Midori Tobira Diary Series: 3-Year vs 5-Year (Complete Buyer's Guide)
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読む時間 9 min
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読む時間 9 min
I started using the Midori Tobira 5-Year Diary in February 2023, after it was gifted to me by a friend. They handed me the red cloth-bound book in its protective sleeve, and I remember thinking it looked too elegant for daily scribbling. Two years later, I reach for it every morning before my first coffee, and the ritual has become as essential as the beverage itself.
The Tobira series (tobira means "door" or "gate" in Japanese) comes in three formats, and understanding which one fits your journaling style makes the difference between a diary you use daily and one that collects dust. After testing all three versions and watching customers interact with them at Fujinote, I can tell you the choice comes down to three factors: how much time you want to spend writing, how much space you need per entry, and how long you want to maintain the same book.
Before diving into each version, the concept itself deserves explanation because it differs fundamentally from traditional diaries. Each page represents one calendar date. If you open to January 15th in the 5-Year Diary, you'll see five horizontal sections on that single page. The first year, you fill in the top section. Next January 15th, you write in the second section while reading what you wrote the previous year. This layering effect turns retrospection into an automatic part of your daily practice.
The impact of this format sneaks up on you. During my second year with the 5-Year Diary, I wrote about struggling with a product sourcing decision on March 8th, only to discover I'd had nearly identical concerns the previous March 8th. That pattern recognition changed how I approached the decision.
The 5-Year Diary measures 185 x 117 x 25mm, with each daily section offering roughly 20 lines at 6mm spacing. In practice, this translates to about 3-4 sentences per day if you write at a comfortable size with a standard pen. The paper is MD Paper, which Midori developed in the 1960s and has continuously refined. With fountain pens (I primarily use a Pilot Custom 823 with medium nib and Iroshizuku ink), there's zero bleed-through and minimal ghosting. The slight tooth to the paper provides feedback without catching the nib.
What makes the 5-Year format work is its constraint. You can't write sprawling entries because there's simply no room. This limitation becomes liberating once you accept it. I write one key event, one observation, or one feeling. Three years from now, those compressed thoughts will trigger complete memories.
The spacing between years creates clear visual separation. When I read my 2023 and 2024 entries simultaneously while writing my 2025 entry, the differences in handwriting alone tell a story about my state of mind on those dates.
The standard 3-Year Diary (185 x 117 x 25mm, same footprint as the 5-Year) provides 7mm line spacing instead of 6mm. This seemingly minor change delivers meaningfully more writing space. Each section accommodates roughly 6-8 sentences of comfortable writing. For someone who wants to capture more detail without committing to decade-long projects, this hits the sweet spot.
The extra millimeter matters more than the specs suggest. When I tested both formats side by side for a month, I found myself naturally writing more complete thoughts in the 3-Year version. The 5-Year Diary pushes you toward telegraphic brevity. The 3-Year Diary allows for brief storytelling.
Longer entries would require aggressive editing for the 5-Year format but fit comfortably in the 3-Year. If your journaling tends toward narrative rather than note-taking, the 3-Year Diary accommodates your style without overwhelming you with blank space.
The Mini version (154 x 117 x 24mm) changed my mind about what journaling could be. Each date provides exactly two lines per year at 7mm spacing. Two lines. That's it.
This sounds absurdly restrictive until you try it. The Mini is the fastest journaling experience I've encountered. Open to today's date, write two lines, close the book. Thirty seconds, maximum. Some days I write "Cold. Reviewed Q4 inventory reports." Other days: "Discovered Yamato Brush pens can create effects similar to sumi ink. Store demo videos?" The brevity forces you to identify what matters most about each day.
The Mini format succeeds because it eliminates the intimidation factor. People who have never maintained journals succeed with this format. I gave one to an assistant who had tried and abandoned four different journaling systems. She's been using the Mini daily for eight months because it requires so little time and mental energy.
The smaller footprint makes it more portable. It fits in jacket pockets and small bags. If you travel frequently or write in varied locations, this practical advantage matters. I keep my standard 5-Year Diary on my desk at home. The Mini travels.
All three versions share the same build approach. The cloth hardcovers resist wear remarkably well. My 5-Year Diary shows almost no degradation after two years of daily handling. The gold foil stamping on the cover and spine remains crisp. Some users worry about the foil wearing off, but I've not seen it happen even with regular use.
The thread binding is critical. Unlike perfect-bound notebooks that crack at the spine, thread-sewn binding allows these diaries to open completely flat at any page. When you're writing in the middle of year three in your 5-Year Diary, the book still lies flat without hand pressure. This sounds minor until you're trying to write while holding coffee in your other hand.
