#and as an isolated incident it still wouldn’t be ideal but in the context of the arrowverse’s track record with disability……it’s bad

[joshuaalbert]

ok well I did not finish watching the chute because I had to get bewilderingly angry about cw’s the flash, a hobby I have had since roughly 2017. but maybe tomorrow.

[painted-starlight]

White Disney Princess Problem: How Discussion of Historical Sexism in Europe is Avoided When They Had Every Opportunity to Portray it

And Also Acceptance into European Royalty is the Path to True Liberation?

Warning: Loooong Post (seriously, I’m not kidding), Disney Criticism, anti-T*angled, swearing, dissecting Disney princess movies, discussing the implications of classism and sexism in white princess films. I will be noting historical incidents of sexism in Europe, and how these instances are mysteriously absent in white princess films despite sexism playing a major role in portraying princesses of color’s culture. 

Tl;dr/Summary: White Disney Princess Films have a reoccurring theme of showing how being part of white European royalty is the true path to liberation, even though historically this is a completely laughable concept. Sexism faced by princesses of color are portrayed as being ingrained in their culture and the films are explicit pointing their fingers.

Unlike their princess of color counterparts, the limited amount of sexism white princesses face is often whitewashed, downplayed, or even considered empowering.

This creates an implication that white European royalty and White European society is inherently more liberating for women, fairer than nonwhite cultures, and more humane. But in reality European royals were often notoriously sexist, and often violently so. Portraying white European royal culture as being inherently more freeing is historically inaccurate and irresponsible.

Also, I’m a picky little shit who delves into a lot of historical sexism that should be in the white princess films since Disney is soooo concerned about sexism enough to point it out in their princess of color films, but are mysteriously absent in their white European ones. 

Important Note: 

No, I don’t hate these films, I love many disney princess movies. 

And no, I don’t hate the fact that these girls have simple wishes. 

I don’t care if a character wants to go see the human world, or make a pretty dress, or paint or see lanterns or whatever. That’s FINE. 

What I hate is that they make a huge stink about how this or that nonwhite culture mistreats women, or how it’s unfair, but they never do the same for white Europeans. They always portray white europeans as nicer, kinder, etc. and find a convenient excuse to ignore/gloss over/whitewash the violent sexism present in european history. That is my ultimate problem. The double standard. 

The Double Standard 

I find it very interesting how in portraying Disney princesses of color, that the tend to portray sexism and social inequality as something that is naturally ingrained in their society. Mulan and Jasmine come into mind for this, as their social structures are considered unfair and undermine their character arcs. The sexism they face is something to overcome and to prove themselves.

But with white Disney princesses, despite coming from Europe (which is often violently patriarchal and demanding of compliance of social expectations of gender—think Henry the VIII’s infamous desire for a male heir, the influence of the Church, popular portrayals of the Madonna with the Virgin/Whore dichotomy) they all tend to either not face sexism or dismiss the notion outright in their films.

It’s important to note that earlier white Disney princesses (like Cinderella, Snow White, Aurora) tend to be portrayals of idealized femininity. They were designed to be what is considered appealing to patriarchal standards. Highly feminine, domestic, and at times passive.

Obviously, their stories wouldn’t tackle sexism. The sexism is what what was considered appealing for white men. It was their idealized femininity, and this trend actually still continues today. 

But these princesses legacy lives on. They affect white Renaissance Disney princesses and beyond. They have set the standards of what is considered “appropriate” for white princesses to be. 

This infection has spread a great deal to how they marketed especially. Sparkles, glitter, princess outfits at all times. But this post is about their movies, and how white princess films have often sidestepped the issue of sexism in European royal society.

Belle

Yes, there is sexism in this movie. Yes, it portrayed as being bad. But when we look at context of the film, there is a noticeable ahistorical approach to class and expectations of gender in royal society.

The lower class is filled with expectations for Belle. She needs to marry in order to fit in. The opening song is demonstrative of what she doesn’t want to be: a woman who is ogled by men and forced to have as many children as possible. The village, without a “proper” royal hierarchy, makes their own by “electing” Gaston, a boorish sexist pig. In a way, they are considered worse off without the influence of a King or Queen.

The village in question is isolated, and are not considered a representative of the outside world. It’s an individual case, and it’s upsetting but not considered the norm. 

The royals are what REAL freedom is, apparently. Where Belle has access to books, has a palace full of people who accept her for who she is, and has a connection to a prince who has been cursed. She is free to do as she pleases, with the Beast encouraging her love for reading.  

EDIT (08/12/19): 

Hm, I should really revise this wording, as it is a little vague. One of the key elements in understanding this movie’s themes is that Belle is initially Beasts’ prisoner. 

There is no freedom until AFTER she changes him and he has the maturity to let her go (Though I believe she is ignorant of the rose being a ticking clock). But once she gets it, she is apparently “free” to do as she pleases.  

Initially, it’s kind of like going from one prison (social expectations) to another (which is a literal one). But when regarding the narrative, it all places emphasis on individual choices. White European stories told by Disney tend to judge characters based on their choices and they never judge the culture itself, just choices people make. 

While placing emphasis on individual choices is fine in a vaccum, they never do this for nonwhite cultures, particularly Renaissance disney films with nonwhite leads. Those films tend to rely on racial stereotypes to fill the cast and not give them as much understanding as their white counterparts. 

The only reason the palace is in ruins is because the prince decided to judge people based on their looks. It turns not only himself, but his servants and the rest of the castle into twisted versions of themselves. The town fawns over Gaston and glorify his actions despite being an asshole, but it’s not something that is consistent with French culture. 

It’s important to note though, that once the monarchy is reinstated, things end happily ever after. But if people really want to claim historical accuracy, the expectations from Belle wouldn’t end there. 

(end note)

Sure, she would have access to books theoretically. But as a princess/queen, Belle would be expected to perform more feminine tasks and birth male heirs to inherit the throne. It’s in the culture of royals to do this. These expectations don’t go away.  

Most European royalty, especially France, have been notorious during this time period (assuming it’s Pre-Revolutionary France) for its nobility being separated from the general public at large. Royals had their own culture and etiquette. Royalty often had a culture that was exclusively for themselves. One historical account had King Louis XIV relocating their court and government to Versailles because they didn’t want to be near all the poor people in Paris. 

Which is probably where the creators of Beauty and the Beast (Disney film) based the idea of the village being separated from the palace came from.

Nobility also had strict ideas of what men and women’s roles are. In fact, you could argue that the idea that Belle would be “free” as a princess would be a laughable concept. Like it has been established earlier, European royalty had their own set of rules and restrictions based on gender and social expectations. 

Merida

It’s funny how the inherently sexist practices of royalty are suddenly something to be proud of and find power in it when it’s European, and hated when it’s from a nonwhite culture. 

In Brave, domesticity and performance of femininity are emphasized, much to Merida’s irritation, so it’s definitely truer to upper class customs than say, Beauty and the Beast.

Plausible Deniability aka “what sexism? I see no sexism!” 

However, this movie dances around the concept that sexism has anything to do with this by creating plausible deniability at every turn. It’s about Elanor and Merida, not the system that binds them. It doesn’t help that Eleanor is the one who enforces these rules on Merida, not to protect her from harm coming from the men in these social circles that would hurt her for not performing femininity, but because “it’s tradition.”

Merida laments that her brothers don’t have the same responsibilities as her, but of course they don’t. They’re like, five. She hates having to be a princess because it’s work, but of course? She’s a princess. 

