My Life Accompanied by Tears

“In a sense, I could say that my life has been accompanied by tears.” So reflects Aya Komaki, President of Sanrio Entertainment. Having transitioned from a housewife to a business executive, she steered the then-ailing company back to profitability in just two years. In the last fiscal year, she led the company to record-high profits. Yet her success was set against a sorrowful backdrop. She lost her beloved son at the age of thirty-four. In her forties, she battled with breast cancer and uterine diseases in succession. How has Aya Komaki faced this ebb and flow of joy and sorrow to cultivate such a rich and fruitful life?

——Mrs. Komaki, I understand that your company has achieved record-high results in the previous fiscal year under your leadership.

Mrs. Komaki: Last year proved to be a year of remarkable momentum. Our flagship character, Hello Kitty, celebrated her 50th anniversary, the COVID-19 pandemic ended, and Japan saw a surge in international visitors. Both of our theme parks, Sanrio Puroland in Tama, Tokyo, and Sanrio Character Park: Harmonyland in Hiji, Oita, performed well. Thanks to everyone’s support, we achieved record sales of approximately 16.5 billion yen and operating profit of approximately 2.9 billion yen for the fiscal year ending March 2025. This marks our fourth consecutive year of growth with increased revenue and profits, significantly surpassing our previous highs.
　Last year we unveiled our mid-term management plan, centered on a growth strategy. We believe that people are the most important factor for growing our theme parks. While our two parks are under the same corporate umbrella, they were separate organizations that operated in silos. We have established a system with a central headquarters to allow staff to move between parks, which has enhanced everyone’s knowledge and skills.
　When I was assigned the position in 2014, the company was always in the red. The first goal was simply to stop the losses and survive. And thanks to the collective effort of our team, we’ve been operating in the black, since the 2016 fiscal year. For instance, Puroland recorded 1.46 million visitors in 2018. 　Although this dropped drastically to about 450,000 during the COVID-19 pandemic, we have recovered year by year, reaching a record-high of approximately 1.5 million visitors the last fiscal year.

——To my knowledge, Sanrio Puroland will be celebrating its thirty-fifth anniversary this December, correct?

Mrs. Komaki: Correct. I think our theme parks possess very distinctive characteristics. Our appeal does not lie in breathtaking thrills or in large facilities, as one might find elsewhere. Instead, we provide a place of comfort and healing. We are guided by the philosophy of our founder, Shintaro Tsuji, “Getting Along Together.” We have remained unwavering in our commitment to this vision, crafting every service and experience not for mere excitement, but to foster a sense of gentleness.
　Two years ago, we conducted a company-wide survey, asking “What is our worldview?” Some pointed to our characters and others said it was the atmosphere of our structures. While there are many different paths to the answer, they all lead to the same sentiment. We distilled this collective feeling into a single phrase: “Leave no one alone.” This is the culture that forms our worldview; we never give up on a single smile, and we gently offer companionship.
　In a world fractured by conflicts, we continue to share our motto of “Getting Along Together” through entertainment. In our currently running parade, Miracle Gift Parade, which ends on the seventeenth of November, there's a line that says, “Kawaii (cuteness), nakayoku (friendship), and omoiyari (compassion). Please cherish these three hearts.” This is the conviction that drives our work to spread these values worldwide.

——This feature is about shedding tears, and I was surprised to read in your book that you wept after attending Sanrio's company information session.

Mrs. Komaki: That's right (laughs). Originally, I wasn't particularly fond of Sanrio’s characters, but I was attracted to the company's philosophy and atmosphere as described in their newsletter Ichigo Shimbun. That’s what prompted me to attend their information session.
At that session, they showed a film they had made called Chirin’s Bell, based on an original story by Takashi Yanase. The message about what is love and what it means to live struck me with such force that I found myself unable to stop crying.
　However, my desire to join was so strong that I actually gave up once. I felt like I loved Sanrio too much to approach it. So, I set my sights on other companies, but as fate would have it, I was rejected in the final round of interviews (laughs). Just then, Sanrio announced a second hiring round. I reconsidered and decided to take the chance so that I would have no regrets. Fortunately, I was accepted and joined the company in 1983. So, my life at Sanrio truly began with tears.

