<p class="bodytext">Tokyo 2020's cutesy Olympic mascots are plastered across the host city, but they have competition in mascot-mad Japan, where cuddly characters promote everything from prisons to health screenings.</p>.<p class="bodytext">In the land of Hello Kitty and Pokemon, adorable creatures give a friendly face to private businesses and public institutions alike, and the most successful have full-on celebrity status.</p>.<p class="bodytext">One cult favourite is punk-rock "pear fairy" Funassyi, who shot to fame a decade ago as an unofficial representative of Funabashi, a city east of Tokyo known for its juicy pears.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Of undefined gender and known for hyperactive TV stunts and good-natured misbehaviour, Funassyi has racked up nearly 1.4 million Twitter followers and is so popular that a simple walk down the street risks attracting a mob of fans.</p>.<p class="bodytext"><strong>Read more: <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/sports/other-sports/tokyo-kicks-off-games-amid-covid-19-fears-1011003.html" target="_blank">Tokyo kicks off Games amid Covid-19 fears</a></strong></p>.<p class="bodytext">"It's just normal for adults to adore mascots" in Japan, squeaked the bright yellow character in an interview with AFP.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"It's like we're friends," added the pear-shaped personality, who wears a plush blue romper and red bow tie, and famously worships Aerosmith and Ozzy Osbourne.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Experts have often suggested Japan's love of mascots is linked to animist religious traditions and beliefs in which inanimate objects can acquire a soul.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"Japanese people often anthropomorphise things," agrees Funassyi, whose founder remains a mystery.</p>.<p class="bodytext">And mascots can make big money.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Take Kumamon, a pot-bellied, red-cheeked bear who promotes southern Kumamoto region. The wildly popular mascot made 170 billion yen ($1.5 billion) last year for local businesses selling branded goods.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Funassyi won't divulge merchandise sales figures, but crowds of fans flock daily to the Funassyi Land shop in Funabashi to stock up on branded products.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The Olympic mascot tradition stretches back to Munich in 1972, when a dachshund called Waldi became the first official Games mascot.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Since then, each host country has invented its own character symbolising Olympic values and aspects of cultural heritage, with Tokyo's version the futuristic-looking Miraitowa, a blue-checkered character with comic book wide eyes and pointed ears.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Mascots are so big in Japan that Choko Ohira, 62, runs a school in Tokyo training people to perform as the cuddly characters.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"(Mascots) have the power to draw people in," said Ohira, who has run the school for 17 years.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"Children come with smiles on their faces. They hold hands and hug (the characters)," added Ohira, who spent years performing as a famous mouse on a children's show on public broadcaster NHK.</p>.<p class="bodytext">And the improbable performers give people a chance to let loose in a sometimes rigid society.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"With mascots, you can do things you wouldn't (with other people) in Japan," Ohira said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Her students, dressed casually, first practise the exaggerated waves and steps commonly used by mascots, before climbing into full-size panda, cat and chipmunk outfits to test their new skills.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Student Nobuko Fujiki, 61, said she sees a "different side" of herself when dressed as a mascot.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"In costume, I can be more friendly and more active," she said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">It's not the easiest of jobs: only a handful of mascots make big money, and mascot costumes can be heavy, hard to see out of, and unbearably hot in Japan's blazing summers.</p>.<p class="bodytext">But the former nursery teacher said the joy she feels makes up for any discomfort.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"I get so excited when I see a mascot. So I wanted to be on the other side, giving that feeling to other people," she said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Funassyi says fans often see the mascot as someone they can safely confide in.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"They ask me for advice about life and work... how to be friendly with a boss they hate, or what to do with a husband who doesn't properly put laundry away in the basket," the cult character said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"They want someone who acknowledges their efforts. I think they're looking for that in mascots."</p>.<p class="bodytext">Asako Iwatate, a 33-year-old office worker, said mascots have an almost "healing" effect for her.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"When I'm working, it's frantic and stressful," she told AFP.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"But when I see funny mascots, I feel like 'Oh, forget about all that'."</p>
