Random Curiosity

A rare battle scene where no one’s naked.

Akamatsu Ken manga are notoriously difficult to adapt. Unlike, say, Arakawa Hiromu, whose manga can damn near be used as storyboards, Akamatsu-sensei takes too many diversions, adds too many characters, takes too long getting to the point, and adds in too many chapters that seem like (and occasionally are) just silly fluff. The end result as a manga is delightful—his action is stirring, his comedy is hilarious, and he can deftly switch between world-ending drama and goofy romcom hijinks in the middle of a scene—but too much of it depends on the particular eccentricities of manga, which don’t always translate comfortably to anime. (Ex: he’s a master of slipping extra side comments into a panel that are super hilarious, but which would eat up too much time in an anime.) His stories amble toward their ultimate conclusions, but the entire trip really is important. Without it, you’re getting a shell of a story. The only real way to adapt an Akamatsu Ken manga properly is to adapt every single chapter, even the ones that don’t seem important, because they are. But no one greenlights 100+ episodes for a fantasy action ecchi romcom epic battle anime. Not anymore.

So UQ HOLDER! ~Mahou Sensei Negima! 2~ was saddled with an impossible task. A task I had a feeling was impossible even before I read the manga, and now that I’ve caught up on it, I realize how right I was. How much I undersold the herculean task, if anything. With the heavy lore/characters of Negima intertwining with the new UQ Holder additions—not to mention it needing to serve not only as a sequel to Negima, but to in some ways make up for and finish Negima’s original story, which was cut short—this is a bear of a manga to adapt.

So. How’d they do?

Fine. It didn’t end up being a good anime, but given the task the anime team did a decent job. For non-manga readers, this adaptation covered (loosely) 134 chapters of manga, which—I mean, how were they going to do that well? Other than trying to do far less, which would have been my pitch, even if the stopping point they were trying to get to was a good one. Like I said, Akamatsu Ken stories tend to meander, and this one does it even more so than Negima or Love Hina. (Okay, actually less than Love Hina, but that was so much lighter on plot that you could stop almost anywhere.)

There are certain decisions that I find unforgivable, chief among them the absence of Santa. For non-manga readers, I’ll only say that leaving out Santa is like leaving out Kotarou in the original Negima anime, and was likely done for similar reasons—but it can’t all be haremettes. I mean, it can be if that’s the plan, but c’mon! Santa, as Kotarou was before him, is vital to the plot! Did you notice how Albireo Imma (Ku:nel Sanders) was conspicuously absent from the final fight? That’s because Santa wasn’t there to fight him, and without Santa, Albiereo would have wrecked havoc on the others and Team Negi-Ialda would have easily won. Leaving him out is especially unforgivable because it was so easy to fix—even if you’re not doing his arc, just have him be part of UQ Holder from the beginning, like Ikku was. It wouldn’t be the same, but at least he’d be there.

Other deleted characters had huge impacts on the story, Dana chief among them. Though it really comes down to what always happens when you try to condense 134 chapters into 12 episodes: all context is lost. The connections are lost. Nothing makes sense, because all the connective tissue that makes this (admittedly convoluted) plot work in stretched-out manga form was completely absent here. Does an anime-only viewer know why Touta is so important, other than the clone thing? Because that alone isn’t the reason. It’s what that means that is important. But we never hear about it. Without that, their plan to beat Negi-Ialda doesn’t make sense, because they don’t really have one. Which makes sense, since the battle comes so quickly after other events that it’s not like they had time to grapple with the danger upon them.

Other problems are easier to fix, such as the piss-poor animation. It doesn’t look like UQ Holder got much in the way of budget, and it shows. Then there was the pacing, which is very difficult to get right. I think Akamatsu anime need a gifted comedy director at the helm, because one of Akamatsu-sensei’s greatest strengths is that he lays out scenes and uses the pacing of a hijinks-filled romcom, even if he’s writing a bunch of action—which is to say, UQ Holder needs the energy of a romcom for the story to work. This anime never had that. Which is somewhat surprising since Suzuki Youhei has some good credits to his name, but maybe it wasn’t enough to make up for the everliving rush, or the lack of budget hurt him here too.

The funny thing is that this adaptation is a classic case of hitting a lot of the memorable moments/images, but neutering them by not understanding or conveying the connections that made them so memorable originally. It’s Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice thinking—just get Batman in that metal suit and the fanboys will go wild, it doesn’t matter if none of it makes sense!—where as long as you hit the right scenes then it should all work out. Which is extra crazy, since Akamatsu-sensei himself did series composition for this anime! So maybe he knew too much, or more likely, there was just no way to put all the connections in. Not with twelve episodes and a shit budget. This anime was doomed as soon as they decided to adapt up to ch134 in a single cour. Everything else was just deciding on the particular flavor of failure—though prioritizing contextless action and harem hijinks probably didn’t help. Once again: RIP Santa. You were missed.

But in the end, this was probably 80% of as good of an adaptation as this anime was ever going to get, once they made that initial (fatal) decision to adapt so much. That’s not exactly praise, it’s just a hard assessment of the truth. They were screwed from that decision, so the fact that they more or less kept the wheels on—and some changes even kind of worked, as long as you don’t think too much about the gaping plotholes they left—is impressive in a way. Things threatened to fall apart in the last two episodes though, and that weird 3-A dream sequence in the middle of the last battle was pretty pointless.

I wouldn’t recommend the UQ Holder anime to anyone, but the manga is still good. Take the time to read it if you haven’t yet. It’s time well spent. I just wish the anime team had taken more time, so they could luxuriate in those early chapters, rather than speeding toward failure.

Now, I’m going to end on some comments about the manga, mostly from chapters that take place after this adaptation ends (so ch135+). If you haven’t caught up on the manga, don’t click on the tag below. Seriously, don’t do it. Go read the manga, THEN click on it. Or just read the manga. It’s good stuff.

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Either way, UQ Holder manga still rocks. Glad I finally caught up on it, even if I didn’t get a whole lot out of the anime in the end. Such is life, at least where Akamatsu Ken anime adaptations are concerned.

My SECOND novel, Freelance Heroics, is available now! (Now in print!) (Also available: Firesign #1 Wage Slave Rebellion.) Sign up for my email list for updates. At stephenwgee.com, the latest post: The Last Jedi SUPER SPOILERY Review.

「胎動」 (Taidou)
“Instigation”

While disappointing (but unsurprising) that Altair has no sequel in its foreseeable future, it makes me happy knowing the finale held nothing back when it came to the show’s underlying themes. Simplistic good and evil and a fight for survival was firmly dispensed with, showing at last the true situation of states (and people) fighting not just for life, but for dominance. Altair always had a tinge of politics’ inherent subjectivity undercutting its many events, but it took until now with Turkiye’s rise to prominence to fully reveal the elephant in the room. No matter the day and age, no matter the form of intention, states (and people) always strive for the same thing: survival through any means necessary.

Mahmut of course retains his good nature this week, firmly committed to helping the people of Cielo and limiting the impact of war, but it’s tragically ironic how through all his harsh learning he still cannot see the frailty of his ideals. War for all its suffering will never disappear, there will always be one in a position of power who sees violence as the only recourse. Halting the war (or reckoning) with Balt-Rhein does nothing but delay the inevitable, the empire’s potential reforms may work for a time, but new circumstances always arise and old solutions can quickly prove obsolete. As Mahmut will quickly come to learn with his rejection of the verified cannon technology, if an idea exists, it never takes long before someone with less stringent morals takes full advantage of it.

