There are days when living in Japan feels like a beautifully curated movie—cherry blossoms falling into your tea, efficient trains gliding into the station, the kids laughing under a shrine gate.
And then, there are days when you have to go to the Ward Office (Kuyakusho).
If you’ve been following our journey from the chaotic corporate grind of Tokyo to our slower, greener life here in Kyushu, you know we moved here for the atmosphere. But no matter where you live in Japan—whether it’s the neon lights of Shinjuku or the quieter streets of Fukuoka—bureaucracy follows you.
Recently, we had to tackle the “Big Two” of settling in: Registering our new address (Tennyu-todoke) and sorting out our “My Number” cards (Individual Number Cards).
For anyone planning a move here, this isn’t just about filling out forms. It’s about navigating a government building with a cautious seven-year-old who hates fluorescent lights and a four-year-old who treats every waiting room like a parkour gym. Here is our honest, on-the-ground experience of getting official in Fukuoka.
The Mission: Why We Had to Go
When we first arrived, the logistics felt overwhelming. We had boxes everywhere, the kids were adjusting to a new climate, and we were just trying to find the best supermarket. But in Japan, you have a 14-day clock ticking from the moment you move into your new residence to register your address.
If you miss this window, it can get complicated (and potentially involve fines), so my wife—who, unlike me, actually reads the fine print—marched us out the door on a Tuesday morning.
For a broader look at everything you need to handle during those first few weeks, definitely check out our pillar guide: Living in Fukuoka with Kids: The Complete Expat Guide to Moving & Settling In (2026). It covers the timeline in more detail, but for today, I want to zoom in specifically on the paperwork struggle.
Getting There: The First Test
We live a bit of a distance from the Ward Office, so we decided to take the bus rather than deal with the stress of finding parking in the city center.
My eldest daughter, now in elementary school, is very sensitive to atmosphere. She was already nervous. “Is it going to be like the doctors? Do I have to talk to anyone?” she kept asking, clutching her backpack straps.
Meanwhile, my youngest (the kindergartner) was vibrating with energy. She loves buses. To her, a bus ride is an adventure, regardless of the destination.
“We get to push the button! I get the window!” she yelled, sprinting ahead.
Navigating the bus system here is actually much friendlier than in other cities I’ve lived in, but it can still be tricky if you have a stroller or active kids. If you are new to the city’s transit, I highly recommend reading Fukuoka Public Transportation with Kids: A Family Guide to Subways and Buses. It saved us a few meltdowns early on by helping us figure out IC cards and stroller priority zones.
Step 1: Address Registration (Tennyu-todoke)
We walked into the Ward Office, and the vibe was… surprisingly calm.
The “Tokyo vs. Fukuoka” Contrast
I have to pause here for a second. Back when we lived in Tokyo, going to the ward office was a contact sport. I remember waiting for four hours in a room that smelled of stale coffee and stress, just to get a single stamp. The staff there were efficient, sure, but they had the eyes of people who had seen too many confused foreigners and crying babies.
Here in Fukuoka, the pace was different. The ceiling seemed higher, the air less compressed. A floor guide actually walked up to us within ten seconds. “Moving in?” she asked, smiling at my youngest, who was currently trying to inspect the ticket machine’s dispensing slot.
The Paperwork
We took a number ticket. The waiting area had a small carpeted corner with a few picture books—a lifesaver.
- The Forms: My Japanese is conversational (thanks to my Kyoto-born father), but bureaucratic Japanese is a whole different beast. My wife (who grew up in Hong Kong but has Japanese roots) handles the Kanji writing much faster than I do. If you aren’t confident in reading/writing Kanji, bring a Japanese-speaking friend. Fukuoka is international-friendly, and they often have English cheat sheets, but the actual forms usually need to be filled out in Japanese characters.
- The Wait: We waited about 20 minutes. My eldest sat quietly, reading a book she brought (always bring your own entertainment!). My youngest lasted about four minutes before she started asking why the man in the tie looked sad.
When our number was called, the process was smooth. We handed over our:
- Move-out certificate (Tenshutsu-shomeisho) from our previous city.
- Residence Cards (Zairyu Card) for me and the kids (my wife has citizenship).
- Passports (just in case).
- My Number Notification Cards (the paper ones).
