#also how it gets compared with utena and the likes

[unavailable-fan]

I love how discussions around bucchigiri?! went from "hm, the style looks cool" to "oh, it's kinda too silly" to "why this protagonist is so bad" to dozens of interpretations and attempts to explain what this show is probably trying or not trying to say bonus points if there's a "i hate this show" post followed by several posts with theories on why the events happen the way they do by the same author it's very entertaining

[tyrantisterror]

I've seen Utena and Evangelion get compared to each other for both being 1. dark coming of age stories that get increasingly surreal as time goes on and 2. supposedly deconstructing their respective genres. And I think there's a good basis for comparison in there, definitely, and they've both become anime I've made a point to revisit because they struck a very strong chord with me.

I think what gets me when comparing them, though, is that Utena gets to do what Evangelion sets up but never managed to finish - and some people inexplicably criticize Utena for it?

Cause Evangelion was clearly meant to be a longer series. They establish early on that there are eight Evas and eight teenage pilots for them. In the series itself we see four - well, five, technically, since an angel posing as a human named Kaworu tricks everyone into letting him pilot an eva, but still. There three side character teenagers introduced early, one of which pilots an eva (to disastrous results) while the other two remain supporting cast. It's possible they were intended to eventually be eva pilots too, but it's also possible the mystery pilots might have been foreignors like Asuka.

Either way, it's clear the story was meant to become bigger, but because of various behind the scenes reasons it didn't - it ultimately remains focused primarily on Shinji, Gendo (the true antagonist), Asuka, Rei, and to a lesser extent, Misato. And don't get me wrong, that still makes for an incredibly engaging show - I wouldn't trade any of the episodes and scenes focused on those cast members for the world, the depth to which those characters are explored is a huge part of what makes the series meaningful for me.

But Utena, while being a similarly character-focused series, does get to expand its scope in the way Evangelion set up but never paid off. The cast of Utena does get larger, and while the focus remains primarily on Utena, Anthy, the true antagonist Dio, and to a lesser extent Touga and Nanami, it finds time to shine the spotlight on a very rich supporting cast of characters. The Black Rose arc in particular is great for this, because it gives the supporting cast members introduced in the first arc - Juri, Miki, Nanami, garbage boy Saionji, and Wakaba - their own arcs and, in many cases, their own relationships with characters outside of Utena and Anthy's direct orbit. The lives and relationships of all these characters become really rich and interesting, with their own quirks and problems to overcome.

And, like, I've seen some people say this is a flaw - that these are "filler" episodes, that you can skip the Black Rose arc entirely, and it's baffling to me. The way all of these characters interplay with each other, how their struggles and arcs mirror and complement each other, is what makes the world and story of Utena so rich. It's still about Utena and Anthy in the end, but Utena and Anthy's arc is also made so much more meaningful by how it reflects the arcs of everyone around them - that ultimately all these characters are sharing facets of the same struggle, and if there's hope for Utena and Anthy at the end (and there is, especially in the movie), then there's hope for all these characters and, indeed, everyone in the audience who sympathized with them.

One thing that'll plague my imagination till the end of my days is the concept of what Evangelion would be if it could have broadened its scope the way they originally planned, and the way Utena broadens the scope of its narrative only fuels that wonder more. I'd kill to see Evangelion's Black Rose arc, and I'm so glad Utena got to have its world grow.

[transmascutena]

something i find a little bit funny but mostly just really tragic is that utena is fully convinced she's in a found family show for so much of it. and in the most fucked up way imaginable she's kind of right? we all know what being akio's family means.

i do think she sees akio as an older brother figure for a lot of the show, much more so than she ever has genuine romantic feelings for him. this is clearest to me in the black rose arc, where all he is to her is her best friend's older brother who gives her advice and respects her more than any other adult ever does. it makes sense that she'd want to see herself as a part of their family too. there's nothing to imply that her feelings are at all romantic in nature. it's only when he starts getting closer to her and intiating physical contact that she starts blushing around him and might be developing a crush -- although personally, i read it more as confused uncomfortable embarrassment most of the time, combined with the expectation that romance is what she should want, and so that must be what she's feeling, right? (this gets kind of naively reenforced by wakaba telling her how cool and handsome akio is and how lucky utena is to be close to him.)

and i don't think it's a coincidence that akio starts calling utena "part of the family" after he's planted this idea of romance in her. reenforcing her previous feelings towards him only after he has started to make them change into something different. he is deliberately trying to cofuse her idea of a familial/sibling relationship with that of a romantic/sexual one, because to him there really isn't a difference, and so that when she inevitably learns about him and anthy, utena will see her not as a fellow victim to find solidarity in, but as competition for his affection. and it works, at least at first.

all this is why i vehemently disagree when people call utena stupid for not noticing that something is wrong about anthy and akio's relationship while she's living with them. not only is it deliberately being hidden from her by both of them for a long time, she also literally has no idea what a sibling relationship is supposed to look like. she has no healthy example to compare anything to. even if she did notice something off about how anthy and akio interact, why would she assume she knows better than them how to be a family? she doesn't have one, after all. and when akio tells her that she is his family, he very much does not treat her like it, but she doesn't really have much choice in believing that it's normal, because isn't that how he treats anthy as well?

[bonni]

I've talked before about how I think hisoka's reputation as a "well-written villain" is undeserved and I still stand by that for reasons I'll get into at the end of this post. but I think the most frustrating thing about hisoka as a character is that I understand where that reputation comes from, because sometimes his character really works and thinking about what he could have been compared to what he is is infuriating.

hxh is, at its core, a shounen deconstruction, and one of its major themes is how the blind ambition of hunters is damaging on both an individual and interpersonal level. this is specifically reflected in gon, who's ambition and stubbornness hurts himself and the people around him (this post isn't about kurapika but obviously he is a prime example of this as well and the two have major character parallels). both ging and hisoka act as foils to gon, harboring the same blind ambition as he does but in increasingly twisted ways, with ging becoming so easily bored he can't treat a single human being with basic respect, and hisoka literally fetishizing ambition itself; gon, as a child, also finds himself facing abuse and assault at the hands of both of them, and they both use their twisted world view as a justification, with ging neglecting him for his entire life, grooming other vulnerable people in the process, and instructing them to hurt gon, and hisoka literally molesting him.

people sometimes get offended when you talk about the similarities between gon and hisoka, because yeah it feels kind of icky to compare a 12-year-old kid to the adult pedophile who's assaulting him. but the parallels exist for a reason, and that reason isn't to say that gon's going to turn out like this guy, it's to illustrate that hisoka's path is one potential outcome to prioritizing your own ambition over the lives of others. hisoka doesn't have a single relationship that isn't grounded in his own selfish worldview, and neither does ging. these are the people that gon admires and wants to surpass.

gon finally landing a punch on hisoka is an awesome moment, but in retrospect, it's upsetting. it reminds me of utena's duel against mikage; instead of confronting the ways in which they're unhealthily similar to their opponents and maybe doing some soul-searching, our protagonists celebrate the progress they've made towards their own destruction. gon's march towards a self-inflicted doom is a slow and steady one, and the chimera ant arc is the climax. gon can't be a great hunter like ging or hisoka. he cares too much about other people, and it destroys him.

so, yeah. as a foil to gon and as a source of commentary on the way a traditional shounen world encourages child abuse (not unlike our own world, hm?) hisoka is actually a good villain. the problem is, he isn't written consistently. togashi seems to like him too much and is fixated on making him some sort of anti-hero, which completely detracts from his supposed role as a villain! and, elephant in the room, he's still a homophobic stereotype. if you're going to write a predator, don't make him effeminate, and also include gay characters in your work who aren't predators (I do believe killua is intentionally gay coded but let's be honest, it's not enough). and when we look at the way gon's history of grooming and characters like palm are handled, it just becomes increasingly obvious that togashi doesn't really care about making any commentary about csa in a respectful or appropriate way. at best, it's there for shock value, and at worst, it's literally a joke. I will never respect the way that hisoka's character is handled in the series, but I do understand his appeal as a villain, and I really do wish he was written in a more respectful and consistent way.

[lapizinvertido694]

I do not know how to say this without sounding like a pervert, so im not even gonna try.

But I'm disappointed by Utena fight vs Lord Enorme i read the manga and i expected like the whole punishment for lord to be louder like the spanks sounded very soft and the fact that they where fast made them feel less impactful.

Also they added a bit of blood in the anime finally but yeah its pretty tame compared to the manga if im being honert i would take the manga blood and characters being wounded over the uncensored breast any day of the week, since the caracters not getting really hurt makes the action looks silly

Anyway critics aside i fucking love the anime and Kiwi an Utena transformations are kino

Now i want the beach episode and the hotel scene

[yiga-hellhole]

TFTK CHAPTER 19: TWILIGHT KING'S REVERIE

there's some real utena type shit happening here i think (special thanks to @orfeoarte for the lettering and also the beta reading!!)

CHAPTER 19 IS DOOONE thank you all for your patience. this time we're diving into the depths of zant's mind again. what's he thinking about so soon before (what may be) his final battle? well, read and find out!

AAAAGGHH I'm sooooo excited to drop this chapter!! I've been looking forward to writing it ever since i started making this fic into a full-length, multi-chapter story!! i really hope you'll enjoy it. thanks again to @bulgariansumo and orfeoarte for giving it the once-over!

CW this chapter: Suicidal ideation, self harm, graphic violence. once again past the three asterisk *** mark the chapter gets erotic undertones, but with high plot relevance, i hope you'll give it a look either way!

ao3 mirror

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

“If there is anything you desire, then I shall desire it, too.”

So spoke the colossal face before him. Zant stood there, frozen in a gaping stare as this massive, golden specter hovered before him. He had run to this balcony to shout his woes to the skies, losing himself in flagellant grief, in the fragile hope enough beatings would keep his anguish at bay. Perhaps if he cried out long enough, something would answer. Either something that would, by some miracle, save him from his predicament…

Or, more likely, grant him the willpower to fling himself off the balusters.

Yet, when he raised his face, the dreary ombre skies were nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a swirling, black orb blotting out the clouds, droning deeply to chatter his teeth in their sockets. It swallowed him whole.

After bidding him that promise, the sea around him shifted. From its depths, a shadowy hand surfaced to part the waves. It reached out to him, claw outstretched. Large, sharp enough to impale him with a single prod, yet Zant felt not a scrap of fear. He knew all it would do was fulfill its words. The tip of its finger touched his forehead. Souls touched, one so, so grand, dwarfing his, and chained together. Through this tether, a bolt of power crossed, and shook him to his core.

It was euphoric, a pure, blinding bliss as this being of pure magic entered him. He was his savior, his guardian angel, watching over him in his darkest moment and deciding He would help. With every breath, foggy ambrosia filled his lungs and leached into his veins. It clouded his thoughts, dulled his every sense, and smothered it all with a warm, tingling numbness. He had never felt more full, yet emptier all the same. His every nerve coiled in on itself – had he any breath to utter it, this ecstasy would have unlodged a whimper, to echo into this space of all spaces. Whatever being he had just communed with, it was in him and snaked its way into his every inch. One finger twitched, then another, until his hand moved on its own. With tenderness he didn’t know rested within his flesh, his thumb stroked past his, their, cheek, and rid it of its tears.

In this single second, he felt more divinity than he’d ever had, in all his years praying to his lesser gods in the palatial temple. How he wandered the wastelands clutching and clacking beads in search of a solution to their plights. What he worshiped then were mere vestiges compared to this all-encompassing force, little pieces of holiness his forebears dragged with them in tatters when they were condemned to this dying world. That world that had gurgled its last breath in its septic lungs before they’d even entered it, and hacked and coughed it out as they made their home there. 

This Being – Ganon – laughed within him, His manic glee spreading through him like a rot. There was no doubt about it; true, pitch-dark malevolence had made him its host, a being of pure vengeance that tangled with his own as if by fated embrace. But even as his mind darkened, a faint glimmer shone, kindled there by his own hand.

Hope.

More hope than he had ever felt in his life. This was no mere ancestral spirit. Far more, even, than a curse. This was a God. 

