If you own property in Osaka, you've probably already navigated a fair amount of unfamiliar paperwork — a purchase contract in Japanese, a registration system with its own logic, maybe a guarantor company or two along the way. What most owners haven't thought through is what happens to that property the day they're no longer around to manage it. Not because they're avoiding the topic, but because it feels distant, and because most guides to buying property in Japan simply stop once the keys change hands.
This matters more for a foreign owner than for a Japanese one, for a reason that surprises almost everyone: your Osaka property doesn't necessarily pass to your heirs the way you assume it will, even if you have a will that's perfectly valid back home. Japanese law has firm opinions about real estate located within its borders, and those opinions don't always defer to the legal system you grew up with.
Here's the fact that anchors everything else: the legal record of who owns a piece of land or a building in Osaka is the Japanese property registry (touki), maintained by the local Legal Affairs Bureau. It doesn't matter whether the registered owner is Japanese, American, French, or holds no residency status in Japan at all — the registry only recognizes what's been formally filed with it, in the correct Japanese legal procedure.
The interpretation that follows is the one that catches people off guard: having a will, a trust, or an estate plan drawn up by a lawyer in your home country does not, by itself, change what the Japanese registry shows. Your heirs may hold a perfectly valid foreign document proving they inherited your estate — and still be unable to sell, rent out, or even formally hold the Osaka property until a separate, Japan-specific registration process has taken place, using Japan-specific documentation.
We see this gap constantly at Maido Estate: an owner assumes that "my will handles everything," when in reality the will is only the first of several steps, and the step that actually transfers legal title in Japan hasn't happened yet.
This is the part that trips up even careful, well-prepared owners, because it runs against instinct. Under Japan's Act on General Rules for Application of Laws, inheritance is governed, in principle, by the deceased's nationality — not by where the property sits. So if you're French and you pass away owning an apartment in Osaka, the starting assumption is that French inheritance law applies to your estate, including the Japanese property.
Most owners hear that and relax. It sounds like their home country's familiar rules — forced heirship shares in France, community property principles in some US states, straightforward probate in the UK — will simply carry over. This is usually where the assumption breaks.
Many Western legal systems — including English, American, and (in its traditional form) French private international law — take the opposite approach for real estate: they say that immovable property should be governed by the law of the country where it's physically located. When Japanese law checks the deceased's national law and finds that national law pointing right back at Japan for real estate, it accepts the handoff. The result, for a great many foreign owners, is that Japanese inheritance law ends up governing the Osaka property after all — even though the general rule says nationality should have controlled.
In practice, this means an American, British, Australian, or French owner's Osaka apartment is quite likely to be inherited according to Japanese Civil Code succession rules — statutory heirs, statutory shares, Japanese procedural requirements — regardless of what their home-country will assumed. It's a legal loop most estate lawyers back home have never had reason to learn, and it's exactly the kind of detail that a generic "how to buy property in Japan" article never mentions, because it only becomes relevant decades after the purchase.
Foreign owners — especially from the US, UK, Canada, and Australia — instinctively picture probate: a court validates the will, appoints an executor, and that executor distributes the estate. Japan doesn't work that way for the ordinary case.
In Japan, heirs inherit automatically, by operation of law, at the moment of death — this is sometimes called comprehensive succession. There is no court-appointed administrator standing between the deceased and the heirs. Instead, if there's more than one heir (which is the norm), all of them must reach unanimous written agreement — a document called an isan bunkatsu kyogisho, essentially a division agreement — spelling out who gets what, before the registry will transfer title to a specific asset.
Two details make this genuinely hard for foreign families, and neither is obvious in advance:
None of this is insurmountable. It's why judicial scriveners (shiho shoshi) exist as a profession in Japan and why coordinating between a foreign family, a Japanese registry office, and sometimes a home-country notary is a genuinely specialized task — not a form you fill in once and forget.
Until recently, one quiet reality softened all of the above: heirs who found the process too complicated could simply leave the property registered in the deceased's name indefinitely. Nothing forced them to act, so plenty of families — Japanese and foreign alike — never did, which is part of why Japan has accumulated so much land with unclear or "unknown" ownership over the decades.
That changed on April 1, 2024. Inheritance registration is now legally mandatory: heirs must register the change of ownership within three years of becoming aware that they inherited the property. Missing the deadline without a valid reason can result in a civil fine of up to ¥100,000. The rule is also retroactive — if you inherited a property before the law changed and it's still sitting unregistered, the same three-year clock applies, running out on March 31, 2027.
For a foreign heir living overseas, this timeline is unforgiving. Grief, distance, unfamiliar documentation requirements, and the difficulty of even locating the right Legal Affairs Bureau and gathering apostilled paperwork can eat up months before anyone has made real progress. A related change taking effect April 1, 2026 will also require registered owners to update their name or address within the registry within two years of any change — a rule aimed at the same underlying problem, and a reminder that Japan's registry system is actively tightening, not loosening, around foreign and absentee owners.
An unregistered inheritance isn't a paperwork footnote. Until it's resolved, the property effectively can't be sold, mortgaged, or cleanly rented out under the heir's own name, and each additional generation that passes without resolving it multiplies the number of people who must eventually agree.
Separate from title transfer, Japan levies inheritance tax on assets located in Japan, and real estate you own here typically falls within its scope regardless of where your heirs live. The basic structure — worth understanding in outline, even though the exact numbers deserve professional confirmation — is a tax-free basic exemption calculated as ¥30 million plus ¥6 million per statutory heir, with the remaining taxable value split according to statutory shares and taxed progressively, from roughly 10% at the low end up toward 55% at the very top of the scale.
Two things surprise foreign families here. First, the tax is assessed heir-by-heir, on each person's inherited share, not as one flat rate on the whole estate. Second, whether an heir living abroad owes Japanese inheritance tax at all — and whether it's limited to the Japan-situated property or extends further — depends on residency history that can be genuinely intricate for internationally mobile families. This is exactly the sort of detail that shifts with each tax reform cycle and depends on your family's specific residency footprint, so treat any inheritance tax figure, including the ones above, as a starting point for a conversation with a qualified Japanese tax accountant (zeirishi) — not a final answer.
What we notice most, working with foreign owners across the Kansai region, isn't that people get the legal details wrong — it's that they don't think about any of this until it becomes urgent, usually after a health scare or a death in the family, when the people left behind are grieving, often overseas, and facing a system they've never had to touch.
A property that's well-documented in advance — clear registry records, a Japan-compliant will where appropriate, an organized paper trail of leases, management contracts, and past renovations — turns a multi-year ordeal into a manageable process. A property that isn't tends to sit in limbo, sometimes for years, while heirs abroad try to piece together what their relative actually owned and how Japanese offices expect it documented.
This is squarely where a real estate partner earns its place, alongside — never instead of — the legal and tax professionals who handle the parts that require a license to touch. Maido Estate isn't a law firm and doesn't draft wills or file tax returns; what we do is keep the property side organized long before anyone needs it to be: coordinating management so records stay clean, liaising with family members across time zones and languages, and connecting you with the judicial scriveners, inheritance lawyers, and tax accountants who handle the procedural and fiscal side correctly the first time. Getting ahead of this is less about predicting the future and more about not leaving your family to untangle an unfamiliar legal system entirely on their own, at the worst possible moment.
If you own property in Osaka and haven't yet thought through what happens to it after you, it's worth a short, low-pressure conversation — not to sell you anything, but to understand what's realistically possible for your specific situation, and to avoid the mistakes we see foreign owners make most often. Reach out to Maido Estate whenever you're ready to talk it through.