Each diary includes two ribbon bookmarks. The practical implementation here shows thoughtful design. I use one bookmark for today's date and one for a specific date I want to revisit. Maybe it's my birthday, so I can see all past entries in one place. Maybe it's the day I started a particular project. Having two ribbons eliminates the need for improvised bookmarks (folded corners, random pieces of paper) that plague single-ribbon notebooks.
The protective storage box deserves mention. These are rigid cardboard slipcases that fit each diary precisely. The 5-Year Diary's red cloth cover sits in a light beige box. The 3-Year Diaries come in brown or light blue covers with corresponding boxes. This isn't decorative packaging you discard. The boxes protect the diaries during the inevitable moments when you're not actively using them. If you write in the morning, you return the diary to its box. Three years later, the cover still looks new.
Each month begins with a full page showing a different door illustration. January might show a traditional Japanese sliding door. March features a garden gate. July presents a beach house door. These aren't photographic reproductions but pencil-sketch style drawings with enough detail to be interesting but enough simplicity to avoid overwhelming the page.
The doors serve as chapter markers in your personal story. When you flip through the diary quickly, the door pages create natural breaking points. They also establish a mood for each month. The February door illustration in my 5-Year Diary is a heavy wooden door with visible iron hardware, which somehow captures the feeling of late winter in Tokyo better than a seasonal symbol would.
More functionally important are the edge illustrations. Each month features a small illustration printed on the fore-edge (the edge opposite the spine) of all pages in that month. January might show snowflakes. May shows leaves. October shows autumn foliage. When the diary is closed, these edge illustrations appear as visual tabs. You can flip to August by looking for the summer flower pattern on the edge, then opening directly to that month. This seemingly small feature eliminates the minutes you'd otherwise spend hunting through pages. I use these edge markers dozens of times weekly.
The slightly wavy ruled lines on each page add character without interfering with writing. They have a hand-drawn quality that makes the pages feel less institutional than perfectly straight rules would. This subtle detail reinforces that you're creating something personal, not filling out a form.
After working with hundreds of customers and using these diaries myself, the decision pattern is clear:
Choose the 5-Year Diary if you want to maintain a single book for the longest possible period and you're comfortable with brief, focused entries. If you journal primarily to track patterns over time rather than to process events in detail, the five-year span provides unmatched long-term perspective. This format works especially well for tracking specific aspects of life: food, exercise, creative work, or professional development.
Choose the 3-Year Diary if you want more writing space but still value the year-over-year comparison. This is the most versatile option. You get enough room to tell brief stories while maintaining the accountability of limited space. If you're transitioning from freeform journaling to structured practice, start here.
Choose the 3-Year Mini Diary if speed matters more than detail, or if you've struggled to maintain journaling habits. The two-line constraint makes consistency achievable. This format particularly suits people with unpredictable schedules, those who journal primarily for accountability rather than reflection, and anyone who finds blank pages intimidating.
The MD Paper handles all pen types well. Ballpoint, gel pens, and pencils work perfectly. With fountain pens, expect minimal ghosting (you can see the reverse side text faintly) but zero bleed-through unless you're using extremely wet nibs with very saturated inks. I've tested these diaries with broad and stub nibs using Pilot Iroshizuku, Sailor Manyo, and Kobe inks. Even heavy shading inks don't bleed through. The only time I've seen breakthrough was when I deliberately pressed hard with a Sharpie to test limits.
The 6mm spacing in the 5-Year Diary comfortably accommodates Japanese fine and medium fountain pen nibs. Western medium nibs fit but feel slightly cramped. The 7mm spacing in both 3-Year versions provides more room for larger Western nibs and broader writing styles.
One element requires adjustment: these diaries start on January 1st regardless of when you purchase them. So, if you buy in March 2026, you would skip to March, leaving January and February blank. Then in 2027, you can either move to the second row, or you can write on the empty first row for January and February, writing 2027 for those empty months in the provided space. I think either way works just fine.
The diaries use 366 pages (accounting for leap years) plus three appendix pages for notes.
The Tobira series succeeds because it solves the central problem of journaling: starting is easy, but continuation is hard. By putting multiple years on the same page, these diaries build momentum through comparison. Your past self becomes a companion to your present self. That ongoing conversation, more than any other feature, is what keeps you opening the book each day.
I'm now approaching the end of year three with my 5-Year Diary. I've watched this object transform from a beautiful but empty promise into a record I couldn't imagine losing. The specific format matters less than the commitment to show up daily. But the format helps. The Tobira series removes friction, provides structure without rigidity, and creates something worth keeping.
When customers ask which version to buy, I first ask: "How much time do you want to spend writing each day?" Thirty seconds? Get the Mini. Five minutes? Choose the 3-Year. The 5-Year Diary gives you the most history on one page, and you have five years to develop the practice. But in the end, the format you can sustain is the right format.