The staff member was incredibly patient, explaining how the National Health Insurance and child allowance (Jido Teate) procedures would link to this registration.
Step 2: The My Number Card Saga
Once the address was registered, the backs of our Residence Cards were stamped with the new Fukuoka address. Official! But now came the second half of the battle: Applying for the actual plastic My Number Cards.
You might ask, “Do I really need the plastic card?” For a long time, I resisted. But in Japan now, this card is becoming essential. You can use it to print official documents at convenience stores (huge time saver), use it as health insurance in some places, and it’s required for certain online banking setups.
The Photo Struggle
To apply, you need a photo. We decided to use the ID photo booth (Purikura style but boring) located in the lobby of the Ward Office.
The Eldest: She froze. The instructions were barking at her to “Align eyes with the green line.” She got flustered. “I can’t see the line, Papa!” We had to take three tries. The result? She looks like a deer caught in headlights, but it passed the system check.
The Youngest: The opposite problem. The stool was too low, so I had to crouch inside the booth and hold her up (invisible lifting). “Cheese!” she screamed. “No cheese,” I grunted, straining my back. “Straight face. Close your mouth.” She stuck her tongue out. Retake. She looked away at a fly. Retake. Finally, we got a shot where she looks slightly surprised but focused.
Submission
We took the photos and the application forms to the specific “My Number” counter. Unlike the address change, this queue was longer. We spent about 40 minutes here.
Parenting Survival Tip: This was the breaking point. The snacks ran out. My eldest was overstimulated by the chiming of the counter numbers. My youngest was trying to peel the “Social Distance” stickers off the floor. If you are doing this, break it up. Register the address one day, come back for the cards another day if you can. We tried to power through, and we paid for it with cranky kids.
H2: Practical Tips for Parents
After surviving the morning, here are my takeaways for other families:
- Go Mid-Week: We went on a Tuesday. Avoid Mondays and Fridays, and definitely avoid the days immediately following a national holiday.
- The “Kids Corner” is a Decoy: While they have books, they rarely have toys (for hygiene reasons). Bring a tablet, coloring books, or a new small toy they haven’t seen before.
- The Temperature: Government buildings are often set to “energy saving” modes. In summer, it can be a bit warm; in winter, a bit chilly. Dress in layers.
- Documentation Check: Double-check you have your Residence Cards and Passports. If you forget one, there is no mercy. You will have to go home.
- Convenience Store Printing: Once you get the card (it takes about a month to arrive by mail after application), enable the digital certificate password. This allows you to print residence certificates (Juminhyo) at 7-11 or Lawson later, meaning you never have to come back to this building for simple papers!
The Reward: Getting Out
By 1:00 PM, we were done. We walked out of the building, blinking in the sunlight. We were officially Fukuoka residents. The address was on our cards. The application for the My Number cards was in the system.
“I’m hungry,” the youngest announced, breaking the silence.
“I want to go home,” the eldest whispered.
We compromised. We needed food, but we needed it to be easy. We headed straight for a place where the kids could be entertained and fed simultaneously. If you’re in this situation, I recommend looking at our list of Family-Friendly Conveyor Belt Sushi in Fukuoka: Fresh, Affordable, and Easy with Kids. The ability to order via touch screen without talking to anyone was exactly what my introvert daughter needed, and the moving plates kept my youngest mesmerized.
Why It’s Worth It
Paperwork is never the highlight of moving to Japan. It’s tedious, exact, and tiring. But holding those updated cards felt like the final anchor dropping. We aren’t just visitors or tourists passing through anymore. We live here.
Later that afternoon, we took a walk near our new home. We aren’t fully unpacked, and we still have to figure out the garbage sorting schedule (which is a whole other article), but for now, we are legal.
If you are planning your move and feeling overwhelmed by the logistics, take a breath. It gets done. And once it’s done, you have the whole island of Kyushu to explore. To get you excited about what comes after the paperwork, take a look at Fukuoka with Kids: The Ultimate Travel Guide (Food, Transport, Tips). It’s a good reminder of why we did all this in the first place.
And for those days when you just need to let the kids run free after being stuck in a government office, check out our guide to the Best Parks in Fukuoka for Kids: Ohori, Playgrounds & Picnic Spots. Trust me, you’ll earn that park time.
Welcome to Fukuoka. The paperwork is the hardest part—it gets better from here.