Earthquakes hit Japan constantly. About 1,500 a year. It’s one of the most tremor-prone places on the planet, perched on the restless Pacific Ring of Fire. So when the ground shakes in the Tokara Islands or southern Kyushu, people usually stay alert but carry on.
This summer, though, the panic has a different source: an old manga called The Future I Saw. Written in 1999 by Ryo Tatsuki, now in her seventies, it popped back into the spotlight in 2021 and has sold more than a million copies. In its pages, Tatsuki claims she predicted a megaquake above magnitude 8.0 would strike Japan on 5 July — with a tsunami “three times the size” of the one that devastated Fukushima in 2011.
She wrote, “A huge tsunami will wash over the countries in the Pacific Ocean.” Even now, she hasn’t fully retracted it. Last month, she told Sankei that the disaster “may not happen” but offered no firm reassurance.
No wonder people are uneasy.
Science vs speculation
Seismologists are frustrated. They point out — again — that predicting the exact date, location and size of an earthquake is impossible. The technology doesn’t exist.
Ayataka Ebita from the Japan Meteorological Agency explained, “With our current scientific knowledge, it’s difficult to predict the exact time, place or scale of an earthquake. We ask that people base their understanding on scientific evidence.”
His boss, director-general Ryoichi Nomura, was sharper: “It’s regrettable that people are being affected by baseless information in this age of modern science.”
Yet the rumour mill keeps turning. Two Hong Kong airlines have pulled flights to southern Japan as nervous tourists cancel their plans. Tokushima’s tourism board admitted, “We are surprised that such rumours have led to cancellations.”
Real quakes, real risk
The manga might be fantasy, but the danger beneath Japan is real enough. Just days ago, a magnitude 5.5 quake struck the Tokara Islands, its epicentre 19 kilometres below the sea. A second tremor hit days later, measuring 5.4.
Since then, more than a thousand tremors have rattled the region in just two weeks. On tiny Akuseki Island, home to only 89 people, local officials decided the safest option was to get everyone off the island. They boarded ships to Kagoshima city and won’t return until things calm down.
Japan’s official hazard maps confirm the worry. The biggest threat is a massive rupture along the Nankai Trough — a 900-kilometre trench off the Pacific coast.
Geologists Kyle Bradley and Judith A. Hubbard summed it up as “the original definition of the Big One.”
A government panel reckons there’s an 80% chance of a Nankai Trough megaquake in the next 30 years. Worst-case scenario? Nearly 300,000 dead, two million buildings gone.
How Japan stays ready
The country isn’t passive about any of this. Back in March, Japan’s Central Disaster Management Council, led by the Prime Minister, signed off on a plan to cut quake deaths by 80% and halve damage within the next decade.
They’ve laid out 200 specific actions — strengthening old buildings, building more tsunami towers, toughening schools, hospitals, roads and bridges. Schools and offices must run evacuation drills twice a year. Shelters will be bigger and stocked properly.
The Japan Meteorological Agency will keep monitoring the seabed for unusual signs. Local fire and disaster services will keep drilling. Councils will get money to make sure these plans don’t gather dust in a drawer.
Between rumour and reality
So, what does all this boil down to? A manga spooked people and caused unnecessary fear. But the constant threat below Japan is anything but fictional. As Nomura put it, people shouldn’t “take irrational actions driven by anxiety.” Yet ignoring the risk entirely would be reckless.
If Tatsuki’s prediction misses — and science says it will — it doesn’t mean the Big One isn’t coming. It just means nobody knows when. Until then, Japan keeps its shelters stocked, its drills routine, its towers tall. Because prophecies might sell books, but good planning saves lives.
This summer, though, the panic has a different source: an old manga called The Future I Saw. Written in 1999 by Ryo Tatsuki, now in her seventies, it popped back into the spotlight in 2021 and has sold more than a million copies. In its pages, Tatsuki claims she predicted a megaquake above magnitude 8.0 would strike Japan on 5 July — with a tsunami “three times the size” of the one that devastated Fukushima in 2011.
She wrote, “A huge tsunami will wash over the countries in the Pacific Ocean.” Even now, she hasn’t fully retracted it. Last month, she told Sankei that the disaster “may not happen” but offered no firm reassurance.
No wonder people are uneasy.
Science vs speculation
Seismologists are frustrated. They point out — again — that predicting the exact date, location and size of an earthquake is impossible. The technology doesn’t exist.
Ayataka Ebita from the Japan Meteorological Agency explained, “With our current scientific knowledge, it’s difficult to predict the exact time, place or scale of an earthquake. We ask that people base their understanding on scientific evidence.”
His boss, director-general Ryoichi Nomura, was sharper: “It’s regrettable that people are being affected by baseless information in this age of modern science.”
Yet the rumour mill keeps turning. Two Hong Kong airlines have pulled flights to southern Japan as nervous tourists cancel their plans. Tokushima’s tourism board admitted, “We are surprised that such rumours have led to cancellations.”
Real quakes, real risk
The manga might be fantasy, but the danger beneath Japan is real enough. Just days ago, a magnitude 5.5 quake struck the Tokara Islands, its epicentre 19 kilometres below the sea. A second tremor hit days later, measuring 5.4.
Since then, more than a thousand tremors have rattled the region in just two weeks. On tiny Akuseki Island, home to only 89 people, local officials decided the safest option was to get everyone off the island. They boarded ships to Kagoshima city and won’t return until things calm down.
Japan’s official hazard maps confirm the worry. The biggest threat is a massive rupture along the Nankai Trough — a 900-kilometre trench off the Pacific coast.
Geologists Kyle Bradley and Judith A. Hubbard summed it up as “the original definition of the Big One.”
A government panel reckons there’s an 80% chance of a Nankai Trough megaquake in the next 30 years. Worst-case scenario? Nearly 300,000 dead, two million buildings gone.
How Japan stays ready
The country isn’t passive about any of this. Back in March, Japan’s Central Disaster Management Council, led by the Prime Minister, signed off on a plan to cut quake deaths by 80% and halve damage within the next decade.
They’ve laid out 200 specific actions — strengthening old buildings, building more tsunami towers, toughening schools, hospitals, roads and bridges. Schools and offices must run evacuation drills twice a year. Shelters will be bigger and stocked properly.
The Japan Meteorological Agency will keep monitoring the seabed for unusual signs. Local fire and disaster services will keep drilling. Councils will get money to make sure these plans don’t gather dust in a drawer.
Between rumour and reality
So, what does all this boil down to? A manga spooked people and caused unnecessary fear. But the constant threat below Japan is anything but fictional. As Nomura put it, people shouldn’t “take irrational actions driven by anxiety.” Yet ignoring the risk entirely would be reckless.
If Tatsuki’s prediction misses — and science says it will — it doesn’t mean the Big One isn’t coming. It just means nobody knows when. Until then, Japan keeps its shelters stocked, its drills routine, its towers tall. Because prophecies might sell books, but good planning saves lives.
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