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*A one-of-a-kind stylistic powerhouse, visionary yet sometimes (personally) counterproductively labyrinthine*

~~

Some creative works lead as the definition themselves, incomparable in numerous respects and the basis for its class. At the hands of the oft-praised unorthodox mind of Yuasa, overflowing with his distinctive direction has a brimful anime called Kaiba spawned that challenges the limits of the medium. One can say it is a significant hallmark for animation simply for its visionary maneuver of movement, the heart of the storytelling vehicle, and its partnership with volatile plot progressions both in the episodic portions and the primary tale for how the narrative is unfolded by its world and its ... characters. Complete the puzzle pieces together, and it simply is "one-of-a-kind".

Now to be quite honest, as of this section I'm still unsure of what I feel about Kaiba in the realm of "liking" and "not liking (enough)". In engaging myself with writing I'm seeking out the truth in the process. It's fun to find a definitive answer by navigating through a sea of unpolished thoughts by means of writing it all out. But of course, I already have preliminary impressions.

!! SPOILER REVIEW !!

Yuasa and team have created a stylistic powerhouse to be sure, but I personally encountered a degree of difficulty in following the scenes and piecing two and two together due to a feeling of being lost in the marathon.

Kaiba is fundamentally a show which aims to shower the viewer with existential acceptance and ease through emphasizing the importance of memories, that is the continuous past that creates the present which powers the future, acceptance of the many versions of one's self (Kaiba accepting his being Warp--a distinguished copy of it--and the Final Warp at the end), maintaining harmony with the body as a vessel, and making efforts to be vulnerable and honest and faithful to the virtue in interpersonal relationships. Detailing the path towards the nucleus is the presence of societal and moral ills namely discrimination, objectification, the stark divide between different economical classes, power struggles, and even one under the umbrella of child labor, as the sources of conflict and a way to condense a statement which tells of the state of such a large entity as the world heavily affecting one's sense of self as well, elbowing at the political sphere.

Packed with many things to say, no doubt. But its container as a 12-episode-long anime I believe has made it fall victim to the common problem of compressed content with airy depths. This is where the animation further fills the gaps, but in some moments, it becomes the purveyor of confusion.

For instance, this clip (https://imgur.com/AHXOJNy) from episode 8 shows Kichi, the one Popo slandered as a "degenerate memory merchant" way back in episode 1, in his moving chair collecting the body of Kaiba. It was the first time his name was revealed, and his unnanounced entrance, alongside the speed of his exit without clearly showing his overall image, puzzled me as to who that person is and why he seems important to the scene and to Popo and Sate. It didn't help that the previous sequences between Mantle, Evil Warp, and Hal was heated and crowded with action, and it also didn't help that Kichi's screentime was very brief to register his character with utmost clarity amidst the bustling episodes in between. What's more, the events that followed with Sate pointing her gun at the defenseless Evil Warp's head which she noticed from a large distance, yet not shooting her enemy, was quite unreasonable. Popo noticed it too, but none of them reacted over seeing a Warp copy, feeling urgent instead a certain Kichi's involvement. It felt really awkward. There must be a reason for this, and indeed one point was raised a minute or so later when Sate said in an amazed tone how there are multiple Warps existing, but shouldn't seeing one firsthand opt a resistance group to at least immobilize their foe on sight? That portion always bugged me.

Another one was in episode 11 (https://imgur.com/jW6MazA), with Mantle suddenly revived after Evil Warp made him pop in episode 8. It took several revisits of the scene of his supposed death to have an inkling on how he survived.

From what I understood, it had something to do with the violet substance he bit with his teeth, since after liquefying, the pool was of the same color, unlike the rest of the instances of being shot turning the body into yellow (except the Warp line which bleed green). What that substance was, it is quite unsure. I couldn't find any other explanation to defend it from being a major plot discrepancy, since he didn't collaborate with anyone other than Dada (and even then he was betrayed); that whole feud with Evil Warp couldn't have been scripted. Perhaps that Mantle who got popped was an exact copy using Patch's bio-copy technology; still it bleeding purple wouldn't make sense, and no one else other than Patch can avail of the factory I think. Although a sort-of logical answer is found, the many neglected details tarnish it, and the process in achieving it isn't intuitive for such a revelation very late into the game.

Speaking of neglected details, has this "Meiri" object Mantle brought to Evil Warp ever been explained? I might have missed it out.

One last thing in the department of difficult to understand: Kaiba's motives in willingly removing his memory by falling from Heaven through the electrolytic cloud. There are things which should be discussed before reaching that point.

Warp's reputation as king betrays him due to converting memories into chips which can be exploited and putting up memory tanks for its operations. But did that Warp who had been a vile king for many years also include Kaiba? It probably did, since Kichi did say in episode 10 that Kaiba was like that before meeting Neiro and falling in love with her.

So why did he willingly forfeit his memories to be reborn underground?

Possibility 1: He wanted to save the underground world. This claims that he already possessed sympathy despite being Warp. He saw the state of the world and wished to change its condition. Vanilla did remark that Warp wouldn't want a town like Abipa, and the last episode showed the grievances of Kaiba regarding the thick evils of the world. But why did he need to go through the cloud and remove his memories? Wouldn't it be more optimal to use his powers to abolish the system as the omnipotent being that he is? And not in a way that he should threaten--rather, participate in rebuilding the laws and recalibrating the culture towards a more conducive society. Maybe he didn't trust himself due to being a part of the Warp line, and willingly subjected himself to be shaped by the consciousness of his impoverished citizens, so he calculated his descent to crack straight through the old palace which contains the memories of his previous brethren to eventually return there after gaining new insights, go back to Heaven, and fight from there again? Then his reply to Neiro that he is fighting the best he can rings solidly. Still, I'm not sold in the cause of his actions being strong distrust of his own self, when he apparently already has gained empathy by that time. And that same possession of empathy conflicts Kichi's comment regarding his tyranny in the past.

Possibility 2: He was still a vile king who schemed to be an insider threat to destroy Issoudan's resistance. We bring back the idea that he calculated his fall from the cloud to breach the old palace and eventually regain memories. His preliminary plan would be to get rid of Issoudan by learning about it as much as he can, but he didn't take into account that he would be someone else after being fed with new memories. Additionally, upon Kaiba's return to Heaven, the Computer relayed this specific line: "The mission is complete." The "mission" must be Kaiba's invasion of Issoudan headquarters, especially since a Warp figure exclaimed its danger for defying the government. Therefore Kaiba's vileness is as Kichi has stated, but it refutes Vanilla's and Final Warp's thoughts on the matter. I understand, however, that Kichi does not personally know Kaiba, whereas Final Warp does, so his voice should probably place him in a less reliable position as an observer. I'm disinclined to put my belief on this possibility; I've become more forgiving of the former.

Before moving on, who was that Warp which was delivering death sentences to reported criminals and said that Issoudan is dangerous? It couldn't have been Kaiba, since this Warp's chest has no hole. It couldn't have been Evil Warp because he was born only after Neiro was reborn, and this scene came way before that. Was this another Warp before them? A very out-of-place move if it were. So maybe it is Kaiba? I found another moment where Kaiba had no hole where he should've, which might just be an error. (https://imgur.com/dXeSlsP) This wouldn't be the only time this happens, because the finale proved that such things could occur. A blood-filled Neiro, after one short cut, suddenly became clean (https://imgur.com/jW6MazA). In and of itself, such a thing shouldn't be anything more than awkward. But when made as a reference for earlier errors, it only fortifies the credibility of a personal headache-inducing experience. The small details present themselves to be important, such as Hyo-Hyo's disappearance from the capsule and Kichi's clenched fist in episode 1 and Quilt being recurrent, which when thinking about possibly Neiro inhabiting the scientist's body to shut down Patch, and Quilt's design being an important stuffed for her from childhood, adds more tragedy to Neiro's manipulated fate. It makes a few brief scenes of Kaiba not having a hole for some reason become catastrophic and a turn away from its own virtues.

Kaiba is a heavily dense show, with non-stop movement and relevant lore drop until the end. More often than not, every minute part of it serves towards a complete tale. The merits of a packed story were unfortunately heavily obstructed by a tad bit too loose direction which forsakes an intuitive experience and a room to breathe amidst the boisterous and all the same intriguing events, not to mention what seemed to be technical inconsistencies.

What a long errand that section of relieving my stress was. All in the name of propriety; it's usually best to first leave the baggage behind.

Although I couldn't say that finally knowing what I needed to know provided orgasmic satisfaction in being emancipated from bogging questions since it was more of a relief than a revelation which cleanses me from lingering reservations and purifies me to be of apostolic devotion, it would be remiss of me not to appreciate what Kaiba stands for in a more thematic standpoint.

Any theme around the matters of the soul can easily find their way through my sensibilities and repose from the warm reception and service. Kaiba is no exception with its indulging in memories, something very much a prey under my fixated gaze. It's a whirlwind to try to expound upon it due to the compact link it has on everything else, but I'll do my best.