——What was it like when you actually joined the company of your dreams?

Mrs. Komaki: After joining, I worked as a sales clerk in a company-managed store that sold character merchandise, which was exactly what I had hoped for. We called the small children who visited the store as our “friends,” and they would clutch their pocket money and agonize over what to buy—“Which pencil should I choose?” or “I want a calendar too.” Their thoughtful expressions were incredibly endearing. The sales staff were instructed that they didn’t need to make a purchase; they were welcome to just visit and play. So, we never rushed them and enjoyed talking with them. The memories I made with those little friends during that time are something I still cherish.
　After a year and a half of such rewarding frontline experience, I left the company when I got married which was quite normal then. Also, I had no career aspirations at all, so I was happy being a housewife and mother.

Mrs. Komaki: I joined the company of my dreams, found work I enjoyed, married at twenty-five, gave birth to my eldest son at twenty-nine, and followed by my second at thirty-two. There was a period when we stayed in America due to my husband's work, and although there were certainly small conflicts and setbacks, my life must have looked very glamorous and perfectly smooth from the outside. That's exactly why I could never have imagined that one day I would suddenly lose one of my children.

——If I may, what happened to your beloved son?

Mrs. Komaki: I'll never forget it. My second son was taken from us in a freak accident shortly after he turned two. I was thirty-four years old. At the time, we were preparing for my eldest’s elementary school entrance exams, and I was pregnant with our third child. I had terrible morning sickness and was physically and mentally exhausted. After we lost our second son, my husband and I ended up divorcing some time after our third child was born. Our grief and suffering were so intense that we both felt a need to escape from that environment.
　In the midst of my overwhelming guilt and emptiness for not being able to protect my child, I became restless. I needed to get out into society to find a different place for myself. That desperation drove me to search for a job.
　With my mother helping with the housework and caring for my two other children, I started working as a cosmetics salesperson. By nature, I am diligent and intensely curious, so I obtained qualification after qualification. I even performed well enough to receive awards, and felt a sense of fulfillment. However, the environment was also fiercely competitive, with many facing their own circumstances, and I had some painful experiences that tested me. Between parenting, working, and studying, I pushed myself to the point of utter exhaustion that my health faltered. At one point, my condition was so critical that I hovered between life and death.

——How old were you then?

Mrs. Komaki: I was forty-one. I worked without proper meals or sleep, always taking medicine for the constant headaches I had. I was even crawling to the bathroom at one point. Even then, I thought I lacked perseverance. It's frightening, isn't it? When I went to the hospital, my platelet count had dropped to dangerous levels. They called my family, and I was hospitalized for three weeks. It was then that I truly saw the Sanzu River, a river that serves as the boundary between this world and the next according to Japanese Buddhism. I saw that river in my dreams not once, but three times.
　My late son was calling for me from the other side of the river. Yet, I clearly remember that when I had the same dream for the third time, I consciously thought “I absolutely must not cross over to the other side.” I forced myself to come back. Immediately after, the hospital served breaded pork cutlet. Until then, I hadn’t been able to eat anything, but I knew I had to eat. The moment I managed to chew that first small bite, tears came streaming down. I thought, “I must live. If I throw my life away so recklessly, the other two children will be sad.”
From that very instant, every cell in my body chose life, and I gradually recovered.

——That's an intense experience...

Mrs. Komaki: In retrospect, I now know the importance of health because of that experience. After I had the opportunity to return to the Sanrio Group, this experience also led me to launch an internal venture focused on supporting the advancement of women in the workplace.

Mrs. Komaki: However, as I was developing that corporate venture, I faced my next trial: breast cancer. I was also diagnosed with uterine fibroids and endometriosis. Within a few years, I had surgery for a complete mastectomy and a hysterectomy. It felt like I had experienced all the pain of being a woman.

——You really did experience a cascade of adversity.

