Cottle’s photos are worlds apart from usual media depictions of the gang, all suits, samurai swords and sleazy alleyways. In 893 Yakuza, some members are seen naked and lying in the bath, their tattoos – a symbol of loyalty and dedication to the organisation – on full display.

“I wanted to challenge the common perception we have of these men,” Cottle says. ​“I’m fascinated by the tattoos they have and the stories they tell.” The photographer’s specific interest in the tattoos came from a visit to a bathhouse in Tokyo’s red-light district, Kabukicho. Sat next to a yakuza member with an impressive back-piece, he ended up having a conversation ​“in very broken English”.

“I can’t imagine this kind of interaction would have happened unless we were both naked,” Cottle says. ​“I also would have had no idea he was affiliated with them if I were to see him fully dressed in the day. They are very discreet.”

In an organisation where honour and respect rules, Cottle, as a result of his work, now has a different perspective of the gang altogether – especially since the yakuza has been in steep decline since the 1950s.

As a result of their hardened reputations, many members aren’t able to take out bank accounts, phone contracts, travel freely or even get insurance.

“A lot of the members are shunned by society, so much so that older members are getting prosthetic replacement fingers to hide their past,” Cottle says. ​“Much like a caged animal, which I can see is how society may view them.”