It becomes a matter of her not wanting to do work and chalking it up to her being rebellious rather than a genuine effort to change anything about the social structure. It’s a generational difference that requires compromise, not upheaval. 

She doesn’t want to lose her freedom, but it’s portrayed as something she has to do to grow up. The obligations make her sad but she has to ultimately deal with it, reasserting the theme of “compromise” with her relationship with her mother and the clans. In the end, it’s about her and her mother, not about how this system treats women at all. She doesn’t put any responsibility for this system on her father (who would reinforce these rules because he is the KING) because she gets along with him more than her mother. 

That’s the problem with white princess films in general. They take problems that exist because of systemic and economic limitations and make it completely individualistic.  It’s important to note that Brave appears to be tackling sexism, but it never actually addresses it in a genuine way.

Lesson for Battling Systemic Sexism in Brave: Don’t Change the System, Change the Person!

Merida’s desire for change is based on her mother’s demands, and doesn’t tackle the social expectations themselves straight on. The men around Merida, who MADE and uphold these rules, aren’t considered a threat and are pretty much never held accountable. They are too bumbling, too endearing, and too funny to be called out on their expectations.  

The movies like, “oh yeah, this social structure is hindering and it’s sexist and whatever, blah, blah, blah but eVeryONE wants to follow their own path, not just Merida!!1” Her potential suitors don’t want to do this either. It’s totally not a sexism issue!!11

Even though historically, you’d have at least ONE suitor that didn’t care whether she wanted to or not, as it would be a power grab. But because they are so bumbling, they are almost all benign. The ending in itself is convenient as it allows Merida and Elanor to reconnect. But it doesn’t really change anything. Because it doesn’t want to. That wasn’t the point.

White Princesses: For Me, Myself, and I

Belle didn’t want to change how women were viewed, just her specific circumstances. Her plight is portrayed as systemic, but only in this one area that’s gone rogue. The world outside is more accepting, more free, and it’s in the confines of a royal castle. On a meta level, it’s kinda classist. I love the movie, don’t get me wrong, but on rewatch it seems to equate a lack of a monarchy ultimately leading into a mob mentality. Which, for France, makes sense. But when you have servants who just live to serve (no matter how vibrant their personality), I kind of get suspicious. 

Ariel didn’t want to change how mermaids interacted with humans, she just wanted to go up and see the human world. The benefits of her turning her into a human (freeing Ursula’s victims) is a happy accident that lines up with her ending.

Merida just wanted to be free to do whatever she wanted, which is considered selfish. She is a princess, and being a princess is hard work (when you want to make sure your character finds power in sexist practices). 

And to be honest, it’s fine to have a simple goal. Reconnect with your mother, make a pretty dress, see the lanterns, whatever. But the problem is the double standard when they go into films about people of color. They point out how sexist this non white culture is, how they mistreat women, but they never do the same for white princesses at all. These filmmakers always have some sort of excuse. 

Ariel

Ariel’s story is indivualistic and while there are hints of her being unsatisfied with her role as a princess (with her line “bright young women, sick of swimming”), it’s more about her personal journey to be human. She’s not dissatisfied because of her society because of sexist/prejudice expectations, but because she wants to explore. 

Once again, the world in which a white Disney princess goes into/winds up in a world of European royalty are considered a bastion of freedom. In the original tale, the prince is not idealized and she is miserable on the surface world when it turns out that all her sacrifice was for nothing. 

I’ve had people argue that Triton’s prejudice (which is often mislabeled as “racism,” which….no it’s not) is a social problem, it really doesn’t play much of a role rather than provide an opposition to overcome on the path to being human.

Even if Triton was fine with humans and let her explore the human world, it wouldn’t be enough. She’d still want to be human, just maybe not going to such extreme lengths. When Ursula is defeated, others are freed from her curse, but that’s an unintentional side effect of Ariel’s journey, not the goal. Sure, she’s disgusted, but she’s not out to right any wrongs. It’s just her. Like most white princesses, this is about herself. 

Elsa and Anna

Why is it that suddenly we have a powerful matriarchy when Europe has historically violently opposed the concept? You’d think that they would mention the sexism of royal European politics since she is the queen. 

I have looked it up, and the only way she could assess power is if she had a son to inherit the throne and then act as Queen regent until he inherited it (as was the case of Queen Margaret of Denmark in 1387, who ruled Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. Though she outlived her son and her successor was a relative after her death. Considering that this story presumably takes place in the early 1800s, that is a huge time difference and the politics of European royalty would be drastically different). 

No Male Heirs?

In earlier storyboards, we have suitors for Elsa that she rejects. We also had a regent who took the throne for Elsa after her parents died before she was coronated. But that character was deleted. So it’s safe to assume that she is not only being coronated, but also has absolute power.

Elsa is pretty much universally loved by her people and doesn’t have any real serious opposition to her rule politically. The Duke of Weasleton is a joke, and he is more concerned about his trade being compromised rather than her being a woman. 

Please correct me if I’m wrong, but other than calling her a witch, his sexism isn’t as explicit as it should be and isn’t taken very seriously. His character is more defined by his dislike of magic, and is portrayed as suspicious, arrogant and cowardly. 

In the end, it all came down to trade and goods. If Arandelle’s goods were damaged or expired from the winter, it might cause their prices to go up.But in reality, it’d just be easier for the Duke to look for a male relative of Elsa to usurp her and form some sort of alliance with him. And more historically accurate.

Hans, Kristoff and the Marriage Situation

Anna has the freedom to marry a commoner (Kristoff), a prince she was not previously engaged to (Hans), and she has the power to grant Hans authority. The mere fact that she was even allowed to be alone with him is cause for concern, as many upper class women had to have a chaperone when courting before they could even go walking together. 

She isn’t pressured to marry Hans, she does it because she wants to. She just chooses him at a party. Surely she’d have an arranged marriage, or something? 

Rapunzel

Obviously, because Ra//punzel is not raised to be a princess she would probably not be held to the same standards until she returned home. And I’m not gonna touch the animated series because it’s so far removed from the movie it shouldn’t be considered canonical.

But still, Tangl//ed the movie continues the trend of how being part of European royalty is pathway to freedom. She is only free when she is away from Mother Gothel (who is poor) and with her birth parents (who are rich).

Sexist Insults from Mother Gothel, But No One Else

She doesn’t encounter any sort of sexism in her society. It’s really interesting to note that these feminine expectations and sexist insults are put on her more by Mother Gothel than the village she encounters. But that���s more because Mother Gothel is trying to destroy her sense of self worth (by calling her chubby, encouraging long hair to preserve her own youth, etc.).

Modern Notions of Femininity vs. Historical Reality

Rapunzel herself already engages in traditionally feminine activities (reading is very limited, baking, arts and crafts, etc.) for a modern audience. This is absolutely key because Mother Gothel wouldn’t be able to afford such a variety of paint for Rapunzel.

Painting for the longest time was considered a high art for men and male apprentices. Women weren’t encouraged to pursue it and it wasn’t seen as something traditionally feminine until recently.

Painting as a hobby (such as Rapunzel’s colorful and pastel palette) is more of a skill that is acceptable for girls now, since paint and brushes are in abundance and availability.

You can skip over this next part about the painting if you want. It’s basically me griping about how Rapunzel’s painting habits would be next to impossible in real life to do in the 1800s unless she had her own workshop with her own apprenticeship and income. 