The past is what created us, each present is meant for us to create something for our future: A back-and-forth dance between creator and creation that will inevitably land on the castle of memories. A poetic idea to think about. Since memories from what Kaiba asserts are practically what composes our soul and what gives substance to our existence, dabbling on the concept already touches on our overall humanity in every movement of the pen.

Yuasa in candid and creative fashion criticizes the raw objectification of the flesh which has spawned like a swarm due to the memory chip innovation that can extract memories from the body, leaving it to be a mere toy for the people in power's pleasure, such as Chroniko's buyer and many other pedophiles. Another good example of misusing technological advancements is the town of Abipa becoming a "Land of Paradise" in a manner that defiles itself, where they cast off their original essences to become nothing but delectable snacks for one another through Patch's bio-copy technology. It mirrors the recent trends of AI as a tool for generating pornographic material which can even tarnish the bodies of real-life human beings. One interesting character which practices the same criticized behavior is Vanilla, who throughout the episodes was set up to achieve a sort of redemption by sacrificing himself to save Kaiba (in Chroniko's body), fully knowing his feelings, whether sexually motivated or romantically nurtured, were unrequited. His journey was interesting for being a vessel to present the distinction (or maybe harmony) between sex and romance, especially when taking into consideration the characteristics of his masculinity; I made a separate brief writeup for it. It was simply interesting how he becomes a more sympathized figure with glorified sequences by the conclusion of his screentime.

The commodification of memory is the commodification of the body. In treating either and each as mere resource that can be exploited, both victim and perpetrator become more deviated from humanity.

What becomes of the King of Memories then? This is the perfect segue to talk about Kaiba.

Protagonists are written to be the embodiment of a story's main theme. That is a given. I gotta say, it still doesn't hinder awe and appreciation of Kaiba's concept as a copy of the Warp line of memory kings.

Despite being a copy, Kaiba eventually achieves a more comfortable sense of individuality--he becomes his own person. What he does with his endless ocean of memories separates him from every other Warp that came before him as well as the last two after him. Although he didn't live the life of the First Warp who was poisoned by his mother, he was still as affected, amplifying the impact of external influences. By the help of Neiro shedding light to the truth of his past, Kaiba and the world were saved from complete eradication.

In having the mother become Warp's greatest grievance, he becomes a figure that symbolizes a dissonance from the natural state of being. We are brought into this world by our mothers, and Warp's creator handing out an attempt of mercy killing started the madness.

I believe the existence of memory tanks, the memory chip, the authentic Warp copying technology, and the dynasty was for civilization not to suffer what the first Warp had via inheritance issues. Normalizing absurdity also lessens discrimination to the outliers like Warp. There will be no siblings fighting each other, no mothers and fathers killing their children over the continuation of rule, if Warp rules by himself throughout the generation.

Things went out of control with society's misuse of the invention, with the electrolytic cloud allowing Warp to escape from the bad memories of the Old Palace (which caused a ripple effect dividing the rich and the poor), with Evil Warp cursing his fellow Warp as if mirroring his progenitors' act, with the Final Warp advocating unequivocal escape to the land of death, and this makes Warp's and by extension Kaiba's tragedy a colossal one. That every Warp stays infantile (with their age appearance sometimes an indication of their mental state, mostly for the Final Warp) speaks loudly of how they couldn't move on from the past and have stunted their growth because of it. Not to mention Kaiba's hole in the chest, an overt sign of his despair.

Funny enough, the word Kaiba is more famous for being the legendary plant who swallows memories to grow. Neiro gave it to the protagonist for a reason contrary to that entity, being like a reborn baby (due to the amnesia) who has sharp memory that can instead swallow Neiro's pain and has the neverending possibility to grow.

On that note, let's talk about parallels. Kaiba and Neiro's first meeting resembles so much like a mother and her child. The resemblance becomes uncanny by Kaiba's behavior of someone who just got birthed, being rather wordless at the start, rather curious, uninhibited, and even imitating some of Neiro's mannerisms. Episode 10 henceforth changed my view of their relationship to something attaching...Freudian suggestions. The parallels continue with Neiro twice preventing Kaiba from being poisoned via drink, both times with her as the instrument to deliver the toxic potion, whereas the First Warp's mother let her son drink it by herself. Uncanny positioning and framing at episode 12 fortifies the comparison, which is appropriate because now a mother-like figure has given this child a more optimistic view of life as a whole, now being able to reconcile with his memories due to the truth discovered by Neiro. And for Neiro, who is parentless, now is in the position of a nurturer (I apologize for the mother-child relating for anyone who has reached this portion of the reflection and sees them as partners, can't help it, I see their relationship in a less romantic way). (https://imgur.com/UOZiTak)

Kaiba has come a long way from his many past lives, and from changing bodies in order to survive. The episodic content were highly entertaining segments to build the interesting fantasia world, but each also hold contributions to the overarching plot. The stuffed toy era signifies Kaiba after the removal of his memories, unable to talk, with Hyo-Hyo in the same avenue of lackluster communication. Chroniko and Negi's relationship is a reflection of First Warp and his mother's, but the daughter, with memories sold, remained fond of her mother despite the sacrifices she herself needed to make for her brothers; Negi's lamentations symbolize Hal's regrets over trying to end the misery of her son, left with nothing but deep-seated emptiness and a gaping reminder that the past had been paradise. Patch's doctor inhabiting a non-human creation in the form of Quilt is much like Hal with the body of a chicken; Patch is a leader of the ingenious bio-copy technology much like Warp invented the memory manipulation idea. The tower episode further demonstrates appreciation of one another, and the preservation of treasured memories. Although the rather standalone episodes offered the better experience to me personally, realizing their significance to the main plot starting at episode 8 remedies many of my gripes.

After a tumultuous series of occurrences (I never even touched Popo specifically, but well he already blends with parts of the reflection as a manipulated individual who was made to mistake becoming great from simply being a healthy person due to her mother's words being edited by Dada, the latter turning into a robot scrapped by her son, and ending with the on-the-spot acceptance of complete universal destruction with only his and Cheki's memories stored), we are left with an empty slate: strangers without recollection of who they are reaching out to grasp another person's hand as if by instinct so as to concentrate the importance of harmony from the very start of birth, the electrolytic cloud diffused, the legendary plant Kaiba warded off, and Neiro and Kaiba finally able to live together.

It begs the question: What will happen next? Will Kaiba and Neiro become eternal beings by preserving their existence through constantly transferring their memories into different bodies? Or will they accept the equal sentence of the Reaper with open arms? I believe they will, knowing the repercussions of memory transfer in history. And now that they have both accepted what they have done wrong, perhaps they will together herald a new beginning of society, which now safeguards dignity and free will, and pass on their legacy to suitable souls.

I really don't want to rate this series, but posting things here necessitates it. Still, no matter what quantified value sticks out like a thumb amidst this wall of text, I cherish this one-of-a-kind experience watching Kaiba through the episodes and thoroughly eliciting my realizations upon finishing the show, and no number can win over this fruitful journey.

*Begin in the future*

~~

Modern animation for a story almost 40 years old already, and a prequel at that. One can't help but be in awe at the longevity seemingly exhaustless for the Gundam franchise. I get spawning shows casting different characters from different timelines or Sides, or another sort of universe if there are (I wouldn't put it past them) across the years due to the inherent expanse of the series, but revisiting the origins from such a long time ago and amassing more important details so as to increase its breadth is quite simply a power move. A fresh new look for the ancestral ... narrative, The Origin offers vibrance (at times coming off as comical, thus out-of-place) and clarity for the fleshed-out history of the One-Year War.

The Principality of Zeon always had that air of intrigue around them solely for the sinister halo encircling the Zabi family. That Char and Sayla both also hail from Zeon adds further substance to that party. Of course, not to forget Ramba Ral and Hamon, too, who were both blessed by elucidation. That is to say, Zeon has been far more interesting than the Earth Federation, and I am glad that they were given special focus here. It is proper as well to approach the prequel like that, for it makes more sense to present the origin of the conflict in the eyes of the antagonistic element, so to speak.

The Origin made it clearer that even the common people of Side 3 disagrees with the colonizers; there is always a different perspective in conflicts. Succeeding then were the plans of the Zabi family to ascend as rulers utilizing the voices of the masses, winning their hearts with resistance, though not without underlying motives of their own. Tides have stirred and we're made witness to political dramas during sensitive times.

One thing that had me satisfied with this season is the inclusion of "war guilt". As Vice Admiral, Dozle assumes one of the authoritative positions commanding a large population of soldiers. I always thought he had the purest heart among his family of snakes and glory-blind immatures, like the trope of a large brute with a soft heart. Indeed, sentimentality was in him when he was the only one who had shown vulnerability enough to have a family of his own amongst his siblings. As a sort of climax to his character was his guilt after carrying out Gihren's plan, that Side 2 catastrophe which killed half of the population. He showed extreme signs of regret, hesitance, doubt in the humanity of the plan. But right after that breakdown, in the majesty of his kid, he was made to be convinced that war is about protecting families by crushing others, that fault shall not be found in the blood of his hands but in the blood of the fallen. Somehow or another, he had to reconcile with the fact that he was also responsible for the greatest disaster of mankind to date, and his brain distorted his views to block out feelings of guilt by equipping such a mindset.

