In Kyoto, nothing changes. No, not that Kyoto, but rather the Mirror Capital Kyoto, the
world inside of a painting! Colorful, beautiful, but static, the people of this world live an idyllic,
if boring life. That is, until Koto appears, like a wrecking ball slamming into still waters.
Koto's never met her mother, and in search of clues about her missing parent, she winds up in the very
place she's supposed to be, yet least expected. What unfolds is a tale of a crazy, mixed-up family,
where the father has mysterious powers, the mother is a goddess, and the siblings have an intense
rivalry that will finally see its conclusion... even if that conclusion brings about the attention of
the Shrine, an organization dedicated to protecting the multiverse.
(Source: Discotek)
OBVIOUS SPOILERS BELOW I’ve been trying to vary things up with my reviews recently – moving away from the general discussion of music, character plot in a formulaic fashion. Thankfully, all these elements of Kyousou Giga has been discussed to death in these reviews, so I’m going to diverge and talk a bit about what I do and don’t like in this show – any of those more detailed elements are otherwise easily found. I should also clarify that this is largely a criticism. Kyousou Giga is quite positively reviewed, and the majority of the popular reviews here fail to identify some of its major weaknesses – something I hope to address here. First of all, looking at the narration, I’ve got to recognize the nonconventional (and nonlinear) style. It’s no mystery that I’m a fan of nonchronological works - for a series that explicitly identifies itself as one about destruction and rebirth I find it appropriate. The point of this narration style is that you actually don’t get most of the story in a massive exposition dump, at least unless you’re extremely perceptive or unusually attuned to the nuances. However, I do struggle quite a bit with the way in which Toei uses it. Nonchronological shows rely largely on character development to drive their audience’s interest, relying on the viewers to build the story and work out the details. Did I say nonchronological? Interestingly, most of this story is chronological, but the method of explaining the details absolutely isn’t. Instead, a lot of this character development, and thus the audience’s keys to working it out, is anti-chronological, meaning what we get more and more toward the end. Now is this a bad thing? Not necessarily – as long as there’s enough to build the story. But what constantly frustrated me throughout my watch-though is that the details we do get don’t have the effect we’re looking for. Remember what I said earlier about character development driving the story? We get plenty of character development, but so little of it helps to push the story forward, all up until the final two or three episodes. Other reviewers have exhaustively discussed the details, so I’ll just use one example here. Inari claims that he wants to die (or disappear, if that’s your intended interpretation) no earlier than halfway through the final episode. Wouldn’t a detail so critical to his character development be valuable earlier on? Wouldn’t that help to draw the rebirth and destruction parallels much more strongly between Myoue and himself? We get plenty about his character throughout the show, but critical details that actually drive the story seem to be largely missing. Now don’t get me wrong, there’s elements of this suspension of details that I do really love in this show. A great example of this might be the purpose of Kurama and Yase’s creation, something that isn’t fully clarified until the second-last episode. But this one is far more cleverly done. Enough hints are given – right from the opening few episodes – of their purpose, hints that are clearly portrayed through character development in the right spots. But my issue lies, again, in importance. Sure, this might be an interesting development, but it really doesn’t help to drive the story forward. As a viewer, I feel as if I’m sent on a variety of interesting but ultimately insignificant side-quests. Some of the really important details are just too obfuscated for me to follow. Again, drawing from a simple example, I didn’t even realize that Myoue and Inari are the same entity until episode 7, which in a 10-episode series, is kind of a shame. Couldn’t we have gotten some more explicit details on a topic that’s so fundamental to the conclusion of this show any earlier? Moving on, then, onto my other criticisms of this show, I’ve got to do some commentary on where Toei places their focus. We get a lot of character development on Koto, who is a wonderfully strong character in her own right, but relatively little on her older brother, who I’d argue is the more nuanced of the two. What do I mean by this? It’s temping to see his resolution to continue living (again, last episode) as enough, but I think it’s unsatisfying. Do we ever see him coming to terms with being reborn against his own will into a family that he doesn’t belong to? Are we satisfied with his gift and re-gift of the creation beads, which suggest a grasp that he personally holds on his own life? Or are we content with him living because Koto asked him to? Again, I’m sure there’s way more to his character than this, and perhaps I’m just too dense to see it, but I can’t help but wish that we got more of this developed, in its own anti-chronological order, throughout the show. In a related topic, I’m also a bit frustrated with the use of some of the show’s characters. There’s obviously the main cast, all of whom directly influence the plot and development of the story, but there’s also a surprising amount of others whom I feel are thrown in just to be forgotten later. Inari’s brother, who seems to appear only for the antagonistic moments? Fushimi