Even now, I keep thinking about what I wrote on that test paper.

Was it enough?

Did I pass?

Or did I fail again?

I honestly don’t know.

When I finished the test, the lady collected my papers and told me that they wouldn’t be checking my answers or telling me the results. The test would simply be submitted to the higher office, and they would decide.

So now, all I can do is wait.

It had been a long day, but I was thankful that it was finally over.

Well… almost.

Before I could leave, the lady then gave me a photocopy of another list of requirements. and asked me to make photocopies of my bankbook and one page of my passport.

That meant another 10-minute one-way walk to the nearest convenience store.

As I walked, a tiny voice in the back of my head couldn’t help but think, “There’s a copy machine in your office. Couldn’t you have just made the copies yourselves?”

Then I caught myself.

There it was again.

I reminded myself of the mindset I had adopted before coming.

They’re robots.

Not because they’re cold or unfriendly, but because they have rules to follow. Their job is to make sure every document is complete and every procedure is followed exactly as required.

Nothing personal.

Just doing their job.

So I made the copies, returned to the office, and handed them over without saying a word.

Apparently, the rules had changed starting in April, and there were now additional documents that applicants must submit.

That means I still have more paperwork to gather before my next appointment in September.

So, no…

This journey isn’t over.

In many ways, it’s only just beginning.

Oddly enough, though, I like it.

Yes, it’s difficult.

Yes, it’s stressful.

But I like challenges.

If becoming Japanese were easy, perhaps it wouldn’t mean as much to me.

Every document I collect, every form I complete, every bus ride, every mistake I correct, and every kanji I struggle to remember is another step toward a dream I’ve held for many years.

I don’t know yet whether I passed today’s test.

Maybe I did.

Maybe I didn’t.

But this time, I walked out of that building differently than I did last year.

Last year, I walked out in tears.

This year, I walked out with hope.

And sometimes, hope is enough to keep moving forward.

One day, I hope to look back on this journey—not as a series of paperwork, tests, and long bus rides—but as the story of how I finally became Japanese.

Until then…

I’ll keep going.