Hey guys!
After finishing A Silent Voice, I had mixed feelings. I loved the series and had a definite feeling that I had just read something special, however I was somewhat puzzled by the ending. I felt that the story was very purposefully written, so most likely I just had not understood all there was to it. As the conclusion gets its meaning from the whole story, I kept processing it, and I think I managed to make some sense of it. As many others seem to have felt similarly about the ending, I thought I’d have a bit of fun writing down and sharing some ideas about what might be going on with Shoya and Shoko.
Obviously, spoilers. Also obviously, long. In case you’re turned off by the wall of text and just want to see what I have to say about the ending, ctrl+f into the next instance of “beginning”. You’re welcome. :)
The limits of trusting your head
The Japanese title ‘Koe no katachi’ translates as ‘the shape of voice’, giving us an idea of its themes. What ‘shape’ your voice takes depends to a large degree on the listener; communication is a matter of relationship, speaking as well as listening. We also can’t take it for granted that the words we say have the effect on others that we intended.
True to the original title, A Silent Voice makes a case of distinguishing between reality and the words we use to make sense of it. We categorize people based on their behavior, characteristics, things they enjoy or don’t enjoy and so on. While these categores are helpful to a degree, they exclude anything about a person that we are not aware of. They also do not take into account that people do, in fact, change. Shoya had realized this when he tells Shoko that he has been seeing her in a way that was convenient for himself in the final bridge scene. To contrast, Ueno makes it her thing to reduce others to her impressions of them, with unfortunate consequences.
We all need to change as long as we live, and accept that others change as well. In A Silent Voice we see Shoya change from Shoko’s bully to the friend most sincerely concerned with her. He was a bully, but he changed. The word ‘bully’ ceased to describe the attitude he had toward Shoko long before he himself and some of the other characters stopped judging him based on it. Nagatsuka tells us that friendship is something deeper than words and logic. Instead of trying to figure things and people out in our heads, we are better off allowing life to unfold mutually. Keeping this theme in mind should help us make sense of the relationship between Shoya and Shoko as well.
The love story of Shoya and Shoko?
Much of Shoya’s and Shoko’s character development happens in relation to each other. The relationship between them is not resolved into a romance despite building up expectations. The characters’ feelings for each other certainly seem closer to love than ‘just’ friendship. Basically everyone else sees them that way, and their reactions to Yuzuru lying to each of them that the other is already in a relationship are quite telling. Then there’s the painfully awkward scene of Shoko having to yell an unfortunately mispronounced “I love you” to Shoya three times on the streets... There is little doubt that their feelings are mutual, so why doesn’t A Silent Voice seal the deal?
In the confession scene, Shoya’s response appears unrelated to Shoko’s confession. Instead it looks like a play on the alternative meaning of the phrase “the moon is beautiful”. The phrase has apparently been used for the purpose of a love confession, either because a direct approach has been considered too forward in the Japanese culture, or because the person is too timid to do so directly. However, there may be something more than wordplay to this scene. While Shoya doesn’t realize that Shoko is making a love confession, his response has the same meaning. Quite appropriate for a story making a case of not equating reality with the words we use to talk about it.
The confession scene shows Shoko acting in an unusual manner. She wears her hair differently, gives Shoya a present that he has absolutely no clue about, speaks instead of signing, and even says exactly what is on her mind. Also, she makes her confessesion when Shoya has his back is turned. Lots of things are out of place here, not least the confession itself.
“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” works as well as a direct confession would as long as the would-be lovers share an understanding of the feelings and the situation. Shoko's confession is the opposite. She says what she means as clearly as she can, but it does not fit the situation at all, and she does not get understood. Clearly getting from being in love with someone to a mutually realized romantic relationship is a matter of more than saying the words, even when the other person shares the feelings. This leads to a distinction that helps make sense of Shoya and Shoko’s relationship as part of the story:
A Silent Voice is not a romance. However, it is a love story.
There’s a difference. The simple act of saying you love someone does not automatically mean that you do. Even if you do, is it always the same feeling that makes you want to say the words? Neither does being sincere about loving your partner mean that you necessarily treat them in a loving manner. Apparently love, just like friendship, is beyond words and logic.
