The Reason I Was Crying While Tapping on a Calculator—Sale, Toyota City

At two in the morning, I was tapping on a calculator.

I had papers spread out on the living room table: sale price, acquisition costs, brokerage fees, and deduction amounts. I entered the same numbers over and over, and the same answer came up every time. I knew it. The calculation was correct. But I couldn't stop my hands.

It was this spring that we decided to sell my mother's house. It had been two years since she passed away. My sister and I inherited it, discussed whether to maintain it or sell it, and ultimately decided to sell.

Saying we "decided" makes it sound simple, but in truth, we couldn't decide. Time slipped away, the property tax notices arrived, we called a lawn mowing service, and then the property tax notices arrived again. Eventually, my sister said, "I've reached my limit," and I replied, "I know." It was less of a decision and more of a process of elimination.

We asked a real estate company for an appraisal, signed a brokerage contract, and found a buyer within about six months. Everything up to that point had proceeded calmly. The problem was what came after.

The agent told me, "You should think about your tax return as well. You might be able to use the 30 million yen deduction." A deduction. Lower taxes. That was a welcome thought.

But the more I looked into it, the more complex the requirements were. Whether my mother lived alone. The age of the building. The deadline for the sale. Earthquake resistance standards. Since it was my mother's house and not my own, it seemed I would be using the "Special Exception for Vacant Houses" rather than the standard 30 million yen deduction.

One night, while reading the National Tax Agency's website in front of my computer, my mind went blank. I couldn't understand what I was reading. Even though it was Japanese, it just wouldn't sink in.

So, I took out my calculator. I felt that if I could just crunch the numbers myself, I might be able to understand what I couldn't grasp on the computer screen.

Sale price: 21 million yen. For acquisition costs, I found the contract from when my mother bought the house, so calculating that amount plus the building's depreciation came to about 6.8 million yen. Brokerage fees and miscellaneous expenses were about 800,000 yen.

21 million yen - 6.8 million yen - 800,000 yen = 13.4 million yen.

This was the capital gain. If I could deduct 30 million yen from this, the tax would be zero. If not, I would owe about 2.7 million yen in taxes.

2.7 million yen.

When I saw that number, my fingers trembled. That's why I kept tapping the calculator over and over. Changing the numbers wouldn't change the result. But by tapping, I felt like I was doing something.

Around three in the morning, my hands suddenly stopped. I looked down at the paper on the table and realized I didn't know what I was doing.

I wasn't calculating taxes. I was asking the numbers for permission to sell this house. If the deduction could be used, the tax would be zero. That would be the numbers' stamp of approval saying, "You won't lose money if you sell." If I wouldn't lose money, then it was okay to sell.

At that moment, tears welled up. Still clutching the calculator, I pressed my forehead against the table and cried.

The next morning, with my eyes still swollen, I called my sister. When I said, "I'm worried about the deduction," she listened silently. After I finished talking, she said this:

"Let's ask a tax accountant about the taxes. We won't find the answer by tapping on a calculator in the middle of the night."

Then, after a brief pause, she continued:

"Selling Mom's house is something we already decided together, right? It's not about the money."

That was it. We didn't decide to sell because the property taxes were heavy or because maintenance was difficult. We didn't want to let Mom's house rot away while sitting vacant. That was the answer we had both reached.

Hearing my sister's words, I put down the calculator. I could look into whether the deduction was applicable tomorrow. When I thought that, for some reason, the string of numbers from that night felt both ridiculous and poignant as I remembered them.

This article is a narrative edit based on the real-life experiences of a client who consulted with us in the past. If this helps others who are feeling the same way realize that "they are not the only ones struggling," then that alone makes writing this worthwhile.

For those who want to know the overall flow beyond just the numbers, we have prepared a complete guide to the procedure for selling inherited real estate in Toyota City.Complete Procedure for Selling Inherited Real Estate in Toyota CityPlease take a look.