The year was 2003, in Osaka’s forgotten alleys—a place where people disappeared into the cracks of society. It was here that Matsunori Kaito first envisioned what would become Net Kakurega. But to understand why he built it, you must first understand the man himself.
A Reflection of Loss
Matsunori’s connection to the homeless began with his own tragedy. His parents, fishermen in a quiet coastal town, were lost to the sea when he was still a boy. Their sudden absence left a void, a rootless existence that defined his youth. At 17, he left his village, drifting through Tokyo’s shadows.
In those years of wandering, Matsunori lived among the homeless, worked odd jobs, and learned to survive in the spaces society forgot. He saw the quiet resilience of those on the margins, but also the crushing weight of invisibility. These experiences stayed with him, shaping his empathy and his understanding of what it means to have nowhere to turn.
“I know what it feels like to drift without anchor,” Matsunori once said. “To lose yourself in the noise of the world.”
The Philosophy of Refuge
Matsunori’s Three Tenets of Silence—discovered beneath a massive black pine tree (黒松, Kuromatsu)—became the foundation for his philosophy and, eventually, Net Kakurega.
Silence of the Mind: To face oneself without distraction.
Silence of the Heart: To feel the weight of one’s desires without judgment.
Silence of the World: To exist without leaving a footprint.
These Tenets reflect Matsunori’s belief in the importance of stillness. For him, offering shelter wasn’t just about providing physical comfort—it was about creating a moment of peace in the chaos of life. A refuge wasn’t a solution to life’s struggles, but a space where someone could begin to confront them.
Building Sanctuaries, Not Solutions
When Matsunori opened the first Net Kakurega in the underbelly of Osaka, it wasn’t a grand project or a charitable initiative. It was a sanctuary—a single room in a dilapidated building, open to those who needed a place to rest, to think, or to simply be.
Matsunori never claimed to fix anyone. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t demand anything in return. He trusted that those who entered his refuge would carry their own burdens forward.
“I can’t carry their weight,” he once said. “But I can give them a place to set it down, if only for a little while.”
The Criminal and Spiritual Underworlds
Matsunori’s time in Tokyo exposed him to both the spiritual and the criminal underworlds. He learned from Zen practitioners and martial artists, from street fighters and thieves. These dual influences shaped his understanding of the world—and of the people society often discarded.
Matsunori understood that those who sought refuge at Net Kakurega weren’t simply homeless or desperate. They were human. They were people with stories, struggles, and unspoken dignity. Society had written them off, but Matsunori refused to do the same.
“To be unseen is not to be unworthy,” he wrote in one of his earliest teachings. “Everyone deserves a place where the world cannot reach them.”
Legacy Over Charity
Matsunori didn’t see Net Kakurega as an act of charity. He saw it as a tool—one that could help people find the strength to face themselves.
Shelter, to him, was more than a roof. It was a place where someone could experience the silence of the mind, the heart, and the world. A place where fear of the outside melted away, if only for a moment.
This was Matsunori’s legacy: creating sanctuaries that offered something more profound than temporary relief. They offered dignity, reflection, and a fleeting sense of peace.
A Flickering Light in the Shadows
The first Net Kakurega started small, but word of its existence spread. By 2005, Matsunori had expanded to new locations, each one a quiet refuge hidden in the cracks of bustling cities. He never advertised, never sought attention, and rarely showed his face. Yet his philosophy was etched into the walls of every Kakurega, a quiet reminder of the man who built them.
For Matsunori, the mission was never about numbers or recognition. It was about creating spaces for the forgotten, for those who needed to rest, reflect, and gather the strength to move forward.
Why It Matters
Matsunori built the first Net Kakurega not to change the world, but because he knew what it felt like to need a place to hide. He understood that refuge is not about escape—it’s about finding the courage to face yourself.
What began as a single room in Osaka has since grown into a movement, carried forward by those who share Matsunori’s vision. His sanctuaries continue to light the way for those who wander in the shadows.
As Matsunori himself once said:
“We build not for the sake of saving others, but because we remember what it was to be them.”
Please forgive me for posting all these documents from my archives at once. I will try to release the rest of what I have gathered at a more regular pace in the future!