All That Is Mononoke

Mononoke Enthusiast!

[mononokethinker]

Introduction

Hello!

I started this blog as a medium to share my own thoughts, theories, and dissections about the 'Mononoke' series, as well as learn and collect likewise from others in this niche, though loyal community here on Tumblr.

Please feel free to discuss my posts or start a conversation on the matter!

I look forward to researching and reading all that has already been written here.

Masterlist

[mononokethinker]

Noppera Bou

EP 6-7

Observations:

- The Japanese proverb Kusuriuri stumbles on when talking to Ocho in the cell is, "Iwashi no atama mo shinjin kara." Or: "Even a sardine's head becomes holy if one worships it."

(Makes a thinker wonder if he really does sell placebos? 😭 He's more of a peddler, if anything. 👀)

Moreover, the article I sourced this from attributes two meanings to the phrase:

1. '...the more a person believes in a god, the holier the god becomes in the person's mind.'

2. '...a satirical remark on human nature, ridiculing the tendency to seek something to rely on.'

And, more generally: anything is possible, or valuable, with belief.

Kusuriuri says, "Whether you cook it in miso or broil it with salt, a sardine is a sardine." The context of which this is pertaining to, however, isn't ridiculing reliance, but the Medicine Seller summarizing the bottom-line of Ocho's situation — that she's 'jailed' for familicide, method irrelevant. Evidence, too. People believe she's the killer, but that's not the entire truth, is it? Ultimately, Kusuriuri is waaaay too aware to mix up that proverb earnestly.

Or—in other words—Ocho may be believed to have gruesomely killed her in-laws, but this is not the case.

On the flip-side, though, the Medicine Seller then tells Ocho that, "If you think you're trapped, this place becomes a prison." If she stays it can be a castle.

(A sardine is still a sardine, but a jail cell can be a castle? Obviously this is deliberate, but still. Interesting, Kusuriuri.)

Imagination and belief, as concept and evidence, is further cemented here: "Providence of the illusory world is on my side!" said by the Noppera Bou. We're able to glimpse a bit into this masked figure. He is her companion and confidant, her comfort through the bars — but, frankly, complacency should have no room here.

The Noppera Bou may seem like he's handing Ocho a definitive solution to her abuse along with the nakiri knife, but in reality it's only a temporary fix to the "venom" within her heart. He practically confessed this himself. Her crime is an illusory one: the fantasy of the caged and oppressed. See: Ocho's freedom is measured by the dimensions of a square, vertically-slatted window. When she looks through it, Ocho sees the framed scene of her in-laws massacred and hung from the boughs of a plum tree.

So—the Noppera Bou comes along and puts the gun in Ocho's hand. Yes. But it's not the family that she kills.

In fact, Ocho's real crime is suppressing her own feelings and desires. Sound familiar?

Her dissociation — brought on as a coping mechanism to endure the domestic abuse — was just a stopgap. Everyone knows the temptation of a fantasy. We also know that it can be a slippery slope into inaction, delusion, and confinement. Our mind grows fat on the fast-food of dreams; but where is the substance? Instead of nourishment we become content with stagnation. The listlessness. That meaningless rush of dopamine.

(Am I making mountains out of molehills? A little. But I think it's fun to constantly make the connection of art imitating life. Life, art. After all, Mononoke has always been, at its core, about the essence of human struggle. How beautiful is it that we can look at a work so near to our own, very real suffering and, in turn, be consoled? Heard? We may not be in exact parallel to the characters' situations, but we can still understand where they come from — and from that, where we do, too.)

Although in this case, Ocho's dissociation wasn't the cause of her resignation, but a tactic to bear. It helped her endure. Besides. As a child Ocho didn't have much of a choice but to 'take it'.