Just as he adjusted to this new force, convulsing and embracing himself, true darkness shrouded him again. When the haze cleared, he did not find himself on the balcony. Instead, he was hovering in the air, looking down at a most familiar scene. There stood Ganondorf, heaving in pain against the Master Sword lodged in his chest, facing two beings of Light that antsily waited for him to die. Zant knew they needn’t wait much longer.

Zant blinked, tilting his head curiously. The man below him winced, but did not perish. Watching the dreadful stillness at his feet, he spoke. “Why did you bring me here again? Are you truly so fond of dying?”

He spoke off-script. The illusion broke, the curtains of their stage torn, not drawn. Ganondorf growled, gazing at his clenched fist that bore a faintly glowing mark, until it did not. “This is the moment I first wished to seize my power back from you. This time I will not fail.”

Zant smiled as he watched his flesh-made God raise his hand toward him. “Once, I may have said you would have to wrench it from my cold, dead hands, but even then, you did not manage it. It is time that you learn, Demon King, that this power is mine and mine alone. As is this vessel. And they shall forever be!”

The illusion broke when he descended, landing before the towering man and grasping the grip of the burrowed sword in his hand. A wet giggle escaped him as he tested the blade, watching as it dug deeper into the gaping wound in Ganondorf’s chest. Ganondorf growled, cutting his laughter short with a fist clenching around his throat, but only enabling his amusement. Such violence begged for retaliation! Both hands wrapped eagerly around the grip and pushed. The master sword sunk deeper into Ganondorf effortlessly, earning him a wheeze of pain, and a once-king before him on his knees.

Zant kicked him over, straddling his chest with the sword before him. His fingers trailed up the blade — just as sharp as he’d remembered it, slicing through his fingertips and blending their streaks of blood. Just that little bit of unity could be indulged, he supposed. 

“No wonder the Ganondorf who torments me now remembers me so little. The piece of him that knew of my vengeance has rested right here, with me, all this time,” he giggled, sentimentally holding a hand over his chest. “And now, here you are. Does it vex you?”

He could only laugh at the burning hatred that glared up at him. Hands grasped over his, attempting to pull the sword out that he so playfully kept pinned down into him. The grip would break his fingers awfully soon, but Zant didn’t care. He had to make this perfectly clear. 

“You have passed your torch, old man, and will walk the living world no longer. The only one to control this body now, is me!”

Zant wrenched himself free and grinned toothily as Ganondorf frantically pulled at a sword that would not move. Odd-angled fingers ignored, he grasped his head in both hands, cackling in pleasure and pain, and twisted.

A dream… A memory? Oh, only if it were.

He awoke in a bed that was not his own, but at this point, it may as well have been. Still sheltered from the sun, he lay buried under the covers, with merely the crown of his head poking past the cloudy white, duck-feather comforter. So dreadfully cold it was in the North this time of year… And how warm he lay here now, with steel knees tucked against his bottom and an arm draped lazily around his chest. The dark beneath the blankets kept him in that fluffy, hardly-woken daze, leading him to think with instincts first, and rationality second. He grasped the hand that laid across his stomach, and with his eyelids fluttering back shut, ran the pads of his fingertips along his beloved’s. No longer as cool as they were during the day… Ghirahim’s skin always warmed, bit by bit, whenever he’d join him for a night, only growing their old frigid when pursuing some pastime or other while Zant lay sleeping.

His thumb quested further, stroking across his glossy nails, before finding the tops of his fingers. Each was diligently inspected, rubbing from knuckle to knuckle. He could visualize those hands behind his eyelids just from touch, by now. How delicate and elegant they were, not a callus in sight, even if he bore the brunt of much labor, and tore through so many in bloodshed. He could drift away again like this, lacing their fingers together, and inching back to nestle closer to him. How much time until dawn, he wondered? 

Lips that pressed into his shoulder shook him into a wide-eyed stare, his cheeks growing hot. His private little moment of affectionate touches was not so private after all… Not when he remembered Ghirahim did not sleep and was perfectly aware of his fiddling. 

Ghirahim hummed, voice hushed as he spoke. “Another nightmare?”

A tight, joint-popping stretch of his spine and legs forced a groan from him, settling him back in his arms soon after. “Oh, not at all. I found myself in the loveliest dream,” Zant yawned.

Ghirahim huffed behind him, unconvinced. “You’re certain? You sounded tormented.”

His hand laid over his, Zant peered over his shoulder, smiling contentedly. “How could anything come to haunt me, when I am protected like this?”

This answer pleased him. “Come to me, my lover,” Ghirahim purred, tugging him closer into his embrace. His fingers now pressed firmly into the supple skin of his stomach – surely, how fiercely such a term flushed him did not pass his notice, clearly felt in the arteries of his gut. “Haha! You asked me to call you such, and now, you fluster?”

A whine escaped him, prompting him to burrow further into his pillow. “To hear it fills me with such glee, Ghirahim-ili. I cannot help it.”

Yet his escape did not prove fruitful. Wherever he hid himself, the heat at his back pulled him back into their intimate contact. Zant was captivated, then, by how warm his core felt, how each churn of energy sent a buzz up his spine that made his face heat up all the brighter. Ghirahim seemed not aware of this, but that enigmatic gem, his heart, his brain, his soul, it made a sound. Like a knife being sharpened, dragged against whetstone as a bow and violin – a crystalline hum. Zant needed only to listen to gauge his mood these days… That is, if the demon could stop being so enamored with the sound of his own voice, to let him hear that telltale song. 

Through his musings, Ghirahim held him, cheekily grasping at his breast in the hope of evoking a laugh in them both. Hands that wished to hold, that wished to be held, made part of something greater than himself. 

Were he to linger in them any longer, he was sure to never rise. How lovely, how adored! His heart fluttered to and fro like a songbird caught in a cage, and his body reacted all the same. Besieged by a fit of giggles, Zant kicked his feet and wrestled his way out of his embrace. Once he sprung free from that iron grip, he launched himself across the bed, stanced on all fours as if Ghirahim might pounce him any moment. If his heartbeat, sending the blood racing through his ears, was to be believed, he would. 

For a moment too bewildered to speak, Ghirahim stared at the grinning creature across him. He grit his teeth in a smirk of his own, before hunching down to prowl towards him. Zant darted from his advance, leaving the sword spirit to thud face-first into the sheets behind him. Sanding down his skills for the fun of it, surely! Else he would have caught him!

Ghirahim huffed, meeting his panting and snickering with a pout. “How juvenile. Pray tell, how old are you again?”

He clawed himself forward twice in a crawl, again playfully scurrying away, until the question prompted him to think. How long since their advance..? What day did he die? 8496 turns of the Twilit Hourglass, three-hundred-sixty-five turns of the Sun in this odd world. Side-by-side, how many days apart, would be… 

Zant blinked in their little stand-still, pulling free from his absent gaze. “Ah. Twenty-nine, as of two weeks ago.”

A quizzical expression crossed Ghirahim’s face. Did such a number mean anything to him, he wondered? Would he think him young or old? But he had little time to pick apart what he might be thinking. For soon Ghirahim grew bored of internal queries, and was upon him in a flash, tumbling the both of them back into the pillows. 

After the protesting squeaks were over with, Zant relented. Now happy to be huddled up with him again, Ghirahim questioned him. “Is the passing of another year not typically celebrated among Twili?”

Zant groaned in thought, squinting his eyes shut. Idle hands drummed on the back splayed across him. “It is, but what a pointless affair it would be. Who would I celebrate it with?”

“What about me,” Ghirahim cooed, prodding a finger at his hostage’s cheek.

“Tracing the days back, I’m sure on the day itself you were once again in my quarters, sharing my company. This, I am plenty content with.”

Such an explanation seemingly bored the Sword Spirit to no end, with how it made him sigh and sink further into the blankets. Zant supposed he was always more of the lavish type, and would not be sated by an answer so sappy and mundane. Perhaps he could think of a gift of sorts to neg him for, but for now…

“We have lingered enough. I would much prefer to dress myself before the sun rises any further. After all, Master needs us to accompany him to the desert sooner than later,” he sighed, nudging at the heavy form atop him to hopefully shake him into action a bit. Zant was perturbed by the gaze that caught onto his. For once, Ghirahim was called to duty and met it with reluctance.

Their arrival at Gerudo Desert was one of eerie calm. Ganondorf awaited them by the gates, watching bemusedly how his chamberlains fussed over the supplies necessary for what would only be a short stay. In warping together, they would have to combine their powers. One hand for each lieutenant, he reached out for them to accept in open palms. A rustle, a chime, a blaring hum – all overlapped in a striking chord. In an instant, the Temple was out of sight.

Zant reflexively wheezed when the new scenery came upon him. Oppressive heat, smothering him from all sides. The dark shelter of his helmet only offered some respite from the dry, sweltering air that crept in through his visor slots. How he cursed the possibilities of an ambush, forbidding him from dressing lightly! 

Permitted by Ganondorf’s advance, the pair of lieutenants turned, watching the Gerudo traverse the sands that led to the city gates mere paces away. To once again be in the desert, watching him march to his goal in this sea of gold, evoked a memory of not long ago. But when the world around him looked far, far different.

—

Weightlessly he hovered in this void expanse, knowing not how long, remembering not how to even care for such a thing. Beckoning again beyond the veil, stirring him from the deepest of slumbers, a shimmer of gold plucked at the strings of his soul. The Sorceress again? It couldn’t be. This was its own power, dark and primordial, of which a mere echo once lingered within Cia. He recognized it, he…

The golden light raced past him now, enveloped him like curtains had been drawn. With a ragged gasp, dry, warm air filled his lungs once more. The tips of his fingers, his ears, his cheeks, all felt red hot with the newly returned sensation of pumping blood. He was alive again. 

Before him, there he stood, fulfilling his promise of centuries past. 

Ganondorf, King of Thieves, King of Demons. 

Yet, this was a different man. The thrum of past power confirmed it. Somewhere, the beaten and defeated fury of an older Ganondorf still weakly snarled from the very void he was just ripped from. A realization struck them both at the same time, causing one to smile, and the other to recoil. Where his supposed God had failed to revive him, his descendant did so without persuasion. 

Whether from his weakened legs, or the force before him commanding it so, he fell forward into a kneel. Ganondorf approached but Zant could not muster the strength to raise his head and witness more than his boots. He felt his fingers shake in their sleeves. With the shouting in his mind, he couldn’t possibly bear to look at both of them at once.

“Shadow Lord Zant, Demon Lord Ghirahim. I have released you from the bounds the Sorceress has placed upon you, and with it, freed you from your imprisonment. From this moment forth, you will follow my every command. Your life is in my hands as the Demon King, and I will snuff it out when I see fit.”

Ganondorf paused, scanning the pair before him with burning eyes. This descendant was forceful. He did not arrive with bribes and promises, he demanded subordination within seconds. 

Seemingly satisfied with the lack of protest thus far, he continued. “The Triforce of Power was stolen from me by the Sorceress’ former half. I enlist your military prowess to assist me in this campaign to seize it.”

Something was missing… Zant realized it, as did the man clawing at the back of his eyes. Only then did the Twili dare lift his face some, to study for an additional spark of austerity, or some telling that he was to be beaten more thoroughly into submission. 

Nothing. There was none at all. Ganondorf glared them both down equally.

How very interesting… This Ganondorf remembered him in name and power only, but not the feud that tied him and his predecessor together for all eternity. Did the shock of death rid him of the memory of his betrayal? Such ignorance could only work to his advantage. If this reborn Demon King needed a servant, he could certainly play the part. What did he have to lose? Arisen anew, he couldn’t let this opportunity to have Hyrule at his feet slip through his fingers again. This third chance could be his last.

The man beside him was clearly much less amicable to the idea. Ghirahim, as he was introduced, had not moved a muscle since surfacing from the gate beside him, his features tightened into a scowl. Zant looked on curiously as the pristine white being burst into laughter.

“Perhaps Cia will be desperate enough to beg for your alliance, but I will not. How low the Sorceress has sunken!”

