Despite that first small travel sequence, I still had not completely decided what direction Fuka should take.
At the beginning, I experimented with ideas connected to contemporary Japan — moments, events, and atmospheres that could immediately feel linked to the present day.
One of the first inspirations came from topics such as the 2026 Winter Olympics (Here is an example → [view post]). I liked the idea of placing Fuka inside a recognizable modern context, almost as if she were quietly observing the changing mood of Japan through her camera and daily life.
Originally posted on Instagram → [view post]
For a while, I imagined the project moving in that direction:
a blend of urban exploration, current events, and fragments of contemporary Japanese culture.
Here is an example → [view post] and another one → [view post]
But something still felt incomplete.
The images were visually interesting, yet Fuka herself had not fully emerged as a person.
For that reason, I started thinking more carefully about who Fuka actually was.
I wanted her to carry something personal and emotionally real from the very beginning. That is why I decided she would come from Osaka — the same city as the woman I love. It felt natural in a way I cannot completely explain. (Here is an example → [view post]). Little by little, Fuka stopped feeling like a simple fictional character and started becoming connected to memories, emotions, and fragments of real life.
Originally posted on Instagram → [view post]
At the same time, I wanted her to have a profession capable of bringing her close to mystery and forgotten stories. That was how the idea of Fuka working with ancient archives and historical documents was born. An archivist moving through old papers, hidden records, abandoned photographs, and incomplete stories felt perfect for her atmosphere. Not a detective in the traditional sense, but someone quietly standing near mysteries without fully realizing it yet. (Here is an example → [view post])
In this way I was able to set up a sort of daily life for Fuka. (Here is an example → [view post])
In the end, however, I did not want Fuka to be alone. So I introduced the first supporting character: Kyoka, her longtime friend, also originally from Osaka.
Originally posted on Instagram → [view post]
From the beginning, I imagined Kyoka as a recurring presence during Fuka’s quieter moments — the person accompanying her during walks through the city, small trips, cafés, and ordinary afternoons. While Fuka often observes the world with curiosity and silence, Kyoka was created to bring balance: more instinctive, more intuitive, and naturally drawn toward the hidden side of things.
Their relationship was never meant to feel dramatic. What I wanted instead was the feeling of two people who have known each other for years, capable of understanding each other even during moments of silence. And slowly, through these small interactions, the world around Fuka started feeling alive. (Here is an example → [view post]).
