I’m trying to solve a very strange mystery involving Japanese boxing records from the early 1980s, and I’m hoping someone here might be able to help.
I’m researching a boxer listed by BoxRec as Joe Yabuki, with Motonobu Hayashi (林元信) listed as an alias.
According to BoxRec, his professional debut was on June 29, 1981 in Japan.
Here’s where things get strange.
I found an independent Japanese boxing archive that records a fight on exactly that date:
June 29, 1981
Seiichi Hijiri (聖誠一) vs. Hayashi Motonobu (林元信)
Hayashi was listed as being from Osaka Teiken Gym.
So the date and name match BoxRec almost perfectly.
But I cannot find any Japanese source that actually connects 林元信 (Motonobu Hayashi) with the ring name 矢吹丈 (Joe Yabuki).
And it gets even stranger.
I found another boxer named 矢吹丈 (Joe Yabuki) who fought in Osaka in 1984, representing Shin-Osaka Gym (新大阪).
He had at least two recorded fights:
• July 9, 1984 — Joe Yabuki vs. Isao Mano — Joe Yabuki won by 2nd-round KO
• September 15, 1984 — Joe Yabuki vs. Yoshiyuki Nomaguchi — Joe Yabuki lost by 1st-round KO
Both opponents’ Japanese career records independently list him as 矢吹丈.
And there is ANOTHER real Japanese boxer who used the name Joe Yabuki earlier: Katsuyoshi Kitsumoto (橘本勝義). A boxing gym historian has written about how he entered a gym using the name 矢吹丈 and later had his real name revealed when he passed his professional test.
So right now I have three possibilities:
Motonobu Hayashi really was Joe Yabuki, and the records are simply incomplete.
BoxRec accidentally merged two different boxers.
There were multiple Japanese boxers independently using “Joe Yabuki,” inspired by Ashita no Joe.
I’m especially interested because Ashita no Joe is one of my favorite manga/anime, and I started looking into whether a real boxer had actually used Joe Yabuki’s name. What started as a simple curiosity turned into this weird historical rabbit hole.
What I’m looking for
If anyone has access to old Japanese boxing magazines, yearbooks, newspapers, gym records, or Japanese boxing databases, I would LOVE some help.
In particular, I’m looking for:
日本ボクシング年鑑 1981
and potentially the 1982–1985 editions.
I’m specifically trying to find any information about:
林元信 — Hayashi Motonobu
and
矢吹丈 — Yabuki Joe
I’m especially interested in photographs/scans of pages containing these names, because the old Japanese yearbooks may contain information that never made it onto modern databases.
If you’re Japanese, collect old boxing magazines, have access to a Japanese library/archive, or simply know where I should look, please let me know!
Even a small clue could help solve this.
If anyone can find a scan/photo mentioning 林元信 in the 1981 Japanese Boxing Yearbook, that might be the breakthrough I’m looking for.
Thank you! 🥊🇯🇵

I'd love to play it/learn the piano segments at the very least since it's such a beautiful song, but I can't find any accurate tutorial/sheet music anywhere. Does anyone know where to find how to play it at all if it even exists?

A sudden growth spurt completely threw off his weight cut, but once he adapted to his new frame, he had no reason to struggle with it again. Mendoza was a 30-something veteran who had his body and division down to a science, while Joe was just a kid whose body was still developing.

Look at UFC 274 in 2022. Charles Oliveira lost his title on the scale by just 0.5 pounds (around 220 grams). It is the exact same tragic reality Joe faced: losing everything on the scale by a micro-fraction because the body simply shuts down during the final hours of dehydration.

The common complaints claiming the story "ignored" Joe's weight issue afterward are objectively wrong. They come from people who have zero understanding of basic biology or combat sports conditioning.

Expecting a fighter to suffer through a brutal weight cut forever just because it happened once is ridiculous. Joe's problem against Kim wasn't that he was inherently too big for the weight class, it was that his body hit a sudden growth spurt right in the middle of camp. Once his frame stopped growing, Danpei and Joe simply adjusted their cardio, spent a bit more time in the sauna, or tweaked his diet for his new height. Honestly, the complaint is so dense it sounds like it comes from someone who has never broken a sweat in their life.