In the same vein, however, Zaganos’ own dreams of peace through empire are flawed. Eradicating all those who wish for war may be a solution, but it’s one conveniently ignoring the subsequent creation of more seeking it anew. Zaganos never really seems to consider this, acknowledging the limitations of his own views while ignoring the long term dangers. Turkiye could very well win and forge a benevolent empire, but such things always—always—turn into the very thing they are fighting Balt-Rhein over. It may take 10 years, a hundred, or even a thousand, but every state (like every life) eventually succumbs to the idiosyncrasies of the next generation. Quite funny how Louis of all people apparently understands this, seeking an image and standard of empire to pass the test of time in place of some eternal peace. Balt-Rhein may perish in the fights to come, but if Louis has his way, its system of empire (much like Rome’s for us) will set the gold standard for generations to come.

For a series so focused on the politics of nation-states, it’s the perfect debate for Altair to leave off on.

Final Impressions

Coming into Altair, I never expected to wind up loving it. Arslan Senki (particularly its second season) had left a bad taste in my mouth, and with Altair promising a similar style of story, my expectations were low. Couple it with Altair’s slow start and its relative dryness and it truly seemed destined for the drop pile. Then, however, the politics started emerging, Mahmut started developing, and by hell did Altair’s writing and research start shining on through. It was a story with an unassuming coat, but that inch-wide image concealed material a mile deep.

The important thing to consider with Altair is that it’s a niche series. It may be a tale of characters and Mahmut’s rise and redemption, but it’s ultimately about the countries and their struggles. You must have an interest or curiosity in political science (particularly international relations) to get the most out of it, you must care for the rise and fall of states, find intrigue in their actions, explanations for their contradictions. Geography, economics, military strategy, even the personal whims of leaders, all factor in to how Altair’s story plays out. It’s certainly possible finding enjoyment without once considering these elements or giving them serious thought, but a lot of the meaning and reasoning behind particular developments would be lost. Mahmut’s own personal moral struggles, Zaganos’ strategy, the explanation for Louis’ schemes, fully appreciating these various facets for example demands broad knowledge to see why each plays out in its own way and why Altair shows them to all be flawed at their core. So long as you have the political bug it’s the most potent form of crack possible, but you first must have the bug to understand why.

Structurally, however, Altair’s true weakness would have to be its pacing. There’s no beating around the bush, the show rushed awfully fast, with the civil war arc arguably being the worst case, and even outright skipping another arc entirely. Characters were introduced and subsequently forgotten about in the span of a single episode, details revealed in the blink of an eye with often little time spared to properly digest them. This show at times sorely tested one’s ability to stay focused and comprehend all the intertwined tangents, which in part may explain the distaste some had for it overall. Altair certainly made the most out of the situation by remaining remarkably coherent from start to finish, but coupled with its inherent political focus it often became a show more about “bland” political machinations than the trials and tribulations of key characters. It’s debatable whether Altair could have broadened its audience reach with a more imaginative adaptation, but there’s no denying (at least for me) that it succeeded with flying colours with the story it set out to tell.

While Altair will likely fade away forgotten in the seasons to come, it is for me one of the strongest historical fantasy series we have received in a good while. As a political show it did everything right, displaying tremendous knowledge and an innate understanding of international order few anime have ever succeeded with. Sure it may never ascend beyond niche status the way the likes of Gundam, Code Geass, or hell even Valkyria Chronicles have, but for those of us who enjoy the nuances of collective human conflict, it’s the show that will never stop giving. For a series so rich in this type of material, there’s no higher praise.

「羊たちの草原」 (Hitsuji-tachi no Sougen)
“Fields of Sheep”

What an odd way to end this. Of all the stories to end on, they choose one where Kino has to fight against a swarm of killer sheep. To say this was ridiculous and out of place for the series would be an understatement. To go from all of these relatively deep yet fantastical journeys into dystopian and utopian societies to Kino moving down CGI sheep as she sets them on fire and jumps over a ravine in Evel Knievel fashion was a misfire. The final note was nice because I would like to see a lot more of the series, and would be open to seeing another season or movie emerge from the returning interest in making more material for Kino, especially with Aoi Yuuki on board. Still, This doesn’t leave the series on a high note, and would have been much better served either cut entirely from the remake or positioned somewhere in the middle. It just seems like there were so many great contenders for where to end it such as the Country for Adults, the Kind Country, or Various Countries, but Fields of Sheep was not a good choice.

Final Impressions:

The most important thing that this revamp of Kino no Tabi has done is refresh the audience’s memories about how great the series was. It glosses through some of Kino’s most memorable stories in a way that is sure to please those who have been itching to see them animated in all their glory. Unfortunately, this revamp is better served as a reminder to check out the original stories or the older anime since this newer show speeds through much of the material. As a result, it loses the emotional core that made many of the stories compelling, and does a disservice to the philosophical conversations that the stories tried to start by racing to their conclusion.

By all means, it is an anime that is still worth watching. Most of the episodes are very well-done in getting their points across on Kino’s perspective and what she learns about the towns she visits. The artwork is stunning, and does an efficient job at incorporating some CGI without it being overly jarring or disappointing. And above all else, Yuuki Aoi remains to be a force to be reckoned with as she did an amazing job at capturing the multiple layers of Kino. Her aloof, neutral behavior she normally expresses outwardly, the vulnerabilities during her Sakura days, and the out-of-character moments where Kino is genuinely frustrated or amused are all portrayed effectively by Yuuki, and any fears that she would be miscast went out the window with her performance in the first episode.

If there’s anything to take away from the series, it’s that Kino no Tabi is still worth investing time into. The lessons and musings we get from her journeys are just as important and significant as they were when the first anime and light novel translations were released. You might not get the most optimal experience of her travels out of this anime and might work better as fanservice for those who have already read/seen the stories before, but that doesn’t undercut how terrific the series is. I would hope that this remake is able to give the series enough momentum to grow, and eventually bring Yuuki back to portray her again, preferably in a movie or OVA. Until then, we still have the light novels to look forward to!

「地球の人たち」 (Chikyuu no Hito-tachi)
“People of Earth”

Asteroids, tales of redemption…and Donald Trump? Well I think there’s no denying Inuyashiki knows how to make the most out of a finale. Frankly I knew what was coming this week having spoiled myself a couple weeks earlier, but the results still left me smiling nonetheless. Say what you want about pacing troubles or ridiculous world-ending plot resolutions, but there’s something fun about watching all of Inuyashiki’s various pieces come together much the same way it started: with a bang. Plus we also arguably got the best impression of a President Trump responding to impending world doom, so there’s that.

I think I’m coming to love this current timeline of ours.

Final Impressions

When this season rolled around, Inuyashiki had to be the show I was most looking forward to. It was sci-fi, it had a sexagenarian lead, and came from none other than Gantz’ author. I would be hard pressed denying my excitement, and while I probably hyped it more than I should have, I’m quite content with the results.

The key for Inuyashiki is treating it as glorified popcorn entertainment. Popcorn entertainment with bite yes, but popcorn entertainment nonetheless. While the show features some remarkable development in regards to Hiro and features a surprisingly strong tale of humanity relating to Ichiro’s personal redemption, these elements are never the dominant aspect. Questions such as why Hiro was at the park in the first place, why Ichiro’s family had the sudden 180 in the last episode, or why Mari received fleshing out (but Takeshi did not) are never answered, replaced instead by shock-inducing scenes and some ingenious mass murder situations. It’s a story meant to visually awe and impress, using a set of increasingly outrageous thrills to patch over a noticeably thin framework and hide the shallow depths below. Much like the over the top summer blockbuster, thinking too hard here will only invite frustration, caring too heavily about the plot inducing annoyance. Inuyashiki is an imperfect story, but makes up for it in style.