<p class="bodytext">Tokyo 2020's cutesy Olympic mascots are plastered across the host city, but they have competition in mascot-mad Japan, where cuddly characters promote everything from prisons to health screenings.</p>.<p class="bodytext">In the land of Hello Kitty and Pokemon, adorable creatures give a friendly face to private businesses and public institutions alike, and the most successful have full-on celebrity status.</p>.<p class="bodytext">One cult favourite is punk-rock "pear fairy" Funassyi, who shot to fame a decade ago as an unofficial representative of Funabashi, a city east of Tokyo known for its juicy pears.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Of undefined gender and known for hyperactive TV stunts and good-natured misbehaviour, Funassyi has racked up nearly 1.4 million Twitter followers and is so popular that a simple walk down the street risks attracting a mob of fans.</p>.<p class="bodytext"><strong>Read more: <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/sports/other-sports/tokyo-kicks-off-games-amid-covid-19-fears-1011003.html" target="_blank">Tokyo kicks off Games amid Covid-19 fears</a></strong></p>.<p class="bodytext">"It's just normal for adults to adore mascots" in Japan, squeaked the bright yellow character in an interview with AFP.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"It's like we're friends," added the pear-shaped personality, who wears a plush blue romper and red bow tie, and famously worships Aerosmith and Ozzy Osbourne.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Experts have often suggested Japan's love of mascots is linked to animist religious traditions and beliefs in which inanimate objects can acquire a soul.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"Japanese people often anthropomorphise things," agrees Funassyi, whose founder remains a mystery.</p>.<p class="bodytext">And mascots can make big money.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Take Kumamon, a pot-bellied, red-cheeked bear who promotes southern Kumamoto region. The wildly popular mascot made 170 billion yen ($1.5 billion) last year for local businesses selling branded goods.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Funassyi won't divulge merchandise sales figures, but crowds of fans flock daily to the Funassyi Land shop in Funabashi to stock up on branded products.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The Olympic mascot tradition stretches back to Munich in 1972, when a dachshund called Waldi became the first official Games mascot.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Since then, each host country has invented its own character symbolising Olympic values and aspects of cultural heritage, with Tokyo's version the futuristic-looking Miraitowa, a blue-checkered character with comic book wide eyes and pointed ears.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Mascots are so big in Japan that Choko Ohira, 62, runs a school in Tokyo training people to perform as the cuddly characters.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"(Mascots) have the power to draw people in," said Ohira, who has run the school for 17 years.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"Children come with smiles on their faces. They hold hands and hug (the characters)," added Ohira, who spent years performing as a famous mouse on a children's show on public broadcaster NHK.</p>.<p class="bodytext">And the improbable performers give people a chance to let loose in a sometimes rigid society.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"With mascots, you can do things you wouldn't (with other people) in Japan," Ohira said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Her students, dressed casually, first practise the exaggerated waves and steps commonly used by mascots, before climbing into full-size panda, cat and chipmunk outfits to test their new skills.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Student Nobuko Fujiki, 61, said she sees a "different side" of herself when dressed as a mascot.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"In costume, I can be more friendly and more active," she said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">It's not the easiest of jobs: only a handful of mascots make big money, and mascot costumes can be heavy, hard to see out of, and unbearably hot in Japan's blazing summers.</p>.<p class="bodytext">But the former nursery teacher said the joy she feels makes up for any discomfort.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"I get so excited when I see a mascot. So I wanted to be on the other side, giving that feeling to other people," she said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Funassyi says fans often see the mascot as someone they can safely confide in.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"They ask me for advice about life and work... how to be friendly with a boss they hate, or what to do with a husband who doesn't properly put laundry away in the basket," the cult character said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"They want someone who acknowledges their efforts. I think they're looking for that in mascots."</p>.<p class="bodytext">Asako Iwatate, a 33-year-old office worker, said mascots have an almost "healing" effect for her.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"When I'm working, it's frantic and stressful," she told AFP.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"But when I see funny mascots, I feel like 'Oh, forget about all that'."</p>