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branchandroot: Battousai with gleaming sword (Battousai swordgleam)
*howling with absolute disbelief*


*breathing hard*

I had already realized, well before this thank you, that Amano is dedicated to making her women useless frills, to handicapping even the few who are allowed to fight, to portraying the ones who are actually reasonably strong as absolute psychopaths, to making sure that they lose to the men every goddamn time. And I had realized, well before this also, that she has rolled back character development to nearly Issue 60 levels. And it was clear that Chrome was going to be the especial victim of both these trends, for the present arc.


I don't believe this. Even though it's Amano I'm-a-flaming-misogynist Continuity-what's-that Akira, I still can't quite believe she actually just did that!

The only bright side I can wrest out of this pathetic clusterfuck is that the present arc is now clearly and canonically AU to the rest of the manga, and I therefore have a bulletproof reason to completely ignore it.

Right. There needs to be fic. Something where Chrome meets the first Mist, one way or another, and kicks his goddamn ass.

ETA: Spoilers for most recent issue in the comments.
branchandroot: stack of books by arm chair (book love)
Thoughts apropos Japanese titles.

If I've got all this straight, then the reason -dono is usually described as "less formal" than -sama is not that is is in any way less respectful. Rather, it is more intimate. Tracing back to its origin as the title form of "tono" (lord, specifically your own lord), addressing someone as Name-dono lays claim to a relationship with them. A feudal one, to be precise and, if I'm not mistaken, one with a certain amount of implied rank since only one of the warrior class would be entering into it.

So when, in Ouran, the twins call Tamaki "Tono", it's a play on the royalty motif and subtly reinforces the fact that all the kids at that school are upper class.

And when, in Rurouni Kenshin, Kenshin addresses Kaoru as "Kaoru-dono" he is implicitly laying claim to a position as a retainer of her house. This one actually fascinates me, because that could be seen as very counter-revolutionary of him (the feudal forms being one of the things the winning Imperialists set about expurgating as too old-fashioned and, more critically, too likely to provide a power base outside of centralized government channels). And at the same time, it could also be seen as an interesting comment on his childhood. Kenshin was born a commoner, after all, not one of the warrior class; as such he isn't eligible to have a lord, not in that particular relationship-sense. So he could, at the same time, be being conservative and old fashioned and also very 'uppity' by claiming a retainer-relationship.

All this was actually occasioned by my frustration that there is no good way to translate the way Basil of KHR speaks into English.
branchandroot: Pacifica mightily puzzled (Pacifica eeeh)
Genre crossing, when done well, can be a very effective storytelling technique, allowing the author to hit the reader with unexpected plot turns and presentation that is sufficiently unusual that it will make the reader think twice about the scene. Alas, when not done well all we get is a hot mess.

Amano is currently demonstrating Not Well with Katekyou Hitman Reborn.

This is especially a shame considering that her first cross went off very well. When she had written sixty issues of a gag manga, full of underwear shenanigans, and suddenly decided she wanted to write a serious, indeed dark in places, battle manga, she made the transition quite smoothly. The underwear phased out and was replaced in a plausible way, the change presented as a moment of personal development for our main character, such as we might expect in a good battle manga. The initial premise, that our hero is slated to inherit a mafia family, offered plenty of material for a darker turn. So far so good. The next two and a half arcs were a marvelous sweep of fast-paced action with personal development and growth for the whole ensemble of characters.

And then we hit the bump. Possibly even the shark. Somewhere, for some reason, the decision was made to extend the Future arc with a new set of villains, and the storytelling fell apart. The pace jinked and faltered, new characters got no background or development, the fights were truncated and disappointing compared to the intense confrontations of previous arcs, and even the first half of the Future arc.

Worst of all, Amano turned back to the gag genre, and, at this juncture, failed to make it work.

This is most evident in our hero, Tsuna. Tsuna has always flailed a lot, to be sure, but less so as time went on; indeed, when he came to the future, the pressure of events and responsibility seemed to wash the flailing out of him and push him toward a more mature presentation even when he isn't wrapped up in Dying Will. With this latest turn, however, the flailing is suddenly back to early levels, to the extent that his weapon reflects it and allies comment on it. The plot provides us with no explanation for this.

