[2025.07.26] Figure Skating Magazine 2024-2025 Season Highlights (BBMOOK 1680)

[yuzurujenn]

Figure Skating Magazine 2024-2025 Season Highlights: B.B. Mook (BBMOOK)

フィギュアスケートマガジン2024-2025シーズンハイライト: B・Bムック (B.B.MOOK)

 

Info: https://www.bbm-japan.com/article/detail/62568

https://www.amazon.co.jp/フィギュアスケートマガジン2024-2025シーズンハイライト-B・Bムック-B-B-MOOK/dp/4583628420

 

 

Contents
Echoes of Love.
That’s why I’m living in the now.

 

Yuzuru Hanyu

 

Opening Column: "Be kind to others."

 

Interview
"As long as we use 'words,' we’ll never truly reach what we want to express.
I think 'nearly equal' is good enough."

 

Post-Interview Note: Imagination is love.

 

PHOTO STORY – Yuzuru Hanyu: SKATE & JOURNEY
"The young man, Yuzuru Hanyu." One year later.

 

ICE STORY 3rd
Echoes of Life – Saitama Performance
Always, “I love you.”

 

Saitama Performance – Press Conference

 

PHOTO STORY – Yuzuru Hanyu: SKATE & JOURNEY
It was dark. But I accepted it.

 

ICE STORY 3rd
Echoes of Life – Chiba Performance
Live on, and into the future.

 

Chiba Performance – Press Conference

 

notte stellata 2025
Treasuring the memories of that day, always.

 

PHOTO STORY – Yuzuru Hanyu: SKATE & JOURNEY
The continuing memory of “SEIMEI.”

 

What the reporter saw in the “professional”
Yuzuru Hanyu – Because now, he is "happy."

 

Photographer Talk – Mr. Toru Yaguchi
He became someone who can empathize with others’ feelings.
That’s why Yuzu has become even kinder.

 

Sendai City Arena Opening Commemorative Event – The First Skate
Because he loves "Sendai."

 

Reporter Roundtable Discussion
Right now, Hanyu is doing what he loves, and enjoying all of it.
He seems to have found peace of mind.

Meeting – 5:00 p.m. @ First-Floor Conference Room

 

 

 

[yuzurujenn]

PLEASE DO NOT REPLY IN THIS THREAD

 

*machine translation, inaccuracies exist*

 

Source: https://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309405192664277712900

 

Special Interview - Yuzuru Hanyu

 

Spoiler

Just like at the Olympics, I perform at ice shows with the mindset that 'this could be the last time.'

 

— Thank you for your time today.

Hanyu: Thank you as well. I’m in your care.

 

— Sorry to bother you when you're so busy...

Hanyu: Oh no, not at all (laughs). Please go ahead.

 

— The theme of this interview is “what it means to be a professional,” and we’d like to hear your thoughts on that. In the 2024–2025 season, you held Ice Story: Echoes of Life, with performances in three venues nationwide. During that time, you served not only as a performer, but also as the executive producer. As a producer, I imagine you were constantly thinking about “what the stage looks like from the audience’s perspective,” especially on opening day, December 7th.

 

Hanyu: On the opening day... hmm, how should I put it... Of course, I’m aware of the cheers, the applause, the gaze of the audience. But more than that, I care about whether what I want to express is being properly conveyed, and whether the stage, including all of its effects, is functioning smoothly overall. To be honest, I don’t really have the capacity to pay attention to much else. Most of the time, I’m in a state of complete, single-minded focus.

 

Naturally, I place great importance on the overall presentation as well. The Ice Story series is not composed of figure skating alone. It includes the program structure, the ticketing system, the way the show is run, obstructed-view seating, what the audience actually sees, how satisfied they are, and even what might leave them dissatisfied... What I mean by “running smoothly” is eliminating as many factors as possible that could cause the audience discomfort or dissatisfaction.

 

— On the day of the performance, feedback from fans comes flooding in. Do you also look at these “voices” online?

Hanyu: Yes, I do look at them. Of course, I check out the impressions fans post after watching the performance, especially since opening day is also media day, I pay attention to what kind of articles the media will write after seeing the first show, what perspective they’ll present. But to be honest, during the performance itself, I don’t have the time or capacity to think about any of that. What I focus on first is just “getting through the show safely,” or rather, “giving it my all until the very end.”

 

— For some audience members, that day’s performance might be the only time in their life they get to see Yuzuru Hanyu live.

 

Hanyu: Yes, that’s exactly how I think of it. Maybe it’s because I used to be a competitive athlete. Even though there may be many competitions with the same name, “a certain competition in a certain year” only happens once in a lifetime. The Olympics are the ultimate example of that. Even if the Olympics are held twice in the same venue, it’s rare for an athlete to get the chance to compete there both times during their career. So when I think about things like that, I always have this feeling of “this performance is a once-in-a-lifetime event.”

 

That feeling doesn’t change even in ice shows. For those who come to watch, of course it could very well be the only time. There are also people who have saved money for years just to finally be able to come. Lately, for example, some junior high school students may have finally gotten a device that lets them watch something they love, and they’re finally able to view a stream. Or some young people might have gone to see a live cinema viewing for the first time. For them, “the first time seeing Yuzuru Hanyu” might also be “the last time.”

 

That’s why I pour everything I have into each performance. Whether it’s the opening show or the final one, that mindset never changes. I always perform with the feeling that “every show is the grand finale,” that “every show is the last one.”

 

Figure skating is not a job to me, it’s an extension of who I am

 

— The title “Profession: Yuzuru Hanyu” was coined by Mansai Nomura. Hanyu-san, what would you say your own “profession” is?

 

Hanyu: What I can say with the most confidence is skating. But if you ask me whether I want to call skating my “job,” honestly, I’d rather not. Of course, I absolutely acknowledge that skating is my work, and I skate with a deep sense of pride. But at the end of the day, I don’t want to limit skating within the framework of “a job.” The reason is… ultimately, I want to keep liking skating. But the moment it turns into something like “I’m only doing this because it’s work,” I worry that my curiosity, my drive to improve, and other motivations might gradually disappear. That’s why I don’t really want to define skating as a “job.” I try not to say “skating equals work,” though it may be a subtle difference in wording.

 

So when Mansai Nomura said “Profession: Yuzuru Hanyu,” it felt really fitting to me. Because that title encompasses not just skating but includes all the effort I put into many areas, the knowledge I absorb, the way I organize information, and the things I create on my own, all to shape a kind of comprehensive artistic expression centered on “figure skater Yuzuru Hanyu.” That’s the kind of mindset I bring to my professional activities. In that sense, my “profession” isn’t limited to skating; it includes many other elements. But as I just mentioned, the foundation, my absolute core is skating without a doubt. I always want to exist as “Yuzuru Hanyu, the figure skater.”

 

— Then is there a clear boundary between “Professional Yuzuru Hanyu” and “Yuzuru Hanyu in everyday life”?

 

Hanyu: If you say there is, then there is. If you say there isn’t, then there isn’t… (laughs). It’s honestly a really subtle question. Like I mentioned earlier, I don’t really want to call skating “work,” and maybe that’s part of why I don’t want to draw a firm line. Once I say “Skating is my job,” to a certain degree, it’s hard to explain, but it gives off this feeling like, “that’s all there is to it.” It becomes skating just for the sake of work. I’ve always been afraid of it turning into that. So to me, skating is more like an extension of myself. It’s close to being “equal,” but it’s not exactly the same.

 

Human beings use imagination to get closer to one another’s hearts. It’s precisely because of this that we’re able to live

 

— In ice story, I felt a kind of approach where “the conclusion of the story is left to the audience to decide for themselves.” But if someone were to watch Echoes and then write an article interpreting it in their own way, I imagine you might sometimes feel, “No, that’s not what I meant,” right?

