Contents

[translation finished]

 

The Professional Pride.

The name of the story is “Yuzuru Hanyu.”

 

Yuzuru Hanyu

Column at the Beginning of the Issue: In “Beijing,” 2022.

 

Long Interview

“Four years ago, by the time I was in Beijing,

I think I was a professional (already)."

 

Afterword to the Interview

As the protagonist of the “story.”

 

Four years since Beijing. The meaning of “Yuzuru Hanyu’s 9 musical pieces/songs.”

 

Part 1 REALIVE

 

Sound, words, and skating.

Yuzuru Hanyu’s “Real Live.”

 

Part 2 PREQUEL Before the WHITE

 

PHOTO STORY

Yuzuru Hanyu SKATE & JOURNEY

Strong winds, and firm memories.

 

Photographers’ Talk — Toru Yaguchi / Ryosuke Menju

“This IS Yuzuru Hanyu.”

One photograph that made us nod emphatically at rinkside.

 

“SKATE & JOURNEY,” along the way.

 

notte stellata 2026

To the “youth” of Tohoku, and then to its “future.”

 

Tohoku Youth Orchestra

A collaboration between

“young people who love music”

and “a big brother who is good at skating.”

 

Reporters’ Roundtable Discussion

A beautiful silhouette that emerged

through maintenance.

“I came back powered up.” Hanyu-san showed that through various elements.

 

---

Full translation also available here

More information

https://www.bbm-japan.com/article/detail/72932

 

Available on Amazon Japan 

https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/4583628951?tag=fieldlogos-22 

*machine translation, inaccuracies may exist*

(JP>CH>EN)

Source: https://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309405338139459190915

Exclusive Interview with Yuzuru Hanyu

Spoiler

When I left my hometown in 2012, I struggled with the question, "Is this really a good idea?"

— Since you kindly helped me with the interview for the children’s book New Generation Sports Superstars, Season 2, Vol. 3 last year, I believe this is the first time we’ve spoken again for an interview. Thank you so much for that.

Hanyu: Not at all. I should be the one thanking you.

— This year marks 15 years since the Great East Japan Earthquake. As I’ve continued interviewing you about your journey all the way up to now, I’ve increasingly come to feel, “You really are a person from Tohoku, after all.”

Hanyu: To be honest, if someone said to me, “You really are a Tohoku person,” that would just feel completely natural to me… So even if someone says, “You really do seem like a Tohoku person,” I’m not actually sure what they mean by that…

— You were born in Tohoku, and you also grew up in Tohoku. Personally, I feel that perhaps you cannot escape this kind of “fate.” For example, when you moved your training base to Toronto, when you answered questions from the press after winning in Sochi, and even now, in your various feelings toward notte stellata, it seems to be the same. Whenever such moments come, you have to face and accept the fact that you are a “person from Tohoku.” Once again, I felt this very strongly.

Hanyu: (When I moved to Toronto in 2012) At that time, honestly, part of the conflict I felt was because it was also the first time in my life that I was truly leaving my hometown. And in terms of the timing, it had only been one year since the disaster. But at the same time, it was also something I needed to do in order to continue improving myself.

In 2012, I finished third at the World Championships in Nice. After that, I realized that if I truly wanted to establish myself among the very best in the world, then, honestly, my training environment at that point was not enough. It was on that basis that I made up my mind to go overseas, to Toronto. If the disaster had not happened, I think that since this choice was necessary for me to continue improving myself and to compete against the world at an even higher level in the future, leaving Sendai would probably have been something I felt “very reluctant” about, but ultimately I would have thought, “Well, I have to go.”

But at that point, it had only been a year since the disaster. In the inland areas of Miyagi Prefecture, things like fallen utility poles and traffic signals had already been repaired, and infrastructure such as water pipes had also been restored. Unlike Noto, where people are still facing extremely difficult circumstances even now (following the Noto Peninsula Earthquake in January 2024), there actually weren’t that many areas where infrastructure was still disrupted at that time. So, in terms of everyday life, there weren’t necessarily that many things that made life feel particularly difficult.

Of course, it also depends on what exactly I regard as my “hometown”—whether that means “Miyagi Prefecture,” “Sendai City,” or Tohoku as a whole. But in reality, there were still people who were suffering at that time. Under those circumstances, I was going to leave my hometown on the grounds that I was “seeking a better training environment.” I really did struggle with the motivation itself, wondering, “Is this really okay?”

Looking back now, I feel once again that if the earthquake hadn’t happened, maybe I would simply have felt, “It’s hard to leave my hometown,” and that would have been the extent of it.

Carrying Ryuichi Sakamoto’s “soul of music,” along with his own emotions, scars, and struggles.

— This year, the musicians performing with you in notte stellata are the Tohoku Youth Symphony Orchestra. They are active in the Tohoku region, and they are also, in a sense, your juniors, since they are all younger than you. notte stellata has now reached its fourth year. Do you feel that, through this collaboration, the show is entering a new stage?

Hanyu: I don’t really feel that “I have to be the one to lead them.” Honestly, every one of them is already a “professional,” in every sense of the word. There’s no doubt that they’ve all been working hard and practicing seriously so they can perform there.

If anything, back when we ourselves were still at the stage where we regarded various ice shows as a gateway to greater opportunities, as a way of getting opportunities to perform, we actually had plenty of areas where we weren’t very professional ourselves (laughs). I’ve experienced that firsthand through watching many other skaters, too. So if anything, those kids from the Tohoku Youth Symphony Orchestra are even more professional. They make me think, “Ah, I can trust them with this. They’ll be fine.” And actually, it’s not just members of the Tohoku Youth Symphony Orchestra. A few members of the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra are also taking part, so in that sense, the performance as a whole is very complete and solid.

Of course, before I actually arrived at the venue, I had received demos and rehearsal recordings from them. Some of those weren’t recorded in ideal recording conditions, so honestly, I did wonder, “I wonder how this is ultimately going to turn out?” But once we actually worked together, what I felt much more strongly was, “Ah, as expected, they’re really professional.” It gave me a real sense of reassurance. So when we actually worked together, I approached it with the trust that, “No matter what I ask of them, they’ll be able to handle it.”

Also, I imagine that not everyone among them joined during the period when Ryuichi Sakamoto was still involved with the Tohoku Youth Symphony Orchestra. But through the process of creating this work together, honestly, I could feel that they are a group of young people whom Mr. Sakamoto could entrust with his “soul of music,” with his “feelings toward music.”

— I was especially struck by your performance of Happy End. It begins with you lying on your back on the ice, and the protagonist seems to summon all their strength just to finally manage to get back on their feet. The first expression that appears on your face is one of “pain,” and then, even while clutching your head, you go on to perform an astonishing number of spins. Mr. Sakamoto, despite suffering from illness and pain, remained together with the Tohoku Youth Symphony Orchestra until the very end, so at the time, I felt that perhaps this performance was based on Mr. Sakamoto himself.

Hanyu: Everyone will have their own interpretation, and I think that’s perfectly fine. As for this program, I actually don’t really want to explain in detail, saying, “I was trying to express this particular thing.” Mr. Ryuichi Sakamoto deliberately gave a song like this—such a dark song, and one that was originally a work with a strong sense of noise—the title Happy End. I think the very fact that he deliberately called such a dark song Happy End has meaning in itself, and this song was probably also created in a certain kind of state of mind…

“Why did he choose to call such a dark song Happy End? What kind of mental state was he in at the time? What was he feeling? What condition was his body in? And what did the world around him look like through his eyes?”

As I thought about those things, I also thought about the fact that I would be performing it at notte stellata, a show that carries wishes for the recovery and reconstruction of the areas affected by the disaster. And I would be performing it together with the Tohoku Youth Symphony Orchestra, a group of people who have deep ties to the disaster and who also have a deep connection with Mr. Sakamoto. Taking all of that into consideration, I felt that I still had to express those emotions that had emerged from the disaster.

In this performance, I don’t think what I was trying to convey was limited to things that were simply my own personal “pain,” “sadness,” or perhaps “distrust of other people.” I also poured into the performance the “emotions,” the “scars,” and all the various “struggles” that the disaster had left within me.

"The show can’t happen without me. So no matter how much it hurts, I’ll take responsibility and see it through."

—I feel that in notte stellata, you were rather restrained in how much jumping you included. Is that because…?

Hanyu: In January this year, I suffered a fairly serious sprain, and after that, my ankle just wouldn’t recover properly. Because it was still swollen, I could only force my foot into the skate, somehow tighten the laces and secure it, and then continue skating. Because the swelling persisted, I also developed some pretty severe abrasions, and there were issues with the bone itself as well. Basically, all sorts of problems came up. For quite a long time, I couldn’t even put my skates on. I had painkilling injections and tried all kinds of treatments, but nothing was going particularly well. During that period, I was basically taking painkillers all the time, trying to push through the pain and keep going… That was more or less where I was.

— I see. For a performer whose own name is the name on the show, I imagine that sometimes it’s difficult even when you want to take a break. After all, people see the name “Yuzuru Hanyu,” and that’s why they scramble to get tickets, book Shinkansen trains, flights, and hotels, and make their way all the way to the venue. And right up until the day of the show, people keep counting down the days until the performance. I think that is also precisely the value of putting on a show under the name “Yuzuru Hanyu.”

Hanyu: I think that’s what it means to have a show named after yourself. Especially with a solo ice show, if I myself am not there, then nothing can really come together. So once again, I felt that I had to take responsibility for it myself. No matter how much it hurt, no matter what happened, I had to perform.

But the training itself was also very difficult, because just putting on the skates was already quite painful, and I couldn’t even tighten the laces properly. On top of that, I’ve had a lot of ankle sprains in the past, and my ligaments are rather loose, so I tape them every day as a preventative measure. But the tape itself can irritate my skin.

I tried all sorts of things, but even so, at most I could only train on the ice for about 15 minutes a day. Under those conditions, practicing jumps was certainly difficult. And at the same time, I also had to choreograph the programs. This time, there were also a lot of new programs, and I had to keep going on the ice to work through and get used to both of them. While thinking, “This really is difficult,” I did as much training as I could off the ice, worked on building up my physical strength, and tried to gradually get my body back into shape. Basically, that’s what I was doing throughout that period.

— So, when you came to notte stellata while still carrying that injury, was there anything you kept telling yourself to keep yourself going?

Hanyu: Not really, nothing in particular. Of course, I was very nervous. After all, I myself felt that I hadn’t been able to train enough. But because I had already done everything I could do, there wasn’t really anything in particular I needed to tell myself to psych myself up or get myself into the right state of mind.

I get nervous before every performance anyway. Every time, I get extremely nervous and anxious because I don’t know whether I’ll actually be able to give everyone a good performance. So in that sense, I suppose it wasn’t all that different from usual. Because, in the end, no matter how much it hurts, I’m going to perform.

— Then, what was your foot injury like during the period of REALIVE and PREQUEL, a month later? Had your condition improved?

Hanyu: Eventually, a certain treatment happened to work for me. It was also an injection-based treatment. After that, although it really was only little by little, I finally started being able to gradually increase my training time. And from there, I just took things slowly. That was more or less how it went.

But if you ask whether that amount of training could really be considered the kind of training I should have done before a solo show, it was nowhere near enough. Compared with the previous few ICE STORY productions, I hadn’t even established the most basic level of physical condition at that point. To be honest, I really did want to train more, but in the end, I somehow managed to make it in time.

The frustration Beijing left me with has still not disappeared. But I also possess a value that goes beyond it.

— This year is an Olympic year, but you also have a show to prepare for in the spring. Have you basically had no time to pay attention to the Olympics?

Hanyu: I actually watched quite a bit.

— You started skating at four, and by the age of five, you already said yourself, “I want to win the Olympics.” Since then, this is the first time you’ve watched the Olympics as someone who isn’t a competitor. What did you feel?

Hanyu: Although it’s in the past now, I suppose you could say the Olympics were the high point of my life. Because back then, I was living for them.

— There’s no question that winning a gold medal is an incredible achievement. But you’re only 31 now, and you still have the rest of your life ahead of you. Do you also look forward to other high points, different from that one, waiting for you in the future?

Hanyu: When you pour so much of yourself into one thing, when everyone gives it everything they have and works together to achieve something—it’s not simply about putting on a great performance. You’re also left with something like “physical evidence.” In this case, that’s the gold medal. It becomes proof that you won.

No matter how great a performance you give, no matter how outstanding a work you create, you don’t leave behind that kind of “physical evidence,” do you? Although you may perhaps leave behind “evaluations.” So in that sense, winning at the Olympics was something very special to me. I think I really did live for it. Although that’s already in the past.

My life now is very fulfilling, and I’m doing what I feel I should be doing at this stage of my life. But I still feel that the Olympics were the high point of my life as “Yuzuru Hanyu.” Because I really did live for them. From the age of four onward, that goal was what I lived for. So I don’t think there will ever be anything beyond that.

— Then what about the Beijing Winter Olympics four years ago, in 2022? Do you still watch footage from that time?

Hanyu: I probably wouldn’t deliberately watch it. Sometimes I happen to see the official Olympics account posting footage from back then on Twitter or somewhere like that… That does happen, but I don’t specifically seek it out myself.

— When I interviewed you for that children’s book a year ago, I remember you shedding tears. Those four years leading up to 2022, and everything that happened in Beijing… It’s all in the past now, but even today, looking back on it can still bring you to tears. I suppose those memories are etched that vividly in you.

Hanyu: Because at the time, I was putting my life on the line for it. People often casually call something like that “youth,” but for me, it wasn’t “youth.” It was more like “the culmination of my life.”

I was deeply frustrated that I couldn’t win there. I was deeply frustrated that I couldn’t complete that jump. I was still deeply frustrated that I injured my foot during the official practice. And in the short program, I never imagined that something like that would happen at all. Honestly, all that competition left me with was that feeling of “frustration.”

But at the time, because we were under the closed-loop system for COVID-19 measures, there weren’t many spectators at the venue. There were some volunteers, other skaters, and people involved with the event, but that was about it. It wasn’t like PyeongChang, where we were surrounded by that intense enthusiasm. So, how should I put it… On the one hand, precisely because of that, I felt that “emptiness” even more deeply, as well as all the things I hadn’t been able to accomplish. But on the other hand, even at a competition like that, there were still people in the venue cheering for me in very loud voices, and there were also people supporting me with incredible passion. It was also a competition that made me truly feel those things again.

That frustration still hasn’t gone away. But if you ask whether I still have any lingering attachment to it, then definitely not. I don’t regret it, and I don’t have any lingering attachment to it either… It’s just that when something is frustrating, it remains frustrating. Because in the end, I wasn’t able to achieve a better result there.

But, how should I put it… That same competition also made me realize that, even beyond all of that, I had another kind of value as a person. In that sense, perhaps it was the competition that led me toward becoming a professional. Or you could even say that I became a “professional athlete” from that point on.

“If, regardless of whether or not I succeed on the jump, there are people who are willing to find value in ‘Yuzuru Hanyu’s performance itself,’ then I can continue forward as a professional athlete.”

That was the first time I felt that way.

“Even when it’s painful, everyone is still fighting. Because ‘being alive’ is inherently painful.”

— Looking back at the 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics, the competition itself was certainly memorable, but the official practice for the exhibition gala on February 18 is also a scene I still can’t forget. On the “second rink” at the Capital Indoor Stadium, the main venue, you skated nine of your past programs one after another in front of members of the media from all over.

Hanyu: It was like a flashback reel. A flashback reel. I was looking back over everything I had once left on the ice, thinking things like, “I skate better now than I did back then,” “This is the competitive career I’ve had as a skater,” and, “Even though I never did manage to land that Axel in the end…” Things like that.

And there were really so many members of the media following me around at the time. Honestly, even I thought, “The competition is already over, so what’s there to film at practice before the exhibition gala?” and “Even if they film it, it’s hardly newsworthy, is it?” But even so, all the members of the media still came to watch.

