#masato hayakawa imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

potatowithimagination · 5 years

Text

Prove it!

Summary: Does your ex-boyfriend still care about you?

Warnings: Angst, couple of swear words, mention of injury

Pairing: Masato (Coldrain) x Reader

Word Count: 1,5k

A/N: English and Japanese are not my first language, so there’s a possibility of grammatical error. Gif’s not mine.

Working on the same place as your ex was not easy, especially when you thought you moved on already, but you couldn’t help but feel something every time you see him.

Masato David Hayakawa. That name brings a lot of memories for you.

You dated him for a couple of years and everything crumbled because of misunderstanding that at the end of the day, both of you never really had a chance to talk about. It was more of a shouting and screaming kind of breakup.

But here you were, tour managing a smaller band that would open the show for his band, Coldrain, on their international tour. You couldn’t choose but spent a lot of time facing him, and he gave you cold, awkward stare every time.

Seeing him everyday made you spent some of your nights wonder if he ever missed you, or if he ever wrote songs about you. You know your thoughts were dangerous, but you just couldn’t help it.

All thoughts aside, you tried to work your ass off everyday to provide what your band needed. The task included running around the venue, hotel, and tour bus to make sure the show ran smoothly and the band members were safe and comfortable.

Today was no different. You were running back to where the bandwagon was parked, because your vocalist forgot to bring his microphone to the venue for the sound check, when suddenly you hit something solid, and you felt yourself dropped to the floor. You were landing on a wrong foot, and almost instantly felt the pain it caused. You swore without even thinking.

“Gomen.” Said the solid thing that turned out to be someone, instead of something.

The voice sounded so familiar, it sent chills to your bones.

“It’s okay.” You replied shortly. And coldly.

Masato offered his hand to help you, but you ignored it. You tried to stand up on your own but the searing pain on your ankle made you fell back. You swore again.

“Are you okay?”

Yes, of course. Can’t you see? The sarcastic words almost rolled out of your tongue.

“Yes, I’m fine, Masato-san.”

Masato-san. He hated how you spitted the word. It sounded bitter and distance. You used to call him only by his name, without any honorific title like the Japanese usually do.

He reached for your elbow and slowly helped you getting up on your feet and took you to a nearest bench to sat you there.

“I said I’m okay.” You tried to let go of his hands. God, his warm skin felt familiar and you hated it.

“Stop fighting me, Y/N!” He replied harshly. “Let me see how bad your ankle is.”

He rolled up your jeans, and stopped suddenly.

“My God, Y/N. You’re…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Do you even eat?” That was rude and Masato knew that. He just couldn’t help saying that when he saw your bony figure. Being blunt to you was always his best quality. A pain made of worry and guilt struck him in the chest. Do I cause this?

You’ve been skinny your whole life, but this past few months you felt like you lost your appetite, because of what happened to you and Masato. Heartbreak is a bitch. Besides, you have to work harder than before because one of the band’s crews were quitting, so you lost a few pounds of your weight.

“Stop that!” you almost screamed at him. “Stop making me think that you’re actually care about me!”

“Of course I do care about you, Y/N.” he tried so hard to make his voice sounded calm. He wouldn’t let his emotion got the best of him. Again.

You laughed bitterly. Your tears almost dropped when you said, “well, yeah. Good luck trying to convince me about it.”

With that you stood up and slowly walked to the bus and spent a good 10 minutes cried your heart out in your bunk before went out to handed your vocalist’s microphone.

For a few days after the incident, you felt like you were being watched. Masato’s eyes were observing you like a hawk, especially during meal time. That made you feel uncomfortable but warm at the same time. Nevertheless, you avoided eye contact with him.

If he wasn’t in the room, then you felt like someone else was watching you. Even his band mates and crew often asked if you have eaten, or offered you snacks. Some like Sugi and Katsu even shoved rolls of sushi and bowls of ramen down your throat. You knew Masato was behind all of this and it made you furious. You hated to think that he was still actually care about you, because it made your heart flattered with hope, and harder to move on.

Your foot, on the other hand, just made a little progress of getting better because you still had to do your job running around the venue. The bands also had to move around from one city to another every night, so it was almost impossible to get the chance to meet a doctor.

