In The Konbini Ecosystem, a previous newsletter unpacking the facts, figures, history and lore of Tokyo’s convenience stores, I closed with an explanatory reflection:
This week's newsletter is laden more heavily with statistics and data points than usual. A part of me yearned only to celebrate konbini, to revel in their nocturnal glow and the experience of cruising through the city at night, navigating by their stars.
It was a romantic way to frame the unplanned drift of wandering through the city at night, with konbini (コンビニ) appearing along the route like waypoints. Ever since then, I’ve played with the idea of navigating Tokyo by konbini with greater intent. My working theory: joining the dots between konbini will unfold into a walk of serendipity in nearly any Tokyo neighbourhood.
Konbini operate predominantly under a franchise system, which I detailed in The Konbini Ecosystem, and for franchise owners, success begins with location. Even in Tokyo’s densely populated sprawl, a poorly selected spot heightens the risk of business failure. Those that endure tend to share a common trait—an excellent location. During trips to Japan, I revisit a number of convenience stores that stood in 2010 when I first moved to Tokyo and still thrive today, each benefiting from prime, strategically positioned real estate. Indeed, Japan’s inaugural 7-Eleven, which opened in 1974, still trades from a well-positioned cut-corner lot at an intersection near Toyosu Station.
When choosing a location, franchisees must weigh factors such as foot traffic, local demographics, and the density of competing stores. With konbini seemingly everywhere in Tokyo, it’s easy to assume any location will do—but behind their ubiquity lies careful strategy. Headquarters often provide commercial area analysis reports, assessing office buildings, schools, and commercial complexes alongside residential areas to determine customer potential. The most promising locations combine high visibility with a populous mix of residents, commuters, and students within a store’s trade area, typically spanning a few hundred metres to about a kilometre.
Though Tokyo has its share of obscure konbini, embedded in office buildings and alleyways, most stake out locations with the above mentioned winning characteristics. A pattern begins to take shape—where there’s a konbini, life gathers: at the station square, by the entrance to a shopping arcade, near a bridge leading to residential streets, or at a central crossroads within the neighbourhood.
Let’s take a look at Sendagaya (千駄ヶ谷), a district of Shibuya City:
Sendagaya comprises six interlocking chōme neighbourhoods, bordered by Shinjuku to the north and Harajuku and Shibuya to the south. Meiji Jingu and Yoyogi Park lie to its southwest, while Shinjuku Gyōen National Garden stretches to the northeast. While commuting through Tokyo by bicycle, I passed through Sendagaya often and was always struck by its contrasts. In parts, it is a neighbourhood of sports and cultural institutions, where green pockets open into modern expanses. In others, the streetscape tightens into a weave of level crossings, overhead cabling, and dense housing dotted with cafés. Naturally, the area abounds with konbini.
The spread here is well-balanced, though dominated by seven 7-Elevens—a clear assertion of its status as Japan’s largest konbini chain. Beyond that, four Lawsons, just two FamilyMarts, and, surprisingly, two MiniStops—rarely seen, let alone twice within a 1.175 km² area—round out the selection. A bonus NewDays sits inside Sendagaya Station.
This collection illustrates the familiar quirks of konbini placement: brands facing each other across a street, two of the same chain within a few minutes walk, and, more broadly, convenience stores seemingly wherever you turn. Sendagaya is, unquestionably, a convenient place. Without much effort, linking the stores together creates a natural walking route.
Beginning at the Hatonomori FamilyMart on Meiji-dōri, the route winds past fourteen more konbini before returning to the same main road at the Kita-Sando Ekimae Lawson. I find it hard to resist making the konbini themselves the main attraction—photographing each one, stepping inside to note their varied layouts. With meals, refreshments, and bathroom breaks all covered, the only real limit is how much konbini fare one can reasonably consume in a day.
Still, this isn’t about turning konbini into sightseeing destinations but rather following them to explore the neighbourhood at large. Adding local landmarks to the map—then stripping away the konbini—reveals a correlation.
As it turns out, the route passes by most of the area’s attractions. Along the way, we pass by the Hobo Shinjuku Norengai gourmet quarter, the National Noh Theatre and Hatonomori Hachiman Shrine. We cross the grounds of the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium and follow much of Ōdori Shotengai, the area’s central shopping street—a selection of what this route offers. By navigating via konbini, we likely encounter an area’s best-known landmarks by chance without ever deliberately seeking them out. Beyond that, it gives us a glimpse of the built-up urban pockets surrounding Yoyogi, Sendagaya, and Kita-Sando stations.
What I appreciate most about this konbini-led walk, though, is how it guides us into the backstreets southwest of the shōtengai. Here, the atmosphere subtly shifts. These streets evoke a lower-key version of Ura-Hara (裏原), the affectionate moniker for Harajuku’s backstreets, which we begin to edge towards here. Crossing Meiji-dōri on the way back up to Kita-Sando, the route continues through narrow lanes, a mix of varied residential and commercial architecture punctuated by local businesses. If you’d like to try this unconventional stroll, I’ve added the map to the Members’ area.
The pattern we’ve explored in Sendagaya is replicable across many of Tokyo’s dense districts, where tracing a path between convenience stores naturally leads to the core of each chōme, offering an authentic feel for the streets and a chance to partake in local life as it unfolds. If, like me, you find joy in wandering through quiet neighbourhoods—and if it’s true that the journey matters more than the destination—then next time you have a few spare hours in Tokyo, try charting a path by konbini, letting their neon constellations guide the way.
Until we meet in Sendagaya,
AJ
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