Of course, there were some media outlets that didn’t have the best intentions. But at the same time, there were many people in the media who had been with me and fighting alongside me throughout my career. Photographers, reporters, directors… For those people, I remember thinking, “I really want to show them the flashback reel of Yuzuru Hanyu’s competitive career.” I really wanted to do it for the people who had spent all those years photographing me, watching me, and supporting me. That feeling was especially strong.

— Looking back at Beijing now, I feel that, for some reason, you always seem to find yourself in one difficult situation after another, yet every time, you manage to show something beyond what people could have imagined. You could even say that you go beyond what people are capable of imagining.

Hanyu: No, not at all. Isn’t everyone like that? Even when they’re suffering, they keep fighting. “Being alive” itself is a painful thing. Everyone endures pain in order to “keep living.”

Think about when we were Jōmon people, or even further back in the Paleolithic era. Just to get enough nourishment and stay alive, people had to do all kinds of things. If you were a hunting people, you had to run desperately after your prey. Everyone works hard, don’t they? Just to stay alive. Even if you managed to obtain food with great difficulty, hunger would come again after some time. Sometimes, the food you obtained might not even be enough to give to your own children. Then, as a parent, you would have no choice but to watch your child gradually die. Isn’t that an incredibly painful thing?

When hunting, if a person was unable to contribute as an effective laborer, sometimes even their children might not be able to receive food. But those in positions of leadership would certainly be given food. I think that’s actually no different from society today. Things like “priorities” simply exist in reality, whether between people or within society. So, “being alive” is inherently painful.

A lot happened in Beijing—my injury, not being able to land the 4A there. But actually, I’d been living this way long before Beijing. I was constantly getting injured, and even while dealing with those injuries, I kept pushing myself because I wanted to win. Even when I was forcing myself, I still wanted to live up to the expectations of the people who supported me.

notte stellata, which I’ve been struggling with injuries for since the beginning of this year, was the same. REALIVE was the same. PREQUEL was the same. In the end, nothing has really changed. It’s not that things were somehow especially different just because it was Beijing. If you put it that way, then you’d have to ask, “What about Nice?” Because for me, Nice was actually even more painful mentally. I’ve always continued on like this, suffering through things, all the way to where I am today. I didn’t run away from those hardships. Instead, I turned them into nourishment and kept fighting my way forward until now.

A work exists in order to convey something to others. It isn’t created for oneself.

— The April shows consisted of REALIVE and PREQUEL, while the fourth installment of Ice Story, WHITE…, takes place after PREQUEL. At the April 11 performance, you said, “I understand that this is probably a story that isn’t very easy to understand at first glance…” You also said, “Of course, I’d love to know how everyone interpreted it and what they felt, but I think whatever each person genuinely feels is what matters.”

Hanyu: Because I’ve never skated for myself in the first place. I’ve always created with the thought that “I hope I can convey something to other people.” Of course, when I’m creating something, I also look inward and dig deeply into myself. I also dig deeply into everything around me, think about all kinds of things, and think about the world, the society, and so on… But fundamentally, my skating, and my performances, exist in order to “convey something to others.” So I don’t create a work while thinking only about myself.

— Then, is there any kind of clue that could help us understand this “story that isn’t very easy to understand at first glance”?

Hanyu: I think it’s fine to understand it in whatever way you feel it… Hmm, how should I put it? For example, even if you have absolutely no idea what the lyrics of a song actually mean, you might happen to be in a certain emotional state and suddenly be deeply struck by one particular part of it. Even if the lyrics as a whole are fragmented and disjointed, there might be one particular word that somehow pierces your heart. That kind of thing happens too, doesn’t it? Whether you’re reading a novel or watching a story, even if it isn’t necessarily a story you particularly like, sometimes you somehow end up remembering a single line from it. Those things happen as well.

So I don’t think there’s any need to completely accept the entire story, or all of my skating, as a whole. If there happens to be just one part that touches something inside you when you’re suffering, when you’re struggling with your life, or even when you’re happy, then I think that’s already enough. And if that leads you to think about your own life, your own experiences and background, or something connected to yourself, then I think that would be wonderful.

— Do the ideas for ICE STORY keep coming to you one after another? Or are there also times when you simply can’t think of anything at all?

Hanyu: Of course there are. Actually, quite often I’m in the situation of, “I can think of it, but I can’t think of it.”

— Hmm? What do you mean?

Hanyu: I can see the imagery. A general image will come to me, and the theme will also appear in my mind. For example, I’ll have this vague feeling of, “Ah, I want to make something like this.” It’s the same when I’m choreographing. I’ll think, “I want to show footage with this kind of effect,” and I can see, in a fairly concrete image, roughly what I’m going to be doing. But when it actually comes time to put everything together, I often find that there are many places where things simply don’t line up, or where they contradict each other. How should I put it… That’s basically what it feels like.

— Thank you very much for talking with me for so long today. Actually, you really do like talking about these “deep topics”… right?

Hanyu: Hmm… Do I? Rather than saying that I like talking about these things, I feel like, ever since I was born, I’ve always carried this question of, “What exactly am I?” Once I became old enough to understand things, I was always thinking, “Why am I alive?” Wouldn’t you think about things like that? For example, “After I fall asleep tonight, could I wake up and turn back into a baby?” Or, “Maybe I used to be a tiny ant that someone stepped on and killed?” Things like that.

Although I do think that searching for hope is certainly something very human to do… Still, people tend to remember pain more clearly, so isn’t searching for hope actually a rather troublesome thing to do? That’s how I feel. So, how should I put it… I feel like I’ve made it this far by constantly forcing myself to do these troublesome things. By forcing myself to keep fighting, forcing myself to keep living.

For me, getting good results in skating, giving good performances, and living up to other people’s expectations are actually no different from “maintaining the activities of life.” If I don’t get a good result, the people around me will be disappointed, and everyone has already put so much effort into me. To use that Paleolithic example from earlier, it would be like everyone working together with all their strength, finally managing to bring home a mammoth, and then I look at the meat everyone worked so hard to bring back and say, “I can’t eat it,” and just starve to death. Wouldn’t that be awful? Everyone has already worked so hard. Everyone has already given so much for me, and yet I wasn’t able to give anything back. That’s something I still can’t accept…

I feel like, in the end, that’s really all there is to it. Even now, I still feel that perhaps the meaning of my being alive is simply that.

What a great interview! 🥰

Machine translation from Japanese to English, inaccuracies exist.

[P. 3-7]

Professional Pride

The name of the story is “Yuzuru Hanyu.”

Spoiler - collapse to read

In February 2026, the Winter Olympics were held in Milan for the first time in four years. For the world of men’s figure skating, it was the first “Olympics without Yuzuru Hanyu” since 2010.

Sochi 2014, where, at just 19 years old, he rose from Asia to the very top of the world. PyeongChang 2018, where he overcame the crisis of a major injury and once again shone with a gold medal. And then, four years ago, Beijing 2022, where he fought against the circumstances of the COVID pandemic and an ankle sprain during the competition.

Compared with the Sochi and PyeongChang Games, where he won, it cannot be denied that, in Beijing, the frustration still remains deeply etched. 

But I think of it this way, too. The man who, at any time and in any circumstance, wore the air of a “professional” about him, and who, more than anyone in the world, made us feel the “Ice Story” of Beijing.

His name was Yuzuru Hanyu.

That person, himself.

---

[P. 4]

Yuzuru Hanyu

“Even though everyone is working so hard for me, I hate not being able to live up to those expectations…
That was all. I still sometimes feel like that’s all the meaning there is to being alive, though.”

---

[P. 6–7]

In Beijing, 2022.

I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.

The once-a-year Figure Skating Magazine.

This year, being an Olympic year, first of all, I would like to think about the “Beijing Games” of 2022.

Words / Shinichi Yamaguchi
Photos / Ryosuke Menju [JMPA]

It’s not that I have any complaints. In my head, I am convinced, too.

And yet… Even so, I find myself thinking about it.

The Beijing Olympics of February 2022.

I wonder what the “festival of sport” held four years ago meant to Yuzuru Hanyu.

This February, I watched the Milano Olympics on television. Since I had been at the venues in PyeongChang and Beijing, this was the first Olympics in winter in 12 years that I watched from the “TV box seats.”

“Game time” in Italy was the early hours of the morning in Japan, and I watched the Olympics on television while keeping warm under a blanket. In the midst of that, I suddenly remembered Beijing four years ago.

At the Olympics, held once every four years, who, exactly, can be called a “top athlete in the world”? Following Sochi and PyeongChang, wasn’t Hanyu, in Beijing as well, the “face” of the world?

The Beijing Olympics of 2022 began, incredibly enough now, in the midst of an “unprecedented” COVID pandemic.

February 8 was the short program. To the music of Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso, Hanyu began his performance. His first jump was a quadruple Salchow. However, he got caught in a hole on the surface and was unable to kick off the ice properly, resulting in a botched jump; the Salchow received a score of “0.80.”

February 9 was official practice. In preparation for the free skating the following day, Hanyu was practicing the quadruple Axel, and because of a fall at this time, he sprained his old-injured right foot.

February 10 was the free skating. To the music of Heaven and Earth, he attempted the first jump, a quadruple Axel, but unfortunately was unable to land it successfully. The following quadruple Salchow also failed. Even so, Hanyu successfully landed the remaining five jumps, including two four-revolution combinations.

Beijing was a Games where one thing after another happened that could not be dismissed simply as “bad luck.” He was frustrated, terribly frustrated, and it is easy to understand why Hanyu himself could not accept it.

However, from 2018 onward, Hanyu had changed into “something beyond an athlete.”

The way he challenged the quadruple Axel, which no one had jumped at the time.

The way he pursued what “beautiful figure skating” was.

More than anything, the positive and overwhelming amount of energy that moved fans around the world.

The reporters and photographers surrounding Hanyu had watched all of that closely. At the Olympics held once every four years—or rather, at the Olympics to which he had devoted his whole life—they had witnessed firsthand the tremendous force with which Hanyu went after the gold medal.

The “injuries” that continued to trouble Hanyu. They could be called the price he paid for the more than twenty years he had placed on the Olympic stage.

In this magazine’s “Long Interview,” we also asked Hanyu about the Beijing Games.

We were the ones who had been allowed to dream.

Shouldn’t we, even so, pass on the memories of Beijing?

Because this is also the story of the people who had been “watching closely” Yuzuru Hanyu.

---

[P. 8–44]

Long Interview

Yuzuru Hanyu

“Four years ago, at the point when I was in Beijing, I think I was already a professional.”

Spoiler - collapse to read

The first long interview in a year.

Since this year is an “Olympic year,” we spoke mainly about the Olympics, which cannot be separated from Yuzuru Hanyu.

For the interviewer, it was “Sendai after a long time,” while for the photographer, it was their “first time meeting.”

A conversation in the early afternoon, with a sense of tension to it as well, which we take our time with.

(Recorded in June 2026)

Interview / Composition: Shinichi Yamaguchi
Photos: Takao Sakai (interview), Ryosuke Menju (Beijing Olympics = JMPA)
Stylist: Minako Orihara

[Photo caption: “Make it feel summery!”

Responding to that request, this was Yuzuru Hanyu on this day. Whether during casual exchanges or when explaining serious thoughts, the way he spoke was Yuzuru-like throughout.]

After leaving his hometown in 2012, there was a struggle over “Is this really okay?”

Interviewer: This is our first interview since last year’s interview for the children’s book (New Sports Superstars Series, Season 2, Vol. 3, published by our company). Thank you so much for your help on that occasion.

Hanyu: Likewise.

Interviewer: This year marks 15 years since the Great East Japan Earthquake, and as I’ve continued researching your upbringing, I thought, “He really is a person of Tohoku.”

Hanyu: Honestly, even if someone says, “You’re a Tohoku person, right?”[1] this is just normal to me, so… Even if someone says, “You’re very Tohoku-like,” I don’t really understand it, or rather…

Interviewer: Hanyu-san was born in Tohoku and grew up in Tohoku. Personally, I’ve thought that perhaps you “can’t escape” from that fate. For example, when you moved your base to Toronto, or when you were asked questions by the press corps after winning in Sochi, and also in your feelings toward “Notte Stellata” today. At every such occasion, Hanyu-san has accepted being a “person of Tohoku.” I felt that again.

Hanyu: The struggle I had at that time (when I moved to Toronto in 2012) was, honestly, it was also the first moment when I was leaving my hometown, and in terms of timing, the earthquake had happened one year earlier, but it was also in order for me to keep evolving. In 2012, I came third (at the World Championships in Nice), and in order to properly break into the world[2] from that point on, I had thought, “Honestly, the training environment I have now isn’t enough, right?” And with that in mind, I decided to go overseas, to go to Toronto. If there hadn’t been the earthquake, I think I would have felt that leaving Sendai was “lonely,” but, well, I have to go—because it was something necessary in order to keep evolving, in order to fight against the world even more from that point on. 

But at that time, the earthquake had happened one year earlier. Speaking specifically of the inland areas of Miyagi Prefecture, things like utility poles and traffic signals had fallen over, but those kinds of things had been repaired, and of course, as for water pipes and lifelines, unlike the difficult situation in Noto (following the Noto Peninsula Earthquake in January 2024), by that time there weren’t that many areas where the lifelines themselves had been cut off. So, in terms of living our daily lives, there wasn’t really that much that was difficult, but I think it differs depending on whether you take your hometown to mean “Miyagi Prefecture,” “Sendai City,” or “Tohoku.” But with people actually going through difficult experiences, there was honestly a struggle in me over whether the motivation of “leaving my hometown” and “seeking a training environment” was really okay. If there hadn’t been the earthquake, I wonder if it would have ended with something like, “It’s lonely to leave my hometown.” I think about that again now.

Entrusting Ryuichi Sakamoto’s “soul of music,” and my own “emotions,” “wounds,” and “struggles.”

Interviewer: This year’s collaboration at Notte Stellata was with the Tohoku Youth Orchestra. They usually work in Tohoku, and they are also younger than you. With Notte Stellata now in its fourth year, I wonder if it has entered a new stage.

Hanyu: But I didn’t really think, “I have to lead them myself.” Honestly, she—they—are, when all is said and done, “professionals.” There’s no doubt that they practice in order to perform there, and conversely, when we were appearing in all kinds of shows as a sort of gateway to becoming professionals, I think there were actually a lot of things about us that weren’t very professional (laughs). And I myself had felt that firsthand from various skaters.

So, conversely, I felt that those kids—the Tohoku Youth Orchestra—were more professional, or rather, there was this feeling of, “Ah, it’s okay to leave this to them.”

Actually, it wasn’t only the Tohoku Youth Orchestra; several people from the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra also joined them, so in that sense as well, the performance itself was really tight [polished]. Of course, before actually going to the venue, we received demos, and we received rehearsal recordings, and some of them weren’t made in particularly good recording environments, so, honestly, there was also a feeling of, “I wonder how this is going to turn out,” if I had to say there was.

But when we actually did it, the feeling of reassurance that came from, “Ah, they’re professionals,” was stronger. So, whatever I asked of them, I went into it thinking, “It’ll be okay.” Also, I don’t think everyone who joined had necessarily been members during the period when Ryuichi Sakamoto was involved with the Tohoku Youth Orchestra, but in the process of creating the work, I honestly felt that they were kids to whom Ryuichi Sakamoto could entrust his “soul of music” and his “feelings toward music.”

Interviewer: Personally, the performance of “Happy End” stayed with me. The performance begins with you lying on your back, and the protagonist finally tries to get up with great difficulty. Right away, you show an expression of “this is painful,” and even while holding your head, you go through an enormous number of spins. I thought the motif was Sakamoto himself, who suffered from illness, but remained together with the Tohoku Youth Orchestra until the very end.

Hanyu: There are all kinds of ways for people to receive it, and I think that’s fine, so this isn’t really a program where I want to explain in detail, “This is what I was expressing.”

