On July 1, 2026, Professor Furusawa and I found ourselves in Paris. We had been invited to a dinner at the official residence of the Japanese Ambassador to France.
The guest of honor, of course, was Professor Furusawa. He had invited me to tag along while we were knocking back drinks at a famous sake spot in Tokyo, to which I gladly replied, "With pleasure."

An authority on optical quantum computing and the city of Paris—not exactly a natural pairing.
The night before, we had grabbed Vietnamese food in the city. The truth is, he isn't exactly a Francophile or a Paris enthusiast, and neither am I. (We've reached that level of friendship where we can be brutally honest about things like this.)
Whatever the reason, the vibe just doesn't quite match. Plus, the man is incredibly busy; he doesn't just casually hop on a flight to Paris.

The real reason he made the trip this time was Hideo Suzuki, the Japanese Ambassador.
Ambassador Suzuki was Professor Furusawa's junior in the University of Tokyo ski club, and they have been friends for forty years. Moreover, when Ambassador Suzuki was serving as the Japanese Ambassador to the Czech Republic, Professor Furusawa flew over numerous times to help promote quantum physics there. Out of deep gratitude for those efforts, Ambassador Suzuki invited him to this dinner in Paris.

People usually picture geniuses as dry and aloof. I've always felt that the brilliant types tend to march to the beat of their own drum, often acting as if the world revolves around them.
Professor Furusawa, however, is a completely different story. He is remarkably open with everyone and never turns down a request. Whether in his university lab or at OptQC, he is always surrounded by people, casually sitting down for lunch with young researchers.
It is precisely because of this personality that our relationship deepened, and why Ambassador Suzuki wanted to invite him to dinner the moment he took up his new post.

The lineup of guests that evening was so extraordinary that I felt a bit guilty being there as a complete outsider.
There was Philippe Grangier, a heavyweight in French quantum physics specializing in quantum cryptography.
Nicolas Treps, a leading figure in quantum optics and a professor at Pierre and Marie Curie University.
Julien Laurat, a professor at Sorbonne University and an expert in quantum optics and quantum networks, who, like Professor Furusawa, was mentored by Professor Kimble at Caltech.
And Hervé Martin, Head of the Mathematics, Physics, Nanosciences and ICT Department at the French Ministry of Higher Education and Research.
Every one of them is a brilliant mind in the French quantum physics scene.

The dinner began at 7:00 p.m. at the Ambassador's residence. Paris still retained its bright, daytime feel.
As we walked up from the open entrance lobby to the second floor, a space exuding a distinctly Japanese atmosphere spread out before us. With sparkling sake or champagne in hand, all the attendees renewed old friendships with Professor Furusawa.

He exchanged words passionately with each person, and the French guests responded with a mix of familiarity and deep respect.
Never intimidated, yet never putting on airs, regardless of who he was talking to or where he was. That effortless, natural demeanor was classic Akira Furusawa.
As for me, I intended to just exchange pleasantries and remain strictly an observer.

The gathering kicked off with a speech by Ambassador Suzuki. The meal, centered around Japanese ingredients, was exquisite, and the carefully selected sake and wine were magnificent.
Add to that the lively exchange of ideas between the guests and Professor Furusawa, and you had a genuine chemical reaction of intellect between French and Japanese quantum physicists.

In the midst of this, one of the attendees inevitably asked why a novelist was among them. Professor Furusawa introduced my book, Tangle. He explained how I had cold-called him for an interview, and because he played along, a novel was born featuring a character acting as his alter ego. He spoke passionately about how our deep interaction continued from then on, eventually becoming the driving force behind his establishment of OptQC.
Then, naturally, the spotlight turned to me.

"What is your next work?"

I explained in my broken English (though Ambassador Suzuki graciously handled most of the translating) that I was doing research for a new installment in the Hagetaka series to coincide with this trip to France.
Then they asked me:

"Will Akira be in it too?"

At this unexpected question, Professor Furusawa, completely unfazed, just kept eating. But I could practically hear his silent plea, so I replied, "I'm sure he will be."
Voices were raised saying that the novel featuring Akira should be translated and that they definitely wanted to read it. I answered that I would love to make that happen. After that brief moment of excitement, they dove right back into lively discussions about their specialized fields.

After the dinner wrapped up, Professor Furusawa and I headed to a café on the Champs-Élysées for a second round—this time, beer.
"Of all places, I never imagined we'd be drinking beer together on the Champs-Élysées," he said.
"I was just thinking the same thing," I laughed. "But honestly, wherever we meet, we always end up talking, completely oblivious to our surroundings, don't we?"

Hearing that he was moving on to his next destination in Northern Europe early the next morning, I couldn't help but marvel at his sheer toughness. At the same time, I was amazed at myself for ending up in Paris—all starting from a single cold-call email requesting an interview. It made me truly reflect on the importance of cherishing life's encounters.
I realized that Professor Furusawa's tireless efforts have pushed me forward, giving me the energy to take on countless new challenges.

They say that as you reach a certain age, you start to feel your limits, and that learning to accept things and settle down becomes important. Sometimes I think that might be true for me as well. But meeting and talking with Professor Furusawa, and witnessing his energetic drive and passion, I don't feel any sense of dissonance—in fact, it makes me genuinely happy. And I realize that to others, I probably look exactly the same way.

I quietly wished that this strange connection would continue to inspire both of us to challenge what no one else can achieve, as the Parisian night deepened.