If You Haven’t Seen “Medarist”, Now is the Time to Start with Season 2! A Story That “Sweeps Away” the Emotions of Adults Who Don’t Know Figure Skating

So, What’s the Deal with ‘Medalist’?

You’ve probably seen the name pop up more and more: the TV anime Medalist. It became a huge topic when Kenshi Yonezu took on the theme song “BOW AND ARROW,” but that’s far from the only reason. The anime’s story and direction have been praised all over. But while you see high praise flowing on social media, maybe you’re one of the many people who thinks, “A figure skating show seems complicated…” or “I’m not a fan of sports stories…” and keeps putting off watching it.

But here’s the thing: this show hardly requires any knowledge of the sport or its rules. What it portrays isn’t medals or wins and losses, but the feelings of doubt about whether it’s okay to dream, and the heart that becomes afraid to even try. In other words, Medalist is closer to a human drama about life choices and second chances than a pure sports anime. You could also call it a growth story about an adult who couldn’t completely give up on their dream, and a child struggling to grow into their talent. Viewers find themselves inexplicably drawn in and completely captivated by that.

This article is for newcomers who think, “I’m curious, but it’s too late to ask now…” or “Can I even catch up if I start now?” We’re here to break down the appeal of Medalist.

First Off, What Even Is ‘Medalist’?

The original work for Medalist is a manga by Tsurumaikada, serialized in Kodansha’s Monthly Afternoon magazine from the July 2020 issue to the present. It’s a coming-of-age drama centered on figure skating, but it doesn’t have just one protagonist.

The core of the story revolves around the girl Yuuri Ketsu, who’s considered too old to start skating seriously, and the former ice dancer Akari Akira, who couldn’t achieve his dream as a competitor. The meeting between these two—the “dreamer” and the one “defeated by a dream”—is what sets the narrative in motion.

A key feature of this work is that it doesn’t depict a simple success story of “talent will get you there” or “effort will be rewarded.” Realistic constraints—age, family environment, financial circumstances, compatibility with coaches—are carefully layered on. It’s a work that focuses less on victory or defeat and more on the questions of “why do you want to skate?” and “what are you working so hard for?”

Because of this, you can get into the story of Medalist smoothly even if you know nothing about figure skating. This isn’t an anime that explains a sport; it’s a story about “people who still can’t let go of their dreams.”

The Characters Are So Real, Burdened with Effort and Inferiority

The biggest reason Medalist leaves such a strong impression is that its characters carry surprisingly raw, visceral emotions. The protagonist, Yuuri, possesses overwhelming talent but is tormented by the fear of “is it okay for someone like me to dream?” However, given her age, the pressure is on to produce clear results soon. The more she works hard, the more she fears the damage failure will bring. It’s a feeling many people have experienced at least once, not just in sports.

On the other hand, her coach, Akari, is someone whose own dream was broken in the past. The story doesn’t shy away from depicting his conflict over entrusting his unrealized dream to a student, or his immaturity as an instructor. He’s also an awkward man who can only affirm himself through teaching his student.

Medalist doesn’t have clear-cut villains. What it has are people trying desperately to live their lives, who sometimes make mistakes along the way. This realism strongly shakes the viewer’s heart. The structure directly digs into the viewer’s own experiences of failure and the past they wish they could do over.

The Figure Skating Performances Act as a “Translation of Emotion”

The skating scenes in this work function not as technical explanations, but as expressions of emotion. More than the names of jumps or the scores, the composition makes you feel “what is this person carrying on their shoulders as they skate in this moment?” Jumps aren’t depicted merely as success/failure, but as a resolve for this very instant.

During performances, dialogue becomes extremely sparse, and psychology is depicted through music, breathing, gaze, and camerawork. What’s important isn’t whether they succeeded or failed, but “whether they took that step forward.” This is why, even without knowledge of figure skating, you find yourself drawn into the performance alongside the character’s emotions.

Skating isn’t portrayed as just a competition; it’s depicted as the character’s very life. The skating reveals not skill, but how that person wants to live. That’s precisely why the performance scenes in Medalist touch the viewer’s heart directly.

A Story of “Education and Dreams” That Hits Adults Way Too Hard

At first glance, Medalist seems like a story about a child’s growth. Simultaneously, it’s also a narrative that deeply gouges the hearts of its adult viewers. How much is it okay to expect from a talented child? Is supporting a dream truly the right thing to do within financial and time constraints? How much responsibility should a coach bear? The realities of talent, age, money, and environment are portrayed with a cruel honesty.

The story doesn’t provide clear-cut answers to these questions. Rather, it quietly confronts you with the message that “there are no easy answers.” Yet, this work doesn’t deny dreaming itself. After depicting the harshness, it affirms the act of challenging oneself regardless. That sincerity is why Medalist doesn’t end as just a simple, moving tale.

Because of this, after finishing an episode, you might find your chest tightening as you think about the characters who are striving so desperately. And yet, a strange feeling remains—a desire to look forward and move on yourself.

Medalist is a work that uses figure skating as its subject but greatly transcends that framework. It’s by no means your typical sports-underdog story. What it depicts is not the thrill of victory, but the fear and preciousness of taking on a challenge. The cruelty of continuing to dream, and the sight of people striving to look forward anyway. It’s the story of people who couldn’t completely let go of their dreams.

Even someone who knows nothing about figure skating can enjoy it, but an adult past a certain age will likely empathize deeply with the characters’ words and actions and end up in tears. Medalist is that kind of heart-throbbing, moe-inducing work.

© Tsurumaikada, Kodansha / Medalist Production Committee

– Fujioka Akane

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