The meaning of Ryuichi Sakamoto deliberately giving the name “Happy End” to a song like this, such a dark song—and, at first, a song that was even noisier[3]—and the fact that it’s probably a piece of music written with that kind of mentality…

While considering what kind of state of mind, what kind of mental state, he was in when he deliberately gave this dark song the title “Happy End,” and what state his body was in, and how the people around him might have seen him—within a performance like “Notte Stellata,” which carries thoughts of earthquake recovery, when it came to the fact that I would skate there, and furthermore, that I would be skating together with people from the Tohoku Youth Orchestra, people who have, so to speak, a deep relationship with the earthquake disaster, and also a deep relationship with Ryuichi Sakamoto, I felt that, after all, I had to express the emotions that had been born from within the earthquake disaster.

But not simply the parts of myself that are, like, “the places where I’m suffering,” “the places that are painful,” “my distrust of people,”—I also intended to entrust to the performance things like my own “emotions,” “wounds,” and “struggles” that had been born from the earthquake disaster.

The show won’t begin if I’m not there. No matter how painful it is, I’ll do it with responsibility.

Interviewer: At Notte Stellata, I think you were keeping the jumps somewhat restrained, but was this because…?

Hanyu: In January of this year, I had a major sprain, and from there, my ankle just wouldn’t heal properly. It was still swollen, and I somehow forced myself to put on my skates, tied the boots tight, and skated, but… Because it was swollen, the rubbing from the boots became really bad, and there were also things like abnormalities occurring in the bone itself, and various other things. There was quite a long period when I couldn’t keep my skating boots on continuously, and I was doing quite a lot of things, like getting painkiller injections, but things didn’t really go well. I was constantly taking painkillers and fighting with the pain… It was that kind of feeling.

Interviewer: I see. For a show skater whose own name is—whose name is the signboard, so to speak—there are circumstances where you can’t take a break even if you want to, aren’t there? The audience sees the words “Yuzuru Hanyu,” and then there is the scramble for tickets. They book the Shinkansen or flights, reserve hotels, and come all the way to the venue. And then, up until the day of the show, the countdown begins. I think that is the value of a “Yuzuru Hanyu” production.

Hanyu: I think that is, so to speak, what it means to have a show that bears your own name. And actually, when it comes to a solo ice show, if I’m not there, it really won’t work at all, so… There, once again, I thought that I myself had to take responsibility and “do it,” no matter how painful it was or whatever the circumstances were. Of course, even practicing was painful in itself—just putting on the boots was painful. I couldn’t tighten the skates, after all… I’ve had a lot of sprains before, and because my ligaments are loose as well, I had been taping every day as a preventive measure, but taping itself also ends up being an approach that isn’t good for the skin, you know. I’ve been making various adjustments, but at most, I could get on the ice for, like, “15 minutes a day,” and… In that kind of environment, if you ask whether I could practice jumps, it was difficult, and I also had to do the choreography. There were a lot of new programs, so I had to skate both of them over and over [until they became thoroughly ingrained], but while thinking, “This is pretty difficult,” I really just did as much as I could on land, built up my stamina, worked on getting my body into shape… Looking back, I think there was a lot of that.

Interviewer: Notte Stellata, which you approached while carrying an injury. Was there anything you told yourself?

Hanyu: Not particularly. Of course, I get nervous. I thought I hadn’t practiced enough, too. But because I had done what I could do, there wasn’t really any particular way of psyching myself up or anything like that. I’m nervous every time, too. Every time, I get really nervous about whether or not I can deliver a good performance to everyone, and I get really anxious, so… I think that part didn’t really change. Because even if it hurts, I’ll do it…

Interviewer: Then, one month later, with “REALIVE” and “PREQUEL,” how was the condition of your foot? Did your condition improve?

Hanyu: There was one treatment that worked well, and that was also an injection, but from there, I really, little by little, began to be able to increase my practice time, and from there it gradually… It was that kind of feeling. If you ask whether that was practice before the solo shows, it’s not as though I was able to do that much, though. Compared with the Ice Stories up until now, the foundation wasn’t at all fully built yet, and honestly, if I said that I had this feeling of, “I wanted to do more,” I did have that feeling, but… Still, it felt like I somehow managed to make it in time.

The frustration of Beijing still remains. But I had a value beyond that.

Interviewer: This year is an Olympic year. You had performances scheduled for the spring, so perhaps you didn't have much time to think about that?

Hanyu: I did watch it to some extent.

Interviewer: You began skating when you were four, and when you were five, you yourself said, “I’m going to win at the Olympics.” From there, what did you feel watching an Olympics for the first time not as one in which you were going to participate?

Hanyu: It’s in the past, but it’s, well, like the highlight of my life. I lived for that.

Interviewer: The gold medal really is a wonderful thing, and there’s no question about that. But you are only 31 now. Life is going to continue from here, and is there a sense of anticipation that another, different highlight is waiting for you?

Hanyu: To put that much into it, for everyone to join their strength together like crazy and go to grasp hold of something. With a gold medal, it’s not just a matter of being good as a performance; there’s something like “physical evidence,” you could say. There’s proof that you won. Even if you can produce a high performance, even if you can create a good work, there’s no “evidence” left there, right? There may be an “evaluation” left, but… In that sense, winning at the Olympics really was, honestly, something special, and I feel like I lived for that. It’s in the past, though. Now, now is fulfilling in its own way, and I am doing what I should be doing now, but I think “the Olympics was the highlight of Yuzuru Hanyu.” Because I lived for that. For that, I had been doing this since I was four. I don’t think there is anything beyond that.

Interviewer: Regarding the Beijing Olympics four years ago, in 2022, do you ever go back and watch the footage?

Hanyu: I might not watch it actively. Sometimes, by chance, I’ll see something on Twitter, like the official Olympic committee posting about it, but I don’t go looking for it myself.

Interviewer: In last year’s interview for the children’s book, I think you showed tears. The four years leading up to 2022, and what happened in Beijing… It certainly is in the past, but it was something that remains so vivid in your memory that even now, you can still show tears over it.

Hanyu: Because I did it putting my life into it. People often casually call something “youth,” but that wasn’t “youth.” It was something like “a mass of my own life.” It’s frustrating that I couldn’t win there. It’s frustrating that I couldn’t complete the jump. It was also frustrating that I sprained my ankle in official practice. I never thought something like that would happen in the short program, either… Honestly, there’s nothing but “frustration” when it comes to that competition.

But at that time, it was a (COVID) bubble, and the state of things was that almost no spectators were allowed in. There were volunteers watching, and athletes and people involved with the event watching, and really, that was about it. It wasn’t a competition wrapped in that kind of heat and energy like PyeongChang (the 2018 Olympics). So, somehow, how should I put it… Along with feeling even more strongly the “emptiness,” and the things I hadn’t been able to do, conversely, even despite it being that kind of competition, there were people within it who gave me incredibly loud support. And moreover, there were people who supported me more than anyone else. It was also a competition where I once again truly felt that.

The feeling of frustration hasn’t changed even now, but if you ask me whether I have “lingering attachment” to it, I don’t. I have neither regret nor lingering attachment, but… It’s frustrating. It really is frustrating. Because I couldn’t do anything more than that. But, how should I put it… It was also a competition that taught me that, in a sense, I have other kinds of value[4]. In that sense, it was something that was, so to speak, “connected to becoming a professional,” or rather, I was already “a professional” from that point. Whether I was able to jump or not, if there were people who could find value in it as “a Yuzuru Hanyu performance,” then I felt that I could make a living as a professional.

Even when it’s painful, everyone is fighting. Living is painful to begin with.

Interviewer: The Beijing Olympics of 2022 were memorable in terms of the competition itself, but another unforgettable event was the official practice for the exhibition on February 18. At the “second rink” of Capital Indoor Stadium, the main venue, right in front of the press, you performed nine of your previous programs.

Hanyu: It was a flashback (走馬灯/sōmatō)[5], a flashback of my life. I went through everything I had left behind on the ice, and thought, “Ah, I’ve gotten better than I was back then.” “Even though this was the kind of life I had as a competitor…” “I never did manage to land the Axel, though…” And there were really so many people from the media there with me, and honestly, I thought, “There’s no point in filming practice before the exhibition after the competition is already over,” and it was the kind of practice where you’d think, “Even if you film this, what news is it going to make?” But even so, everyone from the media came to watch.

There were some media people who were mean-spirited, but even so, there were also many media people who had fought alongside me. The photographers, the reporters, the directors, and people like that… I did have this feeling that I wanted to “show them the sōmatō of Yuzuru Hanyu’s competitive life.” To the people who had kept filming me, who had kept watching me, who had kept supporting me… That feeling was stronger.

Interviewer: What I thought again in Beijing was that, for some reason, you are always carrying some kind of crisis with you, and yet you always show people “something” that exceeds their imagination. In other words, you are beyond “human understanding.”

Hanyu: No, that’s not it. Because, I mean, isn’t everyone like that? Everyone is fighting even while things are painful.“Living” is painful. Everyone is suffering in order to “live.” Back when we were Jōmon people[6], or even in the Paleolithic period, for example, people were taking all kinds of actions like crazy in order to obtain nutrition, in order to live. If they were hunter-gatherers, they had to run like crazy, and everyone makes an effort, doesn’t everyone, in order to live? Even if they managed to get food there, after some time, hunger would come again. And I think there would also be times when they couldn't divide that food among their own children, and then the parents would have to watch their own children die. That’s incredibly painful, isn’t it?

When it came to hunting, if you were someone who was an important member of the group, there could be times when you became unable to divide food among your children. But people in leadership positions would, without a doubt, be able to divide it among them. I think that’s not different at all from society today… There really are “priorities,” aren’t there, among human beings and within society. So living is painful, because that’s how it is to begin with. There are various things, like the fact that I sprained my ankle in Beijing, or that I couldn’t land the 4A there, but… But it had been that way all along, even before that. I had been getting injured constantly, and within that, I had kept trying to “win,” even if I had to force myself. And I had kept thinking that, even if I had to force myself, I wanted to live up to the expectations of the people who were supporting me… And that’s exactly how it was with Notte, too, and REALIVE, too, and PREQUEL, too. It hasn’t changed at all. It’s not a matter of “because it was Beijing” or anything like that. If you say that, then it becomes, “Well, what about Nice?” Nice was even harder, mentally. I feel that I’ve been doing this thing of “suffering” all along, and I think I have fought without running away from that suffering, using it as nourishment for myself.

“Works exist ‘in order to deliver something to someone.’ I’m not doing them for myself.”

Interviewer: The April performances were structured in two parts, “REALIVE” and “PREQUEL.” The fourth Ice Story is “WHITE...” following PREQUEL, its prequel. At the April 1 performance, you said, “I was thinking that it would probably be quite a difficult story if you were seeing it for the first time...” and then also said, “I’d like to know about your interpretations and what kinds of emotions you felt, too, but I think the way each of you truly received it, however you felt it, is everything.”

Yuzuru: Because I’m not skating for myself. I’ve been making works all this time thinking, “I hope something reaches someone.” Of course, I turn my attention toward myself, dig into myself, dig into the things around me, think about all kinds of things, think about the world and society and all sorts of things, and make [the works] that way. But basically, my skating and my expression are things that exist “in order to deliver [something] to someone.” So I don’t make works thinking only about myself.

Interviewer: What can serve as a hint for understanding this “difficult story if you’re seeing it for the first time”?

Yuzuru: I think it’s fine to just feel it as you feel it, but... hmm, how should I put it? Even if you don’t understand the meaning of the lyrics at all, depending on the emotions you happen to be feeling at that moment, there are times when something really strikes you, aren’t there? Even if the lyrics are completely incoherent, sometimes just a single word can strike you. Even when you’re reading a novel or watching a story, even if it’s not a story you particularly like, I think there are times when, somehow, just one phrase remains with you.

So I think it’s okay not to give your full affirmation to the whole story, or to all of the skating. There might be some part that just happens to leave an impression on you, and whether your heart is hurting, or you’re troubled about your own life, or you’re happy—it doesn’t matter either way—but if somewhere, some phrase manages to strike you, then I think that’s enough. And if, from there, somehow, something about your own life, or your background, or things like that, gets brought to mind, then I think that’s enough for me.

Interviewer: Do ideas for Ice Stories come to you one after another? Are there also times when nothing comes to mind?

Yuzuru: There are, of course. There are times when something comes to mind, but I can’t bring it to mind, you know? That happens quite often.

Interviewer: Hm? What do you mean by that?

Yuzuru: I can visualize it. The image comes out, and the theme comes out. Vaguely, “I want to do something like this.” It’s the same with choreography, too. I can see in a form what kind of images I want to put up, or what it is that I’m probably doing, but in reality, there are also lots of things where the pieces don’t fit together. Somehow, that’s just how those things are.

Interviewer: Thank you very much for talking about so many things today. To be frank, you do like “deep talks”... don’t you?

Yuzuru: Hmm, I wonder. It’s more like, rather than liking to talk, I’ve had the question “What am I?” since I was born, and by the time I was old enough to have awareness of myself, I was always thinking, “Why am I alive?” I mean, don’t you think so? Like, “When I go to sleep today, maybe I’ll have turned back into a baby,” or, “Maybe I was a little ant that got stepped on.” I think seeking hope is very human, but somehow, it’s more like you remember the times when you suffered more, isn’t it? 

Seeking hope is really troublesome, isn’t it? That’s how I feel about it. So somehow, I think I’ve lived my life by forcing myself to live like that. I’ve fought by forcing myself to, and I think I’ve lived by forcing myself to. So, for me, getting results in skating, giving good performances, responding to people’s expectations—none of that is any different from “life activity.” If I can’t get a result, everyone around me will be sad, and the effort that everyone around me has put in—for example, if we use the example from the Paleolithic era, it would be like everyone working hard together to bring home mammoth meat, and then saying, “I can’t eat it,” and starving to death. You wouldn’t want that, would you? Even though everyone worked that hard, even though everyone worked so hard for my sake, I still just really don’t like not being able to live up to those expectations… I don’t know, that was really all it was. I still get the feeling that that might be all the meaning there is to being alive, though.

[P. 43 photo caption: “At the end of the interview, there was also some ‘deep talk.’ Hanyu’s ‘brain’ is still thinking about everyone’s lives.”]

NOTES

Spoiler - collapse to read

[1] Yamaguchi-san uses “東北の人”, Yuzuru first responds with “東北の人間. “人間” used by Yuzuru has a slightly more concrete, personal “a person/human being from Tohoku” quality than the categorical “東北人” (“Tohoku person / Tohoku native”).”

[2] “これからちゃんと世界に割り込んでいく”. Literally, 割り込む is to cut in, squeeze into, insert oneself into a space. In a competitive context, it's the idea of breaking into the existing group/field of the world's top skaters.

[3] "Happy End" evolved from electronic pop with Yellow Magic Orchestra (YMO) into intimate acoustic and chamber arrangements over Sakamoto’s career. The 1981 YMO version featured heavy electronic processing and a dub-style production aesthetic.

[4] Just because it’s an interesting shift, here Yuzuru says “私” (watashi) to refer to himself, when he normally has said “僕” (boku) throughout the interview.

[5] A 走馬灯 (Sōmatō) is traditionally a rotating lantern that creates the impression of images moving past one after another. Figuratively, 走馬灯のように describes memories flashing/running through one's mind, especially in moments of crisis or near death.

[6] The Jōmon period is the time between c. 14,000 and 300 BC, during which Japan was inhabited by the Jōmon people, a diverse hunter-gatherer and early agriculturalist population united by a common culture, which reached a considerable degree of sedentism and cultural complexity. For those interested in archaeology and different cultures: there are wonderful site museums in Sendai, Nininohe and Aomori that have preserved and reconstructed Jōmon villages and display their elaborate ceramic.

February 18, 2022 — Capital Gymnasium, Sub-Rink

Four Years from Beijing

The Meaning of “Yuzuru Hanyu’s Nine Programs”

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Four years ago, in February 2022, came the Beijing Games, which would be Yuzuru Hanyu’s final Olympics.

Eight days after finishing the men’s singles competition, on February 18, he performed nine programs that he himself described as “the things I had left behind in my skating life.”

The place was the sub-rink of the Capital Gymnasium, the main venue for figure skating.

I would like to vividly capture the “special 40 minutes” shared by Hanyu and the members of the press, which also appeared in the opening interview.

