2523 Respecting Individual Strengths: Reflections on Eiji’s Path to Music and Achievement

 

A proud moment as my son’s band Mecha Bijin wins the Senko Riot Grand Prix — proof that passion and persistence lead to success. 

https://www.tfm.co.jp/lock/riot/

It has been almost a month since I last updated this blog — I was caught up in work and daily matters. Today, however, I want to dedicate this entry to my younger son, Eiji, and share his remarkable milestone.

On August 7th, his music group Mecha Bijin won the Senko Riot Grand Prix, a nationwide music competition for teenagers with more than 3,000 participating bands. To become the champion among such fierce competition is truly an extraordinary accomplishment. Eiji is the drummer of the group, a passion he has pursued since junior high school.

Our two sons have always taken very different paths.

• My elder son, Kansai, graduated from a prestigious preparatory junior high school, studied abroad in India at the age of 17, and is now immersed in liberal arts studies in Akita, living out his ideal student life.

• Eiji, on the other hand, decided early on to become a musician, leaving conventional schooling behind to attend a music academy.

I must admit, there were times when Eiji struggled, especially when comparing himself to his brother’s more traditional achievements. Yet what makes me proud today is not only his award, but the fact that he found his own career path and is realizing his dream on his own terms.

Behind this success lies an incredible amount of effort: countless hours of daily practice (sometimes more than 14 hours), supported by the professional electronic drum set we provided. He even gave up all his anime goods — once his favorite — to dedicate himself fully to drumming. Through his academy, his skills sharpened, his network expanded, and although he was never the most sociable, he never hesitated when it came to pursuing what he loves.

This achievement reaffirms my belief that a person’s true ability and results are maximized when they pursue their own strengths and passions. It may sometimes look like a detour, but respecting one’s unique preferences is, in my view, the surest path to success and happiness.

One regret remains: on that very day, August 7th, I was at my flat in Osaka and could not attend the event in person. Perhaps my biggest blunder of 2025… but even so, my pride in Eiji’s achievement is immeasurable.

2522 Why Do Our Customers Really Come to Our Shisha Bar?

 

July is always a tricky month for us. It’s the periodical test season at universities in Kyoto, and that means our usual flow of student customers slows down.

Our shisha bar, Zerobase, is located in Demachiyanagi, right in the heart of Kyoto’s university area. We’re surrounded by major schools—Kyoto University, Doshisha University, Ritsumeikan University. Many of our regulars are students, especially those from Kyoto University, since the Commodity Faculty is just across the street.

But during exam season? They vanish into the libraries. And unfortunately, this month’s revenue fell below average.

Our store manager, Kenji, came to me for advice:

“How can we minimize the impact this month?”

He proposed a simple idea—a short-term student discount during the exam period.

As usual, I told him:

“If you believe it’ll work, go ahead. It’s your call on how to turn things around.”

But something kept me thinking. I remember that I recently re-read a book that I love, “Competing Against Luck” by Clayton Christensen, which introduces the Jobs to Be Done framework.

So I asked Kenji a simple but powerful question:

“Why do our customers really come to our shisha café?
Is it because the price is cheap?
Because the flavors are unique?
Because you’re handsome?
Or maybe because our drip coffee is special?”

He went silent.

So I gave him a summer task: read the book and summarize it in a simple report.

A week later, he called me back. Instead of going for a discount campaign, he suggested something different:

“Let’s hold a collaboration event with a fortune teller. Lowering prices won’t necessarily bring more customers, and it could even have a negative effect on how other customers perceive our value.”

His idea wasn’t exactly what I expected, but I agreed with his decision. More importantly, I was happy to see him thinking beyond just price.

What I really wanted him to discover was this:

Which “customer jobs” can our shisha café truly solve?

This little episode might be the trigger for Kenji to start prioritizing the Jobs to Be Done mindset in his marketing decisions. And for me, that’s already a step in the right direction.

2521 Still Exploring My Style as a Consultant

 

It has been six months since I began working as a consultant. I often find myself wondering—am I truly qualified to call myself one?

The term consultant implies someone who provides valuable advice to clients. This advice is often expected to be specific, actionable, and result-oriented. In many cases, the clearer the recommended actions and the more measurable the outcomes, the better.

But what if that’s not my strongest suit?