This is characteristic of the gag genre: character development is neither necessary nor, in most cases, desired. The character quirks that are used for gags must remain constant, and the nature of the genre is such that readers are usually willing to suspend any disbelief and accept them, however implausible. It's part of the genre expectations.

The genre expectation of a battle manga, and especially a serious one, is that characters will develop, both technically and emotionally. Sudden backsliding of personal development needs some kind of cause or explanation.

As I said at the beginning, these expectations can be crossed, if it is done well. Many battle manga use brief gag moments to break tension; bathroom humor is a favorite. Even the development of the hero can be let to fail briefly, for the sake of increasing dramatic tension. But if the audience is not to reject that tactic, it must be framed, supported, explained in some way--it must be presented as a dramatic moment, in order to be accepted as such. Tsuna's reversion is not.

Hence my fear that Amano has no clue where she's going with the current sub-arc and has fallen back on her roots because she is at a complete loss. If this is due to editorial pressure, to draw out the Future arc more, I hope someone kicks that editor in the teeth soon. If it is due to Amano losing her grip on the story, paging editor!Reborn, please. In either case, the current issues are a fine example of how not to do it.
branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)
TRC: ...for pity's sake, just write a damn /ending/ already.

Naruto: This is getting pathetically boring. The current fight has no draw to it, no magnetism, both parties have gotten downright annoying.

Bleach: *squeaks* Oo! Oo! Maybe they're back?! Also, Starkk rocks.

KHR: *dotes on Gokudera's glee over his explosives* On the other hand, I find it deeply annoying that Amano has reverted to spaz!Tsuna. Total characterization fail, Amano. The prospect of seeing Dino and Hibari fighting is lovely, but clearly only a tease at the moment. *grumps a bit over that*
branchandroot: empty veranda at dawn (veranda)
Naruto: Still unenthused. Nice to have more back history, but the zing just isn't there.

TRC: Just hurry up already, will you?

Holic )

Bleach: *laughing a lot* Soi Fong holds a grudge, doesn't she?

branchandroot: Pacifica mightily puzzled (Pacifica eeeh)

There are times when I really wonder about Amano, and this issue was one of them.

Spoilers ahead, of course.

She had an opportunity to do some really good character interaction and development, here, and she made it about halfway. Bianchi, as the voice of older experience, provides a frame for the idiocy the boys have recently been displaying; through her eyes we see all the younger characters in perspective, with sympathy for their emotional dilemmas and uncertainties but also a clear understanding that they are acting foolishly and immaturely. Through Bianchi’s prodding, Tsuna actually gets his head out of his ass and realizes that he’s been very selfish in his attempts to ’shelter’ the girls, and tells Kyouko what’s going on. Kyouko, in her turn, provides some much needed insight into the relation between Tsuna and his box. This is all lovely, and pretty sophisticated narrative.

Unfortunately, it’s undercut by the other things going on this issue.

The most bizarre one is the juxtaposition of explicit fanservice, in The Bath Scene, with Bianchi’s mature-person explanation. The combination of the wound over Chrome’s back and the shot of her bare ass was especially peculiar. Through the whole thing, over against the emotional and psychological complications, we have the kind of deliberate full-body nudity shots one expects to find at the start of an ecchi manga. The text-subtext clash was weird and distracting, and I have to wonder why Amano chose that particular setting and emphasis. Bathing scenes can be done in a non-fanservice way easily enough. Why did this moment of wisdom and insight need to be so explicitly sexualized, hm?

Then there’s the girls’ reaction to Bianchi’s explanation, which boils down to “Yes, the boys are being selfish and immature, but they’re manly to do so; let’s not try to hold them accountable any more and instead continue to enable their domestic helplessness”. Once again, the girls’ actions get used as comedy and not to actually spur significant action or development. Bianchi has to lie about what’s really happening to spark Tsuna’s realizations, which has the structural effect of emphasizing only his emotional growth. This badly undercut Kyouko’s display of insight regarding the Vongola box; I was very disappointed, because her character deserves better than to be a two dimensional yamato nadeshiko.