And, once more, the Noppera Bou is there to spirit her out of (jail) a tricky situation: which is, ironically, the idea of escape. Whereas the Faceless constitutes the part of Ocho that craves escapism over reality, Kusuriuri is the sober voice that coaxes Ocho to reflection. His words have a subtle impact on her, which is delivered when she returns with the Noppera Bou to her in-laws' house, yet confesses her reluctance to stay.

But change isn't that easy.

She falls for the illusion the Noppera Bou constructs for her—a turnaround reflecting her current situation: a loving husband, with an extended family who praises Ocho. It's wonderful. It's a bit like relapse.

The Medicine Seller reappears, though. He's passively mocking when he applauds Ocho. In his words: "It was fake." (Notice the plum trees sticking out from above?) Ocho becomes demoralized by the Noppera Bou's deception.

If it really is his own, that is.

Ocho played the part so well she forgot it was her hand that wrote it.

Furthermore, the Mask gets antsy when Ocho begins to recall her past. If we take the Mononoke as a manifestation of her suppressed emotions, and a shield from the pain, then it's very obvious why. Memories conjure pain. Her defenses crumble. Hence the house was made "inescapable" by the Mononoke, as it actively worked to hold Ocho within that false sense of security—which facing reality and fighting for change would have shattered.

Taking it a step further, however, would bring us to the fact that it was Ocho who did this to herself, the offending Mononoke. While Ocho was groomed by her Mother to accept the fate she'd handpicked for her, it's clear she would have rather resigned herself to being unhappy and unheard for the rest of her life, than trying.

Evidently, Ocho had chained herself to that house out of loyalty to her Mother also.

But then Ocho is forced to face the facts: her Mother never cared about what she wanted; Ocho had subdued herself for her sake all this time; and the Noppera Bou was a consequence of Ocho's mental retreat to cope with the former.

It's a painful process but necessary. Necessary for change.

Therefore the Sword's three requirements are fulfilled, Ocho accepts the truth (her Mother's failings and her own), and by doing so, is set free.

-

QUESTION:

1. If the Noppera Bou is Ocho, then why does she ask the Medicine Seller the reason for him helping her, as if he were a separate entity?

- Now, I found it interesting when Kusuriuri said this: "The Mononoke manipulated that man in a Noh mask and deceived you, to make the house inescapable." Of course this could just mean that the Mononoke had taken on the form of a man to reflect Ocho's inner desires — not that it had possessed some man in a Noh mask.

But then what's even more interesting is the Medicine Seller's response to her question: "If there was a reason, I guess he fell in love... with you." Is this in some way confirming that the Faceless Man is, in fact, its own entity? Or is it commenting on Ocho's self-image?

If that's the case, why would he then say, "What a pitiful Mononoke he was." Again. Implying an individual being.

Perhaps the Noppera Bou had a more complex existence than him simply being Ocho. Maybe not.

Either way, Ocho clearly felt grateful toward him.

Notes:

- A bit bittersweet, the Noppera Bou's characteristic, colorful confetti falls from the sky after Ocho leaves the house.

- On this discussion thread, mystry08 draws attention to a particular desire Ocho may have longed for, which is love. I touched on this a bit before. Perhaps the Noppera Bou was meant to reflect the kind of "tender love" she lacked from her abusive, arranged marriage?

(I know many women can relate to turning to fiction rather than real life when men is involved. 😮‍💨)

It's not the root cause of her problem; but it lends an intimate perspective into Ocho's psyche, and the possibilities behind the Masked Man's form.

[mononokethinker]

Makeshift Translation of Hebigami Trailer

DISCLAIMER: This is in no way a completely accurate translation! I only used Google Translate and my own limited knowledge of Japanese to make an attempt at one. Please don't take anything as canon or fact! With that said, I am more than glad to have anybody fluent in Japanese correct my clumsy try at a translation, or offer any helpful insight. Thank you!

ALSO. Look below the video for translation notes.