It was almost midnight and you were still in the venue, making sure that nothing was left behind by the bands and crew. Most of the people you worked with were already left to the hotel to rest. You were walking slowly, limping, stopping every once in a while when you felt the pain was too much, when suddenly someone grabbed your arm and put it on top of their shoulders. Masato grinned at you and you wanted to slap it off of his face.

“Let’s sit here.” He said, pointed to one of a couch that was situated in the room.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be back at the hotel and rest.”

He sat you on the couch and knelt in front of you.

“Ah..still care about me too, I see.” His grin got wider.

“I practically work for you at this point. So it’s only professional”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, Y/N.” His grin turned into a full smile this time.

“Why do you do that?” you asked him grimly.

“Do what?”

“Ask people to watch me if I have enough food in my mouth, and if I get enough sleep, and ---“

“You told me to convince you that I am still care about you, didn’t you?”

“It makes me uncomfortable!” You threw your hands up in the air. “Besides, if you really do care, do it yourself! Don’t go bother your friends just to spy on me.”

“Fine, then let me show you right now.”

It feels like déjà vu. He knelt in front of you, rolled up your jeans.

“Let me see your ankle.” He said softly.

He took off your shoes, and his expression shifted. The grin was gone and his face turned to be serious.

“You should really go see a doctor, you know.”

Your foot was swollen and bruised. It was almost sickening to see.

“I will. Just not now. We’re busy.”

“It’s typical you, Y/N.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your job, and other people’s comfort are always number one for you. Think about yourself once in a while, will you?” His voice was soft, almost like a plea.

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes. Is this real? Does he really care about me?

You hanged your head low, avoided his eyes that looked at you intensely.

“This is going to be hurt, but it will help.” His hand touched your cheek, still looking at you.

He then put some pressure on your ankle and you yelped. Your hands instantly grabbed his shoulders, and you couldn’t hold your tears any longer.

Your faces were only inches apart. You could feel his breath fanning over your face. You could see how smooth his skin was. You could see his familiar lips, the one that used to kiss you until you fell asleep. And you cried even harder because you just realized how much you missed him.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N.” his hands found its way back to your cheeks and wiped your tears. He touched his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry.” His words were low, almost like a whisper.

You laughed softly in between your tears. “For trying to help me fix my ankle?”

But he didn’t laugh back. He shook his head, and said, “For everything.”

Then slowly, he touched his lips on yours. You kissed him back almost instantly, hands grabbed his soft, blond hair. You could feel his smile between the kiss, and it made you smile too. You didn’t know how many minutes passed while you were kissing, but you did know that your hearts were light, yet full at the same time.

“Do you forgive me?” Masato asked you, eyes full of hope.

“I still need to think about it.” You grinned, tried to tease him.

He gave you a soft chuckle. “No, you’re right. You should really think about it. And we should talk about what happened between us.”

“Yeah, sure, later. Now just kiss me again.” You wrapped your hands around his neck.

Masato smiled widely and gladly obliged. “Your wish is my command.”

Then he kissed you. Hard. Never wanted to let you go again.

Gomen = sorry

#masato david hayakawa #masato hayakawa #masato coldrain #coldrain #band #jrock #japanese #imagine #fanfiction #one ok rock #crossfaith #fanfic #masato hayakawa imagine #one ok rock imagine #crossfaith imagine

34 notes · View notes

coexistxcoldrain · 4 years

Text

Stuck

Title: Stuck (AO3 Link, please visit! :) ) Author: yaoionshavedice / hesonlytiny Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Love~ Ship: Masato/Colin Words: ~3.500 Summary: “Are you … trying to flirt with me?”

“Yes … and no.” ... “I’m not trying to, that is.” Notes: Not a native speaker! Please do give constructive criticism :) Again, this ship is still very rare/I made it up, lol. So please feel free to visit my AO3 to get some more information about the dudes. I’d feel honoured if you could give it a try and leave a kudo/like/reblog <3 (Yes, this is the last of my ‘old’ fanfics lol). Have fun :)

Stuck

It was already some moments after midnight when I decided to go for a stroll in this early summer’s weak moonlight. Maybe go check up on the goods at the closest konbini first.