If the ideal consultant is someone who gives sharp, one-way directions toward a defined result, then maybe I’m not that kind of consultant. I tend to value individual autonomy over issuing rigid instructions. In this blog, I often speak about concepts like effortlessness, reframing, and the power of autonomy—all of which suggest that there is rarely a single "right" way to do things. Instead, there are countless unique paths shaped by individual strengths and perspectives.

For example, I may see the most direct route from A to B. But someone else, using their own strengths, might find it more effective to go from A through C to B. That’s not a mistake—it’s their way, and in many cases, it might even be better.

This belief doesn’t just shape how I work with clients—it also shapes how I manage my team. Whether I’m acting as a consultant or as a manager, I try to create an environment where people can tap into their own capabilities, think for themselves, and discover the most effective approach for them. I don’t want to impose my judgment if there’s room to encourage theirs.

Of course, in real business situations, there isn't always time to explore all the possibilities. When time, budget, and resources are limited, we often default to top-down decision-making. In such cases, a single action must be taken quickly—and sometimes, that's necessary. But whenever time allows, I resist the urge to give one-way advice. I aim to hold space for dialogue and discovery.

So yes, I am still exploring what it means to be a unique and professional consultant. But I know what I aim for: to deliver value and satisfaction to both my clients and my team, by maximizing their individual strengths, not by replacing their judgment with mine.

Maybe that’s not traditional. But maybe that’s exactly the kind of consultant—and manager—I’m meant to be.

2520 “Done Is Better Than Perfect” – Why 70% Is Enough to Start

 

Mark Zuckerberg of Facebook famously said, “Done is better than perfect.”
It’s a powerful mindset shift—especially in Japan, where many young professionals hesitate to share their work unless they feel it’s flawless.

I’ve written about this before, but now that it's June, I feel the need to revisit the idea. Many new employees who joined companies in April are likely struggling with the same issue my team member Kenji recently faced.

The concept is what I call “70%ism.”
In short: Don’t aim for 100% perfection from the beginning. Aim for 70% completeness. Why? Because that’s often good enough to start meaningful discussions, receive feedback, and move forward efficiently. And most importantly, it avoids unnecessary delays caused by chasing perfection.

When experienced professionals prepare a slide deck or a concept note, 70% completeness can often be achieved in 2–3 hours—even for heavy topics. On the other hand, pushing from 70% to 90% or more usually requires double or even triple the time. That extra effort upfront isn’t always justified, especially if the direction might change after feedback.

A few weeks ago, I asked Kenji, a new graduate who joined in April, to explore business ideas outside of our current shisha bar operations. I asked him to summarize a business flow that our IT team could use to begin prototyping a new service.

I expected something rough within a week. But three weeks passed, and nothing came.
Kenji was stuck—he felt he couldn’t present his idea unless it was polished and complete. To him, even producing something 70% done felt like showing 90% of his full effort—and he wasn’t confident enough yet.

So I gave him a new target:
“Forget 70%. Just give me 40%. Spend no more than two hours. Don’t overthink it—just get the idea out.”

He looked a bit embarrassed, but smiled. Two days later, he submitted a few memos and gave a verbal explanation. It wasn’t fancy—but it was clear enough. And our IT staff immediately understood the direction and got started.

If you’re managing new graduates, you might face a similar situation. Perfectionism holds people back—especially when they’re just beginning. For first assignments, I actually recommend aiming for “40%ism.” It encourages early output, builds confidence, and prevents the paralysis that comes from trying to be perfect.

Perfection can wait.
Progress starts with action—even if it's only 40% complete.

2519 Looking Back to Look Forward: A Reflection Inspired by Life Shift

Since relocating to Osaka, my days have been packed with launching a new business in Kyoto, stepping into a new consulting role, and occasionally indulging in my weekend hobby—motorcycling. In the midst of all this, I realized I had stopped making time to read. But this weekend, I reminded myself: without reflection and learning, there is no growth. So I picked a book off my shelf—Life Shift by Lynda Gratton.

This global bestseller had been recommended to me many times, and I now understand why. Among its many insights, one passage in particular struck me like a message written directly to my present self:

"I want to turn time upside down and ask you this question—not how your 20-year-old self would view who you are now, but how your 70-, 80-, or even 100-year-old self would reflect on the decisions you’re making today. Will the choices you're about to make stand up to the judgment of your future self?"

It’s easy—too easy—for us humans to forget why we made certain decisions at pivotal moments in life. I’ve found myself recently, as I have many times before, wondering: Was this the right move? Should I have stayed in my comfortable, stable role instead of choosing change?

