[2024.12.17] Yuzuru Hanyu through the lens: The absolute champion as seen by the god photographer

[yuzurujenn]

Info: https://www.yamakei.co.jp/products/2824550260.html

 

Yuzuru Hanyu, who won consecutive Olympic gold medals in men's singles figure skating and continues to shine as a solitary figure even after turning professional. And there is Sports Nippon Newspaper's Kogaito Yoshiki, who has been following Hanyu through his lens and is known as the "god photographer" for his highly artistic photographic expression. Their encounter has dramatically changed figure skating photography in sports journalism.

 

Kogaito's figure skating photos stand apart from the traditional "standard" sports photos. With his fresh sensibility, he creates captivating images. His unique "Kogaito Blue," which emerged after much trial and error, brings out the transparency of Hanyu's presence and has gained immense support from fans. Kogaito passionately stated in an interview, "The world that Hanyu expresses is not only what is visible. By imagining and interpreting what is not visible, I am able to capture the true essence of his performance." This insight into what fascinates Kogaito about Hanyu, along with his beautiful photographs, delves deep into the heart of Yuzuru Hanyu, through the words of sports writer Mitsuru Tanaka.

 

Table of Contents:

Photo Gallery

 

Prologue

 

Chapter 1: Indomitable Spirit
1.1 The 2014 Sochi Olympics, during the days covering the (Hanshin) Tigers
1.2 Stubbornly refused to shave his head for the baseball team
1.3 Rejection from joining the club, cancellation of job offer; a series of setbacks at Waseda University
1.4 The path to becoming a sports photographer
1.5 Wanting to take photos unlike anyone else's

Chapter 2: Inner Conflict 
2.1 After a year and a half of struggle in the editorial department, reassigned to the photography section
2.2 The initiation of a Tigers beat photographer
2.3 After a second stint covering the Tigers, finally heading to Tokyo
2.4 From desk duty at the Rio Olympics to covering the PyeongChang Olympics
2.5 A new "company photographer" in the figure skating world

Chapter 3: Resistance
3.1 A photo position looking one year ahead
3.2 The "gaze" of the absolute champion omitted from the Tokyo edition
3.3 A fateful shot taken at the Autumn Classic
3.4 A “miraculous” shot capturing the champion, illuminated by wings
3.5 Photographs of the absolute champion beginning to transform

Chapter 4: Determination 
4.1 The absolute champion arrives at the PyeongChang rink
4.2 The fighting spirit shown by Hanyu as he draws a bow
4.3 A stunning short program conveyed through "expression"
4.4 Choosing a free-skate photo position based solely on belief in a gold medal
4.5 The moment of his second consecutive victory: The champion's expression beyond imagination

Chapter 5: Individuality
5.1 A new era of sports journalism created by social media
5.2 The story behind the creation of a full-page, poster-style photograph
5.3 Life at a crossroads with the absolute champion
5.4 Pursuing a unique style: "High-Key" and "Kogaito Blue"
5.5 The astonishing shooting scene where even failure becomes a picture
5.6 Covering the World Championships despite the COVID-19 pandemic

Chapter 6: Compassion
6.1 Hanyu's delicate and fleeting fighting spirit, dyed in blue
6.2 The Athletes’ Village Mixed Zone He Kept Secretly Waiting At
6.3 "Determination" and "solitude" conveyed through his back
6.4 A single shot capturing the moment immediately after the free skate

Chapter 7: Deepening
7.1 A flash of light! Thoughts of disaster-stricken areas that became particles of light
7.2 The sense of distance with the subject, Yuzuru Hanyu
7.3 A soft aura enveloping his determination
7.4 Able to take on any color! The intention behind photographing him in a white outfit to mark his second year as a professional

 

Special Feature: The Subject - Yuzuru Hanyu's "Monologue"

Exclusive Photoshoot

In Place of an Afterword

 

 

Cover Photo: Yoshiki Kogaito (Sports Nippon Newspaper Company)
Stylist: Minako Orihara (Mi-knot Inc.)
Styling Cooperation: Taketoshi Hara (Schtik Inc.)

Hair & Makeup: Tomomi Kakizaki (Cap)

Design: Minoru Suga

Proofreading: Ichiro Toba

Editor: Tatsuya Murao (Yama-kei Publishers)

 

 

Author: Mitsuru Tanaka

Associate Professor, Department of Sports Management, Shobi Gakuen University, Sports Writer. Born in Kyoto in 1978. Graduated from Waseda University, Faculty of Law. Completed the master's program in Sports Science at Waseda University Graduate School. After working at Sankei Shimbun, he is now in his current position. His specialty is sports media theory. He has covered professional baseball, MLB, figure skating, and more. His published works include 'A Portrait of Yuzuru Hanyu' (Yama-kei Publishers), and he co-authored 'Children Who Don’t Play Sports' (Fusosha Shinsho), among others.

 

Photographer: Yoshiki Kogaito

Photographer at Sports Nippon Shimbun. Born in 1983 in Mie Prefecture. Graduated from Waseda University, Faculty of Human Sciences, Department of Sports Science. Photographs figure skating, soccer, baseball, etc. He has worked on photo books such as 'Y Yuzuru Hanyu Photo Collection' (Sports Nippon Shimbun) and 'Mao Asada Ice Show Everlasting33 Photo Collection'.

 

 

 

[yuzurujenn]

*Machine translation. Inaccuracies exist*

 

 

PROLOGUE

“A fleeting moment of brilliance.”

 

Spoiler

October 18, 2024. This was the answer I received from figure skater Yuzuru Hanyu, who had just finished a photoshoot at a studio in the suburbs of Sendai, when I asked him what he expected from being a subject in a photograph.

 

“In figure skating, a performance is expressed as a 'line,' formed by a series of intricate movements. Photography, on the other hand, cuts out a single instant from that continuous motion as a 'point.' At times, this can even appear ruthless. Flaws that might be concealed within the flow of a “line” can be exposed when captured as a single 'point.'”

 

Yet in Hanyu’s performances, no matter which instant is captured, there is always “expression,” always something that reaches the level of “art.” That is the honest impression from the photographer who has always aimed his camera at Yuzuru Hanyu.

 

From the interview with Hanyu that I was given the opportunity to conduct for this book, I came to realize that photographs of him, capturing a single fleeting moment, are inevitably formed in that way.

 

Hanyu said: "Even if figure skating has beauty as a ‘line,’ if you break it down into very fine segments, each moment is nothing more than a ‘point,’ right? And even those ‘points’ are a continuous series of movements, like tiny particles. No matter how small and particle-like those ‘points’ are, I want all of them to be cool and beautiful, forming a single ‘line.’ If you think about it, time is the same. We tend to perceive it as a ‘line’ connecting the past to the future, but in reality it is nothing more than a continuous series of ‘nows.’ So as a subject being photographed, my ideal is to look cool every time, no matter which moment is captured."

 

—Do you have any particular mindset when you are in front of a camera lens?

 

Even to the author’s vague question, Hanyu responded clearly:

 

“To be in the best possible condition that the photographer wants to capture.”

 

There are two photographs. One shows the absolute champion immediately after a battle, his body fueled by adrenaline and fighting spirit. His intense expression makes it clear that he overcame injury and successfully defended his place at the top. The other, a view of his back, captures a “solitary figure” who, after attempting an unprecedented ultra-difficult jump, has completed his battle with himself.

 

These are photographs taken immediately after his free skate at the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics, where he secured back-to-back Olympic titles for the first time in 66 years in men’s singles, and during the Beijing Winter Olympics, when the International Skating Union (ISU) officially recognized the quadruple Axel (a 4.5-rotation jump) as a competitive element for the first time in history.

 

Both images were taken by sports photographer Yoshiki Kogaito of the Sports Nippon newspaper (Sponichi).

 

At both the Pyeongchang and Beijing Olympics, he continued to point his lens, determined not to miss a single "moment" of the champion.

 

The caption of the first photo reads: “‘I won!!’ Roar of gold medal victory” (Hanyu erupts in joy after finishing his free skate in the men’s individual event at PyeongChang. He wins gold, becoming the first man in 66 years to win back-to-back Olympic titles and earning Japan’s first gold of the Games, energizing the Japanese team = Gangneung Ice Arena, South Korea, February 17.) This photo also won the 2018 Tokyo Press Photographers Association Sports Division Award (Overseas).

 

However, Kogaito pays no attention to external recognition. What matters to him is whether he has taken a photograph he himself can accept, nothing more. Could it have been better? Was the shooting position optimal? Was the color balance right? Because he never feels he has truly captured Hanyu at his “best,” he has never once been satisfied with his own work. That is why he continues to aim for the next photograph to be the best one yet.

 

Kogaito arrives at interview venues ahead of other photographers, waiting with his camera even in places where no one else comes. He questions existing photographs and constantly asks himself, “Isn’t there another way to capture this?”

 

Hanyu was aware of Kogaito’s unwavering stance.

 

During the interview, I had assumed that Hanyu would avoid commenting on a single photographer, given the potential impact of such remarks.

 

However, speaking naturally, Hanyu said this about Kogaito:

 

“Among sports photographers, I really felt that he was the type who leans more toward an artistic style, someone who brings out their own unique color in their work,” he said.

 

Beside him, Kogaito smiled shyly, looking embarrassed.

 

Hanyu continued without hesitation.

 

“There aren’t many like that. Newspaper photographers tend to end up taking more news-style photos, you know? I’m not sure if ‘ignoring that’ is the right way to put it,” (Kogaito nodded when Hanyu looked at him), “but I always felt he had a very strong desire to photograph the scenes and moments he himself thought were good, in his own way.”

 

That was exactly the case. After graduating from university, Kogaito joined Sponichi (a sports newspaper), and never attempted to produce the so-called “standard” photographs that had long been the norm in sports reporting. As a result, his resistance to established conventions likely made him somewhat difficult to handle as an employee. In a newspaper’s photography department, editors wait for photographers to submit their images for publication. What would happen if photographs that deviated from the conventional “standard” format arrived?

 

A fateful encounter awaited Kogaito, who stood outside the bounds of “common sense.”

 

The subject he kept pointing his lens at was Yuzuru Hanyu. In addition to his overwhelming strength as an absolute champion in competition, he occasionally revealed graceful, delicate expressions, and his finely trained body was not merely steel-like, but also possessed a certain softness. The impression of “transparency” fit him perfectly, as he radiated a presence that transcended the boundaries of sport.

 

Even figure skating had its own “standard” photographs. These were shots of jump positions, spins, and other poses that made it immediately clear to readers which sport they were looking at. To achieve this, one of the conditions of such “standard” images was that the subject’s entire body, including the skates, had to be captured in the frame.

 

At figure skating events, in addition to newspaper photojournalists, there are also freelance photographers working for specialized magazines. Top-tier freelance photographers enjoy immense popularity among fans. Their approach, distinct from news photography, freely expresses figure skating through the “filter” of the lens, and is highly regarded.

 

Kogaito began to have doubts.

 

“Is it really fine for figure skating photos in sports newspapers to stay the same as before? As a photographer living in the era of Yuzuru Hanyu, is it enough to simply take ‘standard’ photographs?”

 

That single step led to a major transformation.

 

With smartphones and tablets now widely used across all generations, the shift away from print has become even more severe. It has long been said that “newspapers no longer sell.”

 

In such a climate, one particular sports newspaper stands out.

 

The morning after Hanyu, who had turned professional as a skater, opened his ice show to the media, sports newspapers across the board featured him in double-page spreads. While the articles were noteworthy, the main focus was a single image captured from the show. It is said that the vast majority of Hanyu’s fans are women.

 

Sports newspapers are typically filled with coverage of sports favored by middle-aged and older men, such as professional baseball, Major League Baseball, soccer, golf, sumo wrestling, and even public gambling (horse racing, keirin cycling, boat racing, and auto racing). Normally, this would not appeal to Hanyu’s fanbase.

 

However, the day after Hanyu’s public practices, solo performances, or ice shows in which he appears are made available to the media, sports newspapers sell out at convenience stores and station kiosks around major terminal stations in the host city.

 

Fans' interest lies not so much in the articles, but rather in the photographs of Hanyu published in the newspapers. Sports Nippon (Sponichi) is particularly popular. Fans are drawn to the beautiful shots that capture Hanyu’s expressions and physique, as well as the “transparency” characteristic of his image.

 

These are photographs by Yoshiki Kogaito, who became Sponichi’s “exclusive photographer for Hanyu.” Having challenged the status quo, he eventually came to be called a “god” among fans. Today, even within media circles, Kogaito is widely recognized as the “god photographer.”

 

Sports reporting in print media is broadly divided into two roles: “reporters,” who write the articles, and “photographers,” who capture images on site.

 

For reporters, “pre-interview research” determines the quality of an article. From interviews and press conferences already conducted with the subject, they extract memorable words, and also interview coaches and others around them, incorporating into the manuscript the unseen efforts and trajectory of the athlete—things the athlete themselves may not speak about—in order to convey them to readers. When enough anecdotes are gathered through “pre-interview research,” they are woven into the article for the day, and by adding results and circumstances, the framework of the article is formed.

 

In contrast, what is required of photographers can be said to come down to a single point: whether they were able to press the shutter without missing the fleeting moment as it happened. While reporters can later revisit and re-ask questions, photographers cannot retake a moment that has already happened in the field. Under such pressure, what is Yoshiki Kogaito’s pride as a photographer, having consistently produced photographs highly praised by fans?

 

How did his encounter with Hanyu change his approach as a photographer? And how did he continue to direct his lens toward the brilliance that Hanyu radiated? My motivation for writing this book was to explore "Yuzuru Hanyu as captured by the god photographer," through carefully selected shots from the countless photographs he had accumulated.

 

As I wrote in my previous work, "A Portrait of Yuzuru Hanyu: 4,000 Days Of An Absolute Champion As Seen by a Reporter" (published by Yama-kei Publishers), I began covering figure skating in the autumn of 2011, when I was working at the Sankei Shimbun.

 

At that time, figure skating coverage in Japan was still largely focused on female skaters. As men’s figure skating grew in popularity, Hanyu emerged like a comet, and men’s skating shifted from an era of many highly competitive top contenders to one defined by a single “absolute champion.” During this period, the mass media, including general newspapers and sports papers, competed through writing. The challenge was how to express skaters on the ice. The main focus was text, while photographs were little more than “supplements.”

 

However, with Kogaito’s emergence, Sponichi’s pages began to undergo a transformation. This was also supported by the strong backing of Yutaka Nagakubo, then head of the photography department, who had long served as a behind-the-scenes pillar supporting Sponichi’s figure skating photography. They introduced a new approach, shifting from the traditional model of “selling through words” to “selling through photographs.” During my time at the Sankei Shimbun, I even felt a sense of envy toward Sponichi’s strategy. Kogaito’s photographs, published in the newspaper and shared on social media, captured Hanyu’s transparency and emotions in a single, fleeting shot.

 

My relationship with Kogaito was limited to exchanging greetings when we met in the field. He was smart, polite, and never pushy. He was quiet and rarely seemed to engage in small talk with other reporters or photographers. In that sense, Kogaito was also a man who was difficult to read.

 

When I conceived the idea for this book, I wasn’t sure he would agree. However, when I explained my intentions, he readily agreed, saying, “That’s a wonderful offer. I’d be happy to cooperate.”

 

I was surprised when I heard about Kogaito’s path since he first set out to become a press photographer. He had by no means taken an elite career path. During interviews, he said this many times:

 

“I don’t have any talent as a photographer.”

 

However, he is stubborn to the point of refusing to conform to the photographers around him. Whenever there is a photograph that has been regarded as good in the past, he maintains his stance of trying to surpass that evaluation from a different angle. He prioritizes giving 100% to his subject over company evaluations. From an organizational perspective, he is by no means an easy photographer to deal with.

 

Having worked for a newspaper myself, I understand this well. So-called “difficult people” are a nuisance, whether they are reporters or photographers. There have been many cases of talented individuals who, despite their abilities, end up being sidelined from the field. In a different era, Kogaito might not have been an exception.

 

However, he encountered Yuzuru Hanyu, the darling of his time and an absolute champion. In the world of figure skating, where sport and art are said to merge, when the “solitary skater” who rose beyond the boundaries of competition to become an absolute presence became his subject, there was a brilliance that conventional figure skating news photography could not match.

 

Seeing Hanyu allowed Kogaito to break free from his own preconceptions.

 

"In the presence of such a skater, in front of Hanyu who continues to take on countless challenges, I can't afford to play it safe."

 

Removing his own limitations, the solitary photographer resolved to take photographs that defied conventional wisdom, photographs that no one else could take.

 

How did Kogaito transform “standard” photographs into images described as “divine”? There were numerous hurdles he had to overcome, both within himself and within Sponichi. This book reveals the details of these challenges. Here lies the life story of a photographer who devoted himself entirely to sports reporting.

 

Please note that honorifics for individuals have been omitted in the main text. In addition, Yuzuru Hanyu is generally referred to without honorifics; however, in the spoken comments of Yoshiki Kogaito and others, he is referred to as “-senshu” (athlete) during his competitive career, and as “-san” after turning professional.

 

[yuzurujenn]

*Machine translation. Inaccuracies may exist*

 

 

Chapter 1: Indomitable Spirit

 

1.1 The 2014 Sochi Olympics, during the days covering the (Hanshin) Tigers

 

Spoiler

February 14, 2014. In Sochi, Russia, a new chapter was written in the history of Japanese figure skating. Competing for Japan in the men's singles event at the Sochi Winter Olympics, Yuzuru Hanyu won the gold medal, becoming the first Japanese man ever to claim Olympic gold in figure skating. At 19 years and 69 days old, he was also the second-youngest men's Olympic figure skating champion in history.

 

That season, Hanyu achieved his first victory at the Grand Prix (GP) Final held in Fukuoka in December 2013, surpassing Patrick Chan (Canada), who was a three-time world champion. He then secured victory at the All-Japan Championships at the end of the year, earning his place on the Olympic team.

 

At the Sochi Olympics, he competed in the short program of the team event before the individual event. The team event, a new competition introduced at the Sochi Olympics, featured 10 teams competing in four disciplines: men's and women's singles, pairs, and ice dance. Representatives from each country/region competed to showcase their nation's overall strength.

 

For Japan’s men’s team, besides Hanyu, Tatsuki Machida and Daisuke Takahashi were also selected. As a result, Hanyu competed in the short program and Machida in the free skate for the team event.

 

In the men's short program of the team event, Hanyu competed on the same stage as his childhood idol, Russia's Evgeni Plushenko, and scored a remarkable 97.98 points, the highest overall. Riding that momentum into the individual event, he delivered a sensational performance to "Parisienne Walkways" in the short program. His score of 101.45 points not only made him the first skater in history to break the 100-point barrier in an ISU-sanctioned competition, but also set a new world-record score at the time. Going into the free skate in first place, he made some mistakes but still held off his challengers to claim the title.

 

On March 11, 2011, Hanyu was practicing on the ice when the Great East Japan Earthquake struck, and he and his family were forced to live in an evacuation center. Even so, he continued to skate in the face of adversity.

 

In March 2012, he won the bronze medal in his debut at the World Championships, establishing himself as a strong candidate for the Olympic team. The following season, he moved to Toronto, Canada, to train under Brian Orser. There, he refined his beautifully executed quadruple toe loop and Salchow, often regarded as textbook jumps, as well as his triple Axel (a triple-and-a-half rotation jump), known for its exceptional height and distance.

 

During the 2014 Winter Olympics, Kogaito was busy working as a photographer covering the Hanshin Tigers baseball team at the Sponichi Osaka headquarters, far away from Sochi, Russia.

 

Sports newspapers differ greatly between their Tokyo and Osaka editions. In the Osaka edition, regardless of the publisher—Sponichi, Nikkan Sports, Sankei Sports, or Daily Sports—the front page is, as a rule, dominated by coverage of the Hanshin Tigers. The only exception is Sports Hochi, which primarily focuses on the Yomiuri Giants.

 

Unlike general newspapers delivered to homes, sports newspapers are not only distributed by subscription but also compete heavily in the “instant sales” market at station kiosks and convenience stores. Targeting mainly office workers, they are often quickly picked up during busy commutes, drawn in by eye-catching front-page headlines. The front page of a sports newspaper is, in effect, the “face” of that day’s edition. In the Kansai region, almost all readers are interested in the results and developments of the Hanshin Tigers.

 

Reporters and photographers assigned to cover the Hanshin Tigers, who attract strong reader attention, are known as “toraban” (Tiger beat reporters). Top-tier reporters and photographers in this role often become well-known even among general readers.

 

Kogaito was also one of these “toraban.” Day after day, he followed Hanshin news and kept pressing the shutter, aiming to capture photos worthy of the front page.

 

Hanyu’s gold medal at the Sochi Olympics was featured day after day on news programs and sports broadcasts across Japan, especially in Tokyo, sparking a nationwide frenzy. However, Kogaito only has a faint memory of such excitement in Osaka.

 

“It felt somehow distant, like something from another world,” he said.

 

To reiterate, “toraban” reporters and photographers are among the most coveted positions in Osaka’s media circles. However, Kogaito admits, “Back then, I was struggling.”

 

In Hanshin Tigers coverage, exclusive scoops on star players, as well as trades and personnel decisions, quickly make the front page. As a result, competition among “toraban” reporters is fierce. I myself once covered the Hanshin Tigers for the Sankei Shimbun. During that time, I witnessed a young sports reporter being reprimanded the following morning by the “toraban” chief simply for failing to file a brief comment from a player.

 

It is not uncommon for boys who grew up as Hanshin Tigers fans to dream of becoming newspaper reporters, only to become “toraban” staff and then request a transfer because the job is not a good fit for them.

 

Kogaito, too, was removed from the “toraban” beat not long after joining the company. However, he fought his way back and was beginning to establish himself as a respected figure within the organization.

 

It wasn’t that he wanted to run away. He simply couldn’t stand staying where he was. That is why it was so difficult.

 

“If you become a toraban reporter or photographer, there are various stories about Hanshin every season, and in Osaka they are widely covered. Having your photo appear on the front page is deeply rewarding as a photographer. But for me, I found it difficult to constantly photograph the Tigers. I have tremendous respect for colleagues who continue shooting Hanshin and build their reputations that way. It is by no means easy to keep doing it. But I am the type of person who seeks different kinds of stimulation, and I wanted new challenges. I wanted to take on not only the Olympics and the FIFA World Cup, but also other professional baseball teams besides Hanshin, Major League Baseball, and international tournaments like the World Baseball Classic (WBC) as a photographer. If I had originally chosen to become a toraban photographer, I might have maintained higher motivation. But when I decided to become a photographer, covering a specific beat was not something I had in mind, and that may have influenced things.”

 

 

1.2 Stubbornly refused to shave his head for the baseball team
 

Spoiler

Kogaito was born in 1983 in Tsu City, Mie Prefecture. From elementary school through junior high school, he was a sporty boy who was passionate about basketball. Influenced by his baseball-loving father, he also played softball in elementary school, and even during junior high school, he would go to a nearby batting cage with his father after basketball practice.

 

He was said to have been good at academics. His best subjects were Japanese, art, and physical education, and he also enjoyed writing. Overall, including other subjects, he ranked among the top students in his local junior high school.

 

He went on to Mie Prefectural Tsu High School, one of the prefecture’s top-ranked academic schools. At that time, perhaps to fulfill his father’s wish for him to play baseball, he joined the school’s baseball team. However, Kogaito would leave the team after only a year and a half.

 

The reason, which would later connect to Kogaito’s sense of pride as a photographer, was that he could not adapt to the old-fashioned atmosphere of the team.

 

The baseball team at this academically competitive high school had no connection to the Koshien tournament and was considered a weak team. Despite this, its practices were no different from those of other schools. He grew weary of the meaningless shouting and had lost the joy he once felt for baseball when he used to go to the batting cages.

 

A decisive incident occurred in the spring of his second year. One of the upperclassmen moved to change the previously unrestricted hairstyle rules.

 

“If we’re aiming for Koshien, we’ve gotta have a buzz cut, right?”

 

Those with the loudest voices set the tone, and everyone else had no choice but to follow. However, Kogaito was not convinced. Would shaving his head really guarantee a trip to Koshien? He grew fed up with such simplistic thinking and the oppressive atmosphere of conformity. Before he knew it, he was the only team member who still showed up to practice with long hair.

 

One day, the senior who insisted on a buzz cut and the team captain summoned him to the club room next to the field. “Why won’t you cut your hair? Shave it right here and now.”But the more they tried to pressure him with force, the more stubbornly he refused to shave it. The discussion went nowhere, and before long it was past 11 p.m. The only people left at school were the coach, who was turning a blind eye to the players being forced to shave their heads, and the three of them who were still continuing the argument.

 

Just then, the familiar sound of a truck engine approached the field.

 

“Let my son out (let him go home)!”

 

Kogaito knew immediately. “Dad’s here.” His father, a plasterer, hated anything dishonest or unjust. Having vaguely known that Kogaito was refusing to shave his head, he had come to check on him, worried about his son being late getting home.

 

Kogaito saw the coach rush out of the staff room onto the field.

 

In the end, the coach intervened for the first time, and it was confirmed that shaving one’s head was not mandatory. However, he felt uncomfortable in the club and soon chose to quit.

 

After quitting the baseball team, Kogaito began to follow his own path.

 

He dedicated himself to soccer, a sport almost the complete opposite of baseball.

 

Although Kogaito had been passionate about basketball and baseball during elementary and junior high school, his true “companion” during the time he spent alone after school was, in fact, a soccer ball.

 

Because his father worked as a plasterer and his mother as a nursery school teacher, both often came home late around 6–7 p.m. Because of the age difference with his older sister, who was eight years older, they never played together.

 

Due to his mother’s educational policy, there was no television at home, and he had never played video games or been interested in them. “All I could do was read books or play outside,” he said. “Basically, I liked being alone. It was easier for me to play by myself.” Even as a photographer, Kogaito prefers not to socialize in groups, which likely stems from this innate personality.

 

Practicing wall-bouncing with either a baseball or a soccer ball against a nearby wall was part of his daily routine. Even after his parents came home and dinner was finished, he would head to the wall under the overpass, calling it his “night sessions.” Relying on the light of streetlights, he would sometimes play alone until around 11 p.m.

 

“That’s why I’ve been playing with a soccer ball since the lower grades of elementary school.”

 

In addition, from first grade onward, he would run more than 5 kilometers almost every day at night to build endurance. He enjoyed running and would also run alone around the school grounds during breaks and after school.

 

“Of course I had friends. But I was more suited to working on things quietly on my own. In elementary school, if you’re good at sports, people respect you, right?”

 

In fact, Kogaito was popular at school and even served as student council president.

 

There was another reason he kept running.

 

“I’m extremely competitive.”

 

In a marathon held in first grade of elementary school, he came in first place. At the time, he felt the result simply came from running with all his might. However, he hated the idea of finishing second or lower in the annual marathon year after year, so he kept running seriously. He didn’t want to give up first place to anyone. He held onto the top spot for six years.

 

Having chosen baseball over basketball, Kogaito turned to soccer after that path closed off to him. He looked for a team that would accept him despite his lack of experience. His research led him to a youth club team in Aichi Prefecture, adjacent to Mie Prefecture. The train ride from his home took about 1.5 to 2 hours each way. Nevertheless, he kept going, determined to continue playing soccer.

 

At first, he was looked down upon by his teammates. He motivated himself by calling himself “street soccer–bred,” having honed his skills through wall practice, and made up for it with his stamina and speed. Gradually, he began to get playing time. He played as a forward and continued until his third year of high school. In his final match before retirement, they faced a strong team from the same region. They suffered a heavy defeat, but the team’s only goal came from Kogaito’s foot. “I scored the last goal myself in the end.” Along with a sense of accomplishment, it sparked in him a desire to continue playing soccer in university.

 

He went on to enter Waseda University’s School of Human Sciences, Department of Sport Sciences. He chose it partly because he wanted to become a trainer responsible for athletes’ physical care in the future, and also because he wanted to continue playing soccer at university.

 

 

1.3 Rejection from joining the club, cancellation of job offer; a series of setbacks at Waseda University

 

Spoiler

After knocking on the door of the athletic soccer club (Waseda University Association Football Club), Kogaito once again experienced a setback caused by a seemingly unreasonable situation.

 

This prestigious club, which has produced J-League players, includes a group of “sports-recommended admissions.” Other first-year students, including Kogaito, were required to pass a selection process.

 

The selection method consisted simply of running. Endurance runs and cross-country runs in a park beside the training ground were conducted, and anyone who failed to finish within the designated time was disqualified. For Kogaito, it felt like a perfect opportunity.

 

For first-year students aiming to play soccer in the athletic program at Waseda University Association Football Club, even those without recommendation status, Kogaito was at a disadvantage if judged on technical ability since he had no prior club experience. However, he did have something to rely on: endurance, built up since his elementary school days.

 

Around him were players who had been regular starters at strong high school teams, as well as those who had played in J-League youth academies. About 30 candidates took part in the selection process, but one by one, many of the promising players dropped out. In the end, Kogaito survived the race, and only fewer than ten freshmen were ultimately accepted into the club.

 

“So they even accept amateurs.”

 

He came to like the open atmosphere of Waseda University Association Football Club even more. However, when Kogaito received the membership application form, he was troubled. There was nothing to write in the section for his soccer experience. In the end, he had no choice but to list his experience in other sports and submit it.

 

He was then called in by the captain.

 

“Have you never been part of a soccer club?”

 

“No.”

 

“In the history of our club, we have never taken someone like that before. We cannot allow you to join.”

 

Kogaito was deeply shocked.

 

“In hindsight, if I had bowed my head and begged them to let me in, saying I would work hard, I might have been accepted. But at the time, I was disappointed, or rather, I accepted it, thinking, ‘So Waseda is like that too.’”

 

Kogaito joined a soccer circle made up mostly of students from the Faculty of Human Sciences. It was not part of the athletic program, but rather a group that simply played soccer for enjoyment. Events such as welcome parties for new students, summer training camps, Christmas gatherings, and farewell parties for graduating members were central to the circle’s activities, with drinking parties forming one of its main pillars. Kogaito, who was not comfortable in group settings, was never at the center of the circle and instead remained a somewhat detached participant, simply taking part in activities in a passive way.

 

Meanwhile, his preparations to pursue a career as a trainer were going well, and he also took part in an internship at a well-known gym in Japan.

Through the “e-School” distance learning program, he also gained experience working part-time as an “educational coach,” supporting students in their studies.

 

During this period, several “connections” that would later lead him toward becoming a sports photographer began to emerge.

 

For example, one of the students he worked with in class was Yukari Nakano, who was competing at the top level of women’s figure skating in the world.

 

At his internship, he also happened to meet a photographer from the major publishing company Kodansha, who was there for a photography assignment. On his first day of training, Kogaito accidentally dropped a 10-kilogram barbell plate onto his foot, breaking his little toe. He had come for a trainer internship, yet ended up needing rehabilitation himself. It was this photographer who smiled and encouraged the dejected Kogaito.

 

As a fourth-year university student, Kogaito began his job search in earnest while exploring the possibility of becoming a sports trainer. Around that time, he received a job offer from a pharmaceutical company. Later, he was also informally offered a position as a trainer at the gym where he had interned. With his future suddenly opening up, Kogaito decided to stay true to his original goal and informed the pharmaceutical company that he would decline the offer in order to pursue a career as a trainer.

 

In the summer of his fourth year, as he prepared for employment, he underwent training through an internship as a trainer. The job offer he received was from a regional gym far from Tokyo and also distant from his hometown of Mie. This period was also marked by a wave of anxiety about working as a trainer and living in a rural area all at once.

 

“I was feeling a bit nervous myself.”

 

Perhaps sensing his state of mind, a shocking incident followed. In December, just before graduation, he received an email from the gym cancelling his job offer. No clear reason was given, but it was certain that his planned career as a trainer had fallen through. As a result, his post-graduation path was suddenly left undecided.

 

At that time, the term “second-time job seeker” had not yet become common, and job hunting favored students who were still expected to graduate over those who had already graduated. Kogaito therefore felt he could not afford to graduate as things stood, and had no choice but to repeat a year in order to remain enrolled at the university.

 

 

1.4 The path to becoming a sports photographer
 

Spoiler

With his future plans suddenly back to square one and the unexpected prospect of a fifth year at university, Kogaito decided not to devote himself solely to job hunting, and instead began to entertain some unconventional ideas.

 

With an extra year of student life, his passion for football reignited.

 

“I couldn’t play soccer in the university athletic club, and I wasn’t a central figure in my circle activities either. I always had this lingering feeling of dissatisfaction, that I hadn't fully committed myself to soccer or sports in general. With my university life extended by a year, I didn’t want to just go through job hunting again. Before entering the workforce and becoming a working adult, I wanted to achieve a sense of fulfillment, something that would make me feel I had truly given it everything I had.”

 

Kogaito had his eye on a certain team, a professional beach soccer club in Okinawa that had once experienced becoming Japan’s best.

 

He was determined to somehow play there. With no connections whatsoever, he reached out to the team anyway. They replied, “Just come down and give it a try.” Delighted by those words, he made his way to Okinawa.

 

He was practically a novice at soccer and had no experience at all in beach soccer. His feet kept getting caught in the sand, which presented a different kind of difficulty compared to a dirt pitch. He started out by picking up balls, but little by little, his progress in training began to be recognized. He never had the chance to appear in official matches, but in the end, they arranged a practice match just for him. He played in an attacking position, like the forward role he had played in high school, and ran desperately across the sand.

 

“I guess I really didn’t have talent after all (laughs). But I was able to take on the challenge and bet on my potential. I can’t say I have no regrets, but I was able to end my soccer career with a sense of satisfaction.”

 

Kogaito had begun exploring job opportunities again from December of his fourth year at university. He no longer aimed to become a trainer; the disappointment of having that path taken away had also left him unmotivated. Even so, he still wanted to be involved in sports and was researching what kinds of fields might exist. During a period when he still couldn’t decide on a direction, he confided his worries to a photographer from Kodansha whom he had met during an internship.

 

“Aren’t you interested in photography?”

 

It was a world he had never even considered before, but Kogaito, who had always been good at art and liked it as a subject, began to feel a slight interest.

 

Then the photographer gave him a film camera and a digital camera. There were also five or six lenses, covering different focal lengths.

 

“You can pay me back when you make it. Just give it a try.”

 

Kogaito immediately set out on a journey with his camera in hand. He traveled around Japan and overseas as he pleased, continuously pressing the shutter. He particularly focused on photographing children, as well as the Moai statues on Easter Island in Chile and Inti Raymi in Peru, known as one of South America’s three major festivals. It was during this time that he truly experienced the simple joy of taking photographs. When he pointed the lens, the camera became a medium through which communication with children emerged. As that communication deepened, the photographs themselves began to change.  Moreover, the joy of expressing what he had captured as finished works, and the act of aiming the lens while anticipating the next moment, gave him a sensation similar to playing a sport.

 

Looking back now, this became the very foundation of him as a photographer, his original landscape, so to speak. Drawn to the world of photography, Kogaito came to want to become a sports photographer who connects sports and cameras.

 

It is said that many photographers at major newspaper companies, what are known as general newspapers, come from art universities or have been active in photography clubs during university. He felt that he could not compete with such people in terms of experience. At that time, the photographer from Kodansha whom he had consulted advised him, “Sports newspapers probably don’t care as much about experience.”

 

He realized: he could photograph sports. Sports newspapers, in fact, felt like the perfect workplace for him. Nikkan Sports, his father’s favorite newspaper, and Sports Nippon, which he often saw at train station kiosks, came to mind. He requested application forms from these two companies and began his second round of job hunting.

 

He decided he would do everything he could.

 

He contacted Yukari Nakano and asked if he could photograph her figure skating practice sessions. Nakano welcomed him warmly, and they even created a photo book. Fumie Suguri, also a Waseda University alumna who trained at the same rink, also allowed him to take photographs. This was in 2006. Suguri had placed fourth at the Turin Olympics, and Nakano was also active as a top-level skater at the time.

 

“When I look back at them now, they’re just ordinary practice photos with nothing distinctive, and it’s really embarrassing. But it was an incredibly valuable experience, and I’m truly grateful to the two of them for their cooperation.”

 

The hiring exams for sports newspapers were for general-track positions, covering reporters, photographers, and back-office staff such as HR and general affairs in a single recruitment process. Kogaito strongly emphasized his goal of becoming a sports photographer and succeeded in securing a job offer from Sports Nippon. He was a reserve candidate for Nikkan Sports. Depending on the outcome of that result, the landscape of figure skating photojournalism might have been significantly different.

 

 

1.5 Wanting to take photos unlike anyone else's

 

Spoiler

“I became a photographer because I wanted to take photos that are different from others.”

 

From the very beginning, Kogaito’s aim was to pursue an “independent path.”

 

In the world of sports photojournalism, there are certain “standard” types of photographs that are valued within the profession.

 

For example, in figure skating photography, it used to be that for male skaters, the key moment was the instant they were performing a jump, while for female skaters it was the spiral position.

 

From the skaters’ perspective, even if their jumping posture looks beautiful, the facial expression during rotation is often a moment they would prefer not to have photographed.

