3-gatsu no Lion 2nd Season

Maybe life is a thing of beauty. We just don't know where to find it. Perhaps it's in the heart of a young girl who is willing to stand up to adversity. Or maybe it's in the spirit of that old grandfather refusing to accept the inevitability for the sake of her grand daughters. Or does it lie in the will of that young boy, born with illness yet refusing to move away from his ambitions. Or is in the work of that veteran who's only solace lay in his craft. Perhaps it's in the mind of the man who had lost one of his sensesand yet lives to perfect his skills. We could ask these questions for as long as we live. Alas they will remain unanswered. Is there a beauty to life? Maybe not. But I do know, for an undeniable fact that I do find the journey of this young Lion of March Beautiful.

A strong display of emotional resonance; the second season of 3-gatsu no Lion manages to go above and beyond expectations to provide something of overwhelming beauty. It’s a show of many acts; the first season—while boasting many heavy themes—is an elegant watch, which reels the viewer in with a soft mood, realistic characters and delightful interactions, but never hits you with strong emotions. The second season—filled with melancholic tones, depressing themes and powerful messages—gives the show raw emotional power to invest the viewer at full force. Shifting from the focus of Rei’s depression, this season brings more focus to the different mentalities of the supporting cast, bothin the real world and the back-drop of shogi. The season starts off with a focus on Hinata, and the daunting problem of bullying. Bringing forth an insight into the mass hysteria it brings and the draining effects on the victims, and those caught up in the drama. This arc is nothing short of impactful, and although it’s heavy, it never becomes painful to watch, something many other drama-oriented series fail to accomplish. What makes this so powerful is down to the commonly relatable topic of bullying, the powerful visual presentation and the amazing characterisation found in the antagonist Megumi Takagi. Megumi’s construct as a bully sets her apart from other archetypical antagonists—in the sense that, there are reasons to her actions—she clearly suffers problems in her mentality, leading her to torment others as a form of escapism, giving her somewhat an ability to be emphasised with for the wrong reason. It’s even easier to empathise with Hina, due to her characteristics, with her helping Rei with his struggles and inspiring him to escape his depression. Rei feels the same on the topic of helping her, creating a close bond between the two, something that plays importance throughout the rest of this season. Although the first arc is definitely in the lime-light of this season, the series continues to impress in its focuses on different characters. The character study of Souya Touji is a breath-taking display of a mind disturbed solely by the life-style of shogi, with stunning direction to show his inability to hear those around him. The shogi match between Shimada and Yanagiharai uses