This quote brought me back to the decision I made last summer. I knew I could continue in my previous role and enjoy a stable life and well-balanced routine. But I asked myself: What actions must I take now to live the life I want to look back on with pride 20 or 30 years from now?

Life Shift reminded me of that moment, and why I chose the more uncertain path. It wasn’t about immediate comfort—it was about investing in my future self.

Reading this book again became more than just a weekend habit; it became a reaffirmation of my commitment to a multi-stage life. It reminded me that growth isn’t always comfortable, but it’s always worth it when it aligns with your long-term vision.

So here I am, back on track, embracing the shift.

2518: Before You Submit That Entry Sheet—Do You Really Understand the Industry Hierarchy?

 

Through my shisha business in Kyoto, I’ve had the opportunity to meet many college students—future members of the workforce. As I’ve gotten to know them, one recurring topic has come up: how to choose the right company after graduation.

Some of them have even asked me for advice during their job-hunting journey. Interviews are happening. Offers are being considered. And a question I hear over and over again is:
“Does my choice make sense?”

What I’ve observed is that most of them are focused on short-term benefits—monthly income, allowances, and employee perks. Honestly, that’s natural. Many of us made our own first career decisions the same way. Few of us thought seriously about our long-term careers when we were 22. But what I want to highlight today is not about salary or benefits.

What Most Candidates Miss: Understanding the Industry Hierarchy

Here’s what’s been bothering me:
Very few students seem to understand where their potential employer stands in the industry structure.

When I ask them, “Do you know your future company’s buyers and sellers?” or “What position does this company occupy within the value chain?”—I usually get blank stares.

Let me give you a simple example.
In the car industry, it’s easy to imagine the hierarchy: manufacturers, parts suppliers, dealerships, service companies, raw material providers, etc. But if you take a company name in another industry, students often don’t have the framework to evaluate where it sits in the ecosystem.

This matters. A company’s role in the supply chain gives you clues about your potential responsibilities, career growth, and the kind of impact you’ll have.

Even within publicly listed companies, there’s a wide gap between being at the core of innovation and being a bulk commodity supplier. I’m not saying one is better than the other—every role is important. But students should know what they’re signing up for. The problem is, most don’t. Instead, they focus on brand recognition, number of employees, or surface-level corporate image.

Just check out any recent ranking of popular companies among graduates—you’ll see what I mean.

If you’re navigating the job-hunting season—or watching your child do so—I’d love to support you. Don’t just dance with the crowd. Let’s take a step back and think seriously about what kind of career you’re really building.

Career Fit Consulting??

I welcome your asking to help students (and their parents) find companies that truly align with their interests, strengths, and long-term goals.

2517 Losing Sight of the Goal: A Lesson from My Shisha Business

We often miss our goals when outcomes deviate from expectations. In those moments, it's tempting to reach for quick fixes—like patching a deep wound with a band-aid. But these stopgap measures rarely work. They fail because they don’t address the root causes, and more often than not, they lack a foundation in fact-based analysis.

Take my own experience with our shisha business. We’ve been hovering at the break-even point, so I asked our store manager, Kenji, for ideas on how to pivot toward stable profitability. Kenji, aware that our current status doesn’t inspire confidence among stakeholders, proposed a couple of ideas.

One was to partner with local companies and offer shisha sessions as part of their employee benefits—essentially a B2B approach to build a stable income base. The other was to provide consulting services for café operators.

Honestly, both suggestions made me uncomfortable. While creative, they felt misaligned with our original goal: to grow a high-quality shisha and café business. Especially the consulting idea—it’s simply too early. We’re still refining our own operations; it’s premature to advise others. He had a few other proposals as well, but none were grounded in the core objective we set for this fiscal year.

I shared my concerns with Kenji and reminded him of the balanced scorecard we created last month. I didn’t have to say much—Kenji is a sharp and capable team member. He immediately realized his proposals had strayed from the KPIs and strategic direction we had agreed upon. This is precisely why setting clear KPIs and aligning them with our mission, vision, and values (MVV) is so important. They serve as our compass.

I also encouraged him to revisit the business books I had previously recommended. He agreed, even saying he would purchase and read them. That small act reflects the kind of shared learning culture we’re trying to build.

This episode illustrates how easy it is to drift from your original purpose—to fall into what I call “the cliff.” We forget our golden rules, lose our direction, and end up reacting instead of acting. But having a well-defined MVV, clear goals, and measurable KPIs keeps us anchored.

