This could be a bit weird question, but do you think that the story of Vampire Knight would have been better if it was acknowledged that Yuki and Kaname shouldn't be together? Both because they were raised as siblings and Kanames treatment of Yuki.
(This was not made with ChatGPT!) Okay, first of all, that is a great question. Thank you so much for asking (please send more hehe)! Let me preface this by saying, fiction is fiction, and I do not inherently have a problem with incest in fiction. I will be criticising it in the world, but I'm an adult with a fully functioning brain, and at the end of the day, incest is not the main problem I have with Yuki and Kaname. This is probably going to be a long one, so strap in!
(Yuki-critical, Hino-critical, Kaname-critical, Vampire Knight-critical)
Let's address the core problem first: Vampire Knight doesn’t know who Yuki is. Her main character traits are established as kindness and gentleness, but the story treats her as a symbol first and a person second.
Yuki is supposed to encapsulate peace, innocence and motivation for male characters. Still, she is rarely allowed to be decisive, curious in dangerous ways, wrong in ways that cost her something or actively choosing between imperfect options. This makes her feel spineless—not because she lacks conviction, but because the narrative removes her agency while insisting she’s central. Okay, now that's established, let's move on to your question.
1. The Sibling Dynamic Is Real
Even before the incest reveal, the story codes Yuki and Kaname as family, as we see with Kaname raising Yuki from early childhood. He is her primary authority figure and, over the course of the story, controls her access to truth, danger, and autonomy (my main problem with them). Kaname decides what she remembers and what she doesn’t, and Kaname is the one to decide when Yuki remembers her past at the end of Volume 7.
Regardless of blood, that is a guardian–dependent relationship.
Romance layered on top of that is narratively destabilising unless the story addresses it, which Vampire Knight doesn’t—it asks us, the readers, to quietly accept the shift.
2. Kaname’s Treatment of Yuki Undermines the Romance
Kaname’s actions toward Yuki are consistently framed as love, but they function as control:
He withholds information “for her own good”
He makes irreversible decisions without her consent
He isolates her emotionally from others (especially Zero) and chooses who she may spend time with (Aidou) -> An example of that is how she is not allowed to leave the house without his permission
He positions himself as the only safe authority
Here we can harken back to the core problem with Yuki that I have addressed above: The problem as such isn’t that Kaname is morally complex—the problem is that the story never lets Yuki meaningfully question that complexity, leaving her spineless and without agency.
Kaname is framed as her tragic protector, but it undermines the romance between them because Yuki is never his equal.
3. The Story Confuses “Inevitable” with “Healthy”
One of the elements defining Yuki and Kaname's relationship is its innate bond because of their shared blood.
They were always connected
Their bond transcends time
Blood demands togetherness
Hino often frames the concept of inevitability as proof of correctness and love. Going even further, I raise the question:
If you remove their innate bond forged by blood: What remains?
When Yuki is awakened as a pureblood, we find out that Kaname knew all along, and in my opinion, that weakens their bond because—If you remove the foundation, what remains? What are Yuki's reasons to stay with Kaname? That is what I always been bothered by. Just because the author tells us doesn't mean it is a good explanation.
6. Why Their Innate Bond Matters Beyond Morality
Like I said, the incest is not about “should we ship this or not ship this because incest is wrong in the real world.” I'm talking specifically about Vampire Knight as a story, and what matters in a story is coherence.
As we know, Kaname manufactured most of Yuki's life out of what he perceived as a necessity to keep her safe.
If you look at it closely, the narrative insists that Kaname and Yuki's romance is pure and destined, while Kaname's actions define their relationship with orchestration, seen by childhood guardianship, manipulation and control.
Kaname forges their relationship, never Yuki, and regardless of his reasons, this clashes with what we are told to believe, making the concept narratively weak and unsteady.
