A Quiet Landing in a Storm of Rumors
On July 5, 2025, a Boeing 737-800 operated by Greater Bay Airlines landed at Tokushima Airport, roughly 30 minutes behind schedule. The aircraft, painted in white with a striking blue tail, had flown in from Hong Kong, a bustling hub for travelers heading to Japan. With a capacity of 188 passengers, the plane should have been a lifeline of tourism for this rural region. Yet, as the arrivals lobby opened, fewer than 20 people trickled out after clearing immigration—a stark contrast to the usual buzz of an international flight.
A security guard stationed in the lobby couldn’t hide his surprise. “It’s really quiet today,” he remarked. Among the sparse arrivals was a businessman hurriedly renting a car for a meeting, trailed by a family lugging oversized suitcases. The father, guiding his young children, chuckled wryly, “I didn’t believe the prophecy. The world’s gone a bit crazy, hasn’t it?”
What caused this eerie emptiness? A rumor of a catastrophic disaster predicted for that very day—July 5, 2025—had swept through social media, originating from a manga artist’s book. This unfounded prophecy not only spooked travelers but also led to the cancellation of flights from Hong Kong to Tokushima and Yonago airports, dealing a severe blow to the local economies of these regions. While the disaster never occurred, the ripple effects of the rumor have left a deep scar on Japan’s efforts to revitalize its rural areas.
In this article, we’ll unpack the origins of this rumor, its devastating impact on regional airports, the role of social media in spreading misinformation, and what this incident reveals about the challenges—and opportunities—for local revitalization in Japan.
(Visitors from Hong Kong leaving the arrival lobby)
The Prophecy That Took Flight: A Manga’s Unexpected Influence
The root of this chaos can be traced to The Future I Saw, a manga penned by Tatsuki Ryo in 1999. Based on the artist’s dreams, the book depicted a future Japan marred by disaster. It gained widespread attention when readers retroactively linked one of its visions to the 2011 Tohoku earthquake, a magnitude-9.0 catastrophe that claimed nearly 20,000 lives. In 2021, a “complete edition” of the manga was released, featuring an updated prediction: a massive tsunami would strike Japan in July 2025. The afterword pinpointed July 5 as the date, igniting speculation.
Though lacking scientific grounding, this prophecy found fertile ground online. Social media platforms like YouTube and X (formerly Twitter) buzzed with videos and posts hyping the supposed doomsday. Some creators even tied it to other apocalyptic tales, amplifying its reach. The Japan Meteorological Agency stepped in, holding press conferences to debunk the rumor as “fake news” and stressing the absence of evidence for any imminent disaster. But by then, the narrative had spiraled beyond control.
This wasn’t the first time a vague prediction captured public imagination. In the late 1990s, Nostradamus’ prophecy of the world’s end in July 1999 sparked similar hysteria. Likewise, The Future I Saw became a modern-day “prophecy book,” its Chinese translation fueling panic in Hong Kong and beyond.
Grounded Dreams: The Economic Fallout for Tokushima and Yonago
The rumor didn’t just stay online—it hit Japan’s regional airports hard. Greater Bay Airlines, a Hong Kong-based budget carrier, had been operating flights to Tokushima and Yonago, alongside larger hubs like Narita, Kansai, and Sendai. For Tokushima, the Hong Kong route—launched in November 2024—ran three times weekly with a respectable 55% occupancy rate initially. But as the July 5 rumor spread in Hong Kong, bookings tanked.
By May 2025, the Tokushima-Hong Kong route’s occupancy rate had plummeted to 22%, well below the profitability threshold. The airline slashed flights to twice weekly on May 12, but as the fateful date neared and fear gripped travelers, Greater Bay Airlines suspended the route entirely starting in September. Yonago’s Hong Kong flights met the same fate.
Local leaders were left reeling. Tokushima Governor Masazumi Gotoda called the cancellations “regrettable,” blaming “unscientific rumors” and expressing hope for a recovery-driven resumption. Tottori Governor Shinji Hirai stressed maintaining ties with the airline, saying, “We want to keep the conversation alive for autumn and beyond.” For these regions, the loss wasn’t just a flight schedule—it was a lifeline to tourism and economic growth severed.
