Tax Season, Global Chaos








A photo I took by chance, four years ago today.
The shadows of the thickets reflected in intricate patterns, dancing with the shimmering light on the water. The koi swim gracefully through it all, accepting the complexity as it is. A moment of pure, meditative calm.


It’s that time of year again: tax season. Usually, my ritual involves a solid month of procrastination, living under the constant stress of knowing I should be doing my taxes but never actually starting. However, this year is different.

By some miracle, it’s only January, and I’ve already resolved to get it done. In fact, I’ve nearly completed my return. Now, I’m the one waiting on the edge of my seat for the accounting software to release the final 2025 filing forms. The update is expected any day now, and here I am, poised and ready, practically hovering over the "refresh" button. This level of preparation is unrecognizable to my former self. I’m writing this while I wait.

As a final touch, I spent today calculating my medical expenses. Now, I consider myself a very healthy person, but even a healthy body needs maintenance—routine dental cleanings, annual check-ups, and the occasional cold medicine. Staying healthy is a project in itself. And let me tell you, the paperwork for that project is a nightmare.

The numbers on my physical receipts don’t match the data in the "Myna Portal"—the digital ID system run by Japan’s Digital Agency. The portal records insurance-covered treatments down to the single yen, but it misses out-of-pocket costs for wellness-related expenses and year-end visits. This tiny, persistent discrepancy is infuriating. I found myself hitting a wall of frustration over just a few yen.

The Japanese medical system is incredible—Unlike the U.S., where the complexity lies in choosing between hundreds of private insurance plans, Japan operates under a Universal Health Insurance system. Whether you are on National Health Insurance or Social Insurance through your employer, everyone enjoys equal access to care—typically paying only 30% of the cost at the window.

However, the "Medical Fee Point System" that powers this equality is incredibly granular. While everything is calculated in "points," honestly, I have no desire to decipher the logic behind them. What matters to most people is the actual out-of-pocket cost and the non-insurance surcharges. It’s like peering into a black box; the more you dig into the breakdown of those points and fees, the more you realize how complex and impenetrable the system really is.

But when you realize these receipts are a gold mine for tax deductions, the perspective shifts.

While wrestling with these discrepancies, an article from the New York Times about the global state of affairs in 2026 flashed through my mind.

Global intellectuals like Adam Tooze and Matias Spektor are all saying the same thing: we have entered an era where old rules and conventions no longer apply. While great powers self-destruct by clinging to old resources like oil, smart smaller nations—and individuals—survive by looking coldly at "physical realities" (like the latest tech and energy) and maintaining their agility.

Looking at it that way, the discrepancy in my medical receipts feels like a microcosm of the world.

The government-built "system" is convenient, but it fails to capture the "raw reality" of out-of-pocket costs or the lag in year-end data. Instead of blindly trusting the system, I choose to trust the "evidence on the ground"—my physical receipts—and resolve the discrepancies to find my own optimal solution.

Isn't this tedious, gritty work actually a form of "intellectual muscle training" for surviving an uncertain world?

The moment I understood the truth behind those few yen, I felt I had gained a shield in the form of a tax deduction. The app release is just around the corner. Once the update drops, I won’t hesitate to hit that "submit" button.

In this year of the Hinoe-Uma (Fire Horse), I refuse to be a servant to the system. I will take control of my own numbers and my own future. Just for the sheer, overwhelming exhilaration of it.