The Battle Was Unilaterally Over

During the run of the musical 'Pack My Present Self,' I had already been informed by those involved that his condition was quite serious. Nevertheless, news of a death always feels sudden. While I was shocked, in that very moment, I felt as though an invisible battle with the director had ended within me. It felt as though all my performances up to that point had been a fight directed at Nozawa-san. We had been almost out of touch since I left the troupe. To this day, I have never known where Nozawa-san lived or his phone number. He never saw a single one of my stage performances after I left the troupe. Of course, I don't think anything of it, but in that moment, I realized I had always been fighting deep in my heart.

Even during my time in the troupe, and certainly after leaving, I have few memories of my acting being praised. Yet, I feel I acted solely to earn a "Yes" from the strict director (Nozawa-san), to be told I had improved, and to be acknowledged somewhere. In reality, I would never again receive his evaluation in his voice... That's why I felt the battle was unilaterally over.

Near the end of my teens, Nozawa-san, who was leading the troupe Bara-za, invited me in, saying, "She's an interesting girl who doesn't pander to people." It was my first time in a leotard, my first time doing Koryu Bungen, my first time performing Uiro Uri—my days were filled with firsts, and I eagerly began my life as a troupe trainee. In contrast to the solitary world of singing, I found a sense of "camaraderie" in the troupe. I became particularly interested in dance and threw myself into lessons with incredible intensity. Classical ballet, jazz dance, tap dance—after taking two classes a day at the troupe, I would attend others in the evenings, sometimes taking three classes a day (laughs).

VS. The Director

Completing the trainee curriculum was a joyful period. During breaks between lessons, we'd go out for pachinko or tea. Once we started performing on stage, however, our days became consumed by rehearsals, and the fun evaporated. I clung on, though exhausted by Nozawa-san's endless rehearsals. Joking aside, things were thrown, and rehearsals lasting until morning were common. Day after day, repeating, repeating, just repeating. What was wrong? Where was it wrong? I couldn't understand at all and just acted silently. Of course, it wasn't a matter of "what?" or "where?" In retrospect, I was simply "terrible." How many complaints must have fallen by the wayside on the walk from the rehearsal studio to Hatsudai Station (laughs).

A little over a year after joining, I was fortunate enough to be cast in a leading role, and I spent most of that year with the troupe—no, my entire twenties were spent with the troupe. During performances, even after the curtain fell, I remember returning to the rehearsal studio to continue practicing. All staff, all cast, everyone was utterly exhausted. We had all-night rehearsals day after day, making props and costumes, scrambling to meet ticket quotas—even though we were young, we had no energy or voice left.

During performances, some people would sleep in the wings or behind the sets. However, Nozawa-san paid no mind to such things! (Well, I assume he knew, but...) It seemed he was that displeased with our acting, or perhaps it was just that bad. During my time with the troupe, I rarely had the opportunity to accompany audience members home, share a meal, or talk at length with them. Even if there were no rehearsals, the critiques would go on for a long time, and I accepted it as normal. It felt like a battle that couldn't be fully described by the word "strict."

Yet, I endured for over ten years. It was "magic." It was within this magic that I was able to pursue a career as a voice actor. That said, I wasn't taught any techniques, like how far to stand from the microphone or how to sync with the screen; I was simply thrown into the studio... However, perhaps as a result of my perseverance, I became able to support myself as a voice actor relatively early on. Fortunately, I juggled voice work—five to six regular roles a week—with rehearsals at the troupe. I was already busy.

Naturally, only those who spent time together in the troupe can truly understand what happened during those years. Some things can be spoken of, some cannot, and some I feel are better left unsaid. For me, it was chaos. Looking back, perhaps I can call it a beautiful era of chaos.

My Acting is Undeniably of the Nozawa Style

It was Nozawa-san's catchphrase. Even when rehearsals were going reasonably well, he would rarely praise us, saying, "That's just the procedure!" Amidst this, there are two instances I remember clearly. Once, while playing Tripitaka in the musical 'Monkey,' he suddenly said, "You've improved" in the wings of the Shinjuku theater, which surprised me. Another time, during an external production of 'The Music Man' while I was still with the troupe, he gave me the odd compliment, "You perform well elsewhere!" (laughs). Every time I stepped onto a stage after leaving the troupe, I reveled in the pleasure of being praised. Other directors were incredibly complimentary. "What is this restless feeling?" At first, I didn't understand what was happening within me. Then, I recognized, "Ah, I've been praised." Perhaps during my troupe days, I desperately wanted to be praised more.

The "carrots" in the "carrots and sticks" I received for my performances after leaving the troupe—these carrots tasted exceptionally sweet precisely because of the "sticks" from my troupe days. And I knew that from now on, I would receive fewer "sticks." Therefore, I had to push myself. The perseverance cultivated through grueling rehearsals! I still believe I'm second to none in that regard. I am grateful. But what I should be most grateful for is learning "acting." As I was under a male lead, I was told things like, "Go learn femininity and allure elsewhere!" but the foundation of my acting lies entirely here. My acting is undeniably of the Nozawa style.

More than 20 years have passed since I left the troupe. We passed each other in studios a few times, but it was only a brief greeting. He even visited me once for 'Anpanman.' I heard from many people that Nozawa-san spoke of me on various occasions, but we never spoke directly.

After returning to Japan, I attended the funeral, but I had firmly decided, "I will not look at his face." It was better that way. In my mind, he was still alive somewhere far away, and I wanted to continue my own fight. So, from a distance, I clasped my hands and thought, "Thank you. Please continue to put on all-night plays with the troupe seniors who have already passed on." I offer my deepest condolences.


Even when I heard the news of his passing, or at the funeral, I did not cry.



But as I write this now, tears are overflowing.



In solemn remembrance