 

Such photographs have become less common due to criticism from readers. However, there were also other “essential elements” that were required, such as making sure the skates are visible, or that hand movements clearly convey that the skater is dancing.

 

To put it bluntly, even if a photographer captured a great expression, it was not uncommon for them to receive a harsh phone call from the desk editor responsible for selecting images for the next morning’s newspaper, saying, “You can’t even tell what sport this is from this photo.”

 

Of course, there is also logic specific to sports reporting. While television conveys the results of competitions through video footage, newspapers must tell the story with text articles and only one or two photographs.

 

In an era when fewer people are reading newspapers, the “entry points” for those who do look at the page are the headline and the photograph, which tell readers what sport the article is about. Only then do interested readers proceed to the article itself.

 

Therefore, headlines must be impactful, and photographs are required to instantly make clear which sport the article is about.

 

“Clear and simple.” Sports photographers have long been evaluated based on their ability to consistently capture such images in any situation. As a model of sports photojournalism accumulated over many years, this approach was taught by senior photographers, practiced by themselves, and passed on to juniors.

 

Kogaito, who now photographs figure skating, says:

 

“The photographs used in sports reporting that have been passed down since long ago serve the role of conveying information to a wide readership. Sports newspapers are media that primarily focus on sports reporting, but depending on the sport, the coverage is not always very in-depth. In professional baseball, for example, where a long history has been accumulated over many years, articles that appeal to knowledgeable readers are often preferred. However, when covering a general sport such as figure skating, it is necessary to create a broad, accessible, and easy-to-understand layout, like a 'general sports newspaper.' But I think that also means sports reporting articles and photographs have not been updated. It’s like, ‘Since it’s figure skating, it’s jumps, right? Photos of them skating are good, and the whole body, including the skates, should be shown.’ That ‘standard format’ was treated as the norm, and I think no one sought change.”

 

Yutaka Nagakubo, who was the head of the photography department at the time and a close confidant of Kogaito, reflects:

 

“I started photographing figure skating on-site a little before the 1998 Nagano Olympics. Back then, there were no digital cameras, and everyone used 36-exposure film. There was no time to change film during a performance, so everyone was competing over what they could capture within 36 shots. You had to take 5 or 6 shots at the beginning of the performance, capture skating movements as the routine got underway, and still save 5 or 6 shots for the final celebratory moment. That meant you could only actually photograph about 15 shots of the performance itself. At that time, Takeshi Honda was a top male skater who could perform quadruple jumps, so jumps became the main theme for men. And for women, it was the visually elegant spiral. Back then, even scenes of falls and mistakes were considered picturesque, and such images were often featured in newspapers. The photos themselves were what Kogaito called ‘standard-format’ photos—vertical shots showing the full body, which was considered the norm. The internet was still not widespread, and there was no social media, so there was no way to hear the voices of fans or readers.”

 

Subsequently, jump photos fell out of favor with the skaters, and other shots began to be used instead. Photographs capturing skaters’ expressions of joy began to be featured more often than moments of failure. However, it did not lead to a dramatic change.

 

It was in this context that Yuzuru Hanyu emerged.

 

In figure skating, which was often referred to as a “women’s sport,” he established the status of male skaters. As a skater whose high-difficulty quadruple jumps, outstanding artistry, and even off-ice expressions all became “photogenic,” he earned high acclaim not only in Japan but also in North America and Europe, and further created new fan bases across Asia, including China, Taiwan, South Korea, and Thailand.

 

And the fan base drawn to Hanyu’s appeal also began to turn their attention to sports newspapers. For the newspaper industry, which had been suffering from declining circulation and where efforts to cultivate new readership were often regarded as unrealistic directives from upper management, this was an unexpectedly favorable situation.

 

In this way, Kogaito’s work, which clearly set itself apart from conventional sports photography, came to gain support. Kogaito himself acknowledges this.

 

“I was fortunate with the era I worked in. I thought that mass-appeal photos don’t generate real excitement, and in an age overflowing with information, I don’t think broad, superficial reporting captures people’s interest. Photos that are easy for everyone to understand, in reality, may not reach anyone’s heart. When true fans pursuing Hanyu’s appeal began buying sports newspapers, I thought that if we couldn’t produce photos targeting the core figure skating audience, sports newspapers would not survive. Normally, if an inexperienced person like me said something like that, no one in the company would accept it. But there was Hanyu, a once-in-a-generation skater, as the subject, whose images could not be captured within the usual ‘standard format,’ and fans were also seeking different kinds of photos. That’s why I think my ideas, despite being somewhat unorthodox, were accepted.”

 

In fact, Kogaito acknowledges that events featuring Hanyu, such as competitions and ice shows, have an impact on the sales of sports newspapers the following morning.

 

For example, when an ice show is held in Sendai, sports newspapers are displayed in unusually large stacks at kiosks inside JR Sendai Station and at surrounding convenience stores.

 

Kogaito focused on a core fan base, pressing the shutter with the intention of creating deeply impactful and striking photographs.

 

“It’s very encouraging to know that there are new readers who pick up a sports newspaper even just a few times a year. Seeing spectators holding a copy of Sponichi around venues where Hanyu performs makes me happy and boosts my motivation. It’s a moment when I feel that my photographs are reaching people’s hearts.”

 

Of course, the decline in reading among younger generations is serious, and even if sales temporarily increase when articles about Hanyu appear in the paper, it does not stop the steady downward trend in newspaper circulation.

 

Amid this situation, newspapers have also begun to turn their attention to new content businesses.

 

One approach is enhancing articles and photographs on their websites. And what Sponichi, with its “god photographer” Kogaito, is focusing on is Yuzuru Hanyu photo books.

 

Not only the photographs published in the newspaper itself, but also emotionally perceptive images of the subject drew in a new readership.

 

The path to this point was far from easy. It took more than ten years after joining the company for Kogaito’s work, which was considered nothing more than “different” within sports photography for not adhering to “standard formats,” to come into the spotlight.

 

 

 

*Alternative CN translations:
https://m.weibo.cn/status/5113237508720695
https://m.weibo.cn/status/5113281584824326
https://m.weibo.cn/status/5113353293532836
https://m.weibo.cn/status/5113362285596028
https://weibo.com/7848586779/P5sqYw3fW
https://m.weibo.cn/status/5113386819914480

[yuzurujenn]

*Machine translation. Inaccuracies may exist*

 

 

Chapter 2: Inner Conflict 

 

2.1 After a year and a half of struggle in the layout department, reassigned to the photography department

 

Spoiler

April 2007. Kogaito's first assignment after being hired by Sponichi was in Osaka.

 

The Osaka edition of Sponichi, published from the company's Osaka headquarters in Umeda, Kita Ward, Osaka, features the Hanshin Tigers professional baseball team prominently on its front page, along with articles on professional soccer teams like Gamba Osaka and Cerezo Osaka of the J.League, as well as high school baseball tournaments held in spring and summer. Focusing primarily on Kansai-related stories, it is produced as a separate edition with a different content mix and page structure from the edition published by the Tokyo headquarters.

 

Kogaito's first assignment was to the newspaper's Layout Department. The department's job was to write clear, reader-friendly headlines for articles submitted by field reporters and to arrange articles and photographs on the page. Editors also considered the paper's visual appeal, experimenting with headline fonts and incorporating data and graphics where appropriate. This is why a layout editor's talent is often said to be measured by two things: headline writing and page composition.

 

As the first readers of a manuscript, they examine it to understand what the news is and what the reporter wants to communicate, then come up with a headline. For sports newspapers, front-page stories and photographs, which are crucial for immediate sales, and the clear headlines that accompany them can significantly influence daily circulation.

 

“You don’t buy paper when you buy a newspaper; you buy information. Therefore, after a day has passed, a newspaper containing information everyone already knows is essentially trash.” For that reason, unsold copies must be avoided at all costs. This is why highly skilled front-page layout editors are considered the stars of sports newspapers.

 

Of course, having a sense for headlines alone is not enough. Every day, editors must decide the importance and placement of articles submitted from the field, and even low-priority news must be included if it is necessary. It is impossible to publish every article, but forcing too much into the page would make it look cluttered and unattractive, discouraging readers from picking it up.

 

Unlike internet search, where readers choose which articles to read, newspapers select and publish only the stories they deem important, and they convey the importance of the news through differences in size and placement. Layout editors design the page while considering things like photo size and headline emphasis as they build the overall layout.

 

Since it was for the next morning’s edition, there was no time for leisurely reflection. Moreover, news that arrived at the very last minute before printing still had to be squeezed into the layout. As deadlines approach, the layout department becomes extremely intense, sometimes erupting into shouts like “Hurry up and replace that copy!”

 

It is said that even reporters who go out into the field benefit greatly from experience in the layout department, because those who have worked in layout can write articles while considering what kind of headlines will be effective.

 

In such a demanding environment, Kogaito was gradually fading into obscurity.

 

After starting to live alone in Suita City, Osaka Prefecture, near the head office, Kogaito would arrive at his workplace in the editorial bureau of the Osaka headquarters at 2:30 p.m. He learned the fundamentals of newspaper production through Sponichi’s evening edition at the time.

 

His first assignment was not on highly visible pages such as the front page or the back page (the final page), but on pages covering topics like horse racing, which are found inside the newspaper.

 

Compared with coverage such as that of the Hanshin Tigers, where night games often run right up against the morning edition deadline, these pages are relatively low-profile. Because it is an evening edition, circulation is also smaller. Often considered a “stepping stone for young staff,” these sections have more generous deadlines, and those who can create effective headlines and handle page layouts well, while considering the size of photos and headlines, are eventually entrusted with Hanshin Tigers coverage. However, Kogaito struggled with page composition and hit a wall.

 

The process of handing pages over from the layout desk for printing is called “going to press” or “sending the pages to press.”

 

“We’re going to press now.”

 

“Page 2 is going to press.”

 

While other section editors one after another checked in with the layout desk and department head to report their pages as finished, Kogaito’s pages were often still left blank, with the layouts unfinished.

 

Pages had to be sent to press by 6 p.m. As the deadline approached, the desk editors would often gather around his computer screen and give instructions on how to assemble the page. Even so, he sometimes went past the deadline and was often scolded.

 

Three trainees from his intake group were assigned to the same department, but the other two quickly adapted and were moved to the morning edition team, known as the “main edition” (honban). “I was the only one who didn’t improve at all; it was a painful, difficult time.” After sending the evening edition to press, he would spend his days helping prepare the morning edition.

 

Keenly aware of his lack of aptitude as a layout editor, Kogaito began to worry, “Maybe working at a newspaper isn’t for me,” and admits, “Honestly, there were times when I seriously considered quitting.”

 

On his only days off, Kogaito would go to a nearby hill and run sprints to clear his mind and work up a sweat.

 

“I sometimes found myself wondering what would have happened if I had kept playing beach soccer. Looking back, I think I was using those thoughts as a way to create an escape. It wasn’t realistic, of course. I spent a year and a half in the layout department, but after a while I started seriously thinking about how I could get out of there.”

 

There was only one job that truly gave him a sense of fulfillment: being assigned as a photographer, the job he had always wanted.

 

To that end, he made time to attend a ballet class run by an acquaintance. He was asked to photograph rehearsals and performances, and began taking pictures as a hobby.

 

As he started photographing ballet, he noticed something.

 

He realized that there was such a thing as a “standard” type of photograph.

 

Ballerinas had long favored traditional photographs that were well established in the world of ballet. In terms of angles, a frontal shot was considered the “standard.”

 

His acquaintance told him he was free to shoot however he liked. Kogaito of course took the standard front-facing shots, but he also began to think about what kind of photos he could get by changing the angles.

 

He took photos from the sides of the stage and from backstage, and even when shooting from the front, he changed the height and angle. What kinds of photos could be taken if he didn’t stick to the “standard” composition? The alternative shots that differed from the traditional image were well received. Simply by adjusting the angle, the overall impression of the photographs changed completely.

 

Kogaito refers to the camera work he developed at this time as his “starting point.” He was thanked by his acquaintance and the ballerinas, and also received payment for his photography. It was the first time he had ever been paid for taking photographs.

 

Whether or not his efforts had been noticed, a transfer order came in October 2008. He was assigned to the photography department at the Osaka headquarters. His long-awaited wish had finally come true.

 

And so, his career as a sports photographer began.

 

2.2 The initiation of a Tigers beat photographer

 

Spoiler

That year, the Hanshin Tigers were on a dominant winning streak, leading the league from the start of the season, but were caught by the Yomiuri Giants in the final stretch. They had a lead of up to 13 games, but were overtaken in the final stretch of the season. After losing a game in Yokohama on October 10 and missing out on the championship, manager Akinobu Okada decided to resign, taking responsibility for the result.

 

It was around this time that Kogaito became a photographer at the Osaka headquarters of Sponichi. Naturally, the Hanshin Tigers became the focus of his work, and Kogaito was absorbed into the “Toraban” team covering the Tigers.

 

As the Osaka-based media closely tracked Okada’s movements, Kogaito received a call from the company on his mobile phone.

 

“Go to Shin-Osaka Station.”

 

The next day, on the 11th, his assignment was to capture Okada’s expression as he returned from the road trip to Yokohama.

 

In Osaka sports newspapers, it is often said that “win or lose, it’s always Hanshin on the front page.” If a manager announces his resignation, that photograph will undoubtedly be on the front page.

 

Assigned such an important task despite being newly posted and still inexperienced, Kogaito photographed Okada’s expression without really knowing what he was doing. After sending the photos from his laptop and returning to the office, he was reprimanded by the desk editor.

 

"There's a rule about how photos should be taken right after a manager announces their resignation. Memorize that."

 

Even after that, he thought he had a rough understanding from old newspaper clippings, but the photos he took of players’ off-season training sessions and contract renewals never came out as the desk editors had envisioned.

 

“There’s a standard format in sports photography.”

 

Finally getting his long-awaited assignment as a photographer, he found himself constrained by the “standard formula” approach.

 

A particularly painful incident came during the 2008 autumn draft meeting, held under new manager Akinobu Mayumi. It was only natural that Hanshin’s first-round pick would be front-page news.

 

Just before the draft, sports newspapers coordinate which reporters and photographers will be assigned to which players’ draft-day locations. This is because drafted players hold press conferences at their respective high schools, universities, or affiliated companies.

 

Hanshin’s top first-round candidates are closely tracked by each outlet’s amateur baseball reporters and Tigers beat writers, with articles prepared in advance. Top-tier photographers are also assigned to the press conference venues. Kogaito, however, was assigned to cover a university player whom Sponichi believed would not be selected in the first round.

 

However, fate intervened. Hanshin’s first-choice pick overlapped with another team, and they lost the lottery. Their next pick also overlapped, and they lost the draw again. By the time they reached their “fallback first-round pick,” Hanshin was the only team left, meaning they could select any player and automatically secure exclusive negotiating rights.

 

When Kogaito heard the name of the player Hanshin had selected, he was probably the most surprised of all.

 

Hanshin’s first-round pick was a player from the university Kogaito had been assigned to cover.

 

“Is Kogaito going to be okay?”

 

Even within Sponichi, there was a stir.

 

Kogaito was at the press conference venue in a relaxed state and did not yet fully understand the “standard formula” for draft coverage.

 

The first-round pick is lifted up by his juniors in a celebratory pyramid-like formation. A photographer from another company has the student at the very front of the group put on a mask of new manager Mayumi. This kind of staging is a “standard formula” in draft photography, allowing viewers to immediately recognize that it is Hanshin’s first pick by showing the manager’s face in the frame.

 

Kogaito made a costly mistake.

 

Although he captured the first-round pick smiling and raising his arms in celebration, the new manager’s mask was not in the frame. Given that all the media outlets were shooting simultaneously, one might expect at least one shot to have captured it. But in the tension and confusion of photographing a first-round selection, his attention never even reached the mask.

 

As soon as he sent the photos, the company called him.

 

“Is there no lower part of this photo?”

 

“Isn’t someone wearing Mayumi’s mask?”

 

It was an angry call from the desk editor, who had checked other outlets’ photos online.

 

Just like in reporting, a photo that only one’s own company manages to capture is highly valued in the world of photography as an “exclusive scoop.” On the other hand, when only one’s own company misses an important shot, it is called a “missed scoop,” and harsh consequences await.

 

The next morning’s edition featured the celebratory photo of him being lifted up on his teammates’ shoulders on the front page, but the “missed scoop” of Mayumi’s mask led to him being repeatedly reprimanded even after returning to the office.

 

However, the Sponichi desk gave him another chance the next day. The first-round pick was scheduled to pitch in a practice game, and all the outlets were going to cover it. Kogaito was assigned as the photographer for the assignment.

 

Kogaito was able to capture both the “standard formula” shot of the pitcher on the mound and softer, more relaxed images of the player’s expression. Photographers from other outlets were also shooting similar moments.

 

Photographers from other outlets, who had the “standard formula” firmly in mind, seemed satisfied with getting acceptable shots and headed back. However, Kogaito had one more frame he was aiming for. So he stayed behind alone.

 

Actually, in a game before the draft, he had noticed that the brim of this player’s cap had the words “Japan No. 1” written on it.

 

After confirming that no other photographers were around, he cautiously called out to the player.

 

“May I take some photos?”

 

The player readily agreed.

 

Kogaito crouched low, positioning himself at an angle where the “Japan No. 1” written on the brim of the cap would be visible, and captured the player playing catch.

 

He felt he had gotten a good shot. After sending the photo to the office, the desk editor called him.

 

“That’s a good photo.”

 

For the first time since being assigned to the role, Kogaito felt a sense of fulfillment.

 

And he thought to himself:

 

“There are photos that can be valued even if they don’t follow the standard formula. I’ll try to compete with this approach”

 

However, pursuing his own independent style carried a high risk when it didn’t work out.

 

He went out to assignments and shot from his own positions and angles, but kept having days where nothing “clicked.” He should have at least secured the standard shots, but he wasn’t even doing that. He couldn’t get the photos he was told to take, nor the ones he aimed for… Even his seniors began to distance themselves, saying, “I don’t want to teach you anymore.”

 

He was increasingly being labeled within the company as a difficult photographer to work with.

 

Even so, Kogaito stubbornly refused to change his style.

 

“I suppose I was being stubborn. I’m naturally competitive, so I couldn’t bring myself to change my own approach after making mistakes and being criticized. Since I was made a sports photographer, if I had just gotten used to handling the lens properly and gone into the field with the standard shots and basic formulas in mind, I probably wouldn’t have made any major mistakes. And yet, despite lacking the necessary skills, I was a stubborn photographer with high aspirations. But somewhere deep down, I kept thinking, ‘Just you wait and see,’ with the mindset that I would capture photos only I could take, and I always went into the field with that in mind.”

 

After a little over a year since being assigned as a photographer, Kogaito was removed from the Tigers beat and reassigned to horse racing coverage.

 

Horse racing is also one of the popular, high-profile subjects in sports newspapers. However, within the Osaka media world, a young photographer being moved from the Tigers beat to horse racing coverage was by no means considered a promotion.

 

“I was shocked.”

 

In his disappointment, Kogaito began spending his days commuting to the Ritto Training Center, a Japan Racing Association facility in Ritto City, Shiga Prefecture.

 

2.3 After a second stint covering the Tigers, finally heading to Tokyo

 

Spoiler

The Ritto Training Center, frequently visited by Osaka-based horse racing reporters, is a major media hub for covering the sport, housing numerous racehorses and featuring track-style training facilities.

 

In Osaka-based media, known for its “Hanshin supremacy,” the horse racing desk has a somewhat more relaxed atmosphere. When Kogaito was removed from the Tigers beat and, in disappointment, began commuting to Ritto, he was warmly welcomed by a veteran photographer from another newspaper.

 

Even in horse racing coverage, there are various unique rules. To avoid startling the horses, one must not stand behind them, must not move suddenly, and must not put them under stress. Reporters and photographers covering Ritto can be seen as a closely knit group working almost as one. Within this kind of close-knit community, it was this photographer who meticulously taught the youngest and most inexperienced Kogaito the unwritten rules of Ritto.

 

He was also highly skilled as a photographer. While photographing horses, his images captured the changing seasons of Ritto and carried a remarkable sense of artistry.

 

For Kogaito, who disliked being spoken to in a forceful, overbearing manner, this senior photographer rarely said much, yet still took him along to various assignments. Above all, he was soft-spoken, but possessed a strong sense of professional pride and determination.

 

Many of the photos he took left Kogaito deeply impressed, but unlike the “formulaic” shots he had been forced into during his time on the Tigers beat, each one was full of originality.

 

Of course, even sports newspaper photography of horse racing has its own “formula.” For example, during training sessions, the standard shot is basically a horse running.

 

However, this senior photographer did not seem to be bound by that. His photos made the horses’ coats appear to shine, and he was also particular about “exposure,” the amount of light captured by the lens.

 

How can a horse be made to look beautiful? Even when the horse isn't running, even when it's walking or just standing, a beautiful photograph of a horse can still stand out on the page. For Kogaito, he was a photographer he wanted to emulate.

 

In fact, the photos Kogaito took with careful attention to lighting and background were accepted within the Sponichi company, even if they were not the standard “running” shots. While being inspired by the senior photographer, he gradually regained trust within the company through the photos he produced.

 

Then, in January 2012, Kogaito was called back to the Tigers beat once again.

 

On his second stint as a Tigers beat photographer, he resolved to change his approach.

 

“At first, I was far too reckless. I wondered why sports photography had a ‘formula’ in the first place. Before deciding whether it was good or bad, I realized I needed to understand that ‘formula’ first. In reality, those ‘formula’ shots are by no means easy to take. They require skill and experience, and they are a tradition passed down continuously by senior photographers. At the beginning, I was rejecting something I couldn’t even do myself. I realized that was wrong. I don't dislike my rebellious side, but I decided I wanted to become a photographer who could do the basics properly and still take photos that were different from others. To build that ability, during my second stint on the Tigers beat, I focused entirely on shooting ‘standard’ shots.”

 

Tigers beat photographers work as a team. They are divided into four positions: behind the backstop, first base side, third base side, and center field back, each aiming for the perfect shot.

 

As Kogaito continued to take "standard" photos, he began to gain a certain level of recognition within the company. This gave him a sense of ease. With a touch of playfulness, he started to incorporate photos that deviated from the "standard" into his submissions. These photos gradually increased in number.

 

On June 1, 2013, about a year and a half after returning to the Tigers beat, the moment came when he decided to take a gamble.

 

That day, Kogaito was positioned behind center field, aiming his lens from the center-field-back shooting position.

 

The primary role of the center-field-back photographer is to capture the batter using a telephoto lens.

 

Rather than pointing the lens at the ball, the mission is to continuously track the batter and keep the lens focused on him. From the center-field position, the batter can always be kept in view. The other three photographers are able to operate independently on the assumption that there is coverage from the center-field-back position.

 

At one point, a sharply hit ground ball from the opposing team’s batter was driven between second base and shortstop.

 

Kogaito’s assigned role was to continue photographing the batter as he ran after the hit, starting from the moment of contact.

 

However, after capturing the moment of contact, Kogaito immediately shifted his focus to the direction of the ball. Hanshin shortstop Takashi Toritani made a diving leap to make the catch. The camera locked perfectly onto Toritani’s dynamic, full-of-motion display of grit.

 

In truth, it was against the rules. If the batter had tripped and been injured while running, Sponichi would not have been able to capture that moment.

 

However, he took the shot despite the risk because he had repeatedly practiced his camera work in advance, anticipating this exact moment.

 

“If I’m going to do it, it’s now or never.”

 

Kogaito made up his mind and broke free from the “standard.” The photograph taken from the center-field camera position, capturing the moment the shortstop made his diving leap, was something even the company’s veteran photographers could not recall ever having seen before.

 

The decisive shot was used as a two- to three-page spread in the next morning’s paper. Even the desk editor acknowledged it, saying, “You finally did it.”

 

“Once you’ve built up a track record, it becomes easier to aim for the next thing. The kinds of photos I go for are also more readily accepted. Before, I think I was too stiff and trying too hard, even though I hadn’t achieved any results.”

 

In 2014, he devoted himself to covering the Hanshin Tigers. As a Tigers beat photographer, he continued to deliver the “standard” shots without fail, while also getting some of his more distinctive work published.

 

In February of that year, the Sochi Winter Olympics were being held.

 

About two months before the start of the professional baseball season, Kogaito only vaguely recalled seeing in the newspaper that Yuzuru Hanyu had won Japan’s first-ever Olympic gold medal in men’s figure skating, and regarded it as news from a distant world.

 

However, the photographers who were making their mark at the Sochi Olympics were mostly of the same generation as him. A mix of envy and the sense that “this has nothing to do with me” swirled within him as he tried to face the Hanshin Tigers in front of him.

 

As long as he continued working as a photographer in Osaka, being assigned to the Tigers beat was also proof that his abilities were recognized.

 

However, it was also true that he was gradually losing interest in the routine of professional baseball, which began with off-season contract negotiations and voluntary training, followed by spring training, exhibition games, the regular season, and, if the team advanced, the postseason.

 

“I think photographers who keep covering the Tigers for a long time are amazing. But I’m the type who constantly seeks new stimulation. That’s why it became hard for me to keep covering the Tigers all the time. When I joined the company, there were reporters and photographers who aspired to be on the Tigers beat, but I wasn’t one of them.”

 

He wanted to see other worlds. Gradually, he began to feel confined by the “village-like community” of the Tigers beat reporters.

 

“I thought that if I stayed in Osaka, I’d have fewer chances to cover events like the Olympics or the FIFA World Cup. That’s why my desire to go to Tokyo, to take on the challenge in Tokyo, grew stronger.”

 

He kept writing “Tokyo” in his transfer requests. However, nothing changed for a long time. In May 2015, he once again told his superior that he wanted to go to Tokyo. Finally, the company responded to the determination of Kogaito, who had built up a track record on the Tigers beat. In the regular personnel reshuffle effective October 1 of that year, his wish was finally granted.

 

2.4 From desk duty at the Rio Olympics to covering the PyeongChang Olympics

 

Spoiler

At the Tokyo head office, he initially had no fixed assignment and joined a group known as the ‘roving unit,’ which was dispatched to understaffed locations as needed.

 

In fact, on New Year’s Eve in 2015, Kogaito unexpectedly had his first opportunity to photograph Yuzuru Hanyu. It was customary for young photographers to be assigned to cover the year-end NHK Kohaku Uta Gassen. Kogaito was assigned to this event, and when he arrived at NHK Hall in Tokyo, he found Hanyu appearing as a guest judge, dressed in a hakama (traditional Japanese formal attire).

 

"So this is the young Olympic champion."

 

Kogaito pointed his lens at him with admiration. At the time, however, he had no way of knowing that Hanyu would later dramatically change the course of his career as a photographer for the better.

 

Assignments and postings at sports newspapers typically change in January each year.

 

For the three months leading up to January 2016, Kogaito worked as a roving reporter, covering a variety of assignments. Compared with his time in Osaka, when he had focused exclusively on the Hanshin Tigers, the scope of his reporting expanded considerably.

 

Soon after his transfer in 2015, he made his first overseas reporting trip, covering an international baseball tournament held in Taiwan.

 

As 2016 began, the Rio de Janeiro Olympics were fast approaching that summer. It was the first time the Olympics would be held in South America, and Kogaito secretly hoped to be sent to Rio. His decision to request a transfer was driven in part by his desire to get to Tokyo as early as possible with the Rio Olympics in mind.

 

The editors at the Tokyo headquarters probably had their doubts as well. What kind of photographs would Kogaito produce, and could a photographer who had spent almost all his time covering the Hanshin Tigers be trusted to handle other sports? They likely wanted him to gain experience at a variety of assignments as a roving reporter so they could assess the quality of his work and determine what he was capable of.

 

Reflecting on Kogaito at the time, Nagakubo said with a wry smile, “He was a capable photographer, but I didn’t see much individuality in him. Maybe he was still holding back.”

 

For Kogaito, covering a new sport for the first time was refreshing.

 

Before going to a shoot, he had to familiarize himself with the rules and characteristics of the sport. He would research the movements and traits of athletes likely to be featured in articles, their specialties and preferred strategies, their individual quirks, and past data. He would then internalize what positions to take, what angles to shoot from, and what moments to capture.

 

Of course, he also had to be prepared for unexpected moments in the field, but preparation beforehand was just as important.

 

In January 2016, Kogaito was not selected as a member of the on-site reporting team for the Rio Olympics.

 

He felt a sense of frustration, wondering if he had been judged as not yet capable of handling sports other than baseball. He also felt a sense of inferiority about his limited range, having only really photographed baseball and horse racing. Compared to himself, who had come from Osaka, photographers of his generation in Tokyo who were active across the world seemed dazzling.

 

Being selected for an Olympic reporting team is, in a sense, the most prestigious assignment for a sports newspaper photographer. You wouldn't be selected unless you were highly regarded within the company.

 

In fact, one of the photographers originally scheduled for the on-site reporting team was a colleague of his generation. However, that colleague ended up resigning before the trip to Rio. Even so, Kogaito was not chosen as a replacement. Instead, the role went to a veteran photographer with extensive Olympic experience.

 

“I think there was still no room for newcomers like me yet,” he said.

 

Until the summer of 2016, qualification tournaments for Japan’s Olympic team for the Rio Games were in full swing domestically. Kogaito was also sent to cover events such as swimming and women’s soccer.

 

Looking back at the photos from that time, Kogaito reflects:

 

“Hmm. I was still shooting like a baseball photographer. It was more like sports photography focused on specific scenes. Goals, key moments you absolutely can’t miss, what you might call ‘defensive photography,’ I suppose. Now I have more room to aim for photos that focus on the drama and stories of the athletes, but back then my photos were simply about documenting what was happening on the field. At the time, I thought I was just as good, that I could take decent photos if selected, but looking back now, I realize I still had a lot to improve on. I suppose the company’s decision was probably correct,” he says with a laugh.

 

What does it mean to photograph a story?

 

“For example, in soccer, the scene of players celebrating after a goal is a standard shot, but it still makes for a great picture. It’s a classic “template” image, and if you capture that alone, it can complete a newspaper page. If you get that shot, you won’t be reprimanded by your editor; conversely, if you miss it, you’ll be in trouble. In a sense, it’s an essential part of sports newspaper reporting. But nowadays, when I point my camera at a soccer match, I’m not only focused on goal scenes. I also shoot players warming up, or the moment they step onto the pitch as the match begins. Being on-site allows me to capture a wide range of moments, and as media, we can also photograph things that ordinary spectators never get to see. I think that the expressions on the players’ faces there, revealing their inner determination and resolve, carry a kind of story.”

 

What thoughts and feelings do athletes carry as they step onto the Olympic stage to face competition? Their sporting careers are filled with emotions that cannot be put into words. Some athletes feel gratitude toward their families, mentors, and those who have supported them, while others may step into competition alone, in complete solitude. He seeks to uncover each athlete’s story through a single photograph, capturing expressions of determination that embody their innermost thoughts.

 

During the Rio Olympics period, he worked in the office rather than in the field. He spent his time reviewing an overwhelming number of photographs continuously sent in from his own company, wire services, and overseas agencies, cropping images and adding captions for those to be used in the newspaper, carrying out a steady stream of routine, menial tasks.

 

There was no time to sulk. While looking at the photos that kept coming in, he constantly asked himself how he would have taken them. He also studied photos from other companies that were being uploaded online.

 

Gradually, and not just as a form of bravado, he began to feel, “Isn’t this something anyone could have shot if they were there?” That feeling came from the realization that the “standard” photos he had been made acutely aware of during his days covering the Hanshin Tigers also existed in Olympic sports, and that a media-wide tendency to accept such standardization as the norm prevailed. When photos of gold medalists were sent in, they all seemed more or less identical.

 

At the same time, he was also made acutely aware of the presence of major media organizations with vast financial resources and influence at the Olympic venues.

 

For example, there was a photo circulated by overseas media when Kosuke Hagino won the gold medal in the men’s 400-meter individual medley. Captured by a remote camera mounted on the ceiling, it showed him floating on his back in the water, his face beaming with joy, as if reveling in the sweet taste of victory.

 

“Even if I had been on-site, I think my photo position would have been poolside. Even if I had pointed my lens from there, I wouldn’t have been able to see Kosuke Hagino’s expression as he lay facing up toward the ceiling, let alone capture it. The Olympics aren’t a level playing field for all media. Media organizations with financial backing, a proven track record, and global influence are given priority when it comes to photo positions. I realized that if I were to cover the Olympics, I would have to compete with these global media giants. To do that, I would have to compensate for my lack of financial resources with ingenuity, and I would need to be far more thorough in my preparation. I took that lesson to heart. In that sense, although it was frustrating, I think working in the office was a very valuable experience.”

 

After the Rio Olympics, sports media organizations began reorganizing their reporting teams with an eye toward the next two years. In 2018, there would be the FIFA World Cup, and just before that, the Winter Olympics were scheduled for February in PyeongChang, South Korea.

 

After the Rio Olympics, Kogaito began to be sent to soccer assignments more frequently. This was part of preparation for the World Cup. Then, another assignment was announced in January 2017.

 

“Next Winter Olympics, I want you to go.”

 

Nagakubo stated this clearly.

 

For Kogaito, it was the moment he was finally given the lead Olympic assignment he had long hoped for.

 

2.5 A new "company photographer" in the figure skating world

 

Spoiler

In February 2017, Gangneung, South Korea, was enveloped in bitter cold. It is a city on South Korea’s east coast, about 220 kilometers east of Seoul, known for its beautiful beaches along the Sea of Japan.

 

The city was scheduled to host the figure skating events of the Winter Olympics in February 2018. By the time of the Games, it would be connected to Seoul via Korea’s high-speed rail (KTX), but at this point, a year earlier, transportation options were still limited mainly to express buses and similar services.

 

With the Olympics set to take place the following year, the Four Continents Figure Skating Championships were held at the Gangneung Ice Arena, serving as a test event for the Olympic venue.

 

For the athletes, experiencing the Olympic rink and becoming accustomed to the local environment was a significant advantage. In men’s figure skating as well, top skaters gathered, including Yuzuru Hanyu, who was aiming for the first consecutive Olympic gold medal by a male skater in 66 years.

 

From this event onward, Kogaito, who had been assigned to cover figure skating, began to seriously step up his reporting.

 

Kogaito, who had been assigned to cover the PyeongChang Olympics, was designated to primarily cover skating events as a whole. This included not only figure skating, but also speed skating and short track, and he was prepared to assist with ski events held in the mountains as well.

 

Three years earlier, Kogaito had regarded the Sochi Olympics as something from a “distant world,” but by this time he was of course aware of the existence of the absolute champion.

 

After winning gold at the Sochi Olympics, Hanyu went on to demonstrate overwhelming dominance.

 

In the 2015-16 season, he delivered an extraordinary performance at the NHK Trophy, incorporating two quadruple jumps in his short program, a first for him. He surpassed his own world record score set at the Sochi Olympics and also set new world records in the free skate and the combined total.

 

Just two weeks later at the Grand Prix Final, he once again broke the world record scores in the short program, free skate, and combined total.

 

In the following 2016–17 season, he became the first to land a quadruple loop in an ISU-sanctioned competition and went on to win a fourth consecutive Grand Prix Final title. He was clearly the overwhelming favorite for the PyeongChang Olympic gold medal.

 

As a sports photographer covering the PyeongChang Olympics, Kogaito began to earnestly wish, “I want to photograph Hanyu.” At the same time, he also felt the heavy pressure of how to capture a skater of such remarkable caliber.

 

Figure skating coverage at Sponichi had long been dominated by Nagakubo, who was then the department head.

 

“By approaching figure skating as a sport and directing the lens accordingly, Nagakubo built his position and became a photographer who earned the support of skating fans.”

 

The world of photography is a craftsman’s world, but Nagakubo was very supportive of others. Photographers working for newspapers are called “sha-kame” (company photographers), and while they are craftsmen in spirit, they are also ordinary salaried employees. However, this is a field where corporate norms often matter little, and there is almost no formal handover from predecessors.

 

Nagakubo was different.

 

The world of figure skating photographers also has its own “factions.” There are freelance photographers, photographers affiliated with photo agencies, and those employed by magazine publishers. Even within newspapers, there are photographers for general papers and for sports newspapers. The types of photographs they aim to capture can differ completely depending on the characteristics of each medium.

 

In most sports journalism settings, the majority of photographers are employed by newspapers, magazines, or other media companies. However, the world of figure skating is unusual in that it includes a significant number of freelance photographers. This reflects the high value placed on figure skating photography.

 

Among freelance photographers who rely solely on their skills, some view “company photographers,” who receive a fixed monthly salary regardless of whether they take good photos or not, with hostility.

 

The subject at the time was Yuzuru Hanyu, a superstar who transcended the boundaries of figure skating and had a large fan base both in Japan and abroad. Figure skating photography attracted intense attention; a single photograph could bring immense recognition, but a poorly executed shot could quickly damage a photographer’s reputation.

