Over the course of a single day and night in Tokyo, HISASHIBURI follows Go, a salaryman drifting through life on autopilot. Trains, crowds, offices, and neon streets blur into a cycle of repetition that has quietly erased his sense of purpose.
Seeking relief in solitary rituals and fleeting distractions, Go sinks further into isolation.
What happens next does not resolve his life. It interrupts his silence.
Go is not in crisis because of a single event — but because nothing has happened for too long.
I was drawn to telling a story where the emotional turning point is small and almost invisible. In life, recognition often arrives not through dramatic change, but through brief encounters that remind us of who we once were.
HISASHIBURI explores the quiet erosion of identity that can occur within modern systems built on routine, efficiency, and endurance.
Tokyo is presented not as spectacle, but as lived space — beautiful, overwhelming, and indifferent. Silence and restraint are intentional, reflecting both cultural realities and the internal language of a character who can no longer articulate his own needs.