It had been a series of slow and ungrateful days. Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy my days off, but such a stark contrast to the busy and socially active work days was bound to confuse your psyche. I knew that my body had yearned for some peace and quiet and even though I felt a bit lonely, I knew that it was ultimately good for my soul.

It was this awkward stage between having finished recording the new album and rehearsing for the upcoming tour. And I’d spend most of those nights outside, breathing in the still pleasantly chilly night air to forget the ache in my head.

After having entered the elevator, I assumed my usual spot next to the buttons and leaned against the wall. Pressed first floor. Waited till the doors closed. Glanced inside the mirror opposite of me.

God, I looked so worn out. Good thing no one besides me would notice, anyway. My black beanie covered half of my tousled bleached and toned hair, and a black mask half of my face. Only the dark circles beneath my tired eyes were a foolproof indicator of what was really going on. But here, people usually didn’t look you in the face. Especially not so late at night. I’d get a few snacks, maybe a coke, and walk through the neighbourhood–

Suddenly the elevator stopped a tad too soon and it took me a while to realise that someone else in this building had to have a similar idea. As the doors opened, I only glanced at the person in passing. Actually, I wasn’t that interested in seeing anyone, so I didn’t care about them anyway, but stepping in was a man I’d never before seen in this complex. Granted, not quite astonishing seeing that the building itself was rather big, but said guy obviously didn’t seem to be … local.

As the doors closed behind him, he pressed one of the buttons and nodded to me in a set phrase manner; acknowledging my presence. He was quite a bit taller than me and his black curly ruffled hair made me want to take back the comment about whatever state I thought my hair was in. He was neither wearing a mask, nor some sort of hat and his sweatshirt seemed to be a tad too cosy for this time of year.

But before I could take an even closer look at this guy, the elevator suddenly stuttered and with a clunk it stopped in its tracks. I was insanely caught by surprise, had to have been too deep lost in my thoughts about that man, funnily enough, so that my heart dropped at the unfamiliar happening and a hot shiver creeped down my neck. Then it got cold. I instinctively tried to hold onto anything I could reach – which was of course plain useless, so to say.

But now the elevator didn’t do a single thing anymore. And suddenly we were stuck.

“Fuck,” I heard him blurt out in horror and saw him spontaneously lose his entire skin colour all at once. Not that he’d had a lot to begin with. He was obviously English speaking, though I could not quite guess where he was from exactly. His darting looks, however, spoke of mild discomfort, to say the least. And I wasn’t entirely sure whether that came from being stuck or being stuck here with me.

“Don’t worry,” I tried to reassure him as calmly as I could possibly manage, “they listen to the emergency calls 24/7. Let me do that.”

I didn’t look at him before I turned around to face the speaker and pressed the button in hopes of hearing anybody really on the other side. The guy remained silent, maybe not an English speaker after all, but at least the operator did answer, much to my relief.

“Good evening. Erm, it seems like I am stuck here in the elevator on the 3rd floor maybe? It won’t move anymore. We’re two people in here,” I explained in my most calm, slightly polite Japanese. I might have misheard, but I could swear the guy’d gasped suddenly hearing me speak Japanese.

“I understand. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience. We’ll be there as soon as we can but I’m afraid it may still take some time, Sir. In the meantime, remain calm and do not try anything.”

I let the operator know I’d understood and shuffled around to again face the other person. I’d heard that mechanics in other countries sometimes try to let you fix the problem by yourself, giving you instructions. That way, the mechanics don’t have to leave their office and the people in the elevator get out faster. Unfortunately, this was not the way of Japan.

“What did he say?” The guy faced me with somewhat of a nervous laugh, if that was the way to describe it. His glances were fleeting, as though he couldn’t quite decide if it was worth looking me in the eye. I shrugged and removed my face mask. I wasn’t sick, I was just sick of being so sick and tired.

“They … heard our S.O.S call. They’ll be here in a few … Scratch that and make that a lot,” I giggled in a hushed voice. “They try to please you, but it takes some time due to traffic.”

“Well, that’s awkward then,” he mumbled under his breath and rubbed his hands over his face before letting himself drop to the floor. I didn’t quite know what to do or say.

