#step.animanga

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endlessly funny that fans have been theorizing for weeks about the trees being some strange expression of the aging devil's power but when finally asked about it he's just like

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I watched Look Back with a friend of mine recently. The timing was coincidental but since Chainsaw Man also ended recently the similarities are kind of on my mind. "What if, in another world, we had never met, none of our struggles had happened, and we were better off for it?" Seems to be a theme Fujimoto enjoys mulling about and playing with. If I really wanted to I could also try to connect this to Fire Punch, in which themes of identity and how much is maintained in the absence of memory make up major themes in the series' back half. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it Goodbye Eri has a lot of this too. The author definitely has a fascination with the idea of "what remains when all memory of the original events and relationship is gone?"

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One strength of Ranma 1/2 is that it knows when is a good time to "yes, and" itself.

The Kuno family is I think a good example of this. Tatewaki Kuno is introduced almost immediately as the manga begins, as a threat and annoyance to Akane and Ranma. He is self-centered enough to come up with the idea to force Akane into daily fights so that he can date her, powerful enough to convince most of the school to go along with his nonsense, and delusional enough to see this as a good thing, something that fits in his mental narrative of chivalrous manhood. Soon after, we meet his sister, who is much the same as him, perhaps even more vicious in the injuries she inflicts on those in her way.

After their introductions, they stick around as major characters, occasionally threats, rivals, or nuisances as the plot demands, regular parts of the Ranma 1/2 character background tapestry. It's long enough for the readers to get used to them. At first readers might wonder how they manage to get away with everything they do for so long, but given time and exposure to more of the world this tends to fade out. Okay, it's weird that a random sports club captain can rally the school to attack Akane. But in a world with such an over the top tone as Ranma's, where rivals chase you all over the world, magic-using Chinese amazons challenge people to deathmatches, and monkeys can be masters of martial arts and also eligible for marriage, it doesn't really scan as needing a special explanation.

And only then, after over 100 chapters have passed and the readers have become used to it, that's when they introduce the Kunos' father as a character. He is the principal of the school, holding complete influence over the school, and even outside of that holds a ridiculous amount of personal wealth; thus neatly explaining his children's avoidance of consequences. He shares his children's self interest, but amplified even further, treating the whole student body as toys for his amusement. It quickly gets to the point where readers think, oh, yeah, I can see how being raised by somebody like this would result in kids like the Kunos.

I just think it's neat because the series didn't need to offer any kind of explanation for Kuno, really, they could have left it as is, but the author realized there was a good opportunity for elaboration, for the series to look at its own setup and ask "yes, and?" And then seeing what they can add.

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The problem with Dress-Up Darling coming up with so many fictional series that Marin could plausibly be into is that they all kinda make me wish they were real.

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It's interesting how I see the detective very differently now that I know her past. The detective outfit and cigs added to the intimidating aura when she was a mysterious and ruthless hunter. But now that I know that its cosplay and her dads old shit from a 10 year long mental breakdown she just seems so pitiful.

I was going back and forth on if that was intentional or not but her very next scene a few minutes later has her contemplating suicide. So I do think the series is altering its framing of her, emphasize the parts that aren't just the dedicated to killing.

Even near the end of the episode, when she gets into a fistfight with Akkun, the way the story shows her is a little different. She's still as powerful and violent as ever during the actual fight, winning handily against a skilled vampire. But then the camera keeps following her as she makes her exit.

And she's completely tired and out of breath jogging away from the battle. Because unlike vampires, with infinite youth and stamina, she has to deal with human limitations.

In previous episodes, she had been shown from the vampire's perspective, as their own personal horror movie monster. If the fight this ep had been shot with the same effect in mind, ending the scene with Akkun trapped and her leaving menacingly, it would have seemed the same. But now that we've peeked into her perspective, the audience sees the struggles that go into it from her point of view, the moments of weakness and vulnerability like this one that the previous framing couldn't show.

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I like the imagery here where her villainous plan was to cause quiet nights. Obviously the series has done a great job writing her as a personal and emotional threat to the main characters, between willingness towards violence and her connection to Nazuna's past, but this adds on the element that she is also ideologically opposed to them, and by extension thematically opposed to the show itself.

