Matsumoto Mitoshi stood in front of reporters outside the Osaka District Court, defeated. In the June 2023 case of 7-Eleven Japan v Matsumoto, Judge Yokota Masanori ruled in favour of the convenience store chain. "This is an unjust exercise of contract termination rights," Matsumoto stated to the press, referring to the court's decision that directed him to relinquish control of his 7-Eleven branch in Minamikami Kosaka, Higashi Osaka and to pay a penalty of approximately 14.5 million yen. The shop has since been barricaded, and almost two years later, a tiny prefabricated structure still sits in the car park, operated by 7-Eleven Japan as a temporary convenience store to serve the neighbourhood.
In February 2019, Matsumoto, then a 7-Eleven convenience store owner, reduced the operating hours of his branch due to apparent staffing difficulties, violating his 24-hour operation agreement without the consent of headquarters. This action led to customer complaints, which 7-Eleven used to justify contract termination. Matsumoto, however, continued to operate—a rogue convenience store, deficient in stock and staff. 7-Eleven subsequently filed a lawsuit, demanding that Matsumoto vacate the premises. In response, the ex-owner countersued, asserting that the termination of his contract was invalid. The court eventually ruled against Matsumoto because of brand damage to the convenience store corporation. Nevertheless, during two years of litigation, Matsumoto was frequently featured on television and across the internet, advocating for convenience store owners nationwide who are disadvantaged by the strict policies of their headquarters.
Across Japan, there are approximately 58,000 convenience stores—konbiniensu sutoa in Japanese, affectionately shortened to konbini. They are ingrained in daily existence. A konbini might be the only place to purchase essentials in highly rural areas without driving to the next town. In urban centres, where konbini are densely clustered, the environment is intensely competitive; 7-Eleven would be justified in its concern over reputational damage, but their decision to sue drew public attention to inequalities inherent in the konbini system, a move that harmed their brand well beyond the Minamikami Kosaka area.
The predominant growth strategy for konbini chains hinges on franchising. In this model, aspiring store owners (franchisees) enter into agreements with corporate headquarters (franchisors), securing rights to the trademark and benefiting from operational guidance and product supply in return for royalties and other additional fees. Typically, the franchisee bears the entire operational cost, including hiring and managing staff, essentially running a small enterprise within the controlled framework of the corporation. This setup often evolves into a quasi-family business with involvement from the owner's spouse and children. Matsumoto, who managed his store with his wife, exemplifies this dynamic.
Some konbini branches fall directly under the corporation's oversight, including those managed from the chain's central or regional offices. These shops fulfil multiple roles: establishing a strategic regional presence, trialling new operational innovations or products, executing specific contracts within commercial or governmental premises, and stepping in temporarily after a franchisee exits their agreement. The prefab booth now operational in the Minamikami Kosaka store's carpark is an example of the latter scenario. Despite their strategic importance, these directly managed konbini constitute only a minor portion of the total, with most expansion driven through franchisees.
At its core, Matsumoto's case revolved around the 24-hour operating system characterising konbini in Japan. The foundational narrative of 7-Eleven, and by extension, the entire convenience store model, is deeply intertwined with its hours of operation. The story begins in 1927 when John Jefferson Green, an employee of the Southland Ice Company in Dallas, expanded an ice house storefront to offer essentials such as eggs, milk, and bread. Jefferson Green's initiative received approval from one Joe Thompson, a founding director of Southland, who proceeded to open multiple stores around Dallas at ice stations. These establishments were initially named Tote'm Stores due to totem poles placed outside—a nascent yet effective branding strategy. Subsequently, Thompson acquired the Southland Ice Company, transforming it into the Southland Corporation. The corporation faced bankruptcy during the Great Depression and World War II, but in 1946, as part of post-war recovery efforts, it extended its stores' operating hours to 7 am to 11 pm—a bold move at the time. Consequently, the brand was renamed 7-Eleven to highlight this unique selling proposition.