See, I am glad for that showcase of guilt. It was something so essential within the Zabi family, for it shows that there is still that common humanity found somewhere from at least one person in that unit, though it did become inevitably spoiled. The theme of how family must be conserved is evocative in Gundam, more so it must be in the Zabi family. To Dozle, this war is to protect his family, thus he abides in the theme in a twisted way. It is quite the same with Zeon's Sovereign; he treats his children with love, especially Garma as the youngest, and laments at the unfolding of Gihren's sullied heart endangering the country with his god-complex-powered whims, Zeon being deemed as Degwin's family himself too. Kycilia, well, she's still enigmatic to me. Though she's in cahoots with Gihren in many schemes, and presumably instigated the murder of Sasro their brother, she deemed it the pits of despicableness that Gihren had no care for the life of their father, moving her to kill her eldest brother in Season 1. Lastly, Garma, well he wants to be validated as a child of nobility, taking tunnel-vision means outside morality to childishly preserve his family's honor.

Outside the Zabis, there is natural love for one's family in the likes of the Deikuns. It extends to found affectations for Teabolo, the Aznables, and even one's own pet. The relationship of Amuro and Tem, too, was given emphasis as one sort of rough in quality time. There is warmth, then there is loss, opting Sayla to eventually realize that Zeon and the Earth Federation are madmen no different from one another. Everyone is taking away something important to them.

On the topic of the Deikuns I should finally talk about Char, who is actually not Char because Char was only someone else that looks like him. Casval Rem Deikun, Edouard Mass, Char Aznable--many identities for a standout character.

I want to highlight his character arc as a soldier of Zeon. It makes Char more mysterious when we aren't granted access to his inner thoughts in his interactions with the Zabi family, specifically Dozle and Garma (and for that matter I don't think the creators ever showed what was going on inside his mind explicitly). Especially during the times he was close with Garma, there were snippets radiating suspense, the tension felt by the viewers unaware for the prey. Such direction heightens intrigue on the true motivations of Casval. What did he feel being under the command of Dozle, being praised as the hero of Zeon? His countenance showed no sign at all of the deep-seated hatred he must have on his family. Instead, he was obedient, no fang bared.

About that, I just had some misgivings when as young Casval he declared to Kycilia that he'll make the Zabis bow down to him, but he himself was absent in the deaths of Degwin, Gihren, and Dozle. He seemed less of a vengeful spirit because of that. Well, though he offed Kycilia and Garma in one way or another through his involvement, "letting them bow down" is different from taking their lives, for the former preserves the objects' existences only for the sake of subjugation. I guess I'll need to watch Zeta and the following UC seasons first to truly understand his actions. I guess Newtypes really are first and foremost for him.

Some other things I want to write out just in bullets.

- I mentioned earlier that sometimes the anime was comical, making it out-of-place. The attitude of character movement seemed out of a slice-of-life comedy which made victim even lieutenants of the army. I'm just more used to the army being rigid that this fluidity unnerved me to the end. We have high-ranking officials acting like caricatures, and the majority of others following suit in almost cartoony fashion. I don't know, I just couldn't get used to this in Gundam. It's like it didn't take itself seriously. The vibrance permeates throughout, which I'm glad of as it makes it an easier watch--I mean everything is lively and expressive in times of joy and grief, making it a more emotional show giving a breath of fresh air to the dreariness of Season 1, and adding grandiosity to the likes of Gihren sells him out surely, but still I can't justify for the team need of its affixing to the general cast.

Another gripe from a passing thought: why does the EFSF not have a Char, or someone similar to him? I get that he's a prodigious Newtype, and we have Amuro, sure, but really they have no other notable pilots. Zeon has the Tri-Black Star at the very least. Earth has Amuro of course, then I guess Hayato, Kai, and Sayla? Maybe they should count. Tianem and Revil aren't pilots, so I'm excluding them. That is to say, names are more glorified on the other side. The sheer number of the EFSF must harbor some big names. Eh, it doesn't really matter.

These don’t really take away a lot of my enjoyment, just a bugging discomfort.

- There is much implication of spirituality in the series. Deikun was spouting a lot of arcane things in his first appearance, and he really is treated as if he had a divine possession. He mentioned Gaia, which is a primordial god in mythology. There is Gihren and his god complex. There is Degwin mentioning Cain and Abel. There is Char saying that the second act of the war after Revil intervened in the Antarctic peace talks is one without God. Newtypes have a very transcendental hue to them. I'm interested in what they have in store for this.

Sayla's consecutive losses was just sad. She's such a strong girl, more than she is given credit for.
And I guess that's it.

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin fulfilled its duties decently. There were no plotholes I have noticed--the team truly was meticulous in seamlessly threading together the narrative despite the large gulf between the years. Due respect was given indeed. I had fun with this, it is always a joy knowing how the story unfolded in reverse chronology. I got answers, the civilians were given focus, and still some questions, though they serve as magnetic entities luring me to the next phases of my watch experience.

*Mishaps Upon Misguided Minds: The Zero-Sum Game*

~~

!! SPOILER-FILLED REVIEW !!

~~

It’s Christmas season and harmony is what it’s all about. The jolly holidays pull away the wreckage sites orchestrated by the vices of war to give more notice to the child-like air, playful despite the mischief. War in the Pocket took many steps away from the endless show of carnage of 0079 to bond with other avenues covered during war times. A refreshing change of pace in aesthetics, setting, character motivations, and musical motif exposed the creativity contained within the Gundam universe.

I can imagine that at that time, the Gundam fad had reached significant heights considering ... how undeniably awesome the very idea and look of mecha is, especially back then in the relatively early phases of its conception. Plenty of mobile suit designs should have been materialized into merchandise figurines. It would not be surprising to assume that the flashy fights and cool-ass robots and futuristic technology had its anti-war nature flow away over many people’s heads (and at the very least, the first season didn’t take as much liberties to place consistent spotlights on the disastrous effects of full-blown feuds).

In comes this 6-episode OVA having kids glorify war, perhaps a consequence to the peace of Side 6, the 10-year-old half of the dual protagonists cast directly, actively, willingly participating on excursions for Zeon’s cause due to its being the peak of entertainment and nothing else (a dream come true for a boy playing shooting games). Why, it must be play at its finest for children! The show retains Al’s engaged positive spirits by intentionally detracting away from the aftereffects of death until the very last episodes, merely reducing casualties into plain numbers, while merry and lighthearts blanket snuggly. The townspeople carry on about their days and it seems like unrest was non-existent at the infliction of the neutral Side’s battle scars. OP and ED work in tandem to grip the watcher within smothering leisure.

And yes, it does not serve to be against the show’s quality. Rather, it builds to the conviction towards a state of life untouched by ruin. While it does that, it is cheeky in presenting the misguided views of people towards the golden sheen of steel. The subdued yet warm flames within the hearth that is War in the Pocket manifests as a call to foster such environments and denounce the zero-sum game adults forced everyone to play.

Staging characters of opposing factions become obliviously attracted to one another simply because of human nature activating was brilliant to prove the point. In the end, authorities dictate the flow of conflict, and underlings can’t help but go against people they could have had amiable relationships with, fighting each other to the death just to survive. Running away and fighting head-on both incur casualties, Chris said. Therein lies a woeful struggle in this sort of societal conflict. The hammer to the nail was the ending when Chris and Bernie no longer had to fight in order to protect their loved ones. Result: the admired unknowingly killed her admirer, bereaving her neighbor who must have been too young to even properly process what has happened. Now Al knows how devastating war must be, and how it is a different kind of game adults play like every human life is but a chess piece and every weapon is a toy, something his close friends still have not been made to understand. A crying Al does not need a continuation of spectacles and buried treasures. What he needs is the nightmare of children his age: the mundane, ordinary life.

A rather short piece, yet a satisfying one within the Gundam universe. War in the Pocket is a most relevant story which has energized my interest in the franchise, sat me beside the simplicity of media wonderfully, and blessed me with ✨ 80s anime vibes ✨. Indeed, an enjoyable show.

Say, are you a traveler?

Do you drift between little worlds, are you a creature set in open motion? Are you an outsider, a mere observer unfettered by the obligatory laws of attachment? How must it feel to be unbound and dictating your own freedom grounded by a sturdy principle of self-preservation? Please, tell me your stories.

I am like a citizen of some country at some corner susceptible to intake the chronicles of every outsider as indelible imprints to my meager life. Perhaps you feel the same instead; our kind who shoulders the sanctity of community through settlement make up the brunt of the population. Thankfully ... we can be like travelers now, within the world of fiction.