and Shouko? Even Danji, whose proximity to Myoue you’d think would offer her some more character development throughout the show? It seems that we get relatively little about all these lesser members of the cast, which really diminished the depth of the fantastical world that they live in. Finally, I’m going to talk about the art style and its relationship with the story. The story is fanatical – whimsical, mythical, whatever you want to call it. The art is as well. The style foregoes all realism for bright colors, large shapes, and clear motifs. And for the most part, the artstyle fits the story; however, I can’t help but feel that in some places, it doesn’t agree with me. I’ve said this about other shows, but there’s no one place I’d like to pause Kyousou Giga and screengrab it for my desktop background. I can’t quite put my finger on what about it bothers me – possibly that something is literally born out of monk’s idle sketches seems a bit excessive. It seems that most people love the artstyle and I’m in the minority here, but I’m throwing out this opinion in case anyone finds familiarity with it. I have little else to say and am gratified to have for once limited myself in review length. I wouldn’t rewatch this show for myself, nor can I give it more than a mediocre recommendation for whatever spoiler-nuts may be reading this right now. If you like more than a dash of confusion and some ridiculous fantasy, go for it – if you’re looking for serious plot development through pointed characterization, you may want to look elsewhere.
It always sounds so pretentious to say that a work is only made more perfect by its imperfections. At best it seems like a meaningless, sophomoric word game; at worst it seems like you're trying to make whatever you're talking about immune from criticism. But I can't say why I love Kyousougiga so much without doing that, so there you go. I'll at least be specific: when I say "imperfections" I'm talking about the obscurity of how the story is laid out; the slight visual inconsistency (the final scenes of episode 4, for example, are animated by a different person than episode 7's climax, and Koto's design is quite noticeably different in each); the first 5 episodes' insularity and consequent lack of sense that the narrative is progressing; and the way all the pertinent facts are finally revealed in one massive, unwieldy monologue that suddenly telescopes the scale and is also almost too much to take in all at once. The reason I appreciate all these things so much is mainly because of the show's setting. The Mirror Capital is full of anachronisms and looks like it's made of paper cutouts. We know from the outset that it's a drawing come to life, and it looks like it. This comes across as self-reflexive to an extent, but really what I get out of it is just that the Mirror Capital was deliberately constructed by someone. It's a world made by parents for their children. That's plainly obvious in episode 3, when Inari takes Kurama around the capital and tries to give him the means to pursue his interests. It's not an original or uncommon idea that parents will try to build a world for their children both to protect them and to foster their interests. Nor is it surprising that eventually, children want to leave that world. It probably wouldn't surprise anyone to observe that Kyousougiga is about kids trying to escape a world constructed by their father's egoism and fear. (I happen to really dig that kind of thing.) But Koto (the little one) really makes the difference for me. Her conception was itself an act of rebellion on Inari's part, but she ends up being the one to resolve the consequences of his rebellion. She doesn't go totally over to the other side, of course; she doesn't submit to the Shrine's high priest. Even though Inari's rebellious bent is behind the show's entire conflict, it's the reason why Koto, Yakushimaru, Kurama, and Yase exist. And he does love them, even if his love is imperfect. When they try to escape from the Mirror Capital, they're not rising to some kind of greater reality; the Mirror Capital is as real as the other 12 spheres, in the end. They're reacting to Inari's imperfections, and they'll bring that with them wherever they go. Even if kids leave their parents' world, their perspectives can still be influenced by the contrast between their parents' world and the countless other worlds out there. Inari gave all his kids specific purposes, and they don't betray those purposes. But they do own them and direct them all toward their own ends. It's what lets Kurama be a great governor and inventor, what lets Yase provide a home for all the bizarre monsters that live in the Mirror Capital, and what lets Koto fight back against the Shrine. It's also something Yakushimaru struggles to do, but he gets help from his siblings (and NOT from Inari). The constant interplay of imperfections lets everyone in Kyousougiga constantly develop and embrace their lives. Even if Koto's design is more angular and exaggerated in episode 4 than episode 7, it serves the scene well; even though the first episodes are insular and without momentum, the way they contrast with the latter episodes speaks to how the characters' lives change after the Mirror Capital is opened; and even if Inari's big reveal at the end is awkward and mind-boggling, it's easy to see it for what it is: a "dropping of the scales," when kids first have to really see their parents as fallible. That's why one of my favorite scenes in the show is when a young Koto, crying in the middle of the night, finds out her dad can also cry. Her strength, and the way her strength ultimately comes to be what Inari really needs, comes not just from how he nurtured and taught her; it comes from how they were able to share something in their imperfections.