Nearly three decades later, in Japan, the supermarket chain Itō-Yokadō entered into an area service and licence agreement with Southland Corporation through its new subsidiary, Yōku Sebun Co. Ltd, to launch the 7-Eleven franchise in the country. Meanwhile in Toyosu, a neighbourhood in Kōtō City, Tokyo, the owner of Yamamoto Shigeru Shōten, an old-school sakaya (sake shop), had fallen ill and passed the shop on to a successor. His successor, uncertain about the shop's future prospects, discovered Yōku Sebun's new franchise offering. He became franchisee number one, converting the sakaya into Japan's first 7-Eleven in 1974, marking the country's first full-scale franchised convenience store, a decisive moment of forward-thinking. 7-Eleven is now Japan's biggest konbini chain, and in 1991, Itō-Yokadō gained majority ownership of 7-Eleven in the United States and internationally.
Initially, the allure of konbini in urban settings stemmed from their ability to utilise space efficiently. In city homes, where storage is often scarce, these shops became an invaluable extension of the kitchen larder, allowing consumers to purchase daily necessities on demand. Within a year, evolving consumer preferences towards post-modern convenience began to drive the potential for 24-hour operations. In 1975, the Toramarumachi 7-Eleven in Koriyama, Fukushima Prefecture, became the first konbini to adopt 24-hour service, setting a precedent for what would follow. In the 1980s, as the number of households with both partners working and the number of single-person households increased, konbini stores adapted accordingly, now trading not only in space but also in time. In a densely populated, prosperous metropolis, where time and space are at a premium, konbini were perfectly positioned for prominence. Shops offering all-day, all-night access were especially popular, and eventually, continuous service became a standard expectation mandated by franchise agreements. Japan had ushered in a new era, illuminated by the constant glow of konbini lights.
In Tokyo, at any moment—whether 3:30 pm or am—the full spectrum of meticulously curated convenience is just a short walk away. The extensive range of services and products available will be familiar to those who have even briefly perused an online article about konbini. Let's indulge in that for a moment: the hot food counter offers items such as karaage fried chicken, nikuman pork buns, and korokke croquettes, alongside seasonal dishes like oden—a sweet umami broth loaded with ingredients such as boiled eggs, daikon. Oden's aroma fills the air of the konbini in autumn. The refrigerated section contains an array of ready meals, from Japanese-style gyūdon beef bowls and katsu curry to yōshoku western favourites like mīto sōsu and naporitan. The selection extends to cold foods featuring an impressive variety of onigiri, sandwiches, cakes and sweets. Beverages range from numerous soft drinks to teas and coffees, available hot or iced. The shelves are stocked with tobacco and a diverse array of attractively packaged alcoholic beverages, irresistible to those inclined towards intoxicants. Beyond edibles, the konbini provides stationery, magazines, toiletries, household items, and spare socks. Services on offer include paying bills, sending and receiving packages, purchasing tickets, and printing documents.
These are just a selection of the essentials that fit within the pristine, compact confines of a konbini. Coupled with 24/7 availability, it is the quintessence of convenience. The glow from roughly 8,000 konbini bathes Tokyo's alleyways, avenues, and intersections in fluorescent light, casting a constant radiance throughout the night. One might even purchase a ¥711 clear umbrella on a rainy night to fend off the downpour. Moreover, during nighttime hours, konbini fulfill a vital role that transcends consumer convenience—their continuous operation and security measures contribute significantly to enhancing public safety in surrounding areas. Additionally, satellite shops exist in locations with limited commercial viability, such as hospitals, expanding the convenience store footprint into public facilities. In a busy emergency waiting room, it might be quicker to fetch ice from the konbini to numb an injury than to wait for hospital staff to deliver it—a situation I've had to experience.
This model extends to transport hubs where a konbini is almost guaranteed. You'll find them in hotels, office complexes, and educational institutions. In locations like these, exceptions are made to the 24-hour opening policy according to the host site's closing time. However, in recent years, the sight of a konbini closed for the night out on the streets of Tokyo's 23 special wards has also become increasingly common. Matsumoto Mitoshi might be considered a konbini martyr of sorts; he lost his case and incurred punishment in the process, but his struggle prompted action: that same year, the Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry established the Convenience Store Examination Committee, specifying that not all stores need to operate 24/7. Headquarters must now oblige if an owner wishes to reduce their opening hours.