I’m now reflecting on how to truly turn our business around, not through detours, but by returning to the fundamentals we committed to at the beginning of this fiscal year.

2516: Respecting One’s Will—A Leadership Decision Beyond Performance

In my leadership journey, I’ve come to deeply value people who are genuinely interested in their current roles. Passion often drives performance more than skill alone. I recently faced a situation that reminded me of this truth—one that wasn’t easy, but necessary.

One of our key project members, originally assigned from another region, had been highly praised by our client. His knowledge perfectly matched the project's needs, and there was no doubt in my mind that he could stay until the very end. I was even preparing to recommend him for a higher position.

However, after working with him for a couple of months, I started to notice subtle changes. Although his performance remained stable, something felt off. It was as if he was holding back—he wasn’t fully engaged or performing to the best of his abilities. There was a quiet discomfort in his attitude, a lack of focus that I couldn't ignore.

So, I decided to address it directly in a one-on-one meeting. I told him frankly, "You always seem one step ahead of the team, and at times, it feels like you're detached from us." He denied it, but when I asked if he truly wanted to stay, his answer was telling: “It depends on you. If needed, I can stay.” He eventually admitted that his true desire was to return to his home country.

I explained my core belief—when there's a gap between one’s desires and their assigned role, performance inevitably suffers. I suggested that he demobilize from the project and pursue a path more aligned with his goals. As a professional, he initially resisted. “I can still fulfill the role,” he insisted. But I stood firm. I told him that I respected his capabilities deeply, and for that very reason, I believed he deserved a position where he could thrive with both mind and motivation aligned.

He was surprised—maybe even shaken—by my decision. Yet, he accepted it. Later, he repeatedly confirmed the demobilization schedule and asked me not to change my mind. He confided in others that the decision wasn’t in line with his personal wishes. But I explained once again: career alignment matters more than short-term assignments. When there's a mismatch between role and desire, the result is rarely productive—for the individual or the team.

I reflected on a similar experience I had years ago while working for an EPC contractor. I was assigned to a project I had no passion for. Though I fulfilled my duties, I was unmotivated, uninspired, and far from innovative. It taught me that performance without purpose is a hollow shell. When passion and role align, that’s when people shine.

As I revisit that memory, I’m confident in my decision. I believe that in his home country, doing what he truly wants, he will be more engaged, more innovative, and much more fulfilled.

That is the kind of professional I want to support.

2515: Standing at the Crossroads of Experience and Renewal

I’m 49 years old—part of what’s often referred to in Japan as the “Lost Generation.” We graduated during a time when job opportunities were scarce, in the late '90s to early 2000s. It wasn’t an easy start, and many of us carry that experience with quiet resilience.

Now, as I prepare to enter my 50s, I can no longer ignore the question: How should I approach the second half of my professional and personal life?

We live in what is now called the "100-Year Life" era. The traditional notion of retiring at 60 is becoming outdated. Instead, we should aim to stay active, curious, and engaged for as long as possible. Just a year ago, I declared to my friends and colleagues that I wanted to work until the end of my life. But recently, I’ve found myself taking a step back from that bold statement—not because I’ve lost the will, but because I sometimes wonder if my knowledge and skills are still relevant in today’s business world.

Perhaps I’m standing at the edge of the business frontlines, now occupied by a new generation. Still, being in this position has given me the stimulation to reawaken. I’ve realized that I’m not done yet. My sword is still sharp—I just need to keep learning and stay in shape for the battles ahead.

Our generation is unique. We witnessed the world before and after the digital transformation. When we started working, Windows 95 had just been released, and email over dial-up connections was becoming the norm. We’ve experienced both the analog and digital eras, and that positions us as potential bridges between the legacy work culture and the present.

To everyone from my generation: I want to cheer you on. We’re not obsolete. We can still be essential contributors to the future of business and the economy. Let’s start by learning something new—just a small step. Let’s climb a different hill than the one we’re used to. Our knowledge isn’t outdated; it’s a foundation that can evolve and blend with the new.

The journey isn’t over. In fact, it might just be entering its most meaningful phase.

2514 Breaking Through Bottlenecks: A Lesson in Teamwork and Timing

I recently started my new role at Turner & Townsend. As with any transition, I’ve been thinking carefully about how best to restructure the team. Fortunately, I was prepared for this kind of situation, so it hasn’t been too overwhelming—but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t weigh on my mind.