BEWARE - If you want to watch the upcoming Hebigami movie knowing absolutely nothing, DO NOT READ #3. The information is officially disclosed and available to read on the Mononoke Movie website, but I can definitely respect the pursuit of anti-knowledge anyhow 👍

1. I put quotes around 'land' because I'm especially uncertain about this translation. I take it as Suikoin referring to the Ōoku, but I was unsure about using a better alternative whilst maintaining accuracy, so I kept the most basic definition.

2. The Midaidokoro was the shogun's official wife. In this case that is Empress Sachiko.

3. 'Please give it back!' I used 'it' but I think context will tell you that Sachiko is implying her baby who passed away, or something relating to. Or maybe not.

4. 'My heart was bound and crushed.' Aside from the fact that this whole sentence is an amateur's translation (Google Translate 🤡), I was doubly uncertain about the pronoun used here. I don't know if the speaker (which I'm pretty sure is the Medicine Seller) is talking about himself (unlikely) or the 'We' from the previous sentence, which is NOT him speaking.

Amendments:

5. 'This is too much to handle.' Looking around I've seen people translate this sentence to 'This is beyond my control.' Which sounds cooler and is probably a more faithful interpretation of the tone.

[mononokethinker]

Umi Bozu (SPOILERS)

EP 3-5

-

Yokai: Supernatural entities and mysterious phenomena.

Ayakashi: "...yokai that haunt the boundary between the ocean and the air..." (Zack Davisson).

Mononoke: "...a mysterious, natural force that could come out any time and kill you..." (Zack Davisson). Or from the Mononoke Wiki: "...spirits born from the grudges and pent-up emotions of people..."

-

I wanted to include definitions of a few of the core terms thrown around in the Umi Bozu arc—excluding 'yokai' which is not used. (That one is just for fun. And from my own ignorance.) Many people employ these words interchangeably, but as seen above not in all cases is this correct.

-

Observations:

-The Medicine Seller says that it'd be impossible for him to slay all ayakashi, as there are millions of them. He also mentions that they travel, specifically, through darkness.

-The Prayer of Hajya that the Medicine Seller requests Genyosai to recite is... puzzling to me. I couldn't find any concrete evidence of it being a real prayer that'd make sense in this context.

-The Medicine Seller regards mononoke with a sort of fascination. During tense situations, this interest can come off as inappropriate or mildly disturbing to others.

-The MS's sword led him to the Sea of Ayakashi.

-I love Kame and the MS's back-and-forth!! She's very likeable—and it's through her curious and friendly nature that we get a glimpse into the MS's more playful side (even if it's at the expense of her frustration LOL) AND answers to some of the questions plaguing us all. (Call that excellent exposition 🍷. )

-According to the MS, they'll "never understand Ayakashi's justification" — opposed to Mononoke which he can only slay with the key components of Truth and Reason. Very different. But then he goes on to say that these emotions ("Grudges, grief, and hatred.") — when attached to Ayakashi — create fiends: a type of Mononoke, perhaps, that is unrestrainable with talismans.

-When Kame hallucinates her fear, the MS tries to calm her down, saying that it's not real and her "'truth' hasn't been changed at all."

I'm assuming that he meant the same 'truth' he requires to slay Mononoke, as the word was also in quotation marks. What does this mean? I don't know.

-The rakugo story Kame refers to when Genyosai chooses manju as his biggest fear is 'Manju Kowai' — a comedic tale where a man falsely admits to manju being his biggest fear so that his friends give him some to eat. At the end, when asked to tell the truth this time, he says green tea.

-It's revealed that the MS's biggest fear is finding a world where mononoke ceases to exist. In his hallucination, he, too, disappears.

Summary:

Bishop Genkei is revealed to be the origin of the Umi Bozu and the Sea of Ayakashi. His fear of Oyo's resentment had bred inside of him and haunted his mind until these emotions formed the Umi Bozu — an 'alter ego' that existed to hide the truth of Genkei's role in his sister's sacrifice, as well his own ugly character by extension.

