Ch.6: Relentlessly Feeling Worthless

Note: This is Chapter Six, which follows the Ch.5: Strategy Office. While it can be read on its own, it’s best enjoyed in order.

*EC = acronym of e-commerce, generally online store

When the system-X era ended, the new era—the Morichicchi era—began.

All the tasks I went through with him were research. Research on market size, EC website visitors, expected revenue—the list goes on. The very first task was research on the J-League, Japan’s top soccer league, where once Andrés Iniesta, one of the greatest soccer players ever, had played.

The task was to list the lead time for each team’s online store in Excel charts. The information we needed was available on each team’s EC website and could be gathered relatively easily. It might still have been a mindless job, yet I felt more connected to the company’s actual business—not to say system-X wasn’t connected, but in terms of what I personally felt. I diligently tried to complete the work assigned to me, and when I finished, I asked him if there was anything else I could deliver. He said, “No, I’ll take care of the rest.”

I knew there were still blanks in the Excel file. Even though I knew he was capable of doing it all by himself, I didn’t feel entirely good about that. “Distrust” might be a strong word, but I sensed something similar from him toward me. Of course, I deserved that level of distrust—I was just a kid who knew nothing about Fanatics Japan. I wanted to contribute more. I wanted to feel that we were working together, that we were cooperating.

The next task was in martial arts, a field I knew nothing about. 

The purpose was business expansion to leagues or players in martial arts. My assignment was to research their potential in terms of business. The categories ranged from how many games were played annually, how many people attended each venue, to the number of visitors on each EC website.

The difficult part was researching EC website traffic. Even though there are many sites and resources that analyze website traffic, most require paid subscriptions. Some free trial options existed, but they only allowed me to search three or four websites—not enough to meet the standard.

Morichicchi gave me roughly five main tasks to complete. I did three of them; the remaining two required those paid services. I sent him what I had done and what I hadn’t via Slack. He replied, “Thank you! That really helped me,” as if the missing numbers didn’t matter at all.

His kindness and generosity toward the quality of my work amazed me. Whether I fully completed a task or not—often the latter—he always smiled and expressed genuine appreciation. He would conclude our conversations by saying he would take care of the rest.

He was truly dependable. The pressure I had felt gradually disappeared in his presence. I didn’t slack off, but I came to believe I wasn’t alone. I knew he was with me.

Meanwhile, I truly felt what Mr. Mizushima had said on the day of the Winter Cup: sometimes people feel worthless, as if they have nowhere to belong. While I felt I had a place, I also questioned my own worth. The work Morichicchi assigned me could probably be done more quickly and completely by AI. I knew my work contributed to his progress, and so did he. Yet seeing him handle the rest on his own, I wondered about my purpose. Had I contributed to the company at all? Did my work lessen Morichicchi’s burden? Was I really not worthless here? What could I do to be worthy?

These questions lingered in my mind, and Morichicchi’s gentle smile only deepened them.

One month later, he told me his internship would end soon. February 21st was the day. I still vividly remember it.

I had to get a new passport at Hibiya, about two miles from Toranomon, so I arrived at the office later than usual. Around 6:20 P.M., I sat on my familiar chair. Morichicchi emerged from the room, laptop in arm.

He told me that today’s task wouldn’t be research. “It’s a sort of lecture,” he noted.

We had only about 30 minutes. As he casually opened his laptop, he said he would teach me everything I needed to handle Excel skillfully.

One by one, he walked me through useful shortcuts, ways to combine different charts into one, and the foundational principles. Time flew by. Although the instruction overflowed my brain capacity, I felt no discomfort—only heartfelt appreciation for him and everything he had done for me.

After bidding farewell, I felt equipped, armed with tools to take on further challenges. It was reassurance that, even when facing difficulties, I could manage.

Morichicchi was my older brother, mentor, and motivator. Even now, though I don’t use Excel as much as I did with him, I still keep him in mind as a role model.

It’s time to be worthy.

I told myself, waving goodbye.

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This chapter is entirely written by Genki Kano. Any disclosed information about people appearing in this story has been generously approved for public sharing.

Stay tuned for the next chapter: What I Want to Do