“I’m Colin by the way,” he said, this time a bit clearer, and he even looked me in the eye while extending his hand for me to shake. The angle, however, was a bit awkward too, and so I joined him on the floor before I shook it. “Might as well get to know each other if we’re stuck here for half an eternity.”

“No one said anything about an eternity,” I joked and gave him my name as well, Masato Hayakawa and all.

Sitting like this on the floor, each of us with the opposite wall behind their back, legs awkwardly stretched out next to one another, feet almost touching the wall the other had occupied, made me wish I wouldn’t have sat quite as close.

“So, you’re … a broker?”

“What?” I echoed confused, laughing, “What even makes you think that?”

“You look fancy,” he explained a bit more confident this time. Something had changed, even if I didn’t yet know what. “You look like how I’d imagine a broker looks like.”

“Jesus.” Now I was the one to run my hands through my face. “You’re not real.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he chuckled with his low voice and for the first time during this encounter, I could actually focus on his accent. His words came out slurred, in such a way that his tongue sounded heavy. Sometimes they were hard for me to understand, but it sure as hell made him seem interesting. “I meant to say … you look good. That suits you.”

“If brokers are your kinda deal …” I tried to go with his flow but in reality I was taken slightly aback by his straightforward nature. Yes, there were indeed different cultures at play, but English and Japanese were so unlike each other, too. Normally, you’d only compliment other people on their skills, on superficial things, really. And you were supposed to downplay it as well; ‘no, no! I’m really not that good at all.’ In English, however … that was quite a different thing. When was it you’re supposed to compliment someone? I suddenly hated the fact that I could not tell whether he had honestly meant it or not.

Colin nodded in understanding; lips clenched in a somewhat friendly smile.

No one looked good in an elevator’s bright, neon lights, frankly said. I knew I looked like death, observing myself in the small mirror. But for some reason he managed to appear as unfazed by it as grass by rain. And, honestly, I looked terrifying. Looking at myself looking like that, I was suddenly afraid my reflection would come to life and want to murder Colin right then and there.

“I’m sorry if I’m too straightforward but … I take it that you’re American?”

I muffled a pained laugh in hopes of concealing my true feelings regarding this particular question. I knew that he had meant no harm, however. Hardly anyone ever did, of course. I cleared my throat. “Yes and no, I guess …”

I watched him raise one eyebrow in confusion and finally saw the penny drop little by little. “I’m half American, half Japanese. But I’ve been raised here, so …”

Colin nodded. When he bit his lips like that, dimples appeared on his lower cheeks. He looked at the ground, by this time having pulled up his legs in order to hug and hold them in place; the sleeves of his sweat shirt rolled up showed off his underarms. He wasn’t awkward by any means, that wasn’t it. I just couldn’t put my finger on why he’d suddenly changed persona so quickly.

“It’s just, your accent …” he tried to justify but I didn’t take any further offence, it was fair enough, really.

“So, you’re here for work?”

He paused, letting my question roll over his tongue deliberately. His dark lashes cast a deep shadow onto his cheeks. “I could be,” he answered then but his eyes still wouldn’t meet mine fully. “But the truth is: I met someone here. I don’t live in Japan and I don’t intend to. Coincidentally, I just know someone living in this building.”

Now it was my turn to nod. We were running out of questions to ask and there was no way we could establish a comfortable conversation. It didn’t feel like it …

“You could be?”

“I’m an actor; I’ve had offers here before.”

I honestly didn’t want to get into details about my profession, so I again just nodded off his statement and wished the mechanic would finally turn up. Something about that guy, or just our interaction in general, felt off. It was tensed up. Awkward. And I couldn’t at all grasp why.

“I have to admit that you looked odd with your mask on at first, but your nose is really pretty.”

“My nose?” I laughed in response, because I didn’t know what else to do. So silly to say it like that …

“It gives you character,” he explained further, even if it happened to make me slightly more uncomfortable. “You shouldn’t hide it.”

“Like this?” I asked and pulled up my black mask again; hiding my chin, mouth and nose; watching his face screw up in the process. I grinned. It made it a bit easier. I was sure he didn’t intend to let it sound creepy, but it kinda got across that way.

“Such a pity, you’re so handsome.”

