Reflections on My Mother's Passing: How Radical Acceptance Shaped My AI Career

On May 28, 2026, my mother passed away peacefully, surrounded by her family. She was 56 years old.

Now that the funeral is over and things have settled down, I would like to share this as a way to find closure.

First, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who sent flowers for the funeral. We received many flowers not only from those who admired my mother but also from my professional colleagues. The number of flowers represents the presence of my mother and the people who have supported me on my journey so far. I would also like to deeply thank everyone involved for adjusting schedules for speaking engagements and interviews despite the sudden notice. I will never forget your warmth.

It was undifferentiated carcinoma. We were told treatment would be difficult. By the time it was discovered, the pain had already spread deep into her pelvis and left leg. I still vividly remember the day we heard that diagnosis.

We live in the age of AI. People talk about how generative AI is changing medicine, accelerating drug discovery, and improving diagnostic accuracy. But it wasn't in time for my mother. The future of AI that I have been talking about couldn't save my own mother.

Every day, I talked about corporate AI strategies, discussed policies as a government committee member, wrote in books that AI would change society, and spoke at lectures. There was a moment when all those words felt empty.

That is why I feel compelled to write now. About how amazing my mother was.

What I Did During Her Final Moments

To be honest, I took a step back when it came to nursing care. It was my father who worked tirelessly. My aunt and grandmother came to the house almost every day. My younger brother and sister were there on the front lines, staying by her side.

The weight of my gratitude is directed more toward them. The whole family supported my mother. I wanted to write that first.

As for what I was doing, I spent that time facing the question of "Why am I the way I am today?"

Beside my mother, who spent more time sleeping due to palliative care, I thought quietly. Where did this self-centered personality come from? Who protected this individuality that doesn't conform to others? What was the foundation of this career where I speak over 300 times a year and run at the forefront of AI?

The answer always led back to my mother.

She Simply Accepted the Child Who Kept Escaping Kindergarten

Kenshin Kindergarten in Funabashi City, Chiba Prefecture, is a well-known school in the area. I am a graduate, but I have almost no memory of "attending seriously."

When I got on the kindergarten bus, I cried because I didn't want to leave my mom. Sometimes I just stayed home. During the Soran Bushi dance at the sports festival, while the whole class danced in unison, I was the only one running around the field looking for my parents.

I escaped frequently. During field trips, I walked with two girls firmly gripping my arms. In races, I didn't run toward the finish line. I ran toward my parents in the spectator stands. While everyone else finished, I was the only one running to my mother.

During dodgeball, I found it much more interesting to look for cicadas. I was a child who headed toward what I found interesting rather than doing group activities.

Even after entering elementary school, that nature didn't change. I was made to stand in the hallway almost every day. I was no different from Nobita. I was so mischievous that my teacher suggested, "Why don't you consult a care clinic?" I was incredibly self-centered and only did what I thought was interesting.

Normal parents would try to correct that. They would say, "Be like everyone else" or "Behave properly."

But my mother didn't do that.

She didn't scold me or try to force me to change; she just watched. While acknowledging that "this is just the kind of child he is," she watched over me from a distance. Looking back, I think she was like a guardrail. Instead of deciding my destination, she just stood there to make sure I didn't jump out and fall off a cliff.

In that sense of security, I grew up doing exactly as I pleased.

The Moment Individuality Became a "Weapon"

I entered high school still a problem child.

Joining the broadcasting club might have been inevitable in hindsight. I liked talking. I found it interesting to convey things. And the broadcasting club was a place where individuality became a weapon.

The theme I worked on there was "lonely deaths."

We delved into social issues ourselves, conducted interviews, and turned it into a documentary program. That work went all the way to the national competition.

That experience decisively changed something inside me. The response to sending out information. The interest in verbalizing social issues. The experience of having a unique perspective actually be evaluated positively.

From University to Now. It Wasn't Calculation; I Just Charged Ahead

In my first year of university, I worked part-time at an izakaya. I was earning over 100,000 yen a month. It was reasonably fulfilling, but I soon got bored.

So I started an internship at an IT venture. There was no deep reason. It was just because it seemed interesting. But the connections I made there pulled me into the field of AI.

That's how my current career was built.

As the editor-in-chief of AINOW, I have written over 1,500 AI articles, given over 300 lectures a year, published two books, served as a committee member for the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry (METI), and launched the first industry association in Japan specializing in AI agents.

None of it was calculated. I just charged ahead and faced what was in front of me. That's all.

Steve Jobs said, "You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards."