Painting? Maybe... Painting on the Walls? No freaking Way

In reality, if this does take place in past Europe then she probably wouldn’t have access to paint as it was really expensive and you had to take things like climate, temperature, and color into account to transporting and making it.

Location was really important, as paint in Northern Europe wouldn’t be compatible with the temperature of Southern Europe (because it would melt). And in Rapunzel’s case, if you’re putting it on a wall, then it would have to last a long time without melting or chipping away over time.  That is why old frescos (or Byzantine Wall Paintings) were chipped and rotted when they were rediscovered. Also, don’t even try to get blue, that color was crazy expensive lol.

Mother Gothel doesn’t appear to have the material wealth to afford it, otherwise she’d be able to afford way more and just import what she needs without leaving the tower. How could she afford all that paint? It was crazy expensive (unless you mixed it yourself). And that doesn’t even count the materials (brushes, color palettes, etc) needed to spread the paint across the entire tower. 

According to BBC’s Life in Colour: The Surprising History of Paint:

By the end of the 19th Century almost any colour could be purchased for a relatively low price.

Throughout the 1800s, traditional methods of producing colours declined as cheaper, reliable, standardised chemical methods replaced them. Most artists and their apprentices no longer mixed their own paints but bought them ready-made from professional “colourmen”.

So yeah, either Rapunzel would have to make them herself or she got Mother Gothel to buy it premixed for her (this is assuming that this takes place in 1840). The pigments she made would have most likely been toxic to handle. This was over a century before the creation of non toxic paint. And since she, you know, put them on the walls and most likely inhaled them---that’s just a recipe for disaster. 

Then again, it depends on whether or not she used oil based paint or water based paint. Oil based takes longer to dry than water based paint (6 hours!) and water based paint chips faster. 

Now for what I think many of you will go for when attempting to refute these points:

Tiana. 

Tiana’s story may take place in America with a more positive portrayal of the black community (though let’s be honest the whole thing with Vodoo being a force of evil is...ugh..) it still has some issues regarding condemning white people for their role in systemic racism and sexism. 

Tiana, a Black Woman’s Struggles in the Jim Crow South

“B-But Tiana wants a resturaunt!!1 It’s a simple wish for herself! Take that11!!!” 

Yeah, so? 

Do people actually think her story has nothing to do with misogynoir???it takes place in the Jim Crow South. 

Tiana faces systemic racism and is denied her dream based on her being black woman. Her entire character is centered around her connection to her heritage, her socioeconomic situation, and her culture. She may have married Naveen, but she had all the resources to buy her restaurant herself. Her liberation is her embracing her father’s words and living by them. 

And even with all this, because it takes place in America the story bends over backwards to make white characters who are totally not racist. Like Renegade Cut’s Analysis of “Late Stage Disney,” we have a system of violence and suppression being purposefully created for the benefit of white people being portrayed as a case by case problem rather than a systemic one.

They try to tell the audience that those who greatly benefit from this system (like Charlotte and her father) are good and only evil meanies take advantage of it. No...wtf?? I love this movie but Charlotte “I’m here to steal the spotlight cause I’m white” La Bouff is honestly the worst part. 

White princesses are white, and they don’t face systemic issues like systemic racism at all. They also just aren’t as involved in their culture because whiteness is so homogenized. They will never face that type of discrimination and the only way I can see them doing that is, well, talking about sexsm. 

Which they don’t seem to be interested in exploring.  

Final Thoughts

You’re probably wondering why I’m nit picking at so many of these white princesses. Well, a lot of fans argue that they are whitewashed because it’s “Historically Accurate (tm),” but these movies conveniently leave out the sexism that permeates white european royal politics. 

You could argue that white princess films are based on modern sensibilties and don’t want to go too deep into sexism. The Little Mermaid is more in tune with modern attitudes toward (white) women, and it’s a fantasy for them. 

But the thing about this is that the Disney Renaissance was a new age and if they wanted to talk about trials of gender discrimination, they did. They had no problems going into heavier subjects like this when they focused on Aladdin and Mulan. Hell, Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin only came out within a year of one another, and the contrast between their portrayal of cultures and sexism is staggering. 

The only exception I can think of was the Hunchback of Notre Dame (which isn’t a princess movie, so it doesn’t really count in this discussion because marketing really changes the game). But we don’t see characters like Quasimodo being promoted on toys, backpacks, and merchandise in the same way like we do Anna, Elsa, and Rapunzel. Not to mention, the movie has it’s own problems, such as Esmarelda representing negative sexualized stereotypes of Rroma woman. 

While the Hunchback of Notre Dame has slightly more grace than it’s white disney princess counterparts, it still has problems that can effect the way that children view themselves and their cultures when through the lens of white people. 

Overall, the numbers of positive depictions of white europeans that omit historical sexism and violence in princess films far outweighs the ones that portray them more honestly. 

[fuanteinasekai]

Meta #3: The One Where It Gets a Little Weird

Please note: this meta is heavily focused on recent manga developments, so if you don’t want to be spoiled by it you should catch up on fan translations. Okay these aren't spoilers anymore.

Also, while I think reading my previous two metas would be useful in understanding some of this, I don’t really consider this a continuation per se, since this is purely focused on developments in the manga. I really didn’t want to get distracted by anime issues, for reasons which will perhaps becomes clear. 

There are two recent stories with particular relevance to Tanuma and Natsume. (Well, three, in a way, but we’ll get to that later.)

First, “Tenjō-san,” a story that’s mostly about the four boys tracking down a mysterious, supposedly yōkai-related artifact for Himura-Sempai, a graduating senior from a different high school. Of particular note are two things: 

The unusually strong theme of mortality. The story opens with Kitamoto in the hospital, having scared the boys with a bad fall. He’s fine, but Natsume and Tanuma are very worried. There’s also a subplot about an elderly man who once went on a similar mission with his own boyhood friends. He speaks wistfully of “Tetchan and the others” as if he lost contact—or they died. It's a reminder that human life is short—sometimes shorter than expected—and one cannot wait forever to figure things out.

Tanuma’s complicated feelings make a spectacular comeback. Both chapters of the story have at least one meaningful exchange between Natsume and Tanuma. In the first chapter, Tanuma encourages Natsume to be open about his doubts by telling him, “I still sometimes want to see the same world as you, but I think it’s because we see different things that we’re able to confirm things for each other.” In the second, he tells Natsume that he might need to keep Nishimura and Kitamoto in the dark just so he can have space to be normal, “Since I, out of worry, ask you if there’s a yōkai straight away.” This is framed as a self-deprecating remark and an expression of deeper insecurities, but also as something Natsume doesn’t understand (that is, doesn’t agree with).

The next arc is another long Natsume-Natori-Matoba story about the complicated lives of those who can see yōkai, and the different paths those lives can or should take. This story reinforces the image of Natori as a protective and somewhat controlling big brother, complete with another incident of Touko-san aggressively adopting Natori. It also emphasizes the difficulty of intimate relationships, implied to be romantic, when one has a connection of responsibility to the yokai world.

The story after that is where it gets… interesting. Setting aside my own personal preferences, at the same time as I’ve seen a lot of queer subtext between Natsume and Tanuma, I’ve also always [until recently] assumed Taki would be the eventual implied wife. She’s the only girl Natsume counts as a friend, much less close friend, and she’s the closest anyone gets to being on Tanuma’s level of intimacy. Having said that, I wasn’t happy about it. Compulsory heterosexuality is one of my least favorite tropes, because it always cheapens romance and I am a huge romantic. There are essentially no obstacles between Taki and Natsume—certainly none she wouldn’t share with basically any other girl—which makes the concept of a romantic arc extremely weak.