I didn’t find the aforementioned domestic helplessness particularly amusing, either. The reinforcement of exclusive gendered spheres makes me gag. The events of this issue would make a perfect set-up for allowing both the boys and the girls to learn and contribute a little something across those lines, but I do not, for one instant, believe Amano will take the opportunity. The way she handled this issue indicates nothing but a desire to wear the main characters even deeper into their gendered segregation.

Amano, get a grip on your Issues, please.

branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

I keep contemplating how the younger KHR characters got to their TYL selves, and what they are at that age and I think I want to jot this down.

Gokudera: Gokudera calms down as time goes on. This does not mean he becomes any less heart-bound to Tsuna, but as he becomes more confident of and secure in his place in the Family he stops needing to yell about it. The point at which Tsuna confirms that Gokudera is his right hand is the true turning point for this. As he calms, Gokudera becomes more efficient, his edge shows more clearly, and he starts to solidify a reputation quite separate from his old one of ‘feral punk’, one of absolute loyalty to Tsuna and his wishes and of complete incorruptibility–the Vongola’s feared right hand, as Gamma says. Given the ruthlessness we see in, for example, 61, I suspect that Gokudera becomes extremely dangerous as he becomes cooler and more effective, and that it is, in large part, only Tsuna’s kindness that restrains him.

This ran rather long )
branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

Sounds like it should be the title of a children’s book.

At any rate, I’ve become increasingly convinced that Uni is the same person as her mother.

The account of why contains spoilers, of course )
branchandroot: Pacifica mightily puzzled (Pacifica eeeh)
Okay, seriously, what the fuck?

My rant on women in KHR was far from the first thing I've written castigating some anime/manga or other for presenting women as useless frills or objectified sex shows or whatever other negative stereotype was in question. I'm fairly sure it wasn't the first time such an entry has been linked on a meta comm.

So why is this particular entry drawing so much fire? I just ran across yet another (annoyingly clueless) screed against it while googling for a KHR timeline for pity's sake!

Is there really such a concentration of anti-feminist women (I shudder that such a phrase can still be written) in KHR, or did this particular entry just happen to fall into the orbit of a small knot of them and I have the bad luck to keep stumbling over their excrescence?
branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

So, thinking about odd characters.

For one, we have Xanxus. He’s presented to us as completely selfish and more than a little psychotic, and never shows regret for any of it. Then comes his defeat, more by Fate than by Tsuna, and he gets a Revelation scene. Normally a Revelation scene gives the audience the backstory of a villain and explains to us why they have done whatever dreadful things they’ve done. This may or may not be accompanied by repentance and may or may not affect the character’s final fate, but it generally secures some sympathy for their motivations. Only, in Xanxus’ case, his backstory makes it clear that he’s always been a selfish bastard, that he was arrogant and carelessly cruel and full of exactly the kind of pride that goes before a justified fall. Just to drive the nail in further, at the end of the Revelation, Xanxus affirms once again that he has no noble motives at all, he just wanted to be praised and elevated, to have the prop of a high position.

What this suggests about his character is that he has no real sense of self-worth. The Revelation shows his pride in his (supposedly) birth-given position, and, when he realizes the position isn’t his by birth after all, shows Xanxus himself saying that he’s actually lower than all those people he scorned and abused. This makes his motivation blindingly clear; if he has no other source of worth, then of course he would go to whatever lengths it took to reclaim a “rightful” position as the Ninth’s heir. But it also suggests that Xanxus has no belief in his own abilities and his strength is less in rage than in desperation, which makes him… well, rather pitiful.

Pitiful, but stubborn, because he utterly refuses Tsuna’s empathy and any redemption that might come out of accepting a worldview in which the Ninth genuinely loves him as a son. Instead he is explicitly preserved as someone among the Vongola who, despite defeat, does not accept Tsuna and will undoubtedly be trouble for him one way or another.