*Kyousougiga* has one of the best finales of anything that I’ve seen. I do know that’s a weird way to start a review – by praising the conclusion – but in my defense this is a pretty weird show. The narrative structure is unconventional to the extreme, and normally when writers (who typically are looking to show off how smart they are) go for something like this, the result is an incoherent train wreck. This is one of the rare cases when, despite at times being hard to follow, eschewing storytelling norms works. Even though *Kyousougiga* is just ten episodes long, it manages to establish a cast of charming characters, tell a touching story about a girl’s quest to find a black rabbit, and then bring it home with a heartwarming message about finding meaning through family; in short, breaking the “rules” of storytelling lets this show do more with less. It’s… difficult to talk about the plot of *Kyousougiga*, in no small part because the narrative is structured in a way that is deliberately hard to follow. Koto is a 14-year-old girl with superpowers and a magic hammer, working alongside her father and mentor Inari for a group of interdimensional peacekeepers called “The Shrine”. One day she sets out to find a spirit who has taken the form of a black rabbit and eventually winds up in the Looking Glass City, a kind of alternate version of Kyoto that was created by a priest named Myoue and his wife, who also happens to be named Koto. Since they vanished, the city has been run by the “Council of Three”, which is comprised of the couple’s children Kurama, Yase and Myoue (yes, there are two pairs of significant characters that share names). Over the course of her journey, Koto will come to learn more about these three, their troubled lives and the world they rule over, while simultaneously having elements of her own life and upbringing recontextualized. ~~~img440(https://i.imgur.com/IR6iB1F.jpg)~~~ So where does the weird narrative structure come in? The show is comprised of two seemingly different stories that converge, and the viewer is almost constantly left in the dark, frantically trying to reconcile new information from one plot thread with what was previously learned in the other. The first five episodes are also really just focused on establishing characters, so they tend to jump around from past to present and place to place. Since there isn’t a logical progression of events nothing is immediately clear, however, as an overwhelming amount of information is hinted at or implied, no twist is absolutely shocking; the audience is basically left needing to infer what will happen next based on several pieces of unconfirmed guesswork. With the fast pace of *Kyousougiga* this is so much fun, and really rewards viewers for paying attention. I never felt like I was fully up to speed until the end of the show when everything clicked, but at the same time I felt like I knew what was happening, even if there was no way I’d be able to explain it. Just like how the rules around telling a story can be broken, the rules around making a good character are not exactly set in stone. Typically the protagonist will be the one driving the plot forward, and as their journey progresses they’ll grow and change. I often will look to well-done character development as a sign of quality writing, and it generally contributes a ton to fantastic stories. There are times, however, when what’s needed from a character is the exact opposite of growth. When (kid) Koto is introduced, it’s clear from the start what kind of person she is. Although Inari wasn’t an awful parent he certainly took a rather hands-off approach to raising his daughter, so she grew up as a kid with superpowers and very little adult supervision. As a result, Koto is high energy and hard-headed, impulsive with a mischievous streak a mile wide; she’s driven solely by her emotions. With that being said, she’s also a fundamentally good person, who always tries to do her version of the “right” thing. This blend of qualities not only makes her a fun character to watch, but also a very effective one, as ultimately she is the one driving other characters to change. ~~~img440(https://i.imgur.com/J4G1pGA.jpg)~~~ ~~~*Koto's pursuit of the "best