[2025.02] Echoes of Life 'THE BOOK' - Yuzuru Hanyu interview
[Writing the Original Story]
— Echoes began with the story being written first, correct?
This time, right from the start, I had a very, very strong desire to create a story that is not Hanyu, but about a new character named Nova. I wanted to build ICE STORY around that. And since I was going to do it, I wanted to go all in and see it through completely. So I thought through the setting in great detail, like what kind of sounds should surround someone like Nova? These were things I had to consider when choosing music. Of course, there are a lot of elements in the setting that aren’t actually shown in the final work, but having all of that detail helped me get closer to Nova emotionally while creating the story. It allowed me to think deeply: What kind of child is Nova? What is the guide (the narrator) thinking? What did Itsuna (VGH-127) leave behind…?
— In your mind, what kind of child is Nova?
That child... When I was writing the story, I intentionally designed his personality so that it could appear different depending on who’s watching and from what perspective. To me, he’s very lonely. Even though he hates fighting, he’s unexpectedly good at it. He always says he really doesn’t want to fight, and yet he fights so coolly. I think that’s because he understands the mission and meaning behind his existence, and has the strength to accept it. It might sound strange coming from me—the person playing him—but in Goliath, when he has to fight his own shadow, his emotions shift every time. Sometimes during the fight he’s thinking, “I have to destroy every shadow or the world will end,” but other times, even though he’s filled with negative feelings like “I really don’t want to do this,” his body is so used to fighting that he ends up doing it anyway, almost out of resignation.
In the storybook, there isn’t much description of Nova’s personality. It’s only in the visual representation that you see subtle things, like a change in his expression when he touches a flower. But in the written story itself, there’s no description of those expressions. I intentionally wrote it that way so that the viewer’s own emotions could be reflected onto Nova.
[My Philosophy of Figure Skating = The Piano]
— The Piano Collection in the first act was absolutely spectacular!
This time, when I thought, “If I’m going to make philosophy the theme, then what is my philosophy of figure skating?” What came to mind, as expected, was the piano. I felt that expressing classical piano to its fullest is the foundation of my figure skating. From the beginning, I had been thinking about creating an approximately 8-minute-long continuous piano-only performance.
At one point, I even considered that since I’d be consistently highlighting the piano, maybe I didn’t need to include “Ballade no. 1” after all. But as I began developing the story, laying out each thematic element one by one, I realized: “This part absolutely has to be 'Ballade no. 1’.” Moreover, it had to be the version that was skated at the Pyeongchang Winter Olympics, with the second half progressing layer by layer with intensity. Anything less just wouldn’t be acceptable to me. At first, I thought this program might be a little easier. After all, in “Dark Messenger” from RE_PRAY, I landed three quads, almost like a free skate, including two in the second half. But this time, the cancellation of the six-minute warm-up and the fact that the Piano Collection didn’t serve as a warm-up the way I had hoped for had a major impact on me. The Piano Collection was originally designed to serve the role of the six-minute warm-up. But in the end, it turned into a segment that had to be prepared in darkness and skated under intense pressure, where absolutely no mistakes or missed notes were allowed, all while gradually draining my physical energy.
— Why did the Piano Collection turn into such a physically and mentally demanding segment?
If I’m going to perform in sync with the music, then something half-baked, like just going through the motions, obviously wouldn’t cut it. And since this part is labeled as “Philosophy,” I absolutely couldn’t go easy on it. Plus, with the incredible music that Kiyozuka created for me, if I wanted my performance to resonate with his piano, I had no choice but to give it everything I had. Looking back on it now, that’s how I feel.
— In your conversation with Kiyozuka, the discussion about the order of the fourth and fifth pieces in the Piano Collection was really interesting.
The fourth piece is Chopin’s Étude Op. 25, No. 12 in C minor, often called “Ocean.” It’s in C minor and is the final piece in the set of 12 études—so it gives a sense of closure. C minor, in particular, carries a feeling of “the end.” But in the Piano Collection, there’s a fifth piece that comes after it. That fifth piece is Chopin’s Étude Op. 10, No. 4 in C-sharp minor, known as “Torrent.” Being in C-sharp minor, it feels more like “a beginning from here.” So Kiyozuka and I debated this for quite a while. In the end, I decided it would be cooler to use the fourth piece (Op. 25-12 in C minor) for the spin section and the fifth piece (Op. 10-4 in C-sharp minor) for the step sequence. That arrangement just had more impact. Plus, Ballade No. 1 would follow after that anyway. So we ultimately settled on the order: 25-12, then 10-4.