Story issues aside, if there was a major problem with Inuyashiki it would be in animation and pacing. MAPPA has been a noticeable tear of late, but there’s no denying Inuyashiki (much like Shoukoku no Altair) has received the proverbial short end of the animating stick, using large amounts of CGI and featuring some hilarious visuals even by B-grade movie standards (and trust me, I’ve seen plenty *stares at his disaster movie collection*). The choice of CG makes sense considering the intricacy of Inuyashiki’s robots, but how it turned out will likely put off some expecting “better”, particularly for the action scenes. Moments of rushing too did not help Inuyashiki either, with certain developments barely touched on before the next big thing hit the screen. This was arguably most noticeable in the finale, but even elements such as Ichiro’s family featured throughout could have done with more screen time to help flesh out otherwise weak details. Hiro after all received significant development throughout, it would only be fair to provide Ichiro (the titular character of the show) and his family similar care and attention. Heck one additional episode likely would have been enough, if just to better buffer the change in Ichiro’s family following his mechanical reveal. Stories never need to answer every little concern (and some certainly provide too much detail), but the more they can give the better enjoyment the audience often finds.

While Inuyashiki is not the best thing since sliced bread, it arguably did the job it had to: entertain. Sure it may have been lacking in spots, but by hell was it never boring when it came to both action and catharsis, and definitely gave me the feels on a few separate occasions. The only thing holding it back is that it could have been so much more. Just a few more explanations, a little more character development, a better thought out (or paced) ending, simple additions like these potentially could have transformed this from just a good show into a great one. We probably will never know what Inuyashiki could have been with a little more elbow grease (depending on how the live action version turns out), but what we received here is more than enough to satisfy the appetite. Imperfect though it may be, Inuyashiki is at least deserving of a watch from anyone with the curiosity. One way or another, it’s a show that will not disappoint.

「スリーマンセル、結成…?」 (Surii manseru, kessei?)
“Formation of the Three-Man Squad?”

Direct Appeal

Okay, I’ll confess this made very little sense to me. All of a sudden, by the edicts of the story, Boruto and Sarada are unable to work together, somehow forgetting the various occasions where they teamed up to kick ass. You can’t call this development, so much as regression, and I’m seriously blaming the scriptwriters, because introducing drama is unnecessary where it ends up contradicting what has already been established. While I appreciate attempts at character building, tearing down the progress made up till this point is outright lazy, if not completely counterintuitive from the viewer’s perspective. Then again, kids will be kids, and it’s a silly reaction that isn’t implausible. That said, I’m not happy with the direction they chose to take in this episode.

A Lesson in Teamwork

When your Pokemon accidentally forgets a really important move, the only thing you can do is go back to the Move Relearner and cough up that Heart Scale. Fortunately, shinobi kids aren’t bound to video game mechanics, so it will just take a good challenge to knock sense back into them. To that end, Mirai is there to obstruct them from easily accessing Naruto, doing her best Gandalf impression on the wooden bridge. While she’s easily one of the coolest characters in recent times, showcasing some impressive skills during the fight, she ultimately underestimates her opponents.

I have no doubt that she’s actually stronger than Boruto and Sarada – that much is clear when Sarada couldn’t detect any exploitable weakness through her Sharingan. This is simply speculation, but assuming she could have infused chakra into her blades, Mirai could have easily sliced Boruto’s kunai to bits. Instead, she falls for the trap, and pays the price by being left to hang under the bridge. I hope Mirai gets an opportunity to redeem herself in the future, because she’s shaping up to be a really awesome character, and I have concerns that this loss probably decreased people’s estimations of her actual capabilities.

Concluding Thoughts

Wanting to do better than the original Team 7 isn’t something I would consider an achievement. Though the members were no doubt some of the strongest shinobi in their generation, their accomplishments as individuals far outweighed their successes as a team. In fact, we shouldn’t be forgetting how Sasuke tried to kill both Naruto and Sakura. And apart from Kaguya, I’m fairly sure that they never ever fought together against a significant antagonist. When passing down the legend, I get that some details need to be fudged, so that Sasuke can go back to living an ordinary life in the village following his evil crimes. But I’m disappointed that the older generation chose to be selective in their representation, with Sarada seeming to have absolutely no inkling about the truth. One day, the beans are going to get spilled, and ain’t that gonna be a pretty sight?

Though I have criticised the scriptwriters in this episode, some praise should be allocated where deserved. So far, despite clearly having incredible powers, the script absolutely refuses to have Mitsuki bail out the story, whenever the going gets rough. That’s something worthy of admiration, because it shows a dedication to properly forging ahead with making this Boruto’s story. Incidentally, Mitsuki Gaiden seems to be next on the agenda. Although I’m up to speed with the manga, I’m super excited to see my favourite character finally receiving the limelight.

Preview

P.S. – With the academy days drawing to a close, RIP Shino

「銀の羽根 / 川景色」 (Gin no Hane / Kawa keshiki)
“Silver Feathers / River Scenery”

I feel like I spent a great deal of last episode’s post looking at how Rei cheered up Hina, so I want to talk about something different, and focus on who I felt was the most valuable character in this episode.

Junkei Yamazaki

Trust Umino Chica to construct a seemingly monstrous person, then utterly humanise them to prove us wrong. Junkei Yamazaki walked a difficult path, and we finally got to see his viewpoint. With Kiriyama typically being the primary focus, sometimes it’s hard to try and consider events from another perspective. Turns out Yamazaki is just some average bloke with down to earth hobbies, born with a lesser talent for shogi, yet striving to make ends meet.

What seemed like an underhanded strategy, was actually a reasonable choice from Yamazaki’s position. Careers are on the line in professional shogi – a moment of sympathy could culminate in a downward spiral costing your livelihood. I’d say most people would press their advantage in the same situation, for good reasons too. The harsh reality is that offering sympathy becomes a noblesse oblige, where only the very best can indulge in such a practice. Hence what some consider an unfair exploitation of Nikaidou, is simply another man’s desperate survival.

And he wasn’t malicious either. Even Yamazaki was visibly horrified by his own actions, and remorse was etched all over his face, following Nikaidou’s collapse. It’s also easier to forgive Yamazaki after he demonstrated an incredible capacity for empathy and love. The care he put into rearing pigeons is 100% genuine, and his heartfelt grief at losing Gin hit me so hard. He already had very little to enjoy about life, and seeing him come to grips with losing one of the things he cared about the most was extremely upsetting.

“Just imagining it lying wounded and suffering somewhere was enough to make me feel overcome with grief” – Junkei Yamazaki

God damn it Shaft, you’ve done it again. I didn’t even come close to crying when reading this scene in the manga! And it’s all too relatable, wondering how people you care about are faring through the course of life life, and contemplating whether they’re living in happiness or despair without a way of truly knowing.

Concluding Thoughts

I admire how Yamazaki continues to pursue his passions, in spite of the fear and doubt persistently consuming his very soul. Many people would have their conviction shaken, to the point of being shattered. One particular example that comes to mind would be Rei’s opponent from the first season, who facilitated Rei’s initial breakdown. Junkei’s talk of diving into pitch black water to look for answers really resonates with me, because that’s an experience I’m currently having at university. I look at all these people around me, who have it in them to dive deeper at any opportunity, whereas I feel totally paralysed in my search for a solution. Is it a fear of being wrong, or mere disinterest in the crux of the subject matter? That’s hard to say, perhaps it’s even a bit of both.

However, Yamazaki was able to endure and ultimately came out of the darkness. He sincerely apologises to Nikaidou, by gifting him a bouquet consisting of flowers handpicked from his own garden, and his goodwill seems rewarded by the return of his beloved Gin. Seeing a true love between man and pigeon that no one else can get between, Hatoful Boyfriend could certainly learn a thing or two. On a more serious note, I definitely cried yet again.