 

Nagakubo skillfully built relationships within the world of photography, regardless of whether they were freelancers or company photographers. He also patiently taught Kogaito about the world of figure skating coverage. He introduced him to so-called veteran photographers, freelance photographers working on-site, and photographers affiliated with various media outlets, helping to create an environment where reporting could be carried out more smoothly.

 

Nagakubo was a highly respected photographer within the company. He was not the type to shout, but his words sometimes carried a sense of weight and strictness.

 

Originally, he was a photographer who made his name not in sports but in social affairs reporting. He had taken a number of scoop photos at scenes such as the Aum Shinrikyo incident. In photography, there are “close-up” shots that focus on the subject and “wide” shots that capture the entire scene; Nagakubo excelled at using wide shots, skillfully fitting a great deal of information into a single frame.

 

Kogaito describes Nagakubo’s sports photographs as “photographs with a perspective.” When he was working in an office role at the company, among the large volume of photos coming in from the field, there were often individual shots that would suddenly catch his eye, and they were frequently credited to Nagakubo Yutaka. Nagakubo was not only skilled in photography but also in writing, and his figure skating columns had their own following.

 

Because Nagakubo was highly respected and a skilled photographer, Kogaito initially found him somewhat difficult to deal with.

 

“Even within Sponichi, figure skating was basically synonymous with Nagakubo. I was just coming in later. It felt like I was intruding on Nagakubo’s territory.”

 

Kogaito made a point of showing up in the press room earlier than anyone else. He actively greeted anyone he saw, not just the photographers he had been introduced to.

 

Many people would say to him, “Nagakubo has always taken good care of me,” once again making him aware of Nagakubo’s influence.

 

With only one year remaining until the PyeongChang Olympics, it was by no means enough time. While feeling the presence of his great senior colleague, the newcomer Kogaito’s battle toward the PyeongChang Olympics was beginning.

 

 

 

*Alternative CN translations

https://m.weibo.cn/status/5113578597650271
https://m.weibo.cn/status/5113595229372539  
https://m.weibo.cn/status/5113651992201994

[yuzurujenn]

*Machine translation. Inaccuracies may exist*

 

 

Chapter 3: Resistance

 

3.1 A photo position looking one year ahead

 

Spoiler

With his slender build, gentle features, and a clean-cut image marked by an almost translucent purity, Hanyu exudes an air of grace. Yet the moment he steps onto the ice, he instantly transforms into a fierce competitor. In the unique world of figure skating, where artistry is valued as highly as athletic ability, Hanyu becomes the very embodiment of an athlete when victory is on the line. Before a performance, he heightens his concentration in an instant and enters the zone. He erupts with joy after a performance that goes exactly as planned, while a performance that falls short of his expectations brings a wry smile tinged with frustration.

 

“The Olympics for Hanyu.” That was how the PyeongChang Olympics were sometimes described, as Hanyu, the undisputed champion who reigned supreme and dominated in popularity, aimed to become the first man in 66 years to win back-to-back Olympic gold medals in men’s figure skating.

 

Photographer Kogaito was prepared for it as well.

 

“Since this was my long-awaited opportunity to cover the Olympics, I wanted to capture a photograph that would symbolize the PyeongChang Olympics.”

 

The goal was to capture the moment Hanyu won the gold medal. But simply showing him celebrating would be too formulaic. What kind of photograph could he take instead? He still had a year until the actual Games. The 2017 Four Continents Championships, held at the Olympic venue, served as the perfect rehearsal for photographers.

 

Before departing for South Korea, Kogaito thoroughly reviewed past photographs of Hanyu. He had never photographed figure skating before. With the season already past its halfway point, he went back over the programs of that season through videos and photos, committing every detail of the performances to memory: where each jump was executed, what kind of steps were performed, and where the spins took place. Even the positions on the ice where Hanyu had shown certain expressions at past competitions were all recorded.

 

At major competitions, photographers typically press the shutter as many as 10,000 times in a single day. Not every shot is in focus or properly captured, but all of the photo data they take is stored and shared within internal company folders.

 

In the Olympic pre-season, Hanyu’s short program was set to “Let’s Go Crazy” by American rock icon Prince, while his free skate was performed to the piano piece “Hope & Legacy.” From the Sponichi internal archive, he went through roughly 1,000 photos of the short program, and about 1,200 from the longer free skate.

 

Kogaito, who had photographed a wide range of sports, stated bluntly that figure skating is “an easy sport to shoot.” The reason is simple: there is only one skater on the ice.

 

“Unlike team sports, you only need to follow a single skater throughout and keep shooting. Moreover, since autofocus handles most of the work, there’s no need to adjust focus manually. Looking at the images in the folder at the time, I felt that, from a purely technical standpoint, it doesn’t require particularly advanced photographic skill.”

 

Having said that, Kogaito added:

 

“That’s precisely why a photographer’s sense is so important. What kind of photos you take, which moments you aim for? I realized it’s a sport where perspective matters more than technique.”

 

Even so, as he reviewed the photo data, Kogaito already began to feel a sense of unease.

 

“All the photos looked somewhat similar, or rather, I kept checking them while thinking there must be other ways to shoot this.”

 

Small thumbnail images are displayed on the computer screen. You select the ones that catch your eye and enlarge them for closer inspection, but even at the thumbnail stage, they already looked like a “collection of similar photos.”

 

“Most of the shots were full-body images taken from the upper stands with the ice rink in the background. I thought this was the ‘standard’ or ‘classic’ figure skating photograph.”

 

Of course, this doesn’t mean the photographers on site are cutting corners.

 

To capture a figure skating performance in a single photograph, it’s essential to show the skates, costume, and the skater’s expression, as well as the sense that they are gliding on ice. A full-body shot with the rink in the background can be considered the ideal form, encompassing all the elements of figure skating. As Kogaito says, it is a “classic shot.”

 

Moreover, photographers at the time also adhered to established “standard positions.” In Japanese, this is called joseki, a term from the game of Go referring to sequences of moves that have been extensively studied and are considered optimal. In figure skating photography, the standard was simple: the short program was photographed from high in the stands, and the free skate from rinkside at ice level.

 

In the short program, which has a shorter performance time, photographers prioritize efficiency, aiming for full-body shots of the skater against the ice to secure visually striking images. In the free skate, however, photographers allow themselves a bit more “creativity.” From rinkside, they alternate between wide shots and close-ups, using distance and perspective to add depth and dimension. By combining high-angle shots for the short program with low-angle shots for the free skate, they produce figure skating images that meet a satisfactory standard.

 

This tradition in figure skating photography had been handed down over many years. As a result, even when photographers changed due to transfers or reshuffling, the images published across newspapers showed little variation and remained remarkably “stable.”

 

Kogaito, while questioning whether there might be other ways to photograph figure skating, went to the Four Continents Championships as a learning opportunity, intending first to observe the sport up close. He also reflected on his past as a baseball reporter, when he had pursued his ideals too far. He wanted to understand what figure skating truly was, and how to photograph Hanyu, the absolute champion who reigned over this world. With the Olympics a year ahead in mind, he had already made one decision.

 

That decision was to photograph both the short program and the free skate from the stands.

 

Normally, shooting from rinkside offers greater freedom. At this event, photographers were even allowed to shoot the free skate from rinkside.

 

But the Olympics would be different. Far more media outlets from Japan and abroad would be on site than at this Four Continents Championships.

 

It was unlikely that the popular rinkside positions would be allocated to Japanese sports newspapers. If that was the case, then he needed to find a good position in the upper stands from which to photograph the free skate as well. The battle, with one year ahead in mind, had already begun.

 

3.2 The "gaze" of the absolute champion omitted from the Tokyo edition

 

Spoiler

"Hanyu Returns to Competition After Two Months, Falls Short of a Flawless Skate, Starts in 3rd After Short Program: 'I'm Disappointed.'"

 

The February 18, 2017 morning edition of Sponichi featured that headline accompanied by a photograph of Hanyu with his right index finger beside his head, wearing a look of frustration.

 

Kogaito recalls:

 

“It was the moment Hanyu made a mistake in his performance, and his frustration surfaced. It only lasted an instant, but I felt his raw emotions had become visible through that gesture. I thought it was a photograph that came close to his state of mind on the ice, so I pressed the shutter.”

 

Upon arriving at the venue on February 13, Kogaito followed Hanyu’s every move. He captured Hanyu’s arrival at Incheon International Airport, continuing to take photographs from the airport lobby until he got into his car.

 

The level of attention surrounding him was evident even before Hanyu landed at the airport. Not only Japanese fans, but also overseas fans, including those from South Korea, were waiting for his arrival, with some holding banners in a show of passionate support.

 

Hanyu, wearing a face mask, appeared strikingly slender, his remarkably pale skin leaving a strong impression. Photographers simultaneously turned their lenses toward him, while reporters walked alongside, seeking comments.

 

The following day's practice session on the 14th was held on the main competition rink. Kogaito, covering figure skating for the first time, focused on capturing Hanyu's movements on the ice while also submitting wide-angle shots of him.

 

“At that time, it was an Olympic test event, and the intention was to let readers know that Hanyu was practicing on the actual Olympic competition rink. If we took a close-up of Hanyu, it would be impossible to tell whether the venue was Gangneung or a rink in Japan. So this shot was intended to clearly indicate that it was an Olympic venue. However, looking back now, it was still a photograph taken from the perspective of standard sports reporting.”

 

Kogaito himself was still conflicted.

What kind of photographs are actually expected in figure skating?

 

As a result, even for the short program on the 17th, he chose and submitted photographs that reflected the outcome of the performance.

 

At this time, Hanyu opened with a near-perfect quadruple loop, and later earned the maximum GOE of +3 on his triple Axel in the second half of the program. However, his second quadruple Salchow turned into a double, leaving him in third place.

 

“I chose photographs that, in my own way, conveyed movement. But I was still working strictly from the perspective of sports reporting. As I continued photographing Hanyu, I gradually began to develop my own originality, but that was still far in the future. At that point, if the performance went well, I would select photos that conveyed joy, and if there were mistakes, I would submit images of falls or of his frustrated expressions. I was still a junior photographer, so I wasn’t in a position to tell the editors which of my submitted photos should be used.”

 

In the end, the newspaper chose the photograph of Hanyu looking frustrated, reflecting his competition result.

 

In the free skate, he made a mistake on a quadruple jump in the second half, but still landed four quads and scored a season-best 206.67 points. He won the free skate and finished second overall.

 

In Sponichi’s edition that day, the main photograph on the page showed Hanyu performing a jump.

 

The headline read, “The Era of Five Quadruple Jumps Is in Sight.” In conveying the quality of the free skate, Sponichi’s headline was strikingly clear. The accompanying photograph wasn’t chosen based on what Kogaito had taken, but rather to complement the article.

 

From the standpoint of a sports newspaper, it was the obvious editorial choice. But Kogaito wished they had chosen a different photograph. He had felt Hanyu’s greatness firsthand at the venue.

 

Why is a beautifully executed quadruple jump considered a model? At a time when some insiders derided the growing variety of quadruple jumps as a “jump contest,” he was shown the essence of performance that emphasizes artistry and expression as well.

 

For the first time, when he pointed his lens at the absolute champion in an official competition, Kogaito was unable to express the reigning champion’s strength and greatness in either photographs or words.

Still, he recalls saying, somewhat vaguely, “I understood that Hanyu was an amazing skater.”

 

At the same time, in men’s figure skating on the road to the PyeongChang Olympics, led by the undisputed champion Hanyu, he also took note of another skater chasing his back. It was Nathan Chen, the American rising star who had won the Four Continents Championships.

 

The battle for the gold medal between Hanyu, who leads the way, and Chen, who is chasing from behind, seemed likely to begin in earnest with their encounter at this Four Continents Championships. That was the feeling he had.

 

How, one wondered, did Hanyu view Chen, who was performing the highly difficult quadruple Lutz in combination?

 

Kogaito became curious. So, during the medal ceremony, he made an unexpected move.

 

At medal ceremonies, the position directly in front is considered the “correct” spot for photographers. It allows them to capture the athletes’ expressions as medals are placed around their necks. It also provides a clear view of the faces of those standing on the podium. Naturally, every other photographer lined up there.

 

However, Kogaito intentionally stood diagonally behind the podium instead.

 

Why did he aim his lens from a position that could not be called the “correct” one? In fact, he had a clear objective.

 

While it was impossible to capture the skaters head-on, he believed this was the only position from which he could photograph Hanyu directing his gaze toward Chen.

 

He gave up the frontal shot. If the desk asked for it, he would likely be met with another unhappy reaction. And if they ended up using a photo from an affiliated news agency, it would defeat the purpose of sending their own photographer in the first place. Still, Kogaito prioritized his own intention.

 

What kind of gaze would the absolute champion Hanyu direct toward Chen—? He told himself that this was precisely the kind of shot that could only be captured by a photographer on site, making that judgment in the moment.

 

Before stepping onto the podium, Hanyu warmly congratulated Chen and shook his hand with a gentle expression.

 

It was a moment that revealed the greatness of “Hanyu the man,” as he showed respect to the winning skater. The two then embraced, and for an instant their gazes parted.

 

At that moment, Hanyu’s instincts as an athlete were awakened. Even as he sincerely praised his opponent, he could not suppress the frustration of having failed to achieve the result he wanted.

 

“Hanyu had a look in his eyes that seemed both frustrated and filled with a fighting spirit, as if determined not to lose next time. I have photographed many athletes and sports figures over the years, but I felt that Hanyu was something special. Seeing his gaze through the lens, I felt I had to prepare myself for the fact that I would be photographing an extraordinary athlete from now on.”

 

Back then, it was not yet common to actively publish breaking news online. Kogaito carefully selected his photos. From among them, he decided, “I’ll send this one,” and sent a photograph of the two shaking hands.

 

“Not a handshake photo, but one that captures Hanyu’s gaze.” Hoping that his intention would be understood, he pressed the send button.

 

The Osaka head office edition used this photograph. However, the response in Tokyo was different. The editor-in-charge called after seeing the photo.

 

“Send us a jumping photo.”

 

He felt a sense of powerlessness. It wasn’t the editor’s fault. He wondered if things might have been different had his own photographs been more distinctive. He had known the piece would be about jumps, and he understood that using a jumping photo alongside a jumping article was a standard formula for creating a clear, reader-friendly page.

 

Still, Kogaito felt a deep sense of frustration.

“What I felt at the venue wasn’t about the jumps. This isn’t it.”

To overturn the choice of photograph for the page, he would have had to persuade the editor-in-charge.

 

However, at the time, Kogaito did not yet have the track record or influence within the company. He did suggest, “I think the handshake photo is better,” but he could not bring himself to say, “Please use this one.” He says he still cannot forget how he felt then. Suppressing his frustration, he sent the “jumping photo” that would become the main image for the Tokyo edition.

 

After returning home, he looked through photographs published in other newspapers and magazines. He assumed that other photographers were also going through his own images in the same way.

 

“In the world of photography, results are everything. Only when a photo is published in a newspaper does it become clear what kind of images you were actually taking. Even if I say there were more carefully crafted photos in my files or in the Osaka edition, those are nothing but excuses. The photos I thought were good were not used in the Tokyo edition. I couldn’t present them in print. In Sponichi, Kogaito’s free skate coverage became ‘jump photos.’ At the awards ceremony, there may have been photographers who wondered, ‘Why is Kogaito standing diagonally behind the podium?’ but at most they probably thought, ‘Did he miss his target?’ I couldn’t show in the Tokyo edition the fleeting expression of Hanyu as a ‘competitor’ that I glimpsed through my lens. That was deeply frustrating.”

 

When asked in retrospect how he would evaluate the Four Continents Championships in his own career, Kogaito prefaced his answer by saying, “I have never scored 100 points in my career as a photographer,” before calmly replying, “That time was about 20 points.”

 

“At the medal ceremony, I was able to take what I thought was a good photo from a non-standard position. It wasn’t published in the paper, but even so, I think I can give it 10 points. Also, I was able to shoot both the short program and the free skate from positions I had in mind for the actual Olympics. I'd give that a 10 in the sense that it laid the groundwork for a year later.”

 

He also said, “At that time, I still hadn’t fully captured Hanyu’s essence.”

 

“Taking photographs requires a photographer’s skill, of course, but the presence of the subject is also extremely important. Even looking back now, I don’t think I was able to capture Hanyu’s strengths or his appeal back then. He shows photographers many different ‘faces,’ and it’s because of those ‘faces’ that you start thinking about what kind of photos you should take and, in turn, grow as a photographer. Some people call me a ‘god,’ but I never started out with exceptional technical skill or a uniquely different approach. I believe I was able to grow as a photographer precisely because I had the opportunity to photograph Yuzuru Hanyu.”

 

Approximately one month later, at the World Championships held in Helsinki, the capital of Finland, Hanyu made a dramatic comeback from fifth place in the short program to reclaim his second world championship title in three years.

 

However, even then, Kogaito still had not been able to capture a photograph that truly conveyed Hanyu’s appeal.

 

Before he knew it, he was comparing his photos to those of other sports newspaper photographers, not entirely satisfied, but still taking pictures that weren't bad either.

 

Then, in the summer of 2017, just before the PyeongChang Olympic season began, Kogaito experienced a shock.

 

It was a shooting approach used by freelance photographers.

 

Covering Hanyu’s summer public practice sessions in Toronto was an annual tradition. That season, he was set to unveil the short program and free skate he would use in the Olympic season, attracting more attention than ever.

 

Kogaito also traveled to the Toronto Cricket Skating and Curling Club, Hanyu’s training base.

 

After arriving on the grounds, Hanyu got out of the car and slowly walked toward the rink entrance, pulling his suitcase behind him as members of the press waited.

 

A large number of photographers were waiting in front of the entrance for Hanyu’s arrival. Although it was his first assignment in Toronto and he was still unfamiliar with the situation, Kogaito avoided joining the crowd and instead pointed his lens from a slight distance.

 

As Hanyu walked toward them, a freelance photographer came into view directly in front of him. The photographer was crouched in a low position, aiming his lens at Hanyu.

 

In front of Hanyu was a flowerbed filled with brightly colored flowers. By keeping the flowers out of focus, one could capture a fresh, summery image of Hanyu.

 

Kogaito immediately understood the intention.

 

“So that’s where he’s shooting from.”

 

While newspapers would report on the open practice the following day, specialized magazines were published later. For that reason, freelance photographers shooting for magazines put great effort into their approach. They carefully refined every aspect—the perspective, the angle, and each individual frame.

 

As he observed with admiration how the photographer had carefully planned his position in advance, he noticed another freelance photographer further along the path Hanyu was walking. The photographer kept pressing the shutter, waiting for Hanyu to return his gaze and capturing the moment he smiled.

 

These were photographs that could only be taken by someone who had been photographing Hanyu for a long time and had earned his trust.

 

Kogaito was overwhelmed by a sense of defeat. He thought to himself:

 

“With Hanyu as a subject, I feel like I’ve been holding back in some way. I need to steel myself and face him head-on.”

 

 

3.3 A fateful shot taken at the Autumn Classic

 

Spoiler

September 22, 2017. Hanyu was in Montreal, Canada, competing in his first competition of the season, the Autumn Classic.

 

The season in which he would aim for a second consecutive Olympic gold medal was about to begin. Many media outlets from Japan had also come to cover the event.

 

He participated in official practice the day before, and there was another official practice on the day of the event, followed by the short program.

 

Hanyu’s short program for the Olympic season was Chopin’s "Ballade No. 1," a piece that had repeatedly broken the world record for highest score during the 2015–16 season and stunned audiences around the world. He brought that legendary program back for his Olympic campaign.

 

Hanyu’s opening competition of the Olympic season was overwhelming. He delivered a flawless performance, earning a perfect GOE of +3 on his opening quadruple salchow and his second-half triple axel (where the base value is multiplied by 1.1). He broke his own world record with 112.72 points, securing a commanding lead. Hanyu himself exuded a sense of accomplishment after his performance.

 

At times like this, sports newspapers typically follow a standard formula, pairing bold headlines such as ‘Overwhelming’ or ‘New World Record’ with a photo of the fiercely determined champion.

 

Even if it means disregarding the mood of the piano music and the overall atmosphere of the program, the aim is to clearly convey to readers that Hanyu, aiming for a second consecutive Olympic gold medal, has made a strong start with a superb performance.

 

Meanwhile, Kogaito was selecting photos from thumbnails, thinking, ‘Wouldn’t a photo in which you could almost hear the piano melody be fitting for “Ballade No. 1”?’

 

While Kogaito’s approach clashes with the sports newspapers’ standard formula, both share the same concern for how to make the subject look its best. However, their approaches are vastly different.”

 

While reviewing the photos he had taken on his computer screen, one particular image caught his eye.

 

Hanyu’s body formed a graceful, flowing curve.

 

It was a moment just before he entered the final step sequence. His outstretched fingers looked as if they were trying to grasp something. Hanyu’s expression, as he gazed up toward the sky, was captured in profile.

 

“In newspapers, front-facing photos are usually preferred, as they tend to make for better visuals. But this shot shows that Hanyu can be compelling even in profile.”

 

When Kogaito found this one photograph among the countless others he had reviewed, he kept looking at it again and again, thinking, ‘What a quiet, beautiful photograph.’”

 

“I had taken a photograph that I truly liked.”

 

And he was immediately overcome with the urge to have this photo published in the newspaper.

 

However, he knew it wouldn’t be easy. First, figure skating photos used in newspapers, whether of Hanyu or other skaters, tend to favor ‘strength, dynamism, and vibrancy.’ In general, they emphasize “motion.” But “Ballade No. 1” is, by nature, a more subdued, “still” program.

 

“I didn’t think it was right to ignore the tone of the music and forcibly use dynamic jumps or strained expressions. That wouldn’t properly express Hanyu’s ‘Ballade No. 1.’ In that sense, I thought that if I stayed faithful to the ‘stillness’ of ‘Ballade No. 1’ and continued shooting in that way, the appeal of the program and Hanyu himself would naturally be captured in the images.”

 

Amid all those shots he kept taking, there was one ‘miraculous shot.’

 

Kogaito said:

 

“When I was pressing the shutter, I didn’t realize I had captured that photo. It was just a fleeting moment I happened to catch while following Hanyu’s performance.”

 

But he quickly came back to reality.

 

“This photo probably won’t be used.”

 

Before coming to cover the Autumn Classic, Kogaito had four previous opportunities to photograph Hanyu: the Four Continents Championships in February 2017, the World Championships in March–April, where Hanyu made a dramatic comeback to reclaim the world title, the World Team Trophy held in Japan in April, and a public practice session in Toronto in August. Through these four occasions, he had come to understand what kinds of photos were favored within his company in figure skating coverage.

 

“I thought that photos like this wouldn’t be selected. I hoped to share within the company the world of ‘Ballade No. 1’ that I felt on site, but figure skating is both a sport and an art form, a unique competition where the two are fused. Sports newspaper readers also expect to be shown moments that are easy to understand.”

 

So Kogaito made a clear decision. He sent that photo first.

 

The transition from film cameras to digital cameras dramatically increased convenience for photographers.

 

Unlike film, photographers can immediately check what kind of shots they have taken. There is no cost for film, and they can keep pressing the shutter without fear of failure. As a result, at a single venue they may take hundreds or even thousands of shots, and only send a carefully selected few from among them.

 

From the photos selected and sent by the photographer, the editorial desk responsible for page layout within the company decides which ones to use. At times, the photo desk will consult with the desk in charge of the reporting department to choose images that best fit the article.

 

The photographer’s role is limited to carefully selecting the photos to send from the field. Expressing a strong message about which photo should be used would be considered an encroachment on the editorial desk’s role.

 

As a silent expression of intent, photographers in the field prioritize sending the photos they most want to be used first. Kogaito sent this photo of Hanyu first.

 

“I want to stake everything on this photo.” That was the message he conveyed. He also sent a backup photo of Hanyu performing a jump.

 

Nagakubo, the department head at the Sponichi Tokyo headquarters, was in the office. He was curious to see what kind of photos Kogaito, who had succeeded him, would send.

 

Then that photo arrived. Nagakubo was momentarily taken aback.

 

“Hanyu set a world record score in his first competition of the season. So I assumed we would receive a photo of him after the finish, with a triumphant ‘How’s that!’ expression. But Kogaito sent a photo with a different feel. Still, since it came first, I thought he probably wanted us to use it, so I called Canada to confirm. And he said, ‘Yes.’ If the people in the field wanted to use this photo to convey Hanyu’s charm, then I thought we should use it.”

 

The editor on duty that day decides which photos to use in the paper. Having once worked on-site as a photographer and now serving as an editor, Nagakubo could not simply overrule his junior.

 

“This is good,” Nagakubo muttered hesitantly as he looked at the first photo Kogaito had sent. The editor, though still uncertain, ultimately respected Kogaito’s intention.

 

After finishing sending the photos from the field, Kogaito returned to his hotel. He planned to get in touch shortly after the editors in Japan had started their workday.

 

The sports covered in the newspaper include baseball and soccer, as well as competitions and tournaments held across Japan and in various locations overseas, including Europe, where the time difference differs from that of North America and Canada.

 

Once the photos are in, editors also want to file them as quickly as possible, so calls are usually made shortly after they begin work.

 

A call came in. It was from the company.

 

With a tense expression, Kogaito asked, “How is it?”

 

After a brief pause, the editor gave an unexpected response.

“Nagakubo said, 'This is good.' We’ll use the first photo you sent.”

 

He could feel his heart pounding. That photo would be used. It would be published in the paper. Had Nagakubo spoken up for it? And had the editor also agreed?

 

The submitted articles and photos are assembled into the newspaper by the production desk, and eventually a proof identical to the next morning’s paper is produced.

 

At the proof stage, corrections and headline changes are made, and then the pages are sent to print in a process known as “going to press,” after which they leave the editorial department’s hands.

 

At the proof stage, the reporter who filed the article, the photographer, the desk of the reporting department, the photo desk, and senior editors responsible for that day’s edition all review it.

 

If anyone raises an objection, both the photos and the article are replaced.

 

Kogaito waited for the proof to be completed, eager to see the finished result.

 

He was overjoyed when he saw the proof on his computer. It was Hanyu’s season opener, and a strong start with a new world record score. It was placed as the front-page lead.

 

Amid the bold, flashy headline, the ‘quiet, beautiful’ photograph of Hanyu that Kogaito had hoped for was published.

 

Nagakubo later reflected with a wry smile:

 

“If Kogaito hadn’t been sent out to the field, we would never have used that kind of photo. Under the conventional standards of sports newspapers, we would have used something like a fierce, determined expression right after the performance, or a dynamic, celebratory fist-pump shot. But when it came to Hanyu, Kogaito chose a different angle. The photos he chose on-site conveyed his sensibility.”

 

Of course, Nagakubo didn’t choose Kogaito’s photo on a whim.

 

Nagakubo had heard from photographers at other newspapers about the work of his junior colleague, who had taken over the figure skating coverage he had long valued.

 

“That Kogaito guy is impressive. He really works hard. You should take care of him.”

 

A junior colleague who approaches his work with such dedication is, after all, an endearing presence. And precisely because it was Kogaito’s own assertive choice of photo, Nagakubo had no hesitation in his decision.

 

Nagakubo had been closely observing passionate figure skating fans. What kind of photos were favored? Were their photos being accepted?

 

The response was beyond expectations. It became a topic of discussion on internet forums, with some posts even saying they wanted it made into a postcard. Until then, Kogaito had never looked at online reactions and had not sought out that kind of response.

 

“No matter how satisfied I am with the photo that appears in the paper, readers don’t usually go out of their way to contact me and say, ‘That was a good photo.’ I’ve always thought of it as a battle with myself, and kept shooting with that mindset. When I returned to Japan, Nagakubo printed out posts from online forums and gave them to me. I was so happy. I was really surprised that there actually was a reaction.”

 

Kogaito’s mindset also changed significantly after that one photograph from the Autumn Classic. Until then, within the framework of sports reporting, he had pursued photos based on a “standard formula,” and even when submitting them, he had unconsciously been selecting along those lines.

 

However, at that moment, he had taken a photograph that he could truly say he loved from the bottom of his heart. It was a photograph he might not have noticed without the graceful lines of the subject, Hanyu. That is why Kogaito says:

 

“I believe this is a photo Hanyu allowed me to capture.”

 

He had expected that jump shots would be preferred, but with Nagakubo’s support, the photo Kogaito had chosen made it to the front page. It drew a strong response from fans.

 

“I realized that I have a worldview I like, and that there are fans who appreciate it. Of course, I don’t think it’s everyone. But it made me realize that there are people like that out there. Even within the company, there are seniors like Nagakubo who respect my ideas. I felt that this direction is okay for me too, and it helped clear my mind.”

 

On that day, figure skating photography at Sponichi changed. Or rather, the photos of Hanyu were beginning to change. It could even be said that it marked a turning point in the transformation of figure skating sports photography in Japan.

It was such a major shift that it can be stated with certainty.

 

 

3.4 A “miraculous” shot capturing the champion, illuminated by wings

 

Spoiler

For Kogaito, who had come to realize that photographing Hanyu could not be confined within the framework of sports reporting, the fans’ ‘support’ was immense.

 

Gradually, he began to trust his own instincts and direct his lens toward Hanyu.

 

The Grand Prix series, where the season officially begins in earnest, opened with Hanyu competing at the Rostelecom Cup, the first event.

 

In men’s figure skating, where Hanyu became the Sochi Olympic gold medalist by performing two types of quadruple jumps, the toe loop and salchow, the evolution of jumps had continued without stopping thereafter.

 

Younger skaters chasing after him had begun to perform highly difficult quadruple Lutz jumps in combinations.

 

Meanwhile, among skaters of Hanyu’s generation, some deliberately adopted strategies that emphasized artistry and skating skills, opting not to compete in the ‘multi–quad era’ driven by younger skaters.

 

Javier Fernández of Spain, who won back-to-back World Championships in 2015 and 2016, was one such example. While increasing the base value of jumps is one approach, improving the program component scores (five elements reflecting expressiveness and other aspects) is also a valid strategy in figure skating, given the nature of the sport.

 

The reigning champion, Hanyu, refused to concede either approach. In the 2016–17 season, he not only successfully landed the quadruple loop for the first time in an ISU-recognized competition, but also planned to introduce the quadruple Lutz in the Olympic season.

 

In August 2017, just before the start of the Olympic season in Toronto, Canada, Hanyu did not shy away from a media question that forced him to choose between ‘the types and number of quadruple jumps’ or ‘program quality.’

 

He responded:

 

“I take pride in believing that everything (including jumps, artistry, and all aspects of quality) is my weapon.”

 

For Hanyu, the Rostelecom Cup was not only his first Grand Prix series event, but also the competition where he would attempt his first-ever quadruple Lutz in his free skate.

 

What Hanyu’s new quadruple jump represented was not merely a ‘challenge.’ His jumps were seen by future skaters as a ‘model.’

 

From the approach to the air position and the landing, everything is integrated into the program with the utmost precision.

 

At the Russian Cup, media attention was focused solely on whether or not Hanyu would successfully land the quadruple Lutz.

 

However, Kogaito stated firmly, ‘As far as photography goes, I didn’t think it was necessary to focus solely on the quadruple Lutz.’

 

“To put it bluntly, even if you capture a jump in a single photograph, it cannot compete with video. Television broadcasts it the same day, and fans interested in Hanyu will definitely watch the footage. Of course, as a sports newspaper, we cannot avoid mentioning the jumps. The circumstances leading up to his attempt at the quadruple Lutz, and his impressions when he actually performed it, are things Hanyu himself has given interviews about, so I think they are essential to the article. So then, is it better to simply add a photo of the jump, or should the photographer find a unique angle? I believe in the latter.”

 

Kogaito continued to follow Hanyu as he took to the official practice session. At the rink, his gaze caught a large banner brought in by fans.

 

It was gold-colored, with the characters ‘Yuzuru’ inscribed on it, and white wings drawn on both sides.

 

If it were the standard kind of photo expected for the season-opening Grand Prix series event, it would simply show what Hanyu did during official practice.

 

What kinds of jumps he carefully practiced, or whether he was checking the feel of the ice through spins and steps. If you were a reporter, you would write about those details in the article. If you consider photographs to be ‘complementary’ to the article, then presenting those scenes as ‘images’ for the reader is one possible technique.

 

However, after the Autumn Classic, Kogaito had shifted course toward presenting photographs to readers as ‘independent’ information, separate from the article.

 

Not merely a snapshot of official practice, but a way to capture Hanyu’s appeal even during practice—

 

Just as he was thinking that, a banner with white wings suddenly came into view, and Kogaito had a flash of inspiration.

 

“I thought that if I pressed the shutter at the exact moment Hanyu came to the center, I could capture Hanyu with wings.”

 

As he aimed for that split second, Hanyu moved perfectly into position. And then, a miracle happened.

 

When Hanyu stepped into the center of the wings, he raised both arms high into the sky.

 

With his long arms and soft fingertips, and his gaze slightly raised upward, he appeared to be adorned with the banner’s wings, as if about to take flight at any moment.

 

“This is it! This is the kind of moment that sends shivers down a photographer’s spine. Hanyu always goes beyond what you imagine. His pose is so perfect it’s as if wings have grown from him, isn’t it?”

 

Even if you had aimed for it, or even if you had requested it of the subject in advance, this is probably not a shot that could be captured.

 

It was a ‘miracle shot’ brought about by Hanyu’s natural presence.

 

Kogaito sent the photo and personally made a pitch, saying, ‘Please use this photo.’

 

The photo once again became a hot topic among fans. Later, Sponichi would begin including Hanyu photos in its New Year’s editions that could be kept like posters, but even at this time, this particular photo was given exceptional treatment and printed in a large format.

 

Hanyu’s “legend” is often told through a series of key milestones

 

For example, his ‘Romeo and Juliet’ free skate at the World Championships in Nice in March 2012, where he gave his all after overcoming the Great East Japan Earthquake; the Sochi Olympics in February 2014, where he rose to the top as the second-youngest Olympic champion in history with an explosive performance; the 2014 Cup of China at the Grand Prix series in November, where he completed his program despite being injured after a collision with another skater during the six-minute warm-up; the 2015 NHK Trophy and Grand Prix Final, where he repeatedly set new all-time world record scores and established himself as the ‘absolute champion’; and the World Championships in Helsinki in March–April 2017, where he reclaimed the world title with a dramatic comeback in the free skate…

 

For fans, each of them has a moment when they ‘fell’ for him, and there are so many scenes that they cannot be narrowed down to just one. However, in newspapers that report on almost all of these moments, the main focus is the article itself, and photographs were nothing more than a ‘supplementary’ role to clearly convey symbolic scenes.

 

The photograph of Hanyu with wings was different. Kogaito said:

 

“This is not a photo attached to an article about Hanyu. It's a photograph that captivates on its own.”

 

 

 

3.5 Photographs of the absolute champion beginning to transform

 

Spoiler

"I was imagining a photograph that conveyed something normally invisible, like a supernatural aura clinging to the body, or rather, the sense of something lingering around it."

 

Regarding Hanyu's legendary free program, 'SEIMEI,' Kogaito, as he watched it for the second time following the Autumn Classic, focused first on capturing the program as a whole.

 

For photographers, gathering information is a crucial task. While past footage and photographs taken by other photographers are helpful in discerning patterns, the opportunity to be at the venue, pointing the lens at the action firsthand, is even more valuable.

 

At the Rostelecom Cup, Kogaito photographed Hanyu's 'SEIMEI' from a position directly above the judges' stand.

 

When he pointed his lens from the front, he noticed something: just how carefully and creatively the choreography had been constructed. 'SEIMEI,' when shot from a position close to the judges’ side—in other words, from the front—makes it easiest to see how the program is being expressed.

 

“I immediately realized this was a program that should be shot from the front.”

 

How should this program be photographed?

 

Kogaito felt he first needed to draw a clear line.

 

“I felt I couldn’t simply approach this program as just a photograph of a sporting event. I wanted to capture the world that Hanyu was portraying. Even the state of possession, something that normally shouldn’t be visible, is something Hanyu is trying to embody in his performance. As a photographer, I felt a strong desire to capture even that possessed presence in my photographs. When I saw Hanyu’s SEIMEI on the ice, I could feel something clinging to him. It’s abstract, but he is emitting something. Could I capture that with my camera? I kept thinking about that as I pointed my lens at him.”

 

Around this time, figure skating photography featuring Yuzuru Hanyu was undergoing a dramatic transformation. The trend toward “visually striking photographs,” said to have originated at Sponichi, was soon adopted not only by other sports newspapers but also by general newspapers.

 

What supported Kogaito as he led the way were Nagakubo within the company and, outside it, the fans who directly made their voices heard.

 

In sports reporting, where communication had previously been limited to print media, it was the internet that connected fans and photographers.

 

Sponichi operates an online platform called “Sponichi Annex.”

 

Kogaito emphasizes that the internet has “increased the opportunities to showcase his photographs.”