A peculiar energy buzzed forth from this man, lashing out angrily as his hair bristled and his fists clenched. “You dare to bear the title of Demon King? You are but a mere human! In what realm do demons bow to mortal men!?”

Hands threw up in the air, massive pupils narrowed to slits and his teeth bared in aggression. Certainly an animated character. “It is an insult… A disgrace to my Master! I’ll have your head for such a transgression!”

With a snap of his fingers, a rapier was summoned in the Demon’s hand, but before his fingers could fully curl around its grip, Ganondorf burst toward him like lightning. A swift strike of his fist sent Ghirahim tumbling, skidding through the dust. He came to a halt by the Demon King’s hand, who had gripped his throat with golden-clawed fingers. Sword lost in the dust a few feet away, Ghirahim was powerless against the mighty hand of the Master slamming him into the ground. A choked groan rang from his throat with each impact, his struggles in vain. He was pounded once more into the sand, and Ganondorf held him pinned there, leaning over him with a growl. Ghirahim kicked his legs in a show of defiance, until suddenly, he went still. Even beyond the kicked-up dust, Zant could see it. From his left hand, a faint golden glow shone through his gauntlet – empty but waiting, matching the deep black aura that wafted from him like licking flames. 

“I have no use for a peon that will not obey me,” Ganondorf snarled, pulling Ghirahim closer to his face before dropping him to the ground. “I will not warn you again, Blade.”

Zant followed him with his gaze as Ganondorf marched back to his former place. Their eyes met briefly, gold stumbling upon gold, and in an instant, that familiar scowl drilled into his consciousness. The same man, but not quite… Yes, with such a display of power, he’d decided. It was in his best interests to have this Ganondorf trust him. And so, he smiled at him in return, bowing his head in respect of his Master. Ganondorf grunted and continued his march, setting out for the tents that stood in the shade at the edge of the desert. 

“My home has been ravaged by vermin in my absence, and I intend to reclaim it. I expect you to join me in my tent for reconnaissance. Should you refuse, I will not hesitate to crush you along with the rest of the intruders.”

After nodding affirmatively, Zant turned again to where his fellow to-be commander was left, and found him sat up, panting and clutching his chest. He stared out in front of him but his mind was someplace else. Curiously, he approached him, cocking his head. He could only guess that Ghirahim had a similar revelation to himself, but was taking it far less in stride. 

Tentatively, he held out his hand, offering to help him rise. Someone ought to snap him out of it. “You recognized it too, didn’t you? That power.”

Ghirahim blinked, a haze clearing from his deep, large pupils. Before fully meeting his eyes, he had already swatted his offered hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

Zant straightened himself, towering above the man sitting before him, and retracted his hand to clasp them behind his back. 

A squint locked Ghirahim in eye contact almost too easily, and somewhat nervously, he stammered again to speak. “I did, but… How..?”

Zant broke the trap of his gaze and looked toward the tent, where Ganondorf had just disappeared into. “The very same curse that brought the Princess and her guard dog back for another round, I assume.”

Ghirahim rose to his feet, joining Zant in staring at the tent. He didn’t speak, still, just glared in deep conflict at the sight before him. It was almost pitiful.

And so, Zant decided to take off and kick his plans into motion. “You can do as you wish, but I am hesitant to make an enemy out of the Demon King. I suppose I will meet you on the battlefield, one way or another.”

Quite a few paces he walked alone, his helmet reassembling itself to spare him from the burning rays of the sun. Now thoroughly concealed, he felt safe grinning when footsteps joined behind him, slowly but surely.

“Zant? What’s keeping you?”

In just that split second, the sword spirit seemed to turn into an entirely different being. The Ghirahim he knew then was all points and edges, eager to drive his endless wit under his skin until he had no choice but to bite back at him. And while this urge to annoy him never left him, he was different, now. There was an undeniable softness to him. Words that once would have left his lips in a sneer now warmly lingered with genuine concern, sweetly sticking to his tongue like honey. 

It was a testament to how blades were not merely used to destroy, but also to mend, to cure. Bit by bit, he’d taught a sword how to care.

When Zant smiled at him in return, picking up after him in a rush, the desert sun sparkled in his deep black pupils. Zant joined his side soon after, relishing how his attention did not leave him even once. 

“The heat must have gotten to my head for a moment there,” he hummed. “We’ve come all the way from the North, after all.”

Counting on being out of earshot of their Master, Ghirahim chuckled, jabbing at the Twili with his elbow. “You can survive martial combat, but the climate gets the better of you? It’s embarrassing to wear your weaknesses on your sleeve like this, Zant.”

Zant scoffed. “Ah, yes. As opposed to wearing them with a target on your chest, of course.”

Were they subtle in their dawdling at any point, Ganondorf surely noticed his servants bickering behind him from that point on. With only a brief pause in his gait, he marched to the Palace. The Demon King was off to settle his final arrangements before bidding his most loyal men farewell, for good.

The evening of Ganondorf’s arrival was as celebratory as it was solemn. The governesses were as pleased to see their King in his full power as they took his arrival as an omen. The final stand was at hand, and the strategy briefing of mere hours earlier conveyed that Gerudo Valley would not come out of this battle unscathed. Any bit of leisure and merrymaking was precious, and as such, the wizened Court was masking themselves with as much cheer as they could muster. Ghirahim and Zant, seated at the end of the table reserved for those of higher military ranking, overlooked the governesses squabbling over opportunities to converse with the man who would change their lives for good. In between filling their cups and chattering amongst one another, on occasion, one of the women would rise, and approach Ganondorf’s seat to give him their blessings. To which the King, of course, took to with great warmth and integrity.

Among them was a woman with an empty stare, who gradually darkened and secluded in her own mind as the night went on. Zant recognized her as the head of foreign trade, who left an impression on him as a boisterous, steadfast woman. None of her usual sparks could be seen as she stood up from her seat and approached Ganondorf, who was caught in conversation with the governess beside him. 

“With the Seven to guide me, this ends today.”

Candlelight reflected off a polished surface not there seconds earlier. Taking shelter behind the backrest of Ganondorf’s chair, the Courtswoman pulled a dagger from her robes and thrust it toward the Demon King. 

It was a mess of bodies. Those who cowered in fear, and those who threw themselves at the assailant to wrestle her off of their King. Among the latter were even elderly women of the Court, whose feeble arms tore like paper under the meticulously sharpened dagger, the King’s retainers, and of course, his very own Ghirahim, who bolted toward her the second he smelled steel.

But before an obsidian blade could run her through, Ganondorf himself clenched his massive hand around the Chancellor’s arm. With a sweep, he flung her over the table, sending her skidding across the floor and into the hall’s central corridor. A streak of blood followed her, the ominous sign of falling upon her own blade. Groaning and heaving, but still fueled by rage, she rose in spite of her injuries. Blade in hand, her fierce drive to kill had not yet ceased.

The commotion all around the mess hall soon tested her resolve. As if melting into a single being, the shrieks and cries of enraged troops dawned upon her like a tidal wave, claws and calloused palms reaching for her in a mob’s desire for violence. 

“Halt,” shouted Ganondorf’s thunderous voice, sharp enough to crack air as if it were a thin sheet of glass. He raised a hand, forcing every single being in that hall to freeze on the spot. “None may approach her. We will hold Chancellor Meherat’s trial right here, and now.”

Those who were injured in the scuffle were promptly escorted from the hall, and a deathly silence befell what was once an infernal atmosphere. Though Ganondorf had forbidden anyone from nearing the accused, there was a shuffled footfall in the servants’ entrance, leading to the courtyard… The preparations for her execution were already underway. 

And what a foolish act it was! With the Triforce under his command, no mortal blade could truly harm Ganondorf. No, not even Zant dared dream of such a hands-on approach, now. The consequences of such a fit of passion were unfolding before him, a lesson of their own.

Those left in the mess hall arranged themselves in cold, courtly fashion. The commanding and governing forces seated in their makeshift magistrate, and the crowd of soldiers, their jury. Ganondorf leered, his eyes scanning the room to command its silence. Gazing at the center of it all, the trial commenced. 

An odd tone of pity stained his rigid voice with mockery. “Now, speak. What has clouded your judgment, Chancellor? Only pure madness could drive a woman of your stature to defy her King.”

“The only madness in this room lies within your own Court, Ganondorf,” the Chancellor snapped, resulting in a scandalized, furious heckling from the crowd behind her. She paid it no mind. “All our people wanted was peace – dignity! And you have befouled the noble name of the Gerudo by aligning yourself with demons. Monsters! Your actions are beyond the retaliation for which we rallied behind you. They are annihilation! There is no salvation in the death you rain upon Hyrule. What use is there to be found in a land we cannot thrive in? Every single one of you is blinded by vengeance! I will stand for it no longer.”

Ganondorf straightened in his seat, solemn, yet unimpressed. His countenance was calm, but the racket from the crowd surely could only stem from their King’s inner rage. “Then I take it there were no conspirators?”

“None that had to persuade me, Demon. My sisters are innocent. But mark my words – With every settlement you scorch, every monster you set free on your homeland, our people’s trust in you wanes. The streets of Gerudo City are ripe with whispers of your cruelty. There will be more like me! If I must die to set this example, then I shall face the Heroines with a smile!”

Meherat was manic, burning with conviction, even as the loss of blood rid her of the strength in her legs. Her eyes desperately sought support, or at least recognition in the eyes of the Court before her. Whether she found any, Zant could not discern from this angle.

Ganondorf sighed, crossing his hands before him on the table. His tusks bared, a flash of aggression amidst his air of grave stoicism. “It is a pity, Chancellor. I hoped to grant you a swift death.”

It was thus – Chancellor Meherat was to be put to death. Her bridges burnt, the love of her sisters lost, and the sound of her name condemned. A rich life suddenly thrown away in an assassination attempt that would never have worked, forged as it was in the blinding darkness of despair and twisted justice. All for the sake of peace. Peace. Peace. Peace! What hideous neglect, what decay, and what fetid blood had been spilled for that wretched word! Oh, how she had almost pinpointed the wrongs in this selfish King’s leadership, but as many before her, concluded so terribly misguidedly. A conclusion once shared by a woman of equal beauty, equal love in her heart, and equally bright, amber hair. 

Zant was snapped out of his train of thought by the splinters that jabbed into the underside of his nails. Fresh grooves tainted the dining table at his hands. His eyes tracing the pale wood he’d uncovered, he decided he refused to sit idle, and took the seat of Magistrate.

“If I may, King Dragmire.”

All eyes vested on him in an instant. He ignored the dark scowl already brooding in the shadow of Ganondorf’s bushy eyebrows. “Why not simply… Send her in exile? If it is peace, or dignity, as she says, that she desires, I gladly invite her to seek it with our enemy. Perhaps then she will fully realize how our brutality serves to shield Gerudo against that which the Hyruleans would happily inflict.”

Ganondorf clicked his tongue, but a smirk crooked the corner of his lips even still. “Your offer is as absurd as it is intriguing. I will not risk sending a traitor that threatens my army for the indulgence of a satisfying punishment.”

“I beseech you to consider,” Zant stated, his fingers interlacing on the table before him. “How many of our commanders have been captured, and when has this ever hampered us? All this crucial information they have doubtlessly forced from their throats, and yet, the Triforce is still secured in your palm, My Liege. There is nothing she can tell them that will harm you now, not when Hyrule Castle is so close to falling at your feet.”

Ganondorf narrowed his eyes. Whether he was genuinely considering it, or merely playing along to placate him, was difficult to tell. It kept him talking either way, so Zant didn’t quite care. The Gerudo continued picking apart his plan, perhaps to catch him in a fumble. “Who is to say she will not become a willing collaborator, rather than their prisoner?”

“We have sent spies before, Master, and nearly every single one of them has had their head mounted on a pike. Hyrule will consider her no different, surely.”

Ganondorf scoffed in laughter, “Very well. Guards! Seize the Chancellor. You are to escort her to the desert and ensure she does not return,” he demanded, his hand outstretched in the final verdict, emphasized with a clenched fist. His attention turned to the court member to his left. “Furthermore. Grand Mistress Kotoji, her name is shunned from this day forth. See to the eradication of her records from administrative documents. We will appoint her successor at dawn.”