Sweet, Salty, Sweet, Salty. This cycle is not only limited to desserts, when 3-gatsu itself has been undergoing a similar process! Without the harder times, it’s really difficult to properly appreciate the good times, so I really love how 3-gatsu frequently alternates between the two. The future may be uncertain, and Yamazaki realistically has no chance of becoming Meijin, but at least he seems to really enjoy his rustic way of life. Though it’s something worth striving for, not everything is about becoming the very best. Being able to settle down after doing your very best is where it’s truly at.

End Card

P.S. – Someday, I’d also like to sit by a riverside with the love of my life, gazing vacantly across the natural scenery.

Just in time to enjoy Toshikoshi Soba for the New Year

Konohana Kitan was one of this season’s cozier slice-of-life anime as a comforting alternative to the zanier fare this season with emphasis on character development, tasteful yuri, and the mysticism of Japanese folklore. Yes, the fox-girls are incredibly cute in looks and personality as they interact with supernatural entities, but they are also nuanced characters with motivations and interests beyond working with each other at the inn. Yuzu is the glue that holds everyone together as the protagonist who aims to keep everyone united and energized when the going goes rough. Her positivity is an influence on the rest of her co-workers and the inn’s guests as they look up to her despite the deep respect she has for them as her superiors.

Satsuki, my personal favorite, is a no-nonsense employee who takes her work seriously, and expects her colleagues to do the same. But over time, we see insight into her vulnerabilities as she has to content with the expectations of having to fill in the shoes of her highly talented sister as a prospective miko. The gradual warmth she has towards Yuzu is something that slowly builds, and you get a sense that Satsuki’s feelings about her are strong despite not wanting to be outwardly about her emotional state.

Although Satsuki is too shy to express her fondness for Yuzu, the most heart-felt relationship is through Natsume and Ren. Ren, a perfectionist with high pride, has a not-so-secret crush on Natsume, her childhood friend whose tomboyish looks and personality won her over. Natsume initially acts oblivious to Ren’s affection, but over time, we learn that Natsume is observant of her and wants to spend more time with her. Sakura and Kiri don’t get as much attention, but Kiri as an older mentor figure for the girls is another great character on the show.

Within the last two episodes, we learned about a character I’ve been wanting to know about the most; Okami. At first, we see her as the stern yet caring inn-keeper who resembles an actual fox. By the end, however, we see that there is more to her when she appears in Episode 11 with her make-up (looking like an actual person) visiting her sisters and in Episode 12 as a young girl that Yuzu visits in the past. Okami’s past visit from Yuzu turns out to be what inspires her to go from answering New Years wishes to starting the very inn that Yuzu ends up being a part of. We’re even able to see the person who runs the inn as a full-fledged character who enjoys company and hospitality as much as Yuzu and her fellow employees.

But Konohana Kitan‘s depth isn’t only with the main group as the guests and spirits that come to visit the inn are also given deep, personal stories that are resolved beautifully through reflection and introspection. Episodes such as “Spring Journey” and “The Transient Guest” soar above and beyond as stories that are visually captivating and thought-provoking. They are only some examples, but they are indicative of how much love the series puts into the artwork, visuals, and storytelling. For a cozy anime that has the charm of a slice-of-life set in the hot springs and the captivating lore and feel of Natsume Yuujinchou, then I couldn’t think of a better way to cool off than with Konohana Kitan. I’m excited for what the future of this series holds, and would be happy to check out the manga.

End Card:

「どうしても叶えたいたったひとつの願いと割とそうでもない99の願い」 (Doushitemo Kanaetai Tatta Hitotsu no Negai to Wari to Sou demo Nai no Negai)
“The One Wish That Must Be Granted, and the Ninety-nine That Can Be Done Without “

The finale doesn’t make it a secret that Nezumi is supposed to be an underwhelming winner. Juuni Taisen thrived on the anticlimax of its fights, but the ultimate battle to the end is the internal war Nezumi faces as he mulls over the wishes he could have granted. Despite Duodecuple being one of the few wish-masters in fiction that allows you to wish for more wishes, Nezumi shot down so many of his own wishes that it took him away from his comfort zone.

Nezumi’s wish being to have his memories of the tournament erased is icing on the cake for the show’s dedication to anticlimax, but it is in-line with his personality throughout the war. His attitude throughout the outcome where he won was exhausted and apathetic to everyone around him, but his unluckier routes had him stare death in the face with terror and shock. He would have a traumatic breakdown wanting to forget all of this happened knowing that he is almost as traumatized by conflict as Uuma was. It is disappointing in hindsight, but the writers put more thought into the outcome and ending of the tournament than the war itself.

What made this episode shine was how in-depth it went into what Nezumi was able to gather from the experiences his powers give him. It went into some of the funnier results of his abilities like how he got rejected by a girl he liked in every reality he could travel to, as well as the results of some of his pettier wishes like getting rid of his classmates or flipping a girl’s skirt.

However, the most fascinating experiences Nezumi gathered from his powers was his memories from other timelines about the other combatants wishes from when he aligned with different people. It was interesting to get insight about the warriors selected for the war, and how normal most of their wishes were. Each revealed the true nature of the warriors such as Uuma’s insecurities causing him to want to seek out talent, the Twins lying about really wanting money over anything else, and Tora wanting to use her wish to be with Ushii. Some were out for self-interest such as Tsujii yearning for eternal youth now that he’s started to appreciate life, Inou’s hilarious wish for a harem of 3.5 billion men, and Usagi’s ominous wish to “be friends with everyone in the world“. Some hoped to use wishes to find inner peace such as Dotsuku wanting to take care of his adoptive daughter or Niwatori hoping for confidence in her own decisions, enough so for Nezumi to ask if she should instead wish for life away from being a warrior. We even understand from Nezumi’s initial ideas what his mindset is in that he regrets not having seen Misaki’s wishes for peace through, and contemplates bringing her back or using her wishes. What this episode does with flying colors is give depth to the warriors of the tournament, and offers some insight on who Nezumi is as a person.

Final Impressions:

Juuni Taisen most valuable asset is avoiding a main problem that aligns with most death game anime; the end game. For example, Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope’s Peak High School. As someone who enjoyed the series, every episode was a nail-biter, especially when the present day death game was paired up with the DR2 cast’s origin story. However, when you see the big twist around Episode 12, the entire show unravels and becomes a lot more disappointing in hindsight. Or Mirai Nikki’s transformation into wonky science-fiction territory by the time you get near the end point. So much investment is put into the build-up and twists in the middle that by the end of these kinds of shows, the ending is always forced, hackneyed, or sloppy.

Sometimes that’s the intention, like how the anticlimax of Fate/Zero’s ending is to evoke how much nastier this Holy Grail War is compared to the one that Shiro eventually takes part in for Stay Night, and how Shiro would come to prevent something like this from happening again. Nonetheless, Fate/Zero is probably one of the couple tournament stories where they have every right to focus more on the fights than the end game because that particular Holy Grail War was meant to be violent and relatively pointless in the long run. For other stories with similar premises, it plays off more like the writer didn’t put much thought into a proper ending.

With Juuni Taisen, it avoids this problem outright by placing Nezumi’s unexplained powers at the end of the finish line as a valuable pay-off for investing in the story. Throughout the show, they play with your expectations by scattering random kernels around to second-guess what you thought the outcome would be. Questions like “Will Nezumi use his powers now?”, “How is this person going to die?”, and “Is Nezumi not going to be the only person to make it out?” run wild.

Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, especially because the show still places its stakes much higher. As they give you the character’s extended backstory, it ties you closer to the characters, and makes it all the more painful when it’s their time to go. NisioIsin also helps to flesh out the lore of the world through the cast’s relationship with the world around them. Each of the competitors are shaped and molded by warfare, and all have their own experiences and ethos decided based on whether they were mediators, soldiers, generals, opportunists, or puppetmasters on the battlefield. In the process, it also made many of the competitors such as Misaki, Tora, and Ushii sympathetic and meaningful characters. Nezumi’s powers themselves open up another can of worms about the possibility of seeing timelines where we learn more about the cast based on how they interact with him. For instance, learning that Usagi would’ve been great friends with Nezumi adds more to his character as well as the idea that Usagi, Ushii, and Tora had won the tournament in other timelines, giving us the chance to imagine how differently thing could’ve gone with those three as the winners. The finale does this wonderfully by outlining how different the wishes of the combatants are compared to their outward appearances.