The Umi Bozu was, in a sense, a coping mechanism for him. It worked so well that even Genkei was blinded, adopting the former story that he recounts to the others as his real history.

He blocked out the selfish, materialistic desires that spurred him to joyously accept Oyo's sacrifice. Thus - Genkei lived in mental turmoil for decades after, weighed by his guilt of being a dual-wielding coward-and-siscon.

By exorcizing that dormant half of his mind — which found its way to the Dragon's Triangle, the source of his woe — the Medicine Seller finally releases Genkei's suppressed memories.

The Bishop remembers, revealing that his love for Oyo was dubious all along. Falling in love with his sister wasn't the source of his unhappiness at all. It was his lack of compassion, his horrible character—which led to Oyo's decision, and then her confession: that she'd rather die than marry another man, because she loved Genkei, her brother, so much.

Upon hearing this, Genkei was stirred. The sheer self-sacrifice Oyo would commit for him moved Genkei to tears, and he came to learn, in his own words, "The joy of being loved."

Her death still happened, but Genkei loathed himself for it. Though a self-serving hypocrite, Oyo loved him. And he knew he didn't deserve it. This reflected in the fear he felt — Oyo would resent him and enact her revenge from beyond the grave (hollow boat). Hence, his fear and guilt combined to manifest the Umi Bozu within and outside of him, the Sea of Ayakashi.

Speculation:

At the end Genkei reverts to a younger, more handsome man, which is supposedly his true appearance. With what we know, this could've been due to a reflection on his physicality, from what he felt about himself. Perhaps the exorcism and truth had absolved, or at least eased, the Bishop's self-deprecation.

I'm curious about what other people think, though, because he looks so... young!

My Thoughts (A TANGENT):

I like the plot and I LOVE a guilty character. Moreso, I love when that guilty character is remorseful and burdened by their actions, desperate to seek absolution or forgiveness. And what's even better? Seeking this intangible redemption over the course of a lifetime!

Yes!

I think it just shows the complexity of morality. Of human nature. Of being neither black, nor white. The works.

What tugs at me is Genkei's change of heart - his realization of how ignorant, sad, and selfish he'd been up to that point. To face your soul so bare and find it so ugly... is a scary thing. It's no wonder why Genkei tried to hide that side of him.

Therefore I have a bit of sympathy for him in this way, if only because he was able to recognize the rot he saw within it. Not many can say that.

And I think most audiences prefer to relate themselves to a hero, or an upstanding, or powerful character (not all of which are necessarily interchangeable). But let's simultaneously lend ourselves a helping of grace and a cup of tough love: NOBODY is perfect. To hurt is a lot more human than to be without fault.

Now. Most of us wouldn't just cast a sibling to the ocean. But I think when it comes to characters like Genkei there is still room for reflection. And that EXCLUDES the typical anti-hero trope which plagues modern works. I mean the type of characters that aren't at all easy to like or root for. Genkei works as one of these because he's not conventionally attractive, endearing, or even somewhat likable. He was pretty null for like the first two episodes, too.

I just think that it's easier to dream of flying, than actually earning a pilot's license. It's a bit like François Truffaut's words: "There's no such thing as an anti-war film." (For the record: I think there is. Just similar sentiment.) We glorify heroism, kindness, and love — but the fact is that these can be very difficult to achieve. If the aim is to encourage such, showing the hard reality could be a lot more effective than a one-dimensional take on the flat-surface of GOOD.

I'd rather there be the undeniable proof of goodwill by it being done by a good-for-nothing.

[mononokethinker]

A particularly cool aspect in Mononoke is the seamless regression into the characters' younger selves when explaining their past — as if they're suddenly transported back in time.

It's not just symbolic or metaphorical, either.

Outwardly, their appearance changes as they relive these memories. They have this haunted quality about them, like they're simultaneously confessing to a life-long secret and committing the deed at the same time. And while they spill the truth, the environment conforms to their confession — which is the Mononoke's work at hand, diving into their psyche, and using it as either psychological warfare or the content to explain its origins. The past seeps into the present, mingling.

