Management’s Point of View ~ What I Learned from My Parents ~

April 27, 2026

Until I was 18, I grew up with my two younger brothers in the countryside of Fukuoka, raised by our parents. When people ask why I came to America, I usually give a polished answer: "After the Soviet Union collapsed and the Berlin Wall fell, I believed the United States would emerge as the world's dominant power, and that English would become essential regardless of what career you chose." That is not entirely untrue,  but if I'm being honest, one of the biggest psychological reasons was much simpler: I wanted to get away from my parents and family as quickly as I could. 

My father graduated from high school and joined NTT's predecessor, the Nippon Telegraph and Telephone Public Corporation, doing work like climbing telephone poles and repairing telephone equipment. He was diligent in his own way, but whether he had much intellectual curiosity is another question. I remember once he picked up the copy of Yoshikawa Eiji's Romance of the Three Kingdoms that I was reading and announced he would read it too. Not long after, he put it down and declared, "Liu Bei's just going to win anyway - what's the point?" Even as a child, I couldn't help but shake my head. 

The piece of advice from my mother that has stayed with me longest is this: "Eat fast, finish the bathroom fast, and bounce your leg while you study." In other words, don't dawdle over meals, take care of your bathroom business without delay, and shake your leg while studying to sneak in some exercise at the same time. Thanks to her, my wife still says, "Are you in some kind of race?" whenever I eat; I wolf down food without even realizing it. And when I'm deep in work, I often catch myself bouncing my leg under the desk. I apologize if my working-class roots have ever gotten on anyone's nerves. 

My father drank. He rarely came home while the children were still awake, and when he did, it usually ended in an argument with my mother. As my brothers and I got into middle and high school, those arguments grew to include us — cracked ribs, holes punched in walls, shattered windows, shouting matches. Looking back now, I can only manage a wry smile. But at the time, all I could think about was finding a way out. 

Our family didn't have the means to cover the full cost of studying abroad, so starting in my third year of high school, I worked construction and day labor to save up. My parents managed to cover half, but I kept running out of money, forcing me to head back to Japan often to do the delivery company work or construction jobs. Hence it took me six years to finish university. 

For a very long time, I lived looking only at what my friends had that I didn't, carrying resentment toward my parents. 

After starting my first job, I found myself surrounded by sharp-suited businessmen, beginning my career in Manhattan and Silicon Valley. I was consumed by the desire to surpass my father's salary as quickly as possible. 

But then, on a visit home after I had started working, I saw my father heading out one morning in a thin, worn suit and faux-leather shoes. "Why doesn't he just buy a better suit?" I thought. And when I watched my mother refusing to throw away a single tissue after only one use, not wanting to waste it. Then, something clicked. I finally understood how my parents had managed to fund their children's university education. 

What they had done was simple: within the limits of what they were capable of, they gave their children the most they possibly could. Three meals on the table every day. A small house, but one where the family could feel safe. Clothes to wear. They quietly, steadily provided those ordinary things; things their children didn't even recognize as blessings. And when the time came for their children to go to university, it wasn't just steady saving; they took out student loans to make it happen. 

In an era when graduating high school and joining a semi-governmental company meant there was a ceiling on how much you could earn, my mother saw that reality and made it her mission to get me to university. Every two weeks, she would take us to the library and borrow fifteen books. Thanks to that habit, reading roughly a book a day throughout my childhood, I was able to go to university and build the foundation for the career I have today. 

No matter how hard they tried, I imagine there were many times my parents felt frustrated and heartbroken as all their children did was complain. And yet, they never stopped supporting our growth;  not until every one of us had graduated from university. 

My parents gave me the foundation to go to university and start a career. But without me realizing it, they also gave me something else: the foundation for what it means to run a company. 

"Always wish for your employees' growth, and continuously give them the best of what you have in your capabilities." 

There is no more fundamental principle for leadership than this. Whether it gets through or not, whether it is understood or not. Quietly, steadily, the job of a leader is to build the foundations of the company: so that employees can do their best work, so that clients receive better service, so that we contribute something meaningful to society. Even when you are not understood, you keep making daily effort for the sake of the people who believed in you enough to join this company. Nothing matters more to a leader than that. 

It took me a long time to realize it, but what my parents kept giving me, is the fundamental of management. And the question I ask myself is this: Can I face my work with the same depth of love that a parent brings? Can I keep making that level of effort? That, I believe, is where the true measure of a leader is found.