And then we have Iemitsu. He stands in a long line of shounen genre dads who are genius weirdos and useless as actual parents. Some examples of this include HxH’s Jinn, PoT’s Nanjirou, GB’s Kaizer, Naruto’s Fourth, Ranma’s Saotome; occasionally we see genius weirdos who are decent parents, such as IniD’s Bunta, or who can be argued either way, such as Bleach’s Isshin, but they are far less common. Normally, if they have any excuse it’s that they’re dead. Unusually, Iemitsu is given a really good reason to be a deadbeat dad: he has an extremely dangerous job that could easily spill over onto his wife and child if he stays with them, and we are shown first-hand evidence of how dangerous both when Xanxus and the Varia show up and in the death toll of the Future arc.

Iemitsu is shown to be dedicated to his job, to the Family before his family. He doesn’t try to get Tsuna out of it, when the putative Ninth’s orders place his child in life or death competition with practiced killers. He is the one who returns to Italy during those battles, to rescue the Ninth, leaving Tsuna in Reborn’s care. This demonstrates his faith in Tsuna’s strength, to be sure, but also an iron commitment to his duty above the natural reactions we might expect a father to have. He is not the usual sort of useless-genius parent.

Indeed, the complexity of both these characters and how they are deployed in the narrative are far more typical of seinen than shounen, and I find myself wondering if post60, at least, more deserves the seinen genre classification.

branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

So, I was thinking about Hibari and Mukuro, and their philosophical or symbolic furniture, and figured I’d better scribble it all down before it got away.

Poking at the way Hibari changes over time, it seems to me that he’s got two major influences in what we might call his philosophy or mind-set: Naturalist and Traditional. These are my own terms for them, of course.

The Naturalist aspect is the ‘nature red in tooth and claw’, carnivore/herbivore, survival of the fittest or at least rule of the strongest gig that is his stronger influence earlier on. For a high-profile example of how this philosophy manifests in modern Japan, look up Fukuzawa Yukichi.

The Traditional aspect shows up in his devotion to the school, tendency to wear his school uniform exclusively, and later in his design of his Foundation, and tendency to wear kimono at home. All of these suggest an investment in the values of form and conformity, and, as time goes on, in the aesthetics of wabi and iki.

Pause for translation: Both of those are pretty broad concepts, and Hibari is nothing if not selective in how he adopts Traditional ideas, so let me gloss the aspect of wabi he seems most engaged with as “the beauty of imperfections that arise from a thing being what it is” (e.g. liking a corny anthem because, well, it’s the school anthem and those are pretty much supposed to be corny). I would not say he’s much into the “humility” aspect, for example. Iki is usually translated as “refinement”, which is fine as far as it goes. Getting into the further connotations, I’d say Hibari is most engaged with the aspects of simplicity and what we might call “perfection of manner”, witness the classically sparse arrangement of his future quarters.

These things don’t actually contradict each other, provided we assume Hibari is at the top of the food chain, which Hibari clearly does assume.

And then we have Mukuro. Mukuro draws on the concept of Samsara, Buddhist flavor, the cycle of reincarnation through the Six Realms. To have been through this cycle is not an unusual thing to claim, but remembering each life and being able to draw on the nature of each realm certainly is. Despite having all those strengths at his beck and call, of course, Mukuro is clearly not enlightened, has not escaped the cycle. Indeed, based on his current life’s emotions and actions, he’s probably bound straight for Hell again.

The human state is, however, supposed to be the one from which enlightenment can be best achieved, and I find it very interesting that, after his fight with Tsuna, Mukuro starts using a new signature illusion: lotus flowers. Those are one of the prime symbols of enlightenment. An illusion of a lotus has some rather curious connotations, too. On the one hand, Buddhism does suggest that the world around us is, indeed, illusion, from a spiritual point of view. The illusion of the lotus could be the very purest expression of this, showing that all the symbols of this world we use to explain enlightenment are inadequate. It could just as well be the ultimate symbol of Mukuro’s denial of enlightenment.