 

Hanyu: Ah, no. That doesn’t happen. It doesn’t. Not at all.

 

— Really?

 

Hanyu: Up to this point, including GIFT, I’ve already written three works. Each program has been interpreted and analyzed in many different ways, but I hardly ever think, “That’s not what I meant to express.” It’s not that I’ve just let go and left things up to chance. I’m not saying, “The answer lies within you. Please decide for yourself.” And I’m also not saying I’ve finished the piece and then released it into the world like a child who must now stand on their own, so people can interpret it however they like…

 

it's because language, especially language, is just a tool to connect one’s inner thoughts and feelings with others, right? In a sense, it’s like the “string” of a paper cup telephone. We turn our thoughts into “sound” and try to convey it across that string. Likewise, a figure skating performance, or the story I’ve written, is also just a part of that string. So… how to say this… the true intention, the core feelings I want to convey to others, don’t actually lie on that string. That string is just a tool… and so, the real feelings, the real situation, the essence of what I want to communicate, as long as I’m using language, as long as I’m using figure skating, I believe it can never be completely conveyed. I’ve come to accept that. On the flip side, when we listen to music, read lyrics, or read various writings, do we truly understand 100% of what the other person wanted to express? I think the answer is no. Most likely, it’s never 100% identical. It’s more like an approximate equality. And it’s because of that approximate nature that things become interesting. It’s precisely because there are many different interpretations that human culture came into being.

 

I think mathematics is something extremely beautiful, but it’s exactly because there are human activities that can’t be expressed in mathematical formulas, and because things can’t be conveyed perfectly, that people use their imaginations to get closer to one another’s hearts, to search for answers from within their own experiences. That’s why we’re able to live as human beings. That’s a kind of “essence” I carry within me.

 

So, as a creator, I believe there are all sorts of possible interpretations, but the feeling of “that’s not what I meant to say” almost never arises. If anything, if I do feel that way, I’d probably think it was due to my lack of skill or a shortcoming in how I expressed it.

 

I'm more on the 'artist' side of things. But when it comes to ambition, I’m still very much an athlete.
(t/n: In Japanese, “アーティスト” (artist) doesn’t strictly mean “fine artist” or “artistic genius.” It’s a more neutral term that refers to someone engaged in creative or expressive work, like a performer or creative professional, and doesn’t carry a self-important or boastful nuance)

 

— In the media interview for the Chiba performance, you said: “Somehow, lately I’ve started to feel less lonely.” Does that mean, up until then, you had been feeling quite lonely?

 

Hanyu: Hmm… How should I put it. When it comes to talking about things like "expression," honestly, at the time when I became a pro, or right before turning pro, I did feel like I didn’t have anyone to talk to about that. Even after I turned pro, when it came to the aspects like “What is expression?” or “What kind of mindset should I bring to skating?”, I always felt that there was a gap, a barrier that I couldn’t quite cross between myself and others.

 

When it comes to how other skaters see “what it means to be a professional” or “what expression is”... to be frank, I didn’t really have anyone I could truly look up to in my heart. I guess you could maybe say, I kinda felt that the current ice shows are just bland. After all, there are still so many more things I wanted to express. Not just the "feelings" I put into skating, but also in terms of daily life, physical preparation, and other areas, I realized that where I stand is probably very different from other professional skaters today. Our directions are fundamentally different.  Precisely because of that, no matter how hard I worked, I had this persistent feeling of “walking a path that never intersects with theirs.” So even in the midst of performing in ice shows, I often felt a sense of loneliness.

 

But recently, I’ve been able to connect with truly amazing artists like Nomura Mansai-san, Yonezu Kenshi-san, and Hoshino Gen-san. I’ve had the chance to discuss “expression” with them, and in those moments, I suddenly realized: "Ah, it turns out that I belong to this side." Even on the production side, I’ve had the privilege of working with top-tier people. In that space, there were people I could truly communicate with, people who could create something of that magnitude alongside me, and in that sense, I came to feel that I wasn’t lonely at all anymore.

 

— In July 2022, you announced your transition to being a professional. Is there anything that you didn’t realize at the time, but have come to understand now, three years later?

 

Hanyu: I came to realize, “Ah, I'm someone on the creator side.” Until now, I had been on the receiving end of choreography. Once I received it, I would interpret it and think about how I could express them within the rules of competition, how I could maximize my score… and how to balance that with expression. Those were the kinds of things I was constantly weighing while competing.

 

I think this also connects to the topic of “loneliness” I mentioned earlier. The more I talked about the things I think about, or my habitual ways of thinking, the more I realized that the people who resonated with me were mostly artists. Not fellow competitors, but rather people more on the artistic side… That’s something I’ve only come to understand recently. Over the past three years, how should I say this, I’ve come to feel that, deep down at my core, I was always more of an “artist type.”

 

That said, before those three years, I spent over twenty years in the world of competitive figure skating, constantly living within the framework of “winning and losing.” That’s why I have this competitiveness, a hunger for victory, that was born from that experience. That’s something I’ve carried with me as an “athlete,” and I’ve really come to feel that again. So now, as someone who’s trying to master figure skating as both a professional skater and a professional athlete, I want to continue being a hybrid. That’s what I’m aiming for.

 

I don’t expect everything to be completely understood, as long as it’s ‘approximately equal,’ that’s enough

 

— In the past, as a competitive athlete, Hanyu-san, you rarely showed your personal life. Within that limited information, your fans’ “imaginations” coexisted with you. In a way, that was also part of your unique charm. But now, your identity has shifted to that of a “performer.” Have you started to think, “I want people to understand my thoughts more”? What’s your actual view on that?

 

Hanyu: Hmm… how should I put this. For example, in the past, not showing my personal life was, in a sense, a kind of “strategy.” Back in my competitive days, like before the Olympics, you wouldn’t go around saying, “This is the kind of training I’m doing in private,” right? You can’t reveal your hand. After all, you want to win. That’s how I had always seen it, and I never felt the need to publicly share my personal life. Because I had lived like that all along, I honestly never really thought about things like “I want people to empathize with me.”

 

But I could feel that there were a lot of fans who would share in the little joys of my daily life, or feel happiness or worry depending on the small pains or struggles I was going through. Recently, in places like my YouTube membership area, I’ve started to talk a little more about things happening in my life.

 

But basically, I want to compete through figure skating. It’s through skating that I express the feelings in my heart. So if you ask me, “Do you want your true feelings to be fully understood?” My answer is still: “As long as it’s ‘approximately understood,’ that’s enough.”

 

For example, when I was creating ICE STORY, it wasn’t with the mindset of, “I’ve poured every ounce of my heart into this!” Nor did I expect everyone to understand everything about it.