Mrs. Komaki: Yet, because of my experiences, I’ve learned to be grateful for life. If I'm still allowed to live, I want to use my experience to help everyone realize that, despite the vicissitudes of life, one can still be grateful to be able to still draw breath. Driven by these feelings, I became involved with an NPO that supports raising children and a campaign to raise awareness for the prevention of cervical cancer in addition to my corporate venture in my late forties.
　When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I felt a cloud of anxiety, wondering if I was going to die. By the time I was diagnosed with a uterine illness, I was already committed to life. I interpreted this second illness as a message from the heavens, telling me that I had to first intimately understand pain before helping others. With that perspective, I steeled my resolve and faced the surgery.

——So, you were able to view this positively as an experience you had to go through with.

Mrs. Komaki: Yes. However, it took a little more time before I could properly come to terms with my son's death. One turning point was learning about the world of coaching.
　Coaching is a communication method that uses thoughtful questions to draw out what a person wants to do. In the three and a half years I spent studying it, I constantly directed those questions to myself as well. Many negative events can be reframed as a learning experience to be grateful for. However, I couldn’t reframe my child’s death in such a way.
　But through repeated self-dialogue, I found seeds of gratitude even though he lived only two years. If I ask myself if it would have been better if he hadn't been born, the answer was a resounding no. I chose to be grateful not for the loss, but for the fact that he was here with me, however briefly. The moment I saw that shift, I saw how I could move forward.

——You found a glimmer of thanks amidst tears of sorrow.

Mrs. Komaki: The other turning point was studying dialogical self-theory, the psychology of listening to one's inner voice, at graduate school. Wanting to understand matters of the heart more in-depth, I impetuously challenged the University of Tokyo graduate school entrance exam at fifty-one, and after a bout of intense studying while working, where I had only three hours of sleep, I was accepted. When I found my examinee number among the successful candidates, I cried openly without caring for who saw me. For two years, I immersed myself in the library devouring papers and visiting school to deepen my understanding.
　It was around that time, I first read a book I still treasure today, Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's The Wheel of Life. Its opening lines resonate deeply with me:
“Adversity only makes you stronger. When you learn your lessons, the pain goes away.”
　There is another passage that also rings true for me:
“When life puts you through a tumbler, it’s your choice whether you come out polished or crushed.”
　I believe that everything depends on oneself just like this passage states.
　And then there is the prayer of American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
　It is exceedingly moving. Accurately judging what can and cannot be changed and having the courage to fearlessly reform what should be changed is a teaching that applies not only to an individual’s life but also to corporate activities. As a manager, it's a guiding principle for me.

——Please tell us the secret of how you brought back Sanrio Puroland from the brink.

Mrs. Komaki: I'm often introduced as the key figure behind our recovery, but the truth is, I didn’t pull everyone up from a higher position. Instead, I worked from the bottom by communicating with each person and supporting them so they could fully demonstrate their abilities.
　At that time, Puroland's performance was struggling. I had brought my eldest son there when it first opened, and I remembered it as a wonderful place, so I was curious when its reputation had declined. Wanting to know why, I went back three times.
　I watched the shows, observed the sales floor, and noted the staff's movements. It became clear that there were certainly some serious problems. Even as an amateur, I could see certain areas where improvements could be made. I compiled my finds into a letter to the founder. I sent it with the intention of being encouraging, writing “Puroland will be fine. There's still plenty of room for growth.” To my surprise, his response was, “It might be good if you, as a woman, took on the challenge. Would you like to give it a try?”

——That’s an unexpected proposal.

Mrs. Komaki: It was, and I was torn. I knew nothing about the entertainment industry and had no relevant experience. But I thought maybe I could cheer everyone up. My hesitation proved that I wasn’t completely opposed to the proposal. There was some part of me that wanted to try, so I thought I should accept the challenge and give it a go. That was the deciding factor. Thus, I accepted the offer without much confidence nor with a promise to make it profitable, but rather started with a motherly desire to care for everyone. This was the year after I completed graduate school.

——What did you tackle first?

