This show is not about him. Just like Rei, it has moved on from the times of subdued, somber sadness; there is another storm brewing in the distance. Unannounced, but with utter and immediate intensity, the current changes as the happy-go-lucky Hinata gets home one evening: her face is pale, her expression pained; tears start a sinister stream. There is bullying going on in Hinata’s class. After fighting for and protecting the previous victim Chiho who has since left the school, the bullies shifted targets towards her. She knows she did nothing wrong, that what she did was in fact right—but it doesn’t stop her stomach from aching nor her heart from breaking. During a crucial time in Hinata’s life, she is left alone, being ignored by former friends and classmates, utterly isolated. With bullying, there is no easy way out; just one obstacle in the form of a weak-willed teacher is enough to create rips and ripples, all of which reflect, add, and cancel each other out—resulting in complete chaos.
In face of a problem near impossible for an outsider to resolve, her family and Rei do their best to help: Rei tries to repay the debt of Hinata and her sisters saving his life from dreariness and depression in a misled attempt to rack up money; Akari on the other hand views Hinata’s well-being as a responsibility relayed to her by her late mother—a responsibility too big for her to carry. Both of them fail to accomplish their goals and experience what to them seems like an indisputable defeat. However, this assessment based on the self-centered and self-serving assumption that one can do anything if one tries couldn’t be further off; their so-called failures led to them spending time with Hinata, listening to her. When she ran away, Rei ran after her; in times of sorrow, she found solace in a soothing and supportive home that let her smile again. Was it not for these small everyday gestures, for friends and family supporting her no matter how ferocious or frantic her feelings, she could not have persevered. They didn’t fail. They did well.
The ripples may wane but they never vanish, Hinata and Chiho might never fully recover—but in the end, these blemishes are part of what makes a human: they add another layer to their characters, dreams, ambitions and passions, to their relationship with family, friend and foe and add context to their everyday actions. As these values accumulate, they give form not to a character, but something greater. All of these people have their own stories to tell, some of which we may never hear of; their stories intermingle and paths cross, branching off and meeting up again—sometimes. Some days, the torrents may grow harsh, but other times may bring with them a friendly flux; some of the tributaries may meet a dead end earlier than expected, others may follow along the river of life and flow until they are released into the deep, dark ocean.
Consequentially, the further one coasts along, the more colleagues and communities one will lose to such bifurcations. For a person such as Kishou Yanagihara, there are no more people to lose: all of his former friends and rivals have thrown in the towel, and as they pass on what is left of their hope and passion for the sport, they also pass on from the world of shogi. Struggling against sickness and fatigue, this burden weighs down heavy on the eldest active shogi player’s frame: their sashes seem suffocating, and like a farmer staring at the remnants of a burnt field, he has no one and nowhere left to turn to. However, just like the farmer he knows that this desolate and depressing wasteland will soon give rise to a new mellow-looking meadow, fertile and fruitful. He catches on fire: his burning passion paints the picture of a haunting human torch slowly burning to cinder and as his fiery fighting spirit overtakes his self-doubt, he finally comes to terms with the fact that life moves on… even if he won’t let go just yet.
The show moves on, its natural flow harboring both healing and heartbreak; their paths continue to cross and their stories to intermingle. And as the pieces fall into place, they give rise to an unparalleled display of life and humanity, poignant and personal. March comes in like a Lion sets a new standard not just for Slice-of-Life as a genre, but for storytelling itself.
Score: 100