 

“In print, you can only use one photo, or at most two. But the online space is limitless. Of course, there is a risk of your photos getting buried, but you can use at least seven or eight shots for a single program. And while in print the final choice of which photograph to use ultimately rests with the editorial desk, online there is also a demand for speed, so photos sent in first by the on-site photographer are more likely to be used. Moreover, you get direct feedback. You can clearly see how the photos you choose are being evaluated. The photos from the Autumn Classic and the Rostelecom Cup shot with Hanyu spreading his wings were both well received by fans. It was only when people started talking about them that I realized my work had been accepted. In the online world, photos that don’t resonate receive criticism, so photographers have to accept that. It is incredibly harsh, but in a way, it tests your own sensibility in terms of what kinds of photographs you take and choose. My sense of responsibility in photographing Hanyu grew even stronger.”

 

After the Rostelecom Cup, Hanyu’s schedule was set to include the NHK Trophy (the fourth event of the Grand Prix series), followed by the Grand Prix Final (where he would be aiming for a fifth consecutive title), and then the All-Japan Championships (which also served as Olympic selection). After that, he would either compete at the Four Continents Championships or head straight into the PyeongChang Olympics.

 

However, everything took a dark turn in an instant.

It was during official practice on the eve of the NHK Trophy in November 2017.

 

Hanyu fell on the landing of a quadruple Lutz and injured his right ankle. The injury was so severe that even his participation in the Olympics was in doubt.

 

Kogaito, who would later accompany Hanyu to every competition he entered, was not present on this occasion. Another photographer covered the event, while Kogaito was abroad covering Japan’s national football team ahead of the 2018 FIFA World Cup.

 

The image he saw online of Hanyu crouched on the ice was shocking.

 

Kogaito immediately accessed the company server. Stored there were multiple photographs that closely documented the situation: Hanyu’s fall, his temporary exit from the rink, and his eventual return.

 

Hanyu subsequently withdrew from the NHK Trophy, and missed out on qualifying for the Grand Prix Final. He was also unable to compete at the All-Japan Championships, which served as the final Olympic selection event.

 

Having won the 2017 World Championships and built an undisputed record of achievements, Hanyu was selected to represent Japan at the Olympics for the second consecutive time. Coming straight back from injury with no preparatory competition, he would go directly into the decisive stage, where his bid for back-to-back Olympic titles was on the line.

 

 

 

 

*Alternative CN translations:

https://m.weibo.cn/status/5113964130470585

https://m.weibo.cn/status/5114484273975862 

https://m.weibo.cn/status/5114746877777468 

https://m.weibo.cn/status/5114843550712786

https://m.weibo.cn/status/5115084363796642

https://weibo.com/1683522853/P6EOtnUCU

https://weibo.com/1683522853/P758nj4wE

[yuzurujenn]

*Machine translation. Inaccuracies may exist*

 

 

Chapter 4: Determination 

 

4.1 The absolute champion arrives at the PyeongChang rink

 

Spoiler

How much time had passed? After injuring his right ankle, Hanyu returned to Toronto and never once appeared in public again until he traveled to South Korea for the PyeongChang Olympics.

 

The situation conveyed through the Japan Skating Federation was by no means encouraging. Reporters, including myself, worked behind the scenes to gather information.

 

How far along was Hanyu’s recovery from his injury? How far along was his preparation for the Olympics? At the Sochi Olympics, he competed in the team event short program, which helped build momentum for the individual event, but what would he do this time?

 

Day after day, we found ourselves checking whether any updates had come from Toronto after Japan Skating Federation board meetings and other occasions.

 

Yoshiko Kobayashi, then head of the figure skating strengthening program, would always take a prepared memo from her pocket and read out Hanyu’s comments sent from Toronto.

 

What came through was Hanyu’s determined effort to make a comeback amid a situation that was going back and forth between progress and setbacks.

 

At the time, I also made every effort to pass on even the smallest updates to readers through the newspaper. While reporters had opportunities to conduct interviews, photographers had no opportunity to shoot.

 

At that time, Kogaito simply kept waiting for the day Hanyu would be able to compete.

 

Eventually, after a long silence, the clock began moving again toward the feat of winning two consecutive Olympic titles. Unlike at the Sochi Olympics, it was decided that Hanyu would skip the team event and focus on the individual competition.

 

On February 11, Hanyu finally arrived in South Korea.

 

Incheon International Airport, the gateway to the skies, was bustling with reporters. I also traveled from Gangneung Station near the Olympic venue via KTX and waited in the arrival lobby.

 

Inside the airport, not only Japanese media but also international media and a large number of fans were waiting.

 

Then Hanyu appeared. Members of the Japanese delegation stayed close to him as a protective escort, while staff from the Japanese Olympic Committee (JOC) worked to keep his route clear.

 

Just before leaving the airport, Hanyu held a press conference despite the fatigue of his long journey.

 

“There were many competitions I couldn’t take part in, and I felt very frustrated, but I worked hard on rehabilitation and treatment off-ice, doing everything I could. From here on, I want to properly prepare for the competition. If I’m being honest with myself, I really want to win two consecutive Olympic titles. I believe I have the strongest desire to win of all the athletes, and I think I’m one of the athletes with the greatest potential to reach my peak.”

 

He answered media questions concisely and directly, in a manner typical of Hanyu.

 

In fact, at that time, Kogaito was unable to leave the venue where he was covering another Olympic event.

 

Later, he checked the photos in the company folder. Hanyu, walking under escort after finishing his media duties, left a strong impression.

 

“He looked composed and in battle mode. He had an aura, like the presence of a reigning champion. That’s what I saw.”

 

On the 12th, he was scheduled to have his first official practice session after arriving at the venue.

 

The road to a second consecutive Olympic title was finally about to begin. For Kogaito as well, capturing a defining image of Hanyu’s back-to-back victories would be the “culmination” of his efforts.

 

The practice of publishing articles and photos online as “breaking news” was also becoming a standard process within newspapers.

 

Within the Sponichi newsroom as well, it had been confirmed that Hanyu’s activities would be posted online as quickly as possible.

 

The official practice on the 12th was not held on the main competition rink, but on a sub-rink located underground.

 

Kogaito headed to the rink early, because he had a specific spot in mind.

 

The sub-rink had also been used for practice at the Four Continents Championships the previous year, so he already had the layout of the venue in mind.

 

“I wanted to deliver a photo of Hanyu looking healthy to fans as quickly as possible. I aimed to capture him as he entered the rink, and send out the first shot.”

 

Wearing a white Japan team jacket featuring the Japanese flag on the left chest, Hanyu appeared at the rink looking relaxed.

 

Then he looked around with an innocent smile. Kogaito did not miss that moment. Based on the venue layout he had already memorized, he positioned himself near the entrance door to the rink, aiming to capture the exact moment Hanyu stepped onto the ice.

 

He wanted to take the closest possible shot with the camera lens, rather than relying on cropping. He succeeded in getting exactly the shot he had aimed for.

 

This was the first photo he had taken of Hanyu since arriving in PyeongChang.

 

He suffered an injury at the NHK Trophy about three months before the competition, and had not competed in any official events since then.

 

Upon arriving at Incheon Airport in South Korea, Hanyu made a strong statement, but beyond that, little was known. His upcoming performances were expected to draw perhaps the greatest attention of the entire Olympics, and fans were closely following his every move.

 

That smile from Hanyu was, in other words, a sign that he was in good condition.

 

Kogaito tried to convey that to readers and fans through a single photograph.

 

Moreover, the photo also captured that he was holding a cake-shaped tissue case instead of his usual “partner.”

 

The Olympics impose strict restrictions, including sponsorship agreements, and prohibit bringing in character merchandise and other goods.

 

Before his performance, Hanyu would stretch at rinkside and touch his "Winnie the Pooh" tissue box cover.

 

At the Olympics, that routine was no longer possible.

 

The absence of his “partner,” even in a sub-rink, provided valuable information that this was indeed an Olympic venue, even without showing the Olympic rings in the photo.

 

Hanyu, having recovered from his injury, was still in good condition and standing on the Olympic stage. Kogaito reflects, “I think the significance lay in being able to express these two elements in a single photograph.”

 

This was also an Olympics in which internet-based breaking news reporting had fully taken hold.

 

Kogaito also said that he was conscious of “breaking news” when taking this photo. After shooting it, he immediately transferred it to his computer and sent it to the photo department in Tokyo.

 

It was not an image of Hanyu in battle mode for the Olympics, but rather a picture of him smiling "cutely," not even looking like a competitive figure skater.

 

In traditional sports reporting, it might not have been considered a “correct” photo.

 

If Hanyu were still competing, some editors might argue that a photo of him skating on the ice would be the more convincing choice. A smiling photo might have been rejected, with the argument that a shot of him in the middle of a jump would better convey his return to competition. In fact, reporters, myself included, were frantically writing to document the details of Hanyu's practice session.

 

On the sub-rink, where the atmosphere was so tense that even a single fall could have triggered a recurrence of his injury, Hanyu carefully practiced his jumps.

 

Excluding the Axel, seven of the eight jumps he attempted were single jumps. The only double jump was a toe loop. As for triple jumps, the only one was the triple Axel he landed at the end.

 

After carefully checking the feel of the ice and performing 10 jumps, Hanyu left the rink after an unusually brief 15-minute practice session.

 

If the article and photographs were meant to complement each other, the photo Kogaito had taken might not have fit the story.

 

Kogaito himself acknowledges, "At the very least, it's not the kind of photo sports newspapers have traditionally published."

 

"But personally, I don't think that kind of photo (traditional photography) is necessarily the best. Nagakubo often searches online for photos of Hanyu. He looks at how fans respond to them, which photos they appreciate and which ones resonate with them. Back then, I wasn't doing anything like that yet. I didn't have the time or the headspace for it. At the time, all I was thinking was, 'I'm going to take better photos than the photographers around me.' More than anything, I was focused on taking photos that I myself could be satisfied with. But Nagakubo taught me something. He showed me that Hanyu's 'cute' photos and 'beautiful' photos are what capture fans' hearts."

 

Of course, these weren’t photos taken with the intention of appealing to readers or gaining fan support from the outset. Contrived, pandering images would never be accepted. Rather, Kogaito aimed for photographs he himself could be satisfied with, ideally in a way that would naturally lead to fan support as a result. So why, then, did he capture Hanyu’s “cute” expression at that moment?

 

“Hanyu has a way of making us want to take beautiful or cute photos of him. That is part of his mysterious power. While photos of his serious gaze during competition are certainly cool, there is also a charm in his natural, unguarded expressions. When I’m on site with my lens pointed at him, I instinctively want to press the shutter. There are moments, even during competition or while jumping, when I feel compelled to take a shot, even if it means going beyond what is normally required in sports reporting. It’s rare to feel that kind of impulse with other athletes.”

 

 

Having submitted his first photo in a form he was satisfied with, Kogaito felt a renewed sense of resolve.

 

For Hanyu to skate on the Olympic rink meant that a result would follow. A second consecutive Olympic title, something not seen in 66 years in men’s figure skating. Ever since being assigned to cover the Winter Olympics, he had been imagining only that moment.

 

Kogaito says:

 

“Immediately after the Olympics, I think many people would see around a hundred photos of Hanyu. But as a month passes, then a year, those photos are gradually filtered down. It’s the same not only in sports, but also when we look back at past events. Whether it’s an incident, a social phenomenon, or any other scene, in the end it all comes down to a single image. Even in the moment an athlete wins a gold medal, the image that comes to mind for most people is probably the same one.

I came to PyeongChang thinking, “I absolutely want to take a photo that everyone will remember, one that will last until the very end.” I was only imagining Hanyu winning the gold medal. I wanted to capture a symbolic image worthy of his consecutive Olympic titles. I wanted to take a shot so iconic that even 10 or 20 years from now, when people look back on Hanyu’s history, they would associate my photograph with his back-to-back victories at the PyeongChang Olympics.”

 

Kogaito is not usually a very talkative photographer. He rarely uses words that draw attention to himself. Yet when he looks back on the PyeongChang Olympics, he becomes unusually talkative.

 

What lies there is not self-confidence, but a fear of pressure.

 

“The act of photographing Hanyu becomes more and more frightening the more I understand the magnitude of his presence. To be honest, I don’t think I will ever reach a state of mind where I can feel simply excited while pointing my camera at him on-site. It is the fear that I won’t be able to take good photographs. Will I be able to capture the worldview he expresses, the highly refined programs as works of art? That is the kind of fear I have. Moreover, it is impossible to predict what Hanyu will do, whether in practice or in competition. The only thing I can say is that he always goes beyond our expectations. When such surprises happen right in front of us, I worry whether I will be able to respond in time. The way his photographs are handled is on an entirely different scale, and they are seen by audiences far beyond what we’ve had before. There is no room for excuses. There is also competition with photographers from other media outlets. Until now, I had always taken photos while confronting myself. But when it comes to photographing Hanyu, there's something I won't compromise on. I wanted to be the one to capture the symbolic moment of his consecutive Olympic victories. I didn't want to compete on the same playing field as other photographers, but in terms of evaluation, I do enjoy competition. That is one of my motivations. I was conscious of the other photographers around me, and at the time I was also aware of 'Sponichi Tokyo.' I think I was still seen as an outsider from Osaka back then, and I was in a position where I had to take photos that would impress my company.”

 

Kogaito always says: “There are many photographers better than me. To begin with, I don’t even think I’m particularly skilled at taking photographs.”

 

That’s why, in order to channel his competitive spirit, the only option left was to compete not on photographic skill, but on expression.

 

“I’m not a great photographer, but I’ve always wanted to be someone who takes good photographs. To use a soccer analogy, just because a team is made up of players with outstanding dribbling and shooting skills doesn’t mean it will always win. Similarly, in photography, I believe you can win even if you are less technically skilled. But I still struggle to take photographs I’m fully satisfied with. When I look at other photographers’ work, everything seems better than mine. My own photographs are filled with regret. I even had dreams about my failures, such as missing the moment when Hanyu did something incredible, or realizing too late that something was happening and panicking because I wasn’t there. They were all nightmares. I was fighting in that kind of mental state. Still, because everyone tends to take similar kinds of photographs, I thought I would try approaching “good photographs” from a different angle. I believed that if I did, I would have a chance to win.”

 

The first photo he took in PyeongChang already gave him a sense that it had potential.

 

As already mentioned, on that day Hanyu landed a triple axel on his tenth jump and ended his official practice after just 15 minutes.

 

What kind of jumps would Hanyu show upon his return? That was a major point of interest.

 

What was Kogaito thinking at that time? As he watched the reporters on site intently following Hanyu’s jumps and taking notes, he thought to himself:

 

“Whether he landed the jump or not, I felt it was only necessary as photographic evidence. I believe Hanyu had a strategy in place for his path toward winning consecutive Olympic gold medals, including what kind of jumps he would attempt, or not attempt, in that first official practice. So while the jumps that day were just one element, whether he landed them or not could already be understood from the articles. Therefore, I aimed my camera from the perspective of trying to read how he had prepared through his body lines and facial expressions.”

 

Surprisingly, Kogaito captured not a jump, but a scene of Hanyu performing “compulsory figures,” tracing geometric patterns across the ice.

 

“This is just my impression from being there on-site, but when I saw his compulsory figures, I felt that his recovery from injury seemed to be going well. Of course, I am not a skating professional. But Hanyu’s face was smiling.”

 

The photograph, in which he performed compulsory figures with a smile that conveyed a bright outlook toward the PyeongChang Olympics, did not appear in the next day’s newspapers and was later shelved until it was published in a photo book.

 

 

4.2 The fighting spirit shown by Hanyu as he draws a bow

 

Spoiler

February 13, 2018. Hanyu finally appeared on the main Olympic rink.

 

Having been sidelined from competition for four months due to a right ankle injury, Hanyu, who had shown a smile on the practice rink the previous day, demonstrated his smooth recovery with his jumps on this day.

 

He skated to his free program, “SEIMEI,” played in the arena, and landed five quadruple jumps.

 

At that moment, Kogaito captured Hanyu’s intense expression along with his dynamic movements.

 

The program ‘SEIMEI’ has many iconic moments. The most symbolic is the pose Hanyu strikes at the beginning of the performance.

 

The legendary program that led to his consecutive Olympic titles features a pose that Hanyu himself often performs in front of fans and the media, making it a signature moment of the program.

 

This is also the most symbolic scene for showing that he skated ‘SEIMEI’ on this day.

 

“I knew everyone would be taking photos of that moment. So I wanted to show readers of the Sponichi website and print edition something a little different. I also wanted the company to use that kind of photo.”

 

If you want to convey that he skated ‘SEIMEI’ on this day, you would use the opening scene; if you want to show that he landed clean quadruple jumps, you would use the jumping sequence. That was the standard approach.

 

In addition, it had been announced that Hanyu would hold a press conference inside the venue after official practice on the main rink that day.

 

As one of the headline skaters of the 2018 PyeongChang Winter Olympics, he would be given significant coverage not only online but also in print. From a sports reporting perspective, it would be appropriate to use three photos: one of him skating his free program on the main rink, one of him performing a quadruple jump, and one capturing his expression during the press conference.

 

However, the free skate photo Kogaito sent to the newsroom was taken in the middle of the performance. Just before the step sequence, there's a moment where Hanyu mimics drawing a bow.

 

When Kogaito was asked about his intention, he responded passionately.

 

“At that moment, I could feel Hanyu’s fighting spirit in his expression. It seemed as though the mindset of a skater facing the challenge of consecutive Olympic titles was being expressed through his performance. From my position, I was shooting from behind him. So it is not a frontal shot, but even from his profile, his fighting spirit came through strongly. When I photograph Hanyu, I have a desire to capture the beauty of his body lines. In this photo, you can clearly see his well-trained upper-body muscles, and I was able to capture the elegant line of his back. From a reporting perspective, jumps are an essential element, but ‘fighting spirit’ and ‘beauty’ were absolutely indispensable elements for me when I pointed my camera at that moment.”

 

The Olympic rings, which indicate the Olympic venue, were deliberately omitted. Everyone already knew that Hanyu was skating at the Olympics. The priority was to convey the atmosphere of his fighting spirit rather than the atmosphere of him skating at an Olympic venue.

 

The next day, February 14, Sponichi featured Hanyu on its front page.

 

The main image featured a large headline that read, "Five quadruple jumps landed!! Hanyu can definitely win," along with a dynamic photo of Hanyu drawing a bow, brimming with fighting spirit.

 

Alongside it, a sequence of photos of his quadruple jumps was used to balance the layout. Then, at the press conference held shortly afterward, Hanyu once again expressed his strong determination toward the Olympics, where he was aiming for a second consecutive title.

 

 

“Since my injury, I’ve had days when I couldn’t skate, but I’m very happy to have been able to skate safely on the main rink at the Olympic venue today. Of course, I don’t intend to let my guard down yet. I want to stay focused and do what I can, one step at a time. Also, during the difficult time after my injury, I received so many messages of support. I want to draw strength from the messages I received from everyone and use that to fuel my performance.”

 

After speaking at the beginning, when Hanyu was asked by reporters about his rehabilitation during the press conference, there was a moment when he looked up toward the ceiling and remained in that posture for a while, seemingly lost in thought. Kogaito, who was photographing Hanyu from the front-left angle, found his profile at that moment particularly striking.

 

More than the bow-drawing pose captured on the main rink, or the sequence of quadruple jumps, Kogaito says, “When I think of the photos from that day, I remember this moment of Hanyu silently contemplating how to answer questions about his rehabilitation.”

 

More than the words in which Hanyu later spoke about his struggles, it was the fleeting expression he showed that told the story of the hardships he endured during his rehabilitation.

 

The detailed rehabilitation process would later be covered by reporters and published as breaking news online and in articles the following morning. In fact, through my own reporting, I came to understand just how difficult a period Hanyu had gone through.

 

“Including training methods, I studied various books and academic papers while I was unable to practice due to my right ankle injury,” Hanyu said. Rather than lamenting his injury, he focused on what it would take to win and tackled everything he was still able to do.”

 

Unable to practice on the ice, he repeatedly rehearsed upper-body movements while playing the music for his short and free programs that he would use in competition. Even with his right ankle requiring complete rest, he used resistance bands and other equipment to maintain upper-body and deep core strength and prevent muscle loss.

 

While reporters uncovered Hanyu’s tireless efforts and wrote about them, what could a photographer do? Kogaito believed it was to capture the moment when Hanyu’s expression spoke volumes about his rehabilitation journey. Three photos from that press conference were published in the Sponichi newspaper.

 

The three photos were laid out as a sequence to give Hanyu’s press conference appearance a sense of movement. But Kogaito said, “Although the three photos are arranged similarly, my intention behind each one is completely different.”

 

That alone shows how strongly Kogaito felt about the photo capturing the fleeting moment when Hanyu looked up toward the ceiling.

 

Hanyu arrived in South Korea, completed his practice at the Olympic rink, and held a press conference in front of domestic and international media. Having completed all his pre-Olympic tasks, Hanyu was finally ready to embark on his quest for the historic achievement of winning back-to-back Olympic titles.

 

 

4.3 A Stunning Short Program Conveyed Through "Expression"

 

Spoiler

The performance on February 16, 2018, was the epitome of a champion's skating.

 

In the crucial Olympic short program, entered without any preparatory competition, Hanyu delivered a remarkable comeback to Chopin’s ‘Ballade No. 1,’ a piano piece he has said he loves.

 

In this winning program, which had repeatedly broken world-record scores, he flawlessly executed the opening quadruple Salchow. He earned a GOE of 2.71 out of a maximum of 3.0, underscoring the exceptionally high quality of the jump. The remaining two jumps were performed in the second half of the program, where base value is multiplied by 1.1. First, he landed his signature triple Axel, then successfully executed a quadruple-triple toe loop combination with a difficult landing, raising both arms. The triple Axel received a perfect GOE of 3, and the combination jump scored 2.57. His intricate step sequence toward the end of the program matched the piano melody, and his elegant spins remained as impressive as ever.

 

In response to his truly overwhelming performance, countless Japanese flags swayed in the stands, and a thunderous roar of cheers enveloped the entire arena.

 

He scored an outstanding 111.68 points, finishing more than four points ahead of second place.

 

He stood firmly in first place, gaining significant momentum toward a second consecutive Olympic title.

 

After completing his performance, Hanyu placed his right hand over his chest and showed an expression that could be described as both a smile and a sense of relief. Kogaito captured this moment, and Sponichi featured it on the front page.

 

The Sponichi edition, like other sports newspapers, was entirely devoted to Hanyu that day.

 

In addition to the front page, pages 2 and 3 also featured articles and photographs of Hanyu. The front page is the “face” of a sports newspaper, highlighting the day’s biggest story with large, flashy headlines.

 

At the press conference after the short program, Hanyu made the remark, “I know the Olympics,” and the coverage emphasized his strength with headlines such as “Hanyu is amazing, leading even without any prior competition!! So strong!!” and “First back-to-back title in 66 years: legendary free skate at 1:43 PM today,” giving the impression that the countdown to his consecutive Olympic victory had already begun.

 

What was remarkable was that the main front-page photo that day did not show Hanyu skating. Not only that, it didn't even show his skates.

 

Furthermore, on page 3, they published a cropped photo focusing solely on Hanyu’s expression of joy as he embraced his coach, Brian Orser.

 

In sports newspapers, odd-numbered pages traditionally showcase photographs. The photos on pages 1 and 3 captured Hanyu’s rich expressions following his comeback performance.

 

All of these photos were taken by Kogaito. The photo on page 3, showing Hanyu with a wide smile revealing his white teeth and eyes crinkling at the corners, is one of Kogaito’s favorite shots.

 

“After finishing the crucial short program for his bid to win back-to-back titles, I think Hanyu probably relaxed for just a moment. Of course, he still had the free skate to go, so it may simply have seemed that way. However, having skated the short program almost perfectly, I think this photo became one that conveyed: 'The strong Yuzuru Hanyu, the absolute champion, has returned to the Olympics to achieve back-to-back victories.'”

 

In the widely watched short program, Hanyu successfully landed two types of quadruple jumps: the Salchow and the toe loop.

 

In particular, the opening quadruple Salchow was a crucial jump, one that he attempted ten times in a row during official morning practice that day, and a key element not only for the short program, but even more so for his bid for back-to-back Olympic titles. His lead in the short program that day was also driven by the success of his two quadruple jumps.

 

However, Kogaito said:

 

“As a photographer, I considered how far I should focus on jumps, which are scoring elements. Of course, during the performance I was tracking him through the lens, and I pressed the shutter many times for Hanyu’s quadruple jumps. I felt, “He really nailed it,” and “He’s incredible.” In a sense, I was watching as a spectator as well. As Hanyu landed his jumps, my excitement rose accordingly. The success of the jumps also motivated me to take even better photos, so there was a very positive aspect to it. However, I felt that the photos that best captured Hanyu's short program that day weren't the jumps. So, you might be surprised, but during the short program, I had no intention of sending any jump photos from the short program at all. In the end, they were used in the sequence of photos, but I believed the moments revealing Hanyu’s emotions at the Olympics were what should be conveyed.”

 

At the Autumn Classic, Hanyu’s first competition of the season, the presence of department head Nagakubo, who had championed Kogaito’s photographs, was also significant. Nagakubo supported Kogaito’s efforts to change figure skating photography and helped spread that mindset among the other desk editors within the company.

 

“Hanyu’s performances had already been photographed many times at various competitions and World Championships. The Olympics are the culmination of his career, so focusing on the performance itself might be the standard approach. However, I wanted to capture the expressions and gestures Hanyu displayed at the Olympics, beyond the bounds of his performance, as well as his inner self.”

 

This approach deviated significantly from the established standards of sports photography.

 

The two photographs Kogaito sent could easily have been rejected. It would not have been surprising if he had been instructed to send jump photos instead.

 

In fact, Kogaito himself later recalled, “I thought I might be told to resend a photo that better conveyed the strength of the performance. It was unexpected.”

 

Having overcome his injury, Hanyu delivered a superb performance that placed him first in the short program, and the “relieved expression” he showed clearly reflects his journey up to that point and his feelings upon his comeback.

 

The bold layout of the newspaper was influenced by a gradual shift in the company’s atmosphere. With Nagakubo’s support, Kogaito had more opportunities to feature the photographs he wanted to publish.

 

In response, his photos garnered praise from fans online, and this positive feedback led to “Kogaito’s photographs,” though unconventional, gradually becoming accepted as legitimate sports newspaper photography.

 

“When it comes to figure skating photography, the standard has been images of skaters performing or jumping. Photos capturing the moments before and after the performance, or fleeting expressions, were not considered acceptable, at least in sports photography. But I believe that those fleeting expressions are precisely where Hanyu’s emotions can be expressed through photography. The company gradually began to accept that. This was partly thanks to Nagakubo, as well as the desk editors who became more flexible and less rigid in their thinking, and the writers who understood that ‘photos and articles are separate things,’ and who wanted to differentiate Sponichi newspaper with my photography. Things changed little by little, and I think that led to changes in the photos used at the Olympics.”

 

Kogaito, however, says that after returning from the venue there are times when he is overcome with both surprise and regret. This happens when he goes through his daily routine of reviewing Hanyu’s photos one by one.

 

A photographer presses the shutter nearly 1,000 times during a single performance.

 

When selecting photos for online breaking news or for the next day’s newspaper, it would take too much time to check every single image one by one, so he only reviews the shots that he intuitively feels may have captured a good “frame.”

 

After sending his selected photos to the company, Kogaito makes a point of going back and reviewing all of the nearly 1,000 photos he took.

 

And he often discovers new aspects of Hanyu that he had not noticed before.

 

“I don’t notice it at the time of shooting, but when I carefully review each photo, I often come across unexpected shots. I think that’s because Hanyu is so particular about every single moment of his performance. Moments that weren’t visible in the flow of the performance emerge when they are isolated as photographs. When I manage to capture such images, it feels less like I took them myself, and more like Hanyu made it possible for me to take them.”

 

That is precisely why reviewing them has become a daily routine.

 

Sponichi, using Kogaito’s driven approach to photography, conveyed Hanyu’s lead after the short program to Japan through photos centered on "expression."

 

However, not all of the photographs published in the newspaper were captured exactly as planned.

 

 

 

4.4 Choosing a free-skate photo position based solely on belief in a gold medal

 

Spoiler

Kogaito was struggling to decide where to take photos during the short program.

 

At the Olympics, the photographers' competition quietly began with the battle to secure the best photo positions. Just as Kogaito had predicted, the Japanese sports newspapers were not granted access to rinkside.

 

Kogaito had staked everything at these Olympics on photographing the free skate.

 

Even so, it wasn't as though he had neglected the short program. While keeping the free skate in mind, he had carefully considered which positions to shoot from and what kinds of shots to aim for during the short program.

 

Many of the photographers who were not allowed into rinkside could only shoot from the stands where the spectators sit.

 

The photo positions set up on all four sides of the rink can be likened to positions on a clock face.

 

If we take the judges’ panel as the 12 o’clock position, then the right-hand side facing the judges is 3 o’clock, the left-hand side is 9 o’clock, and the opposite side is 6 o’clock. The photographers’ seating areas are broadly located at these four points. In practice, each position is assigned as a range. For example, the 12 o’clock area is actually around 11 to 12 o’clock, and the same applies to the 9 o’clock position, which covers roughly 9 to 10 o’clock. These broader zones are first allocated by lottery, and within the assigned zone, photographers can choose their seats on a first-come, first-served basis on the day of the event.

 

The 12 o’clock position is the most visually appealing, as skaters perform facing the judges, making it a highly sought-after spot for photographers. In contrast, the position opposite the judges’ panel is less popular. The remaining spots are divided between the 3 o'clock and 9 o'clock positions.

 

The position Kogaito was aiming for in the free skate was the 9 o’clock position. He had a clear reason for targeting it.

 

Since taking on figure skating coverage, Kogaito had continued shooting with one image always in mind: the moment Hanyu would achieve consecutive Olympic titles.

 

Even when an injury sidelined him during the Olympic season, forcing him away from competition, that remained unchanged.

 

And so, he kept thinking about what kind of photograph could best symbolize Hanyu’s back-to-back Olympic victory and stand the test of time.

 

He had only been able to photograph five events himself: the Four Continents Championships in February 2017, the World Championships in March–April, the World Team Trophy in April, and the Autumn Classic and the Grand Prix Series Rostelecom Cup during the Olympic season. In short, he lacked field experience.

 

So Kogaito turned to the archive photos stored by his company and reviewed them again.

 

What kind of performances had Hanyu delivered in past competitions, and what kinds of expressions had he shown? Kogaito went through everything thoroughly, including television footage and overseas wire photos contracted by Sponichi.

 

One photograph caught his eye.

 

March 30, 2016. It was a scene immediately after the short program at the World Championships in Boston, distributed by Reuters.

 

At that time, Hanyu scored 110.56 points, coming close to his personal best, and took a commanding lead after the short program.

 

After finishing his performance, Hanyu let out a triumphant roar, fully revealing his fighting spirit. His expression radiated a sense of accomplishment, pride, and self-confidence—the conviction that this was the very essence of Yuzuru Hanyu’s skating.

 

Kogaito was captivated by a photograph that captured Hanyu’s expression at that moment. It was shot from the 9 o’clock position.

 

“Of all the performances I’ve seen from Hanyu in the past, I felt this scene showed his emotions most clearly.”

 

He looked into whether there were any other photos of this scene, including in his own company’s archives, but found none.

 

Why was the Reuters photographer able to capture this scene?

 

He came up with a hypothesis.

 

The Reuters photographer may have been stationed here as a secondary position rather than directly facing the judges’ panel. That may be why other agencies were unable to capture this moment.

 

Photos alone could not reveal the sequence of events. Kogaito reviewed video footage to reexamine that moment.

 

Hanyu finished facing forward, then immediately skated toward the 9 o’clock position, where he showed his emotions openly.

 

When emotions explode in an unconscious state, don’t people tend to repeat similar movements? If so, then in the Olympic free skate where Hanyu delivered a masterful performance to secure his second consecutive Olympic gold medal, it might be possible to capture that burst of emotion from this same angle once again.

 

An expression like that, if seen after securing back-to-back Olympic titles, would be even more powerful than the one from the World Championships short program.

 

He rewatched Hanyu’s free program, “SEIMEI,” which he would perform at the Olympics. First, Hanyu strikes his finishing pose facing forward. The scene of him raising his index finger toward the sky would certainly symbolize Hanyu’s back-to-back Olympic titles.

 

But was there no moment of even greater emotional burst? What if, immediately after he skated toward the 9 o’clock position, a scene like the one from the Boston short program were to be recreated...

 

After a performance that would secure him his second consecutive Olympic gold medal, which position should he shoot from? Surely, the expression he showed at the 9 o’clock position would be far more impactful.

 

Kogaito made up his mind.

 

“If I had been positioned directly in front, I think I could have gotten some kind of shot, even if it wasn’t a perfect performance. But I felt that approaching Hanyu’s skating with that kind of mindset simply wouldn’t do. I had only ever envisioned Hanyu winning. I could only imagine him delivering a flawless performance in the free skate to clinch the gold medal. That might make me a failure as a sports newspaper photographer. But Hanyu is a skater worth betting everything on his winning, and I had no doubt that the PyeongChang Olympics was exactly that kind of stage. I wanted to take on that challenge as a photographer.”

 

Hanyu would surely win… And beyond that, the moment of capturing a once-in-a-lifetime photograph would be waiting...

 

That’s why, after much deliberation, he decided to shoot from the same 9 o’clock direction for the short program, also using it as a “rehearsal” for the free skate.

 

On the day of the short program, he covered the official practice at the sub-rink, then immediately ran to the main rink stands to secure the position he had been aiming for.

 

However, an unexpected problem arose. Although the four photo positions are assigned by lottery, actual seating within those zones is determined on a first-come, first-served basis. Kogaito had hurried over immediately after finishing at the sub-rink practice, but when he arrived, a photographer from a general newspaper was already seated in the front row closest to the 8 o’clock position he had been aiming for.

 

With no choice, he set up his camera behind him, and the photographer turned around to greet him. Then he heard words that left him slightly taken aback.

 

"I've never photographed figure skating before."

 

He was likely part of the Olympic coverage team and had been suddenly assigned to photograph Hanyu’s short program. His expression clearly showed his bewilderment.

 

Unfamiliar with the routines of figure skating coverage, he had likely skipped shooting the official practice at the sub-rink and instead gone early to the main rink to take his position.

 

As a result, Kogaito ended up shooting from one row further back than the ideal position he had envisioned for the free skate. This unintentionally led to one of the three main short-program photos published in the newspaper incorporating a “yellow” tint.

 

What does this mean? If you look closely at the photo on page three showing Hanyu’s expression of joy just before he embraced Orser, you can see a yellow blur across the bottom of the image.

 

At the 9 o’clock position, the spot closest to 8 o’clock had a spectator aisle running along its right-hand side.

 

Just as Kogaito captured Hanyu embracing Orser, something yellow crossed in front of his lens. It was a Winnie-the-Pooh plush toy carried by a fan running down the aisle after the performance.

 

“It was my own fault for not securing the front row, but I really regret that I couldn’t get a clean shot. I can talk about it now in interviews and explain what happened behind the scenes, but on the day itself, everything comes down to the photos I took.”

 

 

When he reported back to his office, the desk was not impressed, remarking, “It’s a bit too yellow.” However, even then, Nagakubo saw it differently.

 

“It’s a bit yellow, but let’s go with it.”

 

Hanyu’s expression of joy had that much impact. That was why, even with the yellow tint, it was still selected for publication.

 

In fact, at that time, Kogaito also captured a “perfect shot” made possible by a fan.

 

Immediately after the performance, as the rink was filled with cheers, several Winnie the Pooh plush toys were thrown onto the ice. One of them briefly obstructed Kogaito’s view.

 

However, it turned out to be an unexpectedly brilliant shot.

 

After finishing his performance, Hanyu stood on the ice for a moment, head bowed.

 

As Kogaito was aiming to capture Hanyu’s expression at that moment, a Pooh plush toy was thrown onto the ice.

 

The Winnie-the-Pooh plush toy, still inside its transparent bag, appeared in close-up in the foreground closest to the lens, while behind Hanyu, the “PyeongChang” lettering and the Olympic rings were also visible in the frame.

 

“It was an accidental shot, but I thought it ended up being an interesting angle.”

 

This photo was published alongside the main image on page three, which showed Hanyu running to Orser.

 

Back at his accommodation, Kogaito opened his laptop alone and reviewed the newspaper proofs sent to him as a PDF file.

 

Until then, he had always pursued photographs driven by his own standards and convictions, and there had been a certain pressure in that. He sometimes questioned whether the desk would choose his photos at all, and how far Nagakubo, the department head, understood his sensibility. But looking at the newspaper pages that day, a different feeling began to take shape.

 

“If I were to give myself a score, I’d give the short program photos a 50. I don’t usually give my own photos a perfect 100, but I wasn’t very happy with them that day. That includes the fact that the photos turned out slightly yellow. However, when I saw the newspaper proofs, I thought they had done a good job of incorporating the photos into the layout.”

 

Sponichi was the company he worked for, but to Kogaito, the layout department that produced the pages and the photo editors who selected the images were also people he had to face off against.

 

However, the layout of that day’s paper reflected Kogaito’s sensibility. Even the yellowish-tinted photograph appeared as the main image on page three, and his unexpectedly captured favorite shot was also included.