A big elephant in the room that throws a wrench in all of this is having the knowledge of exactly the outcome of the tournament. While it does conceptualize the idea of reprogramming the question of “Who will die” into “How will they die?” it also renders showing us the entire tournament meaningless. If you’re under the mentality of the journey being more worthwhile than the destination, this is not the show for you because the OP sequence and death order make it glaringly obvious what the outcome will be and why the rest of the characters are able to recognize Nezumi. People were predicting this very early on, and kept bringing it up as the episodes went on, but even though it makes the last episodes enthralling, there is no tension when everything is spelled out that soon.

Juuni Taisen was at its most clever around the beginning and end, but by the mid-point, it became obvious that they were relying wholly on Nezumi’s powers being explained as the end goal. There were still some great shocking moments around the early points where it wasn’t as obvious such as when Niwatori got her powers boosted by Dotsuku, or the stretch of time around Misaki’s origin story where no one died, but by the time Uuma got trapped in the burning building, it became apparent that there was not going to be a change in the formula, and we were still in for a padded out tournament to wade through to get to Nezumi’s big moment.

But despite the outcome being made inconsequential by the time you catch on to the pattern, there is still a lot of value in Juuni Taisen. As bloodthirsty as the cast is, they are made to be much more likable with the backstory they are given in this adaptation. As much complaining as there can be about the value on the mid-section of the tournament, it was nice to learn about what makes them tick, and gives them much more meaning than other tournament shows that couldn’t care less about who lives or dies other than the main characters. Making almost everyone the story’s protagonist at one point in time would’ve been effective at keeping viewers on their toes about whether they’ll make it out in one way or another. It was also cool to find out about Nezumi’s powers considering that it does toy around with our curiosity in how the tournament could’ve wound up in scenarios where Nezumi lost. There is a ton of potential with the series, and the sequel novel could contribute to fleshing out the universe and characters for future stories. It could possibly give us a chance to see how other timelines could’ve turned out, or create a Steins;Gate-esque work where we see how Nezumi’s power plays out in the 99 other scenarios he’s been through before he gets to the one where he wins. Although it could’ve been compelling if the anime didn’t constantly remind us of how the kill order aligned with the zodiac order, it doesn’t undercut how wonderful the cast and lore of Juuni Taisen ended up being.

「忍（しのび）の覚悟」 (Shinobu (shinobi) no kakugo)
“A Shinobi’s Resolve”

Boruto’s Weakness

I think the series has also finally outlined one of Boruto’s greatest weaknesses, which could potentially explain why he chose to behave a certain way during the future Chūnin Exams. He decisively lacks the spirit and willpower exhibited by Naruto at a similar age, and is prone to being mentally chipped down to a breaking point. Although Kakashi was extremely ruthless in asking a 10 year old kid to break his own arm as a test of resolve, the extent to which it bothered Boruto highlights how much of his strength comes from bearing the burden of other people’s expectations. When he feels like he’s letting them down, it tends to culminate in mental capitulation.

Conversely, it means his friends can fire him up from an emotional low, allowing him to lead them through adversity. Iwabe reinvigorates Boruto’s fighting spirit, and what he says contains a lot of truth: many people wouldn’t have gotten that far without Boruto’s encouragement. In that regard, though his self-doubt is a double edged sword, it is born from caring about his comrades, which also compels the dedication and loyalty of those that Boruto inspires. To that end, perhaps it could be said that current Boruto and his movie counterpart do not contradict each other, as we may have previously speculated.

Raid Boss Kakashi

Asides from stirring up nostalgia, there isn’t much going for this episode that should elevate it beyond other ones. While it may have done a few things differently, the stakes weren’t high compared to other times, but it felt like there was a special distinguishing factor. After some deliberation, I concluded that Kakashi was probably the first ‘antagonist’ I could take seriously. For the purposes of this arc, he definitely fulfils that role. Those who are familiar with the original series would know what exactly this man is capable of, and he can talk smack all he likes, because he has the record to back it up.

And boy did he take on the kids as they came by the numbers. From throwing out Purple Lightning not once, but twice, then clapping everybody in taijutsu, he certainly doesn’t know how to hold back. Then he gets blindsided by a multi-person sealing jutsu, which gives him more trouble than expected. If he never pushed the kids this far, we would never have had the chance to see something so awesome, so credit must be given to Kakashi’s ruthlessness. But he stirred the hornet’s nest, so he must accept the consequences that it brings.

Nakama Power

Whaddya know, these kids weren’t just a bunch of nobodies, who were being dragged across the finish line by their stronger classmates. We always knew that descendants of the previous generation were going to have the added benefit of genetics, as well as skills being passed down through training. That much is evident, when Mitsuki defeats Shino in single combat, while Boruto can keep up with the adults in terms of taijutsu sparring, etc. However, the rest of the class got to show their value in some way.

They even banded together to take down jounin level teachers, and successfully locked down Kakashi. If you told me a week ago that a bunch of 10 year old could prevent the 6th Hokage from moving, I probably would have scoffed in your face. And it wasn’t really an asspull either, because it’s been hinted at the whole time, how Denki had been working on a unique and original sealing jutsu. To see it implemented on a larger-scale and against Kakashi of all people really took the cake. Even after getting hit by a wave of Purple Lightning, these kids continued to stand their ground, determined to become shinobi. And a notion is reinforced, where a united front allows them to overcome the limitations of individual weakness.

For me, the standout moment came from the transformation jutsu into a sharingan genjutsu. That was a really nasty combination from Boruto and Sarada. If they were to be a part of the same team, as the previews might suggest, I would be crazy excited to see what else they can cook up over the next few years.

Preview

Concluding Thoughts

First things first, that graduation exam was god damn incredible! Plus I was stoked to see these kids earn a well-deserved pass, because they fought tooth and nail for it. Like Kakashi hinted, I think most of us knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that these kids could have obtained the bell. However, they sure as heck gave him a run for his money, and I’m curious as to what step he might have taken next, if the time hadn’t run out at such a convenient point.

Despite knowing the specifics of the bell test, I couldn’t help but wonder if Kakashi had touched up the requirements in some way, that would somehow make passing more difficult. Thankfully the value of teamwork remains the same as ever, and it’s great to see that Obito’s mantra has obviously had a powerful effect on Kakashi, even to this day. Doesn’t that make it 30 odd years since the time where they rescued Rin? The years sure do fly by fast.

That said, for every light side, darkness must also exist. And it is here that I want to raise the suffering Kakashi went through. Of course, he lost his dearest and closest friends, realising far too late just how much they meant to him. But in the Shippuden head canon, these occurrences even earned him the title of ‘Friend-Killer’. People genuinely believed that he had let Obito die, in order for the mission to succeed, and killed Rin to prevent the leakage of crucial information.

For a man crushed by loneliness and regret, that must have hurt so badly, and I’m not surprised that Kakashi ended up suffering from PTSD and depression. You may see me frequently showing disdain for the various fillers that Naruto Shippuden pulled out during its run, but I’m honestly grateful for the gaiden arcs, that truly fleshed out some of our beloved characters. If Boruto were to receive these kinds of fillers, I would more than happily welcome them, provided that they serve a greater purpose.