— Indeed, the C minor piece has a sense of ending.
Yes, exactly! That “DUN—” at the end of the fourth piece makes you feel like, “Ah… it’s like a god really just ascended.” Even if you don’t understand music at all, somehow you still get caught up in that emotional pull. I find it really fascinating that music can give people such similar impressions from certain frequencies. Long before humans had language or writing, music was used in rituals, wasn’t it? So maybe from ancient times, even for animals, certain frequencies carried deep meaning.
At that moment, I thought, “Wait, isn’t this exactly what philosophy is?” Just like how there’s philosophy expressed through language, or how people’s emotional responses to watching a spin can become their own kind of philosophy, there’s also a kind of philosophy that comes from how we feel when we hear C minor. These different philosophies came together and intertwined to form the Piano Collection. That’s the mindset I had while creating it.
[Poetry and Improvisation]
— I heard you wrote quite a lot of poems?
Yes, I really did write a lot. I actually created two versions—one was "Awake (Stepping onto a New Path)," which was used in Part 1, and the other was "When Fate Whispers Softly," which was used in Part 2. The “Awake” version was written alphabetically, from A to Z. I originally intended to use both versions in the 'Poem' program, but in the end, the version used in the second half was "When Fate Whispers Softly."
I wrote 30 stanzas of that one in a single go. I remember I based them on four themes: “past,” “future,” “present,” and “myself,” and wrote many lines for each theme. Then MIKIKO-sensei and her team selected and arranged the stanzas for the final performance. As for the “Awake” version that wasn’t used, there were still gaps between the pieces in the Piano Collection that needed to be filled, so I suggested trying out the unused lines there.
— The 'Poem' performance was so dreamy and beautiful... Was all of that improvised?
The sections like “In this moment, time stops” and “This moment is a fleeting light” were choreographed to sync with ELEVENPLAY’s movements. Everything else was improvised. The synchronized parts were choreographed by MIKIKO-sensei.
What’s interesting is how different people interpret language and how words evoke different feelings and inspire different movements in each of us. I think that really reflects the multifaceted, diverse nature of human beings. The four dancers in this performance all have completely different backgrounds and specialties in dance, so that’s probably why such distinct movements emerged from each of them.
— Can improvisation be done so quickly?
At first, I found it really difficult. Without training to connect movement with language, it’s hard to do, and you easily fall into repeating the same motions. But I pushed myself to squeeze something out, no matter what! When I was practicing 'Poem' off-ice, I realized something. My movements tend to rely heavily on my legs.
We would form a circle, me and the four ELEVENPLAY dancers. One person would step into the center and perform, while the others watched and then responded, expanding on it through their own movement. We took turns, passing inspiration around like a chain of creativity. The other dancers could stay in place or express themselves just with their upper bodies, but I noticed I was always using my legs more than anything else.
For example, in Mass Destruction during the “ooh yeah da-dada-dada, dada-dada” or “baby baby” sections, I always match the rhythm with my legs, right? Even when I’m just practicing on the floor, I naturally throw in counters or rockers and end up doing a little cluster movement (laughs). That’s definitely because I’m a figure skater! It’s part of who I am, and I think that’s one of my distinctive traits. It’s something I’ve developed through years of training and expressing myself on the ice, and it naturally comes out even when I dance.
— And that’s what makes it so interesting, right?
Exactly! So I don’t want to lose that uniqueness. But if I only rely on what I already know, my upper body movements end up looking half-hearted. To break out of that, I try to let go of myself and step into someone else’s shoes. I watch different kinds of performances and think about what angles or qualities I like, then quietly absorb them. But I can’t just copy them directly. I have to internalize the essence, and from there, I let my body and heart do the rest. It’s a continuous process of trial and error.
That’s how the 'Poem' performance came to be. Even I watch some of those movements now and think, “Why did I do that move back then?” Every single time, the movements are different and can’t be replicated.
