At our atelier, around 200 craftspeople of all ages work side by side—each with a different background, but all sharing the same dedication to true artisanal craft. Some bring decades of experience and mentor the next generation, while others contribute fresh perspectives and new ideas.

Every bag we make passes through their hands; our Tsuchiya Kaban family.
Today, we’d like you to meet one of them; manager Yusuke Kadoi, who has been with us for eight years.

I was a soccer kid, but I also loved working with my hands. I was good at home economics class, where we learned to sew things like drawstring bags and aprons—and influenced by my grandfather, who lived with us, I also joined the school cooking club. My grandfather was from a generation that grew up being told, "men shouldn't be in the kitchen;" but he was a great cook. I was enamored by the way he could whip up something delicious with his own hands. I especially loved the fluffy pancakes and steamed buns he would make for me as a snack when I came home from school.

This naturally led me to enjoy cooking, and after graduating college, I got a chef's license and worked in a restaurant. But once I reached my mid-twenties, I started to wonder if this was really what I wanted to do—and that was when I came across a job ad as a craftsperson at Tsuchiya Kaban.

I had wanted to learn some kind of trade, and because I am not a particularly social person, I didn’t like working in bustling environments. I thought of a craftsperson as someone who quietly works alone, so I figured it could be a good fit for me.

I still remember my first day working here. When I entered the workshop, there was a particular liveliness in the air, which surprised me. Many Randoseru were lined up, and everyone was quietly focusing on their work—but at the same time, I could also sense a kind of passion within the quietness.

But what made the biggest impression on me that day was actually the industrial sewing machine used to sew the Randoseru. I had always loved machines, but its powerful sound was like nothing I had ever heard of before, and it thrilled me. I was also captivated by the craftspeople, moving their hands gracefully as they sewed their pieces. At the time, I was a complete novice—I didn’t even realize the sewing machine was the true star among the many roles in bag-making—so I blurted out, “I want to do that!” When I was told that mastering the large-scale sewing machines would take at least three years, I thought, “Alright, then. I’ll give it three years.”

My first role at Tsuchiya Kaban was making the Randoseru, where I learned essential bag-making techniques—hammering the leather, gluing pieces, and machine sewing—all taught by senior craftspeople. I wanted to master the sewing machine quickly, so for the first two years, I practiced before and after work. At first, even sewing a straight line was difficult—seams wavy, corners punctured, and pressure uncertain. Mistakes were frequent, but I kept learning.

Even as I improved, I kept the machine at its lowest speed. Then a senior told me, “That won’t do. Turn it up and just go for it.” I realized sewing steadily at a faster pace gave cleaner, more efficient results. Until then, I had been tense whenever I touched a machine. Looking back, I see that “go for it” was their way of encouraging me.

Even now, after eight years, machine-sewing is the step that demands my fullest focus. That’s partly because once you puncture a piece of leather, there’s no turning back—but it’s also because the pieces I sew are near the final stages of the bag. By then, many hands have already worked on it: one craftsperson has cut the large hide into smaller parts, another has skived it, and yet another has handled the gluing. Each piece I sew is the culmination of all that work, so mistakes aren’t really an option. Of course, everyone makes them sometimes, but I always tell myself: “No mistakes today!”

Three years ago, I was put in charge of manufacturing our larger bags, and today I lead that team. My responsibilities include test-making new products to ensure the designs work for our production line, as well as creating schedules and allocating resources to meet deadlines.

Now that I’m in a leadership role, my ambition as a craftsman—to create high-quality products as efficiently as possible—has never been stronger. How can we improve productivity? How can we allocate tasks to shorten production time? These questions guide my daily work. I don’t try to solve everything on my own; I often seek input from my juniors, valuing their perspectives and asking for their help when needed.

As I mentioned before, before joining Tsuchiya Kaban, I preferred to work quietly on my own and wasn’t the type to communicate proactively. But now, I’m a leader, which is incredible—and I’ve learned that there are things you can only achieve as a team. 1+1 isn’t always 2—it can be 3, or even 4 when everyone works together. By collaborating toward the same goal, we not only improve efficiency but also reveal strengths we might not expect. Some days, we accomplish so much that I can’t help but think, “This is the power of teamwork,” and it fills me with genuine happiness.

I’m still learning as a craftsperson, but the small accomplishments I stack up each day bring me great joy. I’m grateful for the many customers who treasure the bags we make for years, and it genuinely makes me happy to be part of a team that creates such cherished pieces.

If I were to envision the type of craftsman I hope to become, it would be “someone not bound by convention, who can embrace new ideas.” There are many essential techniques in craftsmanship that should be preserved, but I also believe it’s important not to cling too tightly to old ways and to remain open to innovation.

In that sense, I have deep respect for our chairman and founder, Kunio Tsuchiya. If manufacturing were a tree, the thick trunk remains steadfast while the branches and leaves adapt to the company’s growth and the times. This is how he built the Randoseru legacy, piece by piece—and even a single piece of advice from him carries a lot of weight. I still have so much to learn to get to his level, but he motivates me to keep working towards a point of real mastery.