Pain, Pity, and the Darkness: A Personal Reflection on Episode 13 of Re:Zero

Today, I wanted to discuss an episode that I witnessed for the first time yesterday. And, of course, in the beginning, it seemed so straightforward. A work of art won’t ravage your insides right away, at least normally. The episode I am referring to, Episode 13 of Re:Zero, has been the subject of fervent discussion. (Of course, that means that spoilers are to be expected, not that people unfamiliar with the show will understand.) There have been fervent discussions on this episode of course; see blackdragonhunt’s analysis for an informal yet academic perspective.

In case, this isn’t obvious, my intent is different. For, this episode was a legendary occurrence for me -- a work of art capable, in only 25 minutes, of breaking my fragile shell of apathy. This episode follows the royal selection process, which includes Emilia as a candidate. In the eyes of the council, Emilia is half-elf, the same as being half-devil, and so she faces discrimination. Earlier in the series, Subaru mistakes Emilia for the Witch, a tremendously feared being, drawing Emilia’s ire. But certainly here the councilmen, the nobility, the knights, and the royal candidates all have come to an unconscious decision to hold it against Emilia.

Subaru, trying to stand up for Emilia-tan (EMT) during the royal ceremony, managed to disrupt EMT’s very precarious chances. Beyond harming the reputation of EMT, Subaru finds himself becoming farther away from her, despite his proclaimed love. She tells him to stop, but he continues, for he is frantic to serve his purpose to her – frantic to be important to someone special to him. But, at some point, he flies into a frenzy, seeking to fight the council and everyone else on behalf of EMT. And still, she pleads him to stop, but he forges ahead. Subaru messes up not once, twice, or even three times – he, by insulting the institution of knighthood, finds himself fighting Julius, the knight of Anastasia the purple-haired royal candidate, with wooden swords.  A bloodied pulp soundly defeated, Subaru collapses as the screen turns to black, and Emilia screams his name.

Even though Subaru is fictional, I understand his pain as something of my own. His actions for EMT are because she is special to him, simple as that – even though they resonated with his defeat. The last time I truly experienced this devastation from a show was Clannad After Story, when that happened, momentarily shattering any perception that the world is a comfortable or warm place. Instead of being slightly productive, I spent half an hour sobbing, with my fists clenched, and feeling rotten. And by me were anatomy notes, for my test the next day. But the effects lingered on – by the next day and onwards, I had returned to a deep depression. Somehow, I had managed to get full marks on that test, but it didn’t put a dent in my sadness. This episode of Re:Zero was more or less the same for me, because I understood the pain deeply.  

His difficulties, however, rise to their highest as the episode draws to a final scene. Disoriented, Subaru wakes up to find Emilia sitting by his bedside, and to learn he hasn’t died. Emilia, after the events of the ceremony, has many questions and concerns. Subaru dashes this discussion with his talk about doing everything for her sake.  His eyes narrow, and he stammers in surprise, when she announces her decision to leave him in the capital. Through the course of this conversation, Emilia is forced from a soft, strict tone to enflamed anger – from her throwing her cloak at him, to her standing up -- to tell Subaru that she doesn’t need his special treatment.

After this episode, Subaru is the hero destroyed by his hubris, and nobody can rightly claim he did not deserve his downfall. Emilia screams, “I told you, I don’t understand!”, trying to get Subaru to understand. It’s a one sided argument, with Subaru losing badly. But the show highlights his paralysis  -- the purple hands that foretell doom appear, and he is forced to give up on his explanation. This exchange is so powerful yet painful because both parties are helpless, even as one person shares a larger portion of the blame. One can’t help but cringe when Subaru lists off his accomplishments in protecting Emilia – as a viewer, we know of those debts, but it shows Subaru backed into a corner.