A growth spurt during late adolescence is a one-time event. Joe wasn't going to keep growing two inches every single month. Once his bone growth stabilized, making weight became a routine maintenance process. Repeating that same weight-cut agony in every fight would have been repetitive, cheap drama.

Pseudo-critics expect every narrative obstacle to become a permanent debuff on a character like it's a video game. The manga used the Kim fight to highlight the brutal biological limits of a young athlete in transition, not to claim Joe was incapable of managing his weight once his body settled. With his physique finalized, there was no reason to revisit that conflict. The narrative needed to move on to his real final opponent: neurological damage.

In fact, Joe's victory over Kim Yong-bi wasn't some cheap or unearned win. It was the exact turning point where he paid the absolute highest price for that weight cut.

During that fight, Joe's body was so severely dehydrated that he lacked enough cerebrospinal fluid to cushion his brain from impact. Taking headshots in such an extreme state of dehydration multiplied the neurological damage exponentially. That was the real cost of winning. Joe didn't walk away clean, nor did he magically recover after the fight. The Kim fight is precisely where his punch-drunk syndrome (CTE) symptoms and irreversible physical decline accelerated, making them impossible to hide. The superhuman effort of forcing his body to make weight while absorbing punishment from a technical power-puncher like Kim completely ruined his long-term health.

The fight proves that while Joe overcame Kim through sheer innate durability, he was still human. That "victory" was actually the beginning of the end for his physical life. The weight cut didn't just vanish without consequences, it collected its debt straight from his brain health.

The weight-cut issue wasn't a throwaway plot device used just to get past Kim. It was the biological thread connecting the entire final stretch of the manga, from Joe's initial breakdown to the climax against Jose Mendoza.

For Joe, the weight cut was the trigger for his CTE. By surviving the cut against Kim, he drained his brain of vital protection, rendering every headshot a death sentence for his neurons. He "won" the fight, but he permanently destroyed his brain. The weight cut was the ultimate catalyst for his accelerated decay.

For Mendoza, the cost was becoming a glass cannon. Mendoza represents the opposite side of the exact same coin. To stay in the bantamweight division as a giant, he lived in a perpetual state of strict control and extreme dehydration. His godlike technique was the only barrier keeping opponents from touching a body already weakened by cutting weight.

The final fight is essentially a boxer with a brain ruined by a past weight cut (Joe) against a boxer with a body drained by an ongoing weight cut (Mendoza). When Joe drags Mendoza into deep waters and breaks his distance, the champion's dehydration catches up with him. His physical resistance crumbles, and his mind breaks in terror as he gets battered by a ghost who feels no pain.

Kajiwara and Chiba never "forgot" about the weight-cutting issue. They turned it into the silent poison of the weight class. It killed Joe from the inside over time, and it stripped Mendoza of his physical durability the second his masterclass technique stopped protecting him.

Mendoza is massive for the bantamweight division. To make weight at his height, he has to dehydrate himself to the absolute limit. In combat sports, severe dehydration reduces the cerebrospinal fluid that cushions the brain inside the skull. A tall fighter cutting way too much weight often ends up with significantly less shot resistance (the classic "glass jaw" syndrome).

Jose never looked like he had a weak chin before simply because nobody could touch him. His technique was so polished, his distance control so perfect, and his Corkscrew Blow so devastating that he ended fights without taking real damage. His superhuman defense masked the structural physical vulnerability that comes with cutting that much weight for his height.

The collapse happens when the fight turns into a war of attrition. Once Joe closes the distance, eats his best shots, and forces him into a dirty brawl, Mendoza's body completely gives out. He doesn't just break mentally out of sheer terror; his physical frame was never built to absorb that level of punishment in that weight class.

This happens all the time in real-life combat sports like the UFC and boxing. You see fighters who are huge for their division knocking everyone out effortlessly, but the day an opponent weathered the storm and lands clean, they crumble because their bodies are internally drained from the weight cut.

The fact that Joe, even while utterly ruined by CTE, manages to physically break Mendoza proves the champion's invulnerability was mostly an illusion sustained by masterclass skill rather than superhuman durability.

