"Dream, Dream, Dream! Conduct these dreams into thoughts, and then transform them into action."
- Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam
13 Aug 2025
In a world increasingly driven by efficiency, automation, and cost-cutting, the story of Kyu-Shirataki Station in Hokkaido, Japan, stands out as a rare example of humanity in public service. Until 2016, this small, remote station remained operational for one unique reason: to ensure that a single high school student, Kana Harada, could attend school without enduring an exhausting daily journey. Japan Railways, the company that operated the station, had originally planned to close it due to declining ridership and the end of freight services in the area. But upon learning that local students, especially Kana, relied on it to get to school, they made a remarkable decision: the station would stay open until she graduated.
Kana Harada lived in a rural area where public transportation options were limited. Without Kyu-Shirataki Station, her nearest point to catch an express train would have been a 73-minute walk away, an impossible distance for a teenager to manage daily alongside her studies. Even with the station open, her commute was no small feat. Only four trains stopped there each day—two in the morning and two in the evening. Just two of them matched her school schedule, which meant she often had to sprint from class to catch the last train home. Yet, despite the challenges, Kyu-Shirataki Station was her lifeline to education.
This wasn’t simply a case of providing transportation; it was about ensuring opportunity. Education is one of the most powerful tools for changing a person’s future, and in rural areas, access to it can be difficult. For Kana, the train was more than a ride; it was her bridge to learning, to friends, and to a life beyond the isolated countryside. By keeping the station open, Japan Railways showed that public services, when rooted in compassion, can change lives in ways that go beyond the balance sheet.
In an era where companies and governments often make decisions based purely on financial viability, this story offers a powerful counter-narrative. For years, running the train to Kyu-Shirataki for a single passenger wasn’t “profitable” in the traditional sense. But it paid dividends in dignity, community trust, and global admiration. It’s a reminder that infrastructure, whether it’s a road, a bridge, or a railway, is ultimately built for people, not just for numbers on a spreadsheet.
The station finally closed in March 2016, when Kana Harada graduated high school and the academic year came to an end. On her last day, the train ride became more than just a routine commute; it was the closing chapter of a story that had captured hearts worldwide. As the doors shut for the final time, it wasn’t just the end of a service but the celebration of a principle: that in the right hands, even large institutions can place human needs above commercial gain.
In 2025, as public transport systems worldwide face rising operational costs and political debates over subsidies, the lesson of Kyu-Shirataki remains relevant. It asks us:Should all decisions be guided by profit alone? For rural students, workers, and elderly citizens, public transport is often the only connection to education, healthcare, and essential services. Removing it can have life-altering consequences.
Japan Railways’ choice shows that investing in people can have a social return far greater than any financial metric. Though the station has been closed for years now, its story continues to inspire. It is cited in discussions about rural development, public service ethics, and transportation policy. For Kana Harada, it was the bridge to her education. For the rest of us, it’s a powerful example of what happens when humanity takes precedence over economics. And while not every underused station can be kept open indefinitely, the message is clear: when possible, decisions that put people first can leave a legacy far more enduring than steel tracks or timetables.