The cogs in the machine started turning in an instant. Armed and shrouded Gerudo marched up to drag away the sentenced Chancellor, whose angered cries for the Court to join her cause splattered against the walls of every room she would traverse. The crowd was tense, her claims of more traitors running amok and the possibility that her enervated speech would hatch more of them, doubtlessly sowing suspicion. Surely, Zant’s suggested verdict, and the baffling acceptance of such a bloodless sentence, undoubtedly had a similar discordant effect.

The consequences of which soon beckoned him. As the table returned to a semblance of calm, Ganondorf summoned him with a snag of his eyes and a wave of his hand.

“You are walking a very fine line, Shadow Lord,” Ganondorf growled at him, sheltered by the uproar of the dining hall. “This battlefield is not yours to play games in. High treason, and you set her free? I will send men in her pursuit before sundown.”

“There is no need to worry, Master,” Zant smiled, bowing in submission to have his whispers easily heard. “On her own, without supplies, the desert will claim her before making it even a quarter of the way. Besides, to butcher their once-beloved Sister before their very eyes will give us an ill will from your remaining Court. Certainly, you know this too, My Liege, or you would not have accepted my terms.”

Ganondorf furrowed his brows at him, before leaning back in his seat, contemplating the hall before him in deep scrutiny.

His every breath was a test; Zant knew very well that Ganondorf suspected him. Did he not, he never would have sent the two of them here. Zant was peering into his open grave and awaited the firm-handed push that sent him down there with a grin. Not a shred of his reasoning just now had been a lie, but the plan itself was audacious – essentially an offer to send out a counter-spy scot-free. And yet, Ganondorf agreed with it. What did he have to lose, at this point? Very likely, he would do no worse. 

This Ganondorf was powerful and charismatic. He tore down keeps with his bare hands, wrapped countless court officials around his finger. His own Ganondorf had been lonely and bound himself to him thus – this One was less stubborn, in that way. But in that strength lay a fatal flaw: he was cocky. In taking them to this damned place, to protect a mission that could only fail, surely he thought he was rid of those thorns in his sides.

It was all too merciful. No, he was not soft, he was naive. Clearly, Ganondorf saw neither of them as a threat big enough to dispose of on short notice. So, before he could depart, what else could he do to burrow himself deeper in his ire? What punishments would they evoke? Reduce the number of his troops? Bait out an ambush? Would he see him poisoned, or cursed? Master, what could I possibly do to you, for you to slay me, right here, and now?

Zant would never get his answer. The adrenaline now worn off, Ganondorf had noticed a minor flesh wound by his upper arm and sought to have it treated. Just in case the blade had been poisoned. Bit by bit, the mess hall drained of people, and at some point, Zant had wandered out with some other crowd of them. The metallic clanking of his soles just barely made it past the ringing in his ears. 

Oh, indeed. Ganondorf needn’t worry. Not about Meherat, at least.

As he’d predicted, there she ran. So far away from the city, the gibbous moon and sea of stars shone vibrantly above, joining hands to light the way of this condemned runaway. Three hours since her banishment, and the sands already took their toll on her. Trudging through silky sands filled one’s legs with lead, he knew this intimately by now. Yet, she was making decently good time. Of course, Ganondorf hadn’t listened to his final call and sent an executioner’s party after her the minute his wound was flushed out. To no avail, however. The Chancellor was clever and well-informed, so much so that she’d swerved out of sight of the Demon King’s outposts that scattered sparsely throughout the deeper sand wastes. 

But not out of his. 

With no more rock outcroppings to hide behind, Zant could only shelter in the skies, a black smudge hovering against prismatic blue. But hours in the dark had made her eye too keen. She looked behind her once, twice, just to check, before opening her mouth in a soundless scream and breaking out in what she hoped to be a sprint.

He would not let his Master’s troops take this from him. Wind soared through his helmet, sand whipped up around him, and before he’d known, that panicked face was mere inches from his own, his fingers wrapped tightly around her throat.

“You are a kind woman, Chancellor Meherat – Too good, to survive in our midst. But that is precisely where our predicament lies. Hyrule would listen to you, for good people like you are exploitable, even if the chances of your rescue are slim…” Zant hissed between the two of them, looming over her while squeezing ever-tighter. “Forgive me, forgive me…”

Under the fierce grip of his hands, the Gerudo struggled, clawing at his arms and kicking at his gut with every ounce of might she still had. Before long, she at last grew limp and dropped to the floor, now free of him.

He recalled another being just like her, whose misplaced kindness in the end spelled doom for her people. And though his goals aligned with this one, he could not afford her getting in his way. So swiftly he struck her, his scimitar driving between her ribs, simultaneous mercy and execution.

“May the sands reclaim you, Chancellor,” he muttered in idle prayer, before kneeling down to hide a piece of parchment among her robes. 

He stood there, watching as the desert winds gently buried her, the light of the stars above brought him clarity. Now that he beheld her beyond the fog of his mind, her hair wasn’t as orange as he thought it to be. It was really more of a carmine.

Zant sat at his triptych mirror, begrudgingly accepting the assistance of the morning sun as he applied the black lines to his lower eyelids. His Dagger lingered about him as if he had any input on the matter, but soon found some way to fuss over him nonetheless. Fingers threaded through his hair, scratching pleasantly past the grown-out fuzz at the back of his head.

“I think we ought to preen you a little before we head to battle again, Zant,” Ghirahim hummed thoughtfully.

Finishing up his one eye, Zant puckered his lips, looking back at him through the mirror with a bit of a frown. “Already? Is it so drastic?”

“Your shave is growing out again. Just a touch-up, is all.”

And yet, he couldn’t help but indulge him. His eyes darted between his reflection and that of Ghirahim’s in the mirror, before he leaned back to resume accessorizing his other eyelid with a smirk. “Hmmm… Without Yuga to safeguard me, will I be alright, I wonder…”

“Hah! You doubt my skills, now? Some nerve you have,” Ghirahim sneered.

A dip of his brush in the bottle of pigment. “I wouldn’t dare. Yuga simply is a bit more amicable to my wishes, is all.”

“Only because he can’t stand the pout you give him when you’re uppity. Is this about those odd bangs you insist on growing out? Never did I know why you keep those,” was the response, emphasized by the grasping of his longer locks, which fell through his parted fingers like flowing water.

“... Well, ah,” Zant hesitated. Was such a subject appropriate? If it was, would it anger him? How forward it would be. In any other circumstance mere ethnographic fact, but with the bond they shared, carrying such implications! But perhaps the truth would settle the matter. 

He placed his brush down and rested his hands in his lap in a reserved gesture, avoiding his gaze. “In my people’s customs, that is where I will receive my braid, if I am to be wed.”

Ghirahim perked up at his words, his face subtly tugging at its sculpted features. He quickly retracted his hands to fold them at his chest. Picking at the edges of his gloves, he seemed conflicted as he considered his next words. “Right. Such matters will be of concern to nobility, once the war settles, of course.”

Zant turned to him now, gauging his expression in full. A worry lingered there, of neither wanting to impose nor be imposed upon. Did Ghirahim assume himself to be excluded from potential marriage candidates? To which degree did this trouble him?

Yet this troubled state joined hands with its twin, leaching into Zant’s mind. Though his own wishes on the matter were not quite aligned, to wed another than him could prove more politically efficient, down the line. He could never bear it, Zant decided, to degrade the first to profess his love for him to the ranks of a mere concubine.

So he banished the thought from both their minds, pulling Ghirahim into his embrace. For a moment, Ghirahim flinched, startled that the action could serve as a confession. These fears were quickly cast away when Zant craned his head up to grin broadly at him.

“How you fret over mortal matters! Ghirahim-ili, the red on your cheeks may fool me into thinking you might be of the same flesh and blood as I,” he teased, resting his chin against his chest.

The flush of his cheeks and ear only grew stronger. “If you so intend to mock me, you would do better to do so after fixing yourself. Your cosmetics are completely asymmetrical!”

Zant laughed, freeing him from his grip and turning back to his mirror to resume his daily grooming. “Alright,” he chimed, holding the brush to his cheek with care. “You ought to make yourself scarce either way, Yima Dinifen. My chamberlain will arrive with my breakfast any moment now.”

With just one knock at the door, a jingling of chimes announced a departure behind him, and the white shade in his mirror erased its presence.

And so, their days resumed. After Ganondorf returned to his post in the Temple, the pair were left to their own devices to prepare for the Hyruleans to take the bait. And take it they did, for mere days after the Demon King visited the Palace, the first scouts were sighted scurrying about the desert. Undoubtedly to catch a glimpse of their developing formations! 

Those glimpses would be allowed. The first days were ones of deception, of placing troops haphazardly in a feint, only to slaughter every last vanguard that would come looking from thenceforth. Zant’s hand trailed the map – they would have to route cages for their beasts to each corner of the field. That way, they could adequately trap their foes in the center of the valley, and whittle away at their composures.

So deep in thought was he, that he had not noticed his co-lieutenant joining him in their strategy room, laying a hand on his elbow. “Off in your own little world again? You mustn’t forget to relay your schemes to me, Zant.”

His mind struggled a moment, forcing itself through the barricade of his focus to direct his attention to the one beside him, instead. Yet when he looked upon him, with a gaze so tender yet hiding tantalizing conflict behind a shroud of yearning, that reluctance faded in an instant.

“All in due time, Ghirahim-ili,” he murmured, laying his hand over his. “What do you require from me, to approach me in such solitude?”

To be addressed suchly took Ghirahim aback for a moment. Ah, he knew this look. These were the characteristic signs of a very specific mood of his; where his mind was troubled, but he hoped to assuage it through physical affection. To correct his course elsewhere, where he needn’t think or discuss his woes. 

With their lives treading on such a fine line, Zant wasn’t interested in such avoidant behavior. Ghirahim was snagged on by the question a little too easily.

“With our Master’s true coronation so close on the horizon, Zant, I’ve been occupied with far more thoughts than are becoming of me. You’ve experienced the same, I'm certain.”

“Oh, when do I ever not sit and worry,” Zant giggled. He was tempted to press a kiss to his cheek but decided not to interrupt him.

“As you say,” Ghirahim laughed at his quip. “Among these thoughts were that of my future, but moreso of our past, and what it will come to mean. It’s childish, but I was reminded of the first words of love I gave to you. I thought then to have deceived you in giving you that promise, but now I know it is not so.”

Taking advantage of the loose occupation of his hands, Ghirahim guided his arm, making room for himself in-between, and stepped into his embrace. 

“This love, as you have described it, long I have assumed it as being entirely alien to me. Yet, with every minute I spend with you, Zant, my doubts about this long-held belief grow ever larger. I cannot ignore them now, because the contrary could not be more clear. The way you love, Zant, aligns with my own with every passing day. As does my love grow to resemble yours,” he began to wax, fondly amused by the red tinge he awakened in the Twili’s face. “And I find it perplexing, for us to be connected this way, for in being made of flesh and blood, you and I could not be more different.”

Ghirahim paused, taking a moment to capture his hand and behold their contact. Observing thoughtfully. “What makes us different, mortals and I, is that I know my purpose. The second I was forged, I knew what my existence meant for me, and I delighted in it. Mortal men- humans, I believe, you are listless,” he emphasized, now lacing their fingers. His expression darkened, losing its shine to a sullen face. “Fickle. Because there simply is no purpose but to live. Your myriad of choices blinds you, burdens you, whereas I have none, and I adore the way I am supposed to be. I thought I would never understand that restless sort of existence. But now I do. Master will not wield me.”

To Zant’s mortification, yet soul-stirring delight, Ghirahim grasped his hand tighter and placed it on his chest. In that moment of silence, where both of them held a breath, there was that song again. It chimed and pulsed so strongly he could feel it in the pads of his fingers. Those saccharine shocks resonated through his arm, pressing kisses to every nerve and sinew it tore past, and in its crescendo delivered its fiercest affection to his heart. It was a call, a plea for a matching pulse, saying far more than Ghirahim could ever dare to. Now, guarded as they were amidst the glittering shards of Zant’s mind, he would never have to.