It is a positive outcome for the livelihoods of franchisees. However, I've encountered no quotations from store owners stating their desire to close early, only that they felt forced to by their predicaments. Ultimately, it feels like a loss for all parties. The idea that a widespread labour shortage is the primary cause is frequently cited—a virtually unstoppable problem relating to Japan's population decline, wherein the foreign workforce is the nation's only hope. I happened to read an Economist piece this week focusing on the Minami Azabu 1-Chōme 7-Eleven and its owner, May Zin Chit, the first person from Myanmar to own a Japanese 7-Eleven franchise. Her entire staff are also from Myanmar and, determined to match Japanese service standards, she meticulously trains her staff on the importance of the finer details of konbini operation. It is a part-time job with clout: among international students, working in a konbini holds a comparatively high status compared to some other options. You'll command the respect of your peers working in a konbini; everyone knows that your Japanese must be first rate to understand all the procedures and deliver prompt service to Japanese customers.
Since 2008, the number of foreign workers in Japan has increased, hitting the 2 million mark last year. Yet, this pace must quicken to achieve Japan's GDP growth goals, which require 4.2 million foreign workers by 2030. Presently, foreigners constitute approximately 2.5% of the population, a proportion expected to exceed 10% by 2070. However, the transformation is already evident in the konbini sector, where approximately 80,000 foreign workers comprise 9% of the workforce. In major cities like Tokyo, foreigners account for half of the staff at many 7-Eleven stores—a multicultural workforce is already a reality. The discussion about labour shortages masks another cause: according to a survey published by the Fair Trade Commission, nearly 80% of convenience stores nationwide operate at a loss during late-night hours.
The royalties that franchisees pay to their head offices are a significant portion of the store's operating costs. Rates vary based on the store's ownership structure and the extent of leased equipment, but the fees are generally high. In cases where owners are provided with their stores by headquarters, the royalty rate ranges from 56% to 76% of gross profit—far higher than the guidelines published by the International Franchise Association at 4.6% to 12.5%. Gross profit is calculated by subtracting the cost of goods sold from sales—every additional sale increases the royalty; thus, headquarters benefits from longer operating hours. On the other hand, franchisees bear the cost of wages and utilities, and during late-night hours, customer traffic decreases, potentially incurring unilateral losses.
The konbini's bright lights at night might appear to be the most energy-intensive cost. However, refrigeration and freezing equipment take that title, consuming about 32.6% of total electricity use. The average consumption of a Tokyo-based store is around 475 kWh per 24-hour cycle, a figure that fluctuates with peaks during summer and winter. To contextualise, 475 kWh could power an average Japanese household for almost two months, based on the typical monthly usage of around 270 kWh. But while there are concerns about the energy impact of keeping stores open continuously, the difference in consumption between operating all night and closing is not as great as expected, mainly because the energy-hungry refrigeration systems must keep running even when the shop is closed, and there is an excess supply of electricity from providers during nocturnal hours.
Konbini wages typically hover near the minimum wage, which over the past decade has increased from just under ¥800 to over ¥1000 per hour in Tokyo, with the average part-time konbini clerk now earning approximately ¥1040. Increasing labour costs is a problem for owners, whose available funds after royalty fees are limited, but I'd suggest wages could still be higher, given the demands put on workers. Convenience store chains emphasise creating a uniform shopping experience across all their franchises. This consistency encompasses not just the product range and availability but also the shop's atmosphere, customer service standards, cleanliness, and dress code. To achieve this uniformity, headquarters deploy a detailed system of guidelines and standards, which minimum-wage staff must carry out to the letter.
In the event of a disaster, konbini can serve as disaster relief stations or become designated public institutions through agreements with national and local governments. These commercial venues, operating with market-based wage rates, are temporarily elevated to critical infrastructure status. On March 11th, 2011, after the Great East Japan Earthquake, konbini across the Kanto region remained open day and night. They provided sustenance to the countless individuals walking home or stranded at their offices in the city. I recall the two-hour march across Tokyo from the office to my home, punctuated by konbini stops. I was amazed by the staff doing their utmost to keep the konbini running in a profoundly uncertain scenario. Their clean, well-lit stores served as small sanctuaries throughout what was a dark night in the city. The konbini worker is a multitasker and a genuine all-rounder—be sure to give them warm thanks and appreciation the next time you stop by for a midnight snack.
In response to the commotion caused by Mitoshi Matsumoto and similar grievances from other shop owners, convenience store companies have expanded financial support for 24-hour operations, demonstrating a positive attitude towards improving owner treatment. However, efforts to revise the profit distribution itself remain sparse. The practice of paying high royalties, established during the franchise industry's infancy in Japan, was seen as a form of co-prosperity but now requires amendment. The narrative of struggling franchisees, unable to keep their shops open late, sits juxtaposed with the profits posted by the corporations. Despite a retraction during the COVID-19 pandemic, the Japan Franchise Chain Association announced last year that sales for Japan's major convenience store chains in 2022 reached a record 11,177.5 billion yen, a 3.7% increase from the previous year, surpassing pre-pandemic figures.