Now. Mononoke is unique because it's able to reveal a story in this way. Mononoke are mysterious entities; their supernatural nature allows for supernatural occurrences. Hence, Hisayo is suddenly that cruel madam again. Bishop Genkai is that wide-eyed, young ascetic once more. And everyone watches it all in real-time.

It's like a detective novel with a passage detailing a flashback to the crime. But it's not a flashback at all when we're not going back in time, so much as it's being brought to us (or the MS, etc.).

It's trippy!

(Additionally, I believe the Mononoke has some sort of a mental effect on the person.

It struck me as strange when Hisayo explained the inn's history rather calmly to the Medicine Seller after she was just freaking out.

That's what I also meant when I said "haunted quality" - they tend to inhabit this unnerving state of calm at times. It doesn't help that nobody else addresses the ELEPHANT in the room. But then why should they? It's a supernatural entity they're dealing with, after all.)

I just love that for such a symbolic series, there are parts taken very literally too. (In a way, a lot of it is both symbolic AND literal.) Take Mononoke for instance — they're the manifestation of these abstract feelings humans hold: "Grudges, grief, and hatred." But they're just as much those feelings as they are a... red talking baby 🤔.

I ALSO love the fact that the people the Medicine Seller comes across are INTEGRAL to slaying the Mononoke. He needs them to do his job. Fulfill his purpose. He's so detached from humans, disparate in their mortality - but it's human nature that he essentially pursues, combats, and lives for. He's a sleuth, but he's the most mysterious enigma in the series.

[mononokethinker]

Zashiki Warashi [SPOILERS]

EP 1-2

(Abortion mentioned.)

This is my third watch!

Observation:

-True to the lore of the Zashiki Warashi, Mononoke depicts them residing in the foundations of a building—though not that of a traditional Japanese house.

-Only the pregnant woman is able to hear and see the Zashiki Warashi. Possibly a deliberate allowance of the yokai. And likely that they are intrigued or affected by her pregnant state.

-Hisayo continuously looks down on Shino's decisions, including that of keeping her baby and her relationship with the Young Master.

-After Shino exclaims that all she wants is "to bring this baby into the world" a loud noise is heard and the room begins to shake; the mononoke was possibly affected by her emotions.

-There's a scene where the Medicine Seller seems to silently converse with his sword.

-Hisayo says that the Abortion Room was to "comfort them" and for "their souls to rest" — referring to all the babies that were aborted in there, then stored in the walls. She considers it "an act of kindness."

-The mononoke mocks Shino's naivety, possibly because of the emotions and attitude it was formed by—which Hisayo seems a staunch example of.

-The Zashiki Warashi wants to have their own mother and be born, so they target Shino's pregnant self.

-The long, red papers that attack Hisayo and Tokuji represent all the babies that they aborted.

-The scene where Tokuji's limbs are scattered and hanging from the ceiling may be referencing the aborted babies.

-The Medicine Seller (and I) is surprised by Shino's insistence that she gives birth to the Zashiki Warashi babies.

Ending Speculation:

POSSIBLY BIASED. But I prefer that Shino's baby is fine at the end TT — and so she mustn't have miscarried after all, though it seems likely.

The doll, representing her unborn baby, slowly cracks while expressing gratitude toward Shino. Because of this, and the blood that drips from her legs from the previous scene, it wouldn't be far-fetched to think that Shino unfortunately miscarries.

However, I believe these could be symptoms of the numerous Zashiki Warashi spirits wanting to be born from her pregnancy (instead of a natural miscarriage)—which fail as the Medicine Seller successfully unsheathes his sword. The spirits disappear, slayed. Only the yellow doll remains, not entirely shattered nor disconnected from Shino. We see that her charm is with her again, signifying that her baby is (possibly) still alive and well.