 

JP text for pg 26

Spoiler

僕はアーティスト系の「側」にいて。でも、貪欲さはアスリートのままで。 ––千葉公演の囲み取材の中で、「なんか僕が孤独だとはそんな思っていないんですけど…最近は」という話がありました。ということは、前までは「孤独だ」と思っていたということでしょうか。 羽生: まあでも、こういう「表現」の話とか、今までプロとして変わったときだったり、プロに転向する直前だったり、その時に話ができる仲間がいなかったというのは、正直なところ思っていました。プロスケーターになったとしても「表現ってなんだろう」っていう話だったり、「スケートに対してどういう気持ちで向き合っていくのか」っていう気持ちのレベルの差みたいなものが、どうしても埋まり切らないっていうか。ほかのスケーターが考えている「プロ」というもの、「表現」というもの…。心の中をざっくり言っちゃうと、尊敬できる人が心の中にいなかったんですよ。 言ってみれば、僕は「既存のアイスショーはつまんないな」と思っちゃった。やっぱり僕自身が表現したいことって、もっともっといっぱいあるし、僕自身がスケートにかける「思い」だけじゃなくて、日常生活であったりとか、体力であったりとか、そういったものって、きっと、いま現在いるプロスケーターの方々とのレベルっていうのがものすごく違うところにいて、方向性自体がそもそも違っている。そういう意味では、自分がどんだけやったとしても「これは交わることのない道に進んでいるんだな」ということは、アイスショーをやっていても、孤独に感じることはあったんです。 今は、直近でいえば野材萬斎さんであったり、米津玄師さんであったりとか、星野源さんであったり、そういった本当に素晴らしいアーティストの方々とつながることができて、そこでやっぱり表現の話をしていて、「あ、僕はこっち側の人間だったんだな」とあらためて感じたりもして…。制作の面でも一流の方々に携わらせていただいて、その中で「話が通じる」というか、よりいっそう「これだけのものを作り上げてくださるんだ」という仲間がいたという意味で、全然、孤独ではなくなったなという思いでいたんです。 ––羽生選手は2022年の7月にプロ宣言をして、でも3年前には気付いていなかったことは何でしたか。 羽生:「僕は作り手側だったんだな」っていうことは思いました。僕は、今までは振り付けをしていただく側であって、(振り付けを)もらって、それをいろいろ解釈して、それを競技会という中のルールに則ってどれだけの表現ができるか、どれだけ点数をもぎ取れるか、その両立をどういうふうにやっていくかを考えながら競技をしていたんですよ。 なんか、さっきの「孤独」の話の続きになっちゃうんですけど、思考していることであったりとか、自分の思考癖だったりとか、そういったことを話していけばいくほど、それに共感してくださる方々が、だいたいアーティストだったということです。競技者じゃなくて、どっちかっていうとアーティストだったんだな…っていうのが最近わかってきて。そういう意味でこの3年間過ごしてみて、なんだろう…僕の根本の中にいる、中身みたいなものは、やっぱアーティスト系であったんだなというのは、この3年間で思いました。 ただ、その3年間の前に、20何年間、フィギュアをずっとやってきて、その中で「勝ち負け」という中でずっと過ごしてきたからこそ生まれている負けず嫌いさというか、勝ち負けに対する貪欲さみたいなものは、「アスリート」として持ち合わせているんだなということをあらためて感じてもいるので。だから、この「ハイブリッド」として、プロスケーター、プロアスリートとしてのフィギュアスケートを極める身として、ハイブリッドでいたいなっていうつもりではいますね

 

[Wintek]

*machine translation JAPANESE to ENGLISH, inaccuracies exist*

Echoes of Love.

That's why I'm living in the present.

 

Spoiler

The 2024-2025 season will be Yuzuru Hanyu's third year as a professional skater. In the ice story "Echoes of Life," he asks viewers about the meaning of "living" through various "words."

 

In an interview with this magazine, Hanyu said, "What I really want to convey will never be conveyed as long as I use words." And yet, he said, "That's why it's interesting." The theme of this issue of Figure Skating Magazine is "philosophy." I'd like to take a peek at a part of the artist Yuzuru Hanyu.

 

Hanyu Yuzuru

 

What I really want to communicate will never be conveyed as long as I use words and do figure skating.

But that's what's fun about it.

I think it's because of all the different interpretations that the "culture" of humanity was born.

"Be kind to others."

Figure Skating Magazine has become a once-a-year publication. This issue focuses on “the changes in Yuzuru Hanyu.” What personally caught my attention was the “gentleness” in his voice.

Text by Shinichi Yamaguchi (山口真一)
Photos by Ryosuke Mōde (毛受亮介)

---

 

Spoiler

Huh… Hasn't Hanyu-kun’s voice become gentler?

As I was watching the March 7th Rifu ice show video—beginning with Notte Stellata—that’s what I felt. And I’m probably not wrong. It really was a gentle voice.

It was during the opening greeting of the show:

“The night sky I looked up at was so beautiful, and… well, I can’t say something as simple as ‘I received hope from those stars,’ but somehow, well… the memory of how beautiful it was has become, for me, a really, really precious one.” [1]

And the closing words as well:

“I would be really, really happy if you could, in any way, support the recovery from any disaster, even just a little.” [2]

He held back from speaking too fast, and seemed to savor each word carefully. His familiar phrases—like “really, really” and “truly, truly”—are ones we’ve heard often in past interviews, and they gave a strong sense of “Hanyu-ness.”

Why, I wonder, has his voice become so gentle?

In July 2022, Hanyu made his “declaration of intent” as a professional athlete. Three years have passed since then. During this time, he’s had the chance to work with people he likely wouldn’t have encountered in his former life as a competitive skater—people he’s met through the field of “work.” And I believe that’s played a significant role in his life.

In this issue, I spoke with two photographers about their impressions of him. What they shared struck me as quite on point.

Yoshiki Kogaito said:

“He reached the pinnacle of figure skating, but I think even after that, Hanyu-san always carried the question: ‘How far can I go in the world beyond that?’”

“And when he stepped outside, those he respected called out to him, saying, ‘Let’s work together.’ (Omitted) I think that must have given him confidence.”

Toru Yaguchi said this:

“Lately, Hanyu-kun has said he feels like he’s become able to really empathize with people’s feelings.”

“When I heard that from him, I thought, ‘Ah, this person is already invincible.’
He became a champion of figure skating at a young age, has the capacity for tireless effort, and possesses a clear worldview. And through his professional skating career, he’s realized one more important thing—something vital in conveying emotion.”

A firm confidence in the way he lives that, I believe, has led to a shift within him, and that internal transformation has found expression in the gentleness of his voice. That’s what I thought after reading through the entire manuscript.

“Please, take care on your way home. Thank you very much.”

I can’t watch the March 7th video of Hanyu anymore on my computer. But the memory of that “gentle voice” on screen still lingers in my heart.

NOTES:

[1] The quote has some elements that show a softer speech. E.g.
- “別に、その星たちから希望をもらったとか,” In casual conversation, "とか/toka" can be used to soften the tone of a sentence, similar to saying "or something."
- “なんとなく、その、とてもきれいだったなという記憶,” The pauses (「その、とても〜」) reflect a natural, unguarded way of speaking, which adds tenderness.
-「すごくすごく大切な思い出になっています」,「本当に本当に、うれしいなと思います」, repetition of intensifiers (すごく/sugoku/ “very”, 本当に / hontoni / “truly or really”) reflect emotional sincerity and emphasis. Repeating soft intensifiers rather than using dramatic words conveys earnest emotion without sounding overbearing.

[2] 「どうか、どんな災害でもいいので、ちょっとでも皆さんのご支援をしていただけたら、本当に本当に、うれしいなと思います」; どうか/ doka, ちょっとでも/ chotto demo, 〜していただけたら/shite itadaketara, these are polite, softened requests. Yuzuru uses humble language (〜いただけたら). Again, repetition of 本当に本当に (hontoni / “really or trully”).

 

[Wintek]

*machine translation JAPANESE to ENGLISH, inaccuracies exist*

Interview to Yuzuru Hanyu: “As long as we’re using ‘words’, we can’t truly convey what we want to express. I think ‘nearly equal’ is good enough.”

Spoiler

Compared to a year ago, I noticed that Yuzuru Hanyu has "no hesitation at all". Next time, I want to dig deeper into myself as an "artist" and as a "philosopher" who calmly assesses the nature of words. This interview made me make that decision. (Recorded in April 2025)

Text by Shinichi Yamaguchi (山口真一), Photos by Ryosuke Menju (毛受亮介) 

Ice shows are like the Olympics. I perform with the feeling that each one might be my last.

— Thank you for joining us today.
Hanyu: Thank you for having me. Looking forward to it.