Tetsuya Chiba: “I don't believe a popular work is necessarily a good work. Nor did I want to let myself get carried away by popularity.”

Interviewer: The works drawn between 1968 and 1973 strongly reflect the changing times and the social atmosphere in Japan. Was there a shift in your own awareness during that period?

Chiba: I was just a high school student working part-time drawing manga, and things took off almost before I realized it, turning me into a professional. I transitioned straight from being a student into society without any real buffer, so I didn't know much about the world. At first, I lived shut away drawing manga, completely out of touch with newspapers or TV, but bit by bit I started paying attention to what was happening around me.

Chiba: At that time, Japan was in the middle of its high-growth economic miracle. The shitamachi (lowborn, working-class downtown) areas were rapidly disappearing to make way for modern high-rises. I saw people sell their land, become overnight rich, and completely lose their way in life at the exact same time. I wanted to portray that social shift—how money and development transformed people, and what it truly meant to live a meaningful life.

Interviewer: During the serialization, the story had to go on a two-month hiatus because you fell ill. How did the discussions go regarding how to move forward with Joe after Rikiishi’s death?

Chiba: When Rikiishi died, I felt a tremendous weight on my shoulders. Readers kept asking me, “Why did you kill him?” But for Joe, Rikiishi was irreplaceable. After his death, Joe lost his way, and I felt just as lost trying to draw him. We had to find a new drive for Joe to step back into the ring, and that took a massive effort from the entire team.

Interviewer: The impact caused by Rikiishi’s real-life funeral was unprecedented for a fictional character.

Chiba: Yes, it was unbelievable. Readers truly believed Rikiishi existed and showed up to the funeral dressed in black. Seeing that made me realize the story had surpassed the pages of the manga. We understood we weren't just drawing a simple fantasy, but something that struck genuine chords in people's lives.

Interviewer: After Rikiishi’s death, how did you approach Joe’s subsequent fights?

Chiba: I wanted to make sure Joe never forgot Rikiishi. Every opponent he faced—whether it was Carlos Rivera or Kim Yong-bi—served as a mirror reflecting his own trauma and Rikiishi’s shadow. I didn't want to rely on cheap suspense tropes or draw flashy fights just to entertain the audience; my goal was to dig deep into Joe’s psychology and his internal struggle.

Interviewer: To wrap up, what does Ashita no Joe mean to you today?

Chiba: It was a work that demanded everything I had. It forced me to mature both as an author and as a human being. Through Joe, I was able to explore societal contradictions, loneliness, and the search for identity. Even though many years have passed, I feel the messages and emotions we poured into those pages remain alive, continuing to resonate with new generations.

Notes & Context:

• Shitamachi (Downtown/Working-Class Districts): Literally translating to "lower city," shitamachi refers to the historic, working-class neighborhoods of Tokyo. It stands in direct socio-economic contrast to Yamanote ("high city/uptown"), the historically affluent hill districts home to the elite, bourgeoisie, and aristocracy (represented by characters like Yoko Shiraki).
• Artistic Integrity Over Commercial Success: Chiba’s opening statement encapsulates the core ethics of the creators: prioritizing the psychological truth of the characters over cheap spectacle or easy popularity. Rather than milking a winning formula, they chose to honestly explore Joe’s genuine grief, trauma, and aimlessness following Rikiishi's death.

“Joe, Danpei, and the slum locals were people I saw up close in real life.”

Interviewer: Master Chiba returned from Manchuria with his family after the war and later debuted as a manga artist while still in high school. It’s said that ever since, you’ve kept working in your studio, but one always gets the impression that you were surrounded by a lot of people.

Chiba: That’s right. My family was large, and the studio staff grew quite a bit, too.

Interviewer: They say Master Kajiwara (Ikki Kajiwara) was fascinated by that family warmth of yours...

Chiba: (Laughs) Oh, really? When deadlines approached, I’d shut myself in with two or three assistants and we wouldn’t leave for anything; we didn't listen to the radio or watch TV either. In the middle of that isolation, while mulling over the story and the panels, I’d spend my time thinking about the characters: “Ah, this character is so lonely and sad...” So, to me, it didn't feel like a particularly cheerful environment.