[What Is “Choreography,” What Is “Improvisation”]
— Hanyu-san, as the overall director of your productions, you have to think about the meaning behind the placement of each program, manage the entire flow of the show, and at the same time, each piece carries deep personal emotions for you. When you're actually performing, what kinds of thoughts are running through your mind?
Honestly… I'm just giving it everything I’ve got. That’s all. But what I find really interesting about figure skating is that it has music, choreographed movements, and such rich performance design. So no matter what emotions I’m feeling while skating, I can always convey some level of feeling through those elements. That's why sometimes I rely on that. Especially with Ballade no. 1, I’m sure everyone holds different memories of it in their hearts, so I just trust in those memories and focus on skating it cleanly and beautifully.
— Especially for Ballade no. 1?
Yes, when I’m performing Ballade no. 1 or the Piano Collection, there’s really no room to think about anything else. Take Tenchi, for example, the 'heaven and earth' is really a state of “nothingness,” a sense that all things are impermanent. I don’t think about anything when I skate it. SEIMEI is the same. I’m not fighting against anything when I perform it.
And yet, people always seem to see something in it, don’t they? I think that’s really fascinating. That’s what choreography is, and it shows just how powerful choreography can be. And beyond just the choreography, there’s also stage design, the emotions of the performer... it all comes together.
— What about the “choreography” in something like GATE OF STEINER?
— That’s true, there really wasn’t any. When I was watching the finale performance, just seeing you skate so fast, just that alone moved me deeply. But at the same time, I had this vague sense that there weren’t really any choreographed movements. And if that program truly didn’t have any “choreography,” then it means that even something without choreography can still move people. That really made me start wondering… what is choreography, anyway?
But I still think choreography is necessary. I mean, I don’t think it’s okay for everything to be improvised. There are definitely moments that must be set, like, “This move needs to convey this meaning,” or “This moment has to be fixed.” Those are essential. In a way, it’s like the concept of kata (forms) in classical ballet, how a certain pose or movement carries a specific meaning. And this doesn’t just apply to classical ballet. It’s the same in Noh theater. In fact, across many forms of physical expression, “forms” exist. And only when you’ve mastered those forms can you break them. That’s where improvisation can begin.
In GATE OF STEINER, there was almost no choreography. But even so, there were still unspoken rules like, “At this point, this movement needs to happen.” As for the finale performance, from the start I had already decided: I was going to skate it all out, give everything I had, and just keep pushing forward with everything in me. GATE OF STEINER is a story of traveling through time and different world lines, and then finally, gently pushing open a door. It represents this message to everyone who has always been pushing me forward from behind: “This last time, let me be the one to push you forward.” And then I move into the next phase. That’s something I had in mind from the very beginning of the program’s design. But you know, that story (Steins;Gate) rarely ends in a happy ending. The character is constantly tossed around by fate. It’s a piece that, even though it ends with faith in the future that fate has laid out… what comes after that remains unknown. Maybe it didn’t end in happiness. Maybe it ended with giving up. But just for the finale performance, I wanted to run with everything I had, reach out as hard as I could, and express a burning will to go on, to keep moving forward. That’s not really something you can convey through choreography.
'Poem' is like that too. If we had set choreography for it, it would’ve ended up feeling more like a musical arrangement—structured, arranged, and too neat. The raw emotions wouldn’t be able to flow naturally anymore. Of course, it’s also possible to build emotion on top of choreography, but if we’d choreographed 'Poem', it would’ve come across as “just a dance routine.” And I think that’s the key difference between improvisation and choreography.
[Destiny and Will: A Flawless Finale and the Power of Preparedness]
—The final show was flawless, and the entire performance was absolutely stunning!
Ah well, that was really thanks to everyone… There were several jumps where, honestly, from the moment I took off to the instant I landed on one foot, I kind of zoned out. But somehow, I still landed them. It felt a bit like the last Lutz in the free skate at PyeongChang.
—Wait, you zoned out but still landed the jumps?!
