Kihachiro Onitsuka and Onitsuka Tiger
As best I can remember, I wear the same shoes—Onitsuka Tiger—on more than 360 days a year. I own four pairs of COLESNE LO and rotate them. They’re comfortable and good enough for a quick morning run when I’m traveling for business.
Lately, I’ve been reading about the founders of products I use most. Today I’d like to share what I learned about Onitsuka’s founder, Kihachiro Onitsuka.
His original surname wasn’t Onitsuka, and how he acquired it reveals much about him. Born Kihachiro Sakaguchi in Tottori, he was conscripted into the Imperial Army during WWII. He had a close friend, Lieutenant Ueda, who was sent to Burma. Ueda asked Sakaguchi to look after Mr. and Mrs. Onitsuka—his prospective adoptive parents—if anything happened to him. Ueda never returned, so after the war Sakaguchi honored that promise despite the objection from his parents, moved to Kobe, and was adopted by the Onitsuka family, becoming Kihachiro Onitsuka. Without that promise, there would never have been Onitsuka Tiger.
Kobe, unlike rural Tottori, was devastated by bombing. Onitsuka saw orphaned street children and disillusioned youths. Needing work to support his adoptive parents, he briefly joined a black‑market firm but quit, believing his fallen friends had died for a better Japan and this business is not right. Seeking guidance, he consulted a former military officer, who suggested sports as a way to rebuild young people’s pride. In 1949 he founded Onitsuka Co., launching the Onitsuka Tiger brand (the “Oni” in Japanese folklore is an ogre).
Though he knew nothing about shoemaking, his energy and intelligence grew the company. Within a decade it was listed on the stock exchange. The iconic Mexico 66 model—with its crossed stripes—catapulted the brand to global fame. After merging with two other sports‑goods firms to compete with Mizuno, the company became ASICS.
Convinced a company exists for society, Onitsuka refused to make it a family empire. Before the IPO he distributed 70 % of his shares to employees, much like Marvin Bower at McKinsey, and none of his children took executive roles. That contrasts sharply with Mizuno, where the founding family still wields influence. Today the Onitsuka name no longer appears among ASICS’s major shareholders.
From day one, he aimed for a global brand. In his memoir he described competing on the Olympic stage against giants like Adidas. Today, about 75 % of ASICS revenue comes from overseas, whereas most of Mizuno’s still comes from Japan. ASICS’s market value is nearly $20 billion—half of Adidas, one‑third of Nike, and more than ten times Mizuno. Onitsuka’s dream is close to reality.
Even without the founder in management or the share registry, his DNA endures: social mission, distributed ownership, and global ambition. Onitsuka shows how a founder’s values can outlive the founder himself.
Finally, his story reminded me of the fact that every big company started as a fragile startup. Onitsuka preached the “gimlet strategy”—focus narrowly and drill deep, like a gimlet bit. Master one field and expand from there. That lesson remains timeless for startups today.