Why Does a Software Engineer Sell Blades?
"Why are you selling blades?"
People ask me this all the time when they learn about Ichizo Honpo.
I understand the confusion. My day job is software engineering. I write code, design systems, and spend most of my time in front of a computer screen. I don't forge steel in a smithy. I haven't spent years training to sharpen knives.
And yet, here I am — working to bring the blade culture of Banshu, a region centered around Miki and Ono cities in Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, to the world. Reviving a brand called "Ichizo" that was born 70 years ago, and delivering handcrafted Japanese blades to woodworkers and chefs around the globe through eBay.
How did this happen?
The answer is simple. The people I met changed the course of my life.
Reuniting with a DJ Friend — Meeting Hariyoshi
The story goes back to my twenties.
I was a DJ back then. I played music at clubs, immersed in club culture. One of the friends I made during that time would later become the president of Hariyoshi (hariyoshi777.com), a company based in Ono, Banshu.
Hariyoshi is a fishing hook manufacturer. In the years after World War II, when Japan faced severe food shortages, their hooks earned a nationwide reputation — because they genuinely caught fish. But as the era of mass advertising arrived, Hariyoshi never jumped on that wave. They simply kept making exceptional fishing hooks, quietly, for decades.
By my thirties, I had established myself as a freelance software engineer. One day, my old friend from the DJ days — now the president of Hariyoshi — reached out.
"Can you help us rebuild our website?"
That was where everything began.
When Quality Craftsmanship Moves People
To build Hariyoshi's website, I visited their factory, held their products, and listened to their customers.
What I found there exceeded anything I had imagined.
Hariyoshi's fishing hooks moved people. Customers would write in saying, "I found the same Hariyoshi hooks my grandfather used to use." The word spread through nothing but genuine recommendation. Among the older generation, many knew the Hariyoshi name well. But as advertising dominated the market, awareness faded among the next generation. Still, among those who truly sought the highest quality fishing hooks, the name kept spreading — quietly, steadily, through word of mouth alone.
Quality craftsmanship makes people happy. And it creates stories.
The president of Hariyoshi told me: "I want to make the world a better place through the things we make."
Those words resonated with me deeply.
Meeting a Blade Dealer in Banshu
Ono city, where Hariyoshi is based, is also a renowned center of blade production.
In the late Edo period, a master swordsmith named Fujiwara Isuke worked under the Hitotsuyanagi clan, lords of the Ono domain. He adapted sword-forging techniques to create farming sickles known as "Kamisori-gama" — razor sickles. "The more you sharpen them, the better they cut." That reputation spread across Japan, and Banshu Ono was established as one of Japan's premier blade-producing regions.
Through my work with Hariyoshi, I was introduced to a blade dealer in the area.
This dealer had originally specialized in carpentry tools — particularly saws. They handled chisels, planes, kitchen knives, and all manner of blades. A long-established business. But like many traditional dealers, they had been unable to keep up with the shift to e-commerce, and their business had been slowly declining.
"You're a software engineer, right? Could you help us sell online?"
That's how they reached out to me.
And the brand that this dealer had created 70 years ago was — Ichizo.
The Weight of the Name "Ichizo"
Ichizo.
In the Meiji era, there lived a man named Ichizo in this part of Banshu. He was a philanthropist who devoted much of his personal wealth to local shrines and temples, dedicating himself to the well-being of his community. When the blade industry was being rebuilt after the war, the founder chose the name Ichizo for his brand — a name worthy of the highest quality blades.
It was never just a trademark. It was a promise — of absolute trust in quality, and of love for the land.
When I learned the origin of this name, I asked the blade dealer if I could visit Ichizo's grave to pay my respects.
If I was going to carry this brand forward, I wanted to show respect to the person whose name it bore. It wasn't a calculated move. It was simply what I felt I needed to do.
The blade dealer saw that, and decided to entrust the brand to me. "This is someone I can trust," he said.
What Only a Software Engineer Can Do
I am not a blacksmith. I cannot forge steel.
But there is something I can do.
Banshu's blades are world-class in quality. Generations of craftsmen in the Miki and Ono region have refined their techniques over centuries. But they had no way to reach the world.
Just like Hariyoshi, they missed the advertising era. They missed the internet era. All they had was the quality of their work — and they kept going, quietly, on that alone.
The "delivery" part — that's my job.
This is why I, a software engineer, run Ichizo Honpo. I build the website. I sell on eBay to reach customers overseas. I write blog articles about the cultural heritage behind these blades. I use social media to share the story of Banshu's forging tradition. I take what the craftsmen make and deliver it to the people who are searching for it.
When Philosophy Speaks Without Words
There is one moment from Ichizo Honpo's journey that I will never forget.
In Croatia, there is a chef who once cooked for the country's president and prime minister. Today, he teaches cooking and art to young people with behavioral challenges.
He owns over 50 knives — a true professional. One day, he saw a photo of an Ichizo Honpo Higonokami online. "This knife was made for me," he felt instantly, and placed an order.
When the Higonokami arrived, he adjusted the blade angle and opening to his liking, waterproofed the leather case with a blend of olive and coconut oil, and began carrying it in his pocket every day. He keeps it by his bedside at night.
A professional with 50 knives chose this single Higonokami as his "daily companion."
What made me happiest was this: he understood Ichizo Honpo's philosophy without anyone ever explaining it to him.
Simplicity. Keeping only what is essential. Stripping away everything unnecessary.
The philosophy we poured into this blade — he discovered it naturally, simply by using it.
What Lies Beyond the Blade
To be honest, what I want to do through Ichizo Honpo goes far beyond selling blades.
Japanese blades are a global brand. Many people are drawn to them, and they are easy to pick up and hold. But the blade is only the doorway.
What lies beyond it is Japanese culture itself.
Japanese culture has endured for over 1,500 years. Woven deep within it are timeless lessons — to treasure the things you own, to live with care and intention, to face yourself honestly. These are the kinds of wisdom that make a life richer.
A person picks up a blade and becomes curious about the culture behind it. They learn about that culture and begin to sense the value of living with intention. If more people feel that way, the world becomes a slightly more thoughtful place.
In an age where AI handles efficiency and logic, I believe we need richness of the heart, cultural depth, and time to face ourselves more than ever.
Carrying a 70-Year Legacy into the Next Century
The Ichizo brand was born 70 years ago.
Named after a Banshu philanthropist, it supported the golden age of Japanese carpentry tools and earned the trust of craftsmen. Eras changed — the age of advertising came, then the internet age — and still, the one thing that never changed was the quality.
My job is to honor those 70 years. And to carry this legacy forward into the next hundred.
To deliver Banshu-crafted blades to discerning people around the world. To let them touch the essence of Japanese culture through those blades. And to enrich their lives, even if just a little.
That is why I, a software engineer, do what I do with Ichizo Honpo.
Yoshiaki Kanazawa — Ichizo Honpo, based in Miki, Japan. March 2026.