— Sorry to take up your time when you're so busy...
Hanyu: No, no, not at all (laughs). Let’s do it.

— The theme for today’s interview is "as a professional." In the 2024–2025 season, you produced the Ice Story: “Echoes of Life” tour, which was performed in three venues nationwide. You were both the star of the show and its overall producer. I imagine that as a creator, you were constantly thinking about “how the stage looks from the audience’s perspective,” especially on opening night, December 7.

Hanyu: On the first performance... hmm, of course things like the cheers, the sound of the applause, the way the gazes feel, of course, I do care about those things, but more than that, what matters to me is whether or not I’m able to express what I want to express, including the direction and staging, and whether I can deliver everything without missing anything. I guess what I’m trying to say is: I don’t really have much extra room mentally. More often than not, I find myself in a state of “completely locked-in focus.”

What I care about, ultimately, is the “overall” aspect. The Ice Story series isn’t something that’s made up purely of skating. It includes everything from the flow of the show to how the tickets are handled, how the event is run, how sightlines are managed, how the show is seen by the audience, what level of satisfaction they feel, where their frustrations might be... I'm constantly thinking about all of it. I aim to make sure that there are no elements of dissatisfaction anywhere and there are no “inconsistencies.”[1]

— On performance days, fans’ feedback tends to flood in. Do you ever go online and check those “voices”?

Hanyu: Yes, I look, I do. I check out the impressions from fans who came to see the show. Especially for opening night, which is sort of like a media day, I’m curious about what kind of articles are written, what kind of “impressions” people had from watching it. That kind of thing definitely matters to me. But to be honest, while I’m actually performing the show, I really don’t have time to think about that. What’s foremost in my mind is, “Just get through one show safely.” Or rather, it’s more like, “Give everything I have until the very end.” That’s the strongest feeling.

— For the audience, that day’s show might be the only “Yuzuru Hanyu experience” they ever have in their life.

Hanyu: Yeah, I think about that all the time. Probably that’s because I was a “competitor.” There are competitions with the same name that happen over and over again, but each “such-and-such event in such-and-such year” only happens once in a lifetime. And the ultimate version of that, I think, is the “Olympics.”

Even if it's the same venue, you almost never get to skate there again in your career. So when I think about that, I always carry this image of, “This performance, in this moment, is once-in-a-lifetime.”

That way of thinking hasn’t changed, even now with ice shows. For the people watching in that moment, of course, it might be their one and only time. There are definitely people who have saved and saved money for years just to finally be able to come.

Lately, I’ve heard about middle schoolers who were finally able to save up their own “allowance” to watch a livestream or go to a live viewing for the first time. For people like that, it might be the first Yuzuru Hanyu they’ve ever seen, and it could also be the last Yuzuru Hanyu they ever see...

So yeah, I pour my soul into all of it. Whether it’s the opening performance or the final one, that feeling never changes. I always perform with the mindset: “This is the final performance.” “It’s always the last time.”

 

Figure skating doesn’t feel like a job, it feels like a kind of ‘extension’ of myself.

— “Profession: Yuzuru Hanyu” is a phrase used by Mansai Nomura, but what do you, Hanyu-san, think your own “profession” is?

Hanyu: The one thing I can say with pride more than anything is, well, skating. But, like... when it comes to calling skating a “job,”[仕事/ shigoto] [2], if you ask me whether I want to say that or not, I feel a little like “I don’t really want to call it that.” Of course, I do have the feeling that skating is my job, without a doubt, and I skate with pride. But at the same time, I also think: I don’t want to skate only within the “framework” of it being a job.

Like... how should I put this... At the root of it, I want to always like skating. But if it starts to feel purely like “I’m doing this because it’s my job,” then I feel like I might fall into a state where I lose that curiosity toward skating, that desire to improve... like that could all disappear. So I guess you could say that’s why I don’t really want to use that kind of word. I’d rather not end up with the equation “skating equals job.” I just really want to avoid that, as much as possible. It’s really all about the nuance of the words, though.

So when Mansai-san said “Profession: Yuzuru Hanyu,”[3] it really resonated with me. It made sense to me because it’s not just about skating. I work hard in all kinds of ways, absorb all kinds of things, compile and create various elements myself, and all of that, taken together, becomes the artistic creation that surrounds “figure skating: Yuzuru Hanyu.” That’s the kind of thing I’m aiming to create now that I’m active as a pro. So in that sense, it’s not something only focused on skating, it’s more like “Profession: Yuzuru Hanyu” is a comprehensive thing that includes many elements. But even with that said, as I’ve just mentioned, the very foundation, the very center of it all, without a doubt, is figure skating. I want to be “Yuzuru Hanyu, figure skater.”

— “Profession: Yuzuru Hanyu” and “Private Yuzuru Hanyu.” Is there a line dividing those two?

Hanyu: If I had to say whether there is or isn’t, I’d say... there is, but there also isn’t... maybe? (laughs) It’s a really fine line. Like I said earlier, the fact that I don’t want to call skating my job, or can’t fully bring myself to say that, it ties into this too. Because if I were to say clearly, “Skating is my job,” then in a way... how should I put it... that would be like drawing a line under it. There’s a fear that it would become skating “just for the job,” and that’s definitely something I feel inside.

So in that sense, it feels like skating is something like an extension [延長線上][4] of myself, “Yuzuru Hanyu”. It’s “nearly equal,” but I don’t feel like it’s a perfect equal sign [5].

 

Humans have used their imagination to connect their hearts. I think that's why we’ve been able to live.

— Especially with the ice story shows, there’s a sense of “leaving the conclusion of the story up to the audience.” Like, for instance, if someone watches Echoes of Life and writes their own interpretation of it in an essay, there may be times when, to you, Hanyu-san, you’re like, ‘No, that’s not quite what I meant…’ right?

Hanyu: Ah, no, that doesn’t happen. It doesn’t. It really doesn’t.

— Really?

Hanyu: Including “GIFT,” I’ve already written three works like this. And of course there are many different interpretations and analyses of each program. But basically, I don’t think “this is wrong” when I read them. It’s not like I’m just letting go of them, though. It’s not like, “Here’s my work, I’m done with it, now feel free to interpret however you like,” and just letting it fly away from me.

But words... or maybe especially words, they’re just tools to connect your thoughts or heart with someone else’s, right? In a way, I think of them as something like the “string”[6] in a tin can phone. You use words, and the “resonance” reaches the other person. In the same way, I think performances in “figure skating,” or the stories I write, also exist along that same line.

So... how do I say this... what gets through to the other person? The core of my actual “heart” [「心」kokoro] doesn’t ride along that string. It’s only the tool that travels along it. So the real feelings inside me, or the true scenery, or what I really want to express, those probably don’t get through just by using words. As long as I’m expressing through figure skating, I’ve kind of already made peace with that.

On the other hand, when we listen to different songs, read different lyrics, or articles, we don’t always get 100% of what the creator meant to convey. It’s not equal. It’s probably not 100% equal, maybe “nearly equal”[7] is the best we can get.

But because it’s “nearly equal,” how should I put this... that’s what makes it “fun.” That’s where different interpretations are born. And I think that’s how human “culture” came to be.

I do think mathematics is incredibly beautiful, but human activity, what can’t be expressed by formulas, arises precisely because of that “nearly equal,” because things don’t fully get across. We end up using imagination to bring our hearts closer to each other, or use our own experiences to find the answer. That’s probably why “we have been able to live as human beings.” And there’s something like a “god” inside me that tells me that.[8]

So that’s why, as someone who expresses things, I think there are all sorts of ways people can interpret what I do. And there’s basically nothing I’d ever say like, “I didn’t do this hoping for that interpretation.” If anything, if something does turn out like that, I feel like it’s probably because of my own lack of technique or inadequate words, like it’s on me.

