Can a VC Invest in a Comedian's One-Person Agency? Minamikawa Asks VC Associate Shiho Takai About Venture Capital

Takai described the job as investing in startups around the time of their founding and supporting those companies until they grow further. This is Takai's fourth year as a VC associate.

When Minamikawa checked, "'Support' sounds one-sided, but if the company grows, does the investor benefit too?", Takai answered with numbers. For example, if you invest 10 million yen when a company is valued at 100 million yen, and the company's sales grow substantially so that it is valued at 1 billion yen, the 10 million yen you invested has also grown tenfold. That, Takai said, is how a VC makes its profit.

Minamikawa also asked how this differs from ordinary stock investing. According to Takai, what day traders and others buy and sell are mainly shares of listed companies. Quantum Leap Ventures, by contrast, invests in unlisted startups at the so-called "seed stage," around the time of founding. That means it deals with companies at a stage where "no one knows what will happen to them." Minamikawa rephrased this as "something like buying unlisted shares," and Takai broadly agreed.

The firm has three representative partners, and Takai described her own position as something like "associate = member." When Minamikawa joked, "Mafia members are called associates too," Takai replied that, on looking up the etymology, Wikipedia said the term comes from members of the Italian Mafia. In terms of status, Takai said, it's a "salaried employee" position.

Minamikawa had initially pictured individuals who want to invest coming to a VC to ask for help. So Takai explained the flow of money. A VC takes in funds from large corporations, companies that want to invest in startups, government-affiliated institutions that want to support new challenges, and others. In the case of Quantum Leap Ventures, the amount under management is around 3 billion yen.

Part of the entrusted funds is taken as operating and activity expenses, and the rest is invested in dozens of companies. The goal is then to return two to three times the invested money to the investors. Minamikawa summed it up as "something like a securities fund company," and Takai agreed that the flow is basically that.

Takai also explained the division of roles within the firm. The three representative partners raise the funds, while Takai handles the investing side. The job, Takai said, is to meet with as many entrepreneurs as possible and find companies to invest in.

Takai revealed with a laugh that Quantum Leap Ventures is her seventh company. Her first job, in 2009, was at Yahoo! (now LY Corporation). Many of the people around Takai went into banking or the media, and hers was a generation that went job hunting under favorable conditions just before the Lehman shock. Takai recalls that Yahoo! may have looked like an unusual choice—people would say things like, "Oh, Yahoo! hires new graduates?"

At Yahoo!, Takai was involved in many teams launching new things, moving through 8 departments and 10 teams in 4 years and 3 months—"sometimes sent off, sometimes chosen," as Takai put it. Takai rates Yahoo! as a company with many opportunities that were distributed fairly. Including the chance to be involved in launching new businesses, Takai called it "a really good company." As a new graduate, Takai may have been conscious of wanting to do more interesting work than mid-career hires, but was never conscious of being a woman.

After that, Takai spent about five years handling public relations and PR at an AI startup—a company on the side that receives investment from VCs.

Takai appeared on the show this time wearing a happi coat because of her activities with a general incorporated association focused on women and AI. The association was launched in May of last year, and Takai is a founding member and serves on its board.

Takai described two triggers. The first was the experience from the AI startup days. Because there were few women in the AI industry, Takai would hold "girls' nights" even with women from companies that at first glance looked like competitors. Then generative AI arrived. Takai believes that if the people feeding information into AI are almost all men, the AI will only return male-ish responses. If there were more women users, wouldn't more information about things like childcare and housework come out? That, Takai said, is why she wants to increase the number of women users.

The second came after joining the VC, and Takai says, "I actually only became conscious of being a woman after I joined VC." There were few women at the AI startup too, but it was an easy place to work and the people delivering results were also women, so Takai never felt personally disadvantaged. But when going to events where large numbers of entrepreneurs and investors gather as part of the VC job, there were few women. Sometimes the speakers at panel discussions and the like were all men. Because Takai had expertise in AI, she joined the planning side that chose speakers for AI-related stages, but at the time felt that the only candidates were men. Left as is, the image of "this is who an expert is" would become fixed as male. So the activities began with wanting, first of all, to increase the number of women who could take the stage.

That said, Takai sees the number of people capable of speaking on stage as roughly the same between men and women. It's just that women tend not to come forward, or they end up going to overseas conferences instead.

The association's mission is "Taking every woman further with AI." Connecting women users with companies that want to hire AI talent is just one of its activities. Women returning from maternity or childcare leave, or who have come back from a husband's overseas posting and want to work again, often don't know how to learn AI. The association also supports such women in reskilling, and helps women who are considering starting a business as a new option, Takai said.