Right now, I find myself needing to make a lot of decisions to resolve the backlog of pending tasks. One particular task had been sitting unresolved for quite some time. According to my team, it had stalled because no one had the specific expertise needed to move it forward. A staff member was assigned to it anyway, but after two weeks, there was little to no progress. This has become one of my main concerns—not just because the task remains undone, but because I’m unsure whether that person will be able to demonstrate leadership until the right process is firmly in place.

Then came a turning point.

One Friday morning, a new team member, Okada-san, joined me in the office. He’s a scheduling specialist and formerly worked at one of the top three plant engineering companies—just like me. Because of our shared background, we were able to quickly build trust. In Tuckman's model of team development, we moved past the storming phase almost effortlessly and are now in the norming phase, working together smoothly.

That morning, we casually chatted about the pending task. I asked, “Why are we still assigning this to the same person? Shouldn’t we be exploring more suitable candidates within our network?”

Okada-san replied, “Yes, I’ve been thinking the same. I actually know someone who might be a better fit.”

That short conversation was the catalyst. After coordinating with Talent Acquisition, we agreed to begin exploring candidates with more specialized skills. At the same time, I plan to assign the current staff member to a different role—one that better suits their strengths. This creates a win-win outcome for everyone involved.

Reflecting on this, I realized something powerful: if Okada-san hadn’t joined Turner & Townsend, or if we hadn’t happened to be in the office together that morning, the decision might not have happened at all. It was a perfect example of how small coincidences and internal networking can lead to big changes. Often, we think of networking as something external—but internal relationships with colleagues, family, and stakeholders are just as important.

This episode didn’t require any extra paperwork or formal analysis—it simply happened through trust, timing, and conversation. It helped me break through a serious bottleneck in a surprisingly effortless way.

Maybe you’re facing a similar issue. Perhaps this story will inspire you to take that small step—a chat, a question, a moment of reflection. You never know what breakthroughs might be waiting on the other side.

2513: Teal Organizations: Exploring the Next Stage of Organizational Consciousness

 

In Reinventing Organizations: A Guide to Creating Organizations Inspired by the Next Stage of Human Consciousness by Frederic Laloux, the concept of Teal organizations is introduced, offering a vision of how businesses could evolve in alignment with human consciousness. I’m currently leading a project with colleagues who each bring unique expertise to the table. As I work closely with them in the coming weeks, I’m increasingly impressed by the potential of our team to operate as a Teal organization—one that transcends the traditional "Green" organizational model.

While I won’t delve into the specifics of Laloux’s book in this post (I highly recommend it to my followers), it outlines five evolutionary stages of organizations: Red → Amber → Orange → Green → Teal. These stages represent the increasing sophistication and efficiency of businesses as they evolve.

• Red represents a chaotic, power-driven organization where survival is the main priority.
• Amber is structured and stable, often found in traditional organizations like government offices, which are slow to adapt and change.
• Orange focuses on achieving efficiency and results, typically seen in large, global conglomerates.
• Green prioritizes a values-driven culture and decentralized decision-making.
• Teal represents the pinnacle of human-conscious organizations, where self-management, wholeness, and a sense of evolutionary purpose are embraced.

In my career, aside from my first job, I’ve mostly been part of Orange-type organizations, focused on efficiency and performance metrics. When I first read Laloux’s book during my MBA program three years ago, I was struck by the idea of the Teal organization. It seemed like the ideal organizational model. However, I quickly realized that it’s difficult to apply Teal principles in many business contexts. Teal organizations challenge traditional business KPIs, decision-making processes, and hierarchies. These disruptions can be uncomfortable for individuals who are used to climbing the corporate ladder through patience and perseverance within conventional systems.

Now, working with my new team, many of whom possess unique and distinguished skills, I feel that we have a genuine opportunity to embody the Teal model. It’s an exciting feeling to be part of a team that could truly operate in a self-managing and holistic way. As the director, I recognize my role in fostering a culture of wholeness and self-management within the team. One approach I’m exploring is coaching methods, which I’m still refining to see how they can enhance the team’s motivation and outcomes.

Why am I reflecting on Teal organizations now? During a one-on-one meeting with a colleague last week, he expressed his support for Teal-type organizations, which resonated deeply with me. It sparked a renewed interest in the book and the concepts it presents. While I initially thought of Teal organizations as an ideal for U.S.-based companies, I’m now convinced that it can be applied here in Japan as well. This has become a mission for me within this project: to fully understand and implement the ideas from Reinventing Organizations.