 

I stand on the “artist” side. But my ambition is still that of an athlete.

— During the group interview after the Chiba performance, you said something like, “I don’t really feel lonely or anything... these days.” Does that mean you used to feel lonely?

Hanyu: Well, I mean… when it came to things like “expression,” [表現][9] or around the time I turned pro, or right before I made that decision, to be honest, I did feel like I didn’t have anyone to talk to about that kind of thing. Even after becoming a professional skater, when I found myself wondering, “What exactly is expression?” or “What kind of mindset should I bring to skating?” There were just these gaps in how we thought about things. It felt like those gaps, those differences in the level of emotional engagement, just couldn’t be bridged, no matter how much I tried. Things like how other skaters perceive “being a professional” or “expression”… To put it bluntly, I didn’t have anyone I truly looked up to in that way, inside my heart.

If I’m really honest about it, I kind of thought: “The usual ice shows felt bland.” [See footnote 10] There’s so much more I want to express. It’s not just about “my feelings toward skating.” There’s also daily life, my physical strength, and all sorts of things like that. And when I looked at those aspects, I realized that I was probably standing in a completely different place from the current generation of pro skaters, the level itself, and even the direction we were headed in, were fundamentally different. In that sense, no matter how much I did, I felt like I was going down a path that was never going to intersect with theirs. Even while performing in ice shows, I would sometimes feel that loneliness.

But now, like recently, I’ve had the chance to connect with truly amazing artists, like [actor] Mansai Nomura, [musician] Kenshi Yonezu, [musician/actor] Gen Hoshino… And in talking with them about expression, I came to feel again, “Ah, I’m one of them, I’m on this side.” I’ve also gotten to work with top-tier professionals on the production side of things, and through that, I’ve found people I could truly communicate with. People I could feel, “Wow, they’re creating something of this caliber!”, those kinds of companions. And in that sense, I stopped feeling lonely at all.

— You announced your decision to turn pro in July 2022. What’s something you didn’t realize three years ago?

Hanyu: I think I came to realize: “Ah, I’m someone who’s meant to be on the creation side of things.” Up until then, I had always been on the receiving end of choreography. I’d be given choreography, interpret it in various ways, and then figure out how to express it within the rules of competition, how to both express it well and rack up points. I was always strategizing how to strike that balance while competing.

So… I guess this kind of connects to the earlier discussion about “loneliness” but, the more I talked about how I think, about the way my mind works, and all of that, the more I realized that the people who resonated with me, who could really relate, were almost always artists, not athletes.

And lately I’ve come to realize: I was more of an artist-type person after all. Over these past three years, I’ve spent time reflecting, and I’ve come to feel that, at my core—what’s inside me—is fundamentally aligned with the artist side of things. That said, before these three years, I spent so many years dong skating, and I had always lived with the idea of “winning and losing”, so I've realized that as an athlete, I have a competitive spirit, or an appetite for this idea of winning and losing. So I’ve come to recognize that I do still carry that part of me too, that part that’s a true “athlete.” So, as a "hybrid," as both a professional skater and a pro athlete who is striving to perfect figure skating, I intend to remain a hybrid.

I don’t expect everything to be understood. “Nearly equal” is good enough for me.

— As a competitor, Yuzuru Hanyu didn’t really reveal much about his private life, did he? You were someone whose presence existed together with fans’ “imagination,” in a space shaped by limited information. In a way, that was part of your allure. But now that your role has shifted toward being an “artist,” I wonder if that makes you want your thoughts to be understood more clearly. What are your honest feelings about that?

Hanyu: Hmm. Well, just as an example, the fact that I didn’t really show much of my private life—during my competitive days—that was kind of a “strategy,” in a sense.

You know, right before the Olympics or something, no one would say, “This is the kind of training I’m doing privately,” right? You can’t go revealing your cards. I mean, I wanted to win. That’s just how it was. And to be honest, I didn’t think there was any need to reveal that stuff. Because I lived like that for so long, I don’t really have any feeling of “I want people to empathize with this.” I really don’t think that way.

But I do very much feel the presence of fans who get happy or feel emotional over small joys, or little struggles, or the things I’m working hard on in daily life. Nowadays, with things like “Menshipu” (Members-only channel) or YouTube, I have started to share a bit more about recent happenings and so on.

But at the root, I’m someone who wants to compete in figure skating. I put my heart out through figure skating. So when you ask, “Do I want everything to be understood?”, like I said before, “I’m okay with ‘nearly equal.’”

When I’m writing Ice Story, it’s not like I’m saying, “Everything I’m feeling is inside this.” Nor am I saying, “I want everything to be perfectly conveyed.” It’s not like that. It certainly feels that way.

 

NOTES

[1] 「“破綻”がないように」破綻 (はたん) = literally means “breakdown,” “collapse,” or “incoherence.” Used here metaphorically to mean no breakdowns, no inconsistencies, or no parts that fall apart in terms of the program’s structure, message, or quality.

[2] In general, 仕事 (shigoto) means: a task or occupation, something one does regularly to earn a living. Also, more broadly, a social role or duty. So it can cover everything from salaried office work, artistic or freelance work, domestic or caregiving work. In many contexts, “shigoto” can suggest something you do because it’s your responsibility, something that might involve obligation or routine, or something that is socially assigned, rather than self-chosen.

[3] 「職業・羽生結弦」/ Shokugyō: Hanyū Yuzuru. Literally: “Occupation: Yuzuru Hanyu.” The word 職業 in Japanese does mean “occupation” or “profession”, but it’s often used in a slightly more formal or categorical sense than "job" or even "career." It’s the term you’d put in official documents, like: Occupation: Teacher, Occupation: Actor. It refers not just to what one does, but what one is recognized as doing for a living. It implies a public or societal role, something that defines you within a system or structure. In 「職業・羽生結弦」, Yuzuru Hanyu is the occupation/ profession, his very existence, expression, and way of being has become a professional category of its own.

[4] 延長線上 / enchūsenjō literally translates as “Is on the extension line (of...)” or “Exists as an extension (along a line from...).” It can be used as "on the extension of," "in line with," or "as a continuation of". It often implies a natural progression or development from something else.

[5] 「ニアリーイコール」: Niarīikōru' is the Japanese pronunciation of “nearly equal.”

Fun fact: this sounds like a computer programmer’s logic (Yuzuru knows programming because of his major). In programming, “conditional expressions” allow a program to make decisions by executing different code blocks based on whether a condition is “true” or “false”.

[6] 糸（いと / ito）  thread or string. Also used metaphorically in Japanese to express human connections, invisible bonds, or even emotional tension. E.g. 赤い糸（あかいいと / akai ito) = “Red thread (of fate).”

[7] 「ニアリーイコール」: Niarīikōru' is the Japanese pronunciation of “nearly equal.”
Again is the programmer’s logic but here is like the programmer's logic is mixed with an artist’s sensibility: the space between two “values” not quite being the same opens up play, interpretation, human connection, etc.

[8] Interpretation note: here, Yuzuru uses the phrase 「僕の中の『神』みたいなもの」 ("something like a god inside me") to describe an inner, intuitive sense of truth or belief, not in the religious sense, but as a personal moral or spiritual compass. It may reflect a deeply felt conviction: that the imperfect, ambiguous, and interpretive nature of human communication and emotion is essential to being human. This “nearly equal but not quite” quality (ニアリーイコール) creates space for empathy, imagination, and cultural meaning, and his belief in that principle may feel so core to him that he likens it to a kind of internal “god.”

[9] 表現 (ひょうげん / hyōgen) "expression," "representation," or "presentation."

