OF PERSPECTIVE AND HUMANITY AND KYOUSUGIGA

WAI KWAN WU - Managing Editor, 3rd Year, Molecular Cell Biology

This show has my favorite storyboarding in all of anime.

SPOILERS FOR KYOUSOUGIGA

Kyousougiga is quite a bit of a mystery. Not necessarily by the traditional genre definition, but because of its characters. They're human, they're kids, and they interact with the world around them. But there is an intriguing aura around each character, something beneath the surface of each of their presentations. Fundamentally, they're abandoned people who crave love. But that's not the only thing to unpack about either Kyousougiga or its characters.

Some time long ago, a monk eloped with his rabbit wife and three kids to a world that he created: a mirror-Kyoto where everything that is broken becomes fixed. Until one day, the parents decide they've had enough and leave without a trace. The three kids—Yakushimaru, Kurama, and Yase—are left behind, without a purpose. This sets the stage to two prominent mysteries. One, just where did their parents disappear to, and two, what are they supposed to do now? It is in their grappling of these two questions that gives rise to some of the most emotionally resonant perspective storytelling in Kyousougiga

What Kyousougiga particularly gets right in its portrayal of its characters is the manner through which we learn about them: initially, they come off as more of larger-than-life caricatures than actual humans, but as the show digs deeper into each character's point-of-view, you start to get a sense of what ticks for each character and why they act the way they do. Through the lens of the show's overarching mysteries, the characters are always examined in relation to someone else, which greatly contextualizes each character in the light of what they each find important. Yakushimaru was given a second chance at life after being adopted by his parents, but a role as the new monk after his father disappeared was never something that he was equipped to handle. Kurama wished to explore the world, but was trapped by his father's empty promises. Yase latches onto her childhood keepsakes as a way to cope with the loss of her mother. Rather than a raw display of emotions, Kyousougiga portrays their feelings as something more transcendent. A sense of longing that is difficult to put into words. But it is because of the difficulty of describing these emotions that makes them hit so hard.

The protagonist of the series, Koto, is also something of a mystery herself, being a carefree outsider that doesn't share the emotional baggage of the siblings. This carefree attitude makes it so that Koto becomes a fascinating character to follow around, as much of her thoughts are hidden behind her swagger. In episode 2, we follow younger Koto as she wanders around the house in which she lives with her teacher. Very little dialogue is used here, but Koto's intriguing personality leaves us hooked onto her little escapade as we wonder what she is up to. This is further enhanced by the visual cues that are laden throughout the episode, and the viewer is tasked with deciphering both what is shown on the screen and Koto's specific actions. In this, Koto differs from the other characters as there is a much more restrained look into her perspective, and she even spends quite a bit of the show acting as a point-of-view character to learn more about the siblings, but not herself. Yet, her portrayal remains equally engaging to the audience.

It is impossible to discuss Kyousougiga without a quick note on its visual production. Rie Matsumoto's exemplary use of imagery and storyboarding to further the emotional impact of each scene never becomes less impressive, and it works extremely well to enhance the portrayal of each character. Some of the characters, like Yase, can have particularly straightforward tellings of their stories, but the boarding does wonders to highlight their emotional states and relations to other characters, so there always ends up being a certain air of mystery surrounding each character that is left for the audience to decipher.

Kyousougiga is an incredibly rare kind of show, capable of telling so much, with so much, but also so little. The skill that it exercises in effectively characterizing each character is nothing short of breathtaking, and it becomes that much more rewarding to follow the characters on their journeys to heal. Dramatic characters with an emotional hook are common to see, but when done well, they never get old.