I look forward to continuing this discussion with my colleagues in our next one-on-one meeting. During that conversation, I plan to recommend another book that has influenced my thinking on motivation: Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us by Daniel Pink.

2512 Embracing a New Era at Turner & Townsend

 

In February, I embarked on an exciting new chapter in my career by joining Turner & Townsend. This move marks a significant milestone, offering an opportunity to broaden my professional landscape and leverage my extensive experience in project management.

As I navigate my initial phase at the company, I'm eager to share some initial observations and reflections that serve as my starting grid at Turner & Townsend.

Insights from the Field

From my early days here, I've learned that while there's a strong demand for project management functions to drive capital expenditures (CAPEX) in Japan, many companies traditionally manage these initiatives in-house. Despite this, several factors have shaped the current landscape:

1. Historical Decline in CAPEX: Over the last three decades, Japan has seen a decrease in CAPEX opportunities. This downturn is a reflection of broader economic trends and shifts in industrial focus.

2. Reduced Need for Dedicated CAPEX Functions: Due to the prolonged period of minimal capital investment, many companies have scaled back or entirely dissolved their dedicated CAPEX functions and resources.

3. Impact of the "Lost Generation": The economic downturn during the late '90s, particularly from 1997 to 2000, led to reduced hiring. This period coincided with what is often referred to as the "Lost Generation." As a result, there is now a noticeable gap in the capabilities of middle to upper management, predominantly aged between 45 to 55, who missed out on critical early career development opportunities during these challenging years.

Unique Position and Future Outlook

My colleagues have noted that my specialization in plant-based business projects adds a unique dimension to the team at Turner & Townsend. While I might be considered a specialist within a niche area, it's a role that I am both proud of and excited about.

As I continue on this new voyage, I am reminded of Spencer Johnson’s Who Moved My Cheese?—an allegory about change and adaptation. Like the characters in Johnson's book, I am on a quest to find my new "cheese," embracing change and pursuing new opportunities.

2511 The Thunderbaird and the Passing of Time

 

Time is an indispensable part of life, and lately, I’ve been reflecting deeply on how quickly it passes. This thought often takes me to the bustling city of Osaka, where I’m currently living, near Shin-Osaka station. It’s a place I’ve come to know through my daily walks and commutes. One thing that stands out is the Thunderbird Express train—a local service in JR West connecting Osaka to Tsuruga (Toyama Prefecture). Though I’ve never personally ridden it, it reminds me of my elder son, now 22 years old.

When he was young, around 2 or 3 years old, his favorite hobby was playing with his Thunderbird train set. I can still hear him mimicking the sound of the train’s announcement: “Express train Thunderbird, ready for start!” He would repeat this over and over, delighting in the sounds of his imagination. At the time, I was in my early 30s, deeply immersed in my work and traveling overseas almost every month for business. I was hardly at home—maybe 10-20% of the time.

Now, living near Shin-Osaka, I frequently see the Thunderbird stationed at the platform during my walks. I had always known about the train’s service area, but seeing it up close, again and again, has brought a certain sense of regret. I can’t help but think: Why didn’t I take him on the Thunderbird when I had the chance?

The distance between Tokyo and Shin-Osaka is only about 2.5 hours by bullet train. Was it time? Money? Or perhaps my own selfish desire for private time, for golfing, drinking, and other distractions? I regret not seizing that opportunity when I had the chance. I had weekends, I had the time, and yet I failed to share something as simple yet meaningful as a train ride with my son.

This experience, I believe, can resonate with young parents today. It’s a reminder of how time is often discounted in our busy lives. When your child is excited about something, that moment is precious and fleeting. I missed out on that time—time that I can never get back.

But rather than dwell on regret, I’ve decided to do something about it. The next time my son visits me in Osaka, I want to offer him the chance to take a ride on the Thunderbird. Even if he doesn’t remember the exact moments from his childhood, I want him to know that I regret not sharing that experience with him earlier—and I want to make up for it.

I plan to bring up this story over dinner one evening. It may be a simple conversation, but I believe it will be a warm and meaningful one. A chance to share not just the experience of the Thunderbird, but the importance of taking time for the people we love, and learning from the moments we’ve missed.

Time passes quickly, but it’s never too late to make the most of it.