I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.
Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.
Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.
Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.
I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.
He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).
First, we get this:
Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.
They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.
It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.
We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.
What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?
He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.
In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.
Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!
...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.
Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.
And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.
I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.
And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.
Meals are the privilege of the living.
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Elvish art genre that definitely exists in Middle-Earth: the captivity of Elrond and Elros (mostly just Elrond, especially after Elros dies)
The paintings– done mostly, but not always, by Sindarin and anti-Feanorian Noldor artists– are usually studies in contrast– Elrond as the bright, innocent child dressed in white; often portrayed as a small, frightened elfling, frozen at the moment he was taken from Sirion. Sometimes he is shown bravely resisting the cruelty of the Feanorians, other times he mourns for Sirion, or bows and prays to the gods for deliverance. Sometimes, he's given wings, both to stress his connection with Luthien and Elwing and to make him look more angelic and pure in comparison to the fallen Feanorians.
Maedhros and Maglor are the dark monsters the oath made them, with teeth, and claws, and harsh armor. Some of the more daring artists just portray Maedhros as an actual orc. While few of the paintings actually show the Feanorians' crimes, they're often portrayed with blood on their hands or swords, or simply surrounded by fire and destruction. They often demand, or threaten in the pictures, towering over Elrond and casting long shadows on him.
There's a few different sub-genres of these paintings. The ones that explicitly compare Elrond's situation to Luthien's kidnapping by Celegorm. The ones that feature a grateful Elrond being saved from the horrible Feanorians by whoever the artist is looking to valorize– Gil-Galad, Galadriel, Oropher, Eonwe, etc. The ones that show Elrond, locked in a dark cell, staring longingly out at Gil-Estel rising in the night sky. Some of the strangest are the ones that draw connections between the Silmarils being kept in Morgoth's crown and the twins– often with Maedhros playing the role of Morgoth.
Elrond hates almost all of these paintings. He feels like they take away his ability to define his past the way he wants to– to tell his own story. Most of them are grossly inaccurate, but most people don't know that, and dredging up all those really painful memories to try and correct people's assumption is hard. Sometimes, even when he does, people won't listen. Some of the paintings also seem... weirdly gleeful about the idea that Elrond suffered because of the Feanorians? Like they're trying to martyr him even though he's alive, and doesn't want to be martyred. It all makes him really, really uncomfortable.
There is one exception. It's not a very traditional example of captivity paintings. Elrond is at the center of the frame, shown not as a small child but as a young adult. Maglor and Maedhros are mostly unseen in the background, each with a bloody hand on one of Elrond's shoulders. Unlike the other paintings, instead of looking off into the distance or staring demurely at the ground, Elrond is looking straight out at the viewer His expression is hard to place. Anger? Acceptance? Defiance? Pity? Accusation? It's a very odd picture that unsettles almost everyone that look at it.
Elrond insists on hanging it in Rivendell.
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This is one of my favorite minor details in Dungeon Meshi, firstly because what in the femme fatale, but also because it's one of those little things that raises so many questions about worldbuilding.
The Occam's Razor defense attorney in me says that Ryoko Kui gave Kabru a boot knife because she wanted him to escape from his bonds here. And Kabru is a very competent swordsman, why wouldn't he have a boot knife, sure. He's already got a dagger, he can have this too.
And yet: the implications. Kabru, why do you have that? That is not remotely something that could be easily accessed or used in combat. Nobody is pulling out a pen knife from the heel of their boot during a fight with a monster. It's useless in the dungeon ... unless you're the type of person who isn't just worried about monsters.
I've mentioned this before, but I consider one of Kabru's functions in the narrative as being the character who fully brings the idea of human ecosystems into the story. There's a reason why he's always connected to large groups of people (Toshiro's party, the Canaries). He (along with Mr. Tansu, briefly) introduces the reader to the social and political forces working on the dungeon, showing us that none of this is happening in a monster-filled vacuum. His confrontation with the corpse retrievers, who very nearly kill Kabru's party permanently with their reckless murder-for-money scheme, reminds us that monsters are not the only things that prey on humans. Kabru understands the ways the dungeon causes people to put profit over human lives.
We only get hints of it in the story, but like any gold-rush-style economic boom, it's implied that there is a lot of crime and corruption surrounding the dungeon.
So yeah, it really makes me wonder why Kabru keeps a tiny knife in his boot, meant to be carried on him even in situations where he would otherwise be unarmed. Stored exactly in the place where it's easy to reach, even if, for some reason, your hands are tied behind your back.
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