I suspect we won’t be able to resolve the ambiguity until we find out what Mukuro’s new agenda really is.

branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

*staring at the info book translations*

Okay. So, when the KHR info book came out, the timeline set ‘current time’ in the middle of Our Hero’s second year of Namimori Middle school, and their ages are given as (for the most part) 14.  To be more precise, 13/14, given Kyoko’s age.

This… actually does match up.  I kept seeing their ages set at 15, and was wondering how on earth they could be first and second years in middle school and still be 15; that’s the age for a high school first year.

But, no, it looks like the times are not screwed up, and, indeed, these characters are middle school students.

And, theoretically, Hibari’s age is unknown, but it doesn’t seem in character for him to stay in middle school when he should properly be in the high school range, so he’s probably only a year older than they are, if that, and this is going to make my futurefic for Dino/Hibari a bit more difficult to set.

*makes small ‘argh’ sounds*

branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

Another of the structural points that interests me is the way the characters win or lose. In the Mukuro arc, this is fairly straightforward, though there are some instances where losing is not a final thing, especially in Ken’s case. The ring battles start out looking equally simple and definitive but, after the Guardians’ matches are done with, takes a sharp left turn away from that built-up expectation. Once Xanxus’ overall plan is revealed, the structure of the previous fights breaks down into an impending free-for all, driven by passion and conviction and blood on the ground right then and there.

And then Amano cuts it off, leaving audience expectation without sure direction.

We appear to return to the strict (and rather sadistic) structure the Cervello have imparted to previous battles, for a time and, within that structure, Tsuna wins. Almost. The almost turns out to be critical and, despite having beaten Xanxus, having proven himself stronger, Tsuna and his side wind up losing by the numbers. Xanxus Guardians make it to the scene sooner, and the rings go to him.

And then we get another twist.

Xanxus’ prize rejects him and Tsuna wins by default. Only not, because, of course, he has already proven that he has the peculiarly Vongola strengths. It’s a marvelous tangle of mixed messages, and paves the way for the demi-redemption of the Varia. Audience expectation has been destabilized repeatedly, leaving Amano more elbow room to do unusual things without instant resistance–at least, not resistance because of her own narrative momentum. In this case, she uses that room to inject some sympathy for the previously quite unsympathetic Varia and Xanxus (see post re Villains) and, in the next arc, to rehabilitate them to an extent, presenting them as allies.

Given Mukuro’s appearance as Tsuna’s Guardian, it’s pretty safe to say this is a maneuver Amano likes.

The fact that she seems to be using the win-only-not/lose-only-not tactic again with Irie only increases my suspicion that it will wind up being used for Byakuran. But what most interests me about the whole pattern is that it allows for something we rarely see in the shounen-fight genre, which is the heros really losing–not just a motivational loss, but a “you lost the big stakes” loss. So far, this has not translated into an overall narrative loss, but only due to a personal failing in the winner, not any effort on the part of Tsuna and Family. That’s unusual enough to catch my attention, and pretty convincingly presents Tsuna as simultaneously increasing greatly in power and still in need of further build-up.

It also supports her less redemptive than usual redemptions. It’s a classic genre move to have opponents be rehabilitated or enlightened or otherwise saved by losing to the hero. The characters are generally engaged in explicit trial by combat already, and the winner has demonstrated the superiority of his side’s philosophy, as well as fighting skills. Amano has done this once, with Mukuro, but the ring battles do not resolve by combat, which leaves Xanxus and the Varia in an ambiguous position, defeated but not vanquished and, to all appearances, not redeemed either. This marches well with her approach to villains in general, providing a wide enough spectrum of despicable-ness to make characters who act very dubiously still palatable to the audience. Already pre-conditioned to accept ambiguous behavior, we are less likely to kick when frankly psychotic killers are presented as viable allies.

I will be very interested to see just how far Amano carries this, and whether the ambiguities will be resolved by the end or left as they are.

branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

Okay, first off, just because I have to get it out of the way: hot like fire.

Onward, then.

Yamamoto is another of those contradictory characters that’s so much fun. On the one hand he’s laid back and cheery. He smiles at everyone, including Hibari and his opponents. On the other, he has, starting in post60, a definite ferocious streak. The way it’s most often characterized is as a will not to lose, and when he’s in that mode he’s downright alarming–still smiling sometimes but in a very different way indeed.