Included in the package is the right to insert ourselves as the main character themselves. Intriguing, however, that pomposity does not hold the greatest sway. But we are backdrops with a telescope and withheld visitors with the same capacity of change, and by consequence victims to philosophical musings, by choice to the beauty of the world.

~~

Primarily a dive-in to assorted hypotheticals playing around human ideals, tradition, and general way of life, Kino's Journey is a first-person walkthrough in a quest-less, seemingly endless adventure on the road. I say "first-person" because of how the titular character is intentionally arranged to be inclined against participation of any sort of town-(re)building by her being rather devoid of attachment to societal concerns unless forced to act or through caprice (and having caprice means she has her moral systems, too).

Many times she is unpredictable. Some of her actions (and inactions) were questionable. But this works for the engagement of the audience as we could easily fit into the vessel of the main character who has a quiet reactionary expression and an ambiguous judgment such that varying opinions or the lack thereof are welcomed. And as she acts on self-preservation, policing becomes futile. The last episode shows that chance practically saved her life when the citizens of The Kind Land threw away theirs out of ego. Attachment to the country almost killed Kino, and from then on it was her principle to not stay anywhere for more than 3 days in fear that she might cease to be a traveler. Her best advice to any adventure then boiled down to caution in order to not lose their own lives, therefore self-preserving. In that sense, many watchers can be the traveler and Hermes by extension.

I must admit, taking in the mindset of an observer without obligation to anyone aside from respect was a refreshing sort of feeling: just witnessing the various countries be, having a jolt at Kino's few interventions, perhaps being pulled to certain judgmental emotions as values must be inclined to ask of us, although letting it flow to the oceanic conclusion that "the world just is, therefore it is beautiful" as is the brave assertion of the series.

And why is it beautiful when most episodes comprise of tragedy? Why, with all the massacre, the conflicts, the sorrows that breed the ugly thoughts which drive human beings to a winding road towards devastation, can it be considered beautiful? Kino's Journey does not hesitate providing instances wherein the usual notion of beauty is seemingly desecrated to end up claiming that its slogan still holds true, and that it can only achieve greater heights of truth in so doing.

We're descending into ruminative realms with this one. Kino's Journey appeals to the viewers that beauty is inherently attached to existence. And because the world exists, so it is "beautiful", and no terrible thing can find faults against that claim. It is a wonder that such a complicated thing exists to home billions of equally complex lives and non-lives with an innate ability for cohesion and cohabitation. Maybe that the world offers an endless stream of sensation, an endless road of experience, and an endless diversity of thought and action, where anything can happen, constitutes the sanctity of Beauty as wife to Being. And Kino, in her many travels permitting her closest audience to the workings of the world that is housing society and nature and the in-betweens, with the clearest look on the bigger picture with all its ornamental blemishes and decencies, can be a carrier of story's core theme. The journey allows for achievement of the self's reconciliation to the unpredictability of existence by anchoring oneself to a claim that resides within the spectrum of optimism. This may be one of the reasons why Kino continues traveling. It is appealing to the recalibration of perspective which is more hospitable to the "good" than the "bad" and accepting to what "is". The message becomes more resonating when Kino is also at most risk of letting the "bad things" get to her, but she all the same remained on the road.

~~

Traveling takes you to many places. Kino sometimes has a clear decision on where she wants to go (like if Hermes needed a fixer, or if hearsays in the wind caught her attention). Other times her voyage is spontaneous (episode 5's ending with Kino and Hermes choosing either the left or right road). Either way, direction is essential and having it derailed can be upsetting. Now of course detours are not reduced in grace through this, but the series doesn't really talk about that concept, so we'll leave that for now. I brought this up because in the beginning of episode 5, Kino says that she doesn't like riding in the forest as it makes it easy to go in the wrong direction.

I find that interesting. Well, I found the whole episode among the most interesting ones, especially with this specific question being repeatedly asked to Kino: "Traveler, where are you headed to?"

Directions make destinations reachable. In not wanting to be led to wrong directions, it must then mean that Kino wants to reach her destination. The destination being, the next country. But inevitably, confrontations occur through simple yet striking questions that step above a few or so levels from base thought and action to reach a degree apt to be donned as "ultimate". It was so penetrating that it rendered Kino speechless with a look that screams drowning in a sea of realizations and uncertainties.

So really, where is Kino headed to? Where do travelers end up being? Everyone knows the answer, really, that the journey itself is the destination.

Unlike those three old men working on the rails due to external employment, eternally waiting for the call of the authorities on the conclusive verdict, Kino acts upon her own self's affinity towards traveling which led her away from the doom that was being physically wired to be a robotic adult in her hometown. There is strong emphasis on the significance of doing what you want to do and being where you want to be. Indeed, the three workers did what they needed to do, which can also be categorized as a want since it brings them satisfaction working at the expense of their loved ones. In that we cannot reduce their quality as human beings (and who are we to be official judges of such?), though we cannot deny that utter submission leaves a blind spot. But what we may extract if we compare them to Kino is the agency she is lucky to have seized for herself. As much as they will never stop undoing each other's hard work, so too will Kino never stop living to travel.

Thus, going to the wrong direction, i.e., not being where she wants to be, not doing what she wants to do, is irksome. The forest will pose to be a challenge for the traveler. I go back, however, that I was interested in such notion, and I was gloriously satisfied holding on to that bit of statement when that bomb of a last episode dropped.

Recontextualizations abounded with the trip to The Kind Land. It brought a brand new layer of depth to Kino's life from birth. It was a most transformative experience for Kino, one which had her firmly stick to her principle of self-preservation.

What that episode did was a trick of inspired similarity and opposition. Basically it portrays Kino's life in another angle, making the direct comparison potently enriching especially being situated at the end of the anime's journey. Things we can relate to and draw comparisons from our lives become that much more connecting, don't they?

I say these because it is important that The Kind Land is what it is after knowing its origin as a country built upon the forest. The people's customs even render service to nature as a form of respect to their roots. Whereas the forest is the community of the citizens, where they settled upon even after knowing the catastrophe, the forest for Kino is an element misleading direction. The forest is where those people decided to set their whole life's chart on; Sakura even declined her parents' telling her to travel with Kino, but in the same end result as her them, she was determined to stay, for it is her dream to tour travelers around her country and give them moments most unforgettable. The forest is the direction which leads her to her destination: still within the forest. But for Kino it is different and her world resides elsewhere.

One other detail which played a part on this idea's stage is the gunsmith's passing onto Kino his prized gun named "Person of the Forest" (or "Woodsman" in other translations). It serves as a remembrance of Kino's time with the people of the forest, and as she now is transferred ownership with it, also, as it were, bestows upon her the same denomination. As a person of the forest, she must take the endless challenge of being swayed towards directions she doesn't want to be thrown into. The dichotomy of her occupation and her metaphoric citizenship marks the beautiful duality of the world being not beautiful at times yet consequently leading itself to beauty. With this, we have Kino, a traveler of endless forests filled with uncertain obstacles, unfettered by obligation yet bounded still by the afflictions of suffering, commonly unparticipative but life-changing all the same, journeying for the sake of it to experience at its personal fullest the sights of the beautiful world, alive and functional despite the chaos it is fraught with, accompanied by her trusty sentient motorrad (it is no use to question why it can talk, for it simply can, and the world, again, just is). It takes two to create a world. Creators can't live without each other. The symbiosis of Kino and Hermes carries on the memory of the country built on that forest, and together they become keepers of the lives that once were.

...or at least, that was my interpretation powered mainly by poetic motivation.

~~

At the last parts of this review/reflection I should dedicate it to a sort of wrap-up of my thoughts. Kino's Journey is solid to the core with its intention, never going astray from its own convictions. It creatively utilizes the potentials of fiction by leading us through vignettes of hypothetical countries and encounters which always have something to say or at least open up for self-reflection. I should never forget that its storytelling methods were very refreshing, notably the episode in The Land of Books. With a distinct feel delivered through enigmatic and nostalgic music as well as complementarily muted "vibes" and sepia-dominant tones to its visuals, and a present-centric mindset, Kino's Journey stunts you with newfound or resurfacing thoughts as travelers take stops to take in foreign or sometimes familiar air.

*Progenitors walk so their descendants can run (I hope they'll run)*

~~

All due respect is given to this revolutionary title without second thought. One would basically be living under a rock were they unknowing of the breadth and depth of its success. No matter what I say here, it wouldn't ever touch its reputation. These are merely ramblings of a random person who thinks the very origin of the franchise feels inadequate in and of itself (final opinion should never be cemented in individual seasons comprising a whole, and it should never be taken too seriously when someone finds faults predominant in a certain part; practicing ... giving the benefit of the doubt while acknowledging the current state of affairs is the way to go), and I would be hard-pressed to believe otherwise when things are only getting started in the grand scheme of things, at least I hope it is.