Looking ahead, it’s obvious that three person squads are just past the horizon. Before we say our farewells to the academy days, I’d just like to say that Boruto: Naruto Next Generations has exceeded by expectations so far. To be honest, I was morbidly curious to see how it would continue to milk the cash cow of an older franchise, and expected a desecration of Naruto’s enduring legacy. Not only has it avoided this pitfall – it has even managed to become its own wonderful thing, setting itself apart from Naruto in many respects. As such, I hope a precedent has been set regarding what the future holds, because it is definitely looking to be a promising one.

It has been my pleasure blogging this show, and it will be my pleasure to continue blogging this show for the foreseeable future. Thank you very much for sticking with me up till now, and I hope you (the reader) will stay with me until the very end!

「新しい旅に出るわ」 (Atarashii tabi ni deruwa)
“I’m Setting Off On A New Journey”

Pathway to the Afterlife

With the tide of battle ebbing away, the remains of a costly battle become rather evident. And it really touches me how so much compassion and deliberation goes into remembering the dead. Even while grieving for their friends, the Falainians gave time to commemorate lives lost by the very enemy that swore to destroy them. As they went about sending off caskets, I wondered if their prayers to guide lost souls would extend to comrades who fell on Skylos, forever sunken beneath the treacherous waves of sand.

Encounter with the Unknown

Following the conflict, I like how they set up a meeting between the Mud Whale and another civilisation. In my opinion, this interaction was long overdue, and brought a new perspective to the table. Although the Nous appeared to have been widespread throughout the world, countries exist that choose to rely on advancements in technology, as opposed to making sacrifices for the supernatural gifts that Thymia might bring. If anything, it seems that Thymia allows for a gap to be bridged, where a significant difference in strength would otherwise have existed – as seen when the foreign delegate was easily prevented from attempting to annex the Mud Whale. After Suou opted for a pacifist approach, the situation looks to have stabilised, and a distinct possibility even arises where alliances are concerned. But with ulterior motives remaining unexplored, pertaining to foreign expansionist policies, it’s hard to determine whether such an agreement would be sincere.

Concluding Thoughts

So it seems like Falaina was lacking an essential component required on any sea-worthy ship: a rudder. And as of now, there doesn’t seem to be any particular drawback either in regards to its functionality. My suspicions of the Kokalo being a sinister object were misplaced, and my doubts especially crumbled when it took on the form of an adorable creature, though it’s always possible that adverse effects may start showing up much later. Having finally received a means of navigating itself, we can perhaps expect a new turn in the Mud Whale’s mysterious journey through the world, which might not be as aimless as it initially seemed. Will the Kokalo be a catalyst for salvation, or the beginning of a descent into further damnation? With so few episodes remaining, it’s difficult to say whether such a question will ever be answered.

「夢の話だ」 (Yume no Hanashi da)
“It’s Just A Dream”

 The Trial

Franz Kafka might have been proud of the way in which the trial turned out. For starters, it was utterly absurd, to the point where it accurately rendered a stark depiction of the Empire’s dystopian society. Though its frivolous procession lacked self-awareness regarding its own nature, a necessary criteria for achieving the post-modernist form, it was bloody entertaining if not somewhat contradictory. Isn’t it ironic to watch seemingly emotionless people becoming swayed by Orka’s theatrical rhetoric? Of particular note was how he manipulated Araphne into shooting at him within the court room, before telling a cautionary tale of ‘daemons‘ to strike fear within the judiciary panel deciding his fate. By correctly playing all the cards, he saves his own life, as well as most of his own subordinates, while essentially keeping the title of Commander-in-Chief. To that end, I can only say that his feats demonstrate a remarkable competence rarely seen. With only one episode left and another issue taking up the forefront, I get the impression that this will be last time that we see the Empire in this series. A shame too, because Orka possesses the makings of an impressive villain, something that Kujira has sorely lacked for the duration of its run.

Origins of the Nous

I want to highlight the Greek etymology surrounding ‘The Rain of Katharterio‘, which literally translates to ‘Purgatorial Rain‘. Speaking in literary terms, the Purgatorio from Dante’s Divine Comedy was a mountain, representing seven levels tied with the deadly sins, in addition to Paradise, which sat at the peak. Dante characterised suffering and spiritual growth through overcoming these obstacles in order to reach the top, seeking to discuss the nature of sin, as well as outlining moral issues inherent to politics and religion. These immediately become relevant, where a beautiful attribution of purgatory becomes corrupted in light of the Empire’s actions. Though Dante’s poem outlined a theory that all sins arise from love, the Empire takes it to the other extreme, by using the Nous to construct an allegedly sinless world entirely devoid of emotions. In an obsession driven by a want for emptiness, they go about slaughtering as they please, wielding a divine right as a justification for their wrongdoings. This surely can’t be what the Nous wants either, considering what Olivines conveyed to Lykos through a vision.

To that end, I feel like Falaina strikes a central ground – encouraging the constraint of excessive emotions, as opposed to enforcing a whole-scale deprivation. Despite the Marked suffering a comparatively shorter lifespan, Falaina’s simple way of life can unpack a myriad of deeper meaning, one that even visitors are impressed by. We see it in the unique culture they have established over the course of a century, where their special customs and wonderful traditions indicate a greater purpose to their existence beyond mere exile.

Concluding Thoughts

There is much to suggest that the removal of emotions is an unrefined process, and I have an analogy in mind that could cover up some potential plot holes. Just like how zombies might exhibit traits of being alive, moving about searching for humans, they are most certainly ‘dead’. That is how I’ve come to view the Apathoia, as people who retain a bare semblance of emotions, that are for the most part inhibited. The extent of absent emotions probably has something to do with the frequency of visits made to a Nous, as Lykos has slowly gained the capacity to express her feelings, due to time spent away the Nous’ influence. This would help justify why citizens of the Empire are not entirely emotionless, and I feel like perhaps the term has been taken too literally by a good number of viewers, myself included.

We also learn that Failaina has alternate methods of generating power, but I won’t go into too much detail about how it consumes lifespans, because that actually should have been quite obvious. However, the social revolution this revelation may have instigated is a topic that’s definitely worth delving into. Though I’m quite peeved that they chose to introduce the concept so late into the series, and these hammy twins weren’t exactly subtle or eloquent, the prospects of an internal crisis mark an intriguing dilemma that has yet to be seen in Falaina’s 93 year history. There is a youthful naïvety, that remains woefully ignorant of the sacrifice and bloodshed required to bring about a tumultuous insurrection. But conversely, revolutions are also some of the most interesting segments of history, especially in a more contemporary era. It will present the greatest challenge Chakura has ever faced, because a civil war is afoot, which would likely end in a genocide of the Marked. No doubt he feels betrayed by the upper echelons of the Unmarked, who kept such a heavy secret from everybody else. That said, I expect Chakuro to rise above the trepidation of his doubts, in order to choose what is right.

Preview

「彼方へと」 (Kanate E To)
“To The Other Side”

Even though I was really hoping that my favorite duo would make it to the end, I have to give it to the show for giving them such an amazing farewell.

General Impressions

Boy, even though there was some crazy stuff going on toward the latter half of the episode, there’s no way I can’t talk about Mordred and Shishigou’s final fight together. Starting with the most obvious — boy was that a pretty fight. Even though it may not have been as stylized as some of last week’s crazy fights, the animation through and through felt crisp and clean as we saw Mordred clash with Semiramis. And while I would normally complain about the completely blown out sound effects that make my eardrum feel like it’s ripping itself apart, I can give it a pass for just how great the fight itself was. Moving on from the animation, I thought the fight itself was just plain fun. Looking back at all of Mordred’s previous opponents, there really hasn’t been one that’s given her too much trouble. Sure, Frankenstein may have given her a good run for her money, but besides that and a good kick from Chiron way back when, I think it’s pretty safe to say that Mordred had the upperhand in most of her fights. That is, until this week, where we got to see her back against the wall with Semiramis unleashing an effective strategy against the berserkish Mordred. Toss in the fact that Mordred and Shishigou teamed up together to take down the Queen of Babylon and you had one of the best fights of the show.