I've read theories that Shino had miscarried before entering the inn, when her charm fell off. Her baby appearing as one of the Zashiki Warashi, then thanking her for being their mother as the doll cracks, could just as well support this.

I think this is possible, too.

I like to believe Shino happily goes on to give birth to her baby—but the ending (like everything else in Mononoke) is ambiguous for a reason. We can only speculate and come to our own conclusions. And I don't think a lot of the other proposed endings I've seen are impossible either, objectively speaking.

[mononokethinker]

(TESTICLE MENTION)

According to this interview, Karakasa is about "newcomers" (referring to Asa and Kame) while Hinezumi is about "mid-career employees" — hence Fuki and Botan.

And so it's very possible that the last movie will therefore touch upon the experience of a "late-career employee" — or more specifically, the Emperor's mother.

I know it's already pretty obvious that Suikoin will most likely play a big role in the upcoming Hebigami, but I just wanted to place emphasis on the fact that she'd be the prime example of this so far. We can assume she entered the Ōoku as a young woman, had Tenshi, and then maintained her high status from this thereafter. Now, after the events of Hinezumi, Suikoin even has sole rule over the Ōoku. And where Fuki is at the moment in her "career" as concubine, Suikoin has already been through.

I can only theorize that the Ōoku will be run very traditionally under her, and therefore be—once again—the starring stage of unethical "business" practices. I also think Hebigami will revisit Lady Suzu's incident, albeit briefly, in connection with Suikoin who had glimpsed the woman during the scene where Sayo burns to death.

Does that mean Suikoin personally knew Suzu? Was she a conspirator in her death? A friend? Or was she just a fellow member of the Emperor's harem, a spectator?

What would all that mean for Suikoin's role in Hebigami?

Well. The common factor is "been there, done that" LOL. Possibly, Suikoin will turn out to be another Utayama, reinforcing an oppressive environment within the Ōoku. But I think that's too predictable and reused. I believe the writers' approach to Suikoin's authority will have to be more unique. Personal. It could be said that her power is on an entirely different scale than our previous antagonists; we've seen "local" (Utayama) and "state" (Otomo) examples of authority — but not so much that within the obvious, overarching "federal" realm.

(I know I'm not the only one curious about why blank-faced Tenshi only seems concerned about the affairs of the Ōoku when it's time to get his balls squeezed. Maybe it's because as Emperor he feels these matters are below him 🤔 — but we've seen that he definitely has a say in how the Ōoku is run to an extent, if not entirely. He just doesn't explicitly express it himself: 🧍🏻. Because of this and his relative lack of involvement since Karakasa, I speculated that he was just a puppet ruler. But for who? I would've thought the usual suspects, but they're dead. Instead, if he does turn out to be one, I think Suikoin would be the most likely one pulling the strings in actuality. Either way, both of their roles are probably going to be further explored in Hebigami.)

Although, I have a hard time figuring out what could be "higher" than national interest 😭 as was Otomo's rationale. (Ooh. What if it's for religious reasons? The Ōoku venerates the 'Water Goddess' after all. Then Suikoin's assumed oppression would be to uphold... servitude to the well? Interestingly, despite the bodies that had been thrown down there, the women still drink from it. This route would also elaborate on the mystery shrouding this 'deity' and the shrine-keeper and his daughters.)

BUT that reasoning would only work if Suikoin is indeed the next antagonist. She fits the late-career employee archetype, but in this case the "employees" are usually the victims (Asa, Kame, Fuki, Suzu, Kitagawa, etc.). This makes me think of Suzu again—and how something from the past may resurface as the next mononoke. Perhaps Suikoin was a victim of the system herself? And now a product of her surroundings? Or maybe the writers will take a slightly different direction in this movie. Regardless, if it's of a similar theme of injustice and the "fallacy of composition" I believe Suikoin is just too powerful to not play some kind of role in it — whether as enforcer or something else.

I'm inclined toward the former though, from what we've been shown so far.