The major convenience store chains are composed of three leaders and four comparatively smaller konbini, collectively forming seven principal brands in Japan. Of these, six operate in Tokyo. We've spoken at length about 7-Eleven, which makes up approximately 3000 of Tokyo's 8,000 or so konbini. So, let's take a look at the remaining, presented in descending size order.
FamilyMart
My description of the first 7-Eleven opened in 1974 in Toyosu was a deliberately worded translation from 7-Eleven's timeline: it was the inaugural "full-scale franchised" convenience store. However, a solid claim to the first convenience store in Japan is made by Seiyu Group, which opened a prototype store in 1973 named FamilyMart in Saitama, the prefecture bordering Tokyo immediately to the north. FamilyMart didn't open its first franchise store until 1978, in the suburbs of Funabashi, Chiba, which borders Tokyo to the east. The chain now has approximately 2,500 stores in Tokyo and 16,500 nationwide and is the most prevalent chain in Japan after 7-Eleven.
Unlike 7-Eleven, FamilyMart is an original Japanese konbini. After expanding beyond the suburbs and proliferating nationwide, it has grown across Asia, including China, Vietnam, and the Philippines. In Japan, FamilyMart absorbed several konbini chains, including Sankus, Circle K, and AM/PM, which are brands I remember from my early years in Japan. Although 7-Eleven remains the largest, I can say anecdotally that the green, blue, and white glow of FamilyMart is steadily becoming the most ubiquitous in the city, partly through assimilating and rebranding smaller chains. I also sense a preference for FamilyMart among Japan travellers and enthusiasts—during this week's social media activity around konbini, I received several comments expressing love for FamilyMart through a range of heart emojis, but no equivalent votes for 7-Eleven.
Before FamilyMart adopted its analogous colour scheme and minimalistic look, the brand featured a bold, red, sans-serif typeface with rounded features and a blocky drop shadow. Coupled with the red and orange Smile Star and Sun mascot, it embodied a playful yet straightforward aesthetic of the 1970s. Try spotting the big red sun and little orange star suspended from ceilings, on promotions, and in shop windows, as it still features occasionally. The rationale given for the rebrand was to increase awareness, which I interpret as differentiation from other chains, most of which feature red or orange. In maintaining a unique brand in a demanding marketplace like Japan's, konbini chains pursue unique products, services, and partnerships. Visually branded merchandise such as green, white, and blue socks are on display in FamilyMart, but comprehensive branding of their ilk encompasses all the senses, including taste and sound.
The chain's standout taste could well be Famichiki, a piece of fried chicken thigh made with the company's proprietary recipe. The name Famichiki blends 'family' and 'chicken', echoing the konbini's colloquial moniker, Famima. This contraction is not only quicker to pronounce but also more melodious than the full-length Famiri Matō. The chain has a generally pleasing auditory environment, becoming synonymous with one of Japan's most distinctive sonic hallmarks: the welcoming chime that plays upon entering FamilyMart stores. A small electronic machine manufactured by Panasonic, named the Melody Sign, generates this chime, specifically the model EC5227WP. The tune that plays upon entry to FamilyMart is Melody Chime No. 1 in D major, Op. 17, Great Success. It was composed by Inada Yasushi and is not exclusive to FamilyMart. Despite its strong association with the konbini chain, the jingle can be heard wherever the EC5227WP Melody Sign is installed—you could even have it in your home. However, it has become synonymous with FamilyMart, and more broadly signifying the entire konbini shopping experience. These victories of branding hint at the chains status as the people's konbini.
Lawson
Lawson, with approximately 1,700 stores in Tokyo and 14,600 nationwide, is another konbini that originated in the United States. Its story is similar to 7-Eleven's; James Lawson, a dairy farmer, began selling milk from a dairy plant in Ohio, which expanded into other daily necessities and eventually convenience stores. Lawson shops were subject to numerous acquisitions and name changes—initially known as Daily Mart in Connecticut and later as Circle K in Canada. In 1975, Daiei, another major supermarket company in Japan, followed Itō Yokadō and Seiyu by opening Lawson stores under its subsidiary, Daiei Lawson Inc., with its first shop in Osaka. A clear pattern emerges, demonstrating that the biggest konbini chains were corporate ventures of major supermarket companies from the start.