Yamamoto’s fierce streak is paired with a protective streak, and sometimes protectiveness will bring out the fierceness. Consider Yamamoto’s fight with Ken, in the Mukuro arc. He looks fierce after his bat/sword gets broken, and engages readily with a strong and uncanny opponent, but he doesn’t fight all out. Not until Tsuna is in danger. That’s when he throws it all down, even to the point of sacrificing his arm to get his opponent in range. And in more general terms, a good half of Yamamoto’s entrances seem to involve rescuing someone, most often Tsuna but sometimes other family members as well.

All of this, however, is also matched up with a set reluctance to kill. Squalo, during their fight, asks several times if Yamamoto is screwing around or not taking him seriously enough because he keeps striking with the spine of his sword instead of the edge. It seems like quite a legitimate question, given that Iemitsu’s evaluation of Yamamoto, at the start of this arc, is that his fighting spirit lacks the harshness necessary to fight the likes of the Varia. I find it interesting that Yamamoto never actually answers Squalo; he simply keeps fighting his own way.

So Yamamoto’s intensity is consistently tempered. Going all-out, for him, I speculate, has little to do with bloodlust. Besides his protectiveness, I think what drives, and equally gentles, his ferocity may actually be the same things that make him so suited to athletics: a team spirit and a will to win on the gameplay level. Let us consider. On the one hand, I get increasingly suspicious of his apparent cluelessness about mafia doings as time goes on. If he’s serious, then either he’s stunningly, moronically oblivious to the stakes involved in these encounters, which sorts oddly with his general perceptiveness and ability to do things like redirect uncomfortable conversations, or else he’s psychotic enough to consider grievous bodily harm reasonable stakes for a game. I’m more inclined to think he has an arcane sense of humor and is enjoying the looks on people’s faces when he makes like he doesn’t quite get it. On the other, I think his tendency, even  post60, to interpret things as a game points to something significant: he’s that intense even over games. The flipside of this is, of course, that his understanding of fighting and winning is shaped by and bound up in forms that are not life and death.

I imagine this is why he drives people like Squalo, and possibly Hibari, to absolute fits. He doesn’t have the same scale of measurement they do for winning and losing.

I think this is also why his patience with Gokudera finally snaps. Yamamoto clearly understands team play, and the more dire the situation the more strongly he seems to return to that touchstone. Strongly enough, indeed, that he cannot just stand aside and let Gokudera’s stubbornness be its own punishment; instead he’s driven back to insist on the point.

This is not exactly to say he’s the sane one, because anyone who jumps that readily into the path of weaponry even before he’s trained and looks for training just to even up the score with explosive, sword-wielding maniacs doesn’t really qualify as sane. I do think, though, that he’s probably the most stable of Tsuna’s Guardians.

branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

I kind of wish there weren’t any. See, KHR is that unfortunately common kind of shounen in which all women are useless frills, even the strong ones.

Incidentally, there will be spoilers here.

The romantic interests don’t fight. They cook. They get dragged into the future and have to be rescued and, upon witnessing the boys’ determination to grow in strength and get everyone home and safe, they exclaim that they have to do their best too–to the kitchen! That is the actual line; they want to do their best too, so come on to the kitchen and let’s cook meals for the boys while they train to become stronger fighters and more mature people. *spits*

The women who do fight, at least on the good guys’ side, consist of a dying girl who only ever wins when she lets herself be possessed by (I’m sure you guessed it) one of the male fighters, the anti-cook whose “fighting ability”, as preserved from the initial gag-manga story, is a joke, and a young woman who was “saved” from the curse involved in being one of the strongest so that she could live a more ladylike life. Again, this is the actual line. Only, of course, she’s not entirely saved, so she’s a good fighter but winds up being comparatively weak and useless. On top of that, she’s billed as a great trainer but totally fails in training Tsuna (where Reborn, of course, succeeds with one sentence). *spits again*

This is why I wish there just weren’t any women along to the KHR action at all. When it’s something like Rurouni Kenshin, and Kaoru is excluded when things heat up, at least I can imagine her having kickass adventures of her own back home! (Okay, in between the soppy pining, but still.) KHR doesn’t let that space open. No, the women have to be there, they have to be present, so it can be palpably demonstrated that they are not as good as the men. *downright froths*

The only time women get a fair shake at competence in this series is when they are the villains, and not just normal villains but all the way over to the “disgusting sociopath” end of the spectrum.