[mononokethinker]

Masterlist

Movies

- Themes of Karakasa and Hinezumi

- Suikoin's Possible Role In Hebigami

- Makeshift Translation of the Hebigami Trailer

Anime

- Zashiki Warashi Observations

- Umi Bozu Observations

- Noppera Bou Observations

- Mononoke, People, and the Past

[mononokethinker]

Overarching Themes of (Karakasa and) Hinezumi

[SPOILERS]

1

In Hinezumi, Lady Fuki finds herself in a very similar position as the late Lady Suzu.

Both are from lesser families in a hierarchical Japan who have miraculously climbed the ranks in the Ōoku to become desirable concubines. They fall pregnant; they rejoice; and are consequently pressured to abort their babies because of their lowly backgrounds.

"This realm needs those who can see the bigger picture."

We see a "higher perspective" again—but dressed in political righteousness.

Councilor Otōmo justifies the scheming, killing, and oppression in the Ōoku as a necessary means to maintain peace in Japan, by preventing the possibility of a conflict over succession. His disposition translates to an unrepentant and remorseless attitude toward both Fuki and Suzu's situations, both of which he himself plays a crucial hand in causing.

Utayama does the same in Karakasa to maintain the status-quo of the Ōoku.

And, once more, the theme of individual sacrifice for the preservation of a system is reinforced.

Furthermore, in this interview, Nakamura himself introduces the term "fallacy of composition" and outright states that it is the "theme of the film trilogy."

(Please note that the interview was translated from Japanese to English by Google Translate and may have inaccuracies as a result.)

However, I debated on whether or not this definition could be accurately applied to the issues of the Ōoku.

It'd be more correct to use 'interest' instead of 'characteristic' — and 'truth' seems too broad.

Instead: 'What is in the individual's interest may not be that of the group.'

Or: 'The desires of the individual is NOT needed, nor considered in the Ōoku.'

Both essentially deal with a situation where the individual and group are (possibly) at conflict.

"You're willing to hand guardianship of the child to us, the Fujimaki Family?"

Nakamura elaborates on this notion by taking a diplomatic stance.

"It's difficult to find the optimal solution, and it's impossible to satisfy every individual 100%, so we have to find something that's just 'good enough.'"

He believes that compromising is the answer to the Individual vs. Group dilemma—where not only does the individual make concessions, but the group too.

In the scene above, Lady Fuki allows the Fujimaki Family to adopt guardianship of her baby on the sole condition that she raises the child.

On the other hand, Nakamura states, "...I also say in the drama that you should never throw away what is important to you, so there is no need to throw away your heart either."

Kitagawa's suicide was the consequence of her metaphorically throwing her heart away; Suzu's too. As a result, the Karakasa and Hinezumi were given form. And for their 'successors' — Asa and Lady Fuki — these mononoke act as a caution against casting that which is "most important" to them, either months or decades later when history starts to repeat itself.

Lady Kitagawa does this by cryptically warning Asa not to "dry up."

Likewise, Fuki is able to glimpse into Lady Suzu's memories and realize that she too is treading the same sad fate as the concubine once did.

Referring to their suicides, Nakamura says this:

"I don't want people to give up on themselves."

Now: I want to add my own (possibly controversial 🤕) cent to the Individual's conflict inside Karakasa and Hinezumi—which is the theme of betrayal.

It can be argued that Kitagawa and Suzu's principle issue (and therefore "downfall"), in a sense, was not the oppression caused by such a collectivist environment, nor those in power devising it—BUT, instead, their own choices to submit to them.

And, doubtlessly, they had a choice.

Or else their resulting mononoke wouldn't have been so adamant, fierce, and involved with Asa or Fuki. Because what Kitagawa and Suzu went through, they knew it was ultimately avoidable. Hence, Kitagawa's ominous, melancholic advice; and Suzu's scathing self-reproach.