“You know that there’s a purpose for these masks, right? That I’m not hiding just because?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, almost as though he didn’t care in the end after all. “I’m just saying that … you’re pretty.”

What a weird guy that was. He didn’t care about embarrassing himself in the slightest. He just said what was right on his tongue; without thinking about it for a second. He simply did not care. He was honest; authentic. It was kind of fascinating, really. But refreshing in a good way.

“Are you … trying to flirt with me?”

I just had to ask. I couldn’t stop those words rolling right off my lips. I’d been wondering since the moment he’d first opened his mouth in this elevator. My skin tingled; everywhere. Maybe, just maybe … I wished he did.

“Yes … and no.”

I waited a bit in order to let him finish his sentence. But he never did, so it was my turn to raise an eyebrow questioningly.

“I’m not trying to, that is.”

Oh God. I hadn’t expected that kind of response. Honestly? I’d been kidding. Sort of. Or rather … I hadn’t wanted to hear those words. But now that they were here … what exactly was I supposed to say? He’d absolutely thrown me off balance.

By this time, I’d already pulled down my mask again. I wasn’t sure how I came across, but I sure as hell felt like a little lost boy for a moment. Cold ground beneath me, fingers playing with the hem of my pants, hesitant eyes wandering across the tiny compartment. I didn’t know what to say.

“Hey,” he nudged one of my feet with one of his to get my attention. When I glanced up, he was sporting a diplomatic, almost apologetic look. For a moment I wondered how someone with such deep brown, almost black, coloured hair could possess rainy blue eyes like those. They were piercing. They hurt. I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry if that was a bit too bold. Don’t worry if you’re not interested. I’ll just shut up.”

“I–” I interrupted myself gingerly because I realised I actually still didn’t know what to say at all while my tongue had acted on its own. Bummer.

Had that ever happened to me? Ever? Even with a woman? I could not recall. Sure, there was the occasional groupie here and there, making explicit offers. I knew what they all wanted, they didn’t even need to vocalise it. But this was different. He didn’t know who I was.

“Have you ever … kissed a guy?”

“Me? No!” I said, realising it had to have sounded weird in that context. I wasn’t against it. I had just never thought about it thoroughly. Why would I? Never had to. But suddenly I questioned my whole existence only by looking at that guy.

“You know that I’m technically obliged to ask: ‘then how would you know if you like it?’, right?”

“I never wanted to before, that’s been reason enough for me …”

What kind of weird ass conversation was that, anyway? With a random foreigner inside a stuck elevator, talking about homosexual tendencies out of the blue?

“I thought you wanted to shut up?”

Colin then laughed again, this time fully with his eyes closed, but his slightly open mouth only revealed his straight, white teeth. Yeah, he was kinda pretty, or interesting looking, for that matter. He had to have thousands of offers at his fingertips. That he was going for me only told me that he was insatiable or at least never satisfied and that really wasn’t a good look on him.

“You’re right, of course,” he looked at me sheepishly from under his dark eyelashes; a nonchalant smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It was worth a shot, though.”

My heart raced for miles. I didn’t even know why. He made me so nervous … but this somewhat angsty feeling of uneasiness I’d felt before was entirely gone. Replaced. The idea of him being into me didn’t disturb me, it didn’t bother me … I didn’t know if I wanted it, but I certainly did not not want it.

I’d always said that I wasn’t gay. I was not. Surely being into a guy liking you didn’t make you full-on gay all of a sudden …

“So,” I cleared my throat uncomfortably just to say something, anything, “you’re an actor? What do you do?”

“Well, obviously, acting …” he started to explain but I could see in his face that he was about to continue; albeit currently thinking. Maybe he’d talked himself out of adding a ‘duh’ at the end of his drawn out sentence. “I wouldn’t say I’m immensely popular …but I do act in films, telly shows and in plays.”

I nodded slowly, happy about the new distraction this conversation opportunity offered, even though I wasn’t quite sure about the validity of its contents. Just the way he dragged it all out, speaking slowly so as to not accidentally say a wrong word.

“I see. How’d you get into it?”

Colin shrugged. For the first time this night I noted how the shape of his muscled chest stood out from under his subtly tight sweatshirt. He seemed lanky when you initially stood facing him. He was indeed tall, yes, but lanky? Not so much after all.

