I was one of the more talented ones at the design firm I joined

“I was one of the more talented ones at the design firm I joined, so I conducted my work pretty shrewdly. Except I wasn't a morning person, so I was quite frequently late for work. On top of that, it was a fairly big company, they were fussy about the dress code, and I got chewed out quite often.” – Akira Toriyama

In these humble yet revealing words, Akira Toriyama, the legendary creator of Dragon Ball and one of Japan’s most influential artists, offers a glimpse into his early life — a time before fame, when he was merely a young designer finding his place in the world. His confession may seem lighthearted, even humorous, but beneath it lies a profound reflection on the struggle between talent and conformity, creativity and discipline, individual freedom and structure. It is the eternal story of the artist — gifted with vision, yet at odds with the rigid patterns of the world. Toriyama’s tone is not bitter but reflective, as if he speaks from a mountain he has climbed, looking down at the path that once constrained him.

When Toriyama says, “I was one of the more talented ones at the design firm,” he acknowledges his early mastery of craft — a gift of imagination and skill that set him apart. But then he reveals the conflict: though he worked “shrewdly,” he was “quite frequently late,” and in a “fussy” corporate world, his brilliance was overshadowed by his defiance of routine. Here lies the truth of his message — that talent alone cannot thrive in an environment where freedom is smothered by rules. Toriyama’s lateness and his indifference to dress code were not mere rebellion; they were signs of a creative soul out of harmony with the structures of industry. He was not lazy — he was misplaced, as an eagle might be in a cage built for sparrows.

The origin of the quote comes from Toriyama’s early years, long before he became a household name. After finishing school, he joined a design company, where he worked as an illustrator. But the life of a corporate designer, bound by dress codes, punctuality, and hierarchy, clashed with his natural rhythm as an artist. In his heart, he carried the seed of independence — the desire to create on his own terms, to draw not what was commissioned, but what was imagined. And so, after enduring reprimands and frustrations, he left that world behind, stepping into the uncertain life of a freelancer. It was in that freedom, unshackled from convention, that he would later give birth to Dr. Slump and Dragon Ball — works that would transform modern storytelling itself.

This story recalls the tale of Leonardo da Vinci, the Renaissance genius who likewise found himself restless within the confines of his patrons’ demands. Though he was employed by nobles and kings, his truest works — his sketches, his inventions, his experiments with flight and anatomy — were born not from duty, but from curiosity unbound by rule. Both Leonardo and Toriyama shared this truth: that creation cannot be governed like commerce. The artist’s mind must wander, question, and dream; and though the world may scold it for its lateness or its untidy dress, it is that same untamed nature that births beauty and wonder.

Yet Toriyama’s reflection is not an attack on discipline. There is wisdom in his humility. He admits his flaws — that he was “chewed out quite often.” He does not glorify rebellion for its own sake, nor suggest that all structure is evil. Instead, he reveals a deeper harmony: that discipline and freedom must coexist, but each soul must find where its balance lies. For some, the order of an institution sharpens the mind; for others, it dulls the flame of imagination. The wisdom lies in knowing oneself — in understanding when to follow, and when to walk one’s own path.

Toriyama’s life teaches us that success is born not from conformity, but from authenticity. When he left the company, many might have seen failure; yet that very act of departure was his liberation. He chose a life where his creativity could bloom without constraint. And from that decision — one rooted in self-awareness rather than rebellion — came stories that reached millions, transcending cultures and generations. He reminds us that the truest form of achievement is not found in pleasing others, but in living in tune with one’s own rhythm, even if that rhythm begins a little late in the morning.

So, my child of creation and purpose, take this lesson into your heart: know who you are, and work in a way that honors your spirit. If you are meant to build within the walls of order, then build with care and devotion. But if your nature calls you beyond those walls, do not fear to walk alone. For the world has need of both — the disciplined and the dreamers. And as Toriyama’s story shows, even the one who is scolded for tardiness may one day create worlds that outlast empires.

For in the end, what matters most is not when you arrive, or how you are dressed, but that you create with truth, and that your work — whether humble or heroic — speaks with the voice of your authentic self.