Well, technically speaking, it’s because all the training I’ve done over the years has been deeply ingrained in both my body and my mind, so my body just executed the movements automatically. There’s no doubt about that. But how can I explain it... I really felt like everyone’s strength was flowing into me in that moment. The staff had seen how hard I was training in the venue, and everyone had this strong, shared feeling of, “Let’s do this together!” I think that sense of unity is what made the performance come together the way it did. I felt like everyone shared the same vision, working toward the same goal. And I was in this space free of distractions, completely focused. It reminded me a lot of the 2017 World Championships in Helsinki. Back then, I was in a tough spot after the short program. I placed fifth, which felt almost hopeless. From that point on, everyone around me knew exactly how far I had to push myself to win. The atmosphere in the arena was filled with this collective energy of “You’ve got to land it!” That season, the Hope & Legacy program struggled to gain recognition, and I couldn’t perform it well for a long time. Similarly, Echoes of Life this time around hadn’t reached a perfect state either, because I kept struggling with Ballade no. 1. So in that sense, it really did feel a bit like Helsinki. No matter how focused I am, I can’t create that kind of atmosphere by myself. But because this was a tour, and because we all went through so much together over the course of the season, there was this incredible sense of cohesion during the final show.
Honestly, I think it was nothing short of a miracle.
—The theme of Echoes of Life, though described as philosophical, actually touches on many fundamental questions—such as “life,” “what it means to be alive,” “time,” and “who am I.”
As the core of an introduction to philosophy, what I ultimately think of is “life.” To expand on the idea of “life,” you need to understand the “present” and the “timeline.” And in order to understand the “timeline,” you first have to understand the “self.” So I structured the content almost like a course, arranging it in a systematic way. The Room Guide offers prompts to encourage philosophical thinking step by step, and in the end, asks the audience: “What is the answer to your life?”
—Then what is the meaning of life for Nova?
That’s something I’ll leave to everyone’s imagination. To be honest, I’ve already decided how it ends in my own mind. The production team probably knows, too. But I think… it’s better if I don’t say it out loud.
[The Existence of People Who Watch with Pure Interest and Enjoy It]
—After RE_PRAY, you mentioned that you had become able to rely on your fans. Now that a year has passed, looking at the atmosphere at your shows and within the Hanyu community, it feels like that environment has evolved into something even more open...
I know what you mean, that kind of warm feeling. For example, this time in Echoes of Life, I used classical music. The people who have always supported me probably felt something like, “As expected, Hanyu skating to classical music is just the best. This kind of traditional figure skating program really is wonderful.” And beyond that, because it’s ICE STORY, the stage design and artistic elements also allow people who work in the arts or love art, and those who genuinely love music, to experience it and think, “This really is great.” Not only that, even people drawn in from the areas I personally love like games and anime can enjoy it too. There are people who have been here since long ago, and new people joining in, and there is no hostility in this place. Everyone watches out of pure interest, and I think because it’s a gathering place filled with quality works, everyone is able to find joy in it. In the end, I really think that’s the most important thing.
Back when I was competing, because there were wins and losses, I think the people who fought alongside me probably felt regret too or hoped for me to win if I felt frustration. But that part doesn’t exist anymore. At the same time, though, we can still share in the feeling of “I know you wanted to deliver a perfect performance.” Newcomers in the audience can simply think, “That was beautiful—” I hope this can create a kind of positive cycle.
—Recently, you've been giving your all in performances like ICE STORY, and at other times you’re busy creating programs or doing all kinds of livestreams on YouTube. You seem to be working hard on many things. Though your schedule looks very full, it also seems like you’re enjoying this kind of life. How do you feel about your current days?
I do feel very fulfilled. I’m surrounded by amazing people. No matter what ideas I bring up, they always respond; no matter what I try to do, they help turn it into something really good. I trust them that much. So right now, I feel like I’m being really greedy, in a good way, chasing after things I want to do, things I want to challenge myself with, things I want to improve. That’s how it feels.
To be honest, for example, at the Hiroshima performance, in terms of expression, I thought it was very good. I felt it was a great show. But in terms of the jumps, there were parts I regretted. Like we talked about earlier with choreography. Even though there were things I regretted, I think my performance still managed to come across well, and that’s thanks to the strength of the production design. Challenging myself to that level definitely involves risk, but because there are people I can rely on and entrust things to, I feel safe trying. Right now, I’m surrounded by people I can call my teammates, or maybe it’s better to say I’ve been fortunate to meet people I can share ideas with, people who help expand my thinking. So I feel like, no matter what I do, it’ll be okay.