Ghirahim winced as those fingers indulgently dug deeper into the skin of his chest, but soon grew to relish in it. “I cannot promise you my entire self, Zant. The thought alone could shatter me. A piece, however, I can afford.”

With a flourish of his hand, his velvet cape scattered into a glittering whirlwind of diamonds, warm like embers as they brushed by Zant’s skin. As his garment disappeared, Ghirahim leaned back, resting more and more of his weight in his arms, and baring more and more of his most vulnerable places to him. His lean neck, the underside of his chin, and more prominently so, the diamond keyhole at his chest. 

His breast heaved, taking a breath that never reached any true lungs, then dipped back down in a shudder. Zant felt his own chest tighten, his heart pounding to his ribs, as Ghirahim spoke his offer. 

“Reach within me, Twilight King. Take part of me, as you have taken a part of our Master. It is yours.”

***

Zant swallowed. He felt the pulse of his core behind his chest, concentrating at its center. With a jolt of Ghirahim’s body, that ivory surface cracked, revealing at last that silver gem, his hand curled around its facets. Anticipation tightened their bodies, for this contact alone, as profound as it was, would only grow more intense. To breach inside would require magic.

A deep inhale, wind brushing past a dry throat, expanded Zant’s chest. Such a feat could not be done without hurting him. To plunge his hand within him, even if done with utmost gentleness and intimacy, would not leave him unscathed. Months ago now, he’d picked inside the labyrinth of his core, but only ever with a proxy of himself. No, this was much coarser work. He would have to use his magic to pry him open and force his hand through the jagged crevice. To wrench free whatever he offered him.

Such a violent act… And Ghirahim trusted him to do it. He wanted him to. No, within his eyes, he saw. Ghirahim would be heartbroken if he didn’t. If he declined this offer, he’d bear the gift prepared for him like a lodged arrow until it festered out from him.

Summoning every inch of will in his body into this one hand, he prepared his incision. The magic such an act required made his peripheral vision turn pink and the sight in his heat pits red-hot and useless. Ghirahim winced when that barrier keeping him – him, his essence – safe from the outside world began to crumble. Yet it did not crack, it simply faded beneath his hand. Zant gasped in awe as his hand dipped beneath this permeable edge, and its disappearance bore to him a sight untold.

Crimson. Not sterile silver but a fiery red. What an astute metaphor it was! Beyond that cold, icy surface, to hide something so burning and true! Within him, a gem of cycling colors tucked carefully into a burning, molten cavity. It was black – no, red, or perhaps a golden, changing every second under the candlelight and the lively fire of his own being. A garnet, a ruby, a brilliant red diamond. He could only liken him, for doubtlessly, he was one of a kind.

“Ghirahim. You’re beautiful.” 

He reached inside, and it was warm. His hand sunk in effortlessly, circling his wrist with a bright white light. By the time his senses figured out whether that inside his core was an icy cold or searing hot, Ghirahim had tipped back, only barely caught by the arm hooked around his waist. Warm pinpricks tickled his skin, filling his hand with static at every twitch and curl of his fingers. Any sensible instinct that would tell him to recoil from the heat was smothered in an instant, snuffed out by the soft groans from Ghirahim that teased him for so much more. His fingers bumped into something. Leather-bound, and long, and… It fit in his hand perfectly.

It could only be a sword. How could anything else rest within his heart?

“Ghirahim,” he whimpered, “you must be certain of this. Once I pull this, you cannot take it back.”

The scabbard in his arms laughed almost belligerently as if annoyed for being addressed. Yet the big, black pupils that met his eyes were fond. “I know.”

Gritting his teeth, overtaken simultaneously by feeling and the burning of his skin, Zant pulled. He keened, for despite the blade being offered to him, it would not be unsheathed without a test of mettle. The very sword began to pull at him – not his flesh, but at his soul, draining him of his magic. It was then that Zant realized that Ghirahim did not trap him, or any of the sorts. The weapon was simply not finished. 

He needed his help.

His magic were like antennae, poking and coiling around the abstract shape of the sword. With every drop of energy that poured from him, he felt it sculpt into being beneath his touch. Double-edged, they decided, but with curvature. Corners and edges to hook rival swords and rip them from lesser hands. A weapon that favored brutality over elegance, but would prove to be both in capable hands. Hands that were now worthy of such a blade, molded into a swordsman by the very forge they stuck within.

Both men cried out in exertion with the final pull at the sword. Ghirahim arched as its pommel surfaced from him, followed by the grip, the crossguard. White-hot and glowing, the blade came free from his chest with a single draw. 

But before he could set his eyes upon it, overcome by his intimacy, Zant pulled his limp body closer and pressed a kiss to his jaw. A piece of him, in his hand, freely gifted, and smithed by their joint efforts. Here he now held his most prized possession. A stream of incoherent Twilit and Hylian bubbled forth from him, singing his praises about his beloved, about their bond. It was time to witness what they made together.

Zant held it before him, watching its prismatic white darken into a deep, all-consuming black, So dark was it that its surface hardly shined, save for its sharpened edges, for little light could leave it once touching it. Interrupting this deep dark was a pattern of glowing cyan, bleeding out from a magenta gem that graced its crossguard. A legendary artifact was made today, fit for the palatial treasury.

The Demon Scimitar.

Ghirahim turned his head to look at his shaking grip and let out a faint laugh. “It is a two-handed blade, you oaf.”

Delighted to hear him speak, Zant turned to his weakened lover, but frowned at his suggestion. “I do not want to drop you.”

“I’m right in your hand.”

Yet, he compromised. Leaning him onto his shoulder, he pulled him back upright. Just as when they lay together, Ghirahim was warm when he pressed his back to his chest. His heart was open, bleeding molten metal into itself. Such a precious thing must be handled carefully. Zant reached forward with both hands now to behold his gift, the sword spirit in his embrace holding himself upright by leaning his arms on his. His legs slumped, but his gloved hands laid gently over the ones grasping at the hilt.

Zant blinked, a smothered sob wobbling his lip, unable to take his eyes off their creation. “Ghirahim, it’s…”

“Beautiful? Breathtaking? The most perfect craftsmanship you’ve ever laid your eyes upon? Of course it is. It’s a piece of me, after all,” Ghirahim waxed, his voice tongue-in-cheek where it would normally be completely serious.

“Yes, Ghirahim, but not so simply,” Zant laughed, peering at the blade past the tender slope of Ghirahim’s neck. “It’s beautiful because it’s us.”

Tears ran down his cheeks. No one had ever done anything like this for him, nor would they ever, for Ghirahim was the only one who could. How he entered this land with vengeance and bitterness in his heart! Now, here he stood, holding the one he never expected to care for. After such years of loneliness, to be then coaxed into comfort, affection, and declarations as mates… How could he do anything but fall in love?

The sounds of his whimpers and the tears dripping on his shoulder drew Ghirahim’s attention. A gloved hand stroked Zant’s jaw, as Ghirahim planted a kiss on his cheek. “As easily moved as ever, aren’t you?”

Zant could only swallow, wheeze out a laugh. Between his hiccups, he took his one hand off the grip. Shaking out this arm, he lowered his sleeve, and bared his wrist.

Ghirahim’s amusement faded instantly. His voice left him in a snap. “What are you doing?”

“Should anyone else be the first to taint this new-forged blade, I would carry my envy for them with me to whatever wretched afterlife awaits me,” Zant spoke coldly, but a maddened spark tugged at his features. “The first blood to feed this sword must be mine.”

Shaking hands were stilled by a perverse drive for this vow, to carve into himself in a clean slice that honored such a blade. Its edge, sharpened so meticulously it shone silver, cut through his skin as if merely lingering in the air. Were it not for the sting of friction, and the dark blood pooling out from him, he almost didn’t notice being cut. A sharp gasp, sucked in through bared teeth, tore through them simultaneously as he stained their masterpiece red. Sated by the cold sweat in his neck, and the comforting, downy feeling that lulled his mind into silence, Zant smiled. Grasping the hilt in both hands again, he held it skyward before them, swelling with pride over the visceral union now proclaimed.

Two pairs of eyes stared at the fresh blood coursing down the sword’s pristine edge, as though the world around it had ceased to exist. There was only them, their embrace, and the pieces of them each had ripped out the other, in their joint hands. Crimson rolled down, staining grey fingers and white gloves alike. Zant sharply inhaled through his nose, but Ghirahim stayed deathly silent. Yet his back grew warmer, hotter, scorching pressed against his chest, and that song from his core returned. By no means a symphony, it screeched in one unanimous tone, his mind set on but one thing. 

In an instant, the blade was dispelled – shared, but Ghirahim’s body, first and foremost – and with it took its gift of blood. Swirling, churning, for as long as it could hold, to leave his trace inside the essence of Ghirahim’s self in near-permanence. It was a memento, a shred to attain immortality, to remain long after his flesh has rotten and his bones turned to dust.

His hands now free of a sword, but within his arms still holding another, Zant was frozen in place. A fierce grip broke him from his self-petrification and yanked him down by the collar. Lips crashed against his, clacking teeth and poking stray strands of hair into his eyes. But for all its aggression, to the Sword Spirit, no show of love could be more earnest. He drew his eyelids to a close and locked him in a reciprocated embrace, only to deprive this dark, stuffy room from any more of their affection. Shadows crept up on them from every corner of the room, hurrying to their master’s command. Shrouded in this black, the rustling of this magic enveloped them, to finally leave the strategy room empty.

[davekat-sucks]

the implication i got was that kanaya realized that rose was just her rebound from vriska all along and she never got over her, which is why she started to sympathize with jade's first world issues. also rose said that this wasnt the first time she used her dead mother in an argument, but it doesnt matter because rose knows kanaya is an enabler and will forgive her anyways. its all so fucking foul on both sides.

also funny how both kanaya and karkat used the humans as rebounds.

Yep. Kanaya using Rose as a rebound was kind of a thing back in the old fandom days. It's noticeable in Act 6 too because of how much she tries to be close with Rose becoming alcoholic and not doing a single damn thing to address the issue. It makes it worst by Post Retcon since Vriska is alive and now Kanaya can have TWO girlfriends still around. And it got worse when she adopted a cerulean to name her VRISSY. People paint Kanaya at that point as still not getting over Vriska. Fans of Kanaya want her to move on from the bad girl phase. She should be around people that are actually good like Karkat. Because the last time she had trusted someone who is awful, she got KILLED for it. Eridan was the final straw that she began to have trust issues. Kanaya using Rose as a rebound is now seen as bad. But you know it will never be said the same for Karkat with Dave. Because homosexuals are better than women. The nu-fandom doesn't think Rosemary is progressive as it used to be. They now prop Davekat as the true LGBT symbol. Sorry folks, but there are other lesbians that people like more and Rosemary ain't one of them. They aren't even top contenders like Bubbline, Garnet (Ruby and Sapphire), Poison Ivy x Harley, Undyne x Alphys, Utena x Anthy, or even recently Chaggie. Some could argue it's because those series are at least big named compared to Homestuck. But isn't this the same fandom that praised the comic for Rosemary being one of the few LGBT ships in a WEBCOMIC? Especially when it was around 2009-2012, way before LGBT was accepted in places like America and other countries. That the Internet was one of the few places to express whatever you want without consequence. So why isn't it talked about like the other ships? Because Homestuck is irrelevant and not important as it was.