ending"*~~~ What I really love about Koto, however, is that she isn’t just some “wunderkind” who can do no wrong. People are frequently trying to use her to further their goals, and, like the audience, she’s constantly kept in the dark, with nobody explaining anything to her. As the show progresses we see how frustrating this is, the expectations she places on herself, and the mistakes she makes as a result. Koto may have superpowers but she’s still a 14-year-old, and the same emotions that have been driving her forward throughout her entire life eventually lead her into a massive downward spiral. Normally to pull out of this a character would have a set piece moment showcasing how much they’ve grown, but *Kyousougiga* doesn’t do that. In the end, it’s the people Koto has changed over her journey that save her from self-destructing, and the conclusion goes on to drive home how Koto hasn’t changed at all – I personally can’t imagine a more fitting way to wrap everything up. ~~~img440(https://i.imgur.com/bC0leBz.jpg)~~~ ~~~*Serving as a stand-in for every audience member with no clue what's going on*~~~ Since the show is fond of breaking the rules around telling a story and constructing characters, it seems fitting that one of the themes at the heart of *Kyousougiga* is, essentially, that breaking the rules is okay. Whether these rules are small – like something as basic as “please don’t smash the house with your magical hammer” – or more universal in scale, people are going to break them. What’s refreshing about *Kyousougiga’s* approach to this message, however, is that it doesn’t just handwave it away as “the ends justify the means” or lean too far the other way and focus just on how, even if the wrong thing is done for the right reasons, devastating punishment is warranted. The message here is much more human and relatable: breaking the rules is okay because familial love is unconditional. Individuals might have to bear the weight of the actions, sure, but family won’t abandon them. Is it the most “realistic” take? Of course not. But watching it in action will put a smile on the face of viewers, and maybe even bring a tear to their eye. It’s hard to ask for more than that. ~~~img440(https://i.imgur.com/Bku2dsK.jpg)~~~ On a more technical note, I think that the visuals of the show will stand out immediately for a lot of people. *Kyousougiga* has a vibrant color palette with a variety of bright colors and it isn’t afraid to use them, helping the Looking Glass City feel like it’s really from some kind of alternate reality. The clean lines and solid colors of characters contrast very effectively against the almost watercolor-esque art of the background, allowing the characters to be identifiable whenever they’re on screen without making them standout in a jarring manner. The show is light on the action, so the direction helps to keep the viewer engaged, varying from moment to moment as it transitions from one shot to another, often in a way that coincides with the dialogue. When there are bursts of action it’s done well, with movement being sudden and fast paced, and impacts that feel like they have real weight behind them. The art does a lot, and I feel like it's a major contributing factor as to why the show works so well. ~~~webm(https://i.imgur.com/53hE9Ju.mp4)~~~ ~~~*Step aside Usain Bolt*~~~ Here’s the thing: I know, in spite of everything I've just said, that *Kyousougiga* is imperfect. I may have loved the visual style but it certainly isn’t for everyone, and at times the writing does kind of revel in how convoluted it’s being. But when I put minor nitpicks and criticisms I have aside, what I’m left with is a show that takes a lot of risks and does the vast majority of what it needs to do right. More importantly than that, though, it’s fun. I was hooked basically from the start, I had a blast watching Koto wreak havoc and power through everything that stood in her way, and when everything was said and done I watched the end of the show with a smile on my face. To paraphrase a much beloved copypasta from the general E-sports community, other series may be breaking box office or streaming records, but *Kyousougiga* is breaking the rules – I wouldn’t want it any other way.