Text / Shinichi Yamaguchi
Photographs / Ryosuke Menju [JMPA]

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P. 47 — Photo caption

There was no winning or losing there, and yet there was never a space in which one could feel such catharsis as intensely as this. Forty blissful minutes for “Yuzuru Hanyu” and the people watching over him. The moment he finished the practice, the reporters briefly stopped their hands from taking notes and applauded, while Hanyu simply and quietly savoured that scene.

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P. 48 — Photo caption

On this day, Hanyu entered the rink at 3:10 p.m. He touched the ice with both hands and offered a prayer to his edge covers—the same routine he always performed. Before that, during the allotted ice time, Keegan Messing (Canada) had been practicing, and at his request Hanyu helped him take a commemorative photo with his smartphone. After that, Hanyu was the only one left on the ice. He entrusted his smartphone to the person in charge of the rink's sound system. And that was the beginning of “Yuzuru Hanyu’s Nine Programs.”

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P. 49 — Photo caption

The first piece was the free skate “Hope & Legacy” from the 2016–2017 season. At the 2017 World Championships in Helsinki, it was the program with which he rose all the way from fifth place in the short program to first place. The next piece was “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini,” his free skate during the 2008–2009 and 2009–2010 seasons.

After his home rink, Ice Rink Sendai, was completed, this was the period when, in his second and third years of junior high school, he was surging upward with tremendous momentum toward his goal of becoming an Olympic champion: winning the Japanese Junior Championships two years in a row (2008, 2009), winning the Junior Grand Prix Final (2009), and then winning the World Junior Championships (2010).

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P. 50 — Photo caption

After the practice that day, Hanyu said:

“At first, before coming here, I thought maybe ‘Hope & Legacy,’ ‘Ballade No. 1,’ and ‘SEIMEI,’ and I was doing those, but somehow, after a while, I started thinking, ‘I want to do a lot of other ones, too…’”

At the beginning of the practice, the plan had been “Hanyu’s three programs.” In reality, it became three times that: “nine programs.” Looking at it in terms of his ice shows today, I have a feeling that Hanyu’s desire of “I really want to include this particular piece” may actually have been born from this experience.

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P. 51 — Photo caption

The third piece was the free skate “Notre Dame de Paris” from the 2012–2013 season. It was the free skate from the season when he moved his base to Toronto, Canada. The fourth was “Romeo and Juliet” from the 2013–2014 season. There is no need to explain this one anymore: it was the program with which he won the 2014 Sochi Olympics, and in that same season he also won the Grand Prix Final and the World Championships. Then came the familiar “Ballade No. 1,” the fifth program, which he used for the short program in the 2014–2015, 2015–2016, and 2017–2018 seasons, as well as from the latter half of the 2019–2020 season.

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P. 52 — Photo caption

The sixth piece was “Otonal,” the short program from the 2018–2019 season and through part of the 2019–2020 season. He won his first Skate Canada in 2019 with it, and although he kept the program through the middle of the following season, it was a piece he changed from the Four Continents Championships at the beginning of 2020.

The seventh was “White Legend” (Swan Lake), his short program from the 2010–2011 season. It was a piece that strongly pushed Hanyu forward during the season when he first competed on the senior Grand Prix circuit.

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P. 53 — Photo caption

The eighth piece was the exhibition program “Notte Stellata,” which he had performed since the 2016–2017 season. Today, it has become the name of the memorial ice show held every year in early spring. The choreography of the program was originally, like “White Legend,” based on the bearing and presence of a swan.

And the final, ninth piece was the choreographic sequence from “SEIMEI.” The moment he moved into the Ina Bauer, Hanyu was smiling. He must have been suffering, too, with his injured foot, but at that moment, Hanyu was certainly smiling.

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“After All, I Like My Skating, and It Feels Good to Have People Watch It”

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Figure skating at the Beijing Olympics, where the men’s singles competition concluded on February 10, 2022.

Hanyu, who had been injured during the competition, did not get on the ice for the following three days. Then, on February 14, he appeared for practice beginning at 3:20 p.m. The exhibition had originally been scheduled for February 20, and official practices had been made available to the athletes for purposes of adjustment.

On February 14, Hanyu stopped by the media center in Beijing and held a solo press conference beginning at 5:30 p.m. Before a packed room of reporters who had gathered from all over the world, he explained the “intention” behind the practice he was resuming that day.

“Honestly, this was actually a period when I wasn't supposed to skate, but I really, really wanted to skate, so I asked to be allowed to skate. Well, I think I'll practice a little from here on.”

“Today, I skated and tried various things with regard to skating—things I've learned up until now, things I've done since I was little—and I thought, ‘I've gotten better at it…’ And it was really fun, and it really felt good to have people watch it… After all, I thought, ‘I really do like my figure skating.’ I think that was what today's practice was.”

The following day, and again on February 17, Hanyu practiced.

On the 15th, he performed a run-through of the free skate music from the 2014–2015 season, “The Phantom of the Opera.” At the 2014 Cup of China in November, Hanyu had been involved in a collision before his free skate performance and had been left in an extremely dangerous condition. And yet, in the winter of 2022, he deliberately “reenacted” the Phantom on Chinese ice—although the venue in 2014 had been Shanghai, not Beijing.

February 17 was, as it were, “Rock Number 1 Day.”

The run-throughs were “Let’s Go Crazy,” his short program from the 2016–2017 season; “Parisienne Walkways,” the short program from the 2012–2013 and 2013–2014 seasons that brought him his first Olympic victory in Sochi; and, as the third piece, “Let Me Entertain You,” his short program from the 2020–2021 season.

After practice, Hanyu said:

“Today I packed in fun things.”

And then came the practice on the following day, February 18.

On February 19, the day before the exhibition, a large-scale meeting had to be held at the main rink. This practice was Hanyu’s last opportunity to skate freely in Beijing.

Before practice, Hanyu had been thinking:

“Before coming here, I thought it would probably be ‘Hope & Legacy,’ ‘Ballade No. 1,’ and ‘SEIMEI’…”

And:

“I thought I would do everything that I had left behind along the way in my skating life…”

In the end, on this day he skated nine programs, three times the number originally planned:

• “Hope & Legacy”

• “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini”

• “Notre Dame de Paris”

• “Romeo and Juliet” (the 2013–2014 season version)

• “Ballade No. 1”

• “Otonal”

• “White Legend”

• “Notte Stellata”

• “SEIMEI”

He did these programs within forty minutes.

Perhaps, on this occasion, Hanyu wanted to “digest,” or perhaps “transcend,” all of his frustration in Beijing.

For example, there was “Notre Dame de Paris,” the free skate from the 2012–2013 season, his first season at the Cricket Club in Toronto.

At the 2012 Grand Prix Final in Sochi, and then at the 2013 Four Continents Championships in Osaka and the World Championships in London, Canada, he failed the quadruple Salchow that came second in the program, and missed out on victory.

“I thought, ‘I can do it now…’ I couldn't jump the Salchow in ‘Notre Dame de Paris’ at all.”

Hanyu said this in an interview after practice.

Since his elementary-school years, Hanyu had grown by turning “frustration” into a weapon.

At the last opportunity to skate freely on Beijing ice, perhaps he wanted to “settle things” with the frustration of “these kids.”

If there was one other thing, perhaps it was the feeling of “entertaining the people watching to the very fullest”; a fundamental part, something at the very core of what is important as a figure skater.

“There are, of course, people who have been covering me since I was a junior, and there are also people who have changed since then, and all kinds of people, but today, since there was the actual exhibition practice, I was thinking, ‘Ah, I wonder if they’ll get to watch me.’ Well, I thought, ‘It’s okay if they don’t, I suppose.’

But if they were to choose the practice where I had come intending to skate freely, then, after all, with feelings of gratitude toward everyone, I wanted to skate thinking, ‘Thank you,’ for the path I’ve traveled up until now.”

What was it like for the reporters watching over him?

At first, the reporters were bewildered by Hanyu’s nine programs. They looked up the programs and considered “the meaning of doing them.”

The photographers were excited by everything happening before their eyes.

This was, after all, right in the middle of the COVID pandemic. Even simply covering the competition seemed to have brought everyone to the peak of both physical and mental exhaustion. And yet, the approximately fifty members of the press were grateful for Hanyu’s “gift.”

After the exhibition on February 20, Hanyu said:

“I was able to properly retrieve the things I had left behind. I was doing it thinking, ‘Now I can move on to the next thing.’”

In his own words, “the flashback (走馬灯/sōmatō) of my life up to this point.”

He had completely done Hanyu Yuzuru’s skating. There was nothing left to regret. In that narrow Beijing sub-rink, Hanyu, the reporters, and the photographers were smiling. Really, everyone had bright, clear smiles on their faces.

---

P. 55 — Photo caption

At the finish of the ninth piece, “SEIMEI,” Hanyu quietly closed his eyes.

“During the last choreographic step of PyeongChang [Olympics], I don't think I'll ever forget that moment, but somehow, today is today, too, and there's no opportunity to have people watch me doing a choreographic sequence with this much of my full effort…”

“I think, just a little, that I was able to show my step sequence with my full effort.”

At this moment, something ended inside Hanyu, and at the same time, perhaps something new began.

Thank you! A beautiful stroll inside his mind

Machine translation, inaccuracies exist

[P. 56-65]

Part 1 REALIVE | Part 2 PREQUEL before the WITE

April 11, 2026

Sekisui Heim Super Arena, Rifu, Miyagi Prefecture

Sound, Words, Skating.

Yuzuru Hanyu’s “REAL LIVE.”

Spoiler - Collapse to display content

The first solo performance in one year and two months was composed of two parts.

Part 1 was “REALIVE.” Through the maintenance of both “mind” and “body,” it was 48 minutes in which viewers were asked to see how the programs he had created up until now had changed.

Text / Shinichi Yamaguchi
Photographs / Ryosuke Menju

The feelings of “one year and two months” inscribed in his hometown, Miyagi

On the multi-faceted vision screens, a vast amount of music flowed.

On April 11, Yuzuru Hanyu appeared on the rink in black. It had been one year and two months since his last solo performance. And what is more, the stage was his hometown of Miyagi.

The first thing that overwhelmed those watching was the “sound” of skating, resounding through the silence. The sound of the edge gliding across the ice.

The sound of the ice being scraped as he applied the brake. His figure, facing the rink alone, seemed almost like a direct reflection of Hanyu’s everyday life. With the stroke of his skate tracing the surface of the ice as the signal, the show suddenly accelerated. The first piece was “MEGALOVANIA.”

In a complete change from the tranquil sound of the ice until then, Hanyu repeatedly launched into powerful spins. Again and again—no, dozens of times. He was almost like a small child to whom the god of ice had given a skating rink. When the music ended, Hanyu once again went back backstage. On the screens around the arena, a digest of the Ice Stories so far was shown.

After a short interval, he appeared in a white dress shirt for “Mass Destruction -Reload” Dancing energetically, Hanyu also conversed with the audience through his gaze. The venue had already reached boiling point. The vision then switched to archival footage tracing Hanyu’s competitive career, and the “clock” stopped at October 2019. The short program “Otonal,” from the 2018–2019 season and through the middle of the 2019–2020 season.

It was the program with which he scored 109.60 points at Skate Canada in October 2019. Under lighting designed like a record disc, Hanyu extended his right hand. In the midst of the program, which he had chosen “as a surprise, because it was also a program I hadn’t skated yet [as a professional skater],” came the triple Axel, the twizzles, and the emotionally stirring step sequence.

The day he performed it in Kelowna, Canada, was, I believe, also a day of strong winds. “First victory at Skate Canada.”

Memories like that began to surface in my mind. As an aside, when we traveled by plane after Skate Canada, Hanyu and I were on the same flight. What he was holding in his hand at the time was a handheld game console. The screen of the handheld game console appeared on the arena’s vision screens. “To breathe” is “to live.”

On the rink dyed red, Hanyu portrayed inner conflict in “Chicken, Snake , Pig,” (Gate of Living) and then, with an expression of complete clarity—the exact opposite—he danced “Ano Natsu e,” (One Summer’s Day). After that, through the vision screens, Hanyu’s “words” rang out through the arena.

“I had this feeling that I didn’t want to leave behind the children I had created up until now, and, after all, I kept thinking that I hoped those kids would somehow, not exactly come back to life, but that an opportunity would come for them to live again somewhere else…At the root of it was this feeling that I wanted to let them live again, through my skills as they are now, through my body as it is now.”

“After creating them, and then coming to the point where I perform them, where I perform them as skating, as a performance, it also felt like they were truly living there as real things… something like that. So I combined ‘real’ and ‘live’—real and live—into REALIVE. Now, things are constantly being updated, so I have this image that I hope it becomes something that can only be what I am now, at that place, at that time—something that can only be done now.”

“What’s difficult this time is that, of course, there are parts where I’m skating continuously for a long time, but originally, these programs were each skated one at a time, and having to skate them almost continuously, just like that, is really, really difficult.”

“There’s a sense of having made progress, but at the same time, there are still a lot of things that make me think, after all, I really haven’t practiced enough… But little by little, my body has started getting stronger, and I’ve started being able to do things that I’ve practiced… Somehow, right now, I’m really in a place where things are changing rapidly.”

“Skating really is difficult, I thought, all over again. (laughs)”

Along with his words, the piano melody of the background music raced through my head. On the screens around the arena, footage of Hanyu practicing was playing. He jumped, and landed on the ice. Without thinking, Hanyu threw out a full-force fist pump.

“There was also a period when I had to spend some time away from skating, and, well, there was a period when I had no choice but to be away from it…”

Hanyu spoke these words after the show, but perhaps he had experienced the sensation of the techniques he had “been able to do” until then temporarily moving away from his body.

In the footage, he called out to his own jump:

“Welcome back!”

His real feelings were packed into those words.

The finale of Part 1 was “Utai: Reawakening,” followed by the choreography sequence from “SEIMEI.”

Hanyu’s breathing had become extremely labored, and even so, one could feel his earnest wish:

“I want to end with this piece.”

At the end of Part 1, which lasted 48 minutes, came the shout:

“Arigatō gozaimashitā!”

It is unusual to leave this kind of shout at the end of the first half of a show.

One year and two months away from solo performances. Hanyu’s new feelings toward his “skating” had been distilled into the “sound” played by his edges and the “words” left beside the rink.

The 7,000 people who had gathered at the venue that day perhaps each cast their own words toward him in their hearts:

“Welcome home!”

---

“By Doing the Maintenance, I’ve Become Able to Do Things That Make Sense”

After the April 11 performance ended, a press conference was held for members of the media. It proceeded as follows.

Spoiler - Collapse to display content

Moderator: Thank you for waiting.

Hanyu: Thank you for your hard work.
(To the reporters.) Thank you.

Moderator: Then, could we have a question from the representative of the television stations?

Reporter: Thank you for your hard work.

Hanyu: Thank you. Please.

Reporter: Today was your first solo performance since Echoes of Life. Now that you’ve finished the opening day of the performance, how do you feel?

Hanyu: I’m really, really tired. (laughs) I think I practiced a lot… or at least, I think I did, but being able to keep skating by myself like this for such a long time was also something I hadn’t done for a whole season, so I was nervous, after all. And also, as a first attempt this time, as “my own solo programs,” there were quite a few very densely packed pieces coming one after another… And doing the entire second half without leaving the ice at all was also something I was doing for the first time. So there were all kinds of challenges, but I’d be happy if something like a new value of mine, or something along those lines, can come into being.

Reporter: With more than a year between solo performances, could you tell us again about the physical and mental changes you experienced within yourself?

Hanyu: There was also some time when I was away from skating, and there was a period when I had no choice but to be away from it… I’ve been doing maintenance because I wanted to take the places on my body that have been hurting, and the various places that I’ve really overused, and move them, even just a little, in a better direction—in a good direction for continuing on for a long time from here. As a result of that, I’ve once again been looking closely, one by one, at things like how to use my body from a biomechanical perspective, things from the standpoint of kinesiology, and also the sensations in my own body—the sensation of each individual joint and so on—while studying those things again, one by one, and I’ve made it this far. On top of that, little by little, including the way I dance and also the way I jump, I’ve become able to do things that make sense physically. I’m still at a stage of growth, but I’m in a place where things are changing rapidly right now, so I’m looking forward to it myself, and I want to keep skating from here on.

