“It started with a single coin. And somehow, that tiny moment kept echoing through my life.” This is the story of Shunichi Nakagawa.
I still remember standing in front of a vending machine during my university internship, holding a single coin in my hand. I wasn’t a coffee drinker. Not even close. Coffee always felt like something adults understood and I didn’t. But everyone at the social work center drank it during their break, and part of me wanted to feel like I belonged — or maybe just feel a little older. So I bought the can, pressed the cold metal to my palm, and took a sip. It wasn’t specialty coffee, of course. Just a simple canned drink. But that sip did something to me. It made me curious. It made me take my first small step into a world I didn’t know would eventually change my life.
After that, I started drinking canned coffee regularly. Then, slowly, I began brewing the same Kaldi beans my parents drank every morning. Coffee became part of my routine — nothing fancy, just familiar. But one day I caught myself thinking, “I want to try something better. Something special.” So I searched online and stumbled across the words “specialty coffee.” It sounded mysterious, like a secret world.
If I was going to try specialty coffee, I wanted my first cup to be unforgettable. So I took a train for an hour and a half and walked into GLITCH Coffee Osaka — my very first specialty shop. I had never been anywhere like it. There were no cheap coffees. Everything was expensive, especially for a student like me. But I felt something inside me — excitement, curiosity, maybe even destiny. I ordered a Colombian pour-over, sat down, and took one sip.
And everything changed.
“It tastes like fruit. Actual fruit. This can’t be coffee, right?” I remember thinking that over and over. Until that moment, I had no idea coffee could taste like anything but coffee. But this cup tasted like berries, like tea, like something alive. That single moment opened a door in me. I walked out of GLITCH with a new obsession. I visited cafés all over Osaka. I talked to baristas. I asked questions. I tasted everything I could.
And then I met him — the barista who would change my life.
It happened by accident. I walked into a café near my new apartment and froze. Behind the counter was the barista I had admired on Instagram for months. Someone who shared beautiful coffee videos and talked about coffee in a way that made it feel like art. I visited the shop again and again until one day he said to me:
“Shun, why don’t you start sharing coffee on Instagram too? You’ll learn faster, and you’ll connect with people. Who knows? Maybe even equipment brands will find you.”
I said “Yes” immediately. I don’t think he expected me to take it seriously. But I went home, set up my phone, and posted my first video. It was simple, shaky, probably not very good. But I loved it. That barista became my mentor — someone I admire deeply, someone who believed in me before I believed in myself. For the next six months, I poured myself into making videos about coffee, brewing, and equipment. Not because I wanted followers, but because it made me happy.
My videos weren’t perfect. I only had 500 followers. But people commented that they bought the same tools I used, or that they started enjoying coffee because of something I posted. Someone told me my videos made their morning better. That meant everything to me.
Then one day, something new woke up inside me:
“I want to be a barista.”
Until that moment, coffee had been a hobby. Something I studied after work, something I explored through videos and café visits. But suddenly the dream grew bigger — I wanted to stand behind a counter. I wanted to brew real cups for real people. I wanted to be the person I admired for so long.
Right now, I still work as a social worker. I help people every day, and I’m grateful for that. But in my heart, I know where I’m heading next. I’m looking for my first barista job, training on my own, attending cuppings, studying more beans, practicing pour-overs at home, and creating videos that help me learn. Everything I do feels like another step toward the version of myself I want to become.
People often ask me why I’m so passionate about coffee. It’s simple.
Because baristas are the coolest people I know.
Because a cup of coffee can connect people who would never meet otherwise.
Because a hobby turned into a dream — and now that dream is turning into a path I’m walking with everything I have.
Success, to me, is becoming the person you imagine in your head — and never stopping the climb toward that version. One day, I want someone to look at me and think, “He started with nothing. He wasn’t even a barista. And now look at him.” I want people to feel that if I can do it, they can too. That you can start with one coin, one video, one cup — and still become someone great.
My friends inspire me the most. I’m surrounded by people who chase impossible dreams — becoming top stylists, building schools, running for mayor. They all push themselves toward the future they want. And I want to stand beside them as someone who made it, too.
Outside of coffee, I’m just Shun — a social worker in his second year, a runner who once competed nationally, a guy who reads every day, a bonsai lover obsessed with Goyomatsu pines, a traveler, a lifter, a photographer, and sometimes a “jack-of-all-trades” as my friends say. But the version of me I want to become is simple:
a barista who inspires people through coffee.
Coffee in Japan is changing. It’s becoming more expensive, more niche, more unfamiliar to many people. But I hope my videos — and one day my cups — make people curious instead of scared. I hope they remind others that coffee isn’t only about technique or knowledge. It’s about connection. It’s about sharing. It’s about joy.
And if someday you visit Osaka and want to say hi — please do. Message me on Instagram. I want to meet everyone who loves coffee, or wants to love it. I think people are the most important part of life. And if coffee can bring us together, even better.
All of this — every cup, every video, every dream — started with a single coin.
And I can’t wait to see where the next sip takes me.
