When I started building AIVA, it came from pure frustration. I was sick of creating videos alone—constantly bouncing between countless editing apps. I was sick of having a “super cool idea” in my head, only to watch that spark get worn down by complicated tools until the inspiration was gone. I just wanted to build one thing: something that makes video creation as effortless as speaking.

When the first demo finally ran—and an AI-generated short script appeared on my screen—the rush of pure creation made me jump out of my chair. I did it.

But that feeling didn’t last.

A huge wave of anxiety soon swallowed me. Every day, new AI video tools launched—more powerful, more polished, backed by brighter names and bigger teams. Watching all of this, I kept thinking: If AIVA is only a video-generation tool, why does the world need me?

As a 14-year-old solo developer, I stood almost no chance in front of the giants. That day, staring at my screen, I felt a kind of confusion I’d never felt before.

I asked myself: Kimi—who is this for, really? Does the world truly need another similar AI tool?

Then one day, I clicked open a video I had generated for my neighbor’s five-year-old sister: “A Dancing Sunflower.” I had used AIVA to bring her drawing to life.

I will never forget her reaction.

Her eyes widened instantly. She pointed at the screen and shouted with excitement:

“Look! My sunflower! It’s dancing! It’s really dancing!”

That look in her eyes was like a beam of light—and it lit everything up.

In that moment, I realized I couldn’t—and didn’t need to—win on someone else’s battlefield. But I could create a new battlefield of my own. I hit the reset button without hesitation and shifted AIVA’s strategy: from a video-generation tool to a guardian of imagination.

AIVA was no longer “just another AI tool.” It became a way to protect fleeting inspiration—to protect children’s wild, limitless ideas—so that passing sparks would not be wasted. My identity changed too: from a developer buried in code to someone who safeguards childhood creativity.

That pivot completely reshaped AIVA’s mission. I stopped chasing “the best” technology and focused instead on becoming the most reliable companion for imagination. When big companies compete to build faster “cars,” I realized many kids don’t even have the “license” to drive. So I chose to build an open, frictionless “highway” for every child’s imagination—so anyone with an idea can create freely and go far.

Maybe we can’t generate the most photorealistic intergalactic war yet. But we can turn a child’s idea—“a snail racing a rocket”—into the very first short film of their life, one that never disappears.

Maybe we can’t predict exactly what future technology will look like. But we can decide what future creators look like: every person with an idea deserves to be seen.

That is the most unique—and most sincere—gift that 14-year-old me can bring to the world.

I’m sharing this story today because I believe true innovation often begins with a shift in perspective—the courage to step outside the default frame and notice the real needs that are too often overlooked.

AIVA — Turn your idea into a video in seconds.

Protect every spark that deserves to be remembered.