Canon's Diary

Wednesday, May 21.
Last night, for the first time in two weeks, I attended a tennis lesson. Since I had left my racket in Osaka, I had to use an old one I found at home—but it turned out to be a great way to refresh myself. Tennis is a full-body sport. To swing the racket properly, you need to plant your weight firmly on the ball of your pivot foot, twist your upper body from the waist, and transfer that energy through your shoulders, elbows, and arms using centrifugal force. Maintaining a stable core is also essential. The motion is reminiscent of ballet or dance. Each joint and muscle has to move delicately. That’s why professional players’ strokes look so refined and beautiful.

In April 1987, I entered Chuo University.
The Faculty of Science and Engineering was located at the Hakusan Campus, which could be reached by getting off at Korakuen Station on the Marunouchi Line, walking through Isogawa Park in Bunkyo Ward, climbing a staircase, and then heading up a slope on Kasuga Street. The campus had a gate known as Hakumon. During the entrance ceremony, flyers for clubs and circles were handed out as you passed through it—so many that my bag was quickly filled. At the time, Tokyo Dome was still under construction. From the pedestrian bridge near Korakuen Station, you could see the changing shape of the old Korakuen Stadium, later nicknamed BOGEGG. In contrast, the liveliness of the Korakuen amusement park was slowly fading away, and for some reason, that left a slightly lonely impression on me.

I had already decided to join a tennis circle. I wanted to overcome my poor communication skills. But honestly, my vocabulary was terrible back then. After a grueling year of studying for entrance exams, during which I barely spoke at all, I had no idea how to hold a normal conversation. My mind had been consumed entirely by studying, so being expected to suddenly become talkative was a tall order.

After the festive entrance ceremony, the campus quickly settled into a more subdued atmosphere once classes began. I was extremely nervous. While others were making friends with ease, I remember going nearly two weeks without speaking to anyone. Still, I eventually managed to connect with a few classmates, and that’s how my university life started.

The school cafeteria was located in a semi-basement of Building 6, and I had lunch there every day. I still remember how delicious Set C was—it came with croquettes and teriyaki chicken.

Keeping up with the classes was tough. Looking back, I realize I had overestimated myself in choosing this university. My classmates were far quicker thinkers than I was, and they seemed to breeze through lectures. I, on the other hand, often couldn’t even grasp what the professors were talking about. Luckily, my experience from my exam prep days gave me the habit of reviewing lessons at home, and that helped me survive.

From the pile of flyers stuffed into my bag, I chose one tennis circle to join. It was called “Tennis Circle Palo Palo.” At first, I didn’t know how to pronounce it. When I asked an upperclassman, “How do you read this name?” he teased me:
“Huh? Who knows? Pau Pau? Puff Puff? Something like that?”
Later, I learned that typing “palo palo” in romaji produces “Pao Pao” which seemed to be the origin. Still, by the time I joined, everyone was pronouncing it “Paro Paro.” I must admit—it sounded kind of flashy. But I think I was drawn to that atmosphere. To be honest, I probably wanted to be popular. Yeah, no doubt about it. But allow me to make an excuse: I was also genuinely curious to explore worlds I had never experienced before.

If I could talk to my younger self, I’d say:
Take your time. Whether it’s building relationships or mastering your tennis form, it all comes together with time.

Since university life has many stories to tell, I’ll pause here for now.

Today marked the end of my bereavement leave. I resumed work remotely from home. My supervisor gave me a brief overview of the project that was handled in my absence, and I will be taking over starting with the kickoff meeting with the design department.

Suddenly being pulled back into reality after the funeral made me feel a bit rushed.
Still, I managed to finish my piled-up tasks, had dinner prepared by my wife, and took a relaxing bath. Now, I’m enjoying a quiet moment in my room, sipping a Scotch and soda.

My remote work from Tokyo ends this weekend, and I plan to return to Osaka on Saturday.

When I was younger, I believed everything could be mastered quickly. But just as it took me years to make the tennis swing feel natural, I’ve come to understand that building human relationships also takes time—little by little.