Lawson has its standout achievements and features—it was the first chain to open branches in all 47 prefectures of Japan. Lawson stores are also more diverse in their offerings with spinoff brands like Natural Lawson, a slightly upmarket store offering products like health foods not generally found at a konbini, and Lawson 100, a low-cost mini supermarket resulting from the acquisition of SHOP99, another yesteryear konbini. They also differentiate as Lawson Station in and around train stations and Lawson Port at waterfronts—encountering one of these rarer Lawsons has an enjoyable element, something akin to collectables.
The chain also presides over the Loppi system, a cute-sounding but robust network of in-store multimedia terminals, best known overseas for facilitating the jaw-dropping purchase of sumo tickets at a convenience store. Indeed, sports, concert, cinema and museum tickets can be procured through Loppi machines, but the array of other services available is extensive: enrolling in insurance schemes, booking driving lessons, using a travel agency, buying games, DVDs, and character merchandise among them. This is all possible via the internet from a smartphone, so it might not sound impressive. Still, when all Lawson stores were equipped with Loppi machines in 1998, internet usage rates in Japan were hovering below 20%. When I consider the difficulties of the elderly here in the UK, who struggle with vital services becoming a non-negotiable matter of navigating through user interfaces on small touchscreen devices, it must be helpful for Japan's elderly to have access to a system like Loppi, which has remained almost unchanged for the past 25 years. Through technological advancements, Lawson's blue and white branding features a milk can at its centre, a homage to its dairy production past.
Ministop
Ministop, with approximately 250 stores in Tokyo and 1,800 nationwide, represents one of the hidden Easter eggs of Japan's convenience store industry. Founded in 1980 by the supermarket company Aeon, Ministop was designed as a unique 'combo store' that combines fast food production with rest areas inside the konbini. Customers can sit to enjoy food and drink, or read a magazine purchased in-store. Its primary yellow, blue, and red colour scheme makes it stand out in the urban streetscape, and its house and tree logo symbolises its status as a welcoming place of respite. I'm frequently drawn to the more obscure aspects of life, from music and books to travel options—a preference that seems to carry over to konbini as well. I've always enjoyed encountering a Ministop, not necessarily because its products are superior, but perhaps because it is a little less common. The top three chains have adopted Ministop's unique selling point, with FamilyMart, for example, enhancing the concept by attempting to create a coffee shop-like atmosphere that includes powder rooms for women in select branches.
Daily Yamazaki
Daily Yamazaki, with approximately 128 stores in Tokyo and 1,300 nationwide, has resonated with me for reasons beyond its scarcity since the early stages of my Tokyo life. From the early days of my life in Tokyo, I was struck by its unique offering of freshly baked bread. The chain's owner is Yamazaki Baking Group, a prominent bread maker with a history dating back to 1948 when it opened its first bakery in Ichikawa, a slow-paced urban centre in Chiba Prefecture. Daily Yamazaki shops have a correspondingly relaxed atmosphere and a less consistent product line and layout than other chains. The chain began by converting existing bakeries and general stores to konbini, with a policy that allowed owners to continue operations in their own style. This ethos persists today, with headquarters exerting comparatively less control over its franchisees. You never quite know what you'll find at a Daily Yamazaki, so my apologies if you encounter a ramshackle branch with no freshly baked goods after reading my positive review. Headquarters also adopt a lighter approach than other chains to goods approaching expiry, allowing shops to sell them off at discounted rates. The company's character is reflected in its red and yellow branding, visually similar to FamilyMart's original 1970s branding. Yet, Yamazaki has not seen it necessary to completely rebrand, giving their stores a retro feel that evokes simpler times.
Poplar
Poplar, with approximately 40 stores in Tokyo and 260 nationwide, represents the rarest species in the konbini ecosystem. I last encountered a Poplar in Tokyo on a walk from Aoyama to Omotesandō. After crossing a footbridge over Gaien-Higashi Dōri, just south of the Aoyama Itchōme Metro station, I came upon a narrow yet deep branch of Poplar, distinguished by its red, white, and green branding, on the corner of a narrow street leading to Gaienmae metro station. Established in Hiroshima in 1976, Poplar spread from the Chūgoku Region to Kyūshū and beyond. Its stores were originally named Night Shop Poplar, reflecting a concept of nocturnal stores designed to operate after supermarkets had closed for the night. Poplar also specialised in producing bento boxes. Who, I ask, does not value the availability of a good bento box in the middle of the night?