Mrs. Komaki: Persistent losses meant we couldn't invest. We were in a dire situation, forced to cut costs to an extreme extent, so there was a gloomy atmosphere. People didn't talk much and only did what they were assigned.
　Drawing on my background in coaching and psychology, I started by listening to each staff member. In these conversations, I asked five questions. I asked about their origins with, “Why did you join this company in the first place?” I uncovered their motivation with, “Why did you stay even during the hard times?” I sought hope with, “What has been your happiest or most enjoyable moment here?” I identified strengths with, “What part of your work are you most proud to show our guests?” And I gathered ideas with, “What do you believe Puroland needs to improve in the future?”
　Their answers revealed that everyone had surprisingly passionate thoughts, ideas, and love for the company. Even employees who lamented on the situation were deeply invested in the company’s wellbeing in their own way.
　Now, there were days I went home crying from the pain, but there were also days I went home crying from joy. I was moved by everyone's motivation and absolutely wanted to make their aspirations a reality. That became my conviction.

——In other words, the staff’s spirit inspired you.

Mrs. Komaki: Yes. I couldn't create attractive shows, nor did I have a decisive business strategy. Instead, I focused on fostering a belief within the team that they could change and that they were capable of doing great things. From there, we gradually gave form to the thoughts and ideas they had kept in their hearts. Our recovery was built on the accumulation of their passion.
　One example was the women's restroom for employees. It was marred by graffiti, and the mirrors and tiles were broken. I decided to have everything repaired. This one act became a big event, sending a message to everyone that our company can change. If the backstage areas aren’t well-maintained, you can't serve customers with a smile.
　We also improved the service we provided. No matter how cute the character goods or how wonderful the shows are, it can all be ruined by a staff member's poor choice of words. I knew that training once a month or once a week wouldn’t be enough to create lasting change. I thought it was important to do meet daily even if briefly, so we instituted a fifteen-minute morning meeting that was held twelve times per day to ensure every staff on shift could participate in one.

——Twelve fifteen-minute morning meetings per day?

Mrs. Komaki: At first, there were some resistances with some saying, “If we have the time, we'd rather restock the shelves,” or “Will such meetings increase sales?” Yet, I persuaded them to try this as an experiment for half a year. I also enlisted an instructor I knew to come daily to teach proper etiquette when engaging with customers.
　We started to see results in less than half a year. The company atmosphere visibly improved, business partners commented on the change that we had become brighter and saw more smiles. Online reviews, which had previously only mentioned our characters and attractions, started praising how the warmth of our staff. I was overjoyed, and when an employee rushed to tell me the news, I was so moved by their enthusiasm that I cried.
　After about a year, staff themselves took the next step, saying, “We need to do these morning assemblies ourselves.” Since then, employees from each department have taken turns organizing and leading the daily morning sessions, and taking on the role of an instructor. They came up with creative approaches to improve skills, practiced phrases in English and Chinese, and held quiz competitions on our characters.

——They really did take complete ownership approach.

Mrs. Komaki: Also, to improve communication within the company, we introduced what we call Dialogue Festivals, where staff members who don't usually interact much could introduce themselves and chat about simple things. By increasing opportunities for mutual communication across departmental, age, and gender boundaries, we fostered a sense of unity within the company, and productivity has naturally improved.
　These efforts, in conjunction with various other initiatives, including social media outreach, turned our company profitable within two years. The average daily weekday visitor count increased more than fourfold from 2014 to 2018.

——So, by changing the staff’s mindset, the organization as a whole also improved.

Mrs. Komaki: Yes; however, what brings me the greatest joy, more than our financial success, is the growth of our employees. Recently, I cried again seeing an employee speaking up in a budget meeting with a true owner’s mindset.
　Looking back like this, I've cried many times. In my life, there were tears of joy, of sadness, of fulfillment, of frustration, of deep emotion, and of gratitude. My life has been filled with tears. Yet, I’ve become stronger because I have shed tears behind the scenes so often.
　We often pray for a life that is smooth and uneventful. But if our lives truly were steady from birth to death, it would be very dull and monotonous. It's precisely the great fluctuations, the highs and lows, which give life its richness. And perhaps our tears may be the very substance that adds color to the journey.