[10] “言ってみれば、「既存のアイスショーはつまんないな」と思っちゃった”, please note that straightforward “boring” is not the most ideal translation in context. This sentence is deliberately casual and softened by Yuzuru's choice of phrasing, especially “思っちゃった”, a casual/slightly self-deprecating form of “思ってしまった.” Both forms often express regret or unwillingness that a certain thought has come to mind. The meaning is something like “I ended up thinking” or “I kind of thought”. 思っちゃった makes it sound more like a spontaneous or reluctant confession rather than a firm critique. The format of existing/ traditional ice shows felt old and tired, or uninteresting. But that “つまんない” should be interpreted in context: it’s not an attack, but rather an expression of how that format didn’t fulfill or resonate with his own expressive needs or creative goals. 

 

 

[Wintek]

machine translation JAPANESE to ENGLISH, inaccuracies exist*

 

After Interviewing Yuzuru Hanyu: After Interviewing Yuzuru Hanyu: Imagination is Love

By Shinichi Yamaguchi / Photo by Ryosuke Menju

 

This issue marks the second individual interview with Hanyu Yuzuru, and this year's interview is about Hanyu's "way of perceiving the heart" and what he thinks is "human kindness."

 

Spoiler

When I asked him a particular question, Hanyu responded:
“Ah, no, not at all.”
 

 Then added:
“No. No, that’s not it.”

A triple denial combo.

Here’s what I had asked: When the audience watches an ice story, there are bound to be all kinds of interpretations. If there were 8,300 people at the venue in Funabashi, you could say, perhaps dramatically, that there were 8,300 different interpretations. And I wondered—since Hanyu is the one responsible for the entire production—wouldn’t he ever feel like saying, “That’s not what I meant”?

But the answer I got from Hanyu was completely different from what I’d expected. And in that moment, I felt like I got a glimpse into how his mind works.

“The real feelings I have inside, or the real scenery I want to convey, or the things I truly want to express, so long as I’m using words, so long as I’m expressing them through figure skating, I know they’ll never fully come across. I’ve already made peace with that.”

“But it’s because it’s ‘nearly equal’—how should I put it... that’s what makes it kind of fun, I think.”

This wasn’t resignation, it was the opposite. Rather than bemoaning the limits of human language, Hanyu was saying: precisely because words can’t convey everything, we’re free to imagine. And that freedom—that space—is part of what makes being human so enjoyable.

Until three years ago, Hanyu made a point of revealing almost nothing about his private life. That’s not unusual in amateur sports, and there was likely a strategic aspect to it as well.

What has changed since then is that Hanyu now agrees to individual interviews—even amid a packed schedule—something he rarely did in the past. But does that mean his private life is now an open book? Not really. Yuzuru Hanyu is still very much Yuzuru Hanyu, continuing to protect his personal boundaries.

“Precisely because I’ve lived my life this way for so long, I don’t really feel the need to say things like, ‘I want you to empathize with this.’”

“Basically, I want to speak through figure skating. It’s through figure skating that I reveal what’s inside me. And as I said earlier, it doesn’t have to get across completely, ‘nearly equal’ is enough.”

It’s because things are “nearly equal” that people are free to interpret. It’s because things don’t fully reach us that we use our imagination, and in doing so, become kinder.

In this interview, I saw clearly just how much care Hanyu puts into the act of “conveying.” And if there’s one thing that sets Yuzuru Hanyu apart from other artists, it’s this: he expresses himself while wearing “figure skating” on both feet.[1]

I have no real interest in Hanyu’s private life. What I’m curious about is how he navigates life as a person: “In this situation, how should a person respond?” Put another way, I too am fascinated by what it means “to live.”

I hope we’ll have the chance to talk again soon. There’s more I want to ask him.

 

NOTE:

[1] 両足に「フィギュアスケート」を履いている, literal: “Wearing figure skating on both feet.” It is used as a  metaphor: skating is not just something Yuzuru does, it’s literally what he wears, his foundation, the base through which he expresses everything. 

[Wintek]

machine translation JAPANESE to ENGLISH, inaccuracies exist*

“Young Yuzuru Hanyu” — One Year Later

April 16, 2025, Sendai City
Photos and Text by Ryosuke Menju (毛受亮介)

Spoiler

Just like last year, I went to Sendai for an interview project. Last time, I wanted to capture that “gentle presence” of Hanyu. And I think I managed to achieve that goal. I also posted about the trip there and back on social media, and I think the sense of excitement I felt at the time came through in the article as well.

This year’s theme was: to shoot “cool and stylish photos” of Hanyu, something that aligns with what readers love about him. With that scene in mind, I flew to Sendai again. On the day of the shoot, as always, Hanyu tried his best to respond to all our requests. Truly, he gave it his all, using every bit of the time we had together.

And yet, that day I found myself shooting with this nagging feeling as a photographer, something like, “What am I even doing?” I’ve lived my life photographing sports. What I was shooting that day was “Yuzuru Hanyu, the figure skater.” And yet, I couldn’t clearly hold that image in my mind.

Hanyu didn’t stay confined to the role of just a “sports athlete.” He tried to meet all of our creative asks. Precisely because he was responding with such care, I felt all the more that I was the one being tested, as a photographer. I realized: Ah, I’m still not there yet. Not even close.

To be honest, as I was taking pictures, I kept wondering, “What am I even capturing here?” I completely lost sight of myself. Even now, just thinking about it brings up feelings I don’t really want to remember.

I kept wondering if I was really cut out for this work. Frankly, I even thought, “Maybe I’m just not suited to being a photographer.” I don’t think I have particularly strong communication skills as a photographer. And in this field, there are plenty of people with far better photography skills than mine. That day I thought, “I’m not really either of those things.”

This might sound strange, but the editor Y-san at Magazine is someone I consider special (and I mean that in a purely professional way). There just aren’t that many people in this industry who are constantly thinking 24/7, “Let’s create something truly interesting.” That’s why I continue to work as a photographer for Magazine. And not just Y-san, both Hanyu and Magazine’s readers are special people to me.

I’ve written this before, but it was meeting Magazine’s readers that helped me realize something very important about being a photographer.

And yet, on this day, I couldn’t create the kind of atmosphere on set that would make me feel satisfied. I felt like I’d let Hanyu down. I’d let the team down. And most of all, I’d let the readers down. That’s genuinely how I felt.

Let me say again, I really do think Hanyu was incredibly considerate that day. Even so, I was shooting with a sense I’d never experienced before. I even found myself saying to my close friend, photographer Toru Yaguchi, “I think I’m quitting this job.” Honestly, even now, as I’m writing this draft, I feel pretty low.

Y-san said, “Wait, really? I didn’t think the photos from that day were all that bad…” But it wasn’t anyone else’s fault. That day, I just wasn’t good enough. I felt pathetic. Ashamed. Just remembering that day makes my chest tighten.

Y-san, as always, said his signature line: “Let’s make this as if it’s the last issue of the magazine.” But on that day, I came face to face with “the part of myself that isn’t enough.”

So now I wonder, how should I face Hanyu again, standing in front of my lens?

At this moment, I still don’t know how to read “what comes next.”

 

[Wintek]

machine translation JAPANESE to ENGLISH, inaccuracies exist*

ICE STORY 3rd Echoes of Life Saitama Performance

December 7, 2024 – Saitama Super Arena

“Always, ‘I love you.’”

This time, the theme is “What does it mean to live?” Looking back, even in last year’s “RE_PRAY” Ice Story, the theme was “How do you live a life that can only be lived once?”  For Yuzuru Hanyu, the contemplation of life seems to be an eternal theme rooted in his human nature. What became clear on the opening day of the show was Hanyu’s intent: “I want it to be a performance that allows for philosophy.”
As each scene is deeply felt, we—the viewers—are invited to search for our own “answers” alongside him.

Text: Shinichi Yamaguchi ; Photos: Ryosuke Menju

 

 

Spoiler

Yuzuru Hanyu, playing the protagonist “Nova,” walks across a desolate wasteland.