Yet not only did the opening of the next story appear to confirm our compulsory heterosexuality, it did so in such a laughably cliche way it seemed to circle right around to subversion: 

It opens with a girl who acts like she has a crush on Taki (but not explicitly), squealing about how “lovely” but “difficult to approach” she is.

Nishimura-the-Projector assumes Natsume will be upset by Taki’s “boyfriend.”

Natsume claims to be upset because he was left in the dark, rather than because she has a boyfriend per se, which under cliche-logic reads as “denial” even though it’s a perfectly valid reason.

Jealousy trope-storm without actual jealousy.

The boyfriend is actually a relative! Heehee! Nobody acknowledges that this is heteronormative gossip at its finest.

Taki talks about her brother as if she’s trying to hook him up with Natsume??

Natsume notices… the brother… is “the cute type”???

No seriously, why would you do that now of all times?

In any case, this was all tremendously upsetting and frustrating. Since I would have to wait yet another four months (or longer) to see Tanuma again, I decided to temporarily skip the second Taki chapter and spend that time on a thought experiment/coping mechanism: What if it were a subversion?

At first I toyed with the idea of writing platonic Taki/Natsume and romantic Tanuma/Natsume separately, but it didn’t work out. While the idea of subverting “boys and girls can’t stay friends” in isolation is admirable, it’s not something with any basis in Natsume Yūjinchō. That is, Taki’s lack of romantic potential—if intentional—has always been illuminated by contrast with Tanuma, whether through the Furry yōkai/Ito-san pseudo-arc I described in Meta #2, or through more direct comparisons as in “The Time-Eater.” Thus, platonic Taki/Natsume and romantic Tanuma/Natsume are two sides of the same coin, and I approached my theory with this in mind.

Since this story was obviously heavily centered on Taki, with Tanuma having nothing more than a brief mental cameo, the only way to draw Tanuma in for comparison is the “pseudo-arc.” In that light, I created an outline of how the next three chapters should proceed if Midorikawa-sensei did intend a subversive, queer platonic Taki/ romantic Tanuma theme.

First, the real-world logic. There are two basic reasons why Midorikawa-sensei might write romantic Natsume/Tanuma the way it’s gone so far:

Standard editorial censorship. Natsume’s Book of Friends isn’t an international juggernaut, but it’s popular enough to be a reliable cash cow. So there’d be more pressure to stay within the heteronormative lines than in an “indie” manga. In this case, Natsume/Tanuma would never be fully canon, but consistent subtext.

Quiet natural development. That is, if Natsume/Tanuma wasn’t originally intended but grew organically out of character development, then there’d have to be a transition period from “nominally platonic” to “explicitly romantic.” Since they’re both boys and this is a mainstream manga (not BL), it would have to be handled much more delicately than M/F romance.

Some combination of 1 and 2.

The first is actually fairly common and much more likely than the second, though the second is technically a slightly better fit with how things have gone so far. Either way, we’d still be at the “subtext” level for now. With the socio-cultural context Natsume is being written in, shifting a character from “presumed straight” to “explicitly queer” is a complicated maneuver. M/M ship bait is very common, and even a sympathetic audience won’t necessarily trust build-up to be real. So if you want your audience to actually follow the romantic development, it makes sense in theory to present it as platonic emotional development (with subtext) as long as possible before moving on to romantic text. And the subtext, for the most part, can’t be the sort of thing that reads as ship-bait. Which makes “eventually canon” difficult to distinguish from “intentional, but permanently subtext.” For this reason, I won't bother to separate the two.

So, drawing on the way Midorikawa-sensei has written in the past, my theoretical pro-Natsume/Tanuma progression looked like this:

A second chapter of Taki, in which Natsume is implied to be a brother figure (consistent with my initial subversive reading—there are a lot of parallels between Natsume fretting about Taki and Taki fretting about her brother + Natsume and her brother both have complicated relationships with yokai that conflict somewhat with Taki's fangirl-glasses). This creates a sense of depth and longevity to their relationship, while at the same time pushing a more explicitly platonic reading. The “omg Taki has a boyfriend” opening subtly injects a question of romance into the entire pseudo-arc (not so subtly into Taki’s half), answering with “no, they’re like siblings” to the Natsume/Taki question, but leaving Natsume/Tanuma open in the second part. Ideally the girl with the crush on Taki from the beginning should return at the end as a nod to the queer reading, and to close the “Taki needs to talk to more girls” loop that was interrupted by the fake boyfriend. 

The second part of the “pseudo-arc” would be two chapters heavily centered on Tanuma where:

There should be some sort of thematic parallel to the first (Taki) part, with a corresponding focus on Tanuma. I speculated that there might be a family theme, since we don’t know anything about Tanuma’s mom (in retrospect a poor guess—in Taki’s story the “family" was mirrored to Natsume), but it doesn’t matter what as long as it’s a definite parallel. [This is the basis for subtextually carrying the romantic question over to Tanuma.]

The parallel should be explicitly acknowledged in some way, however brief. [This acknowledges the existence of subtext and invites the reader to notice and pay attention.]

There should be other, smaller parallel moments, akin to the previous pseudo-arc’s Taki-Tanuma “lonely” mirroring. [This reinforces the existence of the parallel even though the plot is very different.]

The Tanuma story should escalate emotionally. For example, since Taki “listens to Natsume,” Tanuma should do something stronger like “take care of Natsume.” [This reinforces the romantic imagery, in contrast with something more brotherly.]

The trend of Tanuma being emotionally centered on Natsume, in contrast with Taki’s family focus, should continue. [ditto]

Tanuma’s feelings for Natsume should be more romanticized than Taki’s feelings, ideally on a level with “The Other Side of the Glass” and similar stories. [ditto]

No explicit references to romantic feelings, but a story more like a love story than Taki’s. Depth vs. surface. [ditto]

Ideally a reference to the “pond of emotional intimacy” would be super-great, but probably too much to ask. I think Midorikawa-Sensei forgot about it.

So what really did happen?

Just before returning to university, Taki’s brother says “I suppose I could leave [someone like] you in charge of my little sister,” which could be interpreted as deputizing Natsume as “older brother” in his absence. [I don’t want to make any definitive statements about translation at my level of Japanese—it can also be read as a patriarchal approval of the “presumed boyfriend,” though if Natsume is considering Taki that way, it doesn’t seem to fit Natsume and Sensei’s identical reactions.] Natsume then proceeds to explain her brother’s situation to Taki before happily allowing Girl-With-Crush to distract her with sweets. The ending feels very neat—as if their relationship issues have all been more or less dealt with. It’s essentially the opposite of what I expected from romantic Taki, in which we might see a certain ambiguous open-endedness, tension, or a sense that Natsume is reevaluating the way he sees Taki. There is none of that here.

And then there’s the next story. As predicted, it was heavily Tanuma-centered. This alone isn’t terribly meaningful, since we hadn’t seen Tanuma in a while. However, it also had a few… similarities to my outline:

It parallels Taki’s story with a “visitor” theme, and with the way the visitor arguably mirrors Natsume himself. 

Natsume acknowledges the thematic parallel: “A visitor every day? I wonder if it’s family like that time with Taki.” I had to take a moment here to laugh hysterically; I wasn't expected it to be this obvious. (Taki: “boyfriend” → family | Tanuma: “family” → ??)