 

“Under normal standards, even the front-page photo might have been rejected as ‘too weak’ and replaced. But I could really feel that they understood my intent and chose to respect and use my photographs. It felt as if the reporters and desk editors in the layout department had built the page around my images. I was filled with gratitude and joy.”

 

His mind was clear and his focus remained sharp. Hanyu led after the short program, taking a major step toward consecutive Olympic titles. Everything was set. On February 17 in the free skate, a legend was about to unfold as Hanyu attempted to become the first man in 66 years to win back-to-back Olympic gold medals.

 

“A photograph that will be talked about for decades to come, the image people will remember when they think of Hanyu’s performance at the PyeongChang Olympics.” With the aim of capturing such a photograph, Kogaito set his sights on this historic moment from his pre-determined photo position.

 

4.5 The moment of his second consecutive victory: The champion's expression beyond imagination

 

Spoiler

He couldn't afford to make the same mistake again.

 

On the morning of the free skate, he arrived at the main rink’s stands around 5 a.m. If photographers from other newspapers noticed this, they might have realized he had a specific “target” in mind for his shooting position.

 

“I was worried about being noticed by photographers from other companies. I thought that if, like in the short program, someone ended up sitting in my spot, everything would be ruined.”

 

Many photographers who moved to the 9 o’clock photo position chose seats closer to the 10 o’clock side, that is, as close as possible to the judges’ side.

 

Kogaito, on the other hand, moved away from the front and sat in a seat closest to the 8 o’clock position. Even within the same 9 o’clock direction, there was some range, spanning roughly from 8 to 10 o’clock. The positioning also varied to some extent in height.

 

Should he photograph from the upper stands or get closer to the rinkside? Kogaito chose the front row. It was the ideal position to capture Hanyu’s expression after his finishing pose, the moment he became certain of his second consecutive Olympic title.

 

At last, the performance began.

 

This was also the stage where Hanyu, who rose like a phoenix, sought to “settle the score” at the Olympics.

 

At the Sochi Olympics four years earlier, he dominated the short program but made mistakes on his jumps in the free skate. There was still a sense of vulnerability.

 

Over the next four years, his position had changed. Now hailed as the absolute champion, he had repeatedly rewritten past records and, through his performances, shown the next generation of skaters the harsh realities of competition.

 

A burning desire for victory, unwavering mental strength in the face of injury, technique honed through relentless effort, and extraordinary artistry—Hanyu condensed all of these into his performance of “SEIMEI.”

 

He landed a quadruple Salchow at the beginning, followed by a quadruple toe loop. Both received a perfect +3 GOE. These beautiful jumps, which impressed the judges, gave him momentum, and in the second half he successfully landed a quadruple Salchow–triple toe loop combination. Although the landing of the subsequent quadruple toe loop was slightly unstable, he still successfully landed three clean quadruple jumps throughout the program.

 

A four-and-a-half-minute performance by the reigning champion, dominating the rink. His final, eighth jump, a lutz, was the same jump on which he had been injured. He landed it as a triple but lost his balance on the landing. The champion leaned forward, but his spirit did not break. He fought desperately to hold on with his injured right foot.

 

It wasn’t just about technique. It wasn’t just about spirit. It was a program for victory that embodied “mind, technique, and body.”

 

As Kogaito’s camera tracked his subject, Hanyu executed jump after jump, each one sending the crowd into a roar. Although “SEIMEI” is at its most visually powerful when shot head-on, Kogaito remained unfazed.

 

He finished a performance of overwhelming brilliance. It had been about three months since his right ankle injury. This was his second Olympics, entered without a lead-up competition. Upon arriving at the venue, Hanyu said, as if to silence concerns about his absence from competition:

 

“I know the Olympics.”

 

Maintaining his confident stance, he fully embodied the pride of a champion in the high-stakes, winner-takes-all Olympic moment.

 

As Hanyu finished his performance facing forward, Hanyu thrust his fist upward toward the sky, as if already confirming his second consecutive title. Hanyu himself then looked up at the sky, his face beaming with a sense of accomplishment.

 

Kogaito quietly waited for the next moment.

 

Time seemed to flow in slow motion. In the next instant, Hanyu’s expression filled the lens.

 

With his arms outstretched, he let out a roar, his white teeth visible. His brow furrowed, and his still-burning fighting spirit was evident in his eyes.

 

It was not a vague expression of joy for having delivered a good performance. It was more like a cry from the soul, brimming with the pride of a champion who had overcome injury and achieved back-to-back Olympic victories.

 

“Hanyu’s expression far exceeded what I had anticipated. It was my first opportunity to photograph a performance by an Olympic gold medalist, and I realized: this is the face and the sight of an athlete who has achieved back-to-back Olympic titles. Even while being overwhelmed by Hanyu’s expression and gaze, and by the atmosphere of the jubilant crowd, I kept firing the shutter in rapid succession. As I kept pressing the shutter, I could feel my emotions rising. I kept telling myself, ‘Calm down, calm down,’ but I couldn’t suppress my feelings. Looking back at the photos afterward, it really was just a fleeting moment. But to me, it felt as if time had stopped. Of course, Hanyu’s SEIMEI photographed head-on would have conveyed the brilliance of the performance in a way different from my own images, and there must have been other excellent shots as well. But when Yuzuru Hanyu, the darling of this era, achieved the remarkable feat of winning back-to-back gold medals, I wanted to take a photograph that would convey that greatness to future generations. Even when I reviewed the international broadcast, Hanyu from this angle does not appear. This is not something I say to boast, but an episode meant to emphasize just how extraordinary Hanyu is. He is the kind of athlete who, even from a position a photographer has arbitrarily decided is the “perfect shot,” delivers an expression beyond imagination. That’s Hanyu. I felt as if I were being shown something surreal.”

 

What kind of relationship exists between the photographer and the subject? From Kogaito’s photographs, it almost seems as though a kind of ‘conversation’ is taking place through the camera.

 

But Kogaito shakes his head.

 

“I don’t think Hanyu is ‘communicating’ with us photographers. At least, I don’t feel that way myself. So then, what are we pursuing when we photograph Hanyu? What do we rely on when we point our lenses at him? I think the answer is his energy. From his performances, gestures, and various other aspects, I sometimes feel as though I’m being struck by his energy. All we can do is respond to the energy coming toward us by projecting our own small amount of energy in return. Even if it’s something very small, we express it through the act of pointing the lens and taking a photograph. If we do nothing in the face of such immense energy, we are simply overwhelmed. So we go in with everything we have, but then we are bounced back or scattered by the energy Hanyu emits. I think the sparks and fragments that scatter at the moment of that collision are what photographs are.”

 

He had captured, for the first time, a photograph that symbolized the moment of winning an Olympic gold medal. He felt certain of it. The hand that had been pressing the shutter had become rough and dry.

 

“They say that in tense moments, your palms get sweaty, but even indoors, figure skating venues are cold and dry, and your body gets chilled. In my case, my skin becomes rough and cracked. It gets so painful that I can’t even bend my fingers. In the past, when I wasn’t as careful about keeping warm, I would even find myself shivering from the cold.”

 

The next day, the front page of Sponichi featured a photograph of Hanyu taken by Kogaito.

 

A large headline read, “Hanyu becomes a legend,”  and a full-page image of Hanyu letting out a triumphant roar was featured.

 

Behind it, in gold lettering, were the words “Gold (No. 1 at the PyeongChang Olympics).” Additional headlines highlighting his achievement were also lined up, such as “Japan's first consecutive victory in Winter Olympic history” and “The 1000th gold medal in Winter Olympic history,” alongside images of Hanyu standing on the podium.

 

“Looking back on when Hanyu won the gold medal at the PyeongChang Olympics, I feel proud that this photograph became an iconic image of that moment.”

 

This photograph was selected for the Sports Category Award (International) for outstanding news photography of 2018, presented by the Tokyo Press Photographers Association (as of July 2024, comprising 34 member organizations including newspapers, news agencies, and broadcasters).

 

This photograph, too, does not depict Hanyu performing.

 

Yet it was honored as news photography. Even photographers in newspaper reporting, who have long sought “conventional” shots, must have been overwhelmed by Hanyu’s expression.

 

“Looking back on my career as a photographer, that day remains the most unforgettable. I have absolutely no regrets. Of course, in retrospect, there were risks. I was working based on my own assumption—that Hanyu would win the gold medal, deliver a brilliant performance, and turn toward me so I could capture the perfect shot. I believed in it, but my prediction could have been wrong. However, the moment I had imagined and hoped to capture was returned to me in the form of an even more perfect, decisive photograph that exceeded all expectations. I had prepared for this moment based on a single photograph at the Boston World Championships, and it all paid off. And being selected for an award, and recognized by photographers from other newspapers as well, was deeply moving.”

 

At the same time, a new desire began to emerge.

 

“I want to photograph Hanyu even more. I still haven’t fully brought out his appeal. Now that I think about it, the victory pose with arms outstretched is something that could be considered a classic in sports photography. As someone who had avoided ‘conventional’ shots, I was pleased to have proven that I could also capture strong images within a broader sense of ‘convention.’ However, in terms of my own original expression, I felt there was still much more to pursue. So rather than feeling a sense of completion, my desire to photograph Hanyu more and to pursue images that only Hanyu can produce grew even stronger.”

 

When Hanyu declared at the press conference the day after winning the gold medal that he would attempt the quadruple axel, Kogaito felt a sense of relief.

 

From here, a new legend of Hanyu would begin once again…

 

Thinking that, he could no longer contain the excitement rising in his heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Alternative CN translations:

https://weibo.com/1683522853/P8XfBggKe

https://weibo.com/1683522853/Pajt89stc

[yuzurujenn]

*Machine translation. Inaccuracies may exist*

 

 

Chapter 5: Individuality

 

5.1 A new era of sports reporting created by social media

 

Spoiler

After returning to Japan following the PyeongChang Olympics in February 2018, Hanyu withdrew from the World Figure Skating Championships in March because his right ankle had not yet fully recovered. Hanyu's first public appearance since the Olympics was on April 13th at "Continues with Wings."

 

Furthermore, he appeared in a triumphant homecoming parade in his hometown of Sendai. Countless local residents and fans from across Japan crowded along the parade route.

 

Having overcome the setback of a serious injury to win back-to-back Olympic titles, the reigning champion attracted more attention than ever before. Kogaito followed every step of his journey, never taking his lens off Hanyu.

 

At the same time, Sponichi began exploring ways to bring images of Hanyu to readers and fans more frequently and in a more real-time, live format.

 

One prime example was the use of social media. A dedicated Instagram account was created to showcase Sponichi’s photos. The aim was to reach a wider audience of fans and readers by continuously uploading images of Hanyu.

 

The idea originated with Nagakubo, whom Kogaito described as having “a producer’s talent.” Guided by Nagakubo, Kogaito also began to develop a greater awareness of sharing Hanyu’s captivating photos with the world through social media.

 

The first photograph Kogaito ever posted on Instagram was one taken at Fantasy on Ice 2018.

 

The ice show, which kicks off in late May with its Makuhari performances in Chiba, attracts attention every year for its spectacular collaborations between famous artists and skaters. And at the center of this show was Hanyu, who played a leading role.

 

The show opened on May 25th that year, and the event was open to the media that day. Kogaito also went to the Makuhari venue.

 

In recent years, the media has been rapidly shifting its focus toward online distribution. While newspapers generate revenue by selling print editions through home delivery, train stations, and convenience stores, most online articles are distributed for free, with income generated through web advertising based on the number of user page views.

 

Some point out the contradiction between readers paying for newspapers and the free online distribution of articles. However, in an industry facing declining readership, newspapers have little choice. Revenue from web advertising has now become an important source of income.

 

That said, sports reporting at the time still placed far greater emphasis on print media. Posting photographs to Sponichi’s Instagram account was still very much in an experimental stage.

 

Kogaito vividly remembers that performance in Makuhari.

 

“Because Nagakubo had told me to, I always felt that I had to post on Instagram. But my top priority was still sending photos for the print edition first.”

 

The newspaper coverage at the time was not particularly extensive. Compared with today, when a two-page, poster-style spread featuring Hanyu’s photos would appear the day after a show, that would have been unthinkable. Even with such limited coverage, Kogaito approached the shoot with strong dedication.

 

The photograph published in the newspaper captures the moment when Hanyu's bare right arm is lowered and his left arm, covered by his costume, is raised.

 

His costume flutters in the wind, revealing a glimpse of his well-toned abdominal muscles. Hanyu’s androgynous expression, set against his beautiful physique, contrasts with the unexpectedly masculine definition of his abs despite his slender frame, creating a striking coexistence of opposites.

 

The photograph reflected both the athletic physique shaped by the immense training that led him to become the first skater to land a quadruple loop and set a new record for the highest score in figure skating history, as well as the beauty of his expression as a performer. It subtly hinted at the new direction Kogaito intended to take in capturing Hanyu’s charm.

 

In other words, for Kogaito, this represented a major theme following the PyeongChang Olympics: "capturing scenes that embody Hanyu’s expression, not just his performance."

 

After submitting several other photographs from the venue, Kogaito headed home alone. With preparations for the following day already underway, there was no time to remain inside the arena to upload images for Instagram. Locked out of the venue, Kogaito hurried toward Kaihin-Makuhari Station on the JR Keiyo Line.

 

When he reached the station platform, he immediately opened his laptop.

 

For his first Instagram post, Kogaito chose a photograph that best captured Hanyu’s “beauty.”

 

The image shows Hanyu with a delicate, fleeting expression, his right hand raised to his mouth, gliding with his right knee bent. His lace-like costume flows in the wind, highlighting the soft curve of his shoulders.

 

“Hanyu’s beauty lies in his expression, his fingertips, and the lines of his body created together with his costume. In this shot, I was especially struck by the beauty of his shoulder line.”

 

He had just finished posting and was on the train heading back to his nearest station when he received a message from Nagakubo, who had been checking the online reactions to Hanyu’s photos.

 

Fans openly praised the photographs capturing Hanyu’s charm.

 

Kogaito was once again struck by the difference in response compared with traditional newspaper reporting.

 

“As I’ve mentioned before, until now, no matter how good I thought a photo was, I had never received any feedback to confirm it. I thought that was normal for a newspaper photographer. Editors or senior colleagues might appreciate my work, but I had no idea who was looking at my photos, or how they were being viewed in the next morning’s paper. Because of that, there was a sense of emptiness, as if the newspaper simply passed through readers’ hands. I could only express my own commitment and how my approach differed from other photographers through my photos. Readers might read the article and see the photo as little more than an afterthought. But Hanyu’s fans were different. They truly appreciated the photographer’s work. And not only that, they wrote online about how good the photos were, how they touched their hearts, how wonderful they were. The internet has anonymity, and there can be issues with defamatory comments. But receiving such direct feedback was both incredibly gratifying and surprising for me. My career as a photographer up until then was, in a sense, lonely. I thought, ‘I just need to take photos I’m satisfied with, that’s enough.’ I didn’t dislike that way of working. But knowing that there are people who cherish the photos I take so deeply has given me a new kind of joy and fulfillment.”

 

Amid these circumstances, Sponichi made a major decision: starting from the season after the Olympics, it would send photographers to every competition in which Hanyu participated, including those held overseas.

 

Even if a reporter could not go to the venue, the company would still distribute its own photographs. This was a policy driven more by the photography department than the editorial desk.

 

Newspapers were being forced to cut reporting costs amid declining circulation caused by falling readership.

 

Sponichi was by no means an exception. However, Nagakubo and Kogaito were convinced that it was worth going to photograph Hanyu, even if it meant foregoing assignments covering other sports.

 

Of course, there was also a business angle: Hanyu helped expand the sports newspaper market, which had long been dominated by middle-aged and older men.

 

Above all, there was also a sense of mission to respond to fans who supported “Kogaito’s photographs” as something distinct from typical sports photography.

 

Another factor behind this decision was Hanyu’s photo book, “Dancin’ on The Edge: PyeongChang Figure Skating Photo Collection,” released in March 2018 shortly after the PyeongChang Olympics. The book, which primarily featured Kogaito’s photographs, was a commercial success.

 

In addition to the photos published daily in newspapers as part of sports reporting, images that were well received on social media, as well as shots slightly outside the realm of competition and less suited to print coverage, could be compiled and published in photo books as a separate form of journalism. Nagakubo and Kogaito had already come up with the idea of creating a photo book while following Hanyu throughout the season.

 

Sports photographs had traditionally been “consumed” in print and online, only to be buried over time. As a result, amid budget cuts, many newspapers became hesitant to send photographers on assignments.

 

However, in an effort to resist this trend, Nagakubo planned a photo book.

 

It’s not enough just to publish them in print or online. Compiling all of Hanyu’s expressions, performances, and gestures into a single photo book would open up new opportunities for presentation.

 

“After all, Sponichi has Kogaito as its photographer.”

 

Nagakubo reflects on that period with confidence.

 

Of course, such a plan was only possible because of the existence of Yuzuru Hanyu. Hanyu even changed the framework of sports photography in newspapers.

 

5.2 The story behind the creation of a full-page, poster-style photograph

 

Spoiler

"I'm the type of person who prefers to take photos quietly."

 

Throughout the interview, Kogaito maintained a humble demeanor. Even when his skills as a photographer were praised, he neither became carried away nor basked in the compliments.

 

Yet it was during the bustling ‘festival’ of the PyeongChang Olympics, where Yuzuru Hanyu made history, that this naturally reserved man found himself at the center of it all. For Kogaito, it became a defining tournament, one in which he stepped onto the field of battle as a photographer in pursuit of an iconic image.

 

And so, Sponichi adopted a policy of sending a photographer to every competition in which Hanyu participated.

 

Once again, he would be able to follow the champion’s figure.

 

"Please let me be his exclusive photographer."

 

Before the start of the season following the Olympics, Kogaito made up his mind and approached Nagakubo with a request. It was an act driven by his conviction that there were photographs only he himself could capture.

 

Kogaito describes Hanyu as being like "the sun."

 

"The light that Hanyu emits is incredibly dazzling. He does not merely shine on his own; he illuminates everything around him. That is why even someone like me, a photographer who has experienced many setbacks, has been able to receive that sunlight simply by continuing to point my lens at him. It made me want to photograph Hanyu even more, and to convey different sides of him to readers and fans through my photographs."

 

At the PyeongChang Olympics, Kogaito captured what he considers one of his finest images of Hanyu as an athlete. Beyond the glory of this absolute champion, who achieved back-to-back Olympic titles, what new kind of brilliance would await him next?

 

Kogaito's desire grew stronger to photograph Hanyu not only as an athlete, but as an artist and performer—to create photographic works of art using his camera.

 

And one more thing... He also wanted to capture, through his camera, the moment Hanyu succeeded in landing the quadruple Axel, which Hanyu himself had described after the PyeongChang Olympics as his “greatest motivation.”

 

No one can foresee when, where, or at what moment he will attempt it, or whether he will succeed.

 

Even Hanyu himself was no exception. An unprecedented, seemingly insurmountable ultimate form of the “King's Jump.” Kogaito confesses, “I wanted to be there at that moment. I couldn’t suppress my desire to capture it with my own camera, wondering what kind of photograph it would become.”

 

It was because he had met Hanyu, and because of Hanyu's incredible performances, that Kogaito became so eager to point his camera at him.

 

However, Kogaito’s desire to photograph Hanyu was likely shared by other photographers within Sponichi. With the four-year Olympic cycle over, there may also have been younger photographers hoping to take over the assignment. Even Nagakubo himself probably felt the occasional desire to go and photograph Hanyu’s competitions.

 

However, Kogaito could not deny his desire to personally photograph every competition in which Hanyu took part.

 

Having declared to be "exclusive," cancellations due to illness were not an option. He would have to prioritize work over his private life. Fully aware of what that commitment meant, Kogaito conveyed his resolve, and Nagakubo simply replied, “All right,” and gave his approval.

 

What was Nagakubo really thinking?

 

When asked about his feelings at the time, Nagakubo recalled with a wry smile, “He stole all the best parts from me.”

 

“As a manager, I want to send photographers with passion out into the field. At that time, when Kogaito raised his hand, there may have been others who also wanted to go, but no one actually made their intentions known. If you want to photograph Yuzuru Hanyu as a photographer, you should step forward, even if your rival is Kogaito. But no one did. Also, Kogaito is always the first to arrive on site and the last to leave. In the end, photographers with passion are the strongest. If you miss a shot, the basic principle is to make up for it with an even better one next time. It’s not a matter of technique. If you keep arriving earlier than others, leaving later than others, and repeating that process while waiting for opportunities, your chance to make up for it will definitely come. That’s what Kogaito is capable of.”

 

Nagakubo had closely observed Kogaito’s work up through the PyeongChang Olympics.

 

He had also heard the same from other photographers. That was why he decided to keep him on the assignment.

 

Deep down, wasn’t Nagakubo also hoping to take the photographs himself?

 

To that question, he answered with a wry smile: “Kogaito and I are completely different in terms of photographic styles. It would just confuse the readers (laughs). So it’s fine if that guy goes.”

 

Thanks to Nagakubo’s decision, Kogaito would accompany Hanyu to every competition from the new season onward.

 

Since it was the season following the Olympics, even at Hanyu’s press conference there wasn't the same bustle seen during the Games themselves, and the number of photographers was limited.

 

In a somewhat calmer environment, photographing Hanyu once again made him realize what a captivating subject he was.

 

“Whether consciously or unconsciously, Hanyu is an athlete who always carries a sense of being watched. This applies not only to us photographers, but also to television cameras and the audience. From the top of his head to his fingertips and even his toes, he performs with an extraordinary awareness in everything he does. For example, a photographer might capture a good angle, but when looking back at it, small details such as the angle of a finger can ruin what would otherwise have been a great photograph. In such cases, the disappointment is all the greater precisely because the angle and moment were so good. However, that never happens with Hanyu’s photographs. He is so attentive to every detail that no matter when you point the lens at him, the result is an image perfect down to the smallest detail. That is why I couldn’t suppress a sense of exhilaration.”

 

Hanyu’s first competition of the 2018–19 season was the Autumn Classic held in Canada.

 

In the post-Olympic season, Hanyu paid homage to iconic programs by his admired skaters, introducing new music for both his short program and free skate.

 

His short program was set to Johnny Weir’s “Otonal,” while his free skate was an arrangement of Evgeni Plushenko’s “Tribute to Nijinsky,” titled “Origin.”

 

Hanyu led after the short program and went on to win the competition with his combined total score, but he was not satisfied with his performance.

 

After the free skate, Kogaito on site received a message from the desk. The accompanying article, reflecting Hanyu’s state of mind, was written in a tone of “burning fighting spirit” ahead of his next competitions, and the request was for a photograph that conveyed that mood.

 

Kogaito sent a photograph of Hanyu kneeling on one knee on the ice, his expression showing a sense of resolve for battle.

 

The headline read: “Hanyu’s fire ignites on his return to victory.” Kogaito’s photograph added color to both the article and the headline.

 

Meanwhile, Kogaito also sent a photograph from the medal ceremony showing Hanyu stretching up on his tiptoes as he stood alongside Cha Jun-hwan of South Korea and Roman Sadovsky of Canada, both of whom trained at the same rink.

 

Although it appeared only as a modest image in the newspaper, Kogaito explained, “I thought this was exactly the kind of photograph that fans, or rather, people on Instagram would love.”

 

“I think there was still a gap between the kinds of photos fans wanted and the ones used in Sponichi's print edition. But at that time, rather than drastically changing the newspaper’s layout, I felt it would be better to use Instagram effectively to bridge that gap. In the print edition, photos were selected to match the tone of the article, such as “burning fighting spirit.” I couldn’t tell the editor that I wanted them to use other photos I had taken. But on Instagram, I could post freely. I could share whatever I wanted. Instagram helped bridge that gap, and for me it became a very valuable tool.”

 

At the Grand Prix event in Finland, Hanyu’s first competition of the GP series, Kogaito was the only sports newspaper photographer present. Or at least, that is how he remembers it.

 

At that time, Kogaito was consciously aiming not for competition-focused images like those from the free skate at the Autumn Classic, but for photographs that emphasized his own distinctive style.

 

“It was around this competition that my personal style started to come out more strongly.”

 

The photograph Kogaito showed was taken on the day of the official practice for the short program.

 

The image is blurred near the rink boards, with focus placed on his face. Captured from behind in profile, the champion looks straight ahead with a sharp gaze. The defined muscles in his right arm symbolize his physical strength, while his back suggests a well-trained physique. Yet, his skin is remarkably translucent, and his expression is that of a competitor about to face the competition.

 

The lower half of the frame dissolves into blur with the rink-side boards, making only the upper half appear to float into view, as if tracing the outline of his head and face.

 

While the photograph has an overwhelming presence, it deviates from the "standard" of sports photography.

 

“At this point, I was beginning to shift away from standard sports photography and toward a more artistic expression in my photographs.”

 

Unfortunately, this photograph did not make it onto the printed page. Instead, a performance shot was used. The desk’s brief had also called for a “dynamic movement shot.”

 

However, the popularity of Kogaito’s photographs online also began to bring about changes.

 

At the next Grand Prix series event in which Hanyu competed, the Rostelecom Cup in Russia, Sponichi also produced a special feature, following its New Year’s Day issue that year.

 

It was a feature that dedicated an entire page to a photograph of Hanyu. It could be detached and displayed like a poster, and it was so well received by fans that other sports newspapers later followed suit. At the Rostelecom Cup, it appeared only in the Osaka-headquarters edition, but from subsequent events Hanyu competed in, it was also regularly published in the Tokyo-headquarters edition.

 

The commemorative photograph from the Rostelecom Cup was, of course, taken by Kogaito. It captures the moment just before the step sequence in the short program.

 

“His face looks beautiful, and you can almost feel the flow of the air around him. We chose a shot that is quite different from the atmosphere of our previous pages.”

 

The following free skate featured a photograph of Hanyu performing an Ina Bauer with his chest dramatically arched, alongside the title ‘GP series 10 VICTORIES,’ signifying his victory at the Rostelecom Cup and his tenth overall Grand Prix Series win.

 

In fact, the idea for this special feature did not come from Nagakubo or the photography department, but from a reporter covering figure skating.

 

This reporter is said to have said at a project planning meeting:

 

“There is no skater as visually compelling as Hanyu. Honestly, we don’t even need a written article.”

 

For journalists who rely on the written word, there are limits to how Hanyu’s expressiveness can be conveyed in text. This is something I (the author) am constantly aware of. Are these words sufficient? Is there language capable of getting any closer to the essence of Hanyu’s expression? At times like these, I too am overwhelmed when I see Kogaito's photographs. It may sound like an excuse, but it is also a limitation of the written word.

 

Kogaito was surprised.

 

How do the highly individualistic reporters, each with their own quirks, feel about photographs receiving more attention than their articles? Although they cover assignments as part of the Sponichi team and are colleagues, this was still a lingering concern.

 

“I was very happy when the writer suggested, ‘Let’s feature the photos more prominently.’”

 

Newspaper pages typically contain about 10 characters per line. This is referred to as a ‘column.’ A single page consists of 15 columns of space. By filling an entire page with a photograph, the page takes on a poster-like appearance, allowing readers to tear it out and keep it.

 

A great deal of pressure weighed on Kogaito. The larger the image used, the more noticeable its quality became.

 

Taking small, cropped images of the subject is unacceptable, as it results in a loss of image quality. Instead, the lens must be focused on Hanyu and he must be captured as large in frame as possible. It is necessary to pinpoint the exact moment to be captured and photograph it in close-up. This demanded greater technical skill than ever before, but the resulting photographs became signature pages for Sponichi.

 

Realizing that pressure and a sense of fulfillment grew in proportion to each other, Kogaito took on this major assignment.

 

This project also brought about changes within Sponichi.

 

“Even after we started using photos with a different style than before, Hanyu’s photos were still often seen as just one tool to complement the article or make headlines stand out. So when a brightly colored headline was placed next to a striking facial expression, or when the final page layout did not match the image I had in mind when submitting the article, I was sometimes disappointed, thinking, ‘My intentions haven’t been reflected.’ However, as fans began purchasing these poster-style pages, Hanyu’s photos were published without large headlines or overlapping text, preserving the image’s original space. The editorial staff responsible for page layout also began to treat the photographs with greater care.

In coverage of Hanyu, it became a case of “photo first,” and the relationship between page design and photography gradually changed.”

 

Because of this, Kogaito was able to fully pursue Hanyu’s dynamism and began actively posting his work not only in the print edition but also on the internet.

 

Even so, at that time Kogaito still had not fully grasped the importance of social media.

 

While he had a web-first mindset and promptly sent photos for online posting, he did not ‘ego-search’ for reactions on the internet.

 

Meanwhile, Kogaito’s innovative photographs revealing new aspects of Hanyu’s charm became widely known among fans, and some even began referring to him as a ‘god.’

 

While online reactions were mostly shared via emails from Nagakubo, who frequently checked them, Kogaito was one day surprised by something he saw online.

 

November 27, 2018. At the same time that actress Miki Nakatani's marriage topped Yahoo! Japan's real-time search trend rankings, the surname "Kogaito" was ranked second.

 

The day before, it was announced that a photograph of Hanyu winning the gold medal at the PyeongChang Olympics had won the Sports Category Award (Overseas) at an awards ceremony held by the Tokyo Press Photographers Association recognizing outstanding photojournalism.

 

He began receiving messages from high school classmates and being approached by photographers from other newspapers, as the commotion around him grew.

 

"This is getting serious."

 

The 'God Photographer.'

 

Looking back, Kogaito says:

 

“I think a huge part of it was Nagakubo’s ability to promote talent. He took an interest in my photographs and tried to promote them, saying something like, ‘This is the guy who photographs Hanyu.’ Fans began to respond positively to my work, and eventually I came to be called a ‘god’ online. To be honest, I was quite taken aback. I never took photographs to attract attention in the first place. If I could turn back time, I think it would have been better not to show my face. I never expected to receive this much attention. That’s the kind of person I am, but it’s different when it comes to photography. I don’t want the photographs I take to remain in the shadows just because I prefer not to stand out. I want the photographs themselves to be in the spotlight. Hanyu is like the ‘sun,’ and the light he emits is so strong that it ended up illuminating me as well. Still, I am deeply grateful that my work has been so highly appreciated. I am truly humbled to be called a ‘god.’ But I don’t want to run away from such expectations. Instead, they have become a driving force that helps me grow further, motivating me to take photographs worthy of that name.”

 

More than the attention his name received, Kogaito was made to realize once again the weight of responsibility that comes with photographing Yuzuru Hanyu.

 

5.3 Life at a crossroads with the absolute champion

 

Spoiler

News of what was happening around Kogaito naturally spread to the photo departments of various newspapers. In the 2019–20 season, the trend of following Sponichi intensified. The number of media outlets covering events on site also increased, and the quiet environment Kogaito had hoped for did not last long.

 

Even so, he remained sincerely focused on his subject, Hanyu.

 

At the Autumn Classic, the first competition of the season, a photograph capturing the transitional moments in the performance drew strong attention.

 

It was a photograph capturing the instant right after a spin had unraveled. A fleeting, fragile expression with tension released was caught by the lens. Even the movement of his hands carried a delicate sensitivity.

 

“Typically, figure skating photographs focus on the ‘highlight’ poses and finishing moments of a performance. However, the transitions between those ‘highlight’ moments, that is, the ‘in-between’ parts, are often overlooked. I shot this photograph based on the hypothesis that, in Hanyu’s performances, even those transitions might contain beautiful, decisive moments. Looking at the actual image, frankly, it completely exceeded my expectations as a photographer. It felt as if I had uncovered a scene that had been lying hidden. Of course, Hanyu had no idea I was targeting that exact moment. But his performances were conscious even of those ‘transitions.’ This was true even for jumps—the entry, the landing. He wasn’t simply skating for scoring elements; he was attentive even to the slightest, easily overlooked details.”

 

With a single photograph, Kogaito captured the source of Hanyu’s greatness.

 

At the following Grand Prix Series event, Skate Canada International, he encountered an unexpected moment.

 

After the press conference, Kogaito waited in the corridor where the skaters passed on their way out, camera in hand.

 

Other photographers stayed in the press conference room, aiming their cameras at Hanyu. Kogaito took photos from several angles before leaving the room.

 

When he saw the lights illuminating the corridor, his senses were drawn to the interplay of light and background.

 

“I thought it would make a cool photo if I photographed Hanyu walking through there.”

 

After finishing the press conference, Hanyu came out. As Kogaito raised his camera and pressed the shutter, Hanyu suddenly spoke to him as he approached.

 

He said, mentioning the names of other skaters Kogaito had photographed: “Those were really cool!”

 

Kogaito had never expected to speak with Hanyu. To him, Hanyu was like the sun, while he was simply one of many photographers in the background, playing a supporting role and quietly working behind the lens.

 

Even if a photo caught Hanyu’s eye, he never imagined that his face or name would be recognized. That was what he had thought.

 

However, Hanyu clearly recognized Kogaito and spoke to him directly.

 

For a moment, his finger froze on the shutter.

 

“I’m older than him, but embarrassingly, I got so nervous my body froze. My heart was pounding, my pulse was racing, I was getting excited. I don’t even know what state I was in, but that’s how it was (laughs).”

 

When Hanyu stopped and spoke to him with a smile, not a single clever word came to mind.

 

“All I could manage was, ‘Thank you very much.’”

 

Why did Hanyu mention the names of other skaters? Kogaito explains with certainty:

 

“Fans who know Hanyu’s character will understand this, but he would never say something like, ‘My photos were cool.’ The fact that he praised other skaters’ photos felt very typical of him. I was also deeply moved that he had looked not only at his own photos, but also at those of other skaters. That single comment became a great source of encouragement for me as a photographer, pushing me to work even harder.”

 

Around this time, a ripple of unease began to stir in Kogaito’s heart.

 

Other newspapers’ photographers were beginning to capture similar scenes and angles of Hanyu.

 

“I may be overthinking it, but I definitely felt that I was being imitated. Because of company policy, I started actively uploading photos to social media. That meant people could see what kind of photos I was taking. I noticed that my shooting style and photo choices were becoming similar to others’. But for me, it wasn’t a matter of happiness or frustration; it simply made me realize that as long as I was taking photos that others could copy, I was just one of many photographers. To photograph Hanyu, a one-of-a-kind figure, I realized I needed to take photos that no one else could imitate.”

 

Kogaito was not resting on his laurels.

 

To convey Hanyu’s appeal, he sought to develop a unique style that no one else could match, one that other photographers would not attempt to capture. This determination became the driving force behind the photographs that would later define his signature work.

 

5.4 Pursuing a unique style: "High-Key" and "Kogaito Blue"

 

Spoiler

To establish the "individuality" of his photographs.

 

Kogaito embarked on a new experiment. One of these was changing one of his camera lenses starting with the NHK Trophy of the 2019–20 season.

 

The new addition was a 135mm lens. Kogaito asserts, "At least among newspaper photographers, I was the first to use a 135mm lens for figure skating coverage."

 

In figure skating coverage, photographers typically prepare three lenses: one for close range, one for mid-range, and one for long range. For performance shots, a 400mm lens is primarily used for long-distance images, while a 135mm lens is used for mid-range shots, such as when skaters perform close to the rinkside. Traditionally, a 70–200mm zoom lens with a variable focal length was standard. This was because it offered great flexibility, covering both close-up and telephoto shooting. In contrast, the defining characteristic of a 135mm lens is its shallow depth of field.

 

In extreme terms, when photographing a person’s face, if you focus on the nose, the eyes will already appear blurred. Because it is a lens that is difficult to focus, it has traditionally been avoided in fast-moving sports photography.

 

However, Kogaito reflects:

 

"A shallow depth of field means the background is strongly blurred. That’s an advantage. Because the background is blurred, for example, when Hanyu is wearing a white jersey, the boundary between the jersey and the ice behind him becomes indistinct. The image takes on a slightly soft feel, which is also a characteristic of my photography. Moreover, fortunately, or perhaps unusually, I never experienced the difficulty in focusing that is considered a disadvantage of this lens. So I began shooting with a shallow depth of field without feeling any real risk."

 

Nowadays, almost all figure skating photographers have followed Kogaito’s lead and use a 135mm lens, but at the time it was shocking.

 

Kogaito went into shooting holding a camera fitted with a 400mm lens, while another camera with a 135mm lens hung around his neck. He also kept a camera with a 50mm lens close at hand. This 135mm lens was a new technique he adopted starting with the NHK Trophy. He aimed to capture Hanyu’s practice sessions, as well as his arrival at and departure from the venue.

 

He pressed the shutter as Hanyu entered the venue for practice.

 

The scene shows Hanyu raising his left arm to swing his bag onto his shoulder. His gaze is directed slightly off to the side.

 

With the official practice about to begin, or perhaps the competition itself the following day, his sharp gaze seemed to reflect the heart of a champion facing a challenge.

 

Hanyu was wearing a white Japan jersey, and the background wall was also white. Kogaito's photograph, taken with a 135mm lens, blurs the jersey and background, making them appear as one.

 

The outlines of his body are indistinct, and even his translucent expression seems to blend into the background. It is an image that draws the viewer into the fleeting moment it captures, but Kogaito responds with a wry smile.