In the second round, the topic turned to the criteria for choosing investments. Takai prefaced it by saying it was hard to put into words, then introduced the mission of Quantum Leap Ventures: "Creating the 30 years of leaps together." Rather than lamenting the "lost 30 years," the idea is to make the next 30 years a leap forward.

Takai named two specific areas. One is deep-tech companies in fields such as space and materials. The other is entrepreneurs who take on overseas markets from the start, which the firm calls "Day One Global"—examples included starting to roll out a service in the United States, or building a team in Canada from the outset. The stage of developing the concept, Takai said, can be done in Japan.

When Minamikawa asked, "Even if there are no fixed criteria, do you judge holistically by looking at how they talk, their personality, and their plans?", Takai confirmed this. However, there are now said to be around 300 to 500 VCs, and if anything it's an era in which investors are the ones being chosen. Especially for entrepreneurs at the founding stage, no one knows what the world will look like in 10 years, and it's hard for them to "choose" a VC as well. So in Takai's sense, rather than VCs doing the selecting, it's closer to "Will they work with us?" or "Will they choose us?"

At this point, Minamikawa brought up having also founded a company: the agency "Nanse." Takai responded, "Let's definitely have a meeting," and suggested thinking it through together, starting from things like global expansion.

When Minamikawa asked, "How much could you invest?", Takai answered that it depends on how much is wanted and what the money would be used for, so they should think about that together. Minamikawa joked, "There's nothing in particular I want to do—I just want money," but Takai replied, "Let's grow it together."

When the amount came up again later in the show, Takai answered that the first step would be to work out a business plan together. Takai explained that when the side receiving investment shows that "with this amount, we could expand like this," it becomes very easy for a VC to get on board. When Minamikawa let slip, "Well, if you ask whether Nanse needs money, it doesn't really," Takai acknowledged that there are entrepreneurs like that too. Even so, Takai said, once you try sketching out "if we had this, we could do this," you sometimes find yourself wanting to give it a try. What Takai values is a relationship in which you can have those discussions together.

After the second round, Takai reflected as follows: it was a regret that, when asked "Why do you want investment?", no concrete amount or business plan had been brought. Takai was also wondering whether they could have a thorough online meeting afterward. It had also been an opportunity to rethink her own career and what she wants to do.

Minamikawa asked, "When you talk about this kind of thing, don't you feel like starting a company yourself?" Takai's answer was, "I'm really not cut out for it." That sense comes from about eight years of involvement in new businesses at Yahoo!, launching the Japan team of an American startup, internal new businesses at a company of around 100 people, and so on.

Asked what doesn't suit her, Takai answered, "I can't picture myself succeeding." Conversely, Takai can clearly see the person in front of her succeeding. From PR experience, Takai has developed a way of thinking along the lines of "Wouldn't this person do even better if this part of them were communicated?" Being in the spotlight is too stressful, so Takai wants to rise together with someone else as a behind-the-scenes supporter. Minamikawa summed this up as "a strong desire to help."

Looking ahead, Takai said she wants to keep doing her current role at her current company for a long time. Prefacing that the association's activities came "after the fact," Takai said there are many women nearby who are struggling with their careers, or who are highly capable yet have no work. Takai's view is that it would be wonderful to provide support that helps Japanese women entrepreneurs succeed globally, and wonderful to create an opportunity for something to change, even for just one person.

Asked which fields interest her, Takai answered that she talks with entrepreneurs around the founding stage about a truly wide range of genres, so they all end up seeming interesting. As examples, Takai cited a service that analyzes things like your skin and delivers cosmetics suited to you, and a toothpaste-sweet that supposedly breaks down dental plaque the more you eat. Minamikawa, noting that the previous guest had talked about something toothbrushing-related, joked that they could collaborate.

What interests Takai most personally is the domain inside the home. According to Takai, Japanese women, especially those with a university degree or higher, spend about five times longer on housework by global standards. That's exactly why Takai wants to learn more about smart-home services that change life at home. The means could be robots, or stuffed toys equipped with AI. When Minamikawa responded that women's careers are being eroded in part by the burden of housework, Takai replied that part of it is something like social custom.

In the final round, it was Takai's turn to ask Minamikawa a question: "If you weren't successful right now and had no work, what actions would you take to make it as a comedian?"

Minamikawa prefaced the answer by saying that how you fight depends on your agency. If you're at Yoshimoto, there's a Yoshimoto way to fight; if you're elsewhere, there's another way. Then Minamikawa answered under the premise of being at Shochiku Geino and still having no work.

Minamikawa revealed a plan that was pursued back when there really was no work, and that fell through because work in Japan picked up a little: expanding into China. Just before COVID, while researching China, Minamikawa learned of an art form similar to manzai called "xiangsheng." The thought was that doing manzai in Chinese might work surprisingly well. Minamikawa took Chinese lessons from a Chinese-born talent at the agency once a week, or as often as every three days at the most, and wrote three or four manzai routines. The plan was to perform manzai in China like a street show, film it, and post it on Minamikawa's own YouTube channel. Whether or not crowds gathered locally, the thinking was that it might become a talking point in Japan. But just as it was about to start, the COVID pandemic hit and going to China became impossible.