Mobile Suit Gundam's length and its neverending series of battles actually finds strong defense against people who find it dragging and repetitive: it shares to the viewers the weariness of the White Base crew. As a type of war which has seen skyrocketing casualties in the span of around nine months, the first of it already having cut the global population in half, it is an essential step to dedicate time in staying put in the battlefield. Especially effective is the fatigue felt when our crew is filled with teenagers, unseasoned soldiers, regular civilians, or a mixture of the three, who have little idea on what they are doing. Not to mention that their victories rewarded them with more work. It was something else feeling like the episodes were a drag and yet being aware that this is but a drop of the exhaustion the main cast has been undergoing through.

What I perceived it has done, however, in focusing on the wasting of human lives instantaneously like a flicker, is neglect the worlds under and above the surface of human life itself.

Although it fulfilled its job of presenting the aftereffects of a world war: in causing the death of loved ones (Frau Bow's); providing vision to a widow's emotions; displaying the complete eradication of natural habitats; showing the existence of refugee camps; soldiers blinded by pursuit of valor and forsaking morality; generating loss and separation (Kai, Mirai, and Ryu); conflicting the relationship of once innocent people (Char and Sayla); sourcing the desire to retire and repay one's debts (Cucuruz Doan); the despondence of a mother upon witnessing her son participating in the cold war (Amuro and his mother); perpetuating the cycle of hatred (Amuro and Icelina); among few more things, it fails to hammer me with the hopelessness, the unkindness, the utter evil of human nature that it implied was the universal impression from the replayed recitations summarizing Universal Century 0079.

Zeon's condescension is an appropriate response to the burgeoning population as the antagonistic faction, yes. At the very least their ideology foils, making it thematically relevant. But I am yet to be convinced of their fervor to enact domination and superseding this model of mankind for superior ones without any reason for it--a "just-is" action cannot work for me here. A promising premise turns empty without support. By that same logic, the presentations I mentioned on the above paragraph lack profound substance if not used to install weight upon the gravity of the global crisis.

After fleeing Side 7 after its devastation, I understand that the people were suspended in tension enough to go through the first battles. However, it seemed so disturbing that Frau Bow did not so much as exhibit reactions one would be forced to show in response to such grievous loss. She lost her family, but she, an ordinary human being, seemed just fine after all of it, save the short instance of paralysis? She had the children and Amuro to cope up with the loss, but even then, it felt psychologically impairing were I to be in her shoes.

What was the purpose of Kai having his own little arc if he still remained the same as before? More eagerness to bring down Zeon shown in his better combat performance? The effect seemed minute and insubstantial that it can just be traced to his common behavior before the ordeal, rather than a concrete reason for some sort of development.

The same holds true with Amuro after he left his mother on Earth. What were the consequences of that event? His mother was not even mentioned after that, and there were more than a half of the anime left. One would have thought something so depressing as that would have left its mark to be frequently remembered, but Amuro was as coarse, as inept to sensibility like always. Pity when the imagery during the farewell was verily striking. I insert that episode on Cucuruz Doan's island where they talked about the beauty of transience in the midst of an era where the world is a graveyard. Keen notice of ephemera is indeed a movement to sit upon; such a beautiful inclusion!...until it's left to dust like the others. It's like the team felt that they have done their job to impact the audience and did not find the need to re-acknowledge it by layering it with more substance thereafter.

External elements away from the White Base crew, including the widow, the destruction of habitats, the refugee camp, the retired soldier, lacked a jarring element as a stimuli to elicit dread. Pieces were placed on the puzzle, but it felt so little in comparison to the magnification of metal battles. Through Gundam's establishment of 0079's state of humankind as something at the pits of favorability due to the massive scale of the war, it is a must to fortify the claim by making it so abundantly evident that people really are suffering. As it is, it lacked the emotional manipulation which would have made it believable. Maybe the foremost intent is the showcasing of choreographic mecha battles--I'm sold on that, for sure. I'm just left to want something more.

Moving outside the confines of battle once again, we find drama strutting through the grounds. How wonky everything regarding Mirai was. I thought her and Bright had a thing together. Then in a beat she was smitten by the lieutenant? Nothing short of cheesy was the four-way romance centering Mirai, and I really wished they didn't include that at all, or at least took the lieutenant from the equation.

Speaking of Bright, there were hints that he likes Sayla after all. Really, what was him and Mirai all about?

In relation to abrupt surprises we have Lala risking her life for Char for reasons that he was her savior...But how did he save her, is the question that was never answered at all. A gaping hole precludes the holistic formation of her character, which is sad because she indeed was the most intriguing addition to the story as a newtype.

Ah, yes, newtypes. It's a perfect segue to discuss about it. I'm actually quite invested in this major turning plot point because it explains Amuro's miraculous stand-off against Char in his first battle. We were led to believe it was all the Gundam's computer doing all the work, elevating its innovation to the highest highs when it could even carry an amateur fighting against one of the best pilots, and it was great in order to concentrate on mecha as an evolved weapon, as well as its connection to the pilots deploying it (the age old sentiment being man is humanity's best tool). And it turns out, Amuro had the potential to be superhuman from the beginning. Char, too, but his awakening is more delayed.

Not much detail is published on newtypes. The first season properly built up on it though despite announcing it on the final stretches. It achieved a level of excitement for Zeta. Indeed I little qualms at its addition. Lack of foreshadowing was an issue. The first Gihren speech was wrought with pretense of Zeon being the "good" nation in painting the Earth Federation as an oppressor. The second and final one, in raising morale before the siege against A Baoa Qu, exclaimed his true goal to the public: to only retain the superior breed of mankind. I don't think it helps the Zabi sovereignty when Gihren switches standing like that, from it being a justified war against evil to straight-up sweeping the planets off unwanted species. As such, that really wasn't a smart thing to do, but in the end the soldiers were all in for it for some reason. Of course the civilians never had their time to be in the spotlight.

These were the problems I've been riddled with in my watching experience. There is a lot to want; I haven't even touched Casval and Artesia's siblinghood. As for the positives, I actually have enjoyed both music and visuals. I did not feel production was an issue when the anime didn't play itself as so deficient in those departments given the era of its creation. Most noteworthy is that one image of Amuro's fierce face infused by the waves of Lala's influence, with her on the center. Such creative presentation which would have made me an instant faithful apostle of the franchise were I to see it in times prior to this version of how I look media, and were I not already hooked by the mobile suit fights. Those episodes were fitting of its cosmic setting, having reach throughout the edges of its scope. Mobile Suit Gundam would have been remiss to forego involvement of good ol' fate and destiny in the spiritual conversation between Amuro and Lala. Enough said, I was all in for it, and I will most certainly carry this sentiment as I continue through this dense franchise.

*War, soap opera, dogs, and testosterone*

~~

!! SPOILER-FILLED REVIEW !!

~~

Ginga is a shooting star without the majesty clothed by the glow of its epithet, an eventual meteorite causing a wreckage of my stargazing.

As a 1986 show (which is relatively old in my book), I thought I would add in more leniency when reflecting upon the experience of sitting through a crudely directed 21-episode anime of hundreds of wild talking dogs killing each other to finally kill a couple of bears that number less than the episode count, but I confirmed that the same studio released Dragon Ball in the same year, and Takahata's adaptation of Anne ... of Green Gables seven years prior. That is to say, all intent to excuse the poorly-made decisions laden in the show was thrown out of the window when its peers and superiors have far exceeded the canine mania in all accounts. Age is not a barrier to excellence after all, just like how Gin's status as a young pup defied all odds and all his elders nonetheless.

Disillusionment reigned when the legendary (I dub it so) opening and piercingly nostalgic ending song that sandwiched a powerful set of beginning episodes were betrayed by its contents as they slowly slob into an unpalatable mess. Ginga brought in fate and destiny in a man's world, opened up an avenue for creativity in collaborative action between a human and his bear dog against adversaries, brewed an adorable protagonist with incredible rescue, problem-solving, battle, and leadership intellect--as close to perfection as he should to provide due to his tiger-striped destiny (genetics), and situated enough crumbs on the ground for the viewer to be seduced to its consumption. There was plenty for me to be kept locked into immersion between my immense dislike of Grampa, the development of Gin and Daisuke's relationship, the advent of John as an impetus for Gin's desire to be something more, the fervor scented with testosterone sweat so thick in that village air, the moral weight of the hunt, and the looming threat of Akakabuto who indeed felt like a mountainous obstacle. I was so ready to put myself in stereotypical gender norms and become a youthful fellow very masculine and thirsty for honor, pride driving my wheels in a dog eat dog planet (I was reading Little Women on the side as well. Unintentionally squeezed by both the ascribed "feminine" and "masculine" auras simultaneously was entertainment to another level LOL). I was raring to go and floor it, but man did my energy grow lax.

Shoddy direction was the main culprit. Starting from the dog recruitment arc around the 9th episode, the cracks began to show.