Heading for the door, Emilia’s last words are “I thought maybe you…That only you wouldn’t give me special treatment.” But Subaru admits that he can’t. These are words of defeat. Subaru is now the fallen hero, the one who failed to save anyone, but was most abrasively destroyed by himself. Who would feel for Subaru? Emilia is in the right, no matter how painful the situation is for both of them – and there is no way for that friendship to continue. Again, who would feel for Subaru? Emilia is the one most visibly harmed. So, one last time, who would feel for Subaru, except to release an iota of pity?

Then, allow me to, in my hubris, share that pity – I have been in a similar situation. It would be satisfying, in a sadistic way, to say Subaru was horrendously in the wrong. But, in a way, I was Subaru in that last scene too, trying desperately to cling onto something special. That’s where the immeasurable sorrow comes from. Subaru, in the last seconds of the episode, pulls Emilia’s cloak towards him, as he sniffles – that was me, hating the world instead of studying.

The crux of the matter is the lack of mutual understanding in the relationship between Emilia and Subaru, not simply bad behavior. It was something intrinsic, something moral that caused the divergence; a complete disagreement.

As for how I understand this…my first year of college, I had a friend, someone who I wasn’t fond of at first – but after working together on a project, we grew closer, and she ended up as one of my few close, by my standards, IRL friends. Our relationship strengthened over time, until something happened to me. My legs grew resilient to my command and became numb – as I struggled to figure out what was going on, I found myself despairing while forcing my way through school. Similar to the purple hands that guide Subaru to death, and bar him from speaking, my legs seemed to lead me astray – for both of us, our respective omens represented and reinforced trauma. My reliance on my friend seemed to expand exponentially, emotionally and academically—but in my state, my metaphorical weakness had grown greatly, and our friendship declined. Four classes together, but hardly anything outside of school, and I had started struggling to remain focused. Like Subaru did with Emilia-tan, I began showering my friend with excessive attention and affection, suspecting that it may be wrong but never fully realizing it.

And, the implicit “Stop” was stated, but never quite grasped. But one day, the apparent point of no return was hit, and I never realized I had showered her with the special treatment I had never meant to. As someone who prides himself on being cognizant of social justice, this situation felt unfair, downright cruel – at this point, I understood not to put someone on a pedestal, but that does not stop it from happening.  My friend and I argued, much like Subaru and Emilia did, over who was right, and what was wrong. But our words ended up being talking at each other, rather than a meaningful discussion.

Most importantly, self-reliance was the central topic – both of us had worried our relationship had become too entangled, which became difficult for the friendship and for school. Emilia shouting “I don’t understand!” describes how these conversations always flowed. My friend refused to be around me more than she had to, which made the self-reliance issue murkier.

But the pain I was in at the time clouded my judgment further – I became convinced I was worthless, but wanted to be special to her. Well, not just to her, but still to her. But these thoughts led to a delusion that my friend had some need for me, at the very least for school – yet, there’s always friends to help, friends other than me. Similarly, Subaru saw himself as Emilia’s best knight, but she had people like Roswaal-sama, Rem, and Ram. You see yourself as the hero, but that just blinds you to the reality that this world – and other worlds – are based on teamwork. And in your delusion, you don’t see that you fall out of that pattern, and get stuck. So I got stuck on that view of my friend, and that led to us drifting apart.

Maybe this is just silly projecting, but Subaru’s struggle resonated in me as I watched this friendship, this very special friendship, of mine begin to fade into nothing. But both cruelties – that of Emilia, and that of my friend – are performed to shatter the illusion, and are done with compassion, even if they are painful. Breaking off a friendship is far different from rebuking a stranger, but it be utterly devastating in the moment. And like Subaru, I was acting in the moment and thinking of my pain – physical and emotional – rather than the other person clearly.

But then, the person is gone, and healing requires moving on. That is true for Subaru, and that was true for me. However, there’s a snag: forgetting means ignoring what was special. I for my friend and Subaru for Emilia, his friend, sought to act on feelings of “special,” even if that amounts to special treatment. And the presence of a physical memento can be constraining – Subaru holds Emilia’s cloak, and I still have a book loaned to me by my friend. So, move forward with the pain, knowing that the trauma will likely never fade, and incorporate it into a new future. Like the me sobbing instead of studying, and like Subaru sniffling after Emilia leaves, the only path is forward.