This is a shounen mode that annoys the everliving fuck out of me. The fact that the mangaka is a woman disgusts me; it doesn’t entirely surprise me, mind, but it definitely disgusts me. This is the one thing that will probably keep some distance between me and KHR, despite how much I like the not-women character development and dynamics. I can engage with a series that leaves the women out, but I can’t fully engage when women are so explicitly positioned as inferior.

On this score, fannon is the only thing that might save the day.

branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

The difference between young Hibari and adult Hibari is an interesting one, to me. They’re both sublimely confident of winning, both prickly and short-tempered around most people, but adult Hibari seems to be somewhat calmer and more balanced.

Now it’s not difficult to get more balanced than young Hibari, because he strikes me very much as the shounen trope of the crazy-strong character. They’re all over the place. They’re the one who’s never been beaten, who never holds back, who loves to go all out with no holds barred and is a little insane with it. The classic method of dealing with this character is to have the hero defeat them, after which they get a lot saner (PoT’s Akutsu, RK’s Soujirou), or, sometimes, to just leave them as the crazy, ambiguous, dangerous one who’s never been beaten (HxH’s Hisoka).

My own framing of that particular dynamic is that the crazy-strong characters are as if running, down a hill. They’re full tilt and flat out, and they’re a breath away from falling, and nothing can stop it–and they know it. That’s what makes them crazy, that edge of almost-disaster, that lack of balance. When they find an equal opponent, then they have someone to lean on, someone who can push back; that way they can still go all out and not be in danger of falling over from lack of resistance. Having someone capable of standing against them balances them.

And I suspect this is, indeed, what happens to Hibari. The part that interests me is that he doesn’t quite follow the classic curve. We never see him being defeated by anyone except Mukuro, and that does not, of course, do anything to make him less volatile. It does, however, seem to focus him, witness the way Reborn uses the possibility of a rematch to lure Hibari into the family properly.

Immediately after that is the event that I think points toward another part of this equation. Yamamoto tries to talk Hibari down, as he is wont to do, and, when that fails, actually stops him. On the one hand is the physical move, which impresses pretty much everyone, and on the other is the psychological move; Yamamoto claims Squalo as his opponent, owning to an actual will to fight and win (to carnivore-hood, as it were). That, I suspect, fixes Hibari’s attention just as much as the way Yamamoto caught his strike.

This, incidentally, is one reason I think that Hibari’s character really changes between the first story and the second. There is a rather similar moment during the scrap for the sakura-viewing spot, in which Yamamoto interferes and catches Hibari’s strike. At that time, Hibari does not focus on him; indeed, he seems put out, perhaps even petulant. The difference in response on those two occasions is notable. Similarly, in the Mukuro arc, when Gokudera busts Hibari out, Hibari (of course) says he could have done it himself, but he then asks if he can/should get rid of Mukuro’s two henchmen. It’s remarkably polite, in comparison to Hibari pre-60, and indicates at least some awareness of obligation. Arrogantly, to be sure. He even hauls Gokudera up the stairs with him, something that the young Hibari does again when he comes forward in time, once again to discharge the obligation of having been helped out.  This suggests that he does acknowledge having been helped, which is very much not the same character we are shown in pre-60.

At any rate, I suspect it’s these two things together, falling invisibly in the ten year gap, that calm Hibari: being able to fight again with Mukuro, apparently his eternal opponent given what he says in the future about honing himself against illusionists, and having Yamamoto around, as irregularly intense as he is, to fight with as a friend and probably to puzzle over as a hobby given how often Yamamoto acts in ways Hibari classifies as herbivorous.

