From Tokyo to Osaka to Sapporo, Japan’s legal battle over same-sex marriage has unfolded in courts for years. But on 28 November 2025, the Tokyo High Court delivered a blow to hopes for full marriage equality, ruling that the national ban on same-sex marriage does not violate the constitution — making this the only high-court decision among six lawsuits to uphold the ban. Critics denounced the ruling as a step backward, yet the spotlight now turns to the Supreme Court of Japan, which is expected to deliver a final, unified verdict possibly as early as next year.
In its decision, the Tokyo High Court reversed a 2024 district-court ruling that had found the denial of same-sex marriage to be unconstitutional. The court’s reasoning rested on long-standing legal interpretations under the Civil Code and the Family Registration Act: that “marriage” (結婚, kekkon) is understood to mean a union between a man and a woman, and that the constitutionally protected notion of “family” (家族, kazoku) is best anchored in the traditional model of a heterosexual couple raising children. Therefore, the exclusion of same-sex couples from legal marriage — the judges held — does not breach equality under the law (Article 14) or the constitutional provisions on marriage (Article 24). Claims for damages by the plaintiffs — eight people seeking 1 million yen each — were also dismissed.
This ruling stands in sharp contrast to five other recent high-court decisions around the country. Courts in Sapporo, Nagoya, Osaka, Fukuoka and even a prior Tokyo ruling had concluded that denying same-sex couples access to marriage violated constitutional guarantees of equality and individual dignity, notably under Article 14 and Article 24. Some judgments went further, invoking Article 13 — the right to pursue one’s happiness — as grounds for overturning the ban.
Tokyo’s ruling thus represents not just a legal defeat for LGBTQ+ advocates — but also a sobering reminder of how deeply entrenched traditional conceptions of family remain in Japan’s legal fabric. Still, the decision carried with it a warning: the court urged legislators in the National Diet to address the issue through legislation if the status quo becomes untenable. The message was clear: while the judiciary may defer to existing law today, the ultimate resolution may lie in political, not judicial, reform.
That warning may already be resonating. Over the past decade, local governments across Japan — now numbering more than 509 municipalities and 31 prefectures — have introduced “partnership certification” schemes (パートナーシップ証明制度, pātonāshippu shōmei seido) granting same-sex couples limited administrative recognition. These certificates provide modest rights such as hospital visitation and housing co-tenant status, but stop short of marriage’s full legal protections: inheritance, spousal tax treatment, and shared social benefits remain off-limits.
In 2025 alone, the government extended de facto-marriage status under 24 national laws to same-sex partners, covering everything from tenancy laws to victims’ compensation — but again stopped short of legalizing marriage itself.
Cultural shifts among the public, however, continue to move in the opposite direction of the court’s conservative stance. Surveys conducted in recent years show that majority support for same-sex marriage among Japanese citizens has increased significantly; younger generations, in particular, appear ready to embrace a broader conception of family.
With the Supreme Court now set to rule, the question is no longer purely legal — it has become deeply political and existential for Japan’s LGBTQ+ community. Will Tokyo’s conservative verdict hold, or will the top court align with the growing chorus of judicial precedents, local governments and public opinion calling for full marriage equality? Either way, the path to change seems both uncertain — and inevitable.
Spicy Auntie here, stirring her tea and trying not to fling the cup across the room like a frustrated kabuki heroine. This Tokyo High Court ruling? A dusty little relic pulled from the attic of Japan’s anxieties. The judges in their lacquered chambers clutching the old scripts of “tradition,” insisting that kekkon must only mean one man and one woman—as if the universe itself would wobble off its axis if two women filed taxes together. These gentlemen (and it’s almost always gentlemen, isn’t it?) are performing a kind of judicial cosplay, reenacting the world of昭和 (Shōwa, the old era) while the rest of Japan quietly, steadily walks into another century.
But here’s the twist in the plot: elsewhere in Japan, the legal winds are blowing in a wonderfully different direction. Courts from Sapporo to Fukuoka have stood up straighter, breathed deeply, and declared that denying marriage to same-sex couples violates equality and dignity. These rulings sound like they were written by people who have met real queer folks, not just imagined them as shadows from a morality pamphlet. And local governments? Bless their pragmatic, forward-thinking hearts. Over 500 municipalities now recognize partnership systems, handing out pātonāshippu shōmei certificates like tiny, shining lanterns in a system still reluctant to turn on the main light.
So let’s be very clear: Tokyo’s High Court is not the voice of modern Japan. It is the echo of a past that young Japanese are increasingly leaving behind. Stroll through Shibuya, chat with university students in Kansai, listen to the post–pandemic generation that has seen enough repression to last a lifetime—they aren’t interested in policing love. They’re interested in fairness, in expanding the idea of kazoku (family), in building a country where joy isn’t a legal loophole.
And since Auntie has traveled up and down this region, let me whisper something across borders: Asia needs a grown-up conversation about family. Family is not just bloodlines, baby-making, or stubborn hierarchies. It is mutual care, shared futures, chosen bonds. Thai phûu-chaai rak phûu-chaai couples, Filipino same-sex parents raising brilliant kids, Taiwanese spouses who fought for years and finally won—Asia is already redefining family. Japan, for all its elegance and innovation, now risks becoming the straggler.
Tokyo High Court may have delivered a reactionary verdict, but the tide is elsewhere. The youth are elsewhere. The future—and the families of that future—are elsewhere. And if Japan is wise, it will listen before its judiciary begins to look not just old, but fossilized.
Spicy Auntie says: open the windows, let the fresh air in, and let people love without legal superstition.