Not writing Shoko and Shoya into a romantic couple shows that there is a difference between a romance and loving someone. Think about their relationship and ask yourself, romance or no, doesn’t it seem a lot like something you’d call love? While we never see a mutual confession, their feelings are made quite clear to us; they support each other, strive to let each other be themselves, and want to be a part of each other’s lives. These things are real and they come first; calling the relationship this or that is secondary. Instead of reducing love to the question of whether they are a romantic couple or not, A Silent Voice demonstrates what it means to treat another person in a loving manner. If you even wanted to call it something like ‘true love’, I probably wouldn’t object.
Looking at how A Silent Voice presents relationships in general, it turns out there aren’t many couples to begin with. Both Shoya’s and Shoko’s parents are separated, their fathers having left their families for small-minded reasons. Shoya’s boredom-hating sister is not the dedicated wife type of person either, although Pedro does end up sticking around for longer (good for Maria!). Miki’s crush on Satoshi is no secret, and Satoshi likes her too, but there’s no explicit confirmation of them becoming a couple. Surprisingly, in a story as concerned with love as this, actual couples are a rarity.
The series certainly does not present relationships as a ticket to happily ever after, which they aren’t in real life either. Just take a look at the divorce rates these days. If being in a romantic relationship is not contributing to your happiness, you are under no obligation to have or stay in one - and that goes for your partner too. Romance stories tend to focus on falling in love and the challenges of becoming a couple, leaving unanswered the question ‘what then’. How do you keep the relationship as one worth being in for both of you over time and when life inevitably presents you with other challenges?
The ending is the beginning
I do not think that A Silent Voice has left its ending open, as some have claimed. Sure, the main characters are not written into a romantic couple, but there seems to be a solid purpose behind it. In any case, we are better off not forcing our expectations of a romance story on a story that is not trying to be one. Instead, looking at A Silent Voice as a demonstration of a mutually loving attitude between the main characters, the ending is a natural conclusion. Shoya and Shoko have reached a relationship that enables them to face the unknown future together, yet still remain as individuals. It acknowledges that life will keep changing, as will you and your partner, and that in order to keep a relationship a loving one you need to do more than slap the label ‘romantic couple’ on it. That is as conclusive as life will ever permit it to be.
There’s one more catch. Changing ‘romance’ to ‘love’ is still using words to make sense of an experience, relationship or attitude toward another person. It would just shift reducing an ever-changing relationship between two ever-changing human beings to one word instead of another. This is as far as words will take us, but we’ll be fine without them. The focus of A Silent Voice has been on what is behind the words all along.
The symbol of Shoya and Shoko trying but failing to take each other’s hand is used repeatedly as the story progresses. The final page shows one of the few times they successfully take each other’s hands, suggesting it is a key symbol. The meaning of holding hands with someone cannot be put into words, but remains similar all our lives. You can only do it together; you are not holding their hand any more than they are holding yours. The situations where the main characters fail to take each other’s hands signify non-mutuality or not quite reaching each other, and most critically failing to take the hand when it is offered*. You know the saying “If you love them, let them go free. If they love you, they will come back to you”? That is literally what is going on when Shoya has to deal with Shoko moving to Tokyo for her licence, as a final challenge of trusting that the relationship is mutual.
By the occasions when Shoya and Shoko do take each others’ hands successfully, we can see they are truly together in three things: in being friends, since she takes his hand in response to him asking it when they meet for the first time after elementary school; in being there for each other when they need it**; and in whatever that comes after the end of the story.
A perfect, beautiful ending, unless you are mistaking a love story for a romance.
Notes
*In ’Pretend Date’. Critical because it signifies loss of the connection between them due to something Shoya had not understood about Shoko. Ironically, on their first meeting after elementary school, Shoko told it to him straight (which is something she had trouble with) in response to him asking her directly (which is something he had trouble with) about why she likes feeding the carp. This suggests the role the pretend date may have played for Shoko’s suicide attempt. You really should have been paying attention, Shoya. >:|
**Concretizing the expression “I’ll catch you if you fall”. In breaking Shoko’s fall in ‘Fireworks’, Shoya completes her attempt to reach out to him in ‘Pretend Date’, where she likewise catches a stumbling Shoya by the wrist. This marks the turning point where they finally open up to each other, get their respective inner torments out of the way and realize that they are both in it for real. |