Several mirrored moments, mostly in the first chapter, including “what kind of person?,” Nishimura as contrast, the running, the explanation-of-the-problem, the shocked reaction to meeting, the final-bench-discussion and so on.

“I always get her to listen to me.” → “He always listens and smiles for me.”; “I too [will listen to you] the way you always listen to me.”  → “You’ve kept me company so many times when I was mixed up with yōkai, so […] I will keep you company, too.” (When I initially wrote my outline, I had missed that he uses もらう for Taki’s listening, which downplays her intent. So even though his description of Tanuma is similar, this is an upgrade.)

Pretty blatant difference in romantic subtext, here. Taki is emotionally preoccupied with her brother and their grandfather. The climax is her brother giving her the gift he made with their grandfather as a small child. Tanuma is emotionally preoccupied with the gap in power between himself and Natsume and how that affects their relationship. The climax is watching their yōkai mirrors, in matching vessels, spiral together into the sky.

Tanuma clutches at his heart when Natsume calls his name. Tanuma wants to “see the same things Natsume sees, together,” Tanuma wishes he could be strong so Natsume wouldn’t “worry and [I/we could]…”. Natsume feels that Misuzu is “seeing through” him right after Tanuma calls him a friend. A lot of interruptions, unfinished sentences and unspoken feelings. Etc. Though Taki’s story opens with romantic cliche, and Natsume is very determined to be helpful, it’s Tanuma’s story that’s thick with romantic imagery. Taki’s story, by contrast, romanticizes the protective, sheltering image of the older brother, who cares for his little sister (and vice versa) even though they can't quite understand each other.

In terms of the “love story”: again, Taki’s emotions are centered on her brother. Tanuma’s are centered on Natsume, with even his desire to get to know yōkai being fundamentally tied to Natsume. Tanuma in particular is written with strong undertones of longing and trying to find a way closer, while Natsume gets little chance to think deeply or speak to Tanuma alone, distracted by the Misuzu problem and how it relates to Tanuma’s health and happiness. Tanuma’s story is also much more open-ended. While Taki’s story seems to end with a sense of satisfaction, Tanuma’s is full of tension. The question of how they come together safely (platonically or otherwise) remains unresolved.

The pond continues to play a metaphorical role as a place that symbolizes what they do or don’t share. Though Tanuma cannot see the pond itself, he can see shadows ordinary people cannot—in “Same Scenery” he referred to these shadows as something only the two of them could see. For Misuzu and Sasame, it is a literal halfway point between their marshes, and a place where they meet specifically to be together.[IMO, this is why it doesn't appear in "The Days-Eater": the symbolism of the pond is specifically tied to the two of them, so it would be inapproprate to reference it in Taki's presence.]

So… what does this mean? I don’t know. I promised myself I would let go of the queer reading if I got anything less than a Taki-Tanuma pseudo-arc—even if I got a story that heavily romanticized Tanuma without paralleling Taki’s story. Actually getting what I wanted, exactly what I wanted, is less satisfying than it might seem. Set against the overwhelming prevalence of heteronormativity, it's left me in a curious limbo of uncertainty. It’s hard to swallow the idea that my accuracy was a complete coincidence, but I may have been wrong about the reasons for this pattern. 

While it’s objectively lazy, there’s a great deal of precedent in letting superficial romantic features like “cuteness” supersede features like devotion, so long as the former is opposite sex and the latter same sex. In other words, I may have the pattern backwards, with Tanuma being set up as platonic soulmate, and Taki as the romantic lead. Perhaps we are meant to draw a parallel between Tanuma and Taki’s brother as a “difficult older brother” figure (even though Tanuma is younger), given they are both “easily possessed.” If so, they have little else in common. The (simultaneous??) mirroring between Tanuma and Taki would probably be for the purpose of establishing Natsume’s most important platonic, non-family-like relationship as equally important to romance. This isn’t exactly inconsistent with the emphasis the manga places on the importance of platonic love.

Still, it’s an odd choice to make Taki’s feelings primarily about someone else if the story is meant to set a romance in motion, particularly in contrast to Tanuma. And the older brother/Natsume mirroring would have to be unintentional, since it’s a bit, um, awkward otherwise, which would mean the undeniable Misuzu/Natsume mirroring is coincidental. And so on. At its heteronormative best, “The Troublesome Two” is a story about Natsume’s crush on Taki, and Taki’s love for her brother and late grandfather. At its potential best, it’s a subversive story about how an unrelated boy and a girl can care deeply about each other without having romantic feelings—and about how girls aren’t necessarily more emotionally and socially competent than boys just because they’re girls.

In any case, Tanuma’s story is worth looking at a bit more closely.

First, a summary of the actual plot:

Tanuma receives a mysterious, persistent, explicitly gender-ambiguous “human” visitor who turns out to be Misuzu (the powerful horse yōkai) in disguise. He’s excited by the opportunity to get to know a yōkai, so Natsume decides to support him, despite his fears, by hovering like gnat and glaring at Misuzu while they go around looking at scenery. Eventually it’s revealed that Tanuma has been quietly possessed by Misuzu’s fellow marsh guardian… soulmate… friend thing, and that it’s this “Sasame” who Misuzu has been interested in, rather than Tanuma. There’s a climax where Sasame tries to escape being removed from Tanuma, and Tanuma empathizes with their relative lack of power because he sees Sasame (who is very weak) with Misuzu as being similar to himself with Natsume. Sensei confronts Sasame about their motivations, thereby leading to Sasame voluntarily leaving and joining Misuzu in their wooden-doll-possessing-competition… thing. 

Though nominally platonic, the story is romantic and emotional, centering on the gap in power between Natsume and Tanuma and their mutual attempts to bridge that gap without actually talking about it.

The first thing I’d like to talk about is the imagery.

Chronologically left to right this time. Tanuma looks odd on the right because of Sasame. Friendly reminder that Midorikawa-Sensei hates drawing hands.

Japanese culture is not physically demonstrative or openly emotional in general, but young children and teen girls are allowed far more leeway than teen boys and adults. So much so that teen girls can even hold hands in a “romantic” way and still be assumed to be straight. This is not as visible in Natsume Yūjinchō as in Midorikawa-sensei’s other work, since there’s only one recurring teen girl. But it is visible in her art for Season 6 of the anime, where Sasada and Taki are holding hands in the background. It’s also apparent in the way that different characters express themselves. Female characters are more physically emotional, and more visibly vulnerable than male characters. For example, male characters do not usually hold their hands in front of their stomach or their chest—a somewhat defensive gesture—and will ball up their fists at their side instead. (Or use Sensei as a shield.) Male vulnerability is mostly expressed through facial expressions.

So even for a boy like Tanuma, this kind of emotional gesture is notable. A single example would be interesting. Two is suspicious. Three is a pattern. This fits the theory that this story is meant to break open a new arc in Natsume and Tanuma’s relationship; changing course requires far more effort than staying on the new course. It’s exactly what Taki’s story was yelling about right before it veered off into “family” territory—except Tanuma’s story stayed consistent. The hand-over-heart, standing-on-water scene was on the very first page, without even a chapter cover to get in the way. The longing, out-stretched hand is from a scene that sets the emotional context for Tanuma’s behavior. The heart-clutching is part of the climax. Every one of these is directly or implicitly linked to his feelings about Natsume.