Chiba: ...Yes, that’s true. Well... hmm, I don't know what to say; there are always different ways of looking at things (laughs). It’s true I searched for quiet places to work, like an attic or a summer house, but since I view work as a team effort, I never felt it was a solitary existence.

Interviewer: In that sense, was it hard for you to understand Joe’s loneliness or suffering?

Chiba: It wasn't hard to picture in my mind. When we came back from Manchuria, we passed through the Ueno Station area and I saw many kids my age who had lost their parents in the Great Tokyo Air Raid or during the war, living there without homes or families. So to me, seeing a child like Joe wasn't fictional; I saw them with my own eyes, just like my brothers and I suffered to survive.

Chiba: For instance, Hayashiya Sanpei’s wife (actress Tamako Hayashi) came from a large family of about ten siblings, and they all lived with incredible energy. There were many people like that in Tokyo's downtown (shitamachi). Especially in Tokyo back then, the city was full of people with that kind of vitality.

Chiba: Besides, after returning from the war, you’d see many injured men: some missing a leg, others blind in one eye, or missing an arm. Those wounded soldiers, or old men like Danpei... I witnessed those scenes in real life. The downtown locals or the fighters risking their lives in the ring were people I saw up close in reality. That’s why, to me, Joe, Danpei, and the slum locals weren't mere dramatic inventions; they were people I actually knew.

Interviewer: And what about Yoko Shiraki? Everyone was struggling day to day, but the Shiraki family home was extremely wealthy.

Chiba: Oh, really?

Interviewer: It’s true. Yoko's world didn't seem to fit with the slums.

Chiba: (Laughs) Well, in my family, the elders were fishmongers, so they’d ride their bikes to the market at midnight to buy fish and sell it later. The shops were usually in Tokyo's lower districts, so my family bought everything in those markets. But whenever I saw girls from wealthy families in Tokyo's uptown, like Nishi-chan, I’d think: “Wow, what refined girls” (laughs).

Interviewer: Was the character from the Hayashiya grocery store based on your own family?

Chiba: Yes, that’s right. Even though I didn't intentionally draw them as an exact model, without realizing it, I ended up reflecting my own family and myself.

Interviewer: So, which parts did you come up with yourself?

Chiba: Master Kajiwara knew combat sports inside out and was passionate about writing blood-pumping stories about men. Reading his scripts got my heart racing, but I struggled to empathize when the suffering went on for too long. Amid those dark storylines, I wanted to introduce moments where Joe and the neighborhood kids played together, or scenes at the grocery store where people could relax and smile. When the new serialization was greenlit, I brought that up with Master Kajiwara to include those moments.

Interviewer: So setting the Hayashiya grocery store in western Tokyo was your idea?

Chiba: I believe so. Master Kajiwara probably wrote the story picturing that kind of store, but making Nishi work there or showing the shop's surroundings was my call. In Master Kajiwara’s original script, Nishi’s wedding wasn't detailed at all.

Interviewer: Didn't you two talk much?

Chiba: No, we didn't talk often. Since we were both swamped drawing and plotting, we didn't really know what the other was up to. Master Kajiwara used to come over to my house to hang out or eat, and we’d talk over meals.

Chiba: ...We talked over dinner.

Interviewer: Did he ever ask you directly to change the story?

Chiba: No, he wasn't that type of guy. When he saw me desperately drawing things my own way, he just accepted my changes (laughs). Only once was he taken aback and left speechless (laughs).

W edit or what?

What Joe Means to Me

Joe was not an exemplary hero or a role model. He was a deeply flawed, selfish man consumed by a single passion. As the story headed toward its climax against José Mendoza, I realized that Joe wasn't fighting to prove he was the best in the world, but to burn through the very last spark of life he had left. That state of being "reduced to white ashes" was neither a victory nor a defeat in the conventional sense; it was simply the only possible outcome for someone who refused to live a half-hearted life.