Rather than mere pity, I feel the utmost empathy for Subaru, having been there – being there. Even if you are likely in the wrong, and that your pain does not make up for the terrible situation, you will be stuck with a decaying relationship. I could pretend to hold answers, but I know nothing, scarcely more than what I did a few years ago. Except, and this holds for both of us, that that precious person should live on in memories, even if the physical separation becomes painful. Otherwise, claiming them as special, and losing them because of special treatment, might become obsolete.

Watching this episode was equivalent to being submerged in a pot of sadness, fear, and anger, slow cooked into something that sinks to the bottom of one’s stomach. But there is a sliver of hope, that beyond the pain, emotionally and physically, something valuable rests. After weathering the suffering myself, I was eventually able to grab hold of an ideal of growing, even with the painful separation. In the following episodes, may Subaru find the thread that he can pull himself on towards a brighter future.

A Brief Discussion of Ryuu no Moriuta, a Fantasy Romance Tale

In pursuit of formal (“neutral”) discourse, my tendency has been towards creating a focus and thoroughly exploring it like a true academic. Here will be an opposition. Below is page 1 of Ryuu no Moriuta, a manga chapter written and drawn by Akizuki Sorata, mangaka of Snow White with the Red Hair. (Veritably, the true point of this discussion will be to introduce to the world the beauty of this manga.)

 

This page is beautifully elegant yet simple: fair Shuen, depicted in panel 2, is head priestess to the stately “Dragon Child” by the name of Kito. Sorata’s intricate drawings tug at the metaphorical shirt of the reader by vividly illuminating Shuen’s expression – using mainly light-dark dynamics, Sorata captures grief through Shuen’s upended eyebrows, brilliant eyes, pristine tears, and disrupted eyelids. Shuen, eyes closed, would prefer the world ending to Kito leaving. But, though Kito in his response may seem uncaring, his glancing back at her in panel 4 conveys his heartfelt concern. Throughout this simple scene, Sorata retains the atmosphere of a light-filled hallway and Shuen tugging at Kito, establishing their true relationship. This tale portrays a positively gorgeous fantasy romance with only 50 pages through a veritable litany of visual details.

Review of Rina's Kitchenette: The Food Thingie

Rina’s Kitchenette, an apparently hip up-and-coming restaurant in Lahore, Pakistan, has a simple atmosphere – a counter with a bakery, and then some seats at a table in a cramped space. The upstairs portion of the restaurant features more tables and seats, a logical extension of the downstairs. For only having been open a month, the place was quite packed. Feeling quite famished, I ordered a lemonade, a roast beef sandwich, and a brownie with vanilla ice cream. The first two to hold me off until the third came.

The lemonade was overly saccharine, as if they expected me to want a drowned mountain of sugar. Slow sips, because the taste is both interesting and slightly repulsive. If it was more dilute, the drink would have been enjoyable. Still passable, though. My grumbling stomach then led me to the roast beef sandwich, which was delivered after 10-15 minutes or so. The meat, moist from onion marmalade and other ingredients, practically melted in my mouth, so to speak. Different from other beef sandwiches in that my mouth was not completely dry afterwards. Rather, the lemonade made me thirstier than the sandwich, which could be cause for alarm! The onion made the dish more succulent, by adding a mildly sweet taste and a gentle texture to the beef.

The service was alright – correct meals delivered upstairs to my table, but somewhat slow. The employees, mainly because of a language barrier, could be hard to communicate with, admittedly. Nothing much to say here.

On that note – where’s the brownie? It appeared after maybe 30 minutes, at which point I had thoroughly finished the sandwich and needed something chocolate. Done right, chocolate is exactly what I want. This place is incredibly noisy, especially when you are waiting on a brownie – it’s more of a murder of crows than a cacophony of elephants, though. As a result, coming here with friends is substantially more fun than alone.