The out-stretched hand is particularly important. This is the dialog that sets it up:

あのヒト妖だったのか… すごいものだな　普通に人間に見えているのに… ささいで小さな妖との繋がりのかけら　夏目はいつもあんなに苦労している　それを知ってるのに夏目が見ているものを一緒に見てみたいと思ってしまう　ー夏目は強い　おれもそうだったらあんなに心配させずにー　… どうしたんだ　おれらしくもない　…なんだか欲ばりだ

“[Spoken aloud to himself] That person was an ayakashi…? What an amazing thing. Even though they look like an ordinary human… [Internally] Such a tiny, insignificant fragment of a connection to ayakashi. Natsume is always going through so much trouble. I know that, but I still find myself thinking I’d like to see the things he sees, together. —Natsume is strong. If I were too, without worrying him— [it would be possible to do something]… What’s the deal? That’s not like me. …Kind of greedy.”

When Tanuma is talking to Natsume about something similar in “Tenjō-san,” his wording is vague, potentially even reading as envy though that doesn’t really suit the context. He says he’d “like to see the same world as [Natsume], sometimes.” Here in the privacy of his own mind, he’s more clear. This scene, with it’s implication that Tanuma wants to share Natsume’s world, is implicitly romantic—particularly in light of Taki’s furry yōkai story. 

Though there were several moments when Natsume seemed suspicious of the nature of the furry yōkai’s feelings for Taki (never explicit), it’s reading the letter at the end that seems to convince him. In this letter, the yōkai expresses their gratitude for Taki’s help, and their desire to “see the beautiful mountains and beautiful valleys” with Taki. In fact, the wording itself is suspiciously familiar.

If we set aside the obvious differences and focus on the emotional core of the letter, we get:

[~]をともに見てみたいと思ってしまった。

“I found myself thinking I’d like to see [the beautiful mountains and beautiful valleys] together.”

Compare Tanuma:

[~]を一緒に見てみたいと思ってしまう。

“I find myself thinking I’d like to see [the things Natsume sees] together.”

There are two differences here. One, the word for “together”: the yokai’s letter uses the formal/written ともに, whereas Tanuma’s thought uses the casual/spoken 一緒に. The words are otherwise completely identical in meaning, so this difference should probably be considered functionally meaningless. The other difference is actually in Tanuma’s favor.

What I translated as “I find/found myself thinking” is the auxiliary verb しまう. This word has no real equivalent in English. It means “to finish completely” but is commonly used to add a nuance of lack of intention and probably regret to an action. For example, where an English speaker might say “Oh no, I forgot!” the Japanese speaker would say “I forgot—shimatta!” If “shimatta” sounds familiar, that’s because it’s very common and can even be used on its own (where it is frequently—and hilariously—translated as “damn”).

Here both furry yōkai and Tanuma are using しまう to express regret or even self-reproach for their seemingly futile desires as well as (in Tanuma’s case) the sense that the desire is selfish. The difference is the conjugation. Furry yōkai uses the perfective aspect—often taught as “past tense” because that’s the primary use—which indicates the completion of an action. Tanuma is using the imperfective, which indicates a lack of completion either because something is ongoing (recurring, not continuous), or because it is yet to be performed at all (future).

Grammatically there are a few different interpretations of perfective vs imperfective, but in this context only one thing makes sense. The furry yōkai is encapsulating his desire as a singular experience, something they have wrapped up and set to the side (consistent with their refusal to engage directly with Taki or allow Natsume to do so for them) and don’t expect to deal with in the future. Tanuma, on the other hand, considers this desire to be an issue he struggles with repeatedly and sees no quick end to. Even though he, like the furry yōkai, knows it to be impossible, he can’t let it go—and nor can the story.

Regardless of any potential parallels to Taki’s furry yōkai, this desire to see yōkai in order to share them with Natsume is a major theme. While we do occasionally go a few pages without being reminded, Tanuma’s motivations in this story are neither subtle nor subtext. The logic is fairly straightforward:

Knowing a yōkai ⇒ having a connection to the yōkai world ⇒ having a connection to Natsume’s world ⇒ being closer to Natsume.

The scene above lays it out all but explicitly, but this motivation is referenced multiple times (not in order):

—“I can’t let him keep worrying forever. If there’s anything that would help hurry things along even a little…” [While investigating a dream.]

—“I was happy that your ayakashi friend seemed to take an interest in me.”

––“[I miss feeling like I knew a yōkai but] I still had a good time, in the end. I got to see the same things as you.”

—“So that means I get to know a yōkai Natsume knows?”

The last one is rather telling. First, because it confirms the connection to Natsume is important to him. Second, because he says it while holding Sensei. Sensei does not “count” for this purpose because Sensei is not inaccessible. Even completely ordinary people like Nishimura and Kitamoto interact with Sensei on a regular basis, albeit without realizing he can talk. Tanuma wants more than that. But even more, he wants more than what’s available to, well, Taki—the other “ordinary” person who talks to Sensei.

Yet all of this serves only to reinforce a pre-existing theme. For Taki, the yōkai world is intrinsically emotionally bound to her grandfather. For Tanuma, it’s emotionally bound to Natsume himself. Further, he sees it as a barrier between them that he needs power to overcome. This has a long-running basis:

—When they first meet, Natsume makes it clear he wants to talk to Tanuma because he believes Tanuma can see the same things. Tanuma, likewise, wants to meet Natsume because he’s heard they’re similar. It makes sense, then, that he would see their relationship—and his worth as a friend—as being strongly tied to yōkai.

—In Tanuma’s special, his second major appearance, he frets about his weakness being the reason Natsume always lies and disappears without warning. He knows that Natsume is trying to protect him from yōkai trouble, but secretly fights the fear that Natsume is disappointed in his lack of power. The story ends with him wondering whether Natsume will ever tell him “what color the fish [in Tanuma’s yōkai pond] are” and whether he’ll ever be able to ask. Natsume talking about the yōkai pond, then, is established as a metaphor for Natsume opening up and treating Tanuma as a genuine friend.

—In the mirror arc, Tanuma borrows the yokai’s sight (i.e. power) because he wants to see what Natsume is reacting to. The yōkai later tells Natsume “It was what he wanted. […] Even though he knows [you’re trying to be kind] he doesn’t understand. Even though he’s right beside you, not knowing…” Earlier in the story, there’s a mildly comic set of exchanges where he repeatedly gushes about how “amazing” Natsume’s ability is.

—In “The Other Side of the Glass,” Tanuma’s flashback to Natsume not paying attention while he plays shogi connects the yōkai world to Tanuma’s perception of being kept at a distance. That is, Natsume is mentally drawn away from Tanuma by things that Tanuma (normally) cannot even see and therefore cannot work against. Tanuma eventually breaks down because he feels that in trying to be involved, he’s become “a burden” who “doesn’t know how far to intrude” and “doesn’t want to put up walls because of that.” At the end, he’s wistful about leaving the yōkai world and losing his sight.

—In “Distant Festival Lights” Tanuma reveals he “never even imagined” that yōkai were real until he met Natsume. Thus yōkai as something real to be wondered at must be inextricably bound to Natsume himself.

For several stories afterward, this desire is shifted to the background as the narrative focuses on what Tanuma can do: provide emotional support (as with Natsume’s story about his unwed grandmother) and run interference in the background. Tanuma’s desire to see yōkai does not come up during this calm period. However, the theme starts to creep back in with the ryokan story, along with his lack of faith in his own abilities—he assumes a real vision was “just a dream” because there’s nothing there when he wakes up, and apologizes to Natsume for reacting to it.