And as if an epic battle wasn’t enough, we were treated to a sweet scene between Shishigou and Mordred during their last moments together. As fan favorites, it was awfully bittersweet watching the two share a smoke together as they revealed they realized just what it is that they wanted. With Shishigou admitting that he just wanted to bring his daughter back and Mordred realizing that she didn’t necessarily want to become king, it really felt like that our two characters had finally reached a point where, even though they were satisfied with how far they got, they could have achieved their goals had they just managed to hold on just a little bit longer.

Shifting gears to Jeanne’s situation, I can’t help but feel bad for her. When she was alive, she gave up everything in order to become a Saint and in return for her work she ended up being burned at the stake. As a Heroic Spirit and Ruler for this Greater Holy Grail War, she’s been thrown around like a rag doll with little to no concern for her well being. With that in mind, it’s not too difficult to see why if she did end up falling for someone, she’d fall hard. Which is probably why, even though I haven’t managed to empathize for this girl at all throughout the series, I felt pretty terrible as I saw her lose her mind when she started to believe that she was the reason why Sieg was going to die.

P.S. I could go on and on about how Shishigou saw Mordred as a stand in for his daughter and that Mordred viewed Shishigou as a parental figure, but I can already feel the tears building and I’m not about to start crying on a plane flight.

「ボールルームへようこそ」 (Ballroom e Youkoso)
“Welcome to the Ballroom”

Think back on this for a second: how many anime end with their finest episode? I would have to imagine it’s a pretty small number, because there aren’t a hell of a lot of examples popping into my head. But it’s awfully nice when it does happen, and for my money it absolutely did with Ballroom e Youkoso. I could hardly have imagined a more satisfying way to bring this series to a conclusion (apart from one niggle which is down to personal taste, which I’ll discuss in a bit). And that’s all the more remarkable when you consider that the anime actually moved ahead of the manga with this final episode.

Series review posts are always a bit of a puzzle to write, because you have to balance your views of the finale with your views on the series as a whole. In the case of Welcome to the Ballroom I find the two to be rather conflated, and I find myself wanting to talk about the overall picture first – but I don’t think that’s right. And it’s not as though there wasn’t plenty to talk about with this episode, which worked both as a deft conclusion to the linear plot and as a kind of “closing argument” for why Ballroom matters as a story.

One thing that’s fair to say in my case is that the rivalry between Tatara-kun and Kugimiya-san greatly improved the series with its development – even with its relative late entry into the narrative, their relationship may just have been the most interesting one in the show. They’re such fascinating opposites, these two, that it’s hard not to be fascinated watching them interact both on the dance floor and off. The tall, elegant man and the mere slip of a boy – the traditionalist and the revolutionary, the glower and the goofy smile. As people and as dancers, they represent two very different poles.

The most interesting way these two differ, though, is in their basic personality – and as such, their reason for being on the dance floor. This was something the final episode did brilliantly as part of that closing argument – show us why Tatara dances. I believe, on some level, everyone wants – and deserves – to be able to shout “Look at me!” to the world. Even shy people (and I believe Tatara is a shy person) long to be the center of attention sometimes, especially for something they’re good at. This, for me, is the visceral draw of competitive dance – it’s a sport, performance art and an explosion of personal expression all rolled into one. For Tatara, it’s what allowed him to finally become a full person – something everyone will discover in adolescence if they’re very lucky.

Kugimiya, by contrast, is always asking himself the question “Why do I dance?” He talks of having Hell on his shoulders, of how he’s come to hate dance and truly viewed his life-threatening injuries as a lucky break, a chance to escape. This is a complicated, fascinating man, and his relationship with Idogawa-san likewise fascinating. There’s the sense (and this is a general frustration I have with Ballroom) that we’ve barely scratched the surface with this character. And truth be told, that’s even more true in the manga – which is why it’s so frustrating (there’s that word again) that Kugimiya’s cousins only appeared in the ED sequence after being totally cut from the final arc for no obvious reason (apart from wasting more screen time on Akira). They humanized his character in a very important way, and it’s a shame the anime staff decided to play down Kugimiya’s personal story somewhat.

Truth be told, I would have been happy to see either the Kugimiya-Idogawa or Tata-Natsu pairs win – though that niggle for me is that, on balance, I thought both contextually and narratively it really should have been Kugimiya. Either way, though, it was in contrasting these two pairs that Ballroom e Youkoso was able to most successfully deconstruct the nature of competitive dance for the audience. Although one of the pressmen tormenting Gaju-kun noted the similarity to figure skating (which I acknowledge) I think there’s an important difference – even after the phasing out of the 6.0 system, the ISU system in skating does separate out Total Element Score and Program Components Score (in the old days, technical merit and artistic impression). In dance it’s just one judge, one vote – it does indeed all come down to taste. And I truly believe that worked to the kids’ advantage here.

For me, Tatara had already won before the judges’ verdict was ever read, because he’d discovered both his own reason to dance and his way forward with Chinatsu. Again, it’s frustrating because it feels as if we’ve just scratched the surface with his character too – how did his apparent abandonment by his mother drive his need to stand out and be acknowledged? Why is he so reluctant to involve his father in this part of his life, when by all appearances they seem to be quite close? What is clear is that dance allows Tatara to do what he always wished for himself – to be a bigger presence in the world. Sengoku’s obsessive attention to posture way back in the beginning was clearly very important in a symbolic sense.

I have sensed some frustration with the anime version of Welcome to the Ballroom from manga readers (I’ve really only read bits and pieces of it, and apart from the first few chapters read it after them after the corresponding events in the anime) – part of it with the relative lack of extended animated dance sequences. On the whole, though, the anime seems to have been quite well-received – though not by the disc-buying audience, sadly. And I think it mostly succeeded with what it set out to do – tell one boy’s story of how dance changed his life, and what it is about these strange and puzzling sport that some people find so compelling.

For me too Ballroom e Youkoso was largely a success – though as is so often the case with adaptations of ongoing manga, there’s a sense that the anime is ending just when the real story is getting started. With the mangaka Takeuchi-sensei’s continuing health problems it’s going to be some while before the story progresses much even in the manga, and even if we were to get another season (which seems very unlikely) it would be a long ways down the road. That’s the ongoing frustration of the anime fan, but I have no regrets – I’m glad I spent time getting to know these characters and fascinating sport they devote their lives to.

Epilogue:

ED3 Sequence

ED3: 「」 () by ()
Watch the 3rd ED!: Streaming ▼

「主人公にさえなればいい.」 (Shujinkou ni sae Nareba Ii.)
“Becoming the Protagonist Is All You Need.”

We’ve got another bombshell this week! This time, Itsuki fesses up that he actually does like Nayu. His reasoning for not committing to officially going out does align with his personality as he would rather be considered a “protagonist” in his own story than a side character in Nayu’s. Itsuki’s logic behind holding off on asking her out is indicative of his character in that he is willing to suppress his own feelings both for Nayu’s sake as a young novelist and for his own self-centered desire to have the world’s gravitational pull go his way. Whether the announcement of Itsuki’s LN getting an anime pushes him to open up to Nayu or causes him to move the goal post further for her will be something to look forward for the finale.

The last scene in particular is a good indicator in how tragically flawed the men of the show are; whereas Itsuki puts his love on-hold for a chance to be as successful, if not more so, than Nayu, Haruto is actively getting testier and pushier about getting the two together. Most likely, he was unable to shake off the negative feelings he’s had since Miyako similarly wanted to push Itsuki and Nayu together to rip off the band-aid of unrequited love. His own perspective wasn’t prominent in the episode, but I’d imagine that later on, Haruto will continue to let his feelings about the Itsuki/Nayu pair and Miyako fester overtime until it causes him to be far more aggressive towards Itsuki.