[antediluvianapocalypse]

and while i'm on the topic. i thought about this post by @waterloggedsoliloquy and now. well here's how i would put cannibalism in utena.

i'm trying to convey an association between eternity, incest (and sexual abuse), and cannibalism. also cooking/domestic servitude & complicity in abuse. i imagine this is mostly conveyed instead of dialogue instead of visually.

a culinary class is referenced throughout the series. anthy, kanae, and nanami attend this class.

it's implied that mamiya's medicine comes from humans.

anthy stops utena from eating a meat pie at some point.

nanami calls keiko spoiled meat in ep 21.

in ep 25, akio asks touga how he liked the dinner and that it was made from the most well-bred cattle. touga laughs and says something like the "so the rumors are true"

miki and kozue bite each other in ep 26

juri tells ruka that shiori isn't a piece of meat in ep 28

in ep 30, utena gets a schedule change and now also attends the culinary class, but separate from anthy and nanami. wakaba expresses envy.

in ep 32, utena asks why nanami's been cutting class, right before nanami gets the call to the ends of the world.

plenty of references to meat in ep 33.

in the opening scene of ep. 34, akio's monologue includes something like. "anthy used to taste so sweet but now she's bitter and other girls don't compare to her :("

touga coyly asks saionji out to dinner in ep 35. saionji says he's not hungry.

in 37/38 akio and/or anthy just come out and say that he is planning to eat utena.

^ not comprehensive . this is what i thought of in 30/40 minutes.

[ousama]

i’m going to try and argue in good faith here but i’m just not sure why you’re touting utena as a show that’s so entrenched in sexualization of its characters when it goes to avid lengths to skirt around displaying sexual topics in a way that is exploitative. TW for mentions of CP

if you’re uncomfortable with ikuhara’s other works - yuri kuma arashi specifically, then that’s valid and fine. i still think talking about it as “softcore porn” is a reductive way of speaking about it, and doesn’t acknowledge the work and what it was trying to say, but much of my criticisms of that particular show (and other ikuhara works) rest upon the same discomfort and i find a lot of it gratuitous.

but that doesn’t explain how rgu as a work is informed by those same missteps, especially when it precedes YKA. there is deliberate emphasis on anything sexual being an act of violence (that is not gratuitously portrayed) perpetrated through abuse and manipulation. nearly all of the sexual content of this nature is told through metaphor. only a few times is the audience ever exposed to it directly, and this event is never sexualized in any way shape or form.

so i’m not sure where you’re getting this “sexualization of minors” thing from in a show where the entirety of its identity is how young people are coerced into gender roles, often through cyclical sexual violence. when its climax and resolution are its sexually abused girls finding solidarity, comfort and unconditional love in one another. i’m deadass trying to figure in what instance a character is sexualized in this show, and where this happens repeatedly.

if its a matter of ikuhara just being a weirdo to you, then fine, because i do think authorial intent and input matters to an extent (even though he was really just a fraction of RGU’s production). do we scorn sailor moon then, along the same lines, even though you could also view the show and not see explicit sexualization of its minor characters?

how do you argue RGU is a show sexualizing its characters because of its creator, but FMA, an anime that wears its political themes on its sleeve, is somehow uncorrupted by the racism of its author? you like one piece, and that has repeated problems with sexualization and sexual harassment committed by one of its protagonists, that has an author that works closely with and venerates a man that owned so much child porn he was thought to be a distributor at some point?

so what makes RGU so uniquely terrible compared to these other works? i think there are criticisms that can be levied its way, and that goes doubly for the movie, but i think arguing its “sexualizing minors” and is therefore an unimportant piece of art is just bad faith and reeks of you having never actually watched or more importantly understood it. and i hope you can see how incredibly frustrating that is to people who have seen themselves so fully in it to have it reduced to something its not simply because you presumably didn’t bother to engage with it’s actual themes and messages.

im not reading all that why are you people so obsessed with my opinion on an anime poll. get a life. the constant harassing of a real life lesbian over its thoughts on a cartoon lesbian show really is not a hill worth dying on. what does literally any of this have to do with me, a single person mind you, saying i prefer one show over the other

[thefloatingstone]

I'd been meaning to rewatch Utena for a while now, and your video was the motivation I needed to finally jump in again. So I'm only on episode 5, but I wondered if you had any thoughts on the symbolism of the spinning roses? Like when the white rose sort of censors a few shots during Utena's fight in episode 2, or the blue rose that appears in the corner when Miki first sees his sister in episode 5. I've found analysis on roses in RGU in general, but just the cartoon spinning roses feel like they probably have different symbolism than Anthy's rose garden, or any flowers physically in the show.

The spinning roses usually pop up when the show wants you to know something significant is busy happening. The bordered roses are actually less important and tend to only show when a character is introduced or reintroduced or to place importance to that character in some form. (in episode 5 Anthy gets a rose frame when she enters while Touga and Miki are talking).

The rose frame also pops up around Utena pretty regularly when she enters a scene. It appears when she jumps in to save Anthy at the ball, and it appears again around her when she runs over to the other characters from one of the sports fields.

The bordered roses do have meaning, but they're actually less important than the individual spinning roses.

The spinning roses however, pop up when an EVENT is important. And specifically that this event is important even tho it may SEEM unimportant. It indicates there is greater significance here than may seem immediately apparent.

In episode 5 the spinning rose shows up when Kozue is introduced, and rather than getting a frame, she gets a spinning rose. There could be a few reasons for this. Maybe because of the emotional distance between her and Miki or because the EVENT that is going on is what's most important in this scene, more so than being distracted by a character introduction. Basically, the conversation is more important than introducing Kozue formally.

There is an event much later on in the series which seems very unimportant and has no spinning rose, but when one of the characters does something that SEEMS unimportant the spinning rose pops up without the camera changing, indicating the small motion was important.

As for the "censoring" that the spinning rose sometimes does, I am a little unsure why this happens in some duels but not others, since most duels are significant events.

I would need to watch the show and take special note of every duel to compare properly. My GUESS would be the spinning rose, although not actually censoring any violence since there IS no actual violence, might be giving the SUGGESTION of the violence through censoring to communicate to the audience how devastating this particular loss of the duel is to the duelist. Especially since some duels don't seem to cause as much emotional upset as others.

However I am unsure if this is actually the case and would need to do a deep dive to be sure. So that's purely an ass-pull from me.

I also don't know why rarely a rose will pop up without spinning. But I only remember this happening during a flashback, so it might simply be to indicate this is an important event, but it is not happening in the present and is important to the character's past, but doesn't have direct importance to what is happening.

Then again I might be completely off.

The only thing I am confident is the spinning rose is the show clapping its hands and going "HEY! PAY ATTENTION TO THIS!"

ALSO!!

Thank you so very much for watching!! And I'm very happy the video helped you get back to Utena! Since my main point was to try and help people who are new to it, or people who may not have known what to make of it at first.

[liketheinferno2]

few disconnected things about xvi:

The big eikon fights are all LONG like bare minimum ten minutes I think I was on titan for thirty. To make this bearable they're in checkpoint phases like xiv raids. I like it. Unfortunately I have a habit of pausing to talk to people and then completely forgetting what I was doing so left Clive in the knife edge of Zantetsuken for 2 hours.

These summons are as classic as you get for like... narrative function. I'm a huge fan of old ff summoners where they're just kind of born this way and the visual on it is the form of this god creature overtaking their entire body. Less classic when most characters only get one eikon but very effective. Jumping out of my seat about some of this stuff I love gamma ray level megaflare. Titan the size of an mountain dwarfing summons as tall as buildings. Odin's SCARY in this one man maybe it's just me... but when the guy on the other end can sever anything he perceives as capable of being severed that's the sort of thing I love to see with reality bending fantasy powers.

I'm about 90% of the way done I think... at this point it is coming back again and again to this thesis of choice and autonomy as essential to human life and worth fighting for, for yourself and others. This story has an interesting presentation where characters can be very groundedly human having literal conversations at some points and theatrical actors posed for effect at others. Not a bad thing, feels very Utena-like to me. The eikon pulling scenes too, I have to compare it to sword pulls? Like this isn't sex but it can be intimate/caring/painful/violating in a very personal way... I'm just counting on my fingers here but you see it used like 1. By accident, painful and stressful for both parties, 2. on purpose, pushing Clive fearfully into a new life like he becomes a Bigger Adult, 3. to assert dominance, bad for everybody, 4. out of caring to gain understanding of another person, 5. out of love and trust willfully given, 6. forced and violent in that weird theatrical way I was talkin about earlier.. looking back on these as a whole I feel gears turning.

Kinda shoujo kinda berserk kinda thing you have to embrace the chuuni to get into. Other thing that keeps crossing my mind is how much this feels like ff's take on a Guts and Casca. OTHER other thing is how much this feels like this team's take on ff7's Avalanche, ff15's mistakes, ff4's drama with ff14's design ethos. REMINDS ME OF A LOT OF THINGS I LOVE BUT IS ALSO DISTINCTLY IT'S OWN THING both in and outside the bounds of the rest of the series. Not really getting the GoT comparison but that was low hanging fruit for lazy critics in the first place lol.

Also really really really good at portraying gentle touches and the sense that these characters feel safe in each other's arms and I love that shit. I'll hold off for now with the pictures but almost my entire photo library for ff16 is characters holding each other or saying some gay shit or both at once. Stopping myself here but there's your thinking out loud gamer post for the week o/

[regallibellbright]

I’m pretty sure this is two metas stapled together under the umbrella of character parallels:

@paxesoterica replied: Poke

Okay so. G-Witch’s first episode homages Revolutionary Girl Utena’s, and Ichiro Okouchi, the writer of the show, also wrote the novelizations for Utena. If anyone reading this didn’t know these facts, now you do! This led to some pretty obvious parallels being drawn, especially with the characters who feature heavily in episode 1:

In the first episode of Utena, our protagonist Utena Tenjou challenges Kyouichi Saionji to a duel because he’s an ass, and becomes the fiance of the Rose Bride, Anthy Himemiya.

In the first episode of G-Witch, our protagonist Suletta Mercury challenges Guel Jeturk to a duel because he’s an ass, and in so doing becomes the Holder, the fiance of Miorine Rembran.

Meanwhile, G-Witch establishes the rest of the Dueling Committee, an organization that serves the same general purpose as the Student Council (who were all duelists) in Utena. The roles here aren’t exact - it seems increasingly unlikely Secelia and Rouji are going to duel themselves at this rate - but you can pretty well map Suletta-Utena, Miorine-Anthy, Guel-Saionji. Additionally, it’s not hard to compare Shaddiq Zenelli, who takes a leading observer role as a member of the Dueling Committee in that first episode, to Touga Kiryuu, the Student Council President.

I’d also argue that Elan 4 is sort of a combination Nanami and Juri, but that’s a stretch, and that’s the point, because even early on we see these characters aren’t just “Utena but in Gundam”. Miorine actively and openly resents her father for setting up this whole system, for one thing, where Anthy never truly considers breaking the cycle of duels until the finale. There’s also a huge thematic difference in how the two series treat adults, with adults and especially parents all but absent in Utena save Akio (who wouldn’t get away with any of this shit if there were an adult who wasn’t kissing his ass around,) and omnipresent in G-Witch. Which is mostly relevant here to Shaddiq. Under the cut, I talk about both!

So the thing I keep rotating in my mind with Shaddiq is the idea that he’s taking that “lead antagonist among the teen characters” role the same way Touga is, even into the second half. We’re all expecting Prospera or Quiet Zero to be the final threat, Shaddiq’s not going to displace her unless he tries to bring all of humanity beyond the data storm. He just can’t top that. But where Touga was the runner-up antagonist because he was imitating Akio, still largely trying to win within the dueling system, Shaddiq’s the runner-up because he was never really plotting in the bounds of the duels. He wanted Gund-arm and Miorine, but I think it’s become clear his plans were conceived well before another Gundam appeared and they could be granted legitimacy. As such, he doesn’t actually need them, they just would’ve been nice. At the end, Touga wanted to usurp princeliness for himself and princessdom for Utena, to take her away from Akio and whatever was coming next. Shaddiq wants to restructure the Benerit Group via good old-fashioned violent corporate coups. Like, say, Vim Jeturk. In a way, they’re both copying a model of adulthood, but Shaddiq’s managing to do it OVER his own father’s head where Touga was never actually out of Akio’s pocket. There’s just enough there you can still see the parallels if you squint. And then there’s Guel.

Okay, we’re all joking about what an unending parade of suffering Guel’s life has become. To call him the Saionji by this point SEVERELY UNDERSELLS what he’s been through, because when Saionji was shown the brutal reality underneath all the glamor of the duels, it was a solely existential blow. But I do think they have similar arcs, roughly.