 

“I changed lenses for this photo, and suddenly it went this far removed from a standard photograph. I thought, ‘This might be good.’ But the reaction within the company wasn’t favorable, and the photo wasn’t used.”

 

Furthermore, Kogaito’s technique of deliberately shooting in a brighter style led to a situation that broke through long-standing conventions of photojournalism.

 

Kogaito faced a major internal conflict.

 

Ice reflects light so strongly that it appears to be glowing. When skaters on the ice are photographed using automatic camera settings, the brightness of the ice pulls the exposure, making the skater appear darker. Kogaito also disliked the resulting yellowish tint in people’s skin, and sometimes in the image as a whole.

 

At this time, Kogaito’s greatest challenge was his inability to capture Hanyu’s “translucence” in his photographs.

 

“The Hanyu I see on the ice has has pale, translucent skin. But when I shoot according to the brightness of the ice, his skin ends up taking on a yellowish tone, and that translucence doesn’t come through in the photograph. If a photographer’s principle is to faithfully reproduce what is on the scene, then failing to capture Hanyu’s translucence goes against that principle. There is a clear gap between what I see with my own eyes and the resulting photograph. The Hanyu I see is not like that. He has much more translucence than that.”

 

Therefore, prioritizing the faithful capture of Hanyu’s “translucence,” Kogaito conceived the idea of using a technique called “high-key,” deliberately brightening the overall image to create a fresh, luminous tone.

 

In the world of photography, when an image becomes overly bright compared to its original colors, this is called “overexposure.” It is a negative term.

 

However, when Hanyu was photographed using a “high-key” approach, one that resembles overexposure, his skin tone, which would normally have a yellowish tint, appeared closer to its natural, translucent white.

 

From then on, Kogaito began to prefer shooting Hanyu in a high-key setting.

 

“You might call it ‘overexposed,’ but when you shoot with typical exposure settings, you end up exposing for the ice, so the skin tones drift away from their true color. Of course, if a rookie photographer submitted such a photo, they’d definitely get yelled at. They’d say the ice is completely blown out white, and you can't even see the trajectory of the skate edges. But I believed that what was considered ‘overexposed’ at the time actually captured Hanyu more faithfully.”

 

Another unique aspect of Kogaito’s approach:

 

This was a shooting technique in which white is rendered as blue, creating a distinctive color tone that fans and photographers in the industry dubbed “Kogaito Blue.”

 

Photographers working for news organizations are expected to faithfully reproduce the colors of the scene.

 

“White should be photographed as white.”

 

In news reporting, it’s common to see an assistant director (AD) stand in front of television cameras holding a white sheet of paper and ask each cameraman, “Is white okay?” This is the process of adjusting the camera so that white is captured as white.

 

However, Kogaito adjusts his settings so that white appears blue. This is done to express Hanyu’s “translucence.” He believes that adding a bluish tint brings the image closer to the “translucence” of Hanyu’s skin. As a result, the entire image takes on a subtle blue cast, and even the ice in the background acquires a bluish tint.

 

That became "Kogaito Blue."

 

“It’s crazy, isn’t it? It’s a photo that completely deviates from convention. But for me, this color tone is what I want my photographs of Hanyu to express.”

 

There is not the slightest hesitation on Kogaito’s face as he openly admits this.

 

“The first photo I sent from the NHK Trophy, the one where I really went all out, was ultimately not used in the print edition (laughs). But fans who saw it online left comments like, ‘He really went for it!’ I was happy that it was well received.”

 

In brightly lit venues such as the Olympic arena, there was no need to force a high-key style. But at Makomanai Sekisui Heim Ice Arena in Hokkaido, where the NHK Trophy was held, the overall lighting was dim, making the effect particularly striking.

 

Furthermore, after making white appear blue, when viewed through the new lens, the background seems to melt away into a bluish hue.

 

Kogaito smiles as he says this:

 

“The world I see through the new lens appears blue, but I didn’t intentionally make the photos blue. It’s just that the images ended up with a bluish tint as a result of adjusting color and exposure based on my own intuition. If anything, I wanted to capture Hanyu in his true colors, not the color of the rink’s ice. For me, the world that has come to be called ‘Kogaito Blue’ feels very satisfying.”

 

His photographic aesthetic also began to undergo a significant transformation.

 

“Until the PyeongChang Olympics, I think I was still prioritizing moments and working within the framework of sports reporting. When Hanyu won the Olympic gold medal, my aim in capturing the most symbolic moment was still very much about taking a photo that stood out within sports reporting. I was shooting with standard color and exposure, still operating within that framework to some extent. But from that season’s NHK Trophy onward, I began to break out of that framework and push beyond its boundaries.”

 

There were also changes in the surrounding environment. Hanyu’s popularity continued to rise, and his fan base expanded beyond Japan to overseas.

 

In addition to pursuing the unprecedented feat of landing a quadruple Axel, he possesses an overwhelming presence in the intangible realm of artistic expression, something that cannot be measured by numbers. Off the ice, his gentle smile and androgynous appearance made him highly sought after for commercials, including cosmetics advertisements.

 

Taking advantage of the situation, skilled photographers from various media outlets began making their way to figure skating events.

 

"As I've said before, I don't consider myself a particularly skilled photographer. So if everyone were photographing the same scene at the same time, my photos would simply get lost among the rest. Even after the PyeongChang Olympics, the company continued giving me opportunities to photograph Hanyu because they understood how strongly I wanted to capture the Hanyu that only I could photograph, to focus more on his expressiveness and artistry. They responded to that conviction of mine. So I decided that, even if it meant breaking away from the conventions of the photography world, even if it meant taking risks, I would create photographs with a sharp, distinctive edge."

 

Kogaito skillfully used a 135mm lens, accepting the risk of image blur as he pressed the shutter to capture Hanyu’s "transparency," the quality he sought to portray.

 

The camera settings were also shifted to a bluish tint. The difference in color between the photos of Hanyu and those of other newspapers was immediately apparent.

 

In pursuit of that sense of "transparency," he prioritized Hanyu’s expression, even if it meant missing fast-moving jumps and other dramatic moments.

 

His photographic style also gradually moved away from traditional news photography.

 

For example, at the Four Continents Championships held in Seoul, South Korea in February 2020, Hanyu made the decision to revert to the programs he had used during the Olympic season.

 

His short program was set to Chopin’s piano piece "Ballade No. 1," and his free skate to "SEIMEI." Using his "winning programs" for the first time since the Olympic season, Hanyu achieved a remarkable feat.

 

In addition to the Olympics, the World Championships, the Four Continents Championships, and the Grand Prix Final, he also won the World Junior Championships and the Junior Grand Prix Final during his junior years, achieving a "Super Slam" by winning all six major international competitions.

 

At that time, Kogaito was capturing a photograph completely unrelated to the performance itself.

 

He captured the moment during the exhibition finale, when Hanyu unexpectedly fell as the winners gathered for a commemorative group photo, yet still wore an innocent, beaming smile.

 

This wasn't a scene symbolizing the heroic figure and strength of the champion who achieved the Super Slam feat. Nor was it an iconic moment from his Olympic programs, "Ballade No. 1" or "SEIMEI."

 

Rather than typical sports news photography, Kogaito captured a photograph of Hanyu after the competition, during the exhibition, showing his natural expression after shedding his athlete’s armor, and captioned it "A Smile of Complete Victory."

 

Published in the February 10 edition of Sponichi, this photograph struck a chord with fans. Even more surprisingly, it was also recognized within the field of sports photojournalism.

 

Following his award-winning "I Won!!" gold medal victory shout from the PyeongChang Olympics, this photo was selected for the Sports Category Award (Overseas) at the Tokyo Press Photographers Association's awards ceremony.

 

The award was announced on November 27, 2020, as the world was engulfed in a wave of massive change brought on by the global spread of the novel coronavirus (COVID-19).

 

For athletes and spectators alike, sports where human contact is unavoidable have seen most competitions canceled. Figure skating was no exception, with the World Championships scheduled for March 2020 unable to be held. Furthermore, the Tokyo Olympics and Paralympics, originally planned for the summer of 2020, were postponed by a year, marking an unprecedented situation.

 

As the spread of the novel coronavirus cast a dark shadow over the world, Hanyu was named the inaugural “ Most Valuable Skater” at the International Skating Union’s newly established ISU Skating Awards in July 2020. Meanwhile, the 2020–21 season began under challenging circumstances.

 

Hanyu, who suffers from asthma, made the difficult decision not to compete in the Grand Prix Series, taking into account the risk of infection both to himself and to fans traveling to attend competitions.

 

The reality that Hanyu, the subject of his work, was no longer present at figure skating press venues weighed heavily on Kogaito. A reporter, for example, can write an article based on comments or interviews. But for a photographer, everything depends on being at the scene.

 

Kogaito described his feelings at the time as follows:

 

“A huge door suddenly closed in front of me, and everything was shut off.”

 

He continued:

 

“Before even talking about work, the question was what was happening to the world. An unprecedented virus was spreading across the globe, and people were dying. Unthinkable things were happening one after another; daily life changed dramatically, and it became impossible to anticipate anything. To be honest, I couldn’t see what the future held at all. Even as a photographer, I had nowhere to go for assignments, and I couldn’t even make plans a week in advance.”

 

When the award was announced in November of that year, Kogaito’s comments were published in the Sponichi newspaper.

 

“The Four Continents Figure Skating Championships, held in Seoul, South Korea in early February, was my only overseas reporting assignment in 2020. At the time, I could not have imagined the devastation that would later unfold around the world. Although the threat of COVID-19 was already creeping in, the Four Continents Championships were held as scheduled, and as always, Hanyu thrilled the crowd with his magnificent performance. Once again, the absolute champion raised his finger to the sky from the top of the podium. With this victory, Hanyu achieved the ‘Super Slam,’ completing all major international junior and senior titles. After the competition, he lay down on the ice with a broad smile on his face. I took the shot, thinking it was a smile worthy of such a great achievement. Looking back now, that moment feels truly special. Every time I see that smile, I can’t help but hope that sports will once again be safely held around the world.”

 

Until that wish was fulfilled, a long, dark shadow enveloped the world.

 

5.5 The astonishing shooting scene where even failure becomes a picture

 

Spoiler

The risk of COVID-19 infection spread through person-to-person contact. As the message to ‘avoid crowded places’ became deeply ingrained, gatherings of people came to be seen as something ‘bad.’

 

The impact of the pandemic cast a deep shadow over the field of journalism.

 

Media coverage of figure skating is highly diverse, encompassing newspaper, television, and radio reporters; journalists from specialized magazines; freelance writers; as well as television camera crews, newspaper photographers, and freelance photojournalists.

 

Each medium produces articles with carefully crafted perspectives, and photographers like Kōgaito bring their own distinctive style to their images, making diverse forms of reporting possible. At times, articles that leave readers scratching their heads are published, but even that is part of Japan’s strength, where ‘freedom of the press’ is guaranteed.

 

However, in the face of the unprecedented COVID-19 pandemic, reporting was severely restricted. Unable to travel to the scene, many interviews and reports shifted online.

 

In traditional reporting, meeting someone face-to-face allows journalists to pick up subtle facial expressions and delve into what the person truly thinks.

 

And photographers aim their lenses at even the slightest changes in a subject’s expression, as well as any moment that unfolds on site, seeking images that can only be captured by being physically present.

 

The methods the media had cultivated over many years lost their effectiveness with the shift to online reporting, where interviews followed formulaic question-and-answer sessions and photography was conducted via screen feeds rather than in person.

 

As a countermeasure, a system of “representative coverage” and “representative photography” was introduced.

 

If all reporters and photographers from every media outlet were to gather on site, it would result in overcrowding. The media, however, wanted to cover events in person rather than online. Through negotiations with event organizers and sports governing bodies, they arrived at a system in which a limited number of representatives would go on site to conduct coverage and take photographs, and those materials would then be shared among all media outlets.

 

The All-Japan Championships, held in December 2020 at the Big Hat in Nagano City, were a crucial competition for Hanyu, marking his first appearance of the season and the debut of his new programs.

 

Unable to travel to his training base in Toronto, Canada due to the pandemic, Hanyu continued training alone in his hometown of Sendai without a coach.

 

The short program was set to the rock number “Let Me Entertain You,” chosen to evoke "uplifting emotions" in a world weighed down by the COVID-19 pandemic. The free skate, meanwhile, was performed to a majestic piece from the 1969 NHK taiga drama “Ten to Chi to,” which depicted the life of the Sengoku-era warlord Uesugi Kenshin.

 

The performance, with its Japanese aesthetic woven from the sounds of the shamisen and koto, brings the Sengoku (Warring States) period to life on the ice. The fierce ‘Battle of Kawanakajima’ against Takeda Shingen also took place in Nagano, the same region as the All Japan Championships.

 

In the case of newspapers, the system for assigning representative photographers varies depending on the press photographers’ association overseeing each venue.

 

The Big Hat in Nagano City was under the jurisdiction of the Tokyo Press Photographers Association, and both general and sports newspapers sent two photographers each from their respective lead companies to shoot at the venue.

 

Representative photography was also introduced at the World Team Trophy held in April the following year at Maruzen Intec Arena Osaka. On that occasion, however, the Kansai Press Photographers Association selected, by lottery, which newspapers would be allowed to photograph at the venue. Fortunately, Sponichi was both a lead company in Nagano and won the lottery in Osaka. Since Hanyu competed in both events, Kogaito was chosen as the dispatched photographer.

 

“Since the PyeongChang Olympics ended, I’ve been determined to photograph every competition Hanyu competes in, and I even asked my company to make it possible. But if Sponichi hadn’t been selected for representative coverage, I wouldn’t have been able to go to the venues. I was truly fortunate.”

 

After reflecting on the fact that he never missed an opportunity to cover Hanyu, Kogaito added with a wry smile, “But…”

 

“Being a representative photographer was incredibly difficult.”

 

That is because representative photography functions by suppressing individuality. The photos that can be used by any media outlet are required to meet a certain level of quality while remaining neutral, with no strongly distinctive style.

 

In the case of the All Japan Figure Skating Championships, it was enough if it was immediately clear what kind of performance Hanyu had delivered. In fact, shots that Kogaito tended to favor, such as those without skates in frame or images not taken during the performance itself, were discouraged. ‘Standardized’ shots were considered ideal.

 

Furthermore, his signature “Kogaito Blue” was, of course, strictly off-limits.

 

For Kogaito, whose work had earned the appreciation of fans and readers by going beyond the conventions of sports reporting, the constraints of representative photography were like having his wings clipped as a photographer.

 

“I’ve never been able to take photos that appeal to everyone, and I never intended to.”

 

Even as a representative photographer, his own newspaper would still credit the photographs to Yoshiki Kogaito. He couldn't compromise on photographs that bore his name.

 

Kogaito steeled himself and stuck to his established style.

 

“I may not have fulfilled my role as a representative photographer. In that sense, I probably caused trouble for the member newspapers. But I just couldn’t bring myself to care whether some newspaper chose to publish my photos or not.”

 

On the first day the representative photographs were distributed, Sponichin’s photo department was inundated with complaints from other newspapers.

 

Nagakubo, who handled the complaints from the other media outlets, looked back on the incident.

 

“Even though it was figure skating, the photos Kogaito took and sent were all close-up upper-body shots. I’m sure the photo desks at general and local newspapers were surprised. They were receiving images that were completely outside the norms of sports reporting in newspapers. And on top of that, there was the so-called ‘Kogaito Blue’ (laughs). As for the blue tone, if you import the images into photo-editing software and reduce the midtone exposure, the colors become perfectly normal. As Kogaito experienced when he shot the NHK Trophy, the rink at Makomanai was a particularly tricky venue because the lighting was so dim. If you exposed it “correctly,” the images ended up with a yellowish cast. It was actually better, as Kogaito did, to slightly overexpose and deliberately push the blue tones, then correct it afterward. But then we get a flood of complaints saying, ‘It’s supposed to be representative photography!’ It seems people didn’t understand the nuances of the style, and one company persistently protested, saying, ‘This isn’t news photography!’ (laughs) I got fed up with the companies that kept calling so relentlessly. I figured I had no choice but to take the heat myself, so I stood my ground. I even told an editor at another paper, “Maybe your paper just doesn’t have any sense of style.” (Laughs.)

 

Kogaito had heard from his colleagues at Sponichi that Nagakubo and the desk editors were busy dealing with inquiries from other media outlets. However, Sponichi made an effort to protect him. Even the editors who had once requested more competition-focused photographs came to respect Kogaito’s style.

 

“My desk editor told me that various newspapers were asking, ‘Why is it so blue?’ But the company stood by me. They said, ‘This is the result of Kogaito’s work and achievements, so we’re not going to tell him to change it.’ They also said, ‘We’ll handle any complaints and inquiries and try to get people to understand. So just do as you please.’”

 

Kogaito was overjoyed, and his heart swelled with emotion. At the same time, he felt a slight sense of hesitation.

 

“On the second day, I started to think I might have gone a bit too far, so I dialed back the exposure slightly. But even looking back now, it’s still completely blue (laughs). At that moment, I realized I couldn’t sacrifice Hanyu’s sense of translucence for the sake of media convenience or the constraints of representative photography. So I took the photos I wanted to take.”

 

In fact, even at Sponichi, as Nagakubo noted, adjustments were sometimes made to tone down the “Kogaito Blue.” Nevertheless, Kogaito continued to set exposure based on his own instincts and to pursue photographs that captured Hanyu's translucent beauty.

 

“I’m not forcing a blue tone into my photos. I’m just adjusting the colors to what feels right to me. At times, I even felt a bit confrontational, wondering if even that kind of individuality wasn’t allowed. As a representative photographer, I do have a responsibility to distribute photos to other newspapers. But I didn’t think other companies had the right to dictate my style. I have my own photos of Hanyu that I’ve taken, and there are fans and readers who accept them. There are other representative photographers as well, so if they don’t like my photos, they don’t have to use them. I may have been a bit stubborn about it, but I couldn’t change my style.”

 

At the time, he heard criticism that his photos of Hanyu were “too white, lacking human warmth.”

 

Therefore, representative photos were sometimes edited at each outlet’s discretion by adding red tones to the skin color.

 

However, in Kogaito’s view, that was nothing more than a preconceived notion held by people who had never actually seen Hanyu in person, deciding, ‘His skin must be this color.’ 

 

Kogaito has always been particular about capturing Hanyu's translucent quality.

 

“I think people often say Hanyu has an ‘inhuman’ quality, almost as if he transcends humanity. But photographing Hanyu means capturing exactly that. It’s not just about skin tone; even in his performances, I want to capture that transcendent expression through the lens. That’s why what is generally considered ‘human’ color doesn’t really apply when photographing Hanyu. It was frustrating that this didn’t come across, and that I would be asked, ‘Why is he so white?’”

 

At this All-Japan Championships, Kogaito was able to capture a truly satisfying shot.

 

It was not taken during the competition performance itself, but on the official practice day.

 

Kogaito excitedly commented on the shot of Hanyu landing a jump.

 

“I simply thought it looked cool, including his expression. I also liked the moment of landing, when his blades carved into the ice, shattering it and sending fragments flying.”

 

Kogaito continued his comments on this photograph as follows:

 

“In fact, in this jump, the rotation came undone midway. It’s a mistake known as a ‘popped’ jump, and he landed on both feet. From a competitive standpoint, it’s a failure, isn’t it? But even though it’s a mistake, as a photograph it still ‘works.’ It’s a shot that meets my own standard.

In that moment, I was struck by Hanyu’s potential, thinking, ‘He can even turn failure into a picture.’”

 

 

5.6 Covering the World Championships despite the COVID-19 pandemic

 

Spoiler

Hanyu won the All-Japan Championships, securing his place on the team for the 2021 World Championships.

 

Although Hanyu had struggled with the decision to compete at the All-Japan Championships, he ultimately chose to participate because Olympic qualification spots for the Beijing Games were at stake in this World Championships.

 

While he had not explicitly stated his intention to compete, Japan could not afford to lose the maximum three men’s Olympic quota spots it had maintained for three consecutive Winter Olympics since the 2010 Vancouver Games. As the team’s ace, he felt a strong sense of pride and responsibility.

 

The venue for that World Championships was Stockholm, the capital of Sweden in Northern Europe.

 

This would be the last World Championships before the Beijing Olympics.

 

The competing athletes were placed in a so-called “bubble” environment that cut off contact with the outside world. With strict measures in place to mitigate infection risks, it remained unclear until the last minute whether the media would be able to cover the event on-site.

 

Since the PyeongChang Olympics, Sponichi had been sending Kogaito to cover every competition and public practice session in which Hanyu participated.

 

If Hanyu was going to compete this time as well… On the other hand, media organizations were divided in their decisions. Even on-site, coverage was expected to be primarily conducted online. The Japan Skating Federation arranged to connect Japan and Sweden online so that even media outlets not traveling to the venue could be accommodated as much as possible.

 

However, photography is different. Without being on-site, it is impossible to take the company’s own photographs. After repeated consultations with Nagakubo, Kogaito confirmed that Sponichi’s policy was to proceed with on-site reporting if press accreditation was granted.

 

At that time, Nagakubo had stepped down from his department head position. Kogaito remained in contact with him while the department also submitted a request to senior management seeking approval for his dispatch.

 

However, concerns about infection risk were being raised by executives. There was also conflicting information suggesting that entry might not even be permitted by the Swedish government in the first place.

 

Amid this uncertainty, Kogaito researched various possible travel routes.

 

“I heard that travel via Qatar might be possible, and there were even rumors that although Sweden had closed its borders, people who kept reindeer were somehow able to move freely. We even considered that it might be easier to enter via Finland, possibly by taking a ferry from Helsinki.”

 

It was also discovered that Sweden’s entry requirements explicitly stated “special reasons.” However, it was unclear whether journalism fell under this category. Kogaito noticed that “short-term language study” was listed as a valid reason, and researched local language schools in order to fit his stated purpose for travel.

 

If he were to contract COVID-19, his chances of covering the event would be completely eliminated. He did not want that to happen. He took thorough precautions against infection and waited for the company’s decision.

 

As the situation stalled, information came through Nagakubo that freelance photographers were preparing to go on-site. Furthermore, it was reported that among newspaper companies, the Yomiuri Shimbun was also moving toward dispatching a photographer.

 

What should the company do? In responding to the COVID-19 situation, decisions were to be made in accordance with the company’s own reporting guidelines.

 

Nagakubo called a senior executive he had known for years to sound things out.

 

However, senior management still seemed reluctant to approve on-site coverage. On March 10, Kogaito received a LINE message from Nagakubo on his smartphone that read:

 

“I'm afraid this is beyond my power…”

 

At this point, as the conflicting information was being sorted through, there was even a possibility that the competition itself could be canceled. The International Skating Union, the organizer, had no authority to permit or prohibit travel. If the event were to go ahead, the key issue was whether the Swedish government would grant entry permits to foreign media for on-site coverage.

 

Sponichi was considering sending only Kogaito, without dispatching a reporter, but there was little progress.

 

After much deliberation, Kogaito sent a LINE message to Nagakubo.

 

“If it comes down to it, I’d go even if it meant quitting my job.”

 

As someone who had long dreamed of becoming a sports newspaper photographer, he felt an immeasurable debt of gratitude to Sponichi. They had accommodated many of his personal requests, allowed him to gain experiences he could never have had on his own, and helped him grow within the field of figure skating photography to the point where he was praised as a “god photographer.” He also understood, intellectually, why the company was becoming cautious due to the COVID-19 situation.

 

Even so, Kogaito’s stubborn nature kept him from simply being compliant.

 

“I thought that if the World Championships were held, Hanyu would compete. Of course, I knew it would be a big decision for him. The 2020-21 Grand Prix series was cancelled, taking infection risks into full consideration. Hanyu has always acted cautiously, yet he was going to travel to a Nordic country to compete. I wanted to follow Hanyu, and even after the PyeongChang Olympics I continued to point my lens at figure skating. That resolve did not waver even during the pandemic. People might think, ‘What would you do if you quit your job?’ but I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. I just wanted to give my best to what was right in front of me. If the event were canceled, or if a lockdown meant I couldn’t enter the host country, that couldn’t be helped. But freelance photographers and reporters from other newspapers were going there on-site. If I couldn’t go due to company restrictions, I felt the only way to remove that barrier was to quit my job.”

 

His resolve to follow Hanyu was being put to the test.

 

Nagakubo understood his feelings. His reply read:

 

“I’ll call the executives tomorrow.”

 

Deliberations were also progressing within Sponichi. Fortunately, around the time Kogaito and Nagakubo were exchanging messages, the company had already decided to approve his dispatch.

 

Kogaito received a call from his department head.

 

“You’ve been given the go-ahead. We can’t break the continuity we’ve built up.”

 

His heart swelled with joy. When he informed Nagakubo, he was genuinely happy as well.

 

For Kogaito, Sponichi was an organization that paid his salary and had helped develop him as a photographer, yet at the same time, he sometimes saw it as an obstacle in his pursuit of photographing Hanyu.

 

Standard expectations in sports reporting from desk editors, as well as requests for images that matched the tone of the written copy… The newspaper pages are produced collectively by everyone involved in the editorial process, from the editor-in-chief down. As such, instructions from the desk editors represent the consensus of the organization.

 

He felt that those who truly understood his photographs were Hanyu’s fans, rather than the company itself.

 

However, gradually, people within the organization began to recognize his work. Why were Kogaito’s photographs of Hanyu so highly regarded by fans? The desk editors, too, were once photographers who had worked in the field.

 

Through Kogaito’s uncompromising stance and the photographs that expressed his intent, it was immediately clear how seriously he was engaging with "Yuzuru Hanyu."

 

“Being allowed to go to the World Championships made me feel that my feelings had reached the company. Knowing that the executives understood made me truly happy.”

 

After that, he made no mistake in preparing for departure. He arranged a route via Turkey, researched travel logistics and insurance in case he contracted COVID-19 abroad, and gathered all relevant information, which he shared with the executives through the photography department.

 

However, on the day of departure at Haneda Airport, another issue arose. At the check-in counter, he was asked to confirm whether he had been granted entry permission to Sweden.

 

Kogaito’s plan was to travel first and proceed with coverage if he was able to enter the country. However, the airline refused, insisting that without confirmation of entry eligibility, he could not be allowed to board the flight. As a result, verification of entry into Sweden was required. Departure time was fast approaching.

 

“Is it ready yet?”

“Not yet, still no reply.”

 

As the exchange stalled, even Kogaito’s expression showed clear signs of anxiety.

 

One hour before departure, he finally received clearance to board and headed for the venue. Entry procedures went smoothly, and after completing a one-week self-quarantine, he was finally able to begin on-site coverage of the competition.

 

Only seven photographers were present at the event, including freelancers, magazine staff, and those dispatched by the Yomiuri Shimbun.

 

During the competition period, they underwent daily PCR testing and strictly managed their health under the condition that a positive result would mean immediate disqualification from coverage.

 

None of the seven photographers tested positive, and they were able to carry out their work.

 

“For the photographers who arrived at the venue with high motivation, it was fortunate that, although the press area was restricted due to the COVID-19 pandemic, there were more shooting positions available compared to venues in Japan.”

 

“There are also angles you can hardly get at venues in Japan.”

 

Kogaito had a particular shot he wanted to capture at this competition.

 

It was a shot of Hanyu’s free skate, “Heaven and Earth,” taken from the judges’ stand side.

 

“Hanyu’s ‘Heaven and Earth’ was a program that symbolized traditional Japanese aesthetics. At that point, it had not yet been officially announced, and there was no certainty, but I had a feeling he would likely perform this program at the Beijing Olympics as well. He had not even clearly stated that he was aiming for Beijing yet, but I had that intuition.”

 

What he captured was a photograph that seemed to embody Hanyu’s “resolve,” leaving a strong impression. With his arms crossed, his gaze felt more intense than anyone else’s.

 

“I was overwhelmed by the intensity of Hanyu’s gaze. From that strong gaze, I sensed his resolve. That resolve was reflected in his decision to travel to Stockholm during the pandemic to help secure Japan’s Olympic qualification. I also felt his determination to attempt the quadruple axel in this program. His resolute expression conveyed his feelings at the venue, something that only a photograph could capture. This was an image that could only be taken by being there.”

 

In response to Kogaito’s work, Sponichi used this image as the main front-page photo on the day of the World Championships free skate, where Hanyu finished third.

 

By this time, the “Kogaito style” was fully in full force. The skates, long valued as a way to immediately identify the sport, were not visible in the frame. Nor was there any sense of Hanyu in motion during his performance.

 

Even so, this photograph still captured fans’ hearts. What kind of mindset did Kogaito have when photographing Hanyu and figure skating, allowing him to go this far?

 

Kogaito's answer was clear:

 

“I photograph the expression of figure skating.”

 

Kogaito returned safely from Sweden and felt a sense of relief.

“The most important thing was being able to continue photographing Hanyu. I was able to capture his challenges and journey as a continuous line in my photographs. I think there is a big difference between going to the World Championships and maintaining that continuity, and not going and having it broken. He took risks, made up his mind, and faced it head-on. Hanyu is that kind of skater, and he approached the World Championships with even greater resolve than we did. While I am grateful for the understanding of those around me and of the company, photographing that World Championships holds great significance for me. And it only strengthened my desire to photograph Hanyu even more.”

 

After returning to Japan, Hanyu competed in the World Team Trophy.

 

He said, “I want to leave something here, something that might become someone’s hope, something that moves someone’s heart, or becomes a source of light for someone.”

 

That sentiment from Hanyu was brought into reality during the official practice session ahead of the exhibition.

 

On April 17, 2021, Hanyu showed an intense, almost ferocious expression. What he was attempting was the quadruple axel.

The competition had already ended, and it would normally have been a chance to capture the relaxed, off-guard moments of the athletes. Kogaito had been preparing with that expectation as well.

 

However, when Hanyu appeared on the ice, he carried an intensity more typical of competition. During the practice session that began at 1:25 p.m., he repeatedly checked his approach path, performed single and double axels, and then gradually shifted into gear for the quadruple axel attempt.

 

“I panicked. At first, I had planned to shoot his entry into the rink. But something felt different. I quickly moved to a position where I could capture the quadruple Axel.”

 

As Kogaito raised his lens, he felt a chill of excitement run through him.

 

“I was positioned where I could shoot Hanyu’s Axel from directly beside him.”

 

It was the first time he had attempted the quadruple axel in public since the official practice session at the Grand Prix Final in Turin in December 2019.

 

“It was a torrent of Axel attempts, one after another. None of us had ever seen a skater land a quadruple Axel, so we didn’t know what a successful one would look like. We were excited, watching through the lens, hoping he would land it at some point.”

 

He fell six times, and there were also several jumps with under-rotations.

 

What surprised him most was the impact of the falls. Even with great height and rapid rotation on a tight axis, he could not make the landing in time. Each time, Hanyu was slammed hard into the ice.

 

Even in scenes that made one want to look away, Kogaito kept his lens fixed on Hanyu. Then a thought suddenly came to him: Hanyu alone on the ice in the middle of the night, attempting the quadruple Axel.

 

“The quadruple Axel is an incredibly difficult jump. I was stunned to think that Hanyu had been practicing like this alone all this time. His solitude and single-minded dedication deeply moved me. It felt as if I were watching him train alone in the middle of the night. I kept pressing the shutter, prepared for the possibility that a moment of success might come at any time.”

 

Why did Hanyu push himself so relentlessly during exhibition practice? Kogaito offered this hypothesis:

 

“Perhaps he felt that his spirit of challenge could serve as a message to a world weighed down by the pandemic. Attempting the quadruple Axel is extremely difficult and painful. It seems he hoped people would take something away from such efforts.”

 

Despite repeated falls, Hanyu got back up and continued to attempt the quadruple Axel. His expressions and gestures during those attempts were captured in Kogaito’s photographs.

 

The following day’s newspaper featured a cursive headline, ‘Road to QUAD AXEL,’ along with a series of photos of Hanyu’s quadruple axel attempts: a shot of him after a fall, showing his fighting spirit as he appeared to be shouting, and another of him raising his right hand as if trying to grasp something.

 

The Olympic pre-season came to an end, and the Beijing Olympic season was about to begin.

 

At this point, Hanyu had not yet revealed his intention to compete at the Beijing Olympics, and was focused entirely on increasing his chances of successfully landing the quadruple Axel.

 

 

 

 

*Alternative CN translation

https://weibo.com/3406979710/5112353350486583
https://weibo.com/6473801248/P5Ch5dQFo

https://weibo.com/3406979710/5112364982865505

https://weibo.com/3406979710/5112372761462522

[yuzurujenn]

*Machine translation. Inaccuracies may exist*

 

 

Chapter 6: Compassion

 

6.1 Hanyu's delicate and fleeting fighting spirit, dyed in blue

 

Spoiler

The years had passed since his glorious back-to-back Olympic victories, and another Olympic season had arrived.

 

After a dynamic Sochi Olympic season, during which he emerged as a rising star with exceptional style, beautiful jumps, and rich expressiveness, and a Pyeongchang Olympic season, in which he reigned as the undisputed champion, overcoming a major injury to reach the pinnacle of the sport, he entered his third Olympic season amid the unprecedented circumstances of the COVID-19 pandemic, determined to successfully land the quadruple Axel, a feat never before achieved.

 

For Kogaito, too, time had seemed both long and short.

 

Inspired by the champion’s performance at the Pyeongchang Olympics, he pursued what lay beyond, unwilling to compromise his vision and determined to remain on site to capture each moment, no matter the circumstances.

 

If Hanyu is a solitary figure, then Kogaito, as a newspaper photographer covering sports, has also always been a solitary figure.

 

Even so, it was only because Hanyu existed as a subject that he was able to remain true to his convictions and hold firmly to his sense of self without compromise.

 

At the start of the Olympic season, Hanyu had not yet declared his intent to compete at the Beijing Olympics. His only focus was the successful execution of the quadruple Axel.

 

Just then, a major setback occurred.

On November 4, 2021, the Japan Skating Federation announced that Hanyu would withdraw from the NHK Trophy, his first scheduled event of the Grand Prix series, due to a right ankle ligament injury. Recovery did not proceed as hoped, and on November 17 it was also decided that he would miss the Rostelecom Cup in Russia.

 

For Hanyu, his right ankle was an area that had suffered repeated injuries in the past. This time, the incident struck during free skate practice.

 

As Hanyu himself mentioned in his comments after withdrawing from the NHK Trophy, “just one fall” disrupted many of his plans.

 

He was unable to compete in both Grand Prix series events, and thus missed the Grand Prix Final.

 

Hanyu, who had not entered any other competitions, made his first public appearance at the All-Japan Figure Skating Championships in December 2021.

 

The fact that the All-Japan Championships, which also served as the final selection event for the Beijing Olympics, was his first competition of the season was truly unprecedented.

 

Looking back, the period since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic was a continuous stretch of hardship. He trained alone and experienced loneliness. During this time, he was overwhelmed by periods of poor form, and at one point, he was unable to land his signature weapon, the triple Axel.

 

Even so, Hanyu, who had grown stronger and more resilient with every setback he overcame, once again returned to the rink like a phoenix.

 

Here, armed with the ultimate, most difficult element—

 

It was the quadruple Axel, which he had chased for four years since the Pyeongchang Olympics, seeking even the faintest thread that might open a breakthrough.

 

When asked in a post-practice interview at the All Japan Championships whether he would include the quadruple Axel, Hanyu stated clearly:

 

“Yes. I want to put it in the first half of my free skate.”

 

At the All-Japan Championships, Kogaito followed Hanyu’s every move as he attempted his ultra-difficult element. In official practice, the moment Hanyu took off for the quadruple Axel, it felt to Kogaito as if time had stopped. The airtime was long and exceptionally high.

 

“Our perception is subjective, so the same one second can feel either long or like a fleeting moment.”

 

The camera shutter fired continuously, capturing both the triple Axel and the quadruple Axel in over a dozen frames.

 

No one had ever landed a quadruple Axel. It was known to be an extremely difficult jump.

However, Kogaito recalls, “I felt the height. I began to feel that he might actually land it.”

 

Having also witnessed the practice for the exhibition gala at the 2021 World Team Trophy in April, he was able to perceive the changes in Hanyu’s evolution.

Kogaito’s intuition was correct.

 

On December 26, in the men’s free skate, Hanyu opened with a jump that was high, beautiful, and carried great distance. It was a moment when the entire arena held its breath.

 

There was no fall.

 

He held on with everything he had.

 

However, cruelly, the rotation came up just short, and he landed on both feet. It was judged under-rotated and downgraded to a a triple Axel. Even so, he left a lasting impression of the challenge he had undertaken.

 

Of course, Kogaito’s lens captured that moment as well.

 

Unexpectedly, it was the short program at the All Japan Championships that remained most vivid in Kogaito’s memory.

 

Hanyu's new short program for the Olympic season features a piano arrangement of “Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso,” one of the most famous works by 19th-century French composer Camille Saint-Saëns.

 

Hanyu’s meticulously crafted program embodies his wish: “I have a strong desire to connect with the music. I want people to see everything, not just the jumps.”