Social Media: The Spark That Lit the Fire
How did a manga’s musings escalate into an international crisis? Social media was the accelerant. According to social psychologist Gordon Allport, rumors thrive when evidence is ambiguous, inviting speculation. The vague wording of The Future I Saw—coupled with lingering societal unease in Japan and Hong Kong—created a perfect storm.
Both regions were navigating post-COVID economic challenges and social tensions. In Japan, rural depopulation and an uneven tourism recovery fueled uncertainty. In Hong Kong, economic slowdowns pushed residents toward cheaper domestic travel within China. Against this backdrop, a disaster prediction offered an escape—a way to project anxieties onto a dramatic future event.
The rumor’s cross-border spread was aided by the manga’s Chinese edition, which resonated with Hong Kong audiences already wary of travel disruptions. Viral videos and posts, unchecked by fact-checking, turned a niche prophecy into a social phenomenon, echoing the Nostradamus panic of decades past.
A Blow to Local Revitalization: Tokushima and Tottori’s Struggles
For Tokushima and Tottori prefectures, the flight cancellations were a devastating setback in their fight against decline. As of June 2025,-dot-dotdot Tokushima’s population stood at roughly 680,000, while Tottori’s was a mere 530,000—the smallest of Japan’s 47 prefectures. These areas rank near the bottom for international tourism, with just 0.3% of 2024’s foreign visitors choosing them, placing them 42nd nationwide, per Japan National Tourism Organization data.
To combat this, both prefectures had pinned hopes on international flights. Tokushima welcomed Hong Kong and South Korea routes in late 2024, while Yonago boasted connections to Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea by 2025. These flights were meant to draw tourists to local attractions—like Tokushima’s Awa Odori festival or Tottori’s stunning sand dunes—boosting economies hit hard by population loss and the COVID-19 slump.
Yet, Japan’s post-pandemic tourism boom has favored big cities. In 2024, Tokushima logged just 16,000 foreign overnight stays (40th nationally), while Tottori trailed at 7,200 (47th), per the Japan Tourism Agency. The Hong Kong routes, still in their infancy, were a rare win—until the rumor struck.
(Tokushima Airport)
The Economic Ripple Effect: A 560 Billion Yen Threat
The financial stakes were staggering. In May 2025, Nomura Research Institute economist Takahide Kiuchi warned that unchecked rumors could slash Japan’s inbound tourism demand by 560 billion yen (about $3.7 billion USD at mid-2025 rates). For rural areas like Tokushima and Tottori, where every tourist dollar counts, this was a gut punch. Hotels, restaurants, and shops—already stretched thin—faced a leaner future without the steady flow of international visitors.
Fighting Back: Lessons in Countering Misinformation
This incident underscores the double-edged nature of social media. While it’s a potent tool for promoting tourism—think viral Instagram posts of Tottori’s dunes—it can also amplify falsehoods with alarming speed. To recover, local governments must get savvier. Partnering with influencers to showcase safety and charm, launching fact-based campaigns, and investing in digital outreach could turn the tide.
Airlines, too, need robust crisis plans. Clear communication with travelers and collaboration with local authorities can rebuild trust. Japan’s regional airports can’t afford another rumor-fueled collapse.
A Silver Lining? Reimagining Regional Tourism
Amid the gloom, there’s room for reinvention. Tokushima and Yonago could pivot to niche markets—eco-tourism, cultural immersion, or remote work retreats—offering experiences big cities can’t. Imagine digital nomads working from Tottori’s coastal villages or eco-tourists exploring Tokushima’s rugged mountains. Pair this with smarter SNS strategies, and these regions could emerge as must-visit hidden gems.
Conclusion: Healing the Wounds of a Rumor
The July 5, 2025, “disaster” never came, but its fallout lingers. For Tokushima and Yonago, the loss of Hong Kong flights is a stark reminder of social media’s power—and peril. Recovery will demand resilience, innovation, and a proactive stance against misinformation. With the right moves, these regions can not only rebound but redefine themselves as destinations worth discovering.
Reference by Yasushi Takada