In Tenjō-san, he talks about how he feels about Natsume’s world:

夏目の世界はあいまいなものがいっぱいなんだな　おれは…やっぱり時々夏目と同じ世界を見てみたいなと思うけど　見えるものが違うからこそ確認しあえることもあるのかもしれないなって…

“Your [Natsume’s] world is full of ambiguous things, isn’t it? I… still think I’d like to the the same world as you, sometimes. But I also think maybe there are times when it’s because the things we see are different that we can confirm things for each other.” [Emphasis is original.]

In other words, this story is really just foregrounding something that’s always been subtext.

Which brings me to my next point: the use of mirroring. I assumed from the start that Misuzu was a mirror for Natsume in order to parallel Taki’s brother as a mirror. There seemed to be some basis for this in the first chapter—in spending so much time talking with Tanuma, Misuzu was preventing Natsume from talking to Tanuma. (Natsume frets about not getting to talk to Tanuma “at all” because the guest had been coming “for a few days.”) And in taking Tanuma around to look at various scenery, Misuzu’s actions are suspiciously similar to what Natsume worries about failing at: “Even though I have him right beside me, I keep him company with nothing but talk of scenery we cannot share.” [Emphasis mine.] The mirroring ended up being more explicit than I expected: Tanuma openly compares Sasame and Misuzu’s relationship to his with Natsume. This is an interesting narrative technique, for a couple of reasons.

Sasame—and Misuzu in particular—are not just yōkai. They are yōkai who act very differently from humans, to the point that it’s specifically highlighted. Of all the yōkai Natsume knows, Misuzu is one of the least human. They chose the form of a horse. They have a frog as a “retainer.” They once “tested" Natsume’s worthiness with a deadly curse. And in this story itself, they complain that they don’t understand why Natsume won’t just order them around, even though they specifically allowed him that power. In other words, they express themselves in ways that are not easily mapped onto human behavior. This is important because it allows the Misuzu/Sasame to Natsume/Tanuma mirroring to be opaque in many ways. For example, it’s not at all clear what the Natsume/Tanuma equivalent of possessing identical dolls and having a boisterous contest would be. This means that the story can move forward with strong emotional overtones while also refusing to define exactly what kind of relationship they’re supposed to have. It’s a convenient excuse to have two characters behave in a very romantic way without having to justify why they’re not actually in a romantic relationship. This is nearly the opposite of Taki’s story, where the use of her brother as mirror (if intentional) has strongly platonic overtones.

Another example of deliberate (and clever) muddling is in the presentation of Sasame and Tanuma’s emotions while Sasame inhabits Tanuma. Both characters are implied to be influenced by the other. Tanuma says “What’s the deal? That’s not like me. Kind of greedy.” Later, Sasame tells Sensei not to worry about Tanuma because “There was something off with me. [It’s not like me to] take advantage of the child of man this way.” Neither of them are really suggesting that the nature of emotions are strange, only more self-centered than usual. This suggests that their desires are so aligned, they effectively amplified each other, creating a stronger sense of desperation and thus greed. For example, both of them enjoyed their “daily routine” with Misuzu and Natsume, for related reasons. Sasame wanted to share Misuzu’s world, and Tanuma wanted to share Natsume’s world via Misuzu. 

However, since Sasame!Tanuma’s actions are influenced by the emotions of both characters, it’s difficult to tease out exactly who is feeling what. When Tanuma is so happy to get dragged off by Misuzu, is that because—as he later tells Natsume—he was “happy that your ayakashi friend seemed to take an interest in me”—happy that part of Natsume’s world was actively trying to involve him? Or was it because Sasame was happy about Misuzu’s active involvement? To a certain extent, it’s beside the point. These characters are mirrors. What Tanuma feels about Misuzu is what Sasame feels about Misuzu is what Tanuma feels about Natsume. Both want to be closer and more involved. Both are afraid of being left behind, of being “unable to keep up.”

On a similar note, we return to the mirroring between Natsume and Misuzu. Misuzu smirks through much of the story, but shows serious vulnerability on more than one occasion—right before returning to smirking. This suggests that Misuzu is hiding just how invested they are. Though they express themselves in very yōkai-like ways, Misuzu is just as concerned about Sasame as Natsume is about Tanuma. Misuzu even uses the same phrase, 付き合う or “to keep company,” as Natsume. That is, Natsume says he will “keep [Tanuma] company” with Misuzu because Tanuma has “kept me company so many times when I was involved with yōkai.” Misuzu later explains their own behavior, saying that they only intended to “keep Sasame company in whatever it is they want to do.” Both, then, are shown to not entirely understand their companions motivations, but to want to indulge them regardless. The implication is that they mirror each other in their style of showing affection.

Further, both Misuzu and Natsume seem clueless as to their companion’s desires. Natsume shows progress in understanding, but is repeatedly distracted by Misuzu. Misuzu, for their part, claims that Sasame retains possession of Tanuma because Tanuma is “comfortable” and “easy to possess,” apparently unaware that Sasame is specifically enjoying the new type of companionship with Misuzu that having a human body offers. On the same note, Misuzu’s confusion about why they want to spend time with Sasame!Tanuma in such “odd” ways is interesting in the context of being Natsume’s mirror. It suggests that Natsume himself does not quite understand how he feels about spending time with Tanuma like this. The reveal that Misuzu was actually talking to Sasame only makes this confusion more poignant: Misuzu does not understand why they are enjoying simply walking around, looking at nostalgic places with their favorite companion, when they had come for a boisterous contest. This is another good example of how being yōkai make the parallels somewhat opaque.

Another interesting point is the way in which Natsume’s feelings balance Tanuma’s. Though we’re given somewhat more access into how Tanuma feels, due to Natsume being distracted by Misuzu, we do get a hint of the broader problem. Natsume is worried about whether Tanuma will “listen and smile” for him “forever.” Then he chides himself for only “keeping Tanuma company with nothing but talk of scenery we cannot share.” When Tanuma sympathizes with Sasame, he points out how “unbearably painful” it is to be “unable to keep up with your friend.” Both Natsume and Tanuma use いつでも “forever” in the context of trying to make their companion happy. For Tanuma, it’s because he knows he worries Natsume. For Natsume, it’s the concern about Tanuma's interest in "scenery we cannot share." Tanuma is worried about spiritual power, and how it would (in theory) facilitate being closer to Natsume. Natsume, on the other hand, is worried about his actual relationship skills. He knows that he’s not giving Tanuma as much as he should, but doesn’t seem to have any ideas about what he should give. The only thing we have to go on is “scenery we cannot share,” which suggests that moving forward might involve finding scenery they can share—exactly like they did with Misuzu. So there’s a sense that they’re both actively trying to find a way forward, but they’re not communicating well enough to do it right.

There is one way in which the story could be read as explicitly platonic. When describing the marshes that they and Sasame protect, Misuzu describes them as being “like identical twins.” If this is intended to mark them as “surrogate twins,” then obviously that would be a platonic reading. However, I don’t think this is the case. Instead, I think this more “soulmate” subtext. After all, it’s not Misuzu and Sasame who are described as “identical twins,” but the appearance of their homes. And place, in Natsume Yūjinchō, is often a stand-in for something like heart.

For example, many of Taki’s stories happen in her home, to symbolize the importance of family to her. Likewise, the Fujiwaras home is a symbol of the affection and safe boundaries they provide to Natsume. Natsume had to let go of the “Natsume” family home before he could move on from the loss of his parents. More dramatic is Reiko’s field of flowers: isolated, hidden from human and yōkai alike, a secret for Reiko alone, yet beautiful—and blue for Souko, the girl who came the closest to seeing her true self. The pond that’s so important for this story is also symbolic: it’s both the place where Natsume and Tanuma’s powers meet and the place where Misuzu and Sasame meet to be together.