Reporter: This show consists of Part 1, REALIVE, and Part 2, PREQUEL. Could you tell us the concepts and intentions behind each one?

Hanyu: REALIVE is about taking the programs that I’ve skated in my Ice Stories up until now, maintaining them like this, and then, through my body, which has become new, showing everyone how they have changed—or, for me, it’s like showing that they are alive here, now. I really think that each program is a once in a life time (一期一会). Of course, depending on how the jumps, steps, spins, and so on turn out, and also depending on the cheers from everyone in the audience, how warm the venue is, and even the weather at that particular time, the atmosphere is completely different.

So I think, “These are things that are alive there,” you know? That’s why it feels very natural to me when musicians call something a “live.” So, in that sense as well, I thought of it as a “live,” and I created this thing called REALIVE. And then with PREQUEL, while keeping in mind first of all that I’m going to do the fourth Ice Story, I wanted to create something—something that could give everyone a sense of anticipation for the fourth one, something they could get excited about. So I worked hard to create something like that. I intended it to be a story where the protagonist gradually, gradually comes to know the colors of the world outside from within a monochrome world. Through all kinds of encounters, and through all kinds of things along that journey, the protagonist gradually comes to know the outside world, and various emotions begin to emerge. That’s the kind of story I intended to create.

Reporter: In terms of what you can talk about at this point, how far have you envisioned the fourth Ice Story, and what does that vision look like?

Hanyu: The concept is already done, and I’m already at the stage where I can more or less write the story within myself… Of course, since this is a prequel, I can’t write it without that [the story that comes after]. (laughs) So, in a sense, when I wrote and created this PREQUEL, the fourth Ice Story was already almost completely finished within me… From here, I’d like to keep working toward the next one while discussing various things with everyone.

Reporter: That concludes the television representatives’ questions. Thank you.

Hanyu: Thank you.

Moderator: Are there any other questions from television?

Reporter: In Part 2, you were alone [on the ice] for about twenty minutes, which I thought was quite long, and it felt almost like watching a theatrical performance…

Hanyu: Thank you.

Reporter: Who was responsible for the choreography and so on?

Hanyu: It was almost like a “co-creation” with MIKIKO-sensei. I conveyed various concepts to MIKIKO-sensei, and at the same time listened to the choreography concepts that she gave me. And together with the staging that had already been taking shape in MIKIKO-sensei’s mind, I would say things like, “I want to do it this way,” or, “I want to do it that way,” and have her create the choreography. Then, for each individual part, I would say, “I want to use this choreography here, but if we’re doing it as skating, what should we do?” We really took a great deal of time, communicating very closely, one thing at a time, and worked hard to build it up into a single work.

Reporter: It’s been a while.

Hanyu: It has.

Reporter: You chose Miyagi for your first solo performance after the “maintenance period” ended. Could you tell us why you chose Miyagi, and now that you’ve actually finished the first day, what are your thoughts?

Hanyu: After all, there was this feeling that, for my first start, I wanted to do it in my hometown. For me, this place, Miyagi, is a special place. It’s my “hometown,” and with this solo performance, people from all over the world have really been paying attention and gathering here, and people have also come to see it with attention from all kinds of media. So, in that sense, I felt really happy that people could see my “hometown,” and I wanted to start from here. Yes.

Reporter: And now that you’ve actually finished the performance, what are your thoughts?

Hanyu: I want to do my best tomorrow, too. “I’d be happy if you could look at that child with the feeling of each being an important encounter.”

Reporter: Regarding Part 2, as you were creating this original story, was it something in which things you had been thinking about since you were little came pouring out? How did the world of the story come into being? And when you were writing the original story, did you put it down in words like a screenwriter would? Could you tell us how you created it?

Hanyu: Well, with my usual Ice Stories, basically there’s a script, and I write all of that out, and write things like, “At this line, this is the scene,” that kind of thing. But this time, I wrote everything out in words, like writing out all of the movements as well. I wrote it all out… Rather than it being about myself—although that’s true of Ice Stories in general—I imagined it like, “If this child were to exist, how would they feel? How would I want them to explore the world?” and I expanded that imagination and wrote it.

But probably the feelings at the root of it are the same, and of course, the words and scenes that come out of me are there too, so I think it probably is something that exists within me. But if it were only my own feelings, I think, for me, it would only become something very small, something that was just self-satisfaction. So I wanted to create a “story with room left in it,” one that everyone could imagine.

Moderator: Are there any other reporters with questions?

Takagi: I saw “Otonal” again for the first time in a while…

Hanyu: Yes. Thank you.

Takagi: Could you tell us about the intention behind the structure and song choices in Part 1, and, if the timing of the Fourth [Ice Story] has been decided, could you tell us that as well?

Hanyu: I can’t say the timing of the Fourth yet, but there will be a fourth. That’s what this was for. (laughs)

“REALIVE” was structured from programs among “GIFT,” “RE_PRAY,” and “Echoes.” For example, from “Echoes,” there were “Mass Destruction” and “Utai.” From “RE_PRAY,” there were “MEGALOVANIA” and “Chicken, Snake, Pig.” And from “GIFT,” there was “Ano Natsu e,” and then, with “Otonal,” I hadn’t skated it [in an Ice Story], but I deliberately used that piece too. Since it was a song I was using even though I still hadn’t skated that program, I wanted to put in the surprise of skating “Otonal,” so I chose two pieces from “GIFT,” “Otonal” and “Ano Natsu e”… And then, in a sense, “SEIMEI” from “Prologue,” which was the starting point, so that’s how I put it together.

Really, it was almost all strong pieces, so it was extremely difficult, but especially this time, for the first time, there was only about a little over one minute between the first piece and the second piece. So I was doing something new, like not even taking off my skating boots, just changing quickly and going straight back out. So I was doing things that were really new technically as well, but the audience’s reactions felt really good, too, and although it was difficult, I felt like there was a point to working hard at it.

Reporter: In Part 2, “PREQUEL,” there’s that crystal-like character. I wanted to ask whether that child was something like a manifestation of hope, or whether they were a guide showing the way to learn about the outside world, or what exactly…

Hanyu: There is a way that I have in mind for how I would like people to see them, but I’d be happy if you could look at that child with a feeling like they are each person’s important person, or an important thing, or a feeling like an important “encounter.”

Reporter: [A different reporter] Thank you for your work. In “PREQUEL,” there’s the scene where white cloth comes down. How should we look at that scene?

Hanyu: As the original story, it’s very much an image of “wind.” There’s this feeling of climbing those stairs, and even while being cut through by the wind, not getting swept up in it, but pushing forward by your own will. So we had them create that as something like lines of wind stretched all around, and, additionally, because there’s also the element of entering the torii (gate), we wanted to bring out a sacred feeling as well… As you climb the stairs, it’s like gradually bringing your own heart toward something sacred. That kind of feeling is what we created that staging with.

Reporter: And for the Fourth, making use of the space…

Hanyu: It makes me nervous, though. (laughs) After all, it’s something that can only be done through the staging of an Ice Story, and I myself have really been looking forward to doing it. Since we can’t practice it until we actually enter the venue, there are various difficult things about it, but I’d be happy if you could enjoy that sense of scale and so on.

Reporter: [A different reporter] I wrote that you were going to hold the Fourth, but is that okay??

Hanyu: It’s okay. Yes, we will hold it.

Reporter: Could you tell us how it came about that Marihiko Hara would write original music for you?

Hanyu: Yes. This time, first of all, I had this feeling that I wanted to make the entire thing original. And within that, I thought, “Okay, then, who would I want to ask?” So, after creating the original story, I thought, “Maybe this person,” “Maybe this person,” and so on, and while discussing it with the direction team and the video team, and discussing it within the Ice Story team as well, we picked out several people. And then, from among them, I thought I wanted to ask Marihiko Hara, so I asked him.

Mr. Hara is really a very busy person, so I approached him with something like, “Even if it’s just one piece, or even two pieces…” But then Mr. Hara said that he wanted to write all of it. And he even went out of his way to write all of the music for the video parts as well, not just my parts. He’s giving color to the story that I wrote. He keeps adding more and more and more of that “color” of the tones, and he’s made it possible to feel that story through hearing. So even I myself, when I’m skating, feel really good—or, well, I guess… As the original author who wrote it, I’m able to skate while really feeling that story.

Moderator: I’m sorry, but we’ve reached our time, so we’ll bring this to an end.

Hanyu: Thank you very much. Please take care of me again.
[Applause from the assembled reporters.]

Thank you very much. Excuse me. The wind is strong, so please be careful. There was an earthquake, too, so please be careful.

---

[P. 64-65]

PHOTO STORY

Yuzuru Hanyu

SKATE & JOURNEY

Strong Wind and Vivid Memories.

Spoiler - Collapse to display content

April 11, 2026
Sekisui Heim Super Arena, Rifu, Miyagi Prefecture

Photos & text: Ryosuke Menju

“April 2026, Miyagi Prefecture…” Writing down the date of the assignment, I remembered something from a year ago. So, it’s already been a year since then.

April 2025. I was in Sendai, photographing an interview with Hanyu. As always, Hanyu responded to the shoot with a smile, and I thought I had captured his coolness in photographs, but for some reason, inside me there was a “me who couldn’t quite get into the shoot.” I remember getting on the plane from Sendai to my hometown of Osaka, carrying dark feelings all by myself…

April 11, 2026. I landed at Sendai Airport for the first time in a year. From there, I passed through the city and arrived at the place where Hanyu’s “skating” was happening. What greeted me at the venue were cherry blossoms in full bloom. In Osaka, the cherry blossoms had long since fallen, and yet in Tohoku, I suppose “the best was still to come.” And on this day, somehow, the wind was just too strong. I wonder if the spectators had a difficult time as well.

On this day, in Part 1, “REALIVE,” I was able to see some familiar performances. “Otonal,” the short program from the 2018–2019 season and then, partway through, the 2019–2020 season.

In late October 2019, at Skate Canada, Y and I from the editorial department went all the way to Kelowna, a tourist destination in Canada, on assignment. We had gone to report on Hanyu and the others’ competition.

In Canada, the wind had already become cold a little earlier than in Japan, and yet I remember the sunlight being quite strong during the daytime. And Kelowna, the city beside the lake, had an unusually strong wind. The wind was strong in Rifu on this day too, but seven years ago, Kelowna had also been a day of strong winds.

Back in 2019, at every competition I wanted to photograph Hanyu looking cool, so I would personally try “comparing shots” from about three different positions around the rink. For me, it was around this time that I was gradually beginning to understand what was interesting about figure-skating photography. Put simply, I enjoyed following Hanyu’s figure on the ice from a position close to the rink.

In contrast, Hanyu was going through a troubled period in 2019. I went back and reread the articles from that time, and he had been struggling with the astonishing gap between the “way things should be” with the judges and the “way things should be” with his own kind of skating.

Hanyu won Skate Canada, but in the end, from the beginning of the new year in the 2019–2020 season, he changed his short program to “Ballade No. 1” and his free program to “SEIMEI.”

On this day, when I saw Hanyu perform “Otonal” again for the first time in a long while, I thought, “Ah, he looks like he’s having fun.” Seeing Hanyu skating as though he were enjoying himself, I felt relieved. And I thought that having people see him skating while enjoying himself must be the most important thing of all for his fans.

The headline of the 2019 Magazine Skate Canada issue was:

“Yuzuru Hanyu, go down the path you believe in.”

That was the entire editorial department’s message.

Back then, and even now, I want to photograph Yuzuru Hanyu enjoying the competition. That is the conclusion I have arrived at, one year after April 2025.

Once, I was completely absorbed in trying to preserve Hanyu’s image from competitions in photographs. “Otonal” was a performance that made me remember that again, for the first time in a long while.

Machine translation, inaccuracies exist

[P. 66-71]

PHOTOGRAPHER TALK

“This is Yuzuru Hanyu.”

A photograph that made me nod deeply at ringside.

The magazine’s regular Photographer Talk. This time, the theme is: “This is what makes him Yuzuru Hanyu!”

We asked each photographer to share the memory behind one photograph in which they sensed his particular “Yuzuru-ness” at ringside.

Interview & composition: Shinichi Yamaguchi

Spoiler -Collapse to display content

Ryosuke Menju

Head of the Photography Department at Baseball Magazine Sha.

Born December 7, 1973 (I’m not lying).

From Osaka Prefecture.

After graduating from Doshisha University, he joined a company involved in the music industry. He subsequently attended a photography school in Tokyo and joined Baseball Magazine Sha in 2009.

In addition to covering track and field, swimming, tennis, soccer, and various other sports, he began photographing figure skating in the 2016–2017 season. He covered the 2018 PyeongChang Winter Olympics and the 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics.

Toru Yaguchi

Photographer.

Born August 30, 1977. From Kaminoyama, Yamagata Prefecture.

After graduating from Sophia University, he joined the Hochi Shimbun in 2002.

After working as a reporter, he transferred to the Photography Department in 2005.

He has worked on the front lines covering professional baseball as well as figure skating, and has also covered the FIFA World Cup and both the Winter and Summer Olympics.

He became an independent photographer in February 2023.

His major photo books include Yuzuru Hanyu 2019–2020, Yuzuru Hanyu 2021–2022, Yuzuru Hanyu, and Hane.

At this moment, Hanyu’s eyes welled up with tears. “I was just really glad.” —Menju

Interviewer: This time, the theme is “a photograph that brings out what makes Yuzuru Hanyu who he is.” Looking at the two of you chronologically, Menju-san has been photographing him for longer, right?

Menju: I guess so. I started seriously photographing figure skating in February 2017. In terms of the Olympics, I was fortunate enough to go to two of them: PyeongChang in 2018 and Beijing in 2022.

Yaguchi: I became responsible for figure skating in 2019. I knew about Hanyu-kun’s achievements before that, but I was surprised that fans were always talking about “Yuzuru Hanyu” on social media, and, moreover, that there were an overwhelming number of them. At the time, I asked my boss, “Would you make me the person in charge of figure skating?” And that's how I started taking photographs. I went to the 2022 Beijing Olympics, but if Hanyu-kun hadn't been there, I probably wouldn't have gone to the Winter Olympics at all.

Interviewer: Let’s look at each of the “one photographs” you chose. Menju-san’s photograph is from February 17, 2018, at the PyeongChang Olympics flower ceremony. You can sense both the joy and relief of Hanyu becoming Olympic champion for the second consecutive Games from his eyes and smile.

Menju: During the 2017–2018 season, I had been following Hanyu from around August, but then he got injured in January and missed three months of competition leading up to the Olympics. The year turned, February came, and the Olympics began. I was able to see Hanyu again at Incheon Airport after a long time, and he began practicing at the venue.

But, honestly, I think that Olympics began with this feeling of uncertainty: What was going to happen to Hanyu? Under those circumstances, he won the gold medal just one week after arriving at Incheon Airport. Being able to cover that there was a treasure for me.

Interviewer: This was the first Winter Olympics that Figure Skating Magazine had covered.

Menju: During the Olympics, I took photographs as a member of the Japan Magazine Publishers Association. Several photographers from the association were assigned to cover it, and during the competition, I was photographing from the stands. After the competition ended, from the flower ceremony onward, I was able to move down to ringside. Hanyu had the opportunity to pose for photographs holding the Japanese flag, and after that, he went around responding to the cheers from the fans. This is one of those photographs.

Interviewer: What were you feeling at the moment you took this photograph?

Menju: I had witnessed the moment he got injured, too, so I was thinking, I’m really glad. At this moment, Hanyu’s eyes welled up with tears. Of course, there must have been some difficult times on the way to reaching this day. But… I was just really glad.

Yaguchi: At the time, I was at the professional baseball spring training camps, but even in Japan, the news about Hanyu-kun was being covered extensively. He had also missed the Japanese Championships before PyeongChang… It’s hard to believe it was eight years ago already. You can sense a kind of purity from Hanyu-kun’s gestures, and I don't think that has changed even now. I understand why Menju-san chose this photograph.