 

There is a photograph that fully embodies the "blue world" created by Kogaito as he confronted the masterpiece program that both Hanyu and his fans abbreviate as "Roncap."

 

Taken from behind, the photo captures Hanyu during the six-minute warm-up just before his short program.

 

The All-Japan Championships, his first competition of the season and also the final selection event for the Beijing Olympics, carried immense pressure. The question was, what kind of fighting spirit would he display under such pressure?

 

However, the expression Hanyu displayed was one of fragility, in stark contrast to his fighting spirit. “For someone about to compete, he looked so delicate and fleeting.”

 

By capturing the ice in blue tones, Hanyu’s ethereal quality was further highlighted.

 

And the second photograph is a carefully crafted shot of Hanyu just before he heads off for the short program.

 

As Hanyu prepares for competition, he listens to music through earphones right up until the last minute, sharpening his focus for the main event. The photograph, taken from directly beside him, makes the entire world appear “blue.”

 

“While the previous photos, including those from the six-minute practice sessions, were all referred to as ‘Kogaito Blue,’ this one is a new ‘Kogaito Blue.’ It feels strange to call it ‘Kogaito Blue’ myself (laughs). I actually used the blue elements already present in the scene to make the photograph blue. It’s become a completely ‘blue’ world. And Hanyu’s costumes also feature a lot of blue, don’t they? It’s like creating a picture in a single tone of blue.”

 

So, what exactly is the essence of “Kogaito Blue”? Kogaito spoke carefully, choosing his words.

 

“You could say Hanyu is the one who made my photos blue. As I created images that suited him, the photographs gradually took on a blue tone. It’s not as if I always shoot everything in blue. There are times when I want to shoot in red as well. But as I continued to engage with Hanyu, the color that emerged was blue. ‘Kogaito Blue’ is precisely the tone that best fits images of Hanyu. I’ve also thought about why blue suits him. The atmosphere in his stillness and performances—delicate, ephemeral, almost as if he might fade away, yet undeniably present, a powerful mass of energy. When I tried to capture that in a photograph, blue was the color that fit best.”

 

And then he made an interesting remark about the fighting spirit that envelops Hanyu.

 

“Hanyu always shows a kind of boiling, intensely burning fighting spirit. But at the same time, I don’t feel that his fighting spirit is something ‘bright’ or outwardly expressive. It is not a fiery red, but rather something more restrained, a burning intensity that feels almost still rather than fully unleashed. This is just my impression from what I have seen through the lens. In that sense, I think blue, rather than red, is the color that best represents Hanyu’s fighting spirit. A blue flame may appear calm and still, yet it burns hotter than a red flame. Quiet, yet intense. I think that's exactly what Hanyu's fighting spirit is.”

 

According to Kogaito, the two photographs conveyed a Hanyu who was “preparing for battle.” These were not images that imposed preconceived notions of a sharp gaze, flashy movements, or overflowing intensity.

 

In a way true to Hanyu, it expressed a fighting spirit that was delicate and fleeting, quiet and blue, yet fiercely and intensely burning. By that point, no one expected Kogaito’s photographs of Hanyu to conform to any “standard” formula.

 

“You can’t even see the skates.”

“You can’t tell at a glance that it’s figure skating.”

 

Criticisms such as these, based solely on deviation from conventional “standards,” proved to be ultimately meaningless. Over many years of continuing to photograph Hanyu, Kogaito was able to make this clear not only to fans, but also to readers, his company, and fellow photographers.

 

“Hanyu is a skater who expresses himself on the ice, but in my view, ice is not essential when photographing him. That’s because the figure preparing to compete before even stepping onto the ice is also Hanyu. In newspaper work, there are limits to the photographs that can be used. That is why a photographer’s sensibility on site is constantly put to the test, and of course, consensus with the company is also necessary. It was the newspapers that held a rigid belief that ‘conventional’ images were good photographs. Hanyu’s fans made us realize that there are many different sides to him. Fans already knew that Hanyu could not be contained within existing categories such as jumping, smiling after a performance, or striking a victory pose. So when I stepped slightly outside those boundaries, they accepted my photographs. For me, photography is a means of communication with fans. How do they see the work I’ve taken? Will they accept it? That is everything to me, and that is how I have approached photography. They have truly embraced a wide variety of my photographs. Even images that would previously have been considered unacceptable in the world of news reporting were tolerated, as long as they conveyed Hanyu’s authentic appeal. As my trust in how Hanyu’s fans viewed my photography grew, I was able to take bolder approaches. I could press the shutter with confidence, almost as if receiving encouragement. The company also began to notice that my photographs were, in a sense, becoming a standard in figure skating. That realization allowed me to push further beyond the boundaries and take on more challenges. Over the four years since the Pyeongchang Olympics, I believe we gradually caught up to the real image of Yuzuru Hanyu that his fans had already envisioned.”

 

Hanyu claimed victory at the All-Japan Championships with a dominant performance, and afterward strengthened his resolve to compete at the Beijing Olympics.

 

“If I’m going to compete at the Beijing Olympics, I want to give my all so I can seize victory, with the quadruple Axel as my weapon.”

 

Kogaito listened to these words with a racing heart, already thinking ahead to two months later.

 

 

6.2 The Athletes’ Village Mixed Zone He Kept Secretly Waiting At

 

Spoiler

February in Beijing, the capital of China, was bitterly cold.

 

Following the 2008 Summer Games, the 2022 Beijing Olympics marked the first time in history that the same city hosted both the Summer and Winter Games. Among the athletes drawing attention not only in Japan but around the world was Yuzuru Hanyu, who was aiming for his third consecutive gold medal in men's figure skating.

 

On February 6, Hanyu arrived in Beijing. As a precaution against infection, he was escorted by local staff in protective suits. This was confirmed in an announcement from the Japan Olympic Committee (JOC), which stated, “We are pleased to announce that he has safely arrived in Beijing today.”

 

At that time, Kogaito had been waiting for news of when Hanyu would arrive in Beijing.

 

During the Olympic Games, an outdoor mixed zone for media coverage was set up near the athletes’ village, where competitors and officials stayed. Photography was permitted in this area. A few hundred meters from that spot was the route that athletes passed through after arrival.

 

Even so, he was fully aware that the chances of photographing Hanyu were extremely slim.

 

But if there was even the slightest chance, he could not afford to miss that moment. During the four or five days leading up to the competition, Kogaito came to this spot every day. Sometimes it even snowed. In subzero temperatures, he bundled up in heavy clothing and simply stood there, waiting. At times, photographers and reporters from other newspapers were present, but when they were not, he stood alone, patiently waiting for that moment through a 600mm telephoto lens.

 

“You’re always here. What are you doing?”

 

A female staff member once asked him in curiosity.

 

“I’m waiting for Yuzuru Hanyu.”

 

When he answered, she nodded as if she understood.

 

“So you’re betting on the chance to photograph a superstar. I hope you get your shot.”

 

She smiled, as if cheering him on.

 

For photographers, when the subject does not appear, it is called a “blank shot.” Day after day, those blank shots continued.

 

“He’s not coming again today, is he?”

 

Even his conversations with the female staff member began to dwindle.

 

Still, waiting for even the slightest possibility was part of the job. He checked flight arrivals into Beijing and considered travel times, estimating that Hanyu might pass through sometime between late afternoon and around 7 p.m. Thinking that way strangely made the wait feel less painful.

 

Other newspapers’ photographers were already covering events across various Olympic venues, including other sports. In contrast, Kogaito was the only photographer sent to the Beijing Olympics by Sponichi. While Kogaito was waiting for Hanyu, not a single photo had been sent back to Sponichi from Beijing.

 

From the outside, it might have looked as if he wasn’t working. Even so, if Hanyu were to appear, he wanted to capture the expression on his face in that moment.

 

Although Kogaito’s approach to photographing Hanyu sometimes went against conventional sports reporting, deep inside him still flowed the blood of a photojournalist. Waiting for hours in the cold where everyone assumed “He won’t come anyway,” he bet on even the slightest possibility, prepared for a “blank shot.”

 

This was a commitment to “scoops,” cultivated since his days covering the Hanshin Tigers at Sponichi.

 

Reports of his arrival were confirmed, but Hanyu never appeared in the athletes’ village mixed zone. Even so, Kogaito’s heart felt clear and at ease.

 

“I waited for Hanyu more than anyone else. I think it was a time for me to reaffirm my own convictions as the Olympics approached. It made my desire to photograph him stronger than ever. And precisely because of that, my sense that the Beijing Olympics were finally beginning grew even stronger.”

 

And so, the curtain finally rises.

 

The absolute champion, Hanyu, a two-time Olympic champion, is about to compete in his third Olympic Games.

 

What was Kogaito feeling as he prepared to face Hanyu at the Beijing Olympics?

 

“Of course, the ideal outcome would be for Hanyu to land the quadruple Axel and win a third consecutive Olympic gold medal. I didn’t know what kind of scene would unfold, but I hoped to capture a photograph that could symbolize that moment. Strangely, my feelings were different from PyeongChang. In PyeongChang, I think Hanyu himself went into the competition focused on winning the gold medal. I found myself wondering what it would be like this time.”

 

He then added, "This is just my opinion, of course," before continuing.

 

“In the short program at the All-Japan Championships, Hanyu delivered a perfect performance, didn’t he? I couldn’t fully grasp what impact that result would have on him. If he could skate like that again in the short program, the gold medal would be much closer. He must have felt a strong sense of confidence and readiness. Even so, in the free skate, would he include the quadruple Axel as the culmination of these four years, or would he refrain from attempting it and focus solely on winning? Even after following him for so many years, I still couldn’t fully grasp the thoughts of a champion like him.”

 

It wasn’t only Kogaito. Even when it came to the question of whether Hanyu would aim for a third Olympics, many beat reporters could not be certain until he himself made it clear at the All-Japan Championships.

 

Perhaps Hanyu no longer viewed figure skating within the framework of a "competition." His challenge to land the quadruple Axel, which he described as his greatest motivation, may have been a “solitary battle” detached from the world of winning and losing.

 

Perhaps he did not necessarily view the Olympics, held once every four years, as a milestone event. What kind of competition would the Beijing Olympics be for Hanyu? What kind of outcome would it have? It was a cmpetition where no one could predict the outcome.

 

For that reason as well, Kogaito was unable to decide on a shooting position.

 

Even when he went to the main competition rink for official practice, numerous doubts arose. Should he try to find a position focused on the quadruple Axel in the free skate, or should he, as he had at the PyeongChang Olympics, aim his lens at a scene that would symbolize a gold medal?

 

While he stood at rinkside, lost in uncertainty, a figure standing in the back area of the rink came into Kogaito’s field of vision.

 

6.3 "Determination" and "solitude" conveyed through his back

 

Spoiler

At figure skating venues, skaters emerge from the backstage area at the far end of the rink before their performances. Hanyu also appears alone. In contrast to the brilliantly lit rink under the spotlight, that space is plain and dimly lit.

 

However, imagining Hanyu standing there alone, preparing for his performance, Kogaito said, “I wanted to capture Hanyu as he steps out onto the rink.”

 

Stepping out onto the rink—.

 

In other words, it is the moment just before the start of battle.

Kogaito suddenly recalls a scene from four years earlier.

 

Beside the absolute champion stood Brian Orser, his coach in Toronto. The jump coach Ghislain Briand was there as well, and Tracy Wilson, who coached skating skills, watched over him.

 

The strongest support team guided the strongest champion to the top. That is why he was able to overcome injury as well.

 

However, the road to the Beijing Olympics was different. The COVID-19 pandemic changed the environment. Travel to his training base in Toronto was restricted, and Hanyu spent much of the time leading up to the Beijing Olympics in Japan. The days he spent skating alone on late-night ice were a battle with solitude.

 

The sight of Hanyu's back as he emerged from the backstage area exuded an atmosphere that perfectly symbolized the past four years.

 

“From my perspective, Hanyu’s Beijing Olympics felt like him going into battle alone. Along with his determination and resolve to face that challenge, I also felt that loneliness and solitude were also essential in expressing his journey up to that point. It was like a sacred space that no one could enter or should enter, a place that Hanyu confronted alone. Not only was there no coach, but there was also the solitude of a seeker attempting the quadruple Axel. You can’t even see his face in this photo, can you? Yet I felt it conveyed all of Hanyu’s determination, resolve, and solitude. Moreover, another miracle happened at that moment. When I first pointed my lens at him, Hanyu was standing with his back to me. However, he then slightly turned his head, as if looking back over his shoulder. Of course, he didn’t know I was photographing him. But the shot where his face was slightly visible suited the atmosphere I wanted to convey better than a completely back-facing view. Therefore, I would deliberately use the phrase that Hanyu turned his face slightly toward the side.”

 

In terms of photo positions, the spot opposite the judges’ seats in the arena was the least popular, since skaters direct their main poses toward the judges during their performances. While it is a location photographers would normally avoid when trying to capture the performance, Kogaito recalls, “I prioritized the scenes I wanted to capture.”

 

What kind of photo should be used in that day’s newspaper? More than that, he wanted to capture Hanyu’s figure, silently speaking through his back.

 

The men’s short program on February 8 got off to a dramatic start.

 

At the opening of “Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso,” the program in which he delivered a breathtaking performance at last year's All-Japan Championships, he was struck by an unexpected mishap.

 

On the rink adorned with “BEIJING 2022” and the Olympic rings, Hanyu began his performance, but he popped his planned opening quadruple Salchow.

 

There was a clear reason why the jump that Hanyu later reflected on as, "I thought I had taken off with perfect form and perfect timing," did not go as the champion had expected.

 

Just before takeoff, the blade of his skate caught in a small hole in the ice.

 

After finishing his performance, Hanyu went back to the spot where the Salchow had gone wrong to confirm the unexpected situation with his own eyes. Even so, he did not fall apart afterward.

 

Despite the unexpected setback, he held on to score 95.15 points. Eighth in the short program. Even on the brink of despair, the champion still looked forward.

 

“I'm very grateful to receive a score of 95. It meant I was able to raise the quality of everything else in my performance, which made me want to praise myself a little. My condition is still in good shape heading into the free skate. I feel very confident about my performance. The rest is up to fate, I guess. I still have time, so I want to make the most of it and complete the free skate properly.”

 

From the perspective of sports reporting, the conventional choice would be to publish a photo of Hanyu looking dejected.

 

However, Sponichi presented a different image.

 

The photograph in the newspaper showed Hanyu with his arms outstretched during his performance. The headline read: “With the 4A, the legendary Hanyu enters a world where ‘only God knows,’” quoting his own words.

 

This shot, too, was a powerful image of Hanyu with his wings spread, captured in “Kogaito Blue” hue. In Kogaito's imagination, Hanyu was spreading his wings toward the free skate, with the mountains of China, the host country, in the background.

 

To capture this shot, a high-angle position was required. Anticipating this, Kogaito chose not the rinkside or the judges’ stand, but instead aimed from the least popular position in the venue.

 

A photo capturing the champion’s back also appeared in the newspaper, though not prominently.

 

All that remained was the free skate. Kogaito's camera stayed unwaveringly focused on Hanyu as he approached the culmination of all his efforts.

 

6.4 A single shot capturing the moment immediately after the free skate

 

Spoiler

The moment of fate was drawing ever closer.

 

Hanyu, aiming to fight back from 8th place in the short program, performed ‘Heaven and Earth,’ a program rooted in Japanese aesthetics, pouring his heart and soul into it. It was a program befitting Japan’s absolute champion.

 

And right at the beginning of the program was the quadruple Axel, a monumental jump he had challenged time and again, only to be repeatedly denied, yet continued to fight for until he finally caught a glimpse of hope at the All-Japan Championships at the end of the year.

 

The words of his childhood coach, Soichiro Tsuzuki, echoed in his mind: “The Axel is the king of jumps.”

 

For four years, Hanyu looked beyond his ‘world’s finest triple Axel,’ with its high, sweeping, beautiful arc, toward what he envisioned as ‘the true king’s jump,’ never wavering in his pursuit of the quadruple Axel on ice, an unprecedented four-and-a-half-revolution jump that no one had ever achieved.

 

Anticipating the success of his "greatest motivation," which he had found beyond his back-to-back Olympic titles, the free skate that would become the culmination of those four years for Hanyu was also becoming a turning point for Kogaito, who had followed his journey closely.

 

Just as Hanyu pursued a one-of-a-kind performance, Kogaito too had avoided blending into others, trying to approach Hanyu’s essence through his own distinctive camera work.

 

Among sports photojournalists, Kogaito had defied convention and remained a solitary figure, earning recognition through nothing but his own skill.

 

Meeting Yuzuru Hanyu, becoming captivated by him, and devoting himself to capturing his image through the lens opened up new horizons for Kogaito. Bathed in Hanyu’s light, Kogaito grew stronger and more resilient, and at these Olympics he was now in a position where he was entrusted with the freedom to photograph as he wished.

 

His company understood the path he had carved out for himself. Precisely for that reason, he also felt an even greater sense of responsibility.

 

The success or failure of the long-awaited quadruple Axel was finally about to be decided.

 

How to capture a page of Hanyu's legend was a defining moment worthy of every ounce of skill possessed by every photographer who had followed him, regardless of whether they worked for newspapers, magazines, or as freelancers.

 

At the Beijing Olympics, the photo positions at rinkside were assigned by lottery, and those who did not get a spot had to shoot from the free seating in the stands. The free seating was allocated on a first-come, first-served basis.

 

Many Japanese media outlets, anticipating the possibility of losing the lottery, lined up from late at night in order to secure the best possible positions in the stands.

 

“I thought that entering the lottery while also securing a backup spot in the stands was, in a way, a bit unfair. So I resolved that if I didn’t win the lottery for the position I really wanted, I would just accept it and shoot from whatever free seating was available.”

 

Kogaito entered the lottery aiming for a position around what would be 8 o’clock if the judges’ seats were considered 12 o’clock.

 

Four years earlier, victory had seemed certain. So he had focused his lens on Hanyu’s triumphant roar as he claimed gold.

 

This time, his feelings were different.

 

Looking back on Hanyu’s four years, he had remained committed to his challenge with the quadruple Axel, a jump no one had ever accomplished, while also facing numerous hardships due to the COVID-19 pandemic and injuries.

 

What kind of expression would Hanyu have as he left the rink after the free skate in Beijing?

 

Kogaito wanted to capture that moment.

 

Whether the quadruple Axel was landed or not, whether a miraculous comeback to gold remained possible or not, he wanted to convey to readers the outcome of Yuzuru Hanyu’s third Olympics through his portrait.

 

Unfortunately, his preferred photo position wasn't chosen in the lottery.

 

Kogaito was assigned a seat in the stands at the 9 o’clock position.

 

But there was no disappointment. Making excuses based on position would be pointless. Thinking of the hardships in Hanyu’s own journey, he resolved to focus solely on capturing the best possible shot within the conditions he had been given.

 

The position Kogaito secured allowed him to photograph the quadruple Axel from a direct side angle. What kind of shot would the four-and-a-half-revolution jump produce from here?

 

“Of course, from a side angle I would capture a sequence of shots. But what I really wanted was Hanyu’s face after landing the quad Axel.”

 

It was certainly an intriguing perspective.

 

If he became the first person in history to land a quadruple Axel on the ice, what expression would cross his face? Would he himself look stunned by what he had just accomplished? Would he be filled with a confidence that seemed to say, ‘How about that?’ Would he wear a matter-of-fact expression? Or would he accept the reward for staking his entire skating career on this moment with a look tinged with a certain fragility?

 

As Kogaito’s heart raced, Hanyu’s free skate finally began.

 

Immediately, the highlight arrived.

 

The opening quadruple Axel.

 

Kogaito recalls:

 

“I’m there as a press photographer, allowed to cover the event. I’m there to do my job, so strictly speaking, I shouldn’t let personal feelings get involved. But in my case, my emotions can sometimes transfer into the photographs. There are readers and Hanyu’s fans who are waiting for my images. So I decided to pour everything I had into it. Because I wanted to take the best possible photograph in that moment, I was pointing my lens as if I were jumping the quadruple Axel together with him.”

 

Hanyu took off and entered a world lasting only fractions of a second. Defying the Earth’s gravity, he soared high into the air and began to rotate around a narrow axis.

 

“This is the rotation speed of a quadruple Axel…”

 

As Hanyu himself later reflected, he was in an almost unreal dimension. For Kogaito as well, it was a single instant that felt endlessly long.

 

The rotation was sufficient. Unlike at the All-Japan Championships, he entered the landing position on one foot, not both.

 

Did he make it?

 

However, in the next instant, his injured right foot could not hold, and he collapsed onto the ice.

 

Hanyu’s right ankle was already screaming in pain. He had sprained it during official practice the day before, when he fell while attempting a quadruple Axel.

 

Despite requiring ten days of complete rest, he received a painkiller injection and, without revealing his condition, took to the ice for the free skate.

 

The ultra-difficult jump, carrying all the determination and pride of a champion, was not a perfect success. Yet it undeniably etched the quadruple Axel into the ice, becoming the first jump in history to be recognized by the ISU as an official quadruple Axel element.

 

The ultra-difficult jump, carrying all the determination and pride of a champion, was not a perfect success, but it undeniably etched the quadruple Axel into the ice. It became a historic jump, the first quadruple Axel to be officially recognized by the ISU as a technical element in the competition protocol.

 

But the performance was far from over. Hanyu’s expression said it all. As soon as he got back to his feet, his determination to skate “Heaven and Earth” through to the very end shone through the lens. The gold medal was probably already out of reach. But that no longer mattered.

 

Kogaito kept pressing the shutter with single-minded focus. His emotions continued to swell.

 

“Hanyu was determined to complete the program to the very end. I felt I couldn’t afford to let my concentration drop just because of the quadruple Axel. I told myself I had to properly capture everything that followed as well. In fact, I felt it was even more important to photograph Hanyu’s performance properly after that.”

 

After completing his free skate, having poured his heart and soul into it, Hanyu stood in long silence on the ice, gazing up at the sky.

 

In a later interview, he revealed: “That pose contained the meaning of the ‘heaven’ in ‘Heaven and Earth,’ and also an image of sending my soul up to the heavens with a ‘bang.’ The ending pose of ‘From Russia with Love,’ which I skated when I was nine, is actually the same pose. I was overlapping myself from back then… a lot of emotions were swirling within me. I think the story of my program only became complete when I finished that pose and left the rink.”

 

After completing this ritual, Hanyu returned to the boards, gently placed his hand on the ice, and then brought both hands together in front of his face, clasping them with the ice still clinging to them.

 

As he kept pressing the shutter, Kogaito felt a slight sense of regret cross his mind.

 

“If I had won the lottery for the photo position and been in the spot I wanted, I could have taken a photo where Hanyu’s face was more clearly visible. I might even have been able to capture his clasped hands, and perhaps even the ice particles still on them. I can’t help thinking I could have photographed this scene better.”

 

This wasn’t the best spot…

 

At the PyeongChang Olympics, Kogaito captured Hanyu’s triumphant roar from the front, as he proved his overwhelming dominance.In contrast, at the Beijing Olympics, he ended up photographing the champion from behind in both the short program and the free skate.

 

However, more than a year after the Beijing Olympics, when Kogaito looked back at the photographs again during interviews for this book, he spoke with a slightly brighter expression.

 

“Now, it’s one of my favorite photos. Because it’s a back shot, it carries a certain depth that comes through. Since it doesn’t directly capture Hanyu’s facial expression, both I myself and the fans and readers who see it are left to imagine what his expression was at that moment. Because we can’t see his expression, because the photo doesn’t give us a definitive answer, it becomes a photograph onto which everyone can easily project their own emotions. I think it has also become a photo that carries the feelings of Hanyu’s fans and readers who have followed my work over the past four years. The costume and his back are beautiful as well, aren’t they? Originally, I should have been far from taking the best photo, since I couldn’t get into the position I wanted through the lottery. But even so, Hanyu saved me. When I look at this photo and try to imagine his expression, I naturally find myself reflecting on those four years. Thinking about it that way, it’s a wonderful photo. It feels like this is also a photo that Hanyu allowed me to take. I’ve said this many times, but this may not be the kind of photo a sports newspaper is supposed to publish. Still, I strongly pushed for this photo to be used in the paper. It was published, and with that, my four years came to an end.”

 

Four years have passed since the PyeongChang Olympics, where he delivered a brilliant comeback from an injury sustained during the Olympic season and skated with dazzling brilliance. Hanyu had grown older, continued to take on the formidable challenge of the quadruple Axel, and still held onto his aspirations while also facing younger skaters who were challenging him.

 

What did Kogaito see in the “back of the absolute champion” as he captured Hanyu in that moment?

 

“I think Hanyu’s four years were a time of solitude and isolation. Seen from behind, he did not appear to have been freed from that solitary state. I believe people are able to keep pushing forward because they are, eventually, freed from hardship. I sometimes wonder what those four years were like for Hanyu. He suffered injuries and was even unable to return to his training base due to the pandemic. He also had to face challenges from younger skaters. I don’t think people can keep striving through hardship alone. That is why I thought that if he could successfully land the quadruple Axel on the Olympic stage, his efforts up to that point would be rewarded, at least to some extent.”

 

Kogaito was trying to capture that moment.

 

“I was focused on his expression on landing, as well as after he finished the program. If he were to succeed in the quadruple Axel—a jump no one else has ever attempted, one that only Hanyu can do—would he let out a roar like he did in PyeongChang, or would he smile? Would he quietly savor the moment, or would he still show no sense of satisfaction even in success? I had been following Hanyu’s four years while imagining that single moment, wanting to capture it. In the end, it's a scene I wasn't able to photograph. But for now, it's simply that I haven't been able to capture it yet. As Hanyu continues to challenge himself, I believe the day may still come when I can.”

 

In an interview immediately after his free skate at the Beijing Olympics, Hanyu said, “It may have been an unrewarded effort.”

 

However, his solitary pursuit moved many people.

 

Happy endings are not always guaranteed. Success is not everything.

 

Through his unwavering pursuit of excellence, the champion delivered something beyond mere victory to a world weighed down by the COVID-19 pandemic.

 

The official practice session was held at the practice rink the following day for the exhibition gala.

 

Hanyu performed one program after another, as if foreshadowing his transition to professional skating five months later.

 

Kogaito reflects:

 

“If Yuzuru Hanyu’s competitive career were a movie, this scene felt like the end credits.”

 

In the exhibition, he performed 'Haru yo, Koi' to a piano arrangement with heartfelt emotion, playfully interacted with fellow skaters, and broke into a radiant smile when a member of China’s ice dance team swept him up in a princess carry.

 

To Kogaito, it seemed as though Hanyu had finally shed the unyielding “armor” of his solitary existence and, for the first time in a long while, allowed himself to be completely free.

 

 

 

 

 

*Alternative CN translation

https://weibo.com/6473801248/5112653044778645

https://weibo.com/6473801248/5113031319358140

https://weibo.com/7848586779/P5K9DwMpk

[yuzurujenn]

Machine translation. Inaccuracies may exist*

 

 

Chapter 7: Deepening

 

7.1 A flash of light! The Light Born from His Feelings for the Disaster-Stricken Region

 

Spoiler

On July 19, 2022, Hanyu appeared at a press conference in Tokyo with a radiant expression.

 

The press release sent to media outlets the day before described it as a "declaration of determination."

 

With the Beijing Olympics over and the new season about to begin in earnest, his future plans were attracting widespread attention.

 

In Beijing, Hanyu said the following in response to media questions about his future.

 

“I want to refine Yuzuru Hanyu’s skating into a form that I myself can be more and more satisfied with. I want to perform in a way that makes everyone think, ‘I want to see that!’ Whether it’s an ice show or a competition, either way, I want to keep performing so that everyone who watches me thinks, ‘I really love Yuzuru Hanyu’s skating.’”

 

Numerous media outlets had gathered at the press conference venue.

I, too, was there as one of the reporting journalists.

Of course, Kogaito was there as well.

 

The press conference was scheduled to begin at 5 p.m., but Kogaito had been restless since the day before.

 

“When I heard there would be a press conference, the possibility that Hanyu might be retiring from competition crossed my mind. But I also considered that it might not be the case, or that something even more significant could happen. All kinds of possibilities were running through my head. After all, it was Hanyu giving the press conference. Nobody knew what he would say. I knew I couldn’t make any assumptions.”

 

Some media outlets reported Hanyu’s professional transition in their morning newspapers, but Kogaito remained unfazed, saying, “It’s not that simple. I’ll stay neutral until I hear his own words.”

 

Ultimately, he arrived at the hotel five hours before the press conference was due to begin.

 

Arriving at the venue earlier than anyone else—that was Kogaito’s professional pride as a photographer.

 

Perhaps he was too early, as when he arrived at the press conference venue, no one was there yet.

 

“It’s just my own personal satisfaction, and photo positioning isn’t everything, but I don’t want to be caught off guard, and I don’t want to have any regrets like, ‘I should have gone to the venue earlier.’ I think that kind of mental unrest can affect my mindset while shooting. I see going to the venue early as a way to psych myself up and show my resolve as Hanyu holds a press conference. And if seating happened to be first-come, first-served instead of by lottery, arriving early certainly wouldn't hurt.”

 

The press conference venue opened, and television crews prepared for the live broadcast.

Kogaito positioned himself in the center of the front row as seen from the stage and aimed his lens forward.

Hanyu, holding the microphone, began to speak:

 

“Hello, this is Yuzuru Hanyu. Thank you so much for gathering here today and for watching. Thanks to all the support I’ve received, I’ve been able to keep going this far. I’ve received so much support from everyone here, including the media and photographers. I’m truly happy to be able to devote myself to figure skating as Yuzuru Hanyu, supported by all of you. Although I still have much to learn, I’ve decided to continue skating as a professional athlete.”

 

For the first time, Kogaito saw Hanyu’s expression freed from the days of battle.

 

Instead of tears, Hanyu's face was smiling, an expression filled with determination to spread his wings and soar toward his next arena, the new world of professional skating. Kogaito focused his lens on that expression and pressed the shutter.

 

“Listening to the press conference, everything made sense. Hanyu used baseball as an example, saying that beyond the amateur level, there is an even higher professional level, and expressed his desire for the same to be true in the world of figure skating. The media had portrayed figure skating being a sport where competitors are at the top and then step away, as if it were a downgrade. But Hanyu was trying to overturn that concept. His determination to continue stepping up resonated deeply with me. At the same time, I felt incredibly happy. The fact that I will be able to continue photographing Hanyu in the future gave me a great deal of hope.”

 

The figure skater Yuzuru Hanyu, who left a powerful imprint on both the record books and people’s memories, carrying countless honors including back-to-back Olympic titles, has changed his title to “professional skater Yuzuru Hanyu.”

 

And, as always, he carried on through his hectic days, devoting himself to figure skating.

 

In August of the same year, he held a public practice session titled “SharePractice” at Ice Rink Sendai, which would become his training base after turning professional.

 

It was streamed live on his newly launched official YouTube channel, attracting more than 100,000 viewers from Japan and overseas.

 

The event was also opened to the media, and Kogaito went to the rink to cover it.

 

“I was able to photograph him putting on his skates and warming up before practice. I was really happy that I was allowed to capture even moments like that. There had also been an opportunity when his practice at the Cricket Club (in Toronto) was open to the public, but this was the first time I had been able to watch his entire practice routine from start to finish. During practice, Hanyu trained with the same, if not greater, intensity as he had during his competitive days. At times, there was an almost intimidating atmosphere, and I was overwhelmed by his unwavering focus as he continued to skate without easing up. Since it was being streamed live, many people were watching. That was also true during his competitive days, of course. People who look at my photographs have also seen the actual footage. Even so, I believe photographs have the power to show a world that cannot be seen in video. There are things that can only be expressed through photographs. It may sound presumptuous, but I believe there are things that only my photographs can convey, and that is what I want to capture.”

 

Regarding Hanyu at that time, Kogaito recalls a scene that left a lasting impression on him.

 

“During the live stream, comments were pouring in from viewers, and Hanyu smiled as he looked at the flood of messages, so many that his eyes could hardly keep up. I think it was toward the end of practice, but he seemed to be muttering something while reading the comments. With his left hand near his mouth, happily following the messages, the scene seemed to symbolize this interactive initiative with fans, so we used a color photo of Hanyu in that moment in the newspaper.”

 

Sometime later, a surprise offer arrived for Kogaito.

 

It was an invitation for him to serve as an official photographer for “notte stellata,” to be held in March 2023 in Hanyu’s hometown of Miyagi.

 

“Although it was an official assignment, the organizers didn’t impose many restrictions. They told me, ‘We want you to take photos that are uniquely yours, so please feel free to shoot in your own style.’ Receiving such an offer was overwhelming. At the same time, the theme of the earthquake disaster placed a tremendous amount of pressure on me. But if there was a need for my photographs to convey Hanyu’s appeal, then I felt deeply grateful. I approached it with the mindset that I was not the main subject, but rather that my role was to convey Hanyu’s appeal through the camera to those watching him.”

 

For Kogaito, working as an official photographer for an ice show that went beyond the framework of traditional news reporting proved to be a valuable experience that opened up new ground for him.

 

“I also felt a sense of anticipation that I might step onto a new stage.”

 

Up to then, Hanyu had remained solely the subject of news coverage. There was an invisible “wall” between them.

 

However, being an official photographer meant stepping beyond that wall.

 

Kogaito described his position as a “new stage,” saying, “Rather than being a third-party observer as before, I feel I can help create the show together with everyone involved. In that sense, I’ve come to feel that I am part of the show.”

 

The amount of time and number of days available for shooting increased dramatically. He was able to observe Hanyu far more closely than before and discover many new things about him. As a result, his desire as a photographer to capture Hanyu’s appeal grew even stronger.

 

There was one particularly memorable scene.

 

During the show rehearsal, Hanyu came over to Kogaito as he was taking photos.

 

In this show, there was a collaborative performance with Kohei Uchimura, known as the “king” of gymnastics. During preparations, Kogaito was asked for his opinion on the staging, specifically regarding how the curtain behind the floor exercise area would appear during Uchimura’s performance.

 

“Will this show up in the photo?”

 

Kogaito replied honestly, “There’s a big difference in brightness between the rink and the curtain, so it’s hard to capture properly.”

 

Hanyu then replied, “There’s an exposure difference, isn’t there?” using a term normally used by photographers. It made clear how meticulously he was considering every detail as the show’s overall director, thinking carefully about the final presentation of the entire show.

 

With Hanyu at the center, the other skaters worked as one to build a highly polished, cohesive show. Through his lens, Kogaito focused on how to transform such a remarkable performance into compelling photographic works.

 

Reflecting on the show, Kogaido proudly showed me a treasured photograph, saying, "I think this is the best photo I've ever taken."

 

It was March 12th, the final performance day of the show.

 

Hanyu, performing to “Haru yo, Koi,” showcased his hydroblading technique. Bathed in the spotlight, he pressed his right blade into the ice while his left leg extended outward in a cross-like line. With his arms outstretched, his upper body sank so low it seemed almost to touch the ice.

 

Soft and supple, Hanyu captivated the audience with his harmonious skating on the ice. At that moment, both his body and head were so low that they seemed to graze the ice. As a result, countless tiny ice particles shaved off by his skate blades clung to his hair.

 

Immediately afterward, as Hanyu arched his upper body backward, the ice particles clinging to his flowing hair were suddenly sent scattering into the air. It looked as though they were enveloping his body.

 

“I’d never seen so much ice flying through the air. It felt as though it was sparkling and illuminating Hanyu’s expression, which carried his thoughts for the disaster-affected regions. It was as if a flash of light ran through the viewfinder. I’m not exaggerating. The flash was so bright that the viewfinder went completely white. Instinctively, I knew I had captured an incredible photo.”

 

Kogaito feels that even that shot may have been destined.

 

“During the ‘notte stellata’ performances, I had been closely observing Hanyu’s feelings toward the earthquake disaster. The pain and suffering he carried within him was very palpable when watching him up close. I think that was the moment those feelings were finally released. The way the ice particles rose into the air felt like a dance of requiem. Depending on how you see it, those particles could also resemble grains of ‘light,’ or even the star-filled night sky that Hanyu saw immediately after the disaster, which is also the concept behind the show. Back then, looking at that star-filled sky helped heal him and calm his emotional turmoil, even if only slightly. And now, Hanyu is creating that same star-filled sky, bringing comfort to disaster survivors and his fans. That is what I felt when I saw this photograph. I felt that Hanyu had once again made us aware of the power of photography.”

 

 

7.2 The sense of distance with the subject, Yuzuru Hanyu

 

Spoiler

After turning professional, Hanyu also appeared in an ice show in March 2023, held during the off-season for competitive skaters

 

This was the world-renowned ice show “Stars on Ice,” which opened on March 30 at Towa Pharmaceutical RACTAB Dome in Kadoma, Osaka.

 

When he appeared as the final performer of the show, his first appearance in two years, he surprised the audience by performing his 2014–15 free skate, “The Phantom of the Opera.”

 

Why was it a surprise? Because it was a program he had kept “sealed away” for a long time.

 

“This program was from a season in which I suffered greatly from illness and injury, including a collision at the Cup of China (a Grand Prix Series event). For a long time, I had, in a sense, sealed it away, thinking, ‘I would never skate this again.’”