“Always been into it, really. Started off with plays in school. Turned out I wasn’t that bad at it.”

“How about acting in one of our videos then?”

Oh shit.

Oh shit. I didn’t mean to say that.

“Your … videos?”

I sighed and pressed the back of my right hand against my forehead. “You act, I sing.”

“Oh, so you’re a singer?” he laughed enthusiastically, lazily pointing a finger at me. “I knew it. You look it!”

“I thought I looked like a broker?” I amusedly chimed in, though hesitantly, and shook my head. “I’m a vocalist, yes. I’ve got a band.”

“What’re you guys called?”

Again, I shook my head no. Resisted the urge to cross my arms against my chest for special effects’ purpose. I honestly wasn’t about to tell him. “Over my dead body.”

“Don’t make me. You know you can’t run.”

This time I shrugged and I watched it rattle inside his head. Forehead all scrunched up, eyebrows raised and lips clenched. Wondering what he was about to retort, I let my foot touch his challengingly; curiously. Then he pulled out his phone and began typing.

“Masato Hayakawa you said,” he mused but when I finally realised what he was about to do, I had rushed forward impulsively but he’d already seen the Google results. Damn it. I should have known.

“Very flattering first picture,” he chuckled, I rolled my eyes, already knowing which photo he’d meant. “Coldrain, huh?”

“It’s really not that big ‘a deal,” I tried to play it down but he just looked at me with some kind of bottle-empty face that made me sure that he knew. I sighed defeated and tried to relax against the opposite wall again. At this point in time I didn’t understand why I didn’t feel comfortable in him knowing about it.

“I promise you I’ll only check out your music videos later.”

It took him a moment, but then there was this snotty smirk playing about his lips again. Then he nudged my foot for a change, pointing at his broad neck.

“I see rock stars still rock tattoos, though.”

I nodded and pushed the sleeves of my shirt upwards to reveal the coloured one on my forearm. “Seems like it.”

Somehow I liked being called like that … by him. The way he slurred his words was irrationally alluring; almost hypnotically so. But I’d somehow already grown accustomed to his thick accent.

Silence.

I saw it in his eyes, subtly trying to avoid mine, that he was still contemplating about pushing me further. Yeah, it was obvious that he seemed to be interested in me, not only because he’d basically said so himself. And he was mature enough not to start bothering me about it a second time. But as I became aware that I was playing with my fingers again, something I did when I was nervous, I realised that I actually ached for redirecting the conversation back to the beginning. To when he did not try to flirt with me. I wondered if he would have asked me for my number. I wondered if I would have moved just the tiniest bit closer to him. I wondered how he smelled at the nape of his neck …

“I honestly don’t wanna be that guy but …” He was unsure himself, I could see it. But my eyes searched his and I swear they screamed for him to finish that God damn sentence. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. You look as if–”

“Yes!”

“What?”

As I then rushed forward again, this time not to interrupt him, I saw this tiny smile of his reappear on his lips. Mere inches apart. He smelled faintly of aftershave. I swallowed nervously and still couldn’t bring myself to finally close this gap between us. One hand on the ground, one awkwardly on his shoulder. One of his playing with my hair at the back of my head beneath my black beanie. The tension was overwhelming but he obviously wanted me to make the first step. I swallowed hard.

I wanted it so much. My heart wouldn’t stop racing. I–

“Is anybody in there?” A voice at the other end of the elevator door called in Japanese. I felt my heart sink as I let myself sink to the floor simultaneously; trying to relax my beating heart.

Jesus. Did that guy bewitch me?

I looked at him with nervous eyes. Wondering eyes. Perplexed ones. At a loss for words. But he understood and slowly closed the gap between us, pecking me on the lips. Short. A second. A blink of an eye. An inhale. I had subconsciously stopped breathing.

“I’ll give you my number, okay?”

#coldrain #masato hayakawa #colin morgan #hayakawa masato #masato david hayakawa #fanfiction #MasaLin

0 notes

repwincoml4a0a5 · 7 years

Text

Behind the scenes: An interview with the heads of Canon's L lens factory

From left to right, Mr. Hayakawa, Mr Okada and Mr Izuki, the three men in charge of development and keeping things running smoothly at Canon's Utsunomiya lens plant.