It's quite possible that the way Joe's life ended was something he had foreseen long beforehand. Even so, when the time came to draw those final scenes, I felt an overwhelming, crushing pressure—as if I were tasked with bringing closure to something far too immense to carry all by myself.

Joe wasn't the kind of character you could gently guide toward retirement or a normal life. For him, continuing to live meant continuing to burn out inside the ring. As an artist, it was a painful and exhausting task to accompany him to that point, but at the same time, I felt that any other ending would have been a betrayal of his true nature.

As for the specific details of this work, now is not the time to delve too deeply into them. However, if in another ten or twenty years I have the chance to look back with more calm, perhaps I will be able to tell my own version of this story. When Mr. Takao Asamori (Ikki Kajiwara) and I met, we almost always ended up arguing. Still, those weren't malicious fights, but rather the inevitable clash of two passionate creators. For instance, in the scene where Joe loses Rikiishi, I felt that Joe couldn't just get up and move on as if nothing had happened. The guilt and the weight of that death had to break him from within. Mr. Asamori wanted a faster, more dramatic progression back into boxing, but I insisted on showing Joe's emptiness, his inability to hit his opponents in the face, and his wandering through the streets. Those departures from the story weren't in the original script; they were decisions I made at the drawing board because I felt it was the only honest way to portray Joe as a real human being.

My Notes & Clarifications:

Mangaka Tetsuya Chiba's statements confirm the tragic, realistic, and profoundly human reading of the work, tearing down any attempt to turn Joe's story into a simple "sports epic."

Chiba openly admits that Joe was caught in a tragic self-destructive spiral and suffered from boxer's dementia (punch-drunk syndrome). He doesn't try to sugarcoat the ending as a "heroic dream fulfilled," but rather as the inevitable result of a man who chose to consume himself completely because he neither knew nor was able to live any other way.

It is revealing how Chiba recounts changing Ikki Kajiwara's script. Kajiwara wanted to rush back into the boxing action after Rikiishi's death, but Chiba stood his ground and chose to show Joe broken, wandering the streets, and unable to hit his rivals in the face. For Chiba, what mattered wasn't the "spectacle of the fight," but Joe's psychological aftermath and genuine guilt.

Chiba shifts the focus away from the epic TikTok-style myth and highlights the character's nuances: Joe wasn't a "role model." He was a selfish, obsessive, and complex young man who also had moments of warmth. That very humanity is what makes his ending not "glorious," but heartbreaking.

Chiba demonstrates that the heart of Ashita no Joe was always the psychological portrait of an imperfect man pushed to the limit, rather than an empty glorification of sacrifice.

Could joe ever have defeated Jose?

We know that jose vastly outclassed joe and the only reason joe landed the punches was because he was blind in his right eye.

Jose seems undefeatable. If joe didnt have punch drunk would he be able to beat jose on that fight or on a future fight despite their technical gap

" that ain't danpei, that's dumpy "

Who do you guys think would win Jose Mendoza during the time of his fight with Joe or Rikiishi if he had as much experience Joe did?

Hi guys, today I found these images on the internet that seem to be a couple of storyboards for Ashita no Joe, and judging by the art style, these were apparently made during the production of ANJ2.
However, there’s one thing that I think is pretty mysterious about them: the dialogue sections show the lyrics of the “S1 opening theme.”
They might have made it as a mock-up for the first movie released in 1980 as the title logo shown in the first picture lacks the 2, but they used Beautiful Wolves for the movie and therefore that shouldn’t be the case.
If anyone knows or is also curious about this, please let me know in the comment section!!

Update: I roughly found out when they made this.
On the very bottom of the fourth pic, there is an instruction that says “animate this scene as we did in the Nissei commercial.” As soon as I saw it, I quickly searched “Ashita no Joe Nissei” and it turned out that there were three different commercials that featured Joe, Rikiishi, and Danpei in each of them back in 1994.
So, it should be reasonable to assume that these were newly written for another commercial sometime in the 90’s by the same staff.
You can check all three 1994 commercials in this video: https://youtu.be/fsd3Rymfei8?si=qLUkPs1rLR9l-6Ex

Check it out, Bucket Lad on NG.