💡 Hi, I’m Duc, a 4th year student at the Institute of Science Tokyo.
Welcome to Episode 1 of “Serve Ball, Pick Up Ball: What Three Years of Showing Up Taught Me.”
17 May 2022 | Pixels Turn to Pavement
On May 17, 2022, my long-delayed plan finally stepped off the screen and onto the pavement. Until then, Japan had only existed inside my phone—sakura threads on Twitter, dorm snapshots on Instagram, and endless PDFs from the university.
Immigration stamped my passport, and just like that, it became real. The air smelled like seaweed-salt chips and freshly waxed floors—a strange but oddly comforting welcome.
It was a day of many firsts:
My first time abroad.
My first sushi.
My first day of doing everything on my own.
The first time I tried to make friends in a language I barely spoke.
| “I missed everything.”
I arrived on a Tuesday. The next morning—Wednesday—the university volleyball club held its weekly practice. I woke up still half-dreaming, not yet fully realizing I was no longer in Vietnam.
When I finally set foot on campus that day, it felt surreal. COVID had delayed everything, and for the longest time, I had just been waiting. I had missed the entrance ceremony, missed the sakura season, missed the club fairs.
I remember sitting at home, scrolling through Instagram and Twitter (back when it was still called Twitter), just wishing I could be there.
So many things had changed during COVID. The unexpected became the norm. It was almost strange when something actually went as planned.
I know it’s easy to forget now, but those years were hard—especially for international students. Ironically, it was during that quiet, lonely time that I decided to study abroad. If not for the lockdown, I might’ve stayed in Vietnam. But being stuck at home, talking to more people online than in real life, I began to wonder what life was like outside.
And then I saw a photo.
A senior from Vietnam, Dũng (“Bryan” to his classmates), was hiking in Okutama*. I ended up scrolling through his profile and sending him a message. That’s how I learned about Science Tokyo. And that’s also when I decided to take a shot—or in volleyball terms, a serve.
And somehow, that serve got me here.
* A mountain area two hours west of Tokyo
| “Wait, why did I contact the volleyball club two months before I even landed?”
From the moment I discovered Science Tokyo, I wanted to learn everything about it—not just the academics, but the everyday life, the people, and the energy. I spent hours exploring the university’s website, trying to imagine what it would be like to belong there. I clicked through every club, every circle, every activity—but my hands stopped the moment I found the volleyball club. I read everything; the club page, the social media accounts, even YouTube videos.
During the long months of preparing for the entrance exam, it became one of the few things that kept me going. It was more than just a sport—it was motivation, direction, something to hold onto. When I finally received my acceptance letter, even though my departure was still six months away, I already felt so close. So close that I couldn’t sit still.
At the time, I didn’t even know when my visa would be issued. The borders looked like they might reopen, but nothing was certain. I remember refreshing immigration updates every few hours, hoping for good news.
And… I contacted the volleyball club before I even arrived.
Why? Honestly, I just couldn’t wait. Looking back, it’s kind of hilarious. I didn’t even know if I could enter the country, and there I was—translating every sentence with Google Translate, and then rereading it ten times over to make sure it sounded polite enough, and I sent the message to the volley ball club.
|From Curiosity to Culture
Maybe it sounds cliché, but anime and manga were a big part of my childhood. Naruto, One Piece, Ghibli… and eventually, Haikyuu.
Volleyball was popular in my hometown, but study, not sports, was how I preferred spending my time. Not until I met Haikyuu. Ever since then, coming to Japan and playing volleyball has been a dream of mine.
As an international student, you will often get asked: why Japan? There are plenty of reasons: great education, generous scholarships, the food (which honestly deserves its own category), and simple curiosity. Some students come for adventure. Others sort of stumble into it.
For me, it started with anime and manga. It might sound small, but at 18, that was the spark that nudged me toward a country, a culture, a university. That was what motivated me to start piecing things together: researching schools, departments, majors.
At that age, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life. But I think that’s exactly why I kept going. That uncertainty—that curiosity—was what pushed me forward.
Looking back, my interest in Japan started with Japanese culture. It quietly threaded itself into my everyday life, long before I ever set foot here. From Doraemon to Pokémon, from Spirited Away by Hayao Miyazaki to Your Name by Makoto Shinkai, and from Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami to Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata—the list goes on forever. These weren’t just stories; they were windows. Through those windows, I sensed a different way of seeing the world—one that valued care over speed, process over outcome, and beauty in the smallest of details. These creative works, put together by artists, writers and producers, somehow captured my heart and shaped how I see the world. And once that kind of inspiration plants itself in you, it doesn’t stay still—it grows. It pushes you to dig deeper, to look beyond the page or the screen—and in my case, to buy a one-way ticket and find out for myself.
| That childhood fascination eventually found its way into my academic life, too.
I was honored to present my research on the global influence of Japanese anime and manga at the Liberal Arts Final Report Presentation 2025, having been selected based on an awarded paper exploring the cultural evolution of Japanese yōkai (supernatural spirits).
| First Practice: Chaos and Kindness
Alright, enough backstory—I promised you a story about volleyball, didn’t I? Here’s what really happened on the day one. My first practice was on May 18, and I was excited. I had already read everything I could find about the volleyball club online. I expected it would be all Japanese students, and it was. I had gotten the impression (after crawling through websites, Instagram, Twitter) that international student participation in most sports clubs was rare, especially at a STEM university (science, technology, engineering, mathematics), so my presence was likely to be unexpected for the volleyball club as well. That’s okay, I told myself. Things might get awkward, and that’s okay, too.
Checklist complete: shoes, laptop, textbooks, student card, time, place—all good.
……Except practice clothes.
I realized this only when Captain Hashimoto asked me to change
……Panic!
I stood there frozen, not knowing what to say. But Captain Hashimoto casually double-checked my size, sprinted away for a moment, then came back with a spare set of clothes. Three minutes in, the club had already taught me something about generosity.
| “Itʼs like Haikyuu, but real.ˮ
Then came practice. It was just another weekday for them, but to me, it felt like stepping into Haikyuu.
The shouts in Japanese. The rhythm. The drills. The way everything moved in sync. Voices echoed through the court, and I understood none of them… Players rotated between drills like they were on autopilot. So I did what anyone would do: monkey see, monkey do.
Halfway through practice, I realized something: the ball doesn’t care about grammar. If it’s up, keep it up. If it’s down, pick it up. That’s it. Two hours flew by like that—filled with instructions I couldn’t parse and skills I couldn’t match—and somehow, I loved it.
| “I think I just joined the club…?ˮ
After practice, I stayed behind. I didn’t understand the post-practice meeting, but I knew I wanted to join.
I found Captain Hashimoto and (probably) butchered my Japanese trying to ask politely if I could join. I might’ve accidentally said something like “I will definitely join the club”, which sounds… very confident. 😅
He clapped once, said something I half-understood, and suddenly the whole team turned and applauded me. I nodded, pretending I knew what had just happened.
“…Did I just… join?”
Apparently, yes. Five minutes later, Captain Hashimoto was showing me the clubroom.
But wait—no tryout? No test? No coach interview?
I thought there’d be some kind of selection. That’s how it worked at my university in Vietnam—you had to pass a skill test. These players were clearly strong, as well. I didn’t think they’d accept beginners, and I was a beginner. If anything, my random past experience had just given me bad habits.
But somehow… I got in, and made my first friends in Japan.
That’s it for Episode 1.
Next up: sweat, sunburn, and mou ippon! —an inside look at summer camp, where the gym hits 35 °C but spirits run even hotter. Stay tuned for Episode 2!
