[Kamen Rider Die]

KAMEN RIDER SABER EPISODE 46 - “FAREWELL, MY DEAR HERO”



Writing these posts and threads the last few years has been incredibly strange.

It wasn’t ever supposed to be a thing. I didn’t write a lot, generally, or participate in fandoms. I’d lurk, but I didn’t really post or discuss. Ghost was giving me trouble, and – I don’t even remember why – I decided to post a thread about it here. And then I never stopped. Three years and six months later, I’m still at it.

I write these things for me, is what I always told myself. I’d write them just to get these ideas out of my head. I don’t know how true that is, really. I like the discussion, probably more than any sense of pride or achievement in an episode post. I like being in a space where stories are being celebrated, and feeling like I had some small part in shaping that experience. It’s never about definitive statements and unimpeachable arguments, but about sharing perspectives. Getting to see the different ways these shows affect people has been a daily delight, and one I’m careful to never take for granted. I like being around you all, when I'm writing this stuff.

It’s important, in any writing, to consider the audience.

Not… not in a sense of catering, or indulging, but in an awareness of the collaborative nature of storytelling. There’s what someone writes, and then there’s what the reader does with that writing. A story told to no one is just an idea; it becomes real only when it's shared. But the audience gets to decide what that story means just as much as – maybe more than – the writer. Stories get to change and grow with the size of the audience, or with time. You write something, and if you’re very lucky, someone else will read it. When that happens, your writing exists on its own, independent of anything else. It’s the best gift a writer can receive.

Touma and Storious are both writers. They’ve got similar origins – talented writer gets touched by the cosmic and gains power. They’ve got similar catchphrases, which I think is perfect. They both talk about deciding how stories end, but they’re saying opposite things. Because only Touma cares about the audience.

Storious wanted fame, notoriety, acclaim. When he found out that he couldn’t call himself the genius behind his poetry, he turned his back on the idea of human curiosity and endeavor. All creation was pointless because no one could receive credit for it. He wants to decide how the story ends because it represents regained control, and the chance to create something all his own. He’s an author who only writes for applause, and despises a world where he can't claim greatness.

Touma only writes for his audience, to make people happy, to share a piece of himself with the world. He doesn’t care about accolades; he cares how his stories make readers think about each other, or understand themselves. His writing is a bridge between people, and he couldn’t care less if the materials of that bridge come from some magic book. The point is only ever the reaction from the readers, and the chance to see what they do with the story. He wants to decide how the story ends because everyone should get a say in storytelling, and no one should get to decide that for others.

It’s a lovely way of weaving this franchise’s empathy into this show’s exploration of fiction. The brilliance of fiction, of any writing, is in how each reader gets to decide what to take away from it. Storious calling Touma “my hero” is insulting to Touma, because it diminishes him to a character in Storious’s narrative; it robs him of agency and perspective. The point of storytelling is to allow for endless possibilities and interpretations, not to flatten everything into your conception of the world. It doesn’t matter where a story began, because every time it’s told to someone, it changes. Where ideas come from is pointless to consider; what an idea means to you as a person is much more compelling to talk about.

I like this show taking a beat before the end to really delve into the concept of storytelling, and how different storytellers feel about it. Just a refreshing, unique bit of business, right up until Touma gets kicked into a pit and falls into the void, never to return.

See you Wednesday!

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ALL I ASK OF MYSELF IS THAT I HOLD TOGETHER



If there was one thing Mei could do to help Touma – aside from why she left the bookstore – it was yell at people.

She’d always had a knack for motivating people. It’s what had gotten her the job as editor, and it’s what had made her an integral part of the Sword of Logos. She’d yelled at monsters, at evil Kamen Riders, at sulking swordsmen, and at sentient fictions. She’d cajoled, coerced, commiserated, confronted, and consoled. She’d found a way to get nearly a dozen super-powered strangers across the finish line, and she was certain she had more left in the tank.

She wasn’t entirely sure how to motivate a magical girl from a fairytale world, though.

For all their similarities in age now, Mei couldn’t say she related to Luna. Luna was the manifestation of imagination and embodiment of a dimension ruled by storytelling, and Mei was a couple purchases away from a free boba tea at her favorite cafe. (Next week she’d get it, assuming the world didn’t end first.) They weren’t really alike at all, except for knowing Touma.

Touma. Right. Of course.

As Mei looked down at the fading girl, she knew what Luna was thinking about. She felt weak, and unable to do more than fade away while Touma battled and lost. She didn’t have the strength to help, and so she wanted to spare him the sight of her death. She pitied herself, and cursed a world that would let things end this way.

Mei had been there before. But she knew that this was only the end if Luna stopped believing in Touma, and stopped believing in herself. The trick to winning in this world of diabolical masterminds and apocalyptic clouds was to get up, and push forward. Defeat was a certainty if you stopped fighting. If you kept fighting, anything could still happen. She’d seen miracles, after all.

Luna’s miracle was that she needed to get yelled at, and Mei had found her just in time.