Japan where wild storks lived before they went extinct in the country. But the city made a massive effort to restore the population.
“Mayors, teachers, and local organizations all worked together. Eventually, they successfully reintroduced storks, working alongside Russian conservation programs. Now, there are over 300 of them in Toyooka.”
Reading about this, Tatsuki was struck by how little he had known about his own country.
“I thought, ‘Wow, this is incredible.’ There were so many things about Japan I had never realized. If I hadn’t lived in France, I might never have appreciated how special this was. But being away from Japan gave me a new perspective. It made me think, ‘Maybe this is the right time to go back.’”
After completing his degree, he faced a choice: take a stable job at Panasonic working on agritech or return to the land himself.
“My grandfather, a farmer, wasn’t impressed when I told him about the Panasonic job. He said, ‘You’ve never even touched the soil. How can you work in agriculture?’ That hit me hard.”
Instead of joining a corporation, Tatsuki entered a two-year city-backed program in Toyooka, learning directly from farmers while preparing to start his own business.
“It was a trial-and-error period. I got to experiment while still having financial support. When my contract ended in 2023, I moved to Takeno and opened my own business, a café, which became my HQ, a platform for further initiatives.”
“And that’s where we first met,” I added.
The Importance of the Countryside
While Tatsuki is optimistic about the potential for rural entrepreneurship, he doesn’t shy away from discussing the challenges.
“We have a lot of subsidies in Japan, but they mostly go to big companies,” he says. “Small businesses struggle to access them. And even when we do, the process is so complicated that many people don’t even try.”
Tatsuki believes this issue stems from a fundamentally defensive mindset in Japan.
“We always focus on what happens if we fail instead of what happens if we succeed. It’s always about who will take responsibility if something goes wrong, how much it will cost if it fails. But if we never take risks, we never gain anything.”
His own journey reflects this philosophy.
“Going to France was a risk. I didn’t speak the language. But I took that risk, and it opened so many doors for me. The Japanese government needs to think more long-term, like my parents did when they invested in my education abroad. Real investment isn’t just about money, it’s about time, education, and the willingness to take risks.”
But he remains hopeful.
“We need to create an environment where entrepreneurship is encouraged, where people are taught to take risks. And we need policies that actually help small businesses, not just big corporations that already have money.”
He then turns to a more urgent challenge: the future of food production.
“Right now, the average age of Japanese farmers is 64. In 20 years, who will take over? Right now, we don’t have a food crisis, but we will face one. We are losing our primary sector producers, our farmers and fishers, who are the backbone of Japanese identity. Japanese rice, Japanese fish, sushi, these things are part of who we are. But they are disappearing.”
He pauses, then continues.
“We think of Tokyo as the center of everything. And yes, technology is being developed there. But where do our resources come from? Where does our food, our water, our traditions come from? The countryside. Tokyo is the marketplace, but without the countryside, there will be nothing left to trade.”
I nod. “We risk ending up with lots of marketplaces, but no goods to trade.”
“Exactly,” Tatsuki says. “Japan was once known for its hard technology, cars, video games, cameras. But the next generation of innovation isn’t just about making new gadgets; it’s about using technology to coexist with the countryside. Tokyo is overcrowded. If we don’t support rural industries, we’re not just losing agriculture, we’re losing our food, our traditions, our way of life.”
Humble Beginnings Toward Real Impact: Focusing on Upstream Value
From the start, Tatsuki has been focused on creating real economic impact for local farmers. But he quickly realized that simply becoming another farmer himself wouldn’t be enough.
“If I just become one more farmer, I can’t contribute much economically,” he explains. “To really support local farming, I need to be in manufacturing and processing, taking food that would otherwise be wasted and turning it into something valuable.”
One of his core initiatives involves Japanese pears, a fruit often discarded due to imperfections.
“If I take a pear, dry it using heat, and package it, suddenly I have something that can be sold at a much higher price, maybe from zero to 500 yen,” Tatsuki says. “That’s one way we can reduce food waste while also increasing value for farmers.”
I agree. “By moving your point of impact further upstream, you’re not just joining farmers, you’re creating a new way for them to leverage their skills and their produce.”
Tatsuki nods. “Exactly. Rather than just being part of the existing system, I’m finding new ways to connect these farmers with consumers who appreciate quality. Take rice, for example. If you grow rice in a high-quality environment, like the stork-friendly farms we talked about, maybe you can position it as premium rice for sake production. That completely changes its market value.”
The Future of Rural Japan and Economic Innovation
Looking ahead, Tatsuki sees AI and digital infrastructure as game-changers for countryside businesses.
“With AI, e-commerce, and remote work, there’s no reason everything has to be centered in Tokyo anymore. If we use technology well, we can create new industries in rural areas and attract young people back.”
He also believes Japan’s traditional industries hold untapped potential.
“We have incredible craftsmen, farmers, and producers, but they struggle to market themselves internationally. That’s also why I started my café, not just to sell food, but to educate people about rural Japan and create connections.”
For Tatsuki, rural revitalization isn’t just a local challenge, it’s a global opportunity.
“Japan has amazing resources, but we’re bad at marketing them. That’s where people like you, people outside Japan, can help. We need bridges to the world.”
Looking ahead, he’s eager to expand his business and share Japan’s countryside with more people.
“AI is exciting, but human-centered, culture-based businesses will be just as important in the future. That’s what I want to build.”
If you’re interested in connecting with Tatsuki, you can find him right here on LinkedIn, follow Cou Cou on Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/cote_takeno/) or visit his café in Takeno (I'll gladly go with you!).