En français et sans spoil ! *** Si on m'avait dit que j'irai placer un 10 là dessus au début j'aurais absolument cru personne, il n'empêche que... À la tronche de la cover, ça ressemble à un random action bordélique Trigger-ish, mais on en est très très loin, parce que c'est en fait un animé sur... la famille ! #**Plot :** Pour ce qui est du plot on part sur un truc effectivement bordélique mais quand même super sympa à suivre, avec de l’épisodique et du scenar, restant toujours un peu mystérieux et intriguant, avec un peu de foreshadowing (j'conseille de lire les forums pour rien rater). Ça sera pas toujours expliqué de façon très claire mais c’est pas bien important car on est plutôt sur un machin surréaliste/symbolique, avec pas mal d'allusions bouddhistes (que j'avais pas trop parce que c'est pas vraiment mon domaine m'voyez, mais les forums aident), donc c’est largement suffisant. 8/10 #**Personnages :** Largement suffisant aussi parce que le plus important du show ce sont les personnages, qui même si sont pas tous particulièrement marquants sont parfaits. Ils vont permettre d’explorer à peu près tous les aspects de l’amour familial en formant malgré tout ce bordel une famille réaliste. Ils ont leurs souvenirs, leurs problèmes, leurs questionnements et tout sera magnifiquement traité. On aura les tensions entre frères, l’accomplissement du père à travers ses enfants, l’adoption, (celui là je l’extrapole peut-être) mort à l’accouchement, et j’en passe, et tout membre la famille a un rôle dans cette dernière, ce qui fait que c’est une famille. Ça rappelle pas mal Penguidrum dans l'idée et sur pas mal d'aspects, mais j'ai trouvé que c'était + complet et ça m'a + touché. 10/10 #**Sound:** J'vais donc enchaîner sur le côté son, où bordelent on a eu le droit à une Rie Kugimiya complètement appréciable et clean ça fait plaisir ! Les OST de Go Shiina me rappellent l’ending de Gyo mdr, mais pour donner un truc plus connu ça ressemble sur l’instru à quelques sons de Demon Slayer. En tout cas c’est giga clean et épique, vraiment cool. Sinon l’ED est sympa sans plus, on s’en rappellera pas des masses MAIS l’OP est juste magnifique, en commençant l’animé j’me suis dit “ça c’est typical un des OP tu les trouves juste beaux, et ce qu’ils valent dépend de la qualité de l’animé” et c’est complètement ça, il va parfaitement à l’animé (c’est quand même un sacré hint que c’est pas un animé d’action quand tu l’entends), j’propose à la commu d’écouter la masterclass là https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYDKDrQaJ9Q. 9/10 #**Art :** Pis bon pour finir c’est giga beau, on voit que la Toei sont capables de faire des trucs cleans, avec une mise en scène clean de fou et un peu de symbolisme par-ci par-là (par contre les espèces de machins bleus/violets cubiques volants pas compris), ça rappelle pas mal Penguindrum sur ce point. 9/10 Donc une énorme surprise ce Kyousougiga, avec son nom d’animé bastonneux foireux et ses tags pas enchantants, se plaçant dans mon top 10, rendant complètement worth mes vacances, merci. ***
img1000(https://i.imgur.com/RECwob8.png) I am moved. Kyousougiga emulates so many works that I am deeply fond of. From Eva's unconventional character build-ups to FLCL's signature humour, adding in bits of Gainax's flair and even hints of Shaftism. But perhaps the most noticeable analogue is Ikuhara's Penguindrum. Not just in the way Kyousougiga swaps background characters with literal cardboard cutouts, but mainly in the themes it shares surrounding family and how, in the face of inexplicable ideas like fate or, in this case, divinity, that familial bond triumphs over all else. It's a confounding and conceptual but ultimately an immensely profound journey. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/ypYSDrF.png) Kyousougiga firmly follows the idea that "rules are meant to be broken" both in the story and the series itself, to the point where it eschews conventional narrative structure in favour of doing more with less. Throughout the 10 episodes, characters are recontextualized both in the eyes of the audience and in the eyes of other characters, creating an air of mystique that could only be achieved through said defiance of rules. Yet despite all this, I still believe that, in my humble opinion, Kyousougiga never trespasses into the incoherent territory that most shows experimenting with such formats tend to find themselves in. There's a clear vision behind each idea laid out, some definite, others more interpretable, but each complements the core tenet that is constantly built upon from the very first episode. Rie Matsumoto's direction is impeccable. Her style and manner of storytelling have clear influences, yet she also has this originality. Each frame is inspired and gorgeously composed. Each character design is expressive and unique. I don't hesitate to say that this is one of the best-shot anime of all time. The opening and endings, aside from being complete bops, complement the show well. A single melody carries the weight of a thousand words. Recurring riffs of hope overwhelm the dread as every episode ends with a pronounced _so fight!