~~

You can't expect diplomacy from dogs. Even fiction couldn't leash their instincts to resist hostility, so I've no qualms about the way every stop boils down to a clash one way or another. I can't, however, be captured by the conflict when the conflict is aggravatingly repetitive and often just for the sake of it: Ben's platoon seeks peaceful negotiations but the recruitees oppose due to a very dumb misunderstanding of the situation and thinking the Ou dogs colonizers. And sometimes even, there is melodrama that plays out (that gets easily moved on from) which just feels so out-of-place and awkwardly executed, it's like I'm watching an evening soap opera flick, but with dogs! I do not mind how when Benizakura died the blood on the lake formed a perfect sakura flower to resemble the old doggo though. Ginga is so unserious sometimes I can't bear to hate on this male poetics.

Speaking of death, a notable one, truly much more notable than Riki and Akatora's deaths, is Terry's. Yes, Terry, that 5th platoon commander who only appeared for one or two episodes and whose demise became a huge enough deal for his name to be echoed in the chambers of a golden chapel resounding in the lamentations of a holy choir whose enemies even chimed in to howl for his passing like the memorable, irreplaceable character that he is. In fact, neither Akatora nor Riki, the damn boss, even had that treatment. Truly, Terry was the greatest loss they ever had.

How quickly the developments were on those episodes though, as is everything else past episode 8. It's like the team just wanted to get it done and over with, never mind processing the recurrent bloodfest between wild dogs. One really can't tell a prophecy on their behavior for they oscillate between discipline and rabidness, between full-fledged warmongering and reconciled peacemaking. One would think they can be a bit more restrained due to the strong value and virtue system they all (most) apparently share as a species, and one would think they would be more mindless of the consequences as animals do. Instilling complex human emotions to essentially anthropomorphize the dogs without properly solidifying the ratio of dogness and humanness is wonky writing that ruins the brunt of every canine's substance.

Right, where's the balance here? It really took a huge 180 upon scrapping every human character there ever was and focusing mainly on the dogs, deciding upon this route without much consideration of how much of it as a fictional story should be taken as such. For one, it has dogs with special techniques passed on just through genes without any instruction, spinning around like a drill with their fangs on, moving faster than the speed of light, and becoming literal flying saucers that can snap Goliath's head off. It's funny just thinking about it in and of itself and I love it, but it doesn't really fit well with its own realism. Cohesiveness took its leave. Even for a fictional story it's important to leash one's freedom when in the first place they already did so themselves by setting constraints to the world.

As an additional sentiment, the dogs talk too much. They should have omitted an appropriate chunk of talking dialogues and replace it with just barks, growls, whimpers, and other such emotive expressions. Show-and-tell, not tell-and-tell bro. How do dogs sound like when they cry, when they're cornered and afraid? How do they act in a wide array of emotions? They should have used doggo body language at their disposal to convey what the characters are feeling because isn't what they're going for at that point, a dog-only show? A lot of us came in for something dog-y too, for Gin as the poster boy, a dog.

My feelings and thoughts just can't wrap up the mess and make it all make sense. There are too many lapses in production and execution. The action is cool for its fantastical impossibilities, but it wasn't enough to carry me through with a loving eye on the anime. How did Ben come alive after falling down with Sniper? How did Hyena save him, if he did at all? Why hasn't he returned with Ben, someone who should have been so much more in dire straits? Why did the Ou dogs feel like they actually don't care much about their comrades at all, and are shown to be much closer to the new recruits, when they were so tight-knit prior to the merge? Funny how only the heart of the cast is acknowledged, while the supporting subordinates weren't even given much care. Like, for instance, when Smith gets injured, Gin and co lose all their wits. When some other nameless dog gets killed--with utter brutality at times--no one really bats an eye and grieves for them. And really, no dog gets injured enough for treatment unlike Smith, Ben, and other Named because every Nameless dog gets KO'd. Not advocating for more screentime dedicated for each fallen ally, but I do think it should have been basic to allow their deaths to have more noticeable emotional effects.

~~

I guess that's enough for my criticisms. Heading on with the story's intended takeways, I believe the central theme revolves around overcoming fear through courage. Fear is an innate emotion in all living things, one of the most primitive at that. As Grampa once said, the lack thereof is actually not a profitable circumstance nor does it magically remove all of life's obstacles. He recounts a particular bear dog who had no fear at all and eventually ran straight through to his death because of not having any receptors for danger. And so, being numb and blunted in general could very well circle around someone to take away their lives.

No, what's important is gathering courage to work through one's fears. With confidence employed alongside it, great things are surely ahead. Gin's collected temperance allows him to adapt to every situation through assessment of the situation and self-analysis that allows him to gauge the extent of his strengths (majority of the time, at least). His courage earned him the respect of his seniors through defiance of discrimination, enough to be handed the baton of leadership not even more than a year through his birth. This very courage should be possessed by everyone, especially the males in this case. The fact that humans weren't able to gather themselves unlike the compact solidarity of the dogs around Japan that united under one cause that really doesn't affect them at all, is because the men were sitting on excuses and passivity instead such that they didn't give it their all to stop the "tyranny" of Akakabuto who threatened their fellowmen. Unlike the dogs who relished on the honor of repaying gratitude and meting justice upon a villain, the humans didn't concern themselves enough with the situation, only a handful did. It really does tell about our faltering will as opposed to the unbending resolve of the dogs in the show.

We have a lot to learn from our best friends. Let us work on our weaknesses rather than simply twiddling our thumbs and wishing upon a shooting star.

*We've finally reached home base*
(Written last December 11, 2022)

~~

Fitting entry to be a concluding one, Major: World Series celebrates the end of Goro's story as the integral character of the franchise with a bang in the air, with character conclusions here and there, one most notable besides the protagonist is Toshi's as he channels his accumulated trauma into the OP godlike version of his character, giving two grand slams as a parting gift for his husband (real); and as he ties loose ends with his mother (I almost teared up here, Toshi finally faced his trauma and has fully healed), with different fates of characters ... even slightly related intertwining into a single occasion that is the tiebreaking game between Indiana Hornets and the Texas Raiders, all in two 30-minute episodes.

I love how we're passing through so much time, 8 years to be precise. It shows not only the reality of the true length in which goals could be attained, it not only paved way for interesting developments such as Toshi and Mayumura being in the majors and in opposition, but also that, it really feels like the end of a long journey literally from the childhood.

I'd like to talk about the momentous scenes along with some overall thoughts of each important character.
1: Momoko. I cannot fail to give recognition to her as she's literally saved Goro from what could have been a dreary path at the tender age of six. She is such a wonderful soul. She was a teacher and a mother, two of the most important figures of one's personal life. And she gave Goro the love he needed despite him turning out stubborn and arrogant at first. Momoko cares so much for her step-son, despite being a surrogate. And it shows an important message: family could be anyone, even those not related in blood.

2: Kaoru. Harboring love for a dense someone for more than a decade is already hard in and of itself, so I do not blame her doubtful thoughts, need for attention and quality time, and her lack of self-confidence when it comes to being in a relationship with Goro because, Goro's Goro. He's the epitome of a baseball idiot, and no one would be surprised with his density in romance. Plus, he's in America. Long-distance relationships hurt, and we rarely see him contact Kaoru by himself. But he pulls through when he counts, and that's something Kaoru needs to have faith to, which she did, being able to sustain a relationship with a professional major leaguer for more than 8 years. She is someone Goro really needs, one to understand the sensibilities under his rough exterior, as a woman for a man. Her having a family with Goro, and with children at that, fulfills the theme of family as it all goes full circle. She is truly Goro's catcher for life (sorry Toshi). And how highly coincidental it was that Izumi was born on the same day Goro grabbed the World Championship too. Very coincidental.

3: Toshi. I already expressed some of my thoughts on his conclusion as Goro's longest partner-in-crime and in-love. Toshi was rough and unstable for much of early Major, and we have his family issues to thank for that. He was abandoned by his own family, but because of baseball--the gift Goro gave him as a child--he was able to pull through. Due to Goro's invitation, Toshiya's life changed literally. Goro welcomed him to his own abode, the world of baseball. In it, Toshi found his home, a passion he dedicates his time and efforts to, and it became the instrument almost a decade and a half later for him to truly come back to his familial field. Those home runs were profound. Goro could never receive a better set of thank you's for that. In the end, he was able to accept his mother and literally faced her, and that was monumental.

4: Joe Gibson Jr. To my surprise, the true match off was between the Juniors. It resembles the change of generations, as the next pair of beacons in baseball. The whole Gibson Sr. thing was finished in S5, as Gibson accepts his injuries and is told by Goro words of reassurance. Junior had more-than-iffy relationships with his father. In contrast to Goro following Shigeharu's footsteps with radiance, Jr. followed his dad's out of spite and revenge. A fitting contrast of motivations, which makes the protagonist-antagonist framework flexible, as there really isn't a true opposition--there are many interlockings. Junior was an interesting addition to the main cast. At first I absolutely abhorred him and his personality. But overtime, his character proved to be significant for the narrative as the close-aged rival of our protagonist with own aspirations for himself. It was great how we see him accepting his father once again. In the all-too-familiar Major style of father parenting, that of show-don't-tell-like-literally-don't, he still found understanding after a lengthy period. Unrelated but Toshi is a better slugger idc idc, and he's more handsome too.