Menju: I think that during his competitive career, Hanyu was very conscious of being watched by everyone, but I don't think there were all that many opportunities to see his “natural expression.” So one of the reasons I chose this photograph may also have been that it captured the ordinary expression of a 23-year-old young man.

Yaguchi: Where were you positioned?

Menju: On the left side of the short side. Even so, after the competition ended, there was a period when we were allowed to go down to ringside, so I found my own position there and took the photograph.

Interviewer: Even though Menju-san took such a great photograph, a different photograph was used for the cover.

Menju: Ahahaha. That's right. In the end, it was a judgment made after much hesitation, but I thought, “If there are photographs where 100 percent of his face is visible and photographs where it isn’t, wouldn’t the one where 100 percent of his face is visible be better as the cover of the Olympic issue?” But I had always thought that the page where this photograph would be needed would definitely come.

Menju: I know. It’s okay.

Yaguchi: But it really is a great expression, isn’t it? Truly. 

Yaguchi’s photograph was taken on March 12, 2023, on the final day of Notte Stellata in Rifu, during his performance of “Haru yo, Koi.”

Yaguchi: There’s ice in his hair, and on his face, too, isn’t there? This photograph is something that wasn’t controlled or, if you put it another way, I don’t think it’s “perfected beauty.” And yet, you can see that he is confronting the “performance,” and the “things Hanyu-kun wants to convey,” with everything he has. I like human expressions at moments like that. Notte in 2023 was performed over three days, and I don’t feel like there was this much intensity on the first and second days. I think this was a photograph where you could feel what Hanyu-kun was carrying, and the depth of his feelings.

Menju: You don’t often see Hanyu looking this completely covered in ice, either. “Haru yo, Koi” at Notte Stellata really has something that comes across to the people watching it, doesn’t it.

Interviewer: Both of you are from Tohoku, and perhaps that is why you can understand Hanyu’s feelings more deeply?

Yaguchi: I spent my high-school years in Sendai. But if you ask whether I had the same feelings as Hanyu-kun, I don’t know. I feel like perhaps I didn’t have the same feelings. At the time of the earthquake, I was in Tokyo, and after the earthquake happened, I went to Tohoku to cover it. But Hanyu-kun actually experienced the disaster himself, and the “things he carries” are different from what I carry. I think the “length of time, and weight” since the disaster are different for me and for him.

“I want to trace, through photographs, the true form of just how seriously he creates it.” —Yaguchi

Interviewer: When Hanyu was a competitive skater, what themes were the two of you photographing him with?

Menju: I wanted to photograph, as much as possible, everything Hanyu expressed… That was how I felt. While I was photographing him, I was constantly experiencing that sense of tension. And before photographing him, there was always preparation that had to be done. Looking back now, perhaps there wasn’t any other assignment besides Hanyu that required this much preparation beforehand.

Yaguchi: When I first started photographing Hanyu-kun, I wanted to “take beautiful photographs.” I wanted to take photographs that would look good on SNS, photographs that would make the fans happy. That’s what I was thinking. Now, I’m conscious of how I can “trace” Hanyu-kun’s feelings. What kind of feelings is Hanyu-kun doing this with? I want to express, through photographs, what he is thinking. That’s how I photograph him.

Menju: What Hanyu is thinking. Because that connects to his performance, you have to photograph the performance properly, too. And as a result, there were so many cool scenes. If there are so many of them, you want to capture all of them in the camera, don’t you?

Yaguchi: I think the same way as Menju-san. The state of someone’s heart appears in their expression. It becomes the form, or the facial expression.

Menju: As I photographed him, I naturally started thinking, “I wonder what Hanyu is thinking? Maybe he’s thinking something like this.” I’ve thought about it that way, but in the end, I didn’t know.

Interviewer: Yaguchi-san, you now photograph Hanyu as an official photographer for his shows. Have you discovered anything new through that?

Yaguchi: I started photographing Hanyu-kun in 2019, so my way of thinking may be different from people who photographed him before that, but I think that now he is able to perform while trusting the people who are watching him more. I think that may be connected to the freedom of his expression, and to the diversity of his expression.

Interviewer: Could you explain that in more detail?

Yaguchi: Even his skating—the extension, the smoothness, his dancing ability itself—I think it has improved, even from the perspective of an ordinary viewer. Precisely because there are people watching him, Hanyu-kun skates with the feeling of “I have to do more,” and that also connects to improvement in his technique. I like both “competition” and “shows.” Competitions have their own good points, after all. For me, I enjoy watching Hanyu-kun when he looks like he’s having a really good time, or when he looks happy.

Interviewer: In Yaguchi-san’s case, you worked at a sports newspaper and then became a freelancer, but I think there was also an aspect in which “Hanyu changed your life.”

Yaguchi: I feel that encounters with the people I photograph have had an influence on my own life. In that sense, without a doubt, Hanyu-kun was one of those people for me, too. As I’ve come to face Hanyu-kun through photography, what I’ve felt is that he has a very strong world of his own, and he really values it. At the same time, he responds to my requests, too. As another person who expresses things, he treats my opinions, and the opinions of the people around him, as important. And he also values the values of the people who are watching. Because Hanyu-kun himself is an “expressive artist,” I think perhaps that is why he can also respect the thoughts of others.

Menju: And even so, Hanyu has such a well-defined form as a photographic subject, doesn’t he? As a photographer, I can really tell that he uses his nerves all the way to the tips of his fingers. It’s almost like there are no “throwaway photographs.” Or, put another way, there are very few “photographs that can’t be used.” In my case, there’s a limit now to how many photographs I can publish from one show, so I can’t publish everything, but—

Yaguchi: With Hanyu-kun, I feel both his “appeal as a photographic subject” and his “appeal as a human being.” Whether when we’re facing each other for a shoot, or when he’s performing a program, Hanyu-kun completely trusts the people who are watching him, and the people who are facing the performance. For example, when we’re doing a portrait shoot, even when there isn’t anyone around other than me, he faces the shoot with everything he has.

Compared with Hanyu-kun, I personally feel that there are aspects where my own expression hasn’t caught up with his. But regardless of that, he gives me his expressions and movements while trusting me. I feel that this connects to what Menju-san was saying earlier about there being so few “throwaway photographs.” Hanyu-kun is always “carrying it himself.” Even if it doesn’t go well, because he is “carrying it himself,” he becomes stronger. The more I’ve worked together with Hanyu-kun through photography, the more strongly I’ve felt that.

Interviewer: Hanyu has finished his period of maintenance, and I think he will continue to pursue the world of skating even further. If you were to say something to Hanyu now, what would the two of you say?

Menju: In terms of expression, and skating technique, I think Hanyu still has a lot of things he wants to do. And even with maintenance, there may be places that don’t completely heal. This is a contradictory way of putting it, but even so, I want him to skate without injury. I suppose that would be the most important thing.

Yaguchi: Honestly, there isn’t anything I want to say to Hanyu-kun. But having watched Hanyu-kun throw himself into the world of shows, I feel that there are probably many things about his “true form” that aren’t being conveyed to the world. How seriously he creates each individual show. How much time he devotes to creating this expression. Earlier I said that I want to “trace his feelings,” but I have this feeling inside me that I want to try to convey to all kinds of people just how seriously he creates his shows, his true form in doing that.

Machine translation, inaccuracies exist

[P. 88-95]

With Members Who Know Each Other Well

ROUND TABLE DISCUSSION

Let’s Talk!

The beautiful silhouette that has come into view through maintenance.
“I came back powered up.”
Hanyu-san showed that in various ways.

Spoiler: collapse to display content

If we were to compare Figure Skating Magazine to a set meal of beef tongue, the “reporters’ round-table discussion” would be the main dish—the grilled beef tongue. This time, with reporter Yoshida joining them, they are talking to their hearts’ content.

Facilitation / Composition: Shinichi Yamaguchi
Photographs: Takao Sakai, Ryosuke Menju (Beijing Olympics = JMPA)

Participants (from right in the photograph):
Manabu Yoshida [Kyodo News, reporter]
Megumi Takagi [Hochi Shimbun, reporter]
Yoshiki Kogaito [Sports Nippon Newspapers, photographer]

“It’s been a full four years since I became a ‘pro,’ but the fans’ love is incredible.” —Takagi

—This time, with Yoshida-san joining us, let’s get the “reporters’ round-table discussion” started right away. Kogaito-san, you’re going to be covering the soccer World Cup this summer, aren’t you?

Kogaito: That’s right. I’m leaving on assignment four days from now.

Yoshida: I’m not going to the World Cup this time. I’ll be staying in Europe this summer and covering the International Olympic Committee’s General Assembly.

Takagi: Outside of covering Hanyu-san’s ice shows, I normally cover golf. I’m pretty much on the road every week. The mornings are early, and I walk about 10 kilometers a day, so it’s healthy, but on the other hand, I’m worried about getting sunburned. (laughs)

—Yoshida-san and Kogaito-san covered the Milan Olympics this February. What was your impression of the Games?

Kogaito: If I had to say one thing, it would be RikuRyu (Rikako Miura and Ryuichi Kihara). It got crazy exciting.

Yoshida: It really was amazing. A comeback from fifth place in the short program. The venue was wrapped in emotion.

Kogaito: But compared with Beijing, the atmosphere in the press room had changed, or rather… How did you feel about it, Yoshida-san?

Yoshida: In fact, it was tense right up through Beijing, wasn’t it?

Takagi: This time, I was in Tokyo writing the “follow-up” pieces (受け/uke), but hearing you talk about it makes me think back to PyeongChang and Beijing.

Yoshida: The reason the atmosphere changed from before Beijing was probably because Hanyu-san wasn’t there, after all. The moment Hanyu-san entered the venue, the air would change from what it had been before, and it was crucial not to miss a single thing he said, and to figure out how to work each of those comments into an article. There was a tremendous sense of tension, but there was also a sense of fulfillment once it was over. In the mixed zone, each reporter would think about what they should ask, and during group interviews, we would watch the other reporters’ breathing and then find our opening to ask a question. I’ve covered all kinds of things during the four years I’ve been in Europe, but I think my experience covering Hanyu-san was a major one for me.

—In the women’s singles, the victory of Alysa Liu of the United States was shocking. She had originally been a gold-medal candidate, but even on the Olympic stage, she approached it with “no pressure.” During the six-minute warm-up, she was waving at the spectators with a smile. She was the type of skater we hadn’t seen anywhere else.

Yoshida: “I don’t need a medal.” Those words became a huge topic of conversation, didn’t they?

Kogaito: Rather than competing over rankings, she was thinking about expressing herself. And then, a gold medal really did come along with that. She’s truly a “new-generation athlete.”

Yoshida: It was like this aura of the “joy of skating,” or something, was pouring out of her whole body… It was spreading through the competition, in a good way.

Kogaito: Ami Nakai, who came third, was also a new-generation athlete. She must have felt pressure herself, but judging from her performance, she skated happily, lightly. Standing between the winner, Alisa, and the third-place finisher, Nakai, was Kaori Sakamoto—an athlete of the more traditional mold. Sakamoto remained thoroughly stoic, fully embodying the mindset of a competitor focused on rankings. While Alisa and Nakai skated with evident joy, Sakamoto seemed to be shouldering a heavy burden, enduring immense pressure. Seeing her shed tears after her performance was truly heart-wrenching.

Yoshida: There was the Bali incident in the summer of 2024, and this time the Olympics were held in Milan. But before that, there was COVID, right? COVID spread, and the reality was that there were actually times when we couldn’t watch sporting events. I wonder whether, as a result of COVID, the public sentiment among spectators began to spread: “Let’s enjoy sports more,” or “Sports are, originally, something you’re supposed to enjoy.” And I think that has had an influence on the athletes, and, in turn, on the Olympics themselves.

—After the Olympics, in March, Kogaito-san held a photography exhibition of Hanyu at Ryosoku-in Temple in Kyoto (March 13–22). What was the impetus for that?

Kogaito: I had been thinking for some time that Hanyu-san and “wa”—the Japanese aesthetic—undeniably match, and that I wanted to express that somehow. Ryosoku-in has long been known as a temple that is open to art, and various artists have held exhibitions there. I’d had this feeling for a while that someday I wanted to exhibit my work there, too. But honestly, I also thought, “I want to do it, but there’s no way I’ll be able to.” I approached Ryosoku-in on the off chance that they might say yes, and I was fortunate enough to receive a favorable response.

Yoshida: Ohhh! So what did you do then?

Kogaito: Since I was going to be allowed to exhibit in such a wonderful place, I didn’t want it to be an exhibition where I simply lined up photographs. I borrowed the help of a scenographer who designs the overall layout and design of exhibitions, and I was extremely particular about the way the exhibition would be presented. Through the scenographer, I was introduced to Kyoto craftsmen, and we printed photographs on washi paper, printed them on lacquerware, made folding screens and hanging scrolls… By collaborating with the craftsmen, the world of expression expanded.

—Hanyu expands his own world through collaborations with prominent figures, and Kogaito-san, through your collaborations with craftsmen, you also drew out Hanyu’s unique world.

Kogaito: During the exhibition, I also went to Kyoto, and the visitors really picked up on how serious we were about it. The fans are always looking for something genuine. I was reminded of that once again.

—Kyodo News has been attracting attention with its specialized figure-skating site, hasn’t it?

Yoshida: We launched a paid site called Deep Edge Plus in November 2024. In 2025, we published a seven-part series called “Yuzuru Hanyu, Thinking”, and thanks to that, the number of members increased explosively. It was a series of conversations between Hanyu-san and a young philosopher, and we’ve received favorable responses, with people saying, “We got to see a new side of Hanyu-san.”

—Takagi-san, Hochi Shimbun has been putting a lot of effort into interviews with Hanyu. Starting July 19, you’re scheduled to publish a “Special Interview Commemorating Four Years Since Turning Pro.”

Takagi: The fans of Hanyu-san have an incredible amount of passion. Even when I’m writing an article, I can really, keenly feel that “love” with which they continue to support him. It’s been four years since he became a pro, and Ice Story is always sold out, and we’re also able to receive responses to our articles on SNS. Hanyu-san is of course amazing, but the fans are really amazing, too.

“I felt that he had powered up and come back from maintenance.” —Kogaito

—In March and April, Hanyu performed his ice shows. Regarding the condition of his right foot at Notte Stellata, Hanyu himself spoke about it directly in an interview with this magazine.

Yoshida: Ah, I see. We can’t see Hanyu-san’s ice shows in Europe, but I always read the articles online.

Kogaito: The thing I felt most strongly was that Hanyu-san hadn’t simply returned to his previous level. I felt that the maintenance period had brought him back at a level beyond that. Watching Notte Stellata, I could tell from the very first performance, “This is different.” There are movements that weren’t in his performances before, and I’m actually able to capture them in photographs, too.

—Specifically, what kinds of things?

Kogaito: For example, the Ina Bauer. The arrangement had changed, and it looked completely different from before.

—He spreads both arms, and then slowly crosses his hands. It looked like the movement of wings, more graceful than before, and I felt that the stability and strength of his body had increased.

Kogaito: It really was a beautiful silhouette, wasn’t it? The movements of his hands felt more delicate than before, and at the same time, I felt that his range of motion had expanded. The costumes were also more gorgeous in this show, and I felt like his feelings, his message, were coming through. “I’ve powered up and come back, you know.” I felt that he was trying to show that through various elements.

Takagi: As a show, aside from the opening celebration of the Xebio Arena Sendai in July 2025, this was the first one in a year, right? During the maintenance period, I could really feel that he had continued facing skating with the feeling of “I just want to get better.” And then, the people in the Tohoku Youth Orchestra aren’t, at this stage, people who make their living from music, right? Even so, they worked incredibly hard to create the show together with Hanyu-san. I think that one of Hanyu-san’s strengths is that he has his own words, but watching the meetings between Hanyu-san and the Tohoku Youth Orchestra, I found myself thinking, “Even if Hanyu-san had chosen teaching as his profession, I think he would have been a good teacher.” He’s just really good at communicating things. Of course, there’s his skating technique, but over the full four years since becoming a pro, he’s communicated with all kinds of people and exchanged opinions with them. I think the other kind of expression—the “expression that isn’t physical expression”—has matured as well.

