Ryuko: Senketsu, if I go too far, Iâll need you to stop me.
Senketsu: I cannot promise that. It is you who is wearing me.
Ryuko: Sheesh, youâre an outfit that doesnât have much give, you know that?
Senketsu: But when you were out of control, you did stop. Using your own willpower. That is why I am not frightened in the least.
Ryuko: Gotcha. Weâre all responsible for our own actions.
Iâve written pretty extensively on Ryuko and Senketsuâs relationship and why I think itâs so healthy, positive, and commendable (to put it mildly). But I donât think Iâve focused enough attention on the above scene from episode 13, âCrazy For You,â which is a particularly strong example of the merits of Ryuko and Senketsuâs partnership.
On a surface level, the moment emphasizes and is utterly dedicated to the importance of good and proper communicationâsomething especially noteworthy in a series that even describes itself as having a âlightning paceâ (episode 16). By focusing so heavily on Ryuko and Senketsuâs conversation, thereâs a considerable significance placed on talking to and being honest with a friend; the message is clearly and unambiguously that in any close relationship, itâs absolutely crucial to be open and truthful with one another. Otherwise, youâre not going to get along well. As Mako puts it earlier in the episode, youâll just be âglarinâ at each other.â
Of course, a scene devoted to the positive effects of strong interpersonal skills probably doesnât seem all that groundbreaking, but in an action-comedy anime, I love the inclusion of such a thing. It would have been so easy to gloss over emotions and provide viewers with over-the-top battles and little else, but Kill la Kill decided to breathe some real life and soul into Ryuko and Senketsuâs teamwork. The two of them have to endure hardships and struggles just like any real relationship, and just like in any real relationship, they have to work through those hardships and struggles to come back together.
More on that line, the moment is also remarkably humanizingâand sweetâfor Ryuko. Throughout the episode, Ryuko hides her guilt and self-hatred behind flimsy assurances that sheâs all right and explosive anger and rage. She smiles reassuringly at Makoâs mother, Sukuyo, and she yells fiercely at Shinjiro Nagita, but in the end, she finally, finally reveals everything on her mind to Senketsu. Weâre then left with a character who is far more than an infallible hero or the âstraight-up punkâ that she describes herself as (episode 8); Ryuko is a flawed, complicated human being whom viewers can readily empathize with, and, as a result, itâs incredibly endearing to see her let down her walls and allow someone into her heart.Â
Kill la Kill comes off as a strangely affecting and memorable series due to all this narrative weight placed on real-life emotions and feelings while the characters inhabit a world thatâs one of the most ridiculous to ever be put on screen, and when it comes to the included scene at the top of this post, I think thatâs a phenomenal thing. Because that scene? Itâs also wonderful when you consider the history of how relationships have been portrayed in fiction.
While Ryuko and Senketsu are far from the ânorm,â itâs not at all uncommon for a fictional story to imply that itâs essentially one personâs âresponsibilityâ to keep another person in line. In the article âThe Vulnerability of the Relational Self: The Implications of Ideals of Gender and Romance for Female Survivors of Intimate Partner Violence,â author Elizabeth McManaman Grosz discusses this topic at length, arguing that âthe notion that a special woman can tame the beastâ and âis thus, in a way, responsible for controlling his beastly natureâ is one of the widespread cultural discourses that effectively âprimesâ women to accept and brush off instances of abuse (81, 88).Â
Again, of course, I recognize that, in many ways, Ryuko and Senketsu really donât have any place in Groszâs argument. For one, Grosz exclusively utilizes the work of Western authors and philosophers to support her position, and entire other books have been written concerning Japanâs ideals of gender and romance and their implications and effects (believe me, Iâm in the midst of reading through just some of said books). On top of that, the fact that Ryuko would be taking the place of the âmanâ in the situation I screenshotted for this post does question the applicability of Groszâs article here.
But I find Groszâs thesis compelling in regards to Kill la Kill because, in a lot of ways, Ryuko and Senketsu do rather embody typical positions of men and women in fictional stories both East and West⊠except, the roles are reversed. Ryuko is the unruly, aggressive, and hot-blooded protagonist just as a man often is, and Senketsu exhibits many traits that are traditionally associated with women; heâs sensitive, emotional, and a considerable worrywart. Further, while I find the term âlove interestâ both degrading and unfitting for Senketsu in a series that Word of God denies any romantic intention for, I have to admit that he fits many of the conventions. In an anime with a cast primarily composed of women, the fact that Senketsu is arguably coded as male makes him, just as the standard heteronormative âlove interest,â the most narratively significant character of another gender in the show (for just a few other examples, see Ran from Detective Conan, Sam from Danny Phantom, Katara from Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon). Whether Iâm watching an anime or an American cartoon, I donât think Iâd be too surprised to see a scenario like the one from the end of Kill la Killâs thirteenth episode, where a man tells a woman that heâs afraid of losing control and needs her to be there for him so that he doesnât.
What makes Kill la Kill different is more than the simple reversal of roles, though; Kill la Kill also reverses the harmful implications of this standard set-up. Instead of it being Senketsuâs âjobâ to âlead [Ryuko] to âmoral decency,ââ as philosopher Immanuel Kant noted a woman must do for a man in the late eighteenth century and of which Grosz argues is an ideal continued on even to this day (such as in sports culture, as elaborated upon in Susan Bordoâs The Male Body: A New Look at Men in Public and Private), Senketsu outright tells Ryuko that she must be in control of herself (qtd. in Grosz 87). Itâs not Senketsuâs responsibility to keep Ryuko from abusing him, and the fact that both understand and acknowledge this is, well, good. Senketsu is not going to write off or blame himself for any mistreatment he receives from Ryuko because he feels he failed in âpleasingâ her, and Ryukoâs ending sentiment that â[w]eâre all responsible for our own actionsâ indicates that she feels the same way towards him. Both Ryuko and Senketsu are cognizant of each otherâs emotions and needs, and they will not allow abuse to continue without a word about it, as is sadly often the case in reality (Grosz 95).
It would still be nice to have an actual situation in which a man is in the standard âmanâ position, but Iâm happy to see anything like this at all. Abuse and mistreatment are seriously discussed, the responsibility for poor behavior is placed solely on the actor rather than the receiver, and the fact that this kind of moment receives so much focus in the first place absolutely signifies the importance and power of proper communication with a loved one. Ryuko and Senketsu are my most favored relationship in all of fiction, and itâs scenes like this that really emphasize why.
Bordo, Susan. The Male Body: A New Look at Men in Public and in Private. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1999.
Grosz, Elizabeth McManaman. âThe Vulnerability of the Relational Self: The Implications of Ideals of Gender and Romance for Female Survivors of Intimate Partner Violence.â Womenâs Studies, vol. 47, no. 1, 2018, pp. 80-97.Â
Kant, Immanuel. Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View. Translated by Victor Lyle Dowdell. Southern Illinois UP, 1978.
Kant, Immanuel. Observations on the Feeling of the Beautiful and the Sublime and Other Writings. Edited by Patrick Frierson and Paul Guyer. Cambridge UP, 2011.Â