This essay recounts how I acted to save a close friend’s family in Rome by navigating financial regulations and institutions.
It reveals a life guided not by money, but by friendship, culture, and a deeper sense of purpose.

2016-08-12
At that time, our company could obtain financing from the bank for that amount without any problem, so I contacted the bank representative and arranged for an urgent transfer from the Bank of Japan’s Osaka Branch to Rome.
I was told that the transfer was being held at the Bank of Japan’s counter because remittances exceeding twenty million yen required approval from the Minister of Finance, so I immediately headed to the Osaka Branch.
This was because if the transfer could not be made, the family of four of my close friend living in Rome would be left destitute.
As I spoke, saying things like “Isn’t there some way to make this possible for the sake of cultural exchange between Japan and Italy,” a woman sitting behind the counter, who clearly looked like a graduate of the University of Tokyo, approached us, perhaps because she was originally someone at the same level as ourselves.
“There is only one way. Would you be willing to establish a branch in Rome?”
I explained that the origin of this idea was a conversation I had had with him when I asked how much a magnificent mansion located directly in front of Hotel Eden would cost in Italy and was astonished to learn that it was far cheaper than prices in Osaka or Tokyo at the time.
“If such a property were to come up, would you buy it?” “Of course, we would purchase it as the Rome branch.” “I went to Rome because a property had appeared, but the terrain was unsuitable. After repeating such things, the property in question finally appeared. His entire family liked it, so they signed the contract. That is the background, and therefore we will establish our company’s branch there.”
As a result, his family of four did not end up on the streets.
The “lost twenty years of Japan” brought about by total volume regulations hit the real estate industry particularly hard,
and until five or six years later, when our company’s financial condition also began to deteriorate rapidly, I never demanded a single yen of interest or repayment from him.
Was it because he was a classmate and a close friend?
Of course, that was the greatest factor, but as readers know, I have never lived my life for the sake of money.
I was originally someone who was said to be destined to carry the banner of Kyoto University, and among my classmates, I was regarded as someone who would one day leave a significant mark on Japan’s literary world.
To be continued.