There are a few buildings in the cityscape, but the structures are decayed, and there is no sign of human life. It feels as though there is only one person left in the world, Nova just continues to walk forward.

The act of living is presented in a landscape that can, at times, feel utterly devoid of flavor or meaning. That starkness, that harsh primary color... it's not that things were always like this. But perhaps, the sense that “to live is to be lonely”—that kind of day—has indeed existed in Hanyu’s life so far.

There have probably been three inescapable events in Yuzuru Hanyu’s life to date. That’s the strong impression one gets.

The first was the Great East Japan Earthquake on March 11, 2011.

“Even now, I still think that nothing has ever been sadder than that. There’s been nothing more painful, nothing sadder, nothing more inconvenient... That’s why, even during tough times, painful times, it gives me something to hold on to. I really feel that because that happened, I’m here now. And even now, I can still recall it clearly.” (August 8, 2017, Toronto, Canada – Media Day)

For those who experienced the disaster, those memories still remain today. If that earthquake hadn’t happened, there are surely things that would have stayed unchanged. The experience of facing that disaster, in whatever form it may take, will continue to remain for the people of Tohoku.

The second was his days confronting the quadruple Axel. This is something no one else has “experienced.” Even after winning two gold medals in Sochi and PyeongChang, the days leading up to Beijing, and the events that unfolded during the Games, exist as “heavy events” in Hanyu’s life.

And if there’s a third (though this may be my personal interpretation), it would be the online bashing that has occurred in recent years. Back in 2017 during Media Day, when he spoke about the earthquake, such bashing was something unimaginable. But now, it feels as though that kind of criticism tore at Hanyu’s chest, like someone grabbing his living organs with bare hands.

Let’s return to the show.

The “Room Guide”, a second character who engages in inner dialogue with the protagonist, says to Nova:

“You must accept the fact that you are you.”

There is a scene where Nova is torn apart from a woman.

“Because of me… it all began…?”
“I’m someone who never should’ve been born. After all, I’ll just die someday anyway.”

As Nova is consumed by this self-blame, a scene of flames plays across the screen. Nova appears to have lost sight of the meaning of living.

But the Guide also says:

“Please read the words that are gently held in your hands.”

Written in the palm of Nova’s hand are the words:

“I love you.”
Not “I loved you,” but still now, “I love you.”

Those words become “sound”, and the realization that he is not alone becomes salvation. Nova continues to live in the present.

If one maps this onto Hanyu’s own life: There was the earthquake that struck Tohoku, and even now, there are people he has had to part with. That is certainly the past, but the feeling of “I love you” remains unchanged. And from that, a new future surely begins.

Even when life may feel flavorless at times, by holding onto the feeling of “I love you,” Nova is able to feel a kind of freedom in living. That’s why, in the ending of the story, didn’t he show such a radiant expression?

Nova, who had no choice but to keep climbing an endless spiral. Even so, the words “I love you” became his support, and with that, he clears one “door” in life after another.

“I love you.”

That felt like a phrase that would live on eternally, not just for Nova, but for Yuzuru Hanyu himself. It felt like both a blessing for having been born into this world, and a declaration of resolve.

“In this timeline where I exist,
even though there have been terribly painful and terribly sad things,
I want to do my best, with all I have, to be here now.
So that in this world where destiny is already decided,
I can welcome that destiny with the brightest smile.
With a beautiful face, I want to meet it.”

 

“I really hope people can experience unexpected things or things that feel like miracles in their lives.”

After the December 7 performance, a “kawami (side-of-the-river) press conference” was held with the journalists. The details are as follows:

Moderator: Thank you for waiting.

Hanyu: Thank you!

—— On behalf of everyone, may I ask the first question?

Hanyu: Yes.

—— Great job today.

Hanyu: Thank you very much!

—— Today was the opening day of the show, and it went off without a hitch. Can you tell us honestly how you're feeling right now?

Hanyu: I think the strongest feeling I have is, “It’s finally started.” I was really, really nervous. Of course, I’ve spent so much time every day training and rehearsing, but once it came time for the actual performance—until I got out there in front of everyone—I didn’t know whether it would be a “success” or a “failure.” So honestly, I just feel like, “It’s finally begun.” And more than anything, I’m glad I was able to complete the story safely, without injury, on this opening day.

—— One of the themes of this ice story is ‘to live’ or ‘living,’ I believe. Could you talk again about the thoughts or intentions behind that?

Hanyu: From a young age, I’ve often thought about things like “bioethics,” and then I also studied them at university. Through that, I became deeply interested in the philosophy of what it means “to live.”

So, I went back to the thoughts and theories that had been spinning around in my head for so long, and I started studying them again. And especially because of the times we’re living in now, I wanted this show to be one where each person could come to their own answer about what “living” means, where you could reflect and explore that philosophically. That’s how I came to create Echoes of Life.

—— Also, happy birthday once again.

Hanyu: Thank you! (laughs)

—— Many fans sang “Happy Birthday” to you, and there were so many banners. What was it like to turn 30 in the midst of that kind of scene?

Hanyu: I was thinking, “So I’m turning 30, huh?” (laughs) And now, hearing the words “You’re 30,” I thought, “Ahh, I really am 30 now,” but… compared to what I imagined being in my 30s would feel like when I was a kid, the way I feel in this body and my mental state now is completely different from what I expected. I honestly feel like, “I’ve still got plenty left in me.”

In Echoes, there were parts that asked, “What is the future?” or “What is the past?” Right? But really, the future can be so much better than what we imagine. And I think… yeah, by doing our best in the present moment, I’ve been able to enter my 30s in a way that’s very different from when I used to think, “30 is old” back then.

—— Finally, can we ask you to share your goals or aspirations for your 30s?

Hanyu: Honestly… I always had this vague idea that as a “figure skating age,” things would start to deteriorate from here. But if I think about it in terms of sports like baseball or soccer, this is actually the time when experience, your senses, and your technical ability really come into their prime.

So I really want to hold onto hope for my own future, and always keep the feeling that I will seize every opportunity. Whether it’s practice, training, or performance, I want to approach it all with that mindset.

—— Thank you very much.

Hanyu: Thank you very much.

Moderator: Any questions from the press? Well then…

Hanyu: All right then… (laughs)

—— Words turning into sound...

Hanyu: Yes, yes.

—— And almost being swayed by the sound itself… What does that feel like for you?

Hanyu: Well, originally, I’ve always had this kind of perception where scenes—like colors—would turn into sounds or become emotions. For example, when you think of the color red, some people might associate it with “passion,” while others might feel “fear.” Interpretations differ from person to person, but for me, that kind of sensation has always felt quite natural since I was small.

It’s not like I have perfect pitch or anything like that. It’s more like I can vaguely hear things as melodies. So when I was creating this story, and thinking, “What kind of ability should I give this character?” I ended up incorporating the kinds of training I do myself—intonation, the meaning of words, how to express those things—and embedded that into the narrative. I imagined it like philosophy becoming sound and entering the body. Then that philosophy becomes music, and from there, the program takes shape… It was a story that came together through those kinds of imaginative leaps.

—— In today’s story, there were so many words that made people want to write them down. I know it’s hard to pick just one, but could you choose a quote and tell us about the feelings behind it?

Hanyu: Hmm… I wove in so many philosophical elements about life itself, revisiting books written by professors whose classes I took in university… One idea that really struck me was how “fate” is a chain of coincidences. That’s something I learned while reading different philosophical texts.

It’s such a fragile thing—fate. You wonder, “How did all these coincidences string together like this?” I believe each person probably has their own version of that. Whether it’s when looking back on life, or feeling it in real-time now, I hope people can feel things like: “Wow, I encountered something so rare—such a chance event,” or, “This feels like a miracle.” That joy, that kind of miraculous moment—I really hope people can feel that. That’s one of the passages I wrote with those thoughts in mind.

