The Yakuza Boss Featured in Yakuza and the Constitution Reveals What It Really Means to Leave the Underworld

The gang disbanded, and the office became an empty lot

In a residential neighborhood in Sakai City, Osaka, a man stood in front of a vacant lot where the office of a yakuza organization once stood. He was Kazuhide Kawaguchi, 73, the former head of the second-generation Seiyukai, affiliated with the designated organized crime group Azumigumi. He was also the central figure portrayed in the documentary “Yakuza and the Constitution,” which was broadcast on television in 2015 and released as a film in 2016.

The documentary brought cameras inside the gang’s office and laid bare the everyday realities of the yakuza world. At a time when efforts to exclude organized crime groups were gaining momentum nationwide, the film highlighted cases such as children being refused admission to kindergartens simply because their parents were members of a criminal organization. It raised questions about organized crime and human rights, generating a major public response.

More than a decade has passed since then. In 2022, Kawaguchi left the world of organized crime, and his group was disbanded. Under the so-called “five-year rule,” former members of organized crime groups are generally still regarded as members of antisocial forces for five years after leaving their organization. That restriction will expire for Kawaguchi next spring. With that milestone approaching, he spoke about what life had been like over the past four years.

“Even now, there are credit cards that I can’t get from certain companies. I can’t buy a car, and I can’t get insurance. Those kinds of inconveniences are just part of life, you know. In my case, though, I happened to be able to open a bank account at a local bank. I don’t know what went into the bank’s decision, but I’m grateful for it.”

The office was demolished three years ago, and the land was sold to a third party. He said his retirement from the organization happened rather abruptly.

“I called the person in charge of organized crime at the Osaka Prefectural Police and told him, ‘I’m taking down the sign.’ I didn’t submit any formal paperwork, such as a notification of dissolution. That was all there was to the process. It was surprisingly simple.

There were various paintings and antiques in the office, but I sold some of them to get whatever money I could and gave others to people who had helped me. I don’t have anything left. Well, there wasn’t much point in keeping them myself anyway.”

Asked why he decided to retire, he now declines to elaborate, saying only, “There were all sorts of things—things that didn’t sit right with me, betrayals, and so on.”

Afterward, however, he was subjected to a series of acts of harassment by people connected to the organization he had once belonged to.

His car windows were smashed and a fire extinguisher was discharged inside the vehicle. On another occasion, a pig’s severed head with a knife stuck into it was left at the home of an acquaintance. Leaving the organization did not mean that he could simply live a peaceful, trouble-free life.

The approximately 30 members went their separate ways

Of the approximately 30 members the group had in 2015, its members have since scattered, and quite a few are now of unknown whereabouts. Some turned to illegal activities to make a living and are currently serving prison sentences.

“I don’t think there are many who are actually making a living. Once people point at you and say, ‘You’re yakuza,’ you can’t even get a job. In the end, your history as a yakuza follows you around for the rest of your life.

Several have been arrested, including some of the senior members.

Even after leaving the group, the police keep an eye on you. Since the group has already been disbanded, I hardly ever reach out to them myself, but I do try to be there if they need someone to talk to.”

Even so, Kawaguchi never returned to his former world. That was because he had made friends among ordinary civilians.

“They’re in all kinds of industries—real estate, manufacturing, transportation, logistics, you name it. The gang members are gone, but in terms of getting to know people like that, I’m glad I left the yakuza world.”

Kawaguchi stopped attending school partway through middle school. In his second year, he was subjected to discriminatory treatment by a teacher, which led him to set fire to the school building. Not long afterward, he entered the world of organized crime. At 17, he shot a member of a rival organization with a handgun, seriously injuring him, and went on to live a violent life as a hard-line yakuza member, with conflicts often answered with bloodshed.

At the same time, despite growing up poor, he followed the strict teachings of his father and made it his principle never to bully the weak. He reportedly never targeted ordinary civilians. Even today, when he visits familiar restaurants and shops, regular customers casually call out to him as “Chairman,” and he sometimes shares drinks and conversations with people he has just met.

After spending more than 50 years in the world of organized crime, what does he think now that he has left it behind? When asked about his feelings, he offered this response:

“When it comes to pursuing your own path to the fullest, it’s the same wherever you are. But now I want to do the things that I can only do from my current position. From here on, I intend to contribute to society, including helping people with disabilities find employment. I spent nearly 30 years in prison, so if you subtract those years, I figure I’m only about 40 years old. My life is only just beginning.”

With that, Kawaguchi quietly smiled.

From the July 31, 2026 issue of “FRIDAY.”