So if doing it now, Minamikawa said, it would probably be overseas-oriented. Mentioning practicing the Russian martial art Systema, Minamikawa said there are lots of people now taking sketch comedy, manzai, stand-up and so on overseas. Without work, Minamikawa would probably consider that direction while working a part-time job in Japan. Minamikawa also said that with no work at 40, it would be time to give up. Even 20 years is long; if 10 or 15 years produced no results, Minamikawa would probably cut losses—even if success might have been possible—and move somewhere else. Minamikawa added that there's no knowing whether that would succeed. Takai took this as "exactly Day One Global."

Takai said she had watched a YouTube video in which Minamikawa talks about their life so far, and asked about the seven years without success. Minamikawa introduced a theory: "Miss one chance and you go under for seven years."

Minamikawa's explanation goes like this. As with Mecha-Mecha Iketeru! back in the day, booms for young comedians come around in cycles every few years. If you fail the auditions at that time, you lose the chance to appear for about seven years. But if you keep going without giving up, you may suddenly seize a chance about seven years later. Among comedians, there may be a feeling of "Chances don't just keep coming for people like us."

Takai asked whether Minamikawa suddenly found their style during those seven years, or whether small accumulations turned into the distinctive self of today. Minamikawa first answered, "I think it was luck." It may sound like an inspiring story now because the work is coming in, but it's no inspiring story at all.

According to Minamikawa, back then the thought was, "I'm going to smash through all of them." It wasn't about dreaming of something; the idea was to tear everything down, including the agency. It wasn't a cool, rock-'n'-roll kind of story either. Minamikawa had fallen into a nonsensical mindset of "It's your fault I'm going through this." There was no actual punching, but having grown twisted, Minamikawa snapped at anyone and everyone. The lucky part, Minamikawa recalls, was that there were people who found that behavior amusing.

Takai felt that people follow intense anger and the urge to "change things," and replied that perhaps it wasn't luck but inevitable. In response, Minamikawa cited something Ryutaro Kamioka said, seen on YouTube, to the effect that comedians are always vulgar when they break through. The ideal is to be recognized as funny in competitions like the M-1 and gain fans. But Kamioka said decades ago that when they emerge, they're all vulgar, disliked, and come up amid people saying they can't stand them. Seeing that afterward, Minamikawa was able to think, in hindsight, "If the master says so, then it must be true."

Next, Takai asked what the amazing comedians around Minamikawa have in common. Minamikawa's answer: "Surprisingly, many are pure, and surprisingly, many are hard workers."

But "pure" here doesn't mean "nice." Minamikawa describes themselves as "nasty-natured pure." Minamikawa immediately spots what's unpleasant about people: I hate this behavior, I hate that verbal tic, why did you put your bag here just now? Only noticing unpleasant things like that hasn't changed since childhood. That "unchangingness" may be what purity means, Minamikawa explained.

As an example of earnestness, Minamikawa named Omiokuri Geinin Shinichi. With the caveat that this might ruin Shinichi's image as a comedian, Minamikawa said Shinichi is an earnest person who doesn't fool around with women at all. In Minamikawa's assessment, the old way—partying wildly, drinking out every night, and delivering results on the job—has reached a phase where it no longer works. Minamikawa thinks that now you can't get by without preparing material, even if it's staged, and putting in effort.

Toward the end of the conversation, Minamikawa said half-jokingly, "I want to quit in another two or three years and go back to the countryside." Asked what to do after going back, the answer was a hamburger shop. Minamikawa wants to wear jeans, put hamburger figurines in a wood-grain interior, and make burgers obsessively crafted right down to the ground meat from morning to night. Minamikawa also said it could be run privately somewhere around Setagaya, and Nanse merchandise could be sold there too.

When Minamikawa asked, "Are there lots of venture capitalists who'd want to invest in that?", Takai replied that she could find places that would invest. In wrapping up, Minamikawa said the day's biggest punchline was Takai's line, "If it's a Nanse burger shop, I can find places that would invest," and laughed about being one step closer to the dream. Minamikawa also said they'd like to wrap up the comedy career early and go to America to train in meat.

On the other hand, Minamikawa also expressed embarrassment about the final round, saying the questions were things that are hard for a comedian to talk about, and that saying them would surely invite teasing. Takai ended the conversation by saying she had been able to talk about her own dreams too. In the end, the investment in Nanse remains without any concrete amount or business plan decided, still at the stage of starting—as Takai put it—by sketching out "what you want to do."