I admire Poplar for being the only konbini to proudly display its signage in Japanese katakana characters, ポプラ, along with its logo, a leaf of the poplar tree, after which it is named. The katakana pronunciation popura also matches the pronunciation of the word 'popular'. For those prepared to venture even deeper into the obscure konbini hunt, Poplar maintains a few other brands it acquired over the years and did not uniformly convert to Poplar shops. These include Surī Eito (Three Eight), Seikatsu Saika (Life Saika), and Kurashi Hausu (Living House), the latter representing the mission's pinnacle with only one shop in Greater Tokyo, located in Ichikawa—the same Ichikawa as Yamazaki Baking. In recent years, Lawson has ominously entered into a partnership with Poplar but has not yet acquired it.
Honourable Mentions
Two further mentions are necessary. Firstly, NewDays is a railway kiosk resembling a konbini, operated by Japan Rail. Although I prefer traditional konbini to NewDays, it has more shops than Daily Yamazaki or Poplar in Tokyo. Secondly, Seicomart has no presence in Tokyo but is the largest konbini in the Hokkaido region. My travel experience in Hokkaido is limited, so I've never visited a Seicomart. However, I did watch a compelling episode of the always heartwarming NHK TV series Document 72 Hours, titled The Convenience Store in a Midwinter Hokkaido Village, about the Seicomart in the village of Shosanbetsu—the area's sole grocery shop. Customers know one another by name, staff alternate between serving at the till and shovelling snow from the entrance, a woman pushes her groceries home on a sleigh, and another says she'd probably die without the konbini. Seicomart also claims to have opened Japan's first konbini in 1971.
The dynamics within the konbini sector, as illustrated by the mergers and acquisitions described above, reflect an industry in constant flux, propelled by competition and market saturation. You may have noticed my frequent use of the term "approximately" and my hesitation in providing exact figures regarding the number of konbini. This cautious approach is due to the ever-evolving nature of konbini, where timely and precise data are seldom available. New stores continually emerge within the urban landscape. It's possible to pass your local 7-Eleven in the morning only to discover it transformed into a FamilyMart by the evening. On occasion, a konbini might shut its doors suddenly and permanently. Once a convenience store halts operations, the destiny of its premises depends on several variables, including the building's condition and its age.
According to the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry's business type classification table, convenience stores must occupy retail spaces ranging from 30 to 250 square metres. At the compact end of the scale, the interior design of a konbini epitomises efficiency, with stock rotation timing elevated to an art form, enabling even the tiniest outlets to optimise their limited storage capacity. This flexibility allows konbini to integrate seamlessly into various architectural contexts, resulting in unique spatial arrangements. Konbini can be found tucked beneath apartment buildings and zakkyo buildings, adjacent to car parks, or recessed within shopping arcades. The adaptability of konbini signage is such that merely affixing a few branded panels to the exterior of any retail space can instantly designate it as a konbini.
The most typical housing of a konbini, though, is a purpose-built, detached single-floor building constructed from lightweight reinforced concrete, designed for both simplicity in its assembly and speed in its construction. Uniform building materials used across the chain reduce costs through bulk purchases and create a consistent aesthetic. Without their distinctive branding, these buildings might be mistaken for simple glass-fronted boxes, reminiscent of prefabricated mobile homes, yet on closer inspection their design is unmistakably intended for konbini use. Upon closure, efforts to find a new tenant begin, with buildings often restored to their original condition, erasing any trace of the former convenience store. Equipment and fixtures, typically leased to franchisees to ensure uniformity, are swiftly removed and returned, stripping the interior bare. When other konbini chains take over these spaces, they frequently opt to demolish and rebuild from the ground up according to their specifications—a costly and environmentally taxing approach. However, shifts toward sustainability are emerging; for instance, Lawson recently opened a store that reused 90% of the materials from a defunct location, cutting carbon dioxide emissions by 60% compared to traditional construction methods.