 

Hanyu revealed this at a press conference after the first day of performance.

 

The season after winning the Sochi Olympics, he was involved in an accident in which he collided with another skater during the six-minute warm-up before the free skate at the Cup of China, a Grand Prix Series event. Despite this, he took to the ice for the free skate through sheer determination, and even competed in the NHK Trophy, his second Grand Prix event, ultimately leading to back-to-back Grand Prix Final titles.

Throughout the season, he continued to struggle with poor physical condition, and at the end of 2014, after winning his third consecutive All-Japan Championships while enduring abdominal pain, he was diagnosed with a urachal remnant disorder and underwent surgery.

 

To be precise, the program was first “unsealed” at his Tokyo Dome performance of GIFT in February, when he held the first-ever solo ice show by a figure skater.

 

“After performing it at the Tokyo Dome for the first time since then, I decided to skate it again with the intention of presenting a more complete version of this program and delivering it to everyone in a condition where I could skate it cleanly and fully, with better stamina.”

 

This venue (Towa Pharmaceutical RACTAB Dome) was also the site of the NHK Trophy, which he competed in in a battered condition shortly after the Cup of China.

 

“I myself skated at this venue shortly after the collision at the Cup of China. At that time, the effects of the accident were certainly still present, and I wasn’t able to skate well, so in that sense as well, I am skating here with the hope of delivering a good performance at this venue.”

 

The performance carried a special meaning: a vow to break away from a bitter past that remained vividly etched in his memory.

 

The program, performed in a black-and-white costume, was breathtaking. He landed a 4T–3T combination, a triple Axel followed by three consecutive jumps, and also performed an Ina Bauer, earning a standing ovation.

 

“This ice show, Stars on Ice, is one where both amateur competitive skaters and professional skaters come together and do their best to convey the themes of their individual programs. Each program carries many different feelings, and as a professional skater and as a member and guest of Stars, I wanted to be able to deliver those emotions as well, so I skated here again after a long time.”

 

Following performances in Osaka through April 1, and in Oshu (Iwate) from April 3 to 5, he delivered a passionate performance of 'Phantom' at the Yokohama show on April 6, which was again open to the media. He successfully landed all five jumps, including a quadruple combination and a triple jump combination.”

 

The official photographer for the show was also Kogaito.

 

He said that the aura of professional skater Hanyu, whom he observed up close, was extraordinary.

 

“When Hanyu turned professional, the restrictions of his competitive days were lifted, broadening his range of expression, and he appeared more free and uninhibited. I didn’t see his backstage expressions before performances during his competitive years, so it’s difficult to compare, but just before a show, he gave off an aura of passion and fighting spirit, as if he were about to head into battle. To be honest, it wasn’t so much that he was unapproachable or keeping others at bay, but rather that he was intensely focused and building up his own tension. So I didn’t feel like I was photographing a show. I felt like I was photographing Hanyu as he took on a challenge.”

 

Following notte stellata, Kogaito once again found himself working with Hanyu in an official capacity. At this time, he steeled himself and resolved to take a major step forward.

 

What does this mean? Kogaito clearly explains the difference between press work and official photography.

 

“When I go to cover a show as a media photographer, I photograph the front side of the show, that is, Hanyu on the ice, just like the audience. For a photographer, skill is judged by what angles you choose and what expressions or moments you capture. In that sense, the open arena is the ‘front side.’ The official role, however, allows you to enter the ‘back side,’ meaning the backstage area. That is why you can also point your lens at the skaters’ expressions and gestures behind the scenes. Photographing and being present in the backstage area brings the photographer and the subject much closer, both physically and psychologically. In principle, photographing what is normally hidden inevitably shortens that distance. However, I had long struggled with this approach. For example, Hanyu is extremely focused even during warm-ups. I worried that pointing my lens at him at such a moment might be disruptive. I also wondered whether stepping into aspects of his life not visible from the front, though not exactly private, might have a negative impact on him. But since I was given official access, I also wanted to photograph Hanyu before the curtain rose. During the notte stellata shoot, I sensed Hanyu’s feelings as he confronted the earthquake experience and refrained from photographing backstage. This time, I wanted to take many photos, including backstage scenes as well.”

 

He had decided that if he was going to take on the challenge, it would be during rehearsals. Gathering all his courage to get closer to his subject, Yuzuru Hanyu, he pointed his lens at him, only to be struck by a sudden realization.

 

The person on the other side of the lens, who was supposed to be in the ‘back side,’ was exactly the same as the ‘front-side’ Hanyu.

 

What does that mean?

 

“After Hanyu warms up and the show begins, he doesn’t take a break until the very end of the finale. In other words, even backstage, he remains the same Hanyu we see in front of the camera. He is always in his own world, and I think that even unconsciously, he is aware that he is being watched in every situation. On the front side, there are the eyes of the audience and the media. Backstage, there should ideally be no eyes on him, but even then, Hanyu remained unchanged. If he felt he was being watched, it was only by the camera I pointed at him. If there was any discomfort, I was prepared to step back, as I could sense such things intuitively without needing words. But even backstage, Hanyu seemed to possess an unconscious awareness, almost as if he were objectively observing himself even behind the curtain. That is why even the slightest gestures and postures backstage become picturesque. I realized once again that Hanyu’s greatness lies in his ability to turn everything into a picture.”

 

What dispelled Kogaito’s anxieties and inner conflicts was Hanyu’s unwavering focus, his concentration so intense that he did not allow even a single moment of ‘off’ time.

 

 

7.3 A soft aura enveloping his determination

 

Spoiler

March 2024. A harsh cold gripped the Tohoku region. 

 

Even in the 13th year since the Great East Japan Earthquake, Hanyu continues to send hope and prayers to the affected areas. He struggles with the question of whether it is right for him, someone who survived the disaster without losing his life and continues to live through his beloved skating, to bear the weight of the disaster-stricken regions. At the same time, he wonders whether, precisely because he has achieved back-to-back Olympic gold medals, he carries a duty to face the disaster-affected place that is also his hometown. Every year around this time, Hanyu lives with these complex emotions.

 

Having become a professional skater, Hanyu was able to organize ice shows even during periods that would previously have overlapped with major international competitions such as the Olympics and World Championships. Because of that, in 2023, his first year as a professional, Hanyu led an ice show titled notte stellata, which he staged with fellow skaters.

 

His feelings remained unchanged even in his second year as a professional.

 

During his first solo tour (RE_PRAY), he performed in Saitama, Saga, and Yokohama, with an additional show in Miyagi also scheduled for April. Even amid a hectic schedule, Hanyu remained committed to making this show happen.

 

From March 8 to 10, "Yuzuru Hanyu notte stellata 2024" was held at Sekisui Heim Arena in Miyagi. Kogaito also had the opportunity to be involved in the show for the second consecutive year as the official photographer.

 

The opening-night performance on March 8, which captivated 6,100 spectators, was also open to the media. Hanyu skated "notte stellata," Italian for “a sky full of stars,” with deep emotion, and gracefully performed his new program, Danny Boy, set to piano melodies. In his grand collaboration with actress Mao Daichi on Carmina Burana, he bravely took on the challenge of translating stage-based choreography into figure skating, while working in sync with Daichi. Hanyu’s performance, a fusion of his unwavering feelings for the disaster-affected areas and the evolving world of figure skating, poured a new “light of hope” into the region.

 

Kogaito arrived on site three days before the opening.

 

While being offered the assignment for a second consecutive year was surely an immense honor, his expression when reflecting on it was far from cheerful.

 

“It’s something I’m very grateful for, but being the official photographer for Hanyu’s show is not something I can simply agree to with an immediate ‘Yes!’ or ‘I want to do it!’ At least for me, it requires a great deal of resolve. That’s why, in response to the organizers’ offer, I said, ‘I will take this on with determination.’”

 

What Kogaito paid close attention to was the new program, "Danny Boy."

 

“Personally, I feel that Hanyu and piano music are very well suited to each other. It had been a while since he last performed to a piano piece, since 'Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso,' so I was really looking forward to the program as well.”

 

He exchanged greetings with Hanyu during rehearsals. They did not speak much, but he felt that kind of distance was ideal.

 

In the world of sports journalism, there are many media professionals who find meaning in sharing off-duty time with athletes.

 

“I went out to dinner with that athlete,” “I’m close with this athlete.”

 

Such boasts are often heard, but Kogaito shows no interest.

 

“Perhaps I lack that kind of effort. That’s why I don’t intend to deny journalists or photographers who try to get close to their subjects in private. On the other hand, I believe there is a passage of time that accumulates within the relationship between performer and photographer. I don’t think this kind of exchange is limited to conversations or shared meals. I hope that through the work I produce, I can bridge the distance with my subjects, be recognized through my photographs, and have them acknowledge me.”

 

He has no intention of venturing beyond the world of skating, in which Hanyu, whom he likens to the sun, exists. He believes that even if his photographs are not the best, it is enough that they are recognized. That is why, even in rehearsal venues, spaces accessible only to official photographers, he is never talkative or engaged in conversation with the skaters he photographs. Instead, he directs his lens with a more serious gaze than anyone else.

 

For "Danny Boy," the question was how to capture the atmosphere exuded by Hanyu, clad in a pure white costume, through various angles and compositions.

 

From rehearsals onward, Kogaito focused on this single point, carefully thinking through his camerawork.

 

Then, a key moment that served as a hint appeared during the actual performance. As Hanyu skated "notte stellata," countless tiny lights poured in from behind him.

 

These were bracelet-style bangle lights held by fans in the audience.

 

“This was something I couldn’t have known during rehearsals. I hadn’t imagined that such beautiful light would pour in from the audience seats.”

 

The light from each individual bracelet was not especially bright, no brighter than a star in the distant night sky. And yet, as countless fans came together as one, the sea of lights illuminated Hanyu like a “sky full of stars.”

 

Behind Hanyu, a large spotlight shone like a full moon. On a night with a full moon, stars would normally not be visible. Yet the lights held up by fans created a brilliance resembling a “sky full of stars.” “notte stellata” had revealed an ideal photographic position.

 

The defining shot was captured on the second day.

 

In the scene where Hanyu, performing "Danny Boy," finished his program and headed backstage, the “sky full of stars” created by fans overlapped with his alluring expression and the fluid movement of his hand. His gaze and softly curved hand, though not part of a highlight moment in the choreography, nonetheless conveyed what is characteristically Hanyu. It was a masterful moment born from Hanyu’s unconscious awareness of the gaze directed at him from start to finish, both during and after his performance.

 

Kogaito recalled the show from a year ago.

 

On March 12, 2023, when Hanyu performed "Haru yo, Koi," there was a favorite shot Kogaito had taken in his role as official photographer. As noted earlier, it captured the moment when Hanyu arched his upper body back after a hydroblading position, and countless tiny ice particles from his flowing hair drifted through the air in a fantastical scene. The sparkling ice particles, as if enveloping Hanyu’s body, had been likened by Kogaito to a “sky full of stars.”

 

A year after Hanyu created his “sky full of stars,” it seemed as though the fans in the audience had wrapped him in a “sky full of stars.”

 

Kogaito reflects:

 

“From here on, this is just my interpretation, but I think that for Hanyu, the “sky full of stars” represented the presence of his fans. The Great East Japan Earthquake meant there was a possibility he might not even be able to face his beloved skating anymore. In that situation, the “sky full of stars” he saw on his way to the evacuation center seemed to have given him a light of hope. I even found myself thinking it was pointing toward a slightly distant future. I’m sure Hanyu faced many hardships after turning professional. But the unwavering support of his fans has become that ‘sky full of stars,’ enveloping him. That is what I felt was captured in this photograph. To me, it looked like an answer from the fans to the ‘sky full of stars’ Hanyu created a year earlier.”

 

Kogaito has something he values deeply when it comes to taking photographs.

 

By observing how Hanyu skates and what expressions he shows, and using those as a guide, he believes the resulting photographs naturally allow viewers to clearly sense Hanyu’s thoughts and expression.

 

That is why he believes Hanyu’s gestures toward the fans’ “sky full of stars” were no coincidence.

 

But that is not all. A change was also noticeable in Hanyu’s expression in his second year.

 

“It felt like compassion. His expression was calm, and it gave the impression of a performance that wrapped everything in gentleness.”

 

In fact, Hanyu himself responded in a post-show press interview:

 

“Last time (last year), I had the experience of performing in front of everyone in the disaster-affected area on the anniversary of ‘3.11’ for the first time. To be honest, watching the videos and recalling those memories could be painful at times. I found myself skating while still bound by those feelings. However, within that, it was a show where I received so many things from everyone: hope, energy, and encouragement. This time, I’m skating with the desire to give back even more of what I received back then, and to deliver even more hope. That applies to my new program, 'Danny Boy,' and also to 'Carmina Burana.' Although the music has a strong tone, I’m skating with the hope that people can feel the determination to confront something within it. In that sense, my mindset is completely different from last year, and I feel the concept of the show itself has changed entirely.”

 

Kogaito does not speak much about the Great East Japan Earthquake. He draws a clear line between himself, who was not a victim at the time, and Hanyu, who was directly affected.

 

“I cannot possibly comprehend the feelings Hanyu has about the earthquake, nor the weight of the disaster itself. That is why I cannot speak lightly about it. I feel that no matter what words I use to describe something beyond imagination, they would sound superficial the moment I say them. As someone who was not in the disaster-affected area, I also wondered whether it was right for me, in the responsible role of an official photographer, to document Hanyu’s show, which carries his feelings about the earthquake. This is a conflict I carry. However, if I were to rationalize it, the disaster casts a shadow not only over those directly affected, but also over those who were not, as long as they live through the same era. There are times when you feel powerless to do anything for the affected areas, or find yourself suffering from the thought that it is somehow acceptable for you to live in such peace while others are struggling. If I approach the shoot as someone who carries those feelings as well, then perhaps there is meaning in my presence there. That is what I told myself as I pointed my lens.”

 

 

7.4 Able to take on any color! The intention behind photographing him in a white outfit to mark his second year as a professional

 

Spoiler

July 12, 2024. Kogaito was facing Hanyu in a studio somewhere in Sendai.

 

Kogaito, together with Hiroaki Yamato, the Sponichi reporter covering Yuzuru Hanyu, was conducting an interview and photoshoot for a feature article marking Hanyu’s second anniversary since turning professional as a skater.

 

Despite his extremely busy schedule, Hanyu set aside an hour and a half that day for Sports Hochi and Sponichi.

 

The first 10 minutes were set aside for a joint interview with the reporters, after which each media outlet was allocated 40 minutes.

 

While Sports Hochi conducted a more in-depth interview with Hanyu, Sponichi devoted its remaining time to Kogaito’s photoshoot.

 

Kogaito wanted to photograph Hanyu with “white” as the theme.

 

The second anniversary of his professional skating career also marked the beginning of his third year. For Hanyu, who never stops evolving, his new challenges are something he will keep coloring in his own way. That is why Kogaito chose “white,” a color that can be dyed any color.

 

To match the white outfit requested from the stylist, he also prepared to incorporate white lace accents.

 

He personally visited a fabric wholesaler in Nippori, Tokyo, selecting lace that matched Hanyu’s image.

 

He faced Hanyu after he had changed into the outfit.

 

This was the first time Kogaito had photographed Hanyu one-on-one since the "SharePractice" event held at the Sendai Ice Rink in Hanyu's first year as a professional skater. At that event, too, Hanyu had set aside time for individual sessions with every media outlet covering the event. Kogaito was struck by Hanyu’s imagination back then.

 

When the photoshoot began, Kogaito told Hanyu, “Please move your hands in front of your face, like in past programs such as The Phantom of the Opera and Masquerade.” Hanyu immediately envisioned the image and struck pose after pose.

 

Kogaito recalls, “With just a few words, he responded to my request and expressed something beyond my expectations.”

 

This time was no different.

 

Upon seeing the set, Hanyu first asked, “Is this supposed to feel bright?”

 

“I’d prefer a more subdued feel,” Kogaito replied.

 

Behind a lace-like fabric hanging from the ceiling stood a barefoot Hanyu.

 

Responding to several requests, such as “Please drape the lace like a veil,” Hanyu complied each time, selecting and playing music from his smartphone.

 

“He even danced a program specifically for this photoshoot to match the theme. It was a truly luxurious time. As he enters his third year as a professional, his skating career is still a blank canvas, and there is anticipation for what he will carve out in it. I wanted to incorporate a mysterious, veiled element. And he responded with a performance that far exceeded my imagination.”

 

In the photos Kogaito shared on his computer, Hanyu is not looking directly at the camera. His gaze is slightly lowered. No emotion can be read from his expression. “That’s what makes it good,” Kogaito says.

 

“This is a picture that sparks the imagination that the next year can take on any color.”

 

Interpretation is left to each individual. Hanyu responded to Kogaito’s sentiment.

 

As he moves toward his third year as a professional skater, Hanyu has been steadily leaving his mark.

 

At Fantasy on Ice 2024, where he played a central role, he performed “Meteor,” an insert song from the Mobile Suit Gundam SEED series, in collaboration with T.M.Revolution / Takanori Nishikawa. He brought the Gundam universe onto the ice, as if likening the rink to outer space.

 

On September 15, he held the “Noto Peninsula Reconstruction Support Charity Performance,” expressing his thoughts for those affected by the Noto Peninsula earthquake that occurred on New Year’s Day 2024. As a professional skater, his activities and possibilities continue to expand, seemingly without limit.

 

Kogaito has also had a busy year. In the summer, he traveled to France for the Paris Olympics, and after returning to Japan, he continued covering the Japanese national team during the final round of the Asian qualifiers for the World Cup.

 

However, Hanyu’s presence is never out of his mind, even for a moment.

 

Never forgetting his gratitude to Hanyu, the fans, and readers who elevated him to the status of a “god photographer,” he continues to dedicate himself daily, keeping his gaze fixed on Yuzuru Hanyu through the lens.

 

 

 

 

 

*Alternative CN translation

https://weibo.com/7848586779/P5KjPiB3T

https://weibo.com/7848586779/P5M21rKVI

https://weibo.com/3406979710/5112742656606736

https://weibo.com/7848586779/P5M9GoGd9

[yuzurujenn]

*Machine translation. Inaccuracies may exist*

 

 

Special Feature:

The Subject - Yuzuru Hanyu's "Monologue"

 

Spoiler

October 18, 2024. The outskirts of Sendai were cloudy with a light drizzle.

 

This refers to the day mentioned in the prologue when Hanyu set aside time for both a photo shoot and an interview for this book. That morning, Kogaito traveled from Tokyo to Sendai on the Tohoku Shinkansen.

 

Shortly before 3 p.m., he entered the studio carrying the backdrop paper he had prepared in advance and a wheeled camera bag.

 

Arriving more than two hours ahead of schedule, Kogaito began preparing for the shoot, checking studio props and other equipment with the support of a fellow photographer.

 

Kogaito sketched numerous posing ideas inspired by the subject in his notebook. s he expanded his vision of the shoot and waited in readiness, Hanyu arrived at the studio on time. The two held a brief discussion.

 

After a brief exchange, the shoot began.

 

One particularly memorable scene was the shoot using a pedestal covered in white cloth.

 

Kogaito’s request was an “image of sculpture.”

 

“I have always thought that the forms Hanyu creates with his body resemble great sculptures. Drawing inspiration from that, I wanted to photograph him as if he were a sculpture displayed in a museum.”

 

While Hanyu sometimes plays music himself, on this day the shoot took place in a space enveloped in silence.

 

What was astonishing was Hanyu’s movement.

 

With just the words ‘image of sculpture,’ Hanyu grasped the photographer’s intent and moved from one pose to the next without stopping.

 

He subtly moved his fingertips, raising his hands before his face. His gaze shifted toward the lens and then downward. He rotated his body around the pedestal, using his well-trained core as an axis and moving with remarkable versatility. Every moment captured, from his expression to his gaze, was a picture-perfect image of Yuzuru Hanyu.

 

In no time, the 30-minute shoot came to an end.

 

I then asked Hanyu, just after the shoot had finished.

 

—When you are being photographed as a subject, what kind of mindset do you have?

 

“I don’t really consciously think, ‘I should pose like this.’ There’s also a kind of reliance on them, like they’ll capture my best side.”

 

Saying this with a smile, Hanyu revealed that he had been playing Ryuichi Sakamoto’s piano music in his head during the shoot.

 

As on this day, Hanyu instantly understands what is expected of him as a subject and faces the lens accordingly.

 

“When I’m with a photographer who wants to capture the real me, I remain natural and present myself openly to the lens. In a sense, it feels like they are peeking into the private side of Yuzuru Hanyu. But when I’m with a photographer who wants to capture Yuzuru Hanyu as a skater, I try to present a version of myself immersed in that world. Some photographers also try to focus on my inner self, or my core. It varies depending on the shoot, but I adjust my stance as a subject according to the photographer’s intent and approach.”

 

When facing the lens as a subject, he says the sensibilities he cultivated through figure skating are strongly reflected.

 

“It’s not exactly about changing my awareness, or changing the atmosphere; it’s something I developed through figure skating. It’s similar to how I approach different music depending on the program.”

 

At the same time, figure skating is a discipline in which Hanyu, as a performer, actively and independently expresses himself, with an audience as the receiver of his performance. During his competitive years, there were also judges. As a photographic subject, does Hanyu actively face the lens, or does he passively confront the lens pointed at him?

 

Hanyu paused for a moment and said, “I see,” before sharing his thoughts.

 

“Well, how should I put it… even in figure skating, I sometimes have this image of performing while viewing myself objectively from the outside, from the perspective of the audience or judges. I’m always conscious of ‘how do I look when seen from the outside?’ even while I’m performing. I feel like I carry that same sense into photoshoots as well. In figure skating, I am the one expressing myself, but there is also a part of me that is in the position of the receiver. The balance between objectivity and subjectivity, active and passive, changes depending on the program, but my perception of it feels like an extension of figure skating. Of course, as I mentioned earlier, when the camera is trying to look into my inner self, I try not to view myself from the outside. This may sound abstract, but at such times I feel as though the photographer is making even my soul the subject of the shot. So in those moments, it may be closer to revealing a more instinctive, almost wild side of myself.”

 

Unlike studio photography, Hanyu as a figure skater has continued performing with countless cameras pointed on him from all directions.

 

There are bound to be moments when one wants to take a breather, moments when concentration may loosen even slightly. However, Kogaito says, "Hanyu is always picture-perfect."

 

If that is the case, wouldn’t that mean he is constantly maintaining an extreme level of awareness toward countless cameras? Hearing Hanyu’s unexpected response, I nodded.

 

“In competition, I wasn’t performing for the cameras. When I was a competitor, I think I was constantly aware of the ten judges, including the referee. If all the judges were viewing my body from the front, their respective frontal positions would cover about 120 degrees. I performed with the awareness that I had to look good from any angle. (The judges are no longer there, but spectators who want to watch only Hanyu’s performance now cast their gaze from all directions.) Now that I’m a professional, I have a strong awareness that whether it’s the audience or photographers, I need to look cool and beautiful from every angle, 360 degrees. As for photography, I believe photographers can, in a good way, capture a perfect moment within that. So in that sense, I feel like I am performing while entrusting myself to the photographer’s skill.”

 

Although Hanyu is the subject being photographed, he is also well versed in photography. Even during the interview, he casually uses technical terms.

 

“Looking at the photos, you can tell that each photographer has different preferences when it comes to things like ISO settings, white balance, and many other aspects. I think everyone has their own sense of aesthetics. For me, every program has certain moments where I think, ‘I want this moment to be photographed.’ Take SEIMEI, for example. There’s a moment when the taiko drum goes ‘don,’ I spread my arms wide and open my eyes sharply. But some photographers prefer the dynamic feel of the slight motion blur as I raise my arms, so that’s the moment they aim to capture. With a hydroblade, some photographers capture the instant the pose is perfectly set. Or, in 'notte stellata,' some choose to photograph my reflection on the ice, which looks like the surface of a lake. I think the single ‘point’ each photographer captures in a performance is a view that can only be seen at that particular moment, from that particular vantage point, within the continuous ‘line’ of a figure skating performance. I perform with the awareness that I should look good from every angle, all 360 degrees. But what you see changes depending on where you’re looking from. The way the light falls on me, or the spray of ice thrown up by my skate blades, all look completely different. And the way people interpret what they see also depends on their own sensibilities, doesn’t it?”

 

Hanyu’s performances are always ‘one of a kind,’ and he is meticulous in ensuring that the trajectory of his jumps is not off by even a millimeter. At the same time, the choreography is never exactly the same, even within the same program. He considers his programs to be ‘living things,’ and in this interview, Hanyu admits that he ‘ends up making quite a few adjustments.’

 

That’s why, when he sees a photograph capturing a moment from his performance, he sometimes cannot immediately recall which part of the choreography it comes from.

 

On February 19, 2024, at Pia Arena MM in Yokohama, during the final performance of his first solo tour, ‘Yuzuru Hanyu ICE STORY 2nd “RE_PRAY” TOUR,’ Hanyu said:

 

“Some of you in the audience may only be able to come this once. That's why, every time I perform, I put my soul into it, as if it could end at any moment. I pour everything into each performance. I hope that even a small fragment of today’s emotions remains within you.”

 

He has no intention of delivering the same routines audiences may have seen on television or elsewhere, especially for those who come to experience the immediacy of a live performance.

 

“The atmosphere in the arena that day, his own heightened emotions, and various other factors are woven into the choreography, sometimes leading to subtle changes in the flow of the performance. By valuing each encounter as a once-in-a-lifetime moment and bringing forth a dance that can only exist in that instant, he continues to deliver performances that never fail to move the audience.

 

Kogaito also focuses on the most striking “moment” of the day, capturing the variations that Hanyu weaves into his performance.

 

“The standard approach in figure skating photography is to memorize Hanyu’s choreography, decide on the shot you want to capture, and then aim your lens accordingly. However, I want to capture the unique variations in his choreography that appear only in that particular performance on that particular day. For example, at the 2018 Rostelecom Cup, he performed an Ina Bauer with his left arm raised high and arched backward. It was a scene I had never seen before, and it took me by surprise. Elements like the hydroblade are easy to identify, but beyond that, the fact that subtle details in the choreography change is one of the defining characteristics of Hanyu’s performances. I believe that capturing these variations, seen for the first time even by the audience, will naturally result in the most memorable photograph of the day.”

 

Hanyu favorably views Kogaito’s work (photographs), which captures the “best moment of the day” without compromise, with meticulous attention to even the smallest details of the program.

 

“In figure skating—where the entire space, from left to right, up and down, and forward and backward, becomes a medium of expression across the X, Y, and Z axes—I think Kogaito is the kind of photographer who makes you think, ‘This moment is so cool.’ That’s why I’m happy when he captures scenes that he himself thinks, ‘I like this’ or ‘This is good.’”

 

As Kogaito was taking photographs during the interview, he looked slightly embarrassed. Noticing this, Hanyu laughed mischievously and said, “I’m really praising you right now.”

 

And in the interview, Hanyu described Kogaito as “a photographer who tries to capture what lies within, the core of my being.”

 

These words are deeply etched in Kogaito’s heart. Throughout the interview process, he seemed constantly concerned with how Hanyu perceived his photographs.

 

For a man who had no hesitation in breaking the “conventions” of figure skating, the support of Hanyu’s fans was a great source of strength.

 

Having been entrusted with the role of official photographer for Hanyu’s professional shows, Kogaito had developed a certain sense of accomplishment and confidence in photographing Hanyu.

 

But what did Hanyu himself think?

 

As introduced in this book, Kogaito sought to communicate with Hanyu, his subject, through his photographic works. That is why he believed that the evaluation of his photographs was everything.

 

The phrase “a photographer who wants to capture what lies within” contained the “ultimate answer” Kogaito had long been seeking.

 

What kind of landscape awaits Yuzuru Hanyu, a figure skater, artist, and singular performer who transcends the boundaries of sport and art, as he continues to evolve?

 

No one knows yet.

 

There will undoubtedly come a moment when he unleashes his brilliance.

 

 

 

*Alternative CN translation

https://weibo.com/1746783312/P5bA7do5T
https://weibo.com/1746783312/P5kqt88ne

https://weibo.com/1746783312/P5qnA6vJN

https://weibo.com/6473801248/P5CDvDUZ6

[Martina]

On 12/25/2024 at 5:47 PM, yuzurujenn said:

There are two photos here: one shows Hanyu, adrenaline fully flowing, posing as the absolute champion after completing his challenge. He shows a deeply serious expression, a moment where he overcame his injuries and was certain he could defend his honour. The other photo shows him from behind, challenging an unprecedented skill and ending his battle with himself, reflecting his solitary existence.

 

The background of these photos corresponds to two monumental moments: the first, after his victory in the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics where he defended his Olympic title, a feat not accomplished in 66 years; the second, when the ISU recognised him for attempting the first-ever quadruple Axel at the Beijing Olympics. The photographer of both images was Kogaito of Sponichi.

Hi,
I bought the digital version of the book while I was in Japan. These are the photos mentioned in this passage.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1v1GUo2AwhCt8-SjkHye9Vn9zfwN7ckBa/view

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1YYbqfpka2z9vdShg6t9F6akfBhkxUwT_/view

I have no idea if there are better ways to share images on this site.

I haven't read the other messages yet, so I don't know how complete your translation is, but I can always take more screenshots if needed.

[yuzurujenn]

*Machine translation. Inaccuracies may exist*

 

 

In Place of an Afterword

 

Spoiler

“I want to leave it in a book, as a photographer who changed sports reporting.”

 

I had known Kogaito, a photographer for Sponichi, from occasionally seeing him at figure skating events.

 

The first time we properly sat down and spoke was in September 2023, when I contacted him after getting his contact information from Hiroaki Yamato, a figure skating reporter for Sponichi.

 

How far could I get into the mind of a man of few words, even in interview settings? However, that concern proved unfounded, as he spoke in clear, straightforward words, tracing his journey as a photographer and expressing his deep respect for Yuzuru Hanyu.

 

As a writer myself, I know that a writer's character comes through in their writing, but isn’t that even more true in the world of photography?

 

Hanyu’s transparency is something a photographer with impure intentions cannot capture. It was such a courteous and gentlemanly interview that it made me think that.

 

Having become a professional skater, Yuzuru Hanyu continues to expand the scope of his activities.

 

His field is no longer confined to figure skating as a sport, nor even to the broader category of sports, nor even to Japan as an island nation.

 

How does Kogaito view Hanyu? What kind of photographer does Kogaito aspire to be in the future? This interview will be a bit long, but I would like to record Kogaito's thoughts, spoken with a Kansai accent.

 

“I’ve always thought this: we haven’t been able to fully capture Hanyu’s charm. He should be in an environment where he can be photographed by a wider variety of photographers.

 

When he was competing, the number of people who could photograph him was limited. I believe it was only photographers belonging to newspapers and magazines. Of course, there were also commercial shoots, such as for TV commercials, but those were limited. As a result, the only people who could photograph Hanyu were those of us working in sports journalism. We are grateful to have a once-in-a-generation performer like Yuzuru Hanyu, but at the same time, I felt it was a great missed opportunity that we were only able to photograph him with our limited repertoire.

 

There are many specialists in photography outside of journalism, and I believe there are ways of photographing him that we simply cannot do. I always thought there must be many more ways to express and bring out Hanyu’s charm.

 

Since Hanyu turned professional, the world I had imagined has started to become reality. His appearances in luxury brand advertisements have increased, and he has appeared on the covers of various fashion magazines, expanding the scope of his activities. These works go beyond anything I had imagined, and I believe they are exactly what fans had been hoping for. For me, it is something truly wonderful, and I feel inspired, thinking, “So this is also a form of expression.” At the same time, it makes me determined to compete with expressions that only I can create.

 

From now on, I will be stepping out of the narrow world of news reporting and being compared not only with other photographers, but also with renowned creators and artists. I believe we have entered an era in which sports photographers must continue to evolve. The eyes of the audience are becoming more discerning, and the same work as before will no longer be appreciated in the same way.

 

Within the framework of sports journalism, I may be called a “god,” but compared to people outside of that world, I am prepared to be told, “He’s not that impressive.” It may not be about competing, but I want to unlock more of the “potential” that has been dormant within me.

 

Thanks to the support of Hanyu’s fans, I was able to break through the “conventional” format of sports reporting. I want to free my own sensibilities and continue to explore new aspects of Hanyu’s charm.”

 

As always, his response was self-critical, but at the same time, I was surprised by his forward-looking outlook. He does not rest on his laurels, but constantly strives for evolution. I couldn’t help but think that this was the same mindset as that of the absolute champion, Yuzuru Hanyu.

 

Of course, even if you asked him directly, he would probably deny it, saying, "I'm not someone who can be compared to him on the same level.

 

The sense of crisis Kogaito feels also applies to me as a sports writer. Within the framework of sports reporting, there are many familiar reporters covering figure skating.

 

Each reporter’s articles have their own individuality, and there are many pieces and features that make you marvel as you read them. I've diligently honed my interviewing and writing skills through constant effort, but I had not really been conscious of the outside world.

 

Through my interview with Kogaito, I was made to keenly realize that anyone who follows Yuzuru Hanyu must never stop moving forward, no matter their position.

 

Kogaito’s path reflects a mix of rebellious spirit and pride.

 

And his gratitude toward Hanyu runs profoundly deep.

 

“I had been involved in sports since I was a child, and I seriously wanted to become a professional athlete someday. At the same time, I was also interested in art during high school, and my art teacher even told me, ‘Why don’t you go to art school?’ Now I’m able to work in a job that allows me to express sports in an artistic way, so to speak, doing two things I love at the same time. That’s why I was so happy when I became a sports newspaper photographer.

 

I wanted to take the kind of photos I wanted to take, but there are ‘standard forms’ in photojournalism, and the artistic sensibilities I like aren’t really sought after. Rather than free expression, it’s a world where you’re required to work within a framework passed down from the past, and to be honest, I sometimes felt a sense of suffocation, as it was difficult to express myself. I was able to continue because my desire to stay close to sports was being fulfilled. But then I met Hanyu. It was fate, wasn’t it? He changed my life.

 

Photographing Hanyu gradually unleashed another desire in me: to express myself freely through photography. Of course, I was inexperienced at first. But because Hanyu was such an extraordinary subject, I believe I was able to broaden the range of my expression over time. I feel deeply grateful to him for helping me become the person I aspired to be.”

 

I have been covering Yuzuru Hanyu as a beat reporter since 2011. I witnessed his consecutive Olympic victories and numerous world record scores firsthand, and have written articles about them.

 

However, I have always been left with a sense of inner conflict.

 

I wondered whether I was truly able to convey Hanyu’s greatness through written words. Having watched Kogaito from the sidelines, I envied, and at times even felt jealous of him, who has come to be known as a ‘god photographer.’

 

However, I learned through this interview that even Kogaito harbors a similar struggle: “The Hanyu I see through the lens never quite fits within the frame. The world he expresses is so vast that it cannot be contained within the viewfinder.”

 

Kogaito's perspective is inspiring.

 

“Because it cannot be contained in a single photograph, I believe it is necessary to capture even what cannot be seen. The world Hanyu expresses is not limited to what is visible. I have to imagine and interpret many things beyond that, and express them in my photographs. I think Yuzuru Hanyu is that kind of subject. That is why, among the photographs I have taken of Hanyu, there is not a single shot that I am truly satisfied with. I always carry that sense of conflict and frustration. I would like to take a photograph that I can one day be truly satisfied with. I have no sense that such a day will come anytime soon, but as a photographer, that is what I want to continue aiming for.”

 

I interviewed Kogaito more than ten times. Some lasted nearly three hours at times. He patiently verified even the smallest details, showing me actual photographs and published pages, and explaining things carefully to me, a complete novice in the world of photography.

 

His perspective on capturing Hanyu was always fascinating, and each interview was an enjoyable experience that drew me deeper into the world of photography. I would like to take this opportunity to express my sincere gratitude once again.

 

I would also like to express my gratitude to Yutaka Nagakubo of Sponichi, who kindly cooperated despite his busy schedule to provide additional information. It is clear that Nagakubo’s warm support for his somewhat strong-willed junior photographer played a key role in giving rise to the “god photographer.”

 

The Yuzuru Hanyu photobook “y”, published by Sports Nippon with photography by Kogaito and composition by Nagakubo, received the Silver Award in the design category at the “Graphis Design Awards 2025,” an international competition recognizing creators worldwide, in July 2024.

 

The award was the result of guiding readers into a world distinct from traditional sports photography, and I would like to congratulate Kogaito on the fruition of his efforts, as documented in this book.

 

I would also like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to Tatsuya Murao of Yama-Kei Publishers, who, following my previous book “A Portrait of Yuzuru Hanyu: 4,000 Days Of An Absolute Champion As Seen by a Reporter,” served as editor and carefully checked every single word with great attention to detail.

 

I would also like to express my deepest gratitude to Yuzuru Hanyu, who took the time out of his busy schedule to give an interview for this book and thoughtfully spoke about his position as a subject, and to all readers, including Hanyu’s fans, who read through to the very end.