Kogaito: I couldn’t go to the April ice show because I was there for another assignment, but speaking in terms of Notte Stellata, the guests up until now have been people who were older than Hanyu-san, haven’t they? But this time, the people were the young members of the Tohoku Youth Orchestra. I think I could feel from Hanyu-san’s words and actions an atmosphere of wanting to stand at the front and lead the team himself. There were words showing consideration for the Tohoku Youth Orchestra, and my impression was that he was looking broadly, looking at the people around him.

Kogaito: It’s a big stage, so you don’t want them to get all tense and rigid, or to become intimidated.

Takagi: When practice finished, Hanyu-san took the microphone and spoke, and he was sharing his interpretation of the music with the Tohoku Youth Orchestra. I thought, “Ah, he’s really good at expressing things…” I thought that unless he had listened to the piece an extraordinary number of times, he wouldn’t be able to come up with words like those. Anyway, this time Hanyu-san was somehow very gentle. He was gentler during the rehearsals with the Tohoku Youth Orchestra than when he was rehearsing alone.

Kogaito: He really was. Last year, when Mansai Nomura was the guest, it felt as though Nomura-san was the “older brother” and Hanyu-san was the “younger brother.” But this time, I think it felt like Hanyu-san was the “older brother,” creating the stage together with younger people.

—A month later, REALIVE and PREQUEL Before the WHITE were presented as a double bill. Takagi-san, how did you see them?

Takagi: First of all, I was happy to be able to see a performance of Otonal again after such a long time. And then, in the footage in REALIVE, there was a scene of Hanyu-san practicing. The moment he landed the quad toe loop, Hanyu-san spontaneously said, “Welcome back!” I think it was a scene where, if you were a fan watching it, you could understand, “So this is what this past year was all about.”

“Perhaps Beijing was where you could see him continuing to challenge himself the most.” —Yoshida

—All four of you covered the Olympics in PyeongChang in 2018 and Beijing in 2022. Of these, when it comes to the Beijing Olympics, how should we arrive at our conclusion about them?

Yoshida: I think there was also the option of winning gold at two consecutive Olympics in PyeongChang and then quitting. But personally, I think it was probably good that he continued through to the Beijing Olympics. I think there are moments you can only experience through competition, and thinking about “What is it that I want to do?”, I think that process of thinking may be something that is alive in his life now, too.

Takagi: If Sochi in 2014 was “the Games where Hanyu-san made his dream come true,” then I think PyeongChang was “the Games where Yuzuru Hanyu became Yuzuru Hanyu.” At the press conference the day after PyeongChang (February 18, 2018), he said, “My dream now is the quadruple Axel,” didn’t he? By declaring it, he spent the next four years thinking that he wanted to make it happen, that he wanted to achieve it. But Hanyu-san is someone who has always been particular about winning, so even when the people around him say, “It was wonderful,” or “It was a performance that stayed in my heart,” I wonder if there isn’t also a part of Hanyu-san himself that doesn’t feel that way.

Kogaito: Simply put, I’m sure the placing in Beijing was frustrating for him. No matter how much time passes, I don’t think that feeling of frustration will ever disappear.

Yoshida: He continued challenging the quadruple Axel for four years, and in the end, he didn't succeed. But young skaters have been watching that, haven't they? I think, actually, Beijing was where you could see Hanyu-san continuing to challenge himself the most. For Hanyu-san, fourth place at the Olympics may certainly be something he doesn't want to look back on. But having memories that you don't want to look back on, isn't that okay, too? I feel like… you don't have to show people only success.

—At the Beijing Olympics, during practice before the exhibition, there was that time when Hanyu performed programs from his past, wasn't there? (February 15, 11, and 18, 2022.) In particular, I can't forget the “nine songs” on the 18th.

Takagi: That moment was a happy time, wasn't it? On the first day (February 15), I think it was The Phantom of the Opera, but Hanyu-san made us feel this excitement of, “I wonder what program he'll show us today?” Rather than Beijing itself, at that time COVID was spreading throughout the world, and we were in a cramped, constricted space where we couldn't do things freely. I feel like only the second rink at the Capital Gymnasium was a place of “healing” for us.

—The spectator area at the second rink was incredibly cramped, and I still remember Takagi-san saying, “Yamaguchi-san, here's a chair,” and having me sit down. There were also conditions on going back and forth to the rink, and during Hanyu's official practice, there were so many reporters that some people couldn't even fit inside, weren't there?

Takagi: He didn't have to think about pacing himself, so Hanyu-san's steps were unbelievably fast, too… Kogaito-san, wasn't photographing him really difficult at the time?

Kogaito: Oh yeah, it was difficult. But the style Hanyu-san was doing at that time felt, in a sense, like “Ice Story: Episode Zero.” In a way, I feel like it became the basis for the Ice Stories we have now. In the Ice Stories, he does both past programs and new programs, all the way through by himself, right? I feel like that style in Beijing connects to what he is doing now. As Takagi-san said, there were a lot of difficult things about the Beijing Olympics, weren't there? But during those practices, even we were there with the feeling of spectators, looking forward to, “I wonder what he'll show us today?” Certainly, I feel like those were something like a gift from Hanyu-san.

Machine translation, inaccuracies exist

[P. 72-73]

SKATE & JOURNEY

Along the Way.

February 2017
Meeting “Yuzuru Hanyu” in Gangneung, and then....

Spoiler- Collapse to display

Text: Shinichi Yamaguchi
Photos: Ryosuke Menju

If you look at the date on the photograph, it says: February 17, 2017, 11:33 a.m. One year before the PyeongChang Olympics. Come to think of it, one year later, on February 7, would be the day Yuzuru Hanyu would be crowned a two-time consecutive Olympic gold medalist.

In 2017, the Four Continents Championships were being held in Gangneung, the venue for figure skating at the PyeongChang Olympics—a rehearsal of sorts for what would take place one year later. During the daytime on February 17, the official practice for that evening's men's short program was held.

The people who went to Gangneung to cover it were me and photographer Ryosuke Menju. On the night we arrived, we decided to have Korean-style dinner and went out for yakiniku. It was over that meal that we came up with a new project for Figure Skating Magazine: SKATE & JOURNEY.

For Menju, the Four Continents Championships were only his second time photographing figure skating. His first had been at an ice show held in Osaka; this was his first time covering an actual competition.

What would Yuzuru's movements and expressions look like when witnessed from the photographer's position at rinkside, rather than from the spectator stands or press seats? The idea behind SKATE & JOURNEY was to express that through the photographs and writing of the photographer who had actually captured those moments.

It was a project I'd wanted to do for quite some time, but it was difficult to get photographers to agree. Everything I want to express is already in the photographs themselves. So why deliberately put it into words? I could understand the photographers' reasoning, too.

Menju was the photographer who took on that role, beginning with only his second time covering figure skating. And from then on, the SKATE & JOURNEY series continued in various places all over the world.

Not only around Japan, but Moscow, Russia; Oakville and Kelowna, Canada. We went to Turin, Italy, too, and when the World Championships were held in Stockholm, Sweden, COVID meant that my application for media accreditation wasn't approved, so Menju flew all the way to Scandinavia by himself. After reporting on the fierce battles on the ice, during his quarantine stay at the COVID hospital he also made himself useful as a “bento photographer.”

When I collapsed in July 2022, Menju was also the one who wrote me a letter saying, “Let's keep at it together.” Whenever Magazine was in a difficult spot, he was always there supporting the magazine, both behind the scenes and out in front.

Menju, who had worked so hard for so long as Magazine's ace photographer, became Head of the Photography Department this June. He told me, “I intend to keep going out on assignments,” but I suppose it won't be quite so easy for him to do that anymore.

Of course, there may be times when his schedule happens to line up perfectly and we can say, “Menju-san, we'll be counting on you again,” but ordinarily, it looks like we'll be having other photographers take their turn.

Menju-san, for now, thank you for all your hard work.
SKATE & JOURNEY—until somewhere, in some city, again.

Photo caption
At the Four Continents Championships in February 2017, Yuzuru Hanyu arrived at official practice before the short program completely in the mood and having a blast. That became Menju-san's decisive “first impression,” and from then on, the two continued their travels together.

Machine translation, inaccuracies exist

[P. 74-83]

notte stellata 2026

March 7, 2026
Sekisui Heim Super Arena, Rifu, Miyagi

For Tohoku's “youth,” and its “future.”

Fifteen years have passed since the Great East Japan Earthquake.

Every year, notte stellata is held in spring.

This year, local musicians have taken the stage as “co-performers.”

The Tohoku Youth Orchestra, made up mainly of university and high school students.

The sounds of the young musicians, filled with a sense of fresh vitality, and the skating.

They made you feel that a great future awaits Tohoku.

Spoiler- Collapse to display

Text: Shinichi Yamaguchi
Photos: Toshiaki Yano

“notte stellata.”

Before the stars begin to shine in the night sky.

It is approaching dusk at Sekisui Heim Super Arena in Rifu, Miyagi. A little after 5 p.m., the venue, which has swallowed up approximately 6,500 people, goes dark.

A “message” from Hanyu reaches the audience.

March 11, 2011. The Great East Japan Earthquake occurred. Buildings in the town collapsed, and a huge tsunami came rushing in. I was 16 years old.

My town, the place where I lived, was being destroyed.

After the sun went down, the city of Sendai was pitch-black because of the power outage. I was afraid, and I was in despair.

At that moment, I looked up at the sky—

(The penlights held by the audience begin to emit dazzling light.)

And there, in the darkness, a beautiful starry sky was shining.

Fifteen years since the disaster. “A night when the stars fall.”

With hope placed in notte stellata.

Next, Hanyu's program “notte stellata” is performed. During the latter half of the music, the skaters who will fill the stage begin to appear.

Rika Hongo
Takato Mura
Keiji Tanaka
Akiko Suzuki
Violetta Afanasieva
Jason Brown
Shae-Lynn Bourne-Turok
Satoko Miyahara
Javier Fernandez

And at the end of the opening, the show's leader, Hanyu, gracefully dances through a spin. Then he takes the microphone and offers his greeting:

Everyone, thank you very much for coming to notte stellata 2026.

(The skaters bow.)

The words “notte stellata” mean “a sky full of stars.”

On March 11, 2011, electricity and gas, all kinds of lifelines, were cut off, and in a sense, as various communities were destroyed by the tsunami and earthquake disaster, as the connections between people and people were gradually being broken, when I looked up at the sky, there was something… a feeling like… hope, perhaps…

It wasn't something I could express with such a clear word. It was just a small feeling, but I received some kind of strong feeling from it.

Just as there is a starry sky here backstage now, beginning with the lights that all of you are holding, I hope that each and every one of us, each and every one of the skaters, can become even just a little bit of a “star of hope” for all of you.

And precisely because 15 years have now passed, just as we did back then, I want this to be a performance where, by bringing together each person's strength, when all of you go home, even if you haven't exchanged words, you can feel, even just a little, a “circle”; you can feel a bond between you.

Please, until the very end, take your time and enjoy the show.

Hanyu bowed once more.

And then, as though a swan were dancing, he returned backstage.

At the climax of Part 2, Hanyu performed to “Yae no Sakura,” composed by Sakamoto-san, once again accompanied by the Tohoku Youth Orchestra.

Photo caption

The final piece of Part 1 was “Happy End,” composed by Ryuichi Sakamoto and performed by the Tohoku Youth Orchestra.

Hanyu, dressed in white, lies on the ice and finally manages to get back up.

The impression is the exact opposite of the title “Happy End.”

A spin repeated over and over, as though depicting the anguish within the heart.

It was a performance that left a deep impression.

Photo caption

“I created the piece by overlapping the image of a protagonist who lived through a turbulent era with the image of Japan, which suffered enormous damage in the Great East Japan Earthquake and has been moving forward toward regeneration.”

After finishing the performance, Hanyu strikes a pose as he puts the sword back into its sheath.

There was something about it that brought to mind a continuation of the free skate “Heaven and Earth,” his final program in competition.

Fifteen years ago, the sky Hanyu quietly looked up at became a sky full of stars watched over by many people.

The finale, “Song of Hope,” was performed by Hanyu and his fellow skaters, ten people in total.

Afterward, Hanyu took the microphone once again.

So, with it being March 7, “Yuzuru Hanyu notte stellata 2026”—that brings all of the programs to an end. Everyone, thank you so much for watching over us, and for enjoying yourselves.

As March 11 once again gets closer like this, we naturally start thinking about all sorts of things, and also about how precious life is, and how there are so many moments when we can all laugh together like this, when we can listen to a live performance like this, when we can hear the breath of live instruments, when we can hear the breath of skaters performing live. I think there are really so many moments when, each in our own way, we can feel “life” (sei).

And as I look at all the various circumstances happening around the world right now, I think about how these things really aren't “a given” at all. And I truly thought the same thing on March 11 fifteen years ago.

The young strength that is here with us, and the strength of those who come from Tohoku as well—I think they have really, truly experienced all kinds of things and made it this far. How did everyone think of the Tohoku Youth Orchestra's performance?

(A huge round of applause fills the venue.)

Hehehe. Right? It was wonderful, wasn't it? Yeah.

(The applause does not stop.)

I'm sure there are people who shed tears, too. There are probably people who were moved, and people who felt, “I got some energy from that.”

That we were all able to become one like this; please don't ever, ever forget that. And of course, I hope you'll continue to help along the road toward recovery, and also, for the wounds each of you carries in your hearts, and for those times in your various lives when you think, “This is hard or “This is painful,” I hope that we too have done our best to leave behind something that can be one small source of help.

Please don't forget it, and continue on from here.

And please, cherish the “life” you have now, cherish your health, and go home safely today. Thank you so, so much for today.

(All ten together) Thank you very much!

Fifteen years ago, the starry sky reflected in the eyes of a boy who looked up at it in March 2011 had become a “sky full of stars” watched over by many people, and by people younger than Hanyu himself.

Photo caption

A collaboration between “young people who love music” and “an older brother who's good at skating.”

This year's special guest at notte stellata was the Tohoku Youth Orchestra. The orchestra collaborated with the skaters throughout both Part 1 and Part 2. The photograph shows Hanyu collaborating with them on “Yae no Sakura.”

Composed by Ryuichi Sakamoto, it is a piece to which the orchestra members have a particularly strong personal attachment.

(March 7, 2026 · Sekisui Heim Super Arena · notte stellata 2026)

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[P. 84-87]

Tohoku Youth Orchestra
A collaboration between “young people who love music” and “an older brother who's good at skating.”

This year's special guests at notte stellata 2026 were young people from Tohoku who are pursuing music.

The Tohoku Youth Orchestra, which brings together members ranging from elementary school students to university students.

What was it, exactly, that made these young musicians stir such passionate feelings in the skaters they collaborated with?

Spoiler- Collapse to display

Interview & text: Shinichi Yamaguchi
Photos: Toshiaki Yano
Photo cooperation: Tohoku Youth Orchestra

A chance to perform at Grandy—especially if it's something Hanyu-san wants…

The news was announced suddenly. It was only a week into 2026. The date was January 7.

“Announcement regarding Yuzuru Hanyu notte stellata 2026: The Tohoku Youth Orchestra will be appearing as special guests. Please look forward to this spectacular collaboration.”

The Tohoku Youth Orchestra was established as a general incorporated association in March 2014.

Its members are recruited through open applications. Basically, its members live in the three prefectures of Iwate, Miyagi, and Fukushima, and consist of university students, high school students, middle school students, and elementary school students in third grade or above. At present, they hold joint rehearsals once a month in Fukushima Prefecture, as well as training camps at other times.

The orchestra's website says:

“We see this as a place where the children of Tohoku can learn about the world through instruction and performances by outstanding musicians, as well as through interactions with people they would not normally have the opportunity to meet, and grow through experiences shared with many friends.”