Nazuna and the other vampires revel in the titular "call of the night," the drive that people have to stay up late and fulfil their desires regardless of societal disapproval or convention. Not just for their own personal enjoyment or because they need these humans to survive, but also just because that is how they see people living a good life.

There is a reason that both Nazuna and Kou have scenes this season staring out into a lit night cityscape, in wonder that each light represents a whole person living their own life in the night. It doesn't matter that they will likely never meet; just the idea that people are out there, living their own 'nights,' is important to them.

Thus, Anko's plan, causing mass terror to inspire curfews and lockdowns, isn't just opposed to them practically, though yes, the idea that the plan would starve out every vampire who relies on the night to feed is threatening on its own. But also serves as an effective foil for the main cast, someone who believes in a lifestyle completely opposed to them. (That she wants enforce these quiet nights on everybody in the world, for a plan driven primarily by her own pain, fear, and trauma, is character note all on its own!) It really is very neat storytelling.

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The first episode of Turkey!, a recent bowling anime, focuses on imploding relationships of the protagonist's high school bowling club. The conflict stems from a disagreement between their new members on the club's purpose - the newest member, Rina, takes competitive bowling seriously, and wants to have a club dedicating to improving the skills of the members, while three of the others treat bowling more as a social experience, wanting the club to be a fun place where they can hang out with their friends. Club leader Mai has her preference left deliberately unstated in this debate; she prioritizes keeping the club together, stating that she wants to find a way to keep both parties happy. Everybody else in the club tells her that these are two conflicting ideals, that these two goals are opposite and you cannot structure the club in a way that achieves both.

Incidentally, Mai's own struggles with bowling skills are reflected by her rolling splits that break any winning streak she ends up on. Whenever she starts doing too well, she will roll a position in which only the two furthest pins remain. Rina accuses her of intentionally self-sabotaging. Mai's friend, though kinder, says that splits always end badly for her because she refuses to do the cautious thing and put down one pin. Instead, she says, Mai is the kind of girl to always try and hit both pins at once, leading her to hit neither.

It must feel really, really, good, as a writer, when you manage to set up a metaphor that comes together so cleanly.

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It's hard to really gauge some of the characters and relationships in Ranma 1/2 because everything is so over-the-top. This is a world where actions are exaggerated for dramatic and comedic effect. So sometimes its difficult to tell if one should be judging by real life standards or Ranma standards.

Like, in real life if somebody tried to cause somebody else possibly-deadly violence I'd assume they were bitter enemies. But in an action series like Ranma this is how the main characters make half their friends. But this also applies to non-violence related activities; generally arguments, threats, potential loss to reputation or livelihood, are all played off significantly more easily than they would be in reality.

As some examples, I tend to see Ranma and Ryoga as friends, even though they have plenty of violence and threats between them. And I see Nabiki as somebody who does care about her family, despite all the times she takes advantage of them financially or hurts their reputations. Stuff like that. Because these things that might be dealbreakers in reality aren't really portrayed that way in the series.

But sometimes this portrayal can break down a little when there are subjects that the audience and the author aren't treating with the same level of seriousness. Like, for Genma, the more serious framing of his actions towards Ranma makes him seem violent and controlling, a perpetrator of really awful child abuse. Which many readers tend to find harder to see past that ordinary violence. I don't actually think the author intended him to come off this way though. If you look at the way the characters treat each other Genma is more often treated as, while kind of a sleaze and a scammer, a kind of decent father figure and martial artist. Stuff like "give Ranma cat-related PTSD" mostly shows up as slapstick jerkishness rather than torture of a child. Happosai is another big one for this. I often get the sense in his scenes that the author wants him to be seen as kind of a sitcom style comedic jerk, someone we don't sympathize with but do find funny. But like, a huge part of his gimmick is stuff that reads as pretty unambiguous sexual abuse if you take it remotely seriously. And for a topic like that most of the audience are going to read it as serious regardless of how light the author seems to write it. Maybe that kind of thing was seen as less inherently serious in the 90s, I'm not old enough to be able to say.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, I don't say this to condemn or praise any specific reading or audience interpretation of the characters. I just think it's interesting that there exists this tension in tonally lighthearted works between the actual actions portrayed and the tone of the world being written.