_ img383(https://i.imgur.com/CHk2mdh.png) img383(https://i.imgur.com/SrlYReC.png) img383(https://i.imgur.com/PJLxpjS.png) img383(https://i.imgur.com/bl4gFbQ.png) img383(https://i.imgur.com/g9oKHfS.png) img383(https://i.imgur.com/kIOZD9u.png) ~~~(apologies but words alone don't do justice to this masterclass I just have to dump my screencaps)~~~ Underneath the layers of glitter and confusion lies an equally compelling narrative. It's a timeless family drama set against a backdrop that is vastly Japanese in its cultural and religious references. Special episode 5.5 goes deep into exploring the show's various historical influences. Ideas of Buddhism and Shintoism, death and rebirth, but it also has nods to Alice in Wonderland, particularly in its ideas of escapism. Escapism from responsibility, duty, and even life. As such, Kyousougiga forms a triad of influences between Japanese folklore, Buddhism, and Alice in Wonderland. The basic idea of each is imperative to understand what Kyousougiga is trying to convey. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/XW3gdT2.png) img1000(https://i.imgur.com/D6wltli.png) ~~~[window of enlightenment representing the universe and window of delusion representing the suffering of human life]~~~ As I mentioned before episode 5.5 explored the influences behind the series. A pair of guard statues can be turned into characters. Ancient buildings can act as settings for the story. Ancient scrolls called Chōjū-jinbutsu-giga, from which the show derives its title. Two geometrically simple shaped windows, one a circle and the other a square, one a window of enlightenment representing the universe and the other being the window of delusion representing the suffering of human life, respectively, can completely elevate your characters and scenes, while some dude from the 1200s called "Myōe" who made Kōzan-ji temple (of which the only existing building is Sekisui-in) and was the first man in Japan to make tea (???) is used to model your character after, who is also called Myōe and lives in that temple as well. Like bro, even his wooden dog made it to the show as a real one, and so did his painting that he considers his mother that gave Koto her body (he was a little weird, methinks). This is a testament to how strong ideas can live through generations via different forms. img1000(https://media.tenor.com/CttHNQvTkrYAAAAC/kyousougiga-anime.gif) One of the numerous distinct attributes of Kyousogiga is the flavour of nostalgia it carries. It's a retelling of a classic story of a girl walking into the looking glass, which is a story we all grew up with, but it's also because of its depiction of home. Your home, my home. It also carries this scent of longing. Eventually, as we grow older, our families are split across hundreds of miles. There's this tinge of sadness that follows, but not without this comfort that even as we drift apart, so too will we stay together. For there to be loss, there first has to be gain. Myoue's empty shrine is first inhabited by a rabbit granted a human body named Lady Koto, who brandishes him with love. Then Yakushimaru, the war orphan, their youngest son and a human. Kurama, the eldest son and a drawing. Yase, the middle daughter and an Oni (demon). Together this eccentric family lived happily, yet they were still bothered by the capital. To continue living a carefree life Myoue simply creates a new one called Mirror Capital, a wonderland where nothing ever dies and nothing is ever born. In short, nothing ever changed. Unfortunately, things never can be so simple, and with Lady Koto's contract up the parents decide to leave their children with only the memories of their time together and the promise that they'll one day return. There are two ways Kyousougiga explores its fable: one is through a single-character focus, and the other is through a family focus. The series opens with Inari/Myoue longing for the days shared with his loved ones. The sun shines on the past, the future is clouded in mystery while he remains stuck in the present. Kurama wants to break free from this world. He embraced it as a kid as it allowed him to do as he pleased. But