Franchise agreements are typically set for 10-year terms; however, the buildings, designed with robust building codes and seismic standards in mind, tend to outlive these agreements. When a franchise term concludes without a new owner in place or intervention by a competing chain, the buildings—whether in urban or suburban areas—commonly find new life repurposed or sold. The adaptability of these structures facilitates a wide array of new uses, from restaurants and laundromats to offices. Some coin laundromat equipment is even tailored to fit the dimensions of former convenience store premises, highlighting a proactive approach to repurposing these spaces. The lifecycle of convenience stores—marked by a continuous sequence of openings, closures, and relocations for expansion—shapes the urban landscape, creating a patchwork of operational and vacated store sites across city streetscapes.
It's increasingly common to find multiple FamilyMart or 7-Eleven clones within a short walking distance from one another in densely populated urban settings, an approach known as the area-dominant strategy. Typically, this plays out on a main street flanked by a konbini on either side. Let's say the main road near your home has a Family Mart with a Lawson opposite. Your store choice might depend on which side of the street your route places you on a given day. However, the dynamic shifts when FamilyMart opens a second branch on Lawson's side, intruding into their competitor's territory and vying for dominance by leveraging dual presence to sway customer choices more effectively. Suzuki Toshifumi, the former chairman of Seven & i Holdings and the architect behind 7-Eleven's business strategy, has praised this approach for its effectiveness in raising brand awareness. Additionally, clustering stores close together streamlines operations for the corporate office by minimising delivery distances and costs. Recently, Lawson and FamilyMart demonstrated a serious commitment to cutting costs by forming a pact to share delivery logistics. This unexpected move underscores their resolve to maintain profitability, even if it means collaborating with direct competitors.
You might understandably question the logic behind the surreal spectacle of mirror image konbini facing each other across the street. The commercial rationale behind the area-dominant strategy is clear, but the questions still stands on a deeper level. According to a report by The Asahi Shimbun, the owner of a now-closed 7-Eleven in Higashi-Nihonbashi 1-chōme initiated his business in the area on the advice of headquarters. The venture soured when a nearby competitor store was converted into another 7-Eleven. The owner expressed that he was notified about the new store's opening by head office and felt obligated to comply despite his concerns. The new store led to a sharp decline in his store's daily revenue, eventually forcing the business to shut down. An official from Seven & i Holdings denied that such openings negatively impact sales at existing stores. However, this strategy appears counterproductive when stores in busy areas like Higashi-Nihonbashi 1-chōme face closure due to internal competition. From the corporation's perspective, multiple branches are a mode of competition with rival chains. However, for the franchisees on the ground, an adjacent konbini bearing the same logo is equally threatening.
The konbini ecosystem has undergone significant shifts since the 2000s. The top three have widened their lead, now commanding most of the market. As we explored earlier, Ministop, Daily Yamazaki, and Poplar add a delightful variety to the mix, yet their presence is trifling compared to the giants. The list of smaller konbini already absorbed into mergers and acquisitions reflects a gradual loss of diversity. Beyond the scope of konbini, this expansion has increasingly impinged on the territory traditionally occupied by local businesses such as greengrocers, stationery stores, and cafés, each suffering from the broadening range of products offered by konbini. The loss of biodiversity weakens the functionality and efficiency of ecosystems, thereby compromising nature's capacity to sustain a healthy environment. These natural rhythms are mirrored in the city and the urban ecology of the konbini.
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. Rest assured, this is still a reality in Tokyo—a pleasure I plan to continue indulging in, albeit with a moment of reflection for the future as I pop open a cold Orion beer and unwrap a mentaiko onigiri. In recent years, I've developed an intuitive unease about the state of konbini, and a detailed examination of the extensive data available has confirmed these concerns, necessitating a slightly less buoyant newsletter. The next frontier appears to be unstaffed konbini, enabled by self-checkouts and an intricate network of sensors and AI-enhanced cameras that monitor every conceivable angle. Given what we know of loneliness in relation to the unstaffed coin laundromat, it is slightly unsettling. The chains are heavily investing in this technology, with FamilyMart leading the movement by opening an unstaffed shop in the fittingly impersonal Sapia Tower in Marunouchi, near Tokyo Station. And yet, despite the technological advancements, it is not open 24 hours. Just wait until Matsumoto Mitoshi hears about this.
Until we meet in the seating area of a 24-hour Ministop at night,
AJ