Fukagawa-shi

In the most recent census the population stood at about twenty thousand (20,039 in 2020). From 27,579 in 2000, through 25,838 in 2005, 23,709 in 2010, and 21,909 in 2015, it fell to 20,039 in 2020 — more than seven thousand people lost in two decades.

Look inside the figures and the shape of the rice country of northern Sorachi, opened by noble estates and tondenhei colonist-soldiers, emerges. The share of residents aged 65 and over rose from 26.0% in 2000 to 42.6% in 2020, climbing roughly seventeen points in two decades to pass four in ten. The share of child-rearing households was 13.5% in 2020. The employment rate was 50.8% in 2020. Childcare waitlists were zero in both 2024 and 2025. The Fiscal Capacity Index was 0.26 in FY2023, a level at which its own tax revenue covers only a little more than a quarter of expenditure. A rice-country city opened by noble estates and turned into a railway junction shows, in its numbers, a town raising its age while shedding population. Why it takes this shape cannot be read without tracing the heritage of the estates and the railway.

The frame of this town rests on a starting point as rice country opened by the estates of titled noblemen and by tondenhei colonist-soldiers, a junction station where two railways met, and a role as the center of northern Sorachi. The first layer is the estate. In the mid-Meiji era, a village was placed in this land of northern Sorachi, and reclamation advanced around the distant estates of three titled noble families and the settlement of tondenhei — colonist-soldiers who were at once soldiers and farmers. In time an irrigation canal drawing water from the Ishikari River was run through, and the wet wilderness spread into paddy fields. Rice country opened by the estates of titled noblemen and by tondenhei — that is the old foundation of this town. This land of northern Sorachi became a center of rice cultivation and ranked among the country's leading producers of buckwheat as well.

Onto that rice country, a railway heritage is layered. At the end of the Meiji era, a railway running from a coastal town toward Asahikawa passed through this town, and a station opened. From there, another railway branching off toward a northwestern coastal town meant this town's station became a junction where two lines met. Freight cars laden with coal and herring crossed at this junction station, and it bustled. At the bustling station, it is said, a sweet was even born named for the shape of fish scales stuck to the cars. Being at once a center of farming and a knot where railways met gave this town its depth as the center of northern Sorachi. The rice country of noble estates and tondenhei, the railway junction, and the center of northern Sorachi: upon paddies opened by force dispatched from outside, a knot where two rail lines met was layered — this double character pushed Fukagawa up into the center of northern Sorachi. Today's numbers sit atop the retreat of each of those two heritages.

What marks Fukagawa-shi is that, carrying a heritage of noble estates and a railway junction, it has shed more than seven thousand people in two decades. From 27,579 in 2000 to 20,039 in 2020, the decline is close to thirty percent. The rice country opened by the estates of titled noblemen and by tondenhei still supports the paddies of northern Sorachi, but the character of an inland place chiefly given to farming makes it hard to create the in-town jobs that keep younger generations. The junction station that once bustled with coal and herring freight has also lost its former bustle amid the age of coal and the shrinking of the rails. The character of a farming land and the retreat of the railway's bustle — these two currents can be read as having driven the population decline. That the share of residents aged 65 and over passed four in ten at 42.6% in 2020 is one sign of this.

At the same time, childcare waitlists were zero in both 2024 and 2025, and the share of child-rearing households was 13.5% in 2020. A Fiscal Capacity Index of 0.26 is a level at which its own tax revenue covers only a little more than a quarter of expenditure, showing the depth of reliance on the local allocation tax. Farming centered on rice and buckwheat, commerce and administration as the center of northern Sorachi, and the flow of people the junction station still holds support the town's daily life to some degree. The rice-country city of the railway junction is now raising the town's age while shedding population. The decline is close to thirty percent, aging has passed four in ten, and fiscal strength is a little more than a quarter. These are the result of two currents combined — the character of a farming land and the retreat of the railway's bustle. Picking out any one figure alone cannot trace the background of this town's decline.

In Fukagawa, two characters — farming and railway — overlap. One is the starting point: the distant estates of three titled noble families and the tondenhei opened the wet wilderness of northern Sorachi into rice country. The other is its character as a junction station where two railways heading toward the coast met, bustling with coal and herring freight. And that rice country became one of the nation's leading producers of buckwheat as well. The terrain of northern Sorachi on the middle Ishikari River — possessing both the soil to grow rice and the position from which a railway to the coast branched off — gave this town the two roles of farming center and railway knot.

In short, Fukagawa is a town where rice country opened by noble estates became a railway junction. From the rice country of the estates of titled noblemen and tondenhei, to the railway junction, to the center of northern Sorachi, to a population decline of twenty or thirty percent — every one of these is rooted in the geography of "the middle Ishikari River in northern Sorachi." The rice-growing soil made this land rice country, and the position of a railway branching toward the coast made a bustling knot. Yet even that rice country, which looks so rooted in the soil, traces back to the estates of three titled noble families and the tondenhei — something created from a marsh by outside hands. What looks native has its root sent forth from outside — Fukagawa's double character begins from this paradox.