Yoshinori Masakado’s First Instagram Live

“This is a good space to connect casually with everyone.”

On October 3, 2025, Ae! group’s Yoshinori Masakado opened an official Instagram account, and the announcement was shared through their official channels.

For an industry where personal social media for idols has only recently become normalized, Masakado’s step into it felt natural for an artist whose world has been expanding through acting, radio, stage, and music. And maybe also a recognition that connection doesn’t have to be reserved for the spotlight.

His first Instagram Live, streamed from Osaka after the opening day of his lead role in Twelfth Night, captured that perfectly. Nearly 30,000 viewers gathered even though it was late at night. The atmosphere wasn’t “event livestream”; it was closer to the feeling of talking with someone after a long day, when you’re too tired to perform and too comfortable to hide.

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What made it resonate wasn’t a single big moment—it was the little ones. The way he laughed at himself, the way he talked about theater nerves without brushing them aside, the way he kept thanking fans even while insisting he didn’t want to make a big deal out of the stream.

All the things we love about Masakado—the home your heart always returns to.

At one point, he joked, “I didn’t even plan anything. I just suddenly thought… maybe it’d be nice to talk to everyone tonight.” There was something disarming in how ordinary it was.

He spoke about Osaka audiences, about the warmth of opening night, about how much he enjoys performing while also wanting to protect his energy and his body through the run. And then—in classic Masakado rhythm—the sincerity flipped into playful banter as he started talking about his now‑legendary Instagram icon: the plain white background with his name in bold black text.

Apparently, at first, he wanted to do an “icon tournament” where everyone votes for the picture, because he couldn’t just choose a photo himself out of all the good photos (~~seriously, any Masakado photo is a good photo~~). It could have been a cool picture of his face, an off-shot from a magazine, or a monochrome private photo, but no. We got a simple icon with just his name.

“People said the full‑width letters stand out among stories, making it easy to notice,” he explained, as he talked about the icon. “And now I want to change it… but I can’t. It’s a little frustrating — I was planning to make the account stylish, you know?“

He laughed, almost embarrassed and almost proud at the same time: “I wasn’t even planning on keeping it. But if I change it now, you’re all going to complain, right?” It was teasing, but also affectionate—the kind of humor that only works when both sides already trust each other.

And part of the charm is that the icon is so simple, just like our love for him and his affection for us.

There’s an unexpected comfort in the everyday things he chooses to post: the casual snapshots, the spontaneous thoughts, and yes — the bed‑head photos that have already become their own tradition. They aren’t polished or curated. They’re reminders: I woke up today, and I’m still here. Sometimes that’s more intimate than any staged selfie.

“So I realized I never actually talked about why I started Instagram. To be honest, there’s no deep meaning behind it,” he said in the live, talking about how when he first made the account, he opened the question box immediately, and everyone sent so many reactions and questions. “I think I managed to read almost all of them. I probably didn’t answer everything, but I definitely saw a lot.“

The first ones in the group to join Instagram with solo accounts were Ken Kojima and Seiya Suezawa—each with their own distinctive style and narrative—followed by Masaya Sano on November 7.

As he continued to watch the first two enjoy their Instagram time, he started to imagine himself doing it in his own way.

“I thought, ‘Maybe I could enjoy it too.’ And once the idea formed, I just couldn’t resist anymore,” he said.

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Originally, he had wanted to launch his Instagram on his birthday—November 28th—but he wanted to do it so badly that they moved things up to match the Q&Ae broadcast, making it way earlier than planned. “I’m really enjoying Instagram, thanks to everyone. Thank you for all the comments.“

He explained that there’s no deep reason behind joining Instagram—it simply felt like the right moment. What he appreciates now is having a space where he can share parts of his life casually, not only work but also his hobbies and small everyday things in between. It has been only about a month since opening the account, but he already feels glad that he took the step, and hopes fans will continue enjoying the little moments as they unfold from here.

What Instagram has unlocked isn’t a new version of Masakado—it’s a new space for the version that already existed. He’s always been active on his FAMILY CLUB blog Masakadoing, but Instagram gives him another space where he can hit “upload” without overthinking, where fans can react in real time, and where the conversation can feel human instead of promotional.

It doesn’t replace theater, or music, or radio. It simply adds another way for fans to meet him—not just the idol Masakado, but the person navigating the present moment, with all the nerves, excitement, humor, and gratitude that come with it (and a five o’clock shadow).

He didn’t end the live like a performer wrapping a show—he ended it like someone who simply needed to sleep, but didn’t really want to leave. No grand sign‑off, no “see you at the next broadcast” with a date attached. Just gratitude, plain and warm, the way people speak when they mean it.

He thanked everyone not for their support, but for their time—a difference that mattered. And rather than promising another live, he left the door open in a way that felt more sincere: if he feels like chatting again, he’ll go live—and anyone who wants to drop by can join, no expectations attached.

It was a gentle “thank you,” a quiet certainty that today meant something, and a playful reminder—look forward to tomorrow’s bed‑hair.

It wasn’t really goodbye. It was “see you when we meet again.” A kind of digital version of 心の実家 — the place your heart returns to without needing an invitation.