This audio is generated by AI, so pronunciation and expressions may not be fully accurate. The narration is only in English.
Raised in Koto City, a traditional downtown district of Tokyo, Sekimori Arisa spent her university years pursuing a dream of becoming a television announcer. She traveled across Japan—from Hokkaido to Okinawa—repeatedly sitting for broadcaster recruitment exams. No matter how many times she tried, however, an offer never came. It was during that period of uncertainty that an instructor at her announcer training school offered an unexpected suggestion: "Why not try pulling a rickshaw? Either way, it's a job about making people smile." The remark would go on to change the direction of her life.
Sekimori recalls, "Everyone around me seemed to have a compelling way of selling themselves. I felt like I had nothing and kept asking myself what I'd actually done with my time. I was at a low point when my instructor offered that piece of advice. At first, I honestly wondered whether a woman could even pull a rickshaw. But I wanted to make my dream of becoming an announcer come true more than anything. So, I chose to trust those words—and applied to a rickshaw company in Asakusa."
Being a rickshaw puller involves far more than simply pulling a vehicle. The role includes guiding passengers through the history of Asakusa, introducing local shops, and explaining proper etiquette at temples and shrines. At times, it even extends to informal conversation—listening to worries about work or offering advice on relationships. As Sekimori puts it, the job is about "creating memories that stay with people."
Sekimori says it typically takes 2-3 months of training before a puller can handle a rickshaw weighing around 90 kilograms. Success, she explains, depends less on physical strength than on learning how to use leverage effectively. With little prior experience in sports, she found the process especially challenging and recalls even damaging a rickshaw worth 1.8 million yen during training. When staff at the Asakusa location were at a loss over how to proceed, Sekimori took matters into her own hands, appealing directly to the company's president at the Himeji branch in western Japan. She then underwent an intensive month of training on site, followed by three additional months back in Asakusa—before she was finally able to pull a rickshaw on her own.
Having finally mastered the rickshaw, Sekimori soon realized that the real challenges were only beginning.
"I was trying to become an announcer, yet even when I stood in front of Kaminarimon, the famous gate at the entrance to Sensoji Temple, calling out to people, I rarely managed to get anyone to ride. It really hit me that I couldn't even communicate what made a rickshaw appealing—and that was deeply discouraging," says Sekimori.
It was then that the president of Tengashaya offered her some advice: "Take an interest in the other person. You don't need to try to take control of the conversation." From that point on, Sekimori began by simply talking with people who stopped near Kaminarimon.
By shifting her focus to how she could help the person in front of her enjoy the moment, Sekimori gradually found that conversations with customers began to come more naturally. Those countless small interactions, she reflects, have carried over into her work today as a radio DJ.
Another turning point in Sekimori's life came with her grandfather's hospitalization. Watching him listen to the radio in his hospital room, she realized she wanted work that would let her connect with people through her voice. Around that same time, Rainbow Town FM, a local station in Koto City, happened to be recruiting DJs.
The decision was initially prompted by a condition raised during her interview—that she continue working as a rickshaw puller. Sekimori herself, however, saw potential in pursuing both roles in parallel, believing that the conversational skills she had developed on the rickshaw could translate directly to radio.
She began behind the scenes as a director and, by her second year, was hosting her own program. While rickshaw pulling and radio may appear to be entirely different lines of work, for Sekimori they are connected by a shared focus on staying attentive to the person in front of her.
"When I was first given my own program, someone at the station told me, 'Don't just talk about yourself. What matters is staying close to the listener. Try putting a doll in front of you and speaking as if you're talking directly to that person.' That advice was something I recognized from my work pulling a rickshaw. With a rickshaw, it's the customer right in front of me; on the radio, it's the listener on the other side of the airwaves. In both cases, I'm thinking about how the other person can enjoy it. Whether it's a rickshaw or a radio program, I'm still speaking to you. What they have in common is the same approach—staying close to the person on the other side," Sekimori recalls.