Of course, there’s a third element in here: Dino. I also find it very interesting that we barely see the fights/training between Dino and Hibari at all, even though Dino apparently persuades Hibari to not only keep training but to do it away from Hibari’s precious school. However Dino does it, and we don’t get to find that out, this may form the necessary bridge between the loss to Mukuro, which is both tempering and inflaming, and the theoretical sparring with Yamamoto, who I speculate both interests and frustrates Hibari because Yamamoto exists outside the rules of Hibari’s worldview (more on that later). Between these three points, and taking into account my theory that Hibari transfers his love for the institution of the school to the institution of the family, we have a possible explanation for future Hibari, who is calmer and  capable of cooperation–possibly even with Mukuro, witness Mukuro’s routing of information to Hibari.

Alternatively, of course, we could put it all down to Tsuna’s powers of redemption as the pure-hearted hero, but those haven’t been leaned on hard enough for me to call that the only reason.

branchandroot: oak against sky (Default)

I find this interesting because KHR is really kind of two manga.

The first one, which runs for the first sixty issues, is basically an extended gag manga. There’s slapstick, in place of plot, and zero in the way of character development. The characters are presented full-formed with about three identifying characteristics each, which are used for recurring gags. Gokudera 1) sparkles for the Tenth, 2) has bad attitude for everyone else, 3) passes out when he sees his sister. Bianchi 1) loves Reborn, 2) is the anti-cook. Yamamoto 1) is endlessly athletic, 2) has a habitual problem-causing fast pitch, 3) thinks the mafia thing is a game. Haru 1) loves children, 2) crushes on Tsuna 2) leaps to conclusions. Tsuna is 1) unskilled, 2) apathetic, 3) nice. Hibari is 1) bloodthirsty, 2) a dictator, 3) a thug/extortionist. Ryouhei 1) is boxing obsessed, 2) shouts all the time, 3) is extremely straightforward/gullible. Dino is 1) a caring boss/anideshi, 2) a klutz in isolation. And so on.

Let us not even speak of Longchamp, except to note that he is symptomatic of this first manga.

The plot is episodic in the extreme and there is no character development for anyone but Tsuna, who only gets just enough to make him a bit more cheerful about daily life.

And then, around issue sixty, Amano Had A Better Idea, and decided to start writing the second manga. This one is pretty classic shounen fight manga, which means a plot manifests involving increasingly difficult rounds of fighting, complete with overpowered opponents and weird weapons, and the characters start to develop. This is the point at which we start to hear Tsuna valuing his friendships to the point of acting to defend them, when we find out that Hibari loves the school and is kind to animals, when we see Yamamoto having real focus that can be applied to fighting instead of just ad hoc athleticism. This is the point at which I, for one, start to wonder whether Yamamoto’s comments about mafia cosplay are some kind of arcane joke he’s playing on absolutely everyone. The bonds of silly friendship are suddenly bonds of true loyalty.

This is not, of course, a seamless transformation. The characters’ backgrounds remain sketchy, as a legacy of how they were presented. Their motivations are left to the reader to interpolate, in most cases. I suspect that Amano initially intended to play the Arcabaleno straight as actual babies, otherwise the shot of an adult Shamal delivering Reborn makes no sense, and this was simply retconned. Nevertheless, it isn’t nearly as rough as it might have been, and that’s fairly impressive. The characters are still recognizably themselves; the only one I think really transforms into someone else is Hibari, who suddenly has depth and motivations and becomes a great deal less arbitrary in his violence. More on that later.

The two different parts involve very different deployment of the characters, though.  While most of the initial caricature characteristics are carried through, sometimes in fading degree, they are no longer used for gags.  Instead they are part of the character’s place in the plot and serve as elements in a progression of events rather than a circling in place.

So, despite the general continuity between the first and second manga, I think that attempting to construct consistent characterization across both is a mistake. To the extent that it can be done, Amano has done it, but the characters in the first manga were not written with any kind of depth, and attempting to find depth in those issues is likely futile. We might, instead, consider them first drafts of the characters in the second manga.

February 2017

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