How do ideas actually leave the paper and enter the real world? My search for an answer didn’t happen overnight. It was a journey that began with human-centered design courses at Science Tokyo, evolved during an inspiring exchange in Atlanta, and culminated on a stage at Google for Startups with Japan’s Venture Academy. Here is how I learned to turn “coursework” into action.

I joined the Spring 2024 Cohort of the Japan Venture Academy (JVA), a student-run startup fellowship supported by Shibuya City that gives university students hands-on experience in entrepreneurship. Over the course of three months, we were challenged to do exactly what founders do: ideate, prototype, iterate, and pitch. Our goal was to build solutions to real problems with real users in mind.
Design Engineering
Before I could pitch on stage, however, I had to learn the basics. My foundation was built right here at Science Tokyo, through a series of transformative courses in the Department of Transdisciplinary Science and Engineering (TSE) that redefined how I view the relationship between technology, design, and human wellbeing.
The seeds of my entrepreneurial mindset were sown during the System Design Project course. Our mission was to solve a hidden inconvenience on campus: the frustration of walking all the way to Taki Plaza B2F for self-study, only to find it occupied by an event. To fix this uncertainty, we designed an event information system integrated into alcohol sanitizer dispenser stands. It was my first deep dive into User-Centered Design (UCD). By conducting extensive campus interviews, I realized that the most ‘practical’ solutions are those that start with the user.
This philosophy of empathy followed me into the ASPIRE League Undergraduate Engineering Design Challenge, where I collaborated with peers from Tsinghua, NTU, HKUST, and KAIST. Our task was to solve a problem unique to the Japanese experience. In ‘Team Tonkotsu Ramen,’ we focused on a specific hesitation among young Japanese men: the reluctance to wear Yukata to fireworks displays (Hanabi Taikai) or summer festivals (Natsu Matsuri). Many find the traditional dressing process too difficult or feel too shy to wear it alone. To lower this barrier, we developed Daredemo Yukata (Summer Kimono for Everyone), a rental solution positioned at the festival entrance. We designed the garment to be easily worn over regular clothes, allowing anyone to join the tradition spontaneously without the hassle of changing or fear of standing out.

My academic journey then pushed me to look at the intersection of heritage and strategy. In the Traditional Technology and Intercultural Co-learning course, I explored the industrial and social contexts of Tatara steelmaking. Projects like the Tatara Steel Garden and my Tamahagane Wayang Puppets taught me the vital art of “modernizing tradition,” learning how to preserve the soul of a technology while adapting it for the modern market.

This strategic perspective was further sharpened in Thailand during the Project Management course, where we were tasked with addressing a critical issue in a developing nation. With a diverse team from China, Japan, Thailand, and Indonesia, we decided to tackle a problem that felt personal to us. We focused on the severe PM 2.5 air pollution caused by the mass burning of sugarcane in Chiang Mai. As the project manager, I moved beyond design into the realm of strategic execution, applying PCM (Project Cycle Management) and PMBOK (Project Management Body of Knowledge) principles, our team was able to win the ‘Best Presenting Group’ award and was invited to the Tokyo Tech Open Campus (now Science Tokyo Open Campus). Although this specific project remained a proposal, the experience proved to me that I have the potential to tackle complex international issues in the future.

These experiences culminated in the Engineering Design for Social Resilience program, which reinforced my belief in engineering’s role in shaping a resilient future. However, I still felt a gap between a successful course project and a living solution.

During my exchange program at the Georgia Institute of Technology in Atlanta, I had the chance to witness the InVenture Prize. Nicknamed the “American Idol for Nerds,” this Emmy Award-winning competition showcases the best of student innovation and entrepreneurship. Being part of the audience, I was inspired by the innovative spirit and entrepreneurial drive that filled the room. I was particularly moved by that year’s winner, LilyPad Health, and their at-home, non-invasive menstrual blood screening tool. As a woman, seeing an advancement in women’s health being championed on such a prestigious stage was a revelation.
But the biggest realization was simpler: I didn’t know you could do this while being an active student. These weren’t industry veterans with decades of experience. They were students just like me. It made me look around at my own community back home. I knew my friends were smart and capable, and I started to wonder why we couldn’t create something together right away.

Inspired by the energy in Atlanta, I returned to Japan with a new lens. This led me to Japan Venture Academy (JVA).

I had the privilege of working alongside two brilliant minds, Kantinant Pinjaiyos and Joanna Marie Ang. Our team, Team Fruits Baskets, built a second-hand textbook marketplace aimed at solving a problem almost every student faces: overpriced and underused textbooks. Together, we dove headfirst into the messy but exhilarating process of building a startup from scratch. Week after week, we developed our idea, refined our product, and received feedback from experienced entrepreneurs, mentors, and our amazing coach, who pushed us to think deeper and bolder. Along the way, we also received guidance from seasoned founders and JVA’s inspiring core team, including Kento Akiyama and Harshita Chivukula.

The program culminated in a Product Expo at Google for Startups in Shibuya, where we pitched our project to a panel of judges, peers, and guests from the startup ecosystem. Explaining our product on stage, answering tough questions, and seeing nods of interest felt like stepping into a different universe than the one I’m used to in academia. Yet surprisingly, the core skills weren’t so different: critical thinking, storytelling, and the ability to solve complex problems under pressure.
As a Social Media Representative for the cohort, I also helped showcase the journey of other teams through digital storytelling. It was inspiring to see how students from diverse fields such as engineering, business, design, law, and others each approached innovation in unique and thoughtful ways.

JVA finally helped me bridge the gap I felt back in the classroom. I realized that the distance between a course project and a living solution isn’t just about technical skill. It is defined by viability.
In the safe environment of a university course, a failure might only mean a lower grade. But in the startup world, I learned that failure is a daily routine. We faced the messy reality that textbooks don’t cover: the stress of finding the right co-founders who share your vision, the pressure of securing funding to keep on, and the sting of countless rejections. But those rejections were exactly what I needed. They taught me that a living solution isn’t built in a vacuum; it’s forged through feedback. Every “no” from an investor or user forced us to iterate and make our product stronger.
Every lecture, every pivot, and every late-night team call contributed to something much bigger than a pitch deck. It reshaped how I see innovation, and more importantly, how I see myself in relation to it. Whether or not we scale the app globally, we built something real. And that’s a start. If you’ve ever thought “Hey, someone should fix this,” maybe that someone is you.
Don’t wait for a ‘perfect’ time or a ‘perfect’ idea. The gap between a thought and a reality is simply the courage to begin. If there’s a problem you’re itching to solve, take the leap. You might just find that the most valuable thing you build isn’t the product itself, but the person you become in the process.