now he wants to see the outside world and thinks of this one as a prison meant to keep him in until their parents return. Yase clings to her material memories, storing them safely. She hates the station opening because it threatens to pull these away. She is the unwanted thing left behind. She too liked the Mirror Capital because it was unchanging. All she cared about was spending time with her mother. With Lady Koto gone, she latches onto any pieces of her she can find. Child Koto feels like she missed out on that past. She longs to find the family she never got to experience. Looking forward to the future so that she can look back. If you have no past, and all you have is the future, which is so uncertain, then who are you? Koto keeps moving forward in search of her answers, breaking into Mirror Capital in search of her mother. Yakushimaru has to take on the name, appearance and role of his father. He had given up on life after losing his initial family, but Myoue gave him a second chance. Despite viewing it as a curse, he came to love his mother and appreciate his place within the family. The promise he made to his father ties him to this place where time seems to stand still. The younger Yakushimaru's arc illustrates the weight of expectations parents place on their kids. An almost predetermined pressure to follow in their footsteps. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/HjHpfbj.png) It's interesting to note that what essentially makes this family dynamic work is their perfectly normal relationships, despite their outward peculiarities. Who knew a show about gods and drawings that come to life would be one of the most human tales in anime? img1000(https://i.imgur.com/1AHqY7X.png) These episodes featured direction that was far more subdued compared to the ONA, and even in those quieter moments, it added so much through its phenomenal compositions. It's a complete visual treat that doubles as meaningful imagery. Establishing an entire universe (while keeping a few secrets, of course) without feeling overstuffed. Something as simple as a cup is used to breathe life into a character while also keeping an emotive atmosphere intact, or a pomegranate acts as a heavy motif. It feels boundless in its ideas. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/fWaYqq6.png) img1000(https://i.imgur.com/dCxFhnC.png) The pomegranate is perhaps the most striking symbol in the show. It makes its appearance in episode 5. At first in a flashback, cut in half and bleeding in Yakushimaru's hands, and then later in a train as a whole with the rest of the "unneeded items" to be discarded (notice how there's an elderly woman on that train). The young, gloomy Yakushimaru later understands the connection Koto has to his parents, whose appearance changes the tone of his flashback completely. He then hands his bleeding pomegranate to young Koto, who eats it and smiles at him. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/YqSpEPY.png) img1000(https://i.imgur.com/tgqlwHt.png) Img1000(https://i.imgur.com/PUJN9HC.png) It is a symbol of his life. It does, at one point, beat when Yakushimaru holds it near his heart. At first, it was bleeding when he committed seppuku and lost his family (half of his pomegranate). After his adoptive parents eventually leave, he finds himself in that same position yet again, but this time instead of bleeding literally, he is bleeding emotionally, with the other half of the pomegranate missing yet again. Yakushimaru is handing over his "heart/life" to Koto and asking her to kill him once they find his mother, to free him from his "immortality". The pomegranate on the train could be symbolic of Yakushimaru's wish for death. His desire to discard his life away. This is also supported by the conversation between Yase and Kurama earlier in the episode. Apart from the train metaphor, their conversation about the dog waiting for its dead master until it dies itself very much mirrors Yakushimaru's purported trajectory at this point. The second half then zooms out and explores the family dynamic as a whole, which happens as soon as their mother, Lady Koto, returns. This half features some of the most tender and heartwarming images of a family you could ask for. We were already told they loved their parents, but seeing them whole and together accentuates how important parents are in a family. There's a noticeable flow of gestures of love. But this proves to be inadequate, the kids realise that they didn't just long for their parents, they longed for their pasts. Things have changed just as much as they have remained. