Lately the weather has been remarkably clear, with a gentle sunlight that makes people pause before the day begins.
During these calm days, I recently had the chance in Niigata to think about the effect of global affairs on regional healthcare —
how events far beyond our borders quietly shape the realities of local communities and the physicians who serve them.
It felt like a rare moment when the wider world and a region’s medical landscape came into view together.

When I think of Niigata, I am reminded of its delicious rice and sake.
Both are nurtured by the snow that falls in winter, held by the surrounding mountains, and slowly becomes pure water that enriches the land.
People who grow up in such a harsh natural environment develop a quiet, careful, and persistent strength.

I sensed that same “Niigata temperament” in a classmate from my student days.
Since I had only played tennis for three years in junior high school, I wasn’t particularly strong, especially in the all‑faculty tennis club, which was the most competitive one at the university.
Although, for some reason, I was quite popular there.

He, on the other hand, only began playing tennis after entering university.
We belonged to the medical tennis club at the University of Tokyo, where I served as the ace of our year, and he served as our captain.
Our roles were different, and his leadership was always steady and reliable.

Winters in snow country are severe, and heavy snowfall can disrupt transportation infrastructure.
When body temperature drops, enzyme‑based physiological functions generally decline.
Growing up in such an environment, he was known as a brilliant student from his days at Nada High School and the University of Tokyo, and he later studied at Harvard University in the United States.

Even after training as a physician in the U.S., he never slowed his pace.
He continues to work earnestly in the field of politics, carrying the quiet, unwavering strength characteristic of those raised in snowy regions.

Helping each other when someone is struggling is a spirit we learned at Nada High School.
Nada, too, is one of Japan’s great sake‑producing regions, blessed with the pure water of the Rokko mountains.
Just as good rice and mountain water create fine sake, people, too, are shaped by their environment and their companions, and their inner strength is quietly cultivated over time.

In the lives of those who come from snow country, I feel a steadfast core that continues to breathe beneath the surface.