It also states:

“We aim for the vitality of the children to give vitality to the adults around them, the local communities as a whole, and Tohoku as a whole, and to create a new future.”

There is potential in the children of Tohoku and their possibilities through music. And there was someone who made that “instruction and performances by outstanding musicians” possible. That person was Ryuichi Sakamoto, who was active as a composer and pianist, as well as a music producer. The Tohoku Youth Orchestra (hereafter TYO) was established in March 2014, taking over from the Children's Music Revival Fund, which had been established in 2011. Sakamoto had long been active as a social activist and had also devoted himself to supporting reconstruction in Tohoku. His role with TYO was “director.” Several times a year, Sakamoto personally provided instruction to the members.

Every March, the orchestra holds a concert in Tokyo. Since TYO is primarily made up of students, some members reach a turning point of employment or further education around the time of this concert. Two days after the March 2023 concert, Sakamoto died of illness. It is said that he had watched over the members through video, from the rehearsals immediately before the concert all the way through the actual performance.

TYO continued its activities after that, and as of August 2026, it is practicing with members from its 12th cohort. Then the opportunity to perform at notte stellata 2026 came to TYO. A member of the TYO administrative office told us about how it came about.

“At first, we were approached by the television station handling the administration for notte stellata. They said, ‘This year marks 15 years since the earthquake. Would it be possible for the Tohoku Youth Orchestra, which has such a deep connection to Tohoku, to appear?’ Since we already have a concert in March, you could say the schedule was difficult, but for Tohoku Youth, this was also a chance to perform at Grandy 21 (the nickname for Sekisui Heim Super Arena and the other sports facilities). According to what the people from the television station told us, Hanyu-san had also said that, this time, he would like to do it together with Tohoku Youth… If Hanyu-san wanted us to do it, then there couldn't be anything more of an honor for Tohoku Youth, so we decided that we would be happy to take part.”

The offer came in the autumn of the previous year. From there, the plans apparently moved forward at a rapid clip.

“Everyone was able to become one like this. Please never, ever forget that.”

Two members of TYO talked to us about their activities: Aiko Chiba and Minami Suzuki. Chiba-san graduated from TYO at the March concert and is now in her first year as a working adult. Suzuki-san, who is one academic year below her, is currently a fourth-year music university student and is also a member of TYO's first cohort. Suzuki-san is scheduled to graduate from university next spring, and will graduate from TYO at the same time.

notte stellata 2026 was put together just three weeks before this year's concert. The four days from March 6, including rehearsals, were special days for the two of them, and for all the members who took part. On March 7, 8, and 9, the audiences gathering at Sekisui Heim Super Arena filled the venue to its capacity of 6,500 people each day. It was the first time TYO had ever performed in front of such a large audience.

Chiba: “Everyone in the audience was holding penlights, and the sight of that really surprised me at first. I wasn't particularly nervous, but I was a little worried about how cold the venue would be.”

Suzuki-san, meanwhile, said:

Suzuki: “When Hanyu-san jumped, I could feel the energy of more than 6,500 people. I thought, ‘There must be more than 10,000 people in the venue.’”

At concerts, the audience applauds after each piece comes to an end. But at an ice show, cheers erupt while the orchestra members are playing, as jumps and spins take place on the ice. That is the real appeal of the “collaboration” between sports and music. 

On the day of the notte stellata performances, the ice show began with Hanyu's skating.

TYO appeared in the latter half of Part 1. An introduction to the orchestra was given over the venue announcement system, and approximately 50 of TYO’s 90 members came onstage. The performance began under the baton of Yuki Takai. TYO’s first piece was Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence. It is the theme song from the 1983 Japanese-British-New Zealand co-produced film Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence. This piece, whose piano tones are particularly striking, was composed by Mr. Sakamoto, who also appeared in the film. It is one of Mr. Sakamoto’s representative works, and in that same year it also won the Academy Award for Best Original Score.

Next came the collaboration with Hanyu, Happy End. This, too, was a piece Sakamoto created in 1981, and in 2005, a self-cover of it was released. For this year’s ice show, the 2005 version was used in the program.

When the intermission ended, Part 2 began. TYO’s performance started with the very first piece. Sakamoto’s Little Buddha. Released in 1994 as part of the soundtrack for the film, it was performed in collaboration with Shae-Lynn Bourne-Turok, Satoko Miyahara, Akiko Suzuki, Keiji Tanaka, and Takato Mura.

Their third appearance was in the latter half of Part 2. The piece they performed was Yae no Sakura. This, too, was composed by Sakamoto, as part of the soundtrack for the 2013 NHK historical drama Yae no Sakura. Yae no Sakura has as its protagonist the daughter of a master instructor of the Aizu domain during the period from the final years of the shogunate through the Meiji era. According to NHK, they had initially been considering airing a different work, but because the Great East Japan Earthquake occurred in 2011, they changed it to a drama set in Tohoku.

The program was once again a collaboration between Hanyu and TYO. TYO performed a piece by Sakamoto connected with Tohoku, while Hanyu, who is from Tohoku, performed. This year’s notte stellata reached its climax with music that could hardly have been more fitting.

Chiba-san described the notte stellata stage in these words:

“I think collaborating with Hanyu-san was something that had an enormous amount of meaning for someone from Sendai. Throughout the rehearsals and the actual performances, Hanyu-san really engaged with Tohoku Youth’s music. I think these were three days that we spent while feeling a sense of responsibility for playing our instruments here as well. 

For me, this was the first time I had ever watched figure skating up close. I think I could feel Hanyu-san’s thoughts about the music coming through. I felt it firsthand: conveying something through skating.”

Suzuki-san expressed her memories of Hanyu this way:

“Hanyu-san listened to the audio source over and over again, and he would ask the Youth members, ‘What should we do here?’ He would say, ‘As for the meaning of this piece, this is how I think about it.’ As I listened to Hanyu-san talking, I think the resolution of the piece gradually became higher for me.

‘Here, it continues without changing, like the sound of a heartbeat, and then this sound is layered on top of it, and then the next sound is layered on top of that…’ Hanyu-san explained things in really easy-to-understand words. Everyone in the Youth Orchestra was also performing with the feeling of, ‘This is the kind of emotion we should play this scene with.’”

Suzuki-san’s memories continued:

“After Hanyu-san finished skating Yae no Sakura, he made the pose of putting his sword away. Watching that scene, I thought that skaters must skate each piece with a different set of feelings.”

Following Yae no Sakura, which filled the venue with excitement, came the finale, Song of Hope, preceded by TYO’s introduction. The show closed with Sakamoto’s ETUDE as the curtain call.

At the end of the show, Hanyu took the microphone and called out to the audience:

“How did you find the performance by everyone in the Tohoku Youth Orchestra? It was wonderful, wasn’t it? I think there were probably people who shed tears. I think there were also people who were moved, and people who felt like they received some energy from it. That we were all able to become one like this, I hope we’ll never, ever forget that—”

The applause inside the venue continued without end at Hanyu’s words, spoken with emotion.

“Life in the Youth Orchestra is alive in me now. What matters is not stopping reconstruction.”

I’d like to continue with the stories of the two TYO members, Chiba-san and Suzuki-san. I feel that, through their words, we begin to see the landscapes of TYO, and of Tohoku itself.

Spoiler- Collapse to display

Chiba-san, now 23, was originally from Sendai. On March 11, 2011, she learned about the Great East Japan Earthquake while living in England. She was in the first grade of elementary school.

“There’s a nine-hour time difference between England and Japan (during winter time), but when the earthquake happened, it was morning in England. I turned on the BBC news, and there was news about the earthquake in Japan. It’s normally unthinkable in England for Japan to be on television, and especially Sendai or Fukushima. My friends in England, and their parents too, were all worried about Japan. Actually, my grandfather and grandmother were living in Sendai. People in England worried about Japan. I still don’t want to forget that.”

A year after the disaster, Chiba-san had returned to Sendai. It was at a time when the roads were still badly damaged and uneven.

“What shocked me most was that the park where I had been able to play before the disaster was off-limits. The radiation levels had risen, and the parks where the levels exceeded the limits could no longer allow people in.I think it wasn’t until I entered middle school that the restrictions were lifted.”

Before going to England, Chiba-san had lived in Fukushima Prefecture. She began learning the violin when she was three.

“In Fukushima, there are a lot of people who play instruments who belong to orchestras. One of my close friends played the viola, and that friend was a member of Tohoku Youth Orchestra’s first cohort. My friend invited me, and I joined the Youth Orchestra as a second-cohort member when I was in my first year of middle school.”

Suzuki-san’s hometown is Rifu, where Grandy 21 is located. “3.11” happened just before she entered elementary school.

“The earthquake happened two weeks before my kindergarten graduation ceremony. The place where we had planned to hold it could no longer be used, so we weren’t able to have our graduation ceremony together. On the day of the earthquake, the lifelines had stopped. Even if we wanted to eat, we couldn’t use electricity, and we couldn’t use gas. That night, my family ended up sleeping in the car. People in the neighborhood gave us udon, or shared their rice with us… I still remember, even as a child, how warm that felt.”

Suzuki-san began learning the violin when she was six. But because the earthquake caused the hall to be closed, she had no choice but to change classes.

“My violin teacher changed too, and it was from my new teacher that I heard about the establishment of Tohoku Youth Orchestra. I joined Tohoku Youth when I was in fifth grade. I’m a first-cohort member of the Youth Orchestra. The Youth Orchestra rehearsals were in Fukushima City. At first, I used to travel to rehearsals from Sendai by bus. At the time, there were no other means of transportation available except buses. Partway through, we switched to the Shinkansen.”

At the time, how many children living in Tohoku were there who were “children with nothing to do with the disaster”? Living their everyday lives while encountering the “scars left by the disaster” here and there, the two continued as members of TYO.

As mentioned earlier, Chiba-san graduated from university this spring and has now taken her first step into working life as a business turnaround consultant. Her current base is Tokyo. Even so, she apparently has clients in disaster-affected areas as well.

“I think my life in Tohoku Youth Orchestra is alive in the work I do now, too. The orchestra often visits disaster-affected areas, and when I actually went to those places, even 15 years after the earthquake, I felt that the places that had not recovered still had not recovered… That one day, that single tsunami, changed everyone’s lives. Maybe that is something that cannot be avoided, but I think what matters is not letting the movement toward reconstruction stop. That’s also why I chose this work as a consultant. I hope I can be of help to the people of Tohoku.”

Suzuki-san is currently a fourth-year student at a music university. Next spring, a new life as a working adult awaits her.

“I’ve been doing music at Tohoku Youth Orchestra, and when I think about what kind of work I want to do after graduation, I want to work in a job that supports people who play instruments. That’s what I’ve come to think. When I was in high school, I was constantly worrying about where I should go to university. In the Youth Orchestra, I had always watched the concertmaster’s movements, and one day I realized it. Ah, I want to do music. Once I thought that, I went on to a music university.”

Concertmaster. In short, the “concertmaster” is the leader who brings together the orchestra’s overall tone and timing, and serves as a bridge between the conductor and the orchestra members.

“I realized this after entering music university, but among the students, there are people who experience an orchestra for the first time only after entering university. I had been doing orchestra with the Youth Orchestra since elementary school. So there were quite a lot of points I noticed, and I feel like there were many things I understood.”

Even among people who continue with music all the way through university, not many go on to pursue a career in music after graduation. No, in reality, it seems to be an extremely small number.

According to an explanation from someone at the TYO office, “The number of alumni who have entered professional orchestras can be counted on one hand.” Even after becoming a professional, it seems, an equally demanding world awaits.

Suzuki-san, for whom this season is her final year with TYO, says:

“The Youth Orchestra has taken care of me for 11 years, and this is my second year as a senior member. It’s more than half of the time I’ve been alive, but I also feel like… how did it pass so quickly? In this final year, more than anything, I don’t want to have any regrets. I want the elementary and middle school students to think that being in the Youth Orchestra is fun. Because I thought it was fun being able to be together with the older girls and boys.”

I repeat those words in my mind. The “purpose of activities” of the Tohoku Youth Orchestra:

“A place for growth, where, through interactions with people one would not ordinarily meet, one learns about the world and experiences things together with many friends. To give vitality to Tohoku as a whole and create a new future.”

But perhaps there isn’t a single member who has not, in one way or another, become that.

“How did you find the performance by everyone in the Tohoku Youth Orchestra? It was wonderful, wasn’t it? I think there were probably people who shed tears.”

notte stellata, March 7. Yuzuru Hanyu let out an involuntary cry. At that moment, had the people of Tohoku Youth Orchestra noticed that Hanyu himself had tears welling in his eyes?

Machine translation, inaccuracies exist

[P. 97]

Meeting 5:00 p.m. @1st-floor meeting room

Not Running Away from “Suffering.”

Text: Shinichi Yamaguchi
Photos: Takao Sakai

Spoiler- Collapse to display

Finally. Finally, I was able to go to Sendai.

Ever since I became ill four years ago, it had become difficult for me to “go somewhere far away.” Even when I was able to go somewhere, I didn't have the physical strength to work afterward. In short, I didn't have confidence in myself. This time, I had decided, “I'm going to Sendai.” Before leaving, I was depressed; after going, I was completely exhausted. Once I got home, my legs were sore with muscle pain, and I ended up in bed for a week. But I'm glad I went to Sendai. Because along with the scenery of the journey, various feelings came back to me.

◇ ◇ ◇

For the first time in a long while, I was able to interview Yuzuru Hanyu while “looking at his face.” “If only I could get back to the body I had before I became ill… I think that quite often.” After I had spoken, Hanyu said:

“I think seeking hope is something very human, but it’s more like… in the end, I feel like we remember the times when we suffered more, you know. I think I’ve lived this way, forcing myself to do it. I’ve fought this way, forcing myself to do it, and I feel like I’ve lived this way, forcing myself to do it.”

Something came back to me. It was an episode about Hanyu that Yaguchi-san had told us about in last year's “Photographer Talk” in this magazine.

“I started going around that way from early on. That's all.”

That was how Hanyu answered Yaguchi-san's question, apparently. Hanyu always gives everything he has. Not for himself, but for other people. Why in the world is that? He has followed his way of living consistently for many years. Since his early teens, or perhaps even earlier. And even now, that has not changed.

◇ ◇ ◇

At my next birthday, I will turn 60. When I was 50, I was covering the World Championships in Helsinki, and I witnessed Hanyu come from behind to win. It's hard to believe, but almost 10 years have passed since then. What should I do about Figure Skating Magazine? I had been working as a freelancer for ten years, and with people having moved on since that time as well, I had thought, “Maybe this would be a good point to draw a line.” I was thinking that I would make one final trip to Sendai and say to Hanyu, “Thank you very much!” But that thought changed when I went to Sendai. It was because of Hanyu's words in the interview.

“Isn't everyone like that? Even while they're suffering, they're fighting. Living is painful. Everyone is suffering in order to live.”

“I feel like I've spent all this time doing just that—suffering—and I think I've fought by not running away from that suffering, but by using it as nourishment.”

They were questions related to the Beijing Olympics, but somehow, his words felt as though he could see straight through my heart.

What are you trying to be so cool about?

I could hear the voice of Mitsuyo-san, the imaginary reader inside my heart. That's right. As long as there are people who read it, I should continue Magazine.

◇ ◇ ◇

In this issue's reporters' round-table discussion, the words of photographer Yoshiki Kogaito stayed with me.

This spring, Kogaito-san held a Hanyu photography exhibition at a temple in Kyoto. As he continued taking on challenges as a photographer, there must naturally have been “hardships” that he couldn't tell other people about. But he deliberately kept silent about that part, and had no choice but to find his own way forward. By solving things himself, in the end, that becomes something for himself. It becomes his own confidence.

Thank you very much for reading this issue of Figure Skating Magazine as well. Looking forward to the day when we can meet again in the next issue, I will continue living from here on.

Photo caption

Hanyu Yuzuru repeatedly and repeatedly made the pose of serving a cake to the customer—namely, me. “Because, you know, I've been doing photography since I was a teenager.” It was just an offhand remark, but for some reason, it left a particularly strong impression on me.