It’s a Tuesday night in Los Angeles, and the locker room is a chaotic mess of ice packs, towels, and reporters. Rui Hachimura sits at his stall, calm as ever. He just put up 20 points for the Lakers, and the American media is peppering him with questions about his midrange jumper. He answers in smooth, slightly accented English—the kind he’s spent years perfecting since his days at Gonzaga.
Then, it happens.
A reporter from a Japanese outlet steps forward. The vibe in the room shifts instantly. Rui leans in, his posture relaxes, and suddenly, he’s not just a power forward in the NBA. He’s a kid from Toyama. When you hear Rui Hachimura speaking Japanese, it’s not just a translation; it’s a glimpse into a completely different side of his personality that most Western fans never actually see.
Honestly, it’s kinda wild.
In English, Rui is often measured and careful. He’s "professional NBA player Rui." In Japanese, he’s faster. More expressive. There’s a specific cadence to his speech—the Toyama-ben (Toyama dialect) occasionally peeks through—that reminds everyone he isn't just a visitor to Japan. He is Japan.
The Toyama Roots: More Than Just a Language
Rui didn't learn Japanese in a classroom. He lived it. Growing up in Toyama Prefecture, a coastal area known more for its seafood and snow than for producing NBA stars, Rui was fully immersed in the local culture. His mother is Japanese, and his father is from Benin. While some people outside Japan might look at him and see a foreigner, his voice tells a different story.
When he speaks, he uses the "polite" form (keigo) naturally when addressing elders or formal press, but you can hear the "real" him come out in casual snippets.
Remember the "Learning Japanese with Rui" videos the Lakers put out? In those clips, he’s teaching teammates like Anthony Davis or Austin Reaves basic phrases. It’s hilarious because you can see him trying to explain the nuance of a word like mahou (magic) or the "purple and gold" (murasaki and kin).
He isn't just reciting words. He’s sharing a piece of home.
For many biracial kids in Japan—often called hafu—language is a shield. Being fluent in Japanese, specifically with a "native" accent, is often the ultimate proof of belonging in a society that can be notoriously exclusionary. When Rui speaks, that debate basically ends. He sounds like the guy who grew up down the street from you. Because he did.
Why the Media Interaction is So Different
If you’ve ever watched a full post-game press conference, you’ll notice a pattern. Rui will finish his English segment, looking a bit tired. Then the Japanese press corps—which follows him to literally every city, home or away—gets their turn.
The questions are different.
American reporters want to know about the pick-and-roll coverage. Japanese reporters want to know what he ate for breakfast or what he thinks about the upcoming holiday back home.
The nuance of the "Nihon-go" Interview
- Speed: His Japanese is incredibly fast compared to his English.
- Body Language: There’s more nodding (aizuchi), which is a key part of Japanese conversation to show you're listening.
- Humor: Rui is actually pretty funny, but his jokes land way better in Japanese. He uses wordplay that just doesn't translate.
There was this interview a while back where he was asked about being back in Tokyo for the preseason. In English, he said, "It’s great to be back, the fans are awesome." Standard stuff. In Japanese, he went into detail about the specific smell of the air, the food he missed, and the "frenzy" of being at the airport. You could feel the nostalgia.
The Struggle of "Blackanese" Identity
It hasn't always been easy. Rui has been open about the racism he and his brother, Aren, faced growing up. Japan is a largely homogenous country. Being "different" can be isolating.
But here’s the thing: his mastery of the Japanese language changed the narrative.
When a kid who looks like Rui speaks perfect, effortless Japanese, it forces people to rethink what "being Japanese" actually looks like. He calls himself "Blackanese." It’s a badge of honor. He’s been the flag bearer for the Olympic team. He’s the face of brands like Nissin and ANA.
He’s bridging a gap.
Some critics in Japan—the "old guard"—might still make comments about his heritage. But then they hear him speak. They hear the respect in his voice, the perfect grammar, and the local slang. It makes him undeniable. He’s not an "Americanized" athlete; he’s a Japanese citizen who happens to work in the U.S.
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How to Actually Understand Him (Even if You Don’t Speak Japanese)
You don't need a JLPT N1 certification to see the difference. Next time a video pops up of Rui Hachimura speaking Japanese, watch his hands.
In English, he’s often stationary. In Japanese, he’s more animated. He uses more honorifics. He’s navigating a complex social hierarchy that is built into the Japanese language itself.
If you want to dive deeper, look for his interviews on Japanese TV shows like news zero or his features in The Japan Times. You’ll see a man who is incredibly proud of where he comes from.
Actionable Takeaways for Fans
- Watch the Lakers "Learning Japanese" series: It's the best way to see his "teacher" persona.
- Listen for the Dialect: If you hear him say "naitoke" instead of "shinaite," that's the Toyama coming out.
- Support the "Hafu" Community: Follow other biracial Japanese athletes like Naomi Osaka to see how they navigate the same linguistic and cultural hurdles.
Rui isn't just a basketball player. He’s a linguist by necessity and a diplomat by choice. Every time he switches languages, he’s proving that you can belong to two worlds at once without losing an ounce of yourself.
Keep an eye on the post-game feeds. The best version of Rui isn't the one answering the ESPN mics. It’s the one talking to the guys from Tokyo in the corner of the room.
Next Steps: If you're interested in how other NBA players handle the international spotlight, you should check out the latest interviews from Victor Wembanyama in French or Luka Dončić in Slovenian. The way these superstars use their native tongues often reveals more about their true personalities than any standard English presser ever could.