Both Saionji and Guel get their asses handed to them by the newcomer.

Both Saionji and Guel duel her again, trying to repair their own egos, and lose.

With both Saionji and Guel, it quickly becomes apparent that what they really want isn’t the girl, it’s legitimacy and approval from someone who will never give it to them (Guel and his father, Saionji and Touga,) and genuine human affection.

Both Saionji and Guel get thrown out of school. And both Saionji and Guel get a taste of the thematic beating heart of the show underneath the duels. Saionji realizes in episode 10 - of 39 - that the castle’s an illusion, and is the one to say that “we’re all still in our coffins” before Anthy brings the idea up again in the finale. Guel gets taken hostage and kills his father. And then he gets taken hostage again, and sees Earth combat at its most brutal, contrasting the flashier Gundam vs Gundam fighting that’s been most of what Suletta’s seen and done. (Even Suletta’s extremely bloody slapdown was still more over-the-top than what we see in Episode 15.)

Saionji knows this whole thing’s a sham, but when he gets the chance to be part of it all again, he takes it. Touga sucks him back into it all because he still wants to be equal again, even as Saionji knows he shouldn’t want to win.

Guel has had a drastically more traumatic time. But still, he’s trying to get back to Lauda and what’s left of his father, still searching for something he’s never going to get. This might be the point where he finally breaks the parallel, later than every other character (as I said, Shaddiq has hopscotched over the adult in his life where Touga can’t. Miorine has seized agency for herself every step of the way, where Anthy takes so long in reclaiming hers. It is impossible to talk about Suletta’s arc without talking about Prospera, where the first thing we ever learn about Utena is “she was very sad, because her mother and father had died.”) And there’s a half-formed idea there about how Guel’s “I haven’t moved forward since Suletta Mercury” kind of reflects that - Saionji never recovers from encountering Utena, either - but this is already a couple metas stapled together. And maybe he won’t diverge, maybe he’ll stay the Saionji ‘til the end, still realizing the horrors of war but trying to get the hell away from that reality.

Either way Guel seems very likely to continue having a terrible time. Poor bastard’s the cosmic chew toy of a Gundam show.

[transmascutena]

while akio’s car is obviously a symbol of sex and sexual violence and the power that he alone wields as the only person who can drive it, i’m not really a fan of the interpretation that “any time someone gets in the car it means they are Literally Actually Having Sex in that moment.” while i do think that it’s probably true some of the time (touga’s first car ride with the “i’m not old enough” line and the car scene with akio and anthy in episode 37 in particular are the ones i read in this way,) i don’t think it’s as straight-forward as that, and generally, trying to decode metaphors to what they Actually Represent in the literal real world is not the most interesting way of approaching analysis to me. i do still think there is significance and meaning to which characters get in the car with who, though, and especially where in the car they sit. specifically i think it says something about the characters’ relationships to one another.

let’s start with the pairs we see sitting in the backseat together. the first are touga and saionji in episode 25, who have a lot outside of their car scene to imply a sexual (or at the very least homoerotic) relationship between them (see the motorcycle scene in episode 36, with similar symbolism to the car.) after that is ruka and shiori in episode 28, who have by far the most overtly sexual car scene, and is probably another one where the sex is literal. last is touga and nanami in episode 32, where touga assaults her (another sexual relationship, although enitrely nonconsensual this time.)

compare that to the characters who sit in the backseat alone: miki and juri. miki is in the car with kozue, but she doesn’t sit next to him, instead she sits in the front seat. this, in my opinion, means that while their relationship does have its weird incestual undertones, it’s never actually been sexual, and it isn’t here either. juri is in the car with ruka, and similarly they do not sit together; their relationship is also not sexual (even though ruka does assault her earlier in the episode, it doesn’t continue in the car.) it’s possible that sitting seperately in the car implies one-sided feelings, but i don’t think that’s likely since there's no implications of that between touga and ruka who do the same thing, and personally i don’t think it’s true for the kaoru’s either. and also, if the positions had anything to do with attraction, touga and nanami would obviously not have been sitting together.

then there’s the front passenger seat, and here the significance is that it’s next to akio. most of the people we see sitting there* (touga, utena, anthy, kozue) are people who are direct victims of akio’s grooming and abuse (the only exception being ruka.) i also think there’s something about how sitting in the front seat feels like it gives you more freedom than the back, even though that’s not true. like you get the special privilege of sitting next to the person driving the car, but you don’t actually get any control yourself.

(*i am deliberately not including wakaba here, because although she does sit in the front seat on her “date” with akio in episode 30, they don’t go to the infinitely looping metaphor-highway at night, and i think that distinction is important. like how utena is in the car several times, but only in that place after akio has turned the relationship explicitly sexual)

[centrally-unplanned]

something it occurred to me to wonder recently and thought if anyone would know, it would be you ;p

when Eva began back in 1995, how much was it anticipated? both narrowly in otaku circles, and more widely among 'people who watch TV in Japan'? as far as i understand the history, Gainax was pretty niche back then and mostly known for dating sim games, but the visual style of Eva is so immediately striking...

like, I know nobody quite realised just how huge it would become, but was there some sort of excitement for a new robot anime from the people who made Wings of Honneamise, Gunbuster and Nadia? or was it a complete surprise?

Hm, good question! I am not super confident in my answer, so my bet is "highly anticipated but not crazily so". Gainax was known but niche, having 'Otaku' success with as you mention Wings and Gunbuster...until Nadia: Secret of Blue Water came out in 1990. This would not have put Gainax per se on the map, as Toho and Group Tac were branded as the primary producers, Gainax as secondary, but it definitely put Hideaki Anno on the map as director. The show was wildly successful, aired in prime-time slots - which, fun fact, meant that its first season airing was interrupted due to breaking news about the onset of the First Gulf War - and Nadia herself became Best Girl in most of the Newtype/Animage style polls of the time until being dethroned by Sailor Mercury in 1992. Nadia was definitely still 'an anime', and it was a kids show in too many ways to be a real breakout. But it was the top of anime of its time, no debate.

Its success is what gave Anno the ability to finance Evangelion, and it meant he was also able to pull a lot of 'big talent' for branding purposes - which ofc was intentional, Anno is no fool. Hiring Usagi from Sailor Moon's voice actress Kotono Mitsuishi to be Misato for example, when Sailor Moon was the #1 anime of 1994, is certainly because of her talent but also because of her buzz, and he has a bunch of hires along those lines to make Eva the "oh man the best of the best are all here" kind of show.

(Again fun fact time - you prob know this one - he also tried to bring Kunihiko Ikuhara, Sailor Moon director, onto the animation staff, and as part of his tactics to woo him named Rei Ayanami after Sailor Mars, Ikuhara's favourite SM character that he famously cosplayed. Ikuhara was alas too busy with wrapping up his time on Sailor Moon and forming Be-papas to make Utena to spare the time)

All this meant that by the time Evangelion was getting ready for its Fall 1995 debut, the cover of the April 1995 issue of Newtype looked like this:

And hey, if you want some evidence of the buildup discussed, the first page of the cover feature starts off in 1990, with a discussion of the impact of Nadia:

Even here, once it transitions to discussing Evangelion, Anno is promising "something anime fans have never seen before". It was a common refrain in all the marketing material throughout 1995, that this show was going to be special. The manga adaption actually began print in February of 1995, as a hype builder. The Evangelion team was putting it all on the line.

Also I love that early concept art - the more gundam-esque pilot suits over the plugsuits would have absolutely been my jam, alas.

(This marketing material is more evidence against the mythical "mid-production pivot" theory that fans in the past surmised about Eva's intended story, but a topic for another time)

Still, this is just marketing - who wouldn't say your show will Change Everything, that is your job as a business! For all the inner-otaku hype and rep, Evangelion was definitely targeted at those otaku, and it wasn't marketed to an all-ages demo with wider appeal like Sailor Moon. Anno even remarks in the interview above it would be more of a 'cult hit' compared to Nadia. It had a Wednesday airing slot (at 18:30, not actually super late - another myth, it just had late night re-runs after its evening air slot), not a great time and definitely not a Saturday evening slot like Sailor Moon.

It was a show that instead grew over its airing and broke out of its slot and genre - its finale got audience ratings almost twice that of its premiere (though these numbers are hard to aggregate over different stations). Its about midway through its run that you start getting those "phenomenon of Evangelion" style articles, and when the ending hits the culture critics start jumping in as well and it becomes a true cultural event, and discussion of the show in mainstream magazines starts happening. That wasn't happening in 1995.

I wish I could say it all culminates with End of Evangelion being released and being the #1 film of the year and all that - but while it did well it got its clock absolutely cleaned by Princess Mononoke, which came out the same week. An honourable defeat at least!

Hopefully this is a good answer! Definitely more to be said on the topic, man this would be a great deep dive project...

[strawberryjamsara]

All girls are like the rose bride: a comparison piece between Sara Chidouin and Anthy Himemiya

Few pieces of media have female protagonists as engaging as Sara Chidouin, the heroine of Your Turn To Die. She’s kind, funny, and strong, yet she can also suffer and have a heart that buckles under pressure. It seems odd at first to compare her to Anthy Himemiya. Shouldn’t, one would think, she be compared to Utena Tenjou, the girl prince who wields a sword? However, Anthy Himemiya’s role as the rose bride who holds Ohtoris academy, and society itself on her shoulders may be a more apt comparison one might think. Join me as I look at this anime classic to compare it to a modern story.

Who is the rose bride?

Anthy is said to give whoever possesses her the power to revolutionize the world, a power that is talked around for most of the series… but it’s made very vague what that power is.

For Saionji, revolution means outdoing Touga. To finally have a leg up over his former friend for once.

To Juri she wants the power to disprove miracles. She wants to prove once and for all that her love for Shiori is impossible.

Then, Miki wants to possess Anthy. He wants the music she plays.

Everyone has a different definition of what they want from Anthy, but whatever it is they want, Anthy can provide it. She is the Rose Bride after all. She can make anything happen.

This also extends into how others see her. Saionji sees her as an object to possess. Juri sees in Anthy the cruelty she refuses to acknowledge in Shiori. Miki sees an extension of Kozue. And even in the black rose duelists. Kanae sees a demon. Kozue sees someone trying to steal her brothers love. Wakaba sees the special kind of person, who Saionji and Utena love who she will never be.

Even Mikage, doesn’t realize for an entire arc that Anthy is a completely different person. Anthy is able to slip into the role of Mamiya, almost like she’s putting on a dress, and Mikage never notices the difference. Anthy Himemiya is everyone. So who is Anthy?

Well… she’s goofy. She likes to play cards, she has a bunch of snails in her pencil case, she loves to mess with Utena as a sign of affection (and REALLY mess with Nanami as a sign of hatred) and she blew up Saionji once and put him in the body of her little monkey dude. She is more powerful than you know, yet she’s just a normal girl, who wants a normal life. She wants friends.

So, Sara Chidouin is very quickly in game designated the leader of the group. This is despite the fact she’s a teenager, something that even gets commented on, but dropped by quite a few people. She’s quick on her feet, intelligent and cool headed, so obviously it’s good for her to be the leader.

Sara’s one connection to the outside who saw her as whole is quickly snuffed out and soon, everyone has expectations, good and bad. Even people who tell her to take a load off like Reko eventually cave into letting her take the lead.

This doesn’t just extend to the group though. There is also Asunaro, wanting her to be their successor. Midori expects Sara to act as a killer. Shin Tsukimi thinks she’s evil. Hayasaka curses her name. Ranmaru wants her to save him and him alone. She’s being pulled in every direction of expectations. Asked to be everything when she is a normal girl. She is being put in a position of rose bride, but she acts the part. Conforming to the expectations of the people around her to be the leader. And sometimes snapping under Asunaros expectations as they push her more and more. She is everything.

And she’s also a normal girl. She has weird jokes, funny hobbies, and as it goes on it gets snuffed out as she becomes more compliant with her role. More of a rose bride.