Like a true patrician, I will judge this place mainly on its brownies. And the fries, which I stole from my sister, are quite satisfying as well. Mildly salted, and with the right amount of crunch without being too hard. Man, everyone reading this probably worries that I mainly eat junk food.

Now that the brownie has arrived, its smooth appearance was visible to all (but most importantly me) – to invoke some clichéd metaphor, it’s like resting in a grassy field, a tree  blocking out a vivid, burning summer sun. Ice cream, though it is standard, supplemented the brownie by preventing my mouth from becoming an arid dessert. As I get older, that becomes crucial.

Everything I ate at Rina’s Kitchenette, including the French fries I tried out and the desert I tried from my sister’s friend, was quite good. The lemonade, thankfully, was a lackluster exception. I recommend this restaurant, especially if you go with friends (as it is rather noisy). Definitely a highlight of my time in Lahore.

Captain Earth, and the Arc of Humanity: Thematic-Review-Before-Ep-6

Captain Earth concerns itself with the plight of humanity as it finds itself moving away from Earth, long considered its center. One clear focus is on how humanity itself evolves, not simply its technology. In particular, genetics and biochemistry, considered to be stable in an average human, have apparently created great anomalies in certain individuals.

For instance, Hana Mutou, a mysterious brown-skinned girl, is revealed to have an unknown organelle, capable of generating energy that can power mechas, through the use of magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) Mitochondria provide the role of powering cells, but they do are not capable of macroscopic effects – so presumably these unknown organelles are not simply mitochondria. Secondly, conservation of energy dictates that energy is not generated – rather it involves conversion from one form to another.)

Though a novel organelle may seem trivial, this occurrence represents a fundamental change in human biology. Textbooks continually draw attention to the Golgi apparatus, the endoplasmic reticulum, the nucleus, and other such organelles as human organelles – whatever Hana is, she’s not exactly human. Now, this unique organelle is apparently quite beneficial, so Hana represents the evolution of humanity during a dire time – humans become capable of transforming themselves, even without the presence of genetic engineering.

Captain Earth also explores how genetic engineering can lead to evolution in human abilities while also presenting consequences. The following episode, episode five, it is revealed that Teppei, a silver-haired boy with no knowledge of his family, was created through designer genes. (Though techniques such as in vitro fertilization exist, the show is likely referring to splicing genes together using plasmid technology.) Though he appears normal, he has the ability to portray brilliant rainbows above his hands, isolating him from other people. Since birth, he has been forcibly separated from others, which has made him pessimistic.

Beyond that, the show looks at how a genetically engineered being fits into a social concept such as “family”. In the spaceship Tenkaido, Teppei meets his “father” Eiji Arashi, who provided the male genetic material. However, generally speaking, a father is someone present throughout one’s life – a figure of social importance, not simply the provider of genetic material. Thus, Eiji is not necessarily his father.

Though it has been years, Eiji recognizes Teppei readily – he refers to himself as Teppei’s father, suggesting that their relationship is beyond mere genetics. However, Teppei has grown accustomed to his lack of a true family, and he rejects Eiji’s conclusion. In response, Eiji tenderly holds Teppei and explains his regrets over not being enough of a father for him. After a battle breaks out, Eiji plays decoy to draw enemy fire, allowing Teppei and his comrade Akari to escape. Afterwards, Akari comments that Eiji looked at Teppei with a loving expression like a father, which draws him comfort. Finally, Teppei has found the family he has craved for so long, even though it was for a short amount of time. And, despite not being natural, he is given humanity through this arc with his father.

But, if genetically engineered beings are capable of such complex emotions, they cannot be seen as tools – nor should humans be so easily constructed through this manner. With the advent of technologies such as CRISPR/Cas9, zinc fingers, transcription activator-like effectors (TALEs), and meganucleases, such genetic engineering is easier than ever. This leads to a few questions. What rules should govern genetic engineering? Does genetic engineering stop someone like Teppei from feeling a relationship to his gene donor? Or are the two things separate and neutral to each other? If Captain Earth does not know or will not ponder it, then hopefully the future will provide some answers.