Following the CP+ 2017 show in Japan, we headed to Canon's Utsunomiya lens factory to take a tour and interview the gentlemen who oversee all operations and development. This included Kenichi Izuki, the Plant Manager, Masato Okada, Deputy Chief Executive of Image Communication Products Operations and Shingo Hayakawa, Deputy Group Executive of Image Communication Products Operations.

The Utsunomiya plant is where all Canon's L series, cinema, and broadcast lenses are produced. It's also where all Canon lenses are designed. Many of those designs can be attributed to the three men pictured above. In fact just before we started the interview Mr Izuki informed us that he had been lead designer of the EF 35mm F2 IS lens we'd chosen to document the factory tour. So there's also a pretty good chance you have one of them to thank for your favorite Canon glass!

Please note that this interview was conducted through an interpreter, and has been edited slightly for clarity and flow.

The magic place where all Canon L lenses are born.

What percentage of L lenses are manufactured in the Utsunomiya lens plant?

Because this is the 'mother' factory, 100% of L lenses are made here.

How many different lenses can be manufactured simultaneously in this plant?

Basically, we create all lenses every day [including L-series EF, Cinema EOS and broadcast]. The only exception is some of the broadcast lenses.

Which lenses in particular are the most difficult to manufacture and why?

Any large super telephoto lenses because of the size of the glass elements. In terms of skill required for lens assembly: the TV broadcast lenses are most difficult.

How many lenses are produced at this lens plant every year, both in terms of types of lenses and total units?

We do not disclose total production for this plant. That said, Canon has produced a total of 120 million lenses over the years. Of course, many of those are kit lenses, which are not produced here, but in our facility in Taiwan.

Mr Izuki, the plant manager, teaching us about the lens production process.

Tell us a little bit about the history of the plant.

The facility as a whole has been here for forty years, however prior to 2005, we were located in an older building on the other side of the property. And the land where the current plant sits was initially owned by the Du Pont family. When they returned it to the prefecture, we bought it.

The current lens facility opened in 2005. When we moved in we completely revamped our lens-making machines and devices. Not all, but the majority. This helped to push [us] to a higher standard of quality.

Over the past 40 years, lenses have changed a lot, with autofocus introduced, aspherics, etc., what was the largest paradigm shift in lens technology?

We are reaching the 30th anniversary of the introduction of the EOS line. It was at that time, in 1987, that we moved into autofocus. When we did that, I believe we were the first ones to go fully-electronic mount autofocus. Because the motors were built into the lens we had a significant competitive edge.

As DSLR resolution increases, it can be a challenge to achieve precise focus because AF errors are more noticeable. How do you reduce this risk in the manufacturing and quality control process?

Overall precision is something customers are increasingly requiring. In this factory, we have increased the level of precision of our machines so that lenses have more accurate autofocus.

A lens going through QC testing. Information from the test will be saved on a chip in the lens.

During the tour it was mentioned that Canon lenses now store their quality control test data using on-board memory. Can that data be used to improve autofocus reliability?

We do store data from final lens testing on each unit. I won’t be able to speak in greater detail other than saying, yes, in theory, that data could be used to achieve higher autofocus performance [better AF precision] with a DSLR.

How long does it take a lens like the Canon EF 16-35mm f/2.8L III USM to make its way from start to finish in the assembly line?

From raw material being polished, to the final tested product being boxed: about 24 hours of work, in theory. But the physical production would actually take longer. This is because we are producing parts in batches and there are machines that need to be fitted. These variables aside, if you take the actual time of labor, assembly and packaging, it is about 24 hours.

You mentioned you were looking to hit an 80% automation rate in this facility. What kind of efficiency gain does that represent?

It’s difficult to say in terms of time, but I can say it use to take about 70 people to make a lens like that prior to automation, now we need about 6 or 7.

As production becomes more automated will you require fewer skilled manual workers?

In one sense yes. But it’s not about firing the rest of these people, it’s about allowing them the time to build up their skills. This way they can face challenges and difficulties like increasing precision and performance. So we’ve essentially been able to allocate these workers to a different environment.