 

“Since the theme was ‘philosophy,’ I chose music that gives a sense of clarity and stillness.”

 

—— You were portraying a story that you yourself had written, so in that sense, you must’ve felt that you had to be the one to perform it.

Hanyu: Yes, absolutely.

—— I think there were many new costumes for this show as well.

Hanyu: Yes, yes.

—— What are your thoughts on the costumes for the Ice Story series in general?

Hanyu: Yes, yes.

—— And among all the costumes in this show, which one were you most emotionally attached to?

Hanyu: Hmm… (laughs) I think it would have to be the Nova costume. I had never worn something that was more like a real fashion outfit while skating before, so to be honest, performing in something that could be worn in everyday fashion was quite difficult on the ice. But I definitely feel a strong attachment to Nova’s outfit as the protagonist.

Also, this time, we had not only people who’ve long been involved in figure skating, but also people who had never made figure skating costumes before. They took part too, and we went through many rounds of adjustments and redesigns. There are lots of costumes that were made with great effort.

Of course, this Ice Story is different in tone from RE_PRAY, GIFT, or Prologue. I think you’ll see outfits that aren’t typical “figure skating” costumes, the feel of the fabric, for example. Those are things I hope people can really experience in Echoes.

—— I believe you also used film-like visuals in this production.

Hanyu: Yes, yes.

—— How long did the filming take?

Hanyu: Umm… (laughs). Yes, yes.

—— And did you originally want to try acting?

Hanyu: Oh, I see. Let me start with that last question. Actually, I’ve appeared in a film once before, and I did a bit of acting there. But at that time, I honestly felt, “Yeah, I’m really not suited for this.” (laughs)

I don’t have any particular desire to be in movies or anything like that. But when it came to performing as Nova, the main character I created, I didn’t feel any discomfort at all with the idea of acting. Because this was a story I had written myself, and the protagonist is someone I could completely inhabit, I naturally felt like, “I have to be the one to perform this.”

As for the filming itself… umm… hehehe… it took about two full days, maybe three in total. We did two full days, then another half day, and then had to do it all again on a separate day. Plus, I had to record the narration, so there was time spent on that as well. (laughs)

Moderator: We’ll take one final question now.

—— I’d like to ask about the music.

Hanyu: Yes.

—— Today’s performance incorporated classical, folk, and modern music. I felt it all came together like pieces of a puzzle to form one coherent work.

Hanyu: Thank you very much.

—— Could you tell us about your approach to selecting music and how you focused on expression?

Hanyu: Well, with RE_PRAY, it leaned a bit toward a “game-like” feel, so even while creating new programs, I had this desire to go back and do more classical pieces. And since the theme this time was “philosophy,” I wanted to use piano melodies and pieces that would bring a sense of mental clarity or calm.

So I selected a lot of those kinds of songs. While developing the story, I’d think things like, “This is a place I want to show struggle,” or “This is where I need to have inner strength,” or “Here, I want to let the words speak for themselves.” Based on those ideas, I carefully chose each piece.

The part I struggled with the most… it’s the fifth one, I think. The fifth program, there’s a stretch of classical piano music set in the mountains, and from there it moves into a ballad. That section was something I’d never done before, there’s no time to exit the stage, and I had to keep performing back-to-back every 30 seconds or so. It was intense.

I worked with [pianist] Shinya Kiyozuka to study classical music and understand the meaning behind each note. I also asked Jeffrey Buttle to choreograph that section, and the two of us worked very closely—really calculating everything—to bring it to life. It turned into a program that runs over ten minutes, and we poured so much into it.

Moderator: Apologies, but we are out of time. That concludes the press conference.

Hanyu: Thank you very much. Thank you all so much. I truly appreciate it.

—— Today, we got to see a different kind of “Danny Boy” from you.

Hanyu: That’s true! There were even battle scenes, so Danny really shined today. Thank you so much. I look forward to seeing you again.

Thank you for spending so much time here today. Hehehe. See you next time. Thank you!

 

[Wintek]

*machine translation JAPANESE to ENGLISH, inaccuracies exist*

PHOTO STORY

Yuzuru Hanyu  +  SKATE & JOURNEY

“It was dark. But I accepted that.”
December 7, 2024. Saitama Super Arena
Photos & Text: Ryosuke Menju

 

Spoiler

Yuzuru Hanyu’s ice story has now entered its third year. I’m usually based at our company’s Osaka bureau and mostly cover sports in the Kansai region, so when it comes to covering Hanyu, I often find myself traveling out to Kanto or Tohoku. Even though the start of the season was later than usual this year, I still got on the bullet train thinking, “At last, figure skating season has arrived!” and headed to the futuristic city of Saitama Shintoshin, which I’ve always admired. (To Y-san from our editorial team, who loves Saitama, did I do it justice? laughs)

December 7, 2024. It was Hanyu’s 30th birthday, and in a way, it also marked the opening day of the 2024–2025 season. The main character of the story prays, “I want you to live.” It was an “Ice Story” distinct from last year’s “RE_PRAY.”

The first half of the story felt heavy and dark. I think there were many scenes like that.

“I was a person who never needed to be born. After all, I’ll die someday anyway.”

That line really stood out. But Hanyu delivered that “darkness” without any artifice or pretense. He faced the despair that prays silently in the heart, looked it straight in the eye, pushed through it, and eventually passed through a “window” of life.

What does it mean to “keep living”? To some degree or another, that’s something most boys struggle with in their youth. (I’m definitely not saying girls don’t struggle too!) Honestly, I was like that 30 years ago.

But whether or not you can say that out loud to someone... Back then, embarrassment always won out for me, and I couldn’t put those feelings into words. But Hanyu—who was born on December 7, just like me—was different. Not only did he confess it to others, he turned it into an ice show.

People wrestle with things, even if just a little—and Hanyu Yuzuru is the kind of person who doesn’t hide that.

He deliberately showed his struggling self to others. From the perspective of someone who used to be a young man 30 years ago, I thought that was truly admirable. In a sense, he was embodying “what it means to live.”

As the conductor[1] of the ice show, Hanyu envisions the production and carries out the staging. With only his own body, he embodies it over the course of two and a half hours. I still haven’t forgotten the shock I felt at the Tokyo Dome two years ago. I felt that same impact again in December 2024 at Saitama Super Arena—and this time, I also sensed even more depth in it.

For this show, we were allotted five photos to run in the magazine. Y-san said, “Only five, huh… Maybe we should choose brighter photos, thinking of the readers.” I remember that shooting the darker scenes at the venue was, honestly, pretty tough from a photographer’s standpoint too.

But if Hanyu intended for it to be that dark, then as a photographer, I felt I had to choose photos that embraced that darkness. Something that emerges from within that darkness. I felt that Hanyu had calculated that effect.

In fact, the morning newspapers that reported on the show mostly published brighter photos. Among them, only two photographers deliberately chose darker ones.

And I thought to myself:

“This show deserves darker photos. In the darkness, a faint light glimmers. That’s what we’re supposed to depict. And as viewers, we should be willing to accept that darkness too.”

There were photographers at the venue saying, “Man, it’s really dark,” as they shot. But I felt that, in this Ice Story, that darkness was Hanyu’s own kind of proposal—something he was offering intentionally.

As a photographer, I have to face that properly. I still don’t say these things out loud—just like I didn’t 30 years ago—but I know this much: That’s exactly what I felt.

NOTE

[1] 指揮者 (shikisha) literally means “conductor”, as in the conductor of an orchestra. However, in this context, it functions metaphorically to describe how Yuzuru oversees and unifies the whole production.