While the confession was the largest development in this episode, Nayu was the MVP of Episode 11. After finishing her last LN thanks to Miyako’s thighs, she provides the funniest twists in the next tabletop game they played. Seeing her come up with Itsuki growing a large enough member for him to eventually use as a weapon for him to fight against Titans with was outright hilarious. Nayu’s writers block also gave us some time with her cute editor who is comparative to Itsuki’s editor as having to come at odds with an infuriating writer. However, Nayu’s editor has a flip side to her as she perks Miyako up by saying how being her editor gives her the honor of being the first person to read Nayu’s books. Nayu also overheard Itsuki’s confession, so the aftereffects will definitely be felt by the time the finale rears its head.

End Card

「Lovers ever run before the clock.」

Every so often we get one of these anime episode that’s so sublime, so perfect, that it frustrates me as a writer. Because really, what could I possibly do in scribbling a few paragraphs about something so lovely except cheapen the experience? Not only that, if I straight-out say what I thought, it sounds like I’m gushing over it – because in effect, I am. It’s a lose-lose situation, but what can you do? I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a problem I wish I had to deal with more often.

I knew when I saw those few minutes of footage of Mahoutsukai no Yome way back in July of 2016 (at Anime Expo) that there was potential for some visual magic here. But at this point I’m starting to consider that this show might be the most beautifully drawn and animated TV anime since Hyouka – indeed, I’d put it in that tiny sub-category which holds that series, Seirei no Moribito and frankly, not a whole lot else. It’s not simply about detailed backgrounds and fluid animation – though those obviously help. It’s also about artistry and imagination, a sense of the soul of the animators and artists coming through. Moribito had that, Hyouka had it – and so does The Ancient Magus’ Bride.

In a vacuum, that kind of visual beauty can take you only so far – pretty far, but only so far. But in episodes like this one (and I’d argue most profoundly in this one) Mahoutsukai shows that it has the narrative beauty to go along with it. It can be awkward at times, but this series has a magical quality of transporting you inside the moment, and of making you feel what the characters feel on a visceral level. There’s a pull that the ancient mysteries assert on humans – we all feel it, whether we want to admit it or not. We remember, deep down, the music of wind and water and earth, before there were words. And part of us always longs to return to that feeling of awe, that sense of elemental and inscrutable power that surrounds us at all times.

That’s part of the magic and beauty of this series, no question – that, and the ethereally gorgeous landscapes it transports us to through its incredibly gifted creative staff. But the human story is equally compelling, even if the ones at the heart of it aren’t all human. And as Lindel continues to tell Chise (and us) Elias’ story, it becomes increasingly clear that the Thorn Mage is not human himself. “A quick learner,” Lindel tells us, but “always seeming to be looking in from the outside.” Elias is the shadow the child with the sight (red-haired, it should be noted) sees on the wall in the candlelight. He’s the fury which unleashes itself on frightened villagers after they wound Lindel with a rock. Elias seems as alien to us as any of the faerie folk we’ve met on this journey.

There is a sense that Elias’ privacy is being invaded by having Lindel tell Chise his story – she certainly feels that herself. Even Lindel, powerful mage that he is, was afraid when Elias told him that he was certain he’d eaten humans before – though Lindel was composed enough not to show it. Lindel clearly feels that these are things Chise must hear – and that Elias may never be ready to share them himself – though it’s not, I think, by way of warning to her. In Lindel’s eyes both Elias and Chise are indeed children, and he’s trying to raise them as best he can – to shove them towards the truth when they’re foundering on their own.

After a short but wonderful episode where the pack of dragon bozu knock Chise into the water (again), and she meets what appears to be a water dragon (a scene so beautiful one imagines it must surely be the highlight of the episode) Chise sets about making her wand at last. Her red hair will be the essence of it, Nevin’s branch the heart of it, but now Chise must carve the handle – and Lindel shows her a variety of larges branches to choose from. Each of the source trees is powerful in some way, connected to the mysteries of the ancients. And Lindel advises Chise to talk to herself as she carves – something not so easy for a child with so little sense of self.

As magnificent as all that is, the climax of the episode truly raises the bar – as Lindel reveals the true nature of his magic and his true name, “Echos”. His spells are songs, and in the land blessed by elves they carry great power. I’d be hard-pressed to think of a more perfectly-executed scene in anime this year – “beautiful” doesn’t even begin to do it justice. But there’s a larger story being told here, as Lindel’s magic opens a gateway through a water mirror to where Elias gazes silently into the night through his window. Chise’s first thought when seeing this beauty was that she wished Elias could see it too, and in some small way, thanks to the power of Lindel’s magic and her own desire, he does.

Nothing is simple when it comes to Chise and (especially) Elias, that’s for certain – even in the midst of almost unbearable beauty the body of a sparrow reminds us of that. But when Elias tells Chise that his home feels cold without her, he reveals something of himself in the process. And Chise’s promise to share her own story now that she’s heard so much of Elias’ is a measure of the trust she has in him, in the face of so many warnings and of her own painful interactions with others. If magic is anything, it’s that these two damaged spirits could be connected across a great gulf of the soul and half the Earth.

Preview

「共ニ語リシ光輝[めいゆう]ノ裏切リ」 (Tomo ni Katarishi Meiyuu no Uragiri)
“Our Friend Kouki’s Second Betrayal”

Animegataris‘ meta game is too strong! It appears that being tonally all over the place was all part of the plan, and the universe’s gravitational pull towards becoming anime created a scenario where the characters not only start to manifest their origins within anime itself, but are aware of their existence within the show Animegataris. I lost it when the cast was outright saying that it needed to figure out what genre it wanted to be after all this time attempting to blur reality with fantasy. In many circumstances, outright admitting your show has issues and making a joke about it does nothing to fix these issues, especially when they’ve only recently established how reality can possibly start becoming dangerously close to anime. But this episode was much too fun for me to be completely nitpicky about the fourth wall breaking, and the show gets very playful with how it brings awareness to Animegataris as a part of their universe, from calling out the person responsible for the anime’s series composition to commenting on how explosions work within the universe depending on what tone they decide to go with at that point.

The meta humor was hilarious in this episode, but the funniest gags were in how the show toys with aspects of anime that are pivotal to story-telling and visual representation. Minoa starts to feel a huge lag within the time shifts as she comments that she keeps missing parts of class thanks to narrative jumps, or how jumps from afternoon to sunset are messing with her perception of reality. They also play around with some fun visual gags like how the aspect ratio of older anime causes Minoa to stumble into the black bars on the side of the screen, or the art-shifts from 60′s to 90′s anime for character designs. The fact that Kouki’s second betrayal is capped off with Minoa putting on Geordi La Forge glasses that have her see her “reality” as storyboards was a perfect way to cap off the end of the episode alongside Neko-senpai wanting to see Yui’s scene in the opening sequence again. I also never realized that I’ve wanted to see what a female version of Sebas would look like.

Kouki’s betrayal, meanwhile, tries to conceptualize all the humor of Minoa experiencing anime meshing with reality as relevant to the show’s plot. We finally see the bystander who received the magical beret as the mastermind of all of this anime craziness. It is a little underwhelming to see that he wasn’t that noticeable in the story, given that Kouki is a lot more interesting as a mysterious, prolific character who we find out is an anime character that escaped into the real world back when the Principal was in high school. It’s easy to get heavily invested in knowing who Kouki is when the reveals about him for these past two episodes have been mind-blowing, and with the next one highlighting Minoa’s descent into the madhouse Kouki had always dreamed of, I’m looking forward to seeing how Kouki could’ve made his way into the real world as an anime character.