A lens in the final assembly process. It can take 25-30 years to become an Assembly Meister at Canon's Utsunomiya plant.

Typically how long does someone train before they attain the title of 'Meister'?

In terms of the level of 'Lens Mestier,' it would take 30-35 years. For 'Assembly Meisters", 25-30 years.

Now that the process for assembly, element polishing and quality control is so automated, we're curious how many lenses pass QC the first time vs those that have to go back for re-calibration.

In terms of maintaining a level of quality before going into mass production, we do a lot of checking and scenario building [using a super computer] to make sure everything will go right. Once a lens goes into mass production we can safely say that we have seen no lenses returned for further calibration.

What impact did the 2011 have on this facility and how long did it take to recover?

A lot of the ceilings came down. We took a big hit in that regard. But, we were able to come back into operation within about 2 to 3 months.

While not the most exciting photo, if you look very carefully, you might see some minor impressions on the linoleum. This is (subtle) evidence of the 2011 earthquake, which caused some ceilings to collapse. The yellow tape line is used by computerized robots in the factory.

Did you implement any changes as a result of the earthquake?

We have fortified the building, so that it is more earthquake-proof. And the assembly tools we use are put together in such as way that they are shake-proof.

Are there major differences in how you QC test broadcast and cinema lenses vs EF lenses?

The concept for testing is basically the same. But, in terms of broadcast/cinema lenses there are some unique customizations that we offer depending on the particular cameraman or filmmaker. If they want to zoom by hand, for instance, we can accommodate the pressure of the mechanism to their requirements.

A lot of your users use EF lenses for video creation. Has that changed the way you design some EF lenses?

In terms of stills shooter, when it comes to autofocus, the faster the better. On the other hand, videographers tend to require a variance in autofocus speed. Sometimes they want a slow effect. So we had to create a motor that could actually do both fast and slow focus. This is why we introduced Nano-USM. It's in both the 18-135mm F3.5-5.6 IS USM and the 70-300mm F4-5.6 IS II USM.

Will that kind of autofocus be used more in the future as video becomes more of a requirement for users?

Yes.

At any given time, how many new lenses are in development at this facility?

I can not give you a number, unfortunately. But I can say that new lenses are in development as we speak. So I hope you look forward to them.

Results of a QC test.

Editors note (by Dan Bracaglia):

Let me begin by saying how grateful I was to be given access to Canon's lens factory and what an honor and privilege it was to sit down and interview the creators of some of Canon's most legendary glass. In my six and a half years writing about photography, this was one of my most memorable and rewarding experiences.

There were endless points of fascination throughout the tour, most of which have been covered in this interview or will be covered in our forthcoming factory tour slideshow. However one point that particularly interested me is that all the information from a lens' final calibration and quality control check is saved on a chip within the lens itself. The idea here is this information can been used, in theory, when a lens comes back in for cleaning or recalibration. It also means that at some point, perhaps camera bodies will be able to access this information, which could lead to better AF precision. This is solid forward thinking on Canon's part.

I was also intrigued to find that Canon manufactures every L lens in the same factory. Not only that but every current lens in the L series is being made every day. As you might imagine, security at the facility is very tight.

"Canon, it seems, recognizes just how important pushing lens development is"

Also hearing Canon put a concrete number on their automation goals (80%) was interesting. Of course you could read that as Canon displacing workers with machines, but throughout the tour and the interview, our guides made it clear that automation wasn't about replacing workers, rather dedicating more workers to research and development. Canon, it seems, recognizes just how important pushing lens development is, all while maintaining a high level of quality control. Automation offers just this.

And I'm not ordinarily one to be starstruck, but when Mr. Izuki told me he designed the Canon EF 35mm F2 IS, my jaw dropped a little. There's nothing quite like standing of front of the creator of one of your favorite lenses. Speaking of favorites, we also asked Mr. Hayakawa, Mr Okada and Mr Izuki which Canon lens they've designed/worked on over the years they are most proud of. We got some great answers. We'll be posting those in a separate article soon, so stay tuned!

Barney, just prior to entering the factory floor. We also went through a room that blasted us with air. Dust is the enemy in a lens factory.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2n5rtDk

#DIYS

0 notes

repwincostl4m0a2 · 7 years