5: Joe Gibson the Dad(dy): Oh boy, and he turned up to be the coach of the Raiders. The old man just can't keep away from baseball, and goddamn does that do wonders on me. He is the ultimate figurehead alongside Shigeharu, almost equal in importance. I've already expressed much of my thoughts of him since previous seasons, but this time I'll talk more about his character conclusion. I was deceived that he'd do more in S6, and be the final enemy in the World Series, but time bided its time, until he grew old enough to retire and hand over the baton to his son. And because of that, it didn't sit well with me for some days until I finished this. However, it doesn't matter as much (but it still bugs me), because everything he does is an influence to Goro. That's the beauty of Gibson, of The Second Father. He started this story with regret, and although he was on the road of regret due to injury in S5, he was granted comfort by his very own victim. The concept of harm (injury and death) is prevalent in Major. It highlights perseverance and dedication, which are two important qualities for an athlete. But we add to the formula duty and responsibility, the heaviest crosses Gibson bore for like half of his baseball career for the sake of the deceased Honda's family. Gibson resembles all of those qualities, especially endurance. Whether it be of old age or lonesomeness, he continues his duty. And to be absolved of regret like that is such a great moment for him. He doesn't stop being likeable there, as he once again did his fatherly thing, pulling the two juniors outside their slumps. I just, really like how he loves baseball, and the childlike adoration is still present within this old figure. Gibson is the greatest. Gibson is the GOAT. He is a guardian of the mound like Goro, a protector of home base, a real father despite lapses.

6: Goro, Honda & Shigeno. Goro the child and Goro the adult. The son of the Yokohama Blue Oceans' pitcher, and the son of the Yokohama Blue Oceans' pitcher and a professional major leaguer. The world champion. All the same, he is simply Goro, one who was raised in a warm household and understood the value of family connection from his early losses. Baseball was the medium communicating the love and connection he has with his father. As such, he gave the object to people, hoping they'd enjoy it like him. And they all did, thankfully. They all realized the importance of baseball, of this single specimen called Goro Honda/Shigeno indirectly inspiring them to stop dilly-dallying and start pursuing their dreams. Honestly, much of my beef with the series was him being injured and injured all the time, especially in S3 and S4. I still have not resolved my conflicts fully, because I have my own values, but I've already expressed my understanding. From then on, the better writing in part, injuries became a tool to appreciate Goro more, for the same reasons as Gibson as well. His growth, however, made it more heartfelt. I can only imagine how conflicting it is for his nature to balance out between work and rest. But he became successful. He made others successful. He was a star through and through traveling lightyears forwards than a measly 100 mph. It is of no little amount and intensity the obstacles Goro went through in his life, but being equipped by the loving care of Momoko, Chiaki, and Shigeharu early on, he's inevitably capable for everything. In every hurdle, he imparted a gift for the spectators, and that is hope. And from that hope, a sense of home. He doesn't say goodbye, for he lives on everyone, that attainment heightened by being a professional athlete seen by all. Him gaining the world championship title crystallizes all stories into one satisfying conclusion. He now has the world, for him and for all.

Major was a tough ride, I admit. I've confirmed my current state of media due to this, and that is the fact that my taste and outlook has changed. But not for the worse, I don't think. My ratings are not of much importance anymore. The crown is handed to my thoughts--these thoughts, these plentiful thoughts I give even to a 4, a 6, a 7/10. Major is a 7/10 overall. It had abysmal lows and not-too-heavenly highs. But does that overwhelm the many positives I've stated, those which one can trust that I faithfully feel? Are my words for show? Aren't numbers and a handful of words more hurtful? I just pray my praises aren't treated as insults, and that my criticisms not as insults as well. For in the end, I strive to be faithful to the series and to its author. The journey of me biding my time contemplating on the content, taking my time to convey what I feel inside as much as I can, starts with Major. And for that, it shall remain an important franchise for the next stage of my growth.

Disclaimer: My rating for this is limited to this season alone. The ending did not move me much more than this. The effusive lush of excitement from the exchange of sweat and balls was absent in the entirety of the series. I find it unfortunate, but what matters is that I like it and I've received important messages from this. Nonetheless, my score for Major overall is higher.

*Yet to be a homerun, but perhaps a successful two-bases-traversed at-bat*
(Written last November 26, 2022)

~~

What an absolutely major step-up from the past seasons. Finally, the package is starting to unravel the fresher parts of the storyline, a reward from settling down on rock bottom for 50+ episodes.

In America (in Bandit Keith's voice) a new colosseum of dreams where sweaty baseball athletes equipped with balls and gloves on hand to seize and crush ambitions replace the gladiators of the past. All the same, the arena is a cornucopia feasted by the masses. That was one thing that struck to me this season: the sheer entertainment and ... marketing value baseball as a sport possesses especially for the professionals. To not let that lead one astray in-game and off was something I admired the players for. Amidst the disillusionments and excessive praise amassing pressure, not one single professional was swayed and had permitted outsider presence to knock over the door of their perseverance.

In this new world across the oceans of Japan, Goro planted his foot on the soil in an act towards a fresh start. And finally, finally, I finally enjoyed watching a baseball match being played in this anime, and experienced something else other than boredom and scoffing!!! The tryouts, the seasonal games, the matches between Gibson Jr. and Honda Jr., the elemental sports colors of each surfaced in abundance and successfully that I actually looked forward to the games, what with the lovely charisma of the Memphis Bats and their playfulness yet reliability as a team.

A full-fledged baseball team, that can actually do the normal things that can uplift and aid Goro! And Goro can pitch-to-hit without fear as capable teammates surround him! High-level, refined plays befitting the title of professionals! Oh how savory it felt to witness these, how rewarding it was to agree to the quality especially with its audiovisual improvements.

Major is not without a glue that holds attention and expectation tight when it comes to its plot and themes. The importance of parental influence and its nuclear impact upon people is exhibited in furtherance this season. Joe Gibson and Honda Shigeharu stand as pillars to set their respective sons' sights upon. With the workings of fate, both pairs' destinies interlock. Goro aims for the Majors in order to stitch the remnants of his father upon the fields of the home of baseball. It is a highly concrete goal to have, one that I am excited to journey with. To trigger a lasting impact for that dream to come true, his rivalry with Shigeharu's killer, Joe Gibson, becomes highly anticipated.

And here comes Joe Gibson Jr. and his insults towards literally everyone in existence. Understandably so, as he practically grew up without the warmth of family, embraced with the coldness of bullies instead. As he entices Goro with the presence of Gibson in the championships match, Gibson Jr. became speechless at the thought process of Honda Jr. Goro does not seek vengeance anymore, nor does he feel hatred towards his father's killer. And yes, Gibson killed Shigeharu, just wanted to let that out of my chest. He instead desires a hot-blooded pitching-batting battle with none other than the legendary pitcher. It shows how well Goro grew up, being surrounded with family, notwithstanding both of his parents being secondarily acquired.

I love how Goro is in this season. Perhaps my sensory sensitivities became clearer as pristine water washed over me as the episodes passed by, allowing me to consequently see the good in this franchise and in his character. To reiterate my previous reaction,

"I have forgotten the single most important thing about Goro: he is a baseball idiot through-and-through. This single-mindedness he displays from his extreme love of baseball causes him to be rash and stubborn, especially when faced with a worthy adversary ahead of him. He sets his eyes locked straightforwardly. Thinking about that, his recklessness becomes blotted with a more comprehensible color."

And realizing that, made things much better now. Although, the past still brings me displeasure. I believe nothing can take away the stormy seas it brought me to against my own free will. Still, the now is now. Goro persevered despite his left hand injury, and proved exceptional by breaking away his "limiters", becoming what one might call a clutch pitcher, a true diamond guardian.

As for what was lacking to me, such that this series did not warrant me to break it past a 7 and more, well it will take me more time to warm up to this series after plentiful setbacks. I still did not undergo that adrenaline rush that sports-centered stories should evoke from me. Until I dance freely with my emotions outstretched on the cohesive turbulence of baseball matches wed with themes in perfect match, I will perhaps remain in this spot.

*An eye-opening, butt-moving piece of art striking enough to leave something to ponder on for a lifetime.*
(Written last February 21, 2022)

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!! SPOILER-FILLED REVIEW/REFLECTION !!

~~

Blind and with low expectations, this manga basically blew me away. It opened my eyes, enlightened me on the significant do's & don'ts of living youth. An honest-to-God touching series which, I believe, could connect to most people in many ways.
...
At first, realizing it's an autobiographical manga, I started contemplating on what blurs the line between fiction and reality. "Should I treat it just as a manga?" "How should I feel knowing it's based on a true story?" "Should I really trust what happens here isn't exaggerated to the limits?"