Then, in November 2025, Sekimori found her way into the world of television she had dreamed of as a university student—though in a very different form.
"I was invited to appear on a television variety show as the manager of an Asakusa rickshaw shop and radio DJ. It made me realize that if you keep going without giving up, dreams really can come true," Sekimori recalls.
What Sekimori consistently highlights in her rickshaw tours is an Asakusa that cannot be discovered simply by walking through it. With few standing signboards, the neighborhood is home to countless "firsts" in Japanese history. As modern Japan began to take shape, many of its early innovations converged in Tokyo, and Asakusa in particular developed as a gateway for culture, entertainment, and technology.
"Pieces of history are tucked away all around the neighborhood—Kamiya Bar, Japan's first bar; Denkikan, the country's first permanent movie theater; and a monument marking the site of Ryounkaku, where Japan's first electric elevator was installed. When I share places like these with visitors from overseas, they're genuinely delighted—and that makes me happy as well," Sekimori adds.
Even Tokyo Skytree, one of the city's most familiar landmarks, has a lesser-known view that only rickshaw pullers tend to notice—the so-called "golden Skytree."
On clear days, Sekimori points out, there is a spot where the Skytree seems to emerge beside an apartment building, reflected in the gold-colored exterior of the Asahi Beer headquarters. She explains that whenever she spots it while pulling a rickshaw, she shares the view with her passengers.
For international visitors, Tengashaya encourages advance bookings via its website, phone, or Instagram, while also offering the same attentive guidance to those who arrange same-day rides in front of Kaminarimon.
Through her interactions with international visitors, Sekimori has come to notice unexpected sides of Tokyo. Despite Tokyo's image as a cutting-edge metropolis, Asakusa has preserved its old alleyways and a strong sense of human warmth. Many visitors are struck by this contrast and come to feel that it is here they glimpse Tokyo's true appeal. Each time Sekimori encounters such reactions, she is reminded that guiding people through Asakusa holds a significance that goes beyond sightseeing alone.
"Of course, I guide tours not only on sunny days but on rainy ones as well. Rain can dampen the sightseeing mood, but when you take in Asakusa by rickshaw, the streets have a beauty and atmosphere all their own. It's often when the weather is less than perfect that you encounter a different side of Tokyo. If that leaves people thinking, 'I'm glad I came to Asakusa,' that's what makes it worthwhile," she reflects.
Like Sekimori's own career, Tokyo reveals its unexpected sides and appeal through chance encounters.
Born in Koto City and raised in a traditional downtown environment, Sekimori says it was only after becoming a rickshaw puller in Asakusa that she came to rediscover the richness of that same culture extending from her own neighborhood.
As she pulls her rickshaw through the streets, Sekimori observes, shopkeepers often step out to greet her—a kind of everyday warmth unique to downtown neighborhoods. Asakusa was a place she had visited countless times since childhood, yet it was only through her work as a rickshaw puller that she began to discover sides of Asakusa she had never seen. Those moments of discovery, she adds, along with bits of local trivia that once surprised her, are now part of what she shares with her passengers.
Eight years have passed since Sekimori became a rickshaw puller. Now serving as manager, she is also responsible for hiring and training staff. Training younger pullers has been especially challenging, with some trainees wanting to quit before making their debut, leaving her discouraged. In moments like those, the company president's words became a source of support.
Sekimori recalls being reminded that teaching can sometimes come across as authoritative, but that learning through teaching only exists because there is someone to teach. In that sense, both the teacher and the learner are learning together. While she herself is still learning, she says she wants to be the one to close the distance rather than expect others to come to her, and to keep moving forward step by step.
When asked about the future, Sekimori responds without hesitation.
"Asakusa gives me energy as well, and I want to give something back, even in a small way. As a female manager, I hope to pass on the enjoyment of this work to those just stepping into the world of rickshaw pulling."