(In fact, Suzu's regret was so horrible that even her Hanemizu had manifested this by committing self-immolation, repeatedly.

Also, her trademark phrase, directed toward herself, is "Unforgivable.")

After all, they had discovered the severest consequence of a soul depleted—when one neglects their own self to an extreme degree, where the mental and emotional isn't only ignored, whether intentionally or not, but actively suppressed: that is, death.

I use the word betrayal for the fact that they had irrevocably failed themselves.

Only Kitagawa could have kept her cherished doll.

Only Suzu could have refused her father.

It's our own responsibility to love and take care of ourselves. We are our foremost friend—for who else is there beside us, in every step, breath, thought, and all that we do? Who else is there that can truly claim to have shared in all our pain and joy and everything in between, as us? And so should we also not have the compassion within us, to extend to our most faithful, life-long companion?

Just some food for thought. 🤔

At the same time, I don't deny or underestimate the two women's circumstances; nor do I believe that they fully understood the extent of their actions. Kitagawa wasn't aware of the bodies in the well. And Suzu realized only afterward that aborting her baby wasn't worth maintaining the Saijo Family's status.

But if they didn't have a choice, then what did they regret?

[mononokethinker]

Overarching Themes of Karakasa (and Hinezumi)

[SPOILERS]

In Karakasa, the women of the Ōoku — whether maidservant or intimate 'companion' of the Emperor — are expected to devote their entire lives serving him.

This act of dedication is simultaneously symbolized and actualized by the tossing of their cherished belongings into the Water Goddess's well, as seen at Asa and Kame's orientation.

It's to signify a new start, and self.

"Rather than forging your own path, you must contribute to the Ōoku."

Utayama proceeds to say that they will "gain a higher perspective" as the women do so.

Her words set the precedence for the overarching theme in both Karakasa and Hinezumi (and I assume the last installment of the trilogy too): that what is dear to them is a distraction or interference, and therefore must be rid of, for the sake of their duty.

The women aren't here for anything other than the Emperor. Certainly not themselves.

"Throw away the person you were until now."

In casting away these physical reminders, the women are emotionally isolated from their former lives. Lonely and vulnerable, they are then moreover thrust into this new environment: rigidly-ruled and subtly competitive. What is it therefore easier to fall onto, for comfort?

The ease of conformity.

And so it could be said that the Ōoku is a system deliberately fueled on harsh collectivism.

HOWEVER.

It should not be disregarded that many of the women's motivations for conforming to these strict rules isn't necessarily a result of vulnerability, but of their own determination to rise through the ranks—whether that may be as Scribe or as concubine.

Ironically, in that sense, though one should submit and blend in with the faceless crowd, it is in the end an act of personal growth.

And ultimately, in futility.

Asa almost succeeds the fate of her occupational predecessor, Lady Kitagawa—and learns only too soon that continuing to suppress herself with the rigidity of duty will lead her to a similar, miserable end.

Kitagawa's suicide was the catalyst of the Karakasa manifesting. Victims of the Ōoku thereafter are literally withered as an effect of stifling their internal needs.

'Drying up' is the act of self-purpose, happiness, individuality, and character drained. Duty consumes the soul: but it cannot sustain it.

Karakasa's existence can therefore be seen as an allegory for the trammels of the collectivist society.

More specifically, the Japanese work scene.

CNA Insider interviews Ryo Nitta—a director of the Work Style Innovation Research Institute in Japan—in this YouTube video.

Nitta says, "...employment practices are not based on people applying and taking specific jobs.

Instead, employees enter into a contract to become members of an organization.

This means employment is almost like a blank agreement, where the company holds significant authority over personnel decisions."

Drawing parallels, the Ōoku symbolically represents the 'organization' and the 'personnel' are the women serving inside.

And we can assume that very rarely will such a system lead to self-fulfillment or happiness, in real life.

More broadly, though, this allegory could be applied to societies in general; or the watcher's own experiences.

Such is the beauty of art!

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