Collection: Moon-light (ballpoint pen)

In the deep of night in Shinshu — Nagano's mountain region — only the moonlight falls on what's in your hands. I wanted to seal that feeling of stillness, of nagi (a windless calm), into a single pen. That is where Moon-light (Tsukiakari) began.

For this pen's material, I chose ebonite. Made by hardening natural rubber with sulfur, it is the world's oldest man-made resin — and yet it carries a warmth that feels almost alive. It has none of the coldness of plastic; its texture clings gently to the hand, almost as if it were holding yours back. The more it is used, the more it seems to take on the warmth of the hand that holds it, deepening in character until each pen becomes one of a kind.

What I put the most care into is carving a single, unbroken line from a solid block of ebonite. Making the nib section and the barrel as separate parts would be easier, but that always leaves behind a faint seam or looseness. That is why we chose to carve everything from one solid block instead.

In particular, shaping the tip right up to the very edge of the refill core is a line I won't compromise on. Cut too much, and it fails; leave it too loose, and the writing wavers ever so slightly. It's this precision — pushed to a point where no hesitation is allowed — that creates the unwavering stability you feel the moment pen meets paper.

This design asks for a certain honesty. It admits no play whatsoever, and accepts only the high-precision G2-standard refill (a refill format built to tight tolerances). What we chose to protect, even at the cost of flexibility, is a maker's pride: never letting anything come between the writer and their thoughts.

The one-piece ebonite body promises something that never changes, no matter whose hand it passes into — an unwavering stability. But the wood chosen for the tail end shows a different expression in every single pen. What stays the same, and what changes: I think it's holding both at once that lets Moon-light settle into just the right kind of quiet — neither the uniformity of mass production, nor the restlessness of a one-of-a-kind piece.

The character of the ebonite only deepens the longer you use it. I hope that within it, you can feel a writing experience without a single cloud in it.