Initially, I was turned off with that notion due to my unfamiliarity with such concept in animanga. However, I could say that the author delivered her own story with proper execution, pacing, and tone. I understood why there were plenty of timeskips and it isn't riddled with numerous interactions. It stays true to life for the most part (though I'm sure there are some parts that are contrived to a degree, but I can't pinpoint which one it is so I've disregarded that now), and it seemed "real", and because of that realness I was able to be vulnerable to the author's intentions and was able to intake the whole brunt of the story's message and lessons.

Blank Canvas: My So-Called Artist's Journey made me empathize with the mangaka. I admire her being completely open and personal with her personal journey, exposing all of the mistakes she's made throughout her life through the characters.

What struck me the most was the teacher-student relationship which I always love seeing as it is one of my favorite tropes. In this series, the connection is done so well. And about Sensei...Well, what happened to him was depressing to say the least. His impact in life and in death broke my walls and made me contemplate on my own situation. "Just Draw. Draw. Draw. Draw." I could never forget his words. Repeated as it is, cliche as his advices are, harsh as his disciplinary habits were, it made it all the more moving.

We all need someone like Hidaka-sensei in our lives to keep our butts moving. People like him ready us for the harshest points in life and help us adapt when the worst comes. Perhaps it's a mixed view, but personally I would want to be under someone like Sensei. He teaches not only what's within the four confined walls of a classroom, but a world way beyond in distance and in time.

Blank Canvas made me think about my own future. I'm a university student and I'm filled with so many doubts towards myself. I don't have as much privilege as the mangaka had at this stage of her life, so it pushed me to do what counts and to grab any opportunities I can, and not waste 4 years of my college life in passivity and incompetence. I need to improve myself, need to find my dream.

The future is clouded in uncertainties, but life always has something planned for us. It might take a long time, it might be hard to remain optimistic, but to struggle on is one of the biggest achievements and requirements to attain what we deserve.

I like how the author's experience in art and her utilization of art in her story heavily ties to life. Truly, art is closely resembled and synonymous with life. There are endless possibilities, but it is the truth that we are constricted in what we make to pave a path of success. Sometimes we can be in a slump and don't know what to do. Sometimes we love art but aren't good at it, and so we can either work hard or leave the road. Either way, in life the brush is always in our hands. The materials are just scattered around. The canvas is always there, waiting for us for it to be given life.

I would just like to reiterate how grateful I am of the author's openness. In the ending parts of the last chapter, she's shared some of her sentiments. It felt like I'm left with a long-lasting, gentle touch in my heart. It is an inspirational story, and I highly recommend more people to read this.

*It's cruel how its strengths were the mangaka's own pitfalls*

~~

I just learned earlier that Terajima apparently didn't enjoy working with Daiya, especially Act II or the "Second-year Sawamura Arc" as he called it once. Why, that must have been a huge shocker to anyone who has seen and enjoyed his work that took more than a decade and a half of his life centering around the Seidou Baseball Club's measly one-and-a-half-year journey. A cruel fact to stumble upon that twisted my insides quite a bit for it shows one of the tragedies artists must brave, that no amount of glory received from your highly reputable ... work could soothe the many afflictions you've experienced in reality, and how that very creation can be a primary source of the suffering of its creator. Such a potent whiplash knowing how the series does not see any effects of Terajima's depression, in truth it presents the opposite spectrum of emotions, while it veils whatever has been happening behind the scenes.

From what I've gathered, two main reasons led to the author viewing the franchise with disdain: one being the weekly publishing experience (enough has been said) and the plainness of Daiya Act I and Act II. For the sake of this writeup, we'll touch upon the latter.

As to why Terajima describes Act I as plain and Act II much plainer than its ancestor, it boils down to the expectations handed down to sports manga as a subset of the wide arrayed repertoire of fictional stories in a medium. It's been said that the story being very, very, very solely about baseball was the reason why drawing it felt like being in a rut to him. Ironically, that's the reason why I love Daiya so much, due to the consistency of hot-blooded matches and all things baseball--a sport that I knew nothing about prior to engaging in the series--and how it convinced me that it was a damn enjoyable sport. But I guess the operations betrayed the author, for that historical first Inajitsu match locked Terajima away from more freedom within the bounds of his story and out.

Due to Seidou's loss against a fiery, nigh unpredictable bout against Narumiya and his cronies, fans had the logical reaction of wanting for a rematch that will exceed the tip of Everest and shoot up beyond space that shall add to Daiya's list of legendary games. Terajima had to wrap up the third years' departure and build upon once more a rocky start. And what would that entail? More training, more practice, more matches, more baseball. But is that not to be expected? Won't that excite the people to witness Seidou slowly but surely overcoming the weaknesses that have been unearthed in order to finally reach the lofty heights barred by Inajitsu? I'd like to think it did, and the pace it went to flesh out the trying days between Act I and Act II before the presumed inevitable rematch in order to give respects to the finicky speed of progress in accordance with the unique disposition of each character whilst strengthening the interpersonal connection of ally and foe alike was a major part in my awe of Daiya.

But I guess that took a toll on an already exhausted mangaka. Perhaps the landmine explosion of limitation he didn't think of arriving on was demoralizing on top of the industrial pressure inherent on his work no matter the support system. Indeed the scope of its worldbuilding was very much little when compared to Mitsuda Takuya's Major, similarly a tale of baseball lads, who has escaped the clutches of Japan Nationals and a life expectancy of the three years of high school. Although little deviation is seen from the structural timeline and spatial field of Furudate's Haikyuu!!, it did start from the protagonist's juvenile aspirations and closes with a couple some chapters post-timeskip, and it ran with almost half of Daiya's overall chapter count and half of its whole runtime.

Additionally, one of its biggest strengths, the matches and the characters, became Terajima's personal pitfall, for he had to claw through his way to fashion up all of Seidou and the many antagonists representing every enemy team, all within the boundaries of baseball. There was little to no room for liberty of scenarios taking place outside the playing field or training grounds, travels to other places cannot allow leeway for frolicking about tourist spots, that is to say slice of life elements in Act II were decidedly unexplored for our shared conviction on strictly single-minded athletic developments.

Thus Daiya no Ace Act II ended up sailing through the uncharted future with a boilerplate formula, its captain scaping through to serve his constituents with familiar artistry obligatorily polished. I'd like to think a portion of Terajima's frustration is this limiting movement that resigns him to the main and only goal of the story, for Daiya lacks branches on its tree. I see it as its major asset which the mangaka gardened in exemplary manner, but alas adoration can't bend the truth.

All of that aside though, it's time for the review of the sequel itself.

Sawamura Eijun is a spectacular protagonist that is as dynamic as the height of excitement and as straightforwardly passionate as the manga. I believe he is one of the story's most prevailing strengths, thus worthy to note first and foremost. I acknowledge the solidness of his character, and the magnetic charm he possesses as a heart-on-sleeve hardworker bearing talent and the wisdom to open up his own potential. Huge entertainment value is scored by his demeanor and his wheel-of-fortune-based skillset. It's hype-inducing storywriting essential #1 to create a lead that has lot of things going for them. Take for example One Piece's Luffy and the increasing amounts of his fighting techniques, the versatility of Hinata from Haikyuu!!, or Cardcaptor Sakura's long list of Clow Cards for Sakura to choose from depending on the situation, such that clashes avoid dormancy. Eijun has his Numbers, the wildness of its potential masterfully exploited by Miyuki the catcher, making Eijun and him a very compatible pair. Daiya has no shortage of electric character connections. As mentioned before, it is a strong suit. The advent of a new set of first-years was a leverage for the future of the series, although I'd like to say that they weren't particularly of impactful substance to the memory of my senses.

To touch upon the technicalities of baseball more, I'm a complete novice but the strategies and actions were convincing and immersive to my ignorant brain. Terajima draws with such clean penwork of animated energy raw enough to feel the intensity of each match-up. Visual appeal earns gigantic points for its ease of readability through seamless choreography minimalistic and concise. You can feel the flow of motion as potential power is translated into a kinetic one, the severity of a home run and the speed of a pitcher's ball. You can picture out the direction of each throw, hear the sound of each strike on the catcher's glove; there is immense weight emanating out of the players' desire to win. These make Daiya no Ace an adept conveyer of its core as a train-and-match character-centric sports adventure which succeeds at one-upping itself every time.

As an ending note, allow me to express how surely I will miss this wonderful experience. I was actually not expecting to feel so emotionally invested on this story, such that rereading the results of the Inajitsu rematch a year and a half I finished it overwhelmed me with tears and awe still. I will miss the excitement every game brings, I will miss the quality set of antagonists in the form of Raichi, Narumiya, Sanada, and Amahisa. I will miss how each member of Seidou treats one another in an uplifting and affectionate way. I will miss how sorely into the character development journey I was, how shackled I became at the mercy of Terajima's whims every game. Most of all, I will miss Eijun, the antics and the glory of the ace.