7. The Big Problem: Yuki Functions as Kaname’s Moral Buffer
Kaname’s actions are consistently framed as:
Yuki’s narrative function becomes:
The one who understands his burden
The one who forgives without demanding justice
The one who reframes violence as tragic sacrifice
Innate bond justifies Kaname's actions
As a result, every revelation about Kaname (including the Kiryu massacre) is filtered through Yuki’s emotional response, which causes:
Harm to be reframed as inevitability
Choice to be reframed as necessity
Accountability to be reframed as cruelty
Because Yuki responds with empathy instead of interrogation:
Kaname’s decisions are never treated as moral failures
His agency is obscured by mythologized devotion
The story denies Yuki the narrative space to question why violence was chosen when alternatives may have existed
This is not neutrality; it's structural insulation.
By positioning Yuki as the emotional justification for Kaname’s actions, the story ensures that his atrocities are absorbed into the logic of protection rather than confronted as choices for which he must answer.
This makes Yuki's morals look weak and spineless and clash with what we are narratively led to believe are her character traits: gentle and kind. Instead, she looks cruel and unjust.
8. Zero As The Voice Of Accountability
Zero’s role should have been to reframe Kaname’s actions not as fate, but as choice by consistently pointing out that:
Protection still involves decisions
Necessity is something people claim, not something that exists on its own
Love does not erase accountability and responsibility
Instead of attacking Kaname, Zero challenges the framework Yuki uses to excuse him by asking questions she has never been allowed to ask, such as:
Who benefited from this decision?
Is your moral compass alright with this?
By grounding these questions in his own lived experience, Zero exposes the pattern:
Kaname decides -> Others suffer
Yuki is asked to understand rather than judge
This forces Yuki to recognise that her empathy has been structurally weaponised—that her compassion is being used to absorb the moral cost of actions she did not choose and cannot question.
Where Kaname frames inevitability as love, Zero reframes it as power.
By doing so, Zero doesn’t tell Yuki what to think—he gives her language for the unease she already feels, allowing her to see that refusing accountability is not kindness, but silence enforced by gratitude.
9. Zero as the Voice of Contingency (Instead of Fate)
As established, Kaname is supposed to represent inevitability -> “I belong to Kaname”. The story frames this as romance and devotion.
Zero should have represented the opposite: Contingency. The idea that not only does choice matter, but that Yuki's choice matters.
Zero’s entire existence in Yuki's life is defined as something that shouldn’t have happened. Yes, he was manufactured to be her protector, and by making him fall in love with her, that protection was guaranteed, but Yuki was never supposed to be this attached to him.
Their connection is not destiny.
That positions him perfectly to challenge Kaname’s worldview—not by argument, but by presence.
How Zero Should Have Challenged Yuki
Instead of being just the “not related to me” option, Zero should have forced Yuki to confront this question:
If Yuki and Kaname's love is inevitable, why does it require him to erase your choice and agency?
Zero doesn’t promise eternity, as their lifespans vastly differ. He doesn’t promise safety, as he is not as strong as a pureblood like Kaname.
“You’re allowed to say no—even if everything else says yes. You are allowed a choice.”
Zero lets Yuki choose, lets her leave the academy with Kaname. He doesn't fight, he doesn't beg her to stay. He challenges her (“What am I to you?”) in her way of thinking, but he never removes her agency or tells her what to think. If Zero fought for Yuki the way Kaname does, he would become the same kind of force—another gravity well pulling her toward him regardless of her will. Zero doesn’t beg Yuki because he would rather lose her than become another person who decides her life for her.
Zero doesn’t fight for Yuki because he respects her autonomy.
Yuki struggles to choose because no one has ever taught her that autonomy matters.
This is often interpreted as a lack of interest or passion, but that’s not a lack of passion.
It’s a refusal to replicate harm.
In a story obsessed with control, Zero is the only character who consistently chooses not to exercise it.
The Key Dynamic That Was Missing
There should have been a moment where Zero explicitly (or implicitly) tells Yuki she can choose.
Kaname’s devotion becomes conditional on inevitability
Zero’s love becomes conditional on consent
Yuki is no longer choosing between men. She’s choosing between worldviews.
Why This Strengthens Yuki’s Character
Yuki questioning inevitability does three things:
Restores her agency
She isn’t pulled by destiny; she pushes back against it.
Makes her kindness active
Choosing Zero becomes a moral stance, not an emotional reflex.
Exposes Kaname’s flaw without vilifying him
He believes love justifies control. Yuki realises love requires accountability and choice.
Innate bond doesn't justify injustice
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