Looking back, escaping kindergarten, the days spent standing in the hallway, making documentaries in the broadcasting club, working late nights at the izakaya, and impulsively jumping into an IT venture—they were all connected. Beyond that was the vision of "creating a society where humans and AI coexist."

At the time, I couldn't see it at all. But now I understand. Without those dots, this vision would not have been born.

Mischievous, Yet Somehow Observing from Above

There is one thing I find strange about myself.

I am the type who is mischievous, self-centered, and moves on impulse. That is for sure. But at the same time, I have a habit of trying to look at things from both negative and positive sides. I may seem emotional, but in reality, there are moments when I look at the whole picture from a slight distance.

There is a quiet part within the noise. While charging ahead, I am calmly reading the structure somewhere.

I think now that this, too, might have been my mother's influence.

She didn't look at any situation from only one direction. Instead of dismissing a child who escapes as a "troubled child," she looked from another angle, thinking, "This child has his own reasons." Because I was raised under that gaze, I naturally began to look for both the plus and minus sides of a single event.

While saying AI will change society, I can also talk about its limitations. While being proud of my career, I can also laugh and talk about its accidental nature.

I can't help but feel that that bird's-eye perspective was something I received from my mother.

Something I Want to Write for My Mother's Honor

My mother was an amazing person.

She didn't have flashy achievements. She didn't stand on the public stage. But how difficult it is to properly raise a single human being as an "individual."

I am not an AI researcher. I don't come from a major corporation. I haven't competed based on academic background, nor have I carried the banner of an organization.

Even so, I am now moving the first industry association specializing in AI agents in Japan as the representative director of the AICX Association, participating in policy discussions as a METI committee member, and speaking at over 300 venues a year.

If this is truly something great, there is only one reason.

It's because my mother simply accepted me.

She accepted the child who escapes as "a child who escapes." She didn't give up on the child who was always made to stand in the hallway. She believed in the child who didn't do job hunting, saying, "There is such a path too." She surely accepted with a laugh the child who ran toward her instead of the goal.

She raised me without shaving off either my mischievous core or my bird's-eye view.

This career, which I carved out with only my individuality from a state with no banners, titles, or qualifications, is entirely the product of my mother's way of raising me.

I Believe Not Shaving Off These Edges is My Way of Repaying Her

My self-centeredness remains today. My individuality is the same as ever.

But I don't intend to fix it.

Shaving off these edges would be purposely doing what my mother didn't do. I feel like that would be denying her way of raising me, so I can't do it.

My father worked tirelessly. My brother and sister were by her side every day. My aunt and grandmother came to the house almost every day. With everyone's help, my mother was able to spend her final days at home.

Standing slightly outside that circle, I was thinking all along.

Why am I the way I am today? What brought me this far?

The answer was one.

I Realized the Environment Made Me

Since my mother passed away, my close friends have been checking on me every day.

A LINE message with just "Are you okay?" A friend who suddenly sends a funny video from the past. People who stay by my side without saying anything.

At that moment, I realized.

In the end, I have only grown within my environment.

There was my mother. There was my father. There were my brother and sister. There were my aunt and grandmother who came every day. There were classmates I could laugh with even while being made to stand in the hallway. There were colleagues I made documentaries with in the broadcasting club. There were people I worked with at the izakaya. There were people who connected me at my internship. And now, there are many close friends.

I act like I'm a person who carved my own path with just my self-centeredness, impulsiveness, and individuality, but in reality, I am a person who has been continuously raised by the people around me.

At the starting point of that environment was my mother.

My mother was always the first to look at my Instagram, X, Facebook, and NewsPicks programs. She didn't say much publicly. But deep in her heart, she was always rooting for me. That much was certainly conveyed.

The reason I was able to keep putting myself out there might be because I felt that gaze somewhere.

I Will Continue as This Character. With Determination.

The dots that I kept running through have connected to become the vision of "creating a society where humans and AI coexist."

If my current way of being happens to capture a part of the persona required in the AI agent era, then the individuality that doesn't blend into organizations, the ideas not bound by existing frameworks, the power to verbalize from the field, and the perspective to see things from multiple angles were all protected by my mother.

If so, continuing to polish that core is not just self-actualization. It is also for my mother's honor.

I am now in a position to discuss what skills should look like in the AI agent era. I must not only put into words that "this kind of person is needed for the times," but I must also embody it myself. I will continue to show through my actions that a person who is neither a researcher nor from a major corporation, who has carved a path with only individuality, can be at the forefront of the times.

That is my determination. With gratitude to everyone who supports me now.