National Yoyogi Gymnasium No.1

The concrete shell of the National Yoyogi Gymnasium No. 1 curves over Shibuya like a wave frozen in mid-swell. The roof, a sweeping cantilever of reinforced concrete, is the work of Kenzo Tange and Yoshikatsu Tsuboi. It remains the only building in Tokyo to carry the weight of the 1964 Summer Olympics and still hold the status of an Important Cultural Property.

Inside, the seating runs steeply up the walls, boxed in by the curved concrete. Where the stands meet the ceiling, circular vents are set into the grey surface. A sign reading "Closed" hangs from a chair in one corner of the empty arena, a small white rectangle against the blue plastic. Beyond the row of seats, a large red circle on a white banner stretches across the upper tier.

The wooden floor sits below. It is not grass, but timber laid in strips, scarred by decades of play. The space holds 12,934 people when it is full, a number that swells or shrinks with the temporary seats dragged onto the floor for concerts. The building has never changed its name, unlike its neighbour across the park. It has always been the First Gymnasium.

On the day the sun hits the exterior, the crowd gathers on the concrete steps outside. White tents go up for the merchandise stalls before the doors open. Inside, the humidity stays steady regardless of the season. The acoustics carry a voice from the edge of the court to the back row without effort.

The floor has seen the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim skate across it in 1997 and 1998, long before the ice rink became a common fixture for touring acts. It has also hosted the diving events of the old Olympics and the handball finals of the new ones. Now, it sits between the heavy history of the sixties and the daily grind of the V.League and B.League. One mistake ends the game, but the arena keeps going.