But more directly relevant is the story of Gen and Sui: the gods who inhabited a “set of two” dog statues and protected a village from afar, until Sui’s statue was destroyed and she became a demon. The term 一対 implies either a perfectly matched set, or items that are nearly identical but with a twist (like male and female or silver and gold). So while the word “twin” wasn’t used in that story, it’s conceptually very similar to how the marshes were described. Misuzu is an explicitly genderless horse-person and Sasame is literally formless, but Gen and Sui were heavily anthropomorphized and explicitly gendered as male and female. And while the nature of their relationship is never explicit, Gen and Sui made much more sense as a romantic couple than as siblings. For one thing, their style of speech is consistent with an old-fashioned couple (similar to Touko-san and Shigeru-san’s). They also use similar romantic language as other couples, like wanting to “be able to be together forever” and being “happy because you were there.” So the reading that Sasame and Misuzu’s “twin” marshes are symbols of emotional compatibility—and their need to be together—is at least consistent with how Midorikawa-sensei has written in the past.

For a while I was troubled by the symbolism of Sasame’s fading marsh in this context. It’s a terrible fit for Misuzu and Sasame (and thus Natsume and Tanuma) being “like identical twins,” but didn’t seem to fit much better with the idea of their hearts being “like identical twins.” But eventually it occurred to me that the fading of Sasame’s marsh along with their powers did fit with a certain view of “heart”—just not the limited scope of love. In Japanese, “heart” has roughly the same set of metaphorical meanings as in English, but with an additional dash of “mind” depending on context. So think emotions, deep thoughts, sincere beliefs. Sort of an “inner self” thing. In this context it’s easier to understand how Sasame’s heart has been weakened. With their diminishing existence and the “widening gap” in power, Sasame is emotionally stretched thin. Fading hope, the strain of feeling left behind by someone they adore, the belief that the one thing they have no control over is the one thing that matters the most. This is Sasame’s fading heart—and this is what they have in common with Tanuma.

And in fact this fits Sasame’s dialog, as they wonder whether taking advantage of Tanuma, and focusing so much on Misuzu’s power, means their heart has grown “barren” along with their power.

This might be depressing but for the implication that it’s not actually Sasame’s or Tanuma’s power itself that has made them feel this way. It’s the fact that they have been following an old, inadequate rulebook with Misuzu (and Natsume), and need to communicate in order to adapt. Sasame frets about power, but when they comment on the “liveliness” around Misuzu, Sensei makes a point:

にぎやかから満たされているとも限るまい

“I suppose we can’t assume that lively surroundings always mean that one is fulfilled.”

This triggers Sasame’s memory of Misuzu’s “nostalgia” comments, and their realization that “It’s not as if [Misuzu] came hoping I would just be strong.” In other words, there is something about Sasame (Tanuma) that is important to Misuzu (Natsume) that cannot be replaced by all the other “lively” people and yōkai in the world. What exactly this means for them and their future is left unspoken, but it’s clearly emotional:

“I’m sorry [for what I did], child of Man. Surely, even without being able to keep up…[something they want will be possible]”

The way the story ends, as well, feels pointed. As I mentioned earlier, Taki’s story did not fit my conception of “setting a romantic arc in motion” because it felt too finished. The only thing arguably unfinished in the end is Taki’s new friendship with Girl-With-Crush. The end-cap is Natsume cheerfully affirming the importance of keeping promises to family-figures (in this case Sensei, to whom he promised an eclair for dealing with Taki). This is superimposed over an image of the gift from Taki’s brother and grandfather: a rock painted with floral designs (it's a fake yokai connection [the stonewashers], but authentic feelings). The overall feeling is that Natsume has solved all their issues. He convinced Taki she could talk to him, figured out why her brother was acting weird and helped the siblings uncover the gift that was meant to help tie them together, then finally observed Taki having positive social interaction with someone who wasn’t yōkai-adjacent. (Note that Natsume had nothing to do with Taki’s new friendship; it was the girl herself who worked up the courage to approach Taki. And she used sweets—the language Taki speaks—to do so, showing a higher level of mental compatibility than anyone else thus far.) There’s no sense that Natsume’s feelings about Taki have shifted, that he sees her any differently, or that he has any curiosity about her future romantic life.

On the other hand, the ending of Tanuma’s story does what Taki’s didn’t: it leaves a suggestive opening. Tanuma happily says goodbye “Again, tomorrow!” in much the same way as Misuzu has been, implying a return to regular close interaction—and perhaps a more deliberately “daily” interaction. Then Misuzu reappears, and smirkingly tells Natsume “Tanuma Kaname is a rather fun/interesting guy.” Choosing to use Tanuma’s full name for the first time is all but a wink, and using 中々 for “rather” suggests either they’ve begun to see Tanuma with new eyes—or they think Natsume has and they’re making a point of noticing— 中々 has a connotation of “unusually high” or “more than expected.” Natsume’s unimpressed reaction suggests he’s not pleased at the idea of Misuzu’s renewed interest or teasing, and he pointedly reminds Misuzu of Sasame, asking how their “contest” went. Misuzu’s counter that it is, essentially, private is overlaid on an image of the contest’s meeting place: the pond which, to Tanuma, symbolizes both the connection and the barrier between him and Natsume. The pond whose dripping water Natsume was distracted from when Misuzu arrived. This has a strong implication that there’s something about Natsume and Tanuma’s relationship that’s not meant to be shared outside the two of them.

This is all… more than a bit suggestive. But it’s not explicit.

It’s not clear how Misuzu and Sasame will move forward, considering they ended with the same “competition” as usual, but we know they have learned from the experience. Both Misuzu and Sasame found that they enjoyed a quieter way of being together, and Sasame began to realize that Misuzu sees them as more than just someone to play games of strength with.

Likewise it’s not clear how Natsume and Tanuma will move forward, though the fact that they spent time basically looking at scenery together is a neat counterpoint to Natsume’s lament that he “does nothing but talk about scenery we cannot share.” It’s also something they can do without Misuzu or Sasame—as they did with the fireworks so long ago. They do make explicit progress when Natsume, hurt by Tanuma’s reticence, reminds him that “it doesn’t matter whether it’s yōkai or not, if something is bothering you, you should tell me!” However, this is only a single facet of their problem. It’s the sort of thing they ought to have been taking for granted by now, but it doesn’t really answer the question of what they can actively do together to find contentment. There’s a sense that they’re making progress, but still have somewhere to go. Acknowledging that they want to talk about something other than yōkai is simply the first step in that direction.

In the end, there’s still quite a bit I haven’t gotten into: the use of suspiciously suggestive wording, and the way Misuzu is positioned as a subtextual rival. The way Tanuma’s insecurity about his powers mirrors his insecurity about his relationship with Natsume. The various connections to earlier stories. Tanuma’s romanticization of selflessness and the way this, with his insecurity, is an obstacle in their relationship. But this meta needed to end at some point, so this is as good as any.

I’m still uncertain as to the intent of this story. I still don’t know whether it meant to lay down romantic subtext or just sort of stumbled clumsily into it. But no matter what, it’s a deeply emotional story that solidifies Tanuma’s singularity and significance, and the importance of being closer to Natsume. So whatever may happen with Taki, or with Tanuma, there is some comfort to be had in that.