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/2dYNvb4.png) Lady Koto asks her daughter to save her father from the dream that traps him, the dream to create new worlds and find purpose. Koto breaks down in front of Yakushimaru. She feels she has been mostly viewed as a tool rather than a person with needs and wants of her own. Parents often yearn to vicariously live out their dreams and reverse their failures through their children. That's why Inari splits his ability between Yakushimaru and Koto, his first and his last, the power to create and the power to destroy. How do you become your own person, if you're carrying the responsibilities bestowed upon you by your parents? Not only do Yakushimaru and Koto suffer from that weight, but so does their enigmatic father, Inari. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/48Mdc24.png) ~~~eye of the world~~~ img383(https://i.imgur.com/eHBfGIN.png) img383(https://i.imgur.com/Qk5Ug8c.png) img1000(https://i.imgur.com/UXcvP8C.png) ~~~god without purpose~~~ img1000(https://i.imgur.com/kzjDGU8.png) ~~~strings of abandonment~~~ Inari, at this point, has gone through yet another rebirth. As a god, a priest, a father, an observer, and now just a man. In every era of his life, he has struggled with understanding his place in the world. He has grappled and ultimately rebelled against his father. Creating a Mirror Capital that should never have existed. In the end, Inari himself is still a child. Toying with the laws of the universe on his whims to fabricate his sense of purpose. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/CPvrOx5.png) img1000(https://i.imgur.com/pwiYszh.png) >"You're like a child. You don't know how to control yourself. Everything you do is overly extravagant. You're free, selfish, uninhibited. Self-centered. A cold-hearted monster. Yet, you know how to demand attention. A proud man, who can't bear to be alone." This comes as a shock to Yakushimaru. Kids view their parents as infallible beings. As they grow older and become adults themselves, they realise everyone, parents included is still a child at heart. They're as flawed as any. Yakushimaru always looked towards the past, keeping it frozen in place until his parents returned. Kurama tells him that the world doesn't change until you do. Yakushimaru refused to grow up, as such their worlds stayed the same. Yase and Kurama found meaning in being his playmates made to comfort him, but Yakushimaru could never find his. You look towards the past too much and you'll become rooted in it. It's always better to look ahead than to look back. As Kurama steps out of a cave he notes, how much brighter it is above, outside than in a hole. The future may be uncertain, but it is the only way forward. Besides, your past is always there with you. Better to build on it than be satisfied with it. To do so is to rot in a hole. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/Is643E5.png) >"Let’s be happy! With everyone, if we can, for as long as we live... and for that, I’m sure we can start over as many times as it takes!" As we progress further into this deep unravelling of abandonments that goes back generations, we see a bloom of love. Love is not just doing things for the sake of others but also wanting to be there with them and spend time with them. Both Kotos have to slap sense into Inari. ~~~"I want to KILL MYSELF" Live Koto reaction: ~~~img1000(https://media.tenor.com/mCZUdPtDWHcAAAAC/kyousougiga-hammer.gif) img1000(https://i.imgur.com/WLhmUte.png) >"Laughing, crying, getting angry, being happy... We did all that together, didn’t we? That’s what love is!" Koto punctuates "That's love!" as she lists off the small moments of her childhood to her father. Life is a responsibility, unbound by any specific purpose. Koto wants her father to stay here with her, alive. She doesn't want him to selfishly leave off while also passing his problems onto others. Family comes from the small. It's in those inconsequential everyday moments, meaningful in its triviality. It's about being together, even if you're not together. The value of it is in its very existence. At the end of it all, Kyousougiga asks, img1000(https://i.imgur.com/LxAIX6j.jpg) Kyousougiga paints a picture of a fractured, found family that learns to come together again, lean on one another again, and trust one another again. It’s a story about love and the burdens of expectations. The most important thing, despite their broken past and ambiguous future, is that right now, at this moment, they are together and happy. In Love and Rebirth, Kyousougiga ends the same way it began, with a shot of a particular, yet also, regular family. img1000(https://i.imgur.com/IIrMJFF.png)