Any girl who cannot become a princess becomes a witch

A line from Utena that fans will immediately recognize. ‘Any girl who cannot become a princess becomes a witch’. Or ‘Any girl who doesn’t perfectly perform womanhood will be burnt’. It’s also a nice little metaphor for Anthy. She did not please the crowds who wanted her brother so she was deemed a witch a mark that follows her the rest of her life.

It can also have interesting implications for how female characters are treated. Both Sara and Anthy are initially presented to the viewer as complete victims. Sara is the sweet girl who was dragged into this against her will and wouldn’t harm a fly, and Anthy is the Rose Bride being abused by everyone, including her brother. Then the audience starts being challenged.

Sara is shown to be more and more involved with the death game than she likes. Then this comes to a head when it’s revealed in the simulations she got the highest score being more ruthless than the others. She killed with her own hands then manipulated others to her side.

Anthy meanwhile is shown to be more complicit in her brothers schemes than the viewer was previously let on. Despite her pleasant looks, she can be spiteful and angry, and she holds grudges, and she knows the right notes to hit in people to wrap them around her finger.

Audiences turned on these characters in an instant. It didn’t matter what we had seen before or after. They had become witches. Never mind Sara’s complete mental breakage, and the fact she’d been revealed to be raised by the man behind this death game. Never mind that Anthy was revealed to be shown to go through literal eternal suffering for trying to save her brother from an angry mob. They weren’t princesses anymore.

Throughout the show, you cheer for Anthy to snap back and kick Saionji hard, but when she actually does it, people start to shake their heads. People ask Sara not to be the leader but she does something selfish for once and suddenly it’s not sunshine and rainbows.

Sara did not act on the rules of the participants. She was not their princess. So she became Asunaros witch.

Abuse

Now for the false gods… Meister and Akio.

I don’t think these two are complete parallels. I could make a list of differences, but I’ll leave it at they have two very different goals. But I do think there’s some interesting things to go off of.

There’s the power. Meister and Akio hold a lot of power, Meister as head of Asunaro, which is some horrid cult and yakuza fusion, and Akio as the literal embodiment of masculinity, the prince, and the chairman of Ohtori academy. The sentiment stated by higher ups in Asunaro is that “Asunaro is God.” The organization gained its standing after a battle literally called ‘The Hades Incident’. Meister is on a higher plane than them. By contrast, Akio can be seen as having a higher authority both in the literal sense through the fact he controls the organization the series takes place within and a metaphorical sense as the embodiment of the patriarchal idea everyone is chasing after. His car is the embodiment of control, of adulthood, of power. Both of them have control over everything.

Then there’s the fact that Anthy and Sara are both pawns. Akio needs Anthy to take the thousand swords of hatred for him. He also needs her as something to save so he can keep reliving his glory days as Prince Dios after she locked him away from the world. So he manipulates her and convinces her that it’s the other way around. That it’s her who needs him. That the rest of the world are the ones responsible for her suffering.

Sara meanwhile is needed by Meister to be his successor. She has to be the one to take up the mantle of leader, and he takes steps to ensure that. He even hires someone to watch her at night, and never assuages her fears of this so called ‘stalker’. After all, one more person to fear makes you all the more acute doesn’t it? Sara constantly fears over her grades, how she acts in front of others, and Meister waits for the moment to put her in the death game for when she’s acting the most ruthless.

Which brings me to isolation. Sara has Joe and Anthy has Utena. Joe makes Sara act in a way that’s different than how she’s been ‘trained’ to. Meanwhile, Utena has an honest desire to help Anthy, and Anthy begins to let down her walls around her.

So they take steps to circumvent that.

Joe is put in the death game, and killed. Not only that, but Sara is made to be the one pulling the trigger. She gives the last piece of evidence that leads to Joes death. Not only does this destroy her, but the guilt of how this happens affects her ability to grieve, and remember Joe.

He even tries this stunt again later in the game. When Sara starts to care about Keiji, Meister takes the first opportunity to kill him, and even lets Midori make his offer to bend the rules, so she’d be the one pulling the trigger. Keiji is only saved by someone else’s intervention.

(CW for mentions of grooming in this next paragraph please skip if you are uncomfortable with that)

When Akio sees the threat of Utena, he begins to groom her so that she can’t stand up to him. He then forces Anthy to be an accomplice to him, so that they will share the blame of what happened to Utena. A way to isolate her from her only friend, and keep her under his watch.

Finally we have demands for performance. In order for things to pan out as these two want for their respective goals, Anthy must continue being the rose bride, and Sara must continue being the perfect charismatic leader and ‘angel of death’. The two of them can’t show their true faces around their authority figures, or things will go awry.

The foils

I don’t want to spend as long looking at these two characters, but they are both very much meant to be foils to these protagonists, who initially come off as unsympathetic.

Nanami is a bully. She hates Anthy for perceived weirdness, so she decides to sabotage her. Meanwhile, Shin hates Sara believing she is evil. So he begins to torment her.

Both of them are vengeful, out for blood if it comes to it, yet a lot more pathetic than the theatrics make them look.

We look into both of these characters and see their fears. How Nanami worries about one little misstep means she’ll be outcasted from society, and Shin is paranoid at the idea he could be killed by Sara. So much so he’s locked himself away from forming bonds.

But furthermore the thing that links them back to the protagonist is their similar link of abuse. Shin to Midori and Nanami to Touga. They’re both deeply lonely people, and these abusers exploited this fact in them. Even their ‘breaking free’ of this abuser is incredibly quiet and tragic.

Conclusion

If you managed to read this far, congratulations, thank you for indulging me. I sort of wrote this up because I really liked both Utena and yttd and thought it’d be really cool to analyze their similarities so thank you for sticking with it to the end!

[paxesoterica]

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury reminded me that I actually do enjoy watching anime, and since I have a bit of a backlog of ones I’ve either watched a few episodes or haven’t started at all, I was inspired by this post to make a scorecard of anime that I intend to watch over the course of this year.

My self-imposed rules are I will not start any other anime before I have finished these 16 (with the exception of Witch from Mercury, see below), I will be watching them with Japanese voice acting and subs, and that, gvien my experience with watching Witch from Mercury on a weekly basis, I won’t try to binge and instead watch an episode or two each day, since that will fit better into how busy life can get, and also give me more time to really think about what I just watched before moving on.

The shows above are listed in chronological order of release (1979-2023), but not the order I’ll necessarily watch them in (I like having the freedom to pick and choose), with additional notes below:

1.) Mobile Suit Gundam (1979; dir. Yoshiyuki Tomino): A more experienced Gundam fan who is also fond of Revolutionary Girl Utena recommended this and War in the Pocket (see below) if I was curious about other Gundam shows. Since I’ve been meaning to watch some older anime for awhile anyway, this seemed like a good series to start with, especially with its historical importance to the medium. I have previewed the first episode and I think it holds up well so far. I will only be watching the 43 episodes of the original anime at this time, so not the movie compilations or the sequel series like Zeta or ZZ (yet).

2.) Mobile Suit Gundam 0080: War in the Pocket (1989; dir. Fumihiko Takayama): I mentioned that I would permit myself freedom to choose the watch order, but since War in the Pocket is a side-story set around the same period as Mobile Suit Gundam, I feel it would be better to watch the former after the latter, so that I’ll have a better understanding of the setting.

3.) Goldfish Warning! (1991; dir. Junichi Sato): Goldfish Warning! has an interesting history, in that it’s something of a predecessor to Sailor Moon: the latter would reprise the former’s timeslot, much of its staff (including the director and his assistants, among which was a young Kunihiko Ikuhara), and a similar style of slapstick comdey. As a bonus, I’m 99% certain that one of the leads, Chitose Fujinomiya, would serve as inspiration for the Revolutionary Girl Utena character, Nanami Kiryuu. I will be watching both the 45 episode anime series and its accompanying film.

4.) Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995; dir. Hideaki Anno): The thing that piqued my interest in this show was a short review that I read years ago (don’t remember when or where), and that may have been translated from Japanese iirc. The review talked about how gender roles in Eva were inverted compared to mecha shows that came before it, such as how Shinji acted more like stereotypical female characters from such shows, while Asuka acted like what you’d expect from stereotypical male characters. I don’t know how true that observation is, but it stuck with me, and I’ll be keeping an eye out for that. I will be watching the original 26 episodes as well as the End of Evangelion film. I’m debating if I also want to include the Rebuild of Evangelion films, but I’m currently leaning towards watching those sometime later.

5.) FLCL (2000; dir. Kazuya Tsurumaki): I watched the first four episodes at a con, but never finished, so I’ll be doing a rewatch from the first episode. I’ll be watching the original OVA series, but leave the sequel seasons for another time.

*6.) Princess Tutu (2002; dir. Junichi Sato & Shogo Koumoto): I needed to watch this anime after watching an amv of it titled Dance of Death (it’s got spoilers, including for what I’m assuming are the last episodes, but if you don’t mind that or have already seen it, I highly recommend giving it a gander). I watched ‘til around episode 16~ until real life interrupted, so I’m starting over and watching it from the beginning. This is the first of the three shows I’m currently watching, and up next is Ep. 02.

7.) Michiko & Hatchin (2008; dir. Sayo Yamamoto): Multiple reviewers I trust said it was good, the setting and premise sound pretty different from anime norms, and I’m intrigued by the bit of trivia that apparently the director made it explicitly for office ladies to enjoy after coming home from their shift.

8.) Star Driver (2010; dir. Takuya Igarashi): Pretty sure I learned about Star Driver from this chart tracing the work of some of the members of Be-Papas (not *everything* anime-related comes back to Revolutionary Girl Utena, but a lot of it does, yeah  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ). I’ll be watching the series, but I’m not sure about the movie since apparently it’s a compilation film, so I’ll have to think about it.

9..) Penguindrum (2011; dir. Kunihiko Ikuhara & Shouko Nakamura): I’ve heard mixed opinions on this one, but it’s an Ikuhara-directed anime so I want to watch regardless, and form my own opinions about it. I’ll watch the 24 episodes, but I’m not sure about the Re:cycle films that came out recently.

10.) Mob Psycho 100 (2016; dir. Yuzuru Tachikawa, Takahiro Hasui): Someone made a vhs recording of the show’s first OP that ran on loop, and that was apparently enough to lodge itself in my brain. I watched the first season and a couple episodes of the second, until real life interrupted, so I’ll start fresh and watch all three seasons, plus the two OVAs that were apparently made.

11.) Sarazanmai (2019; dir. Nobuyuki Takeuchi & Kunihiko Ikuhara): Another Ikuhara-directed anime. I was halfway through before real life interruptions, but watching 11 episodes should be relatively easy.

12.) Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle (2020; dir. Mitsue Yamazaki): In retrospect, I slept on this show, as I hadn’t realized it was another comedy by the director of Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun, not to mention that the premise is a nice subversion of a classic fantasy trope.

13.) Shadows House (2021; dir. Kazuki Ouhashi): I dug the gothic fantasy vibe I got from the review I read. I will be watching both seasons.

*14.) Bocchi the Rock! (2022; dir. Keiichirou Saitou): Repeatedly saw the protagonist compared to Suletta Mercury due to social anxiety, and am staying for the show’s willingness to experiment with animation. This is the second of the three shows I’m currently watching, and up next is Ep. 05.

*15.) Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury (2022; dir. Hiroshi Kobayashi & Ryou Andou): The whole reason I started watching this show was this post. And now I have brainrot am perfectly normal about this show. Starting with Ep. 02, I watched this show every Sunday it was out, and intend to resume doing so in April. It is possible that I might not be able to finish this show in 2023, since previous Gundam shows have run about ~50-ish episodes, and this show’s predecessor, Iron-Blooded Orphans, was initially slated to run only 25 episodes, only to reveal that the show length had been doubled in what would have been the last episode. So, I’ll finish Witch from Mercury in either 2023 or 2024.

*16.) The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady (2023; dir. Shingo Tamaki): Another lead compared to Suletta, this time due to rescuing a bride from her jerk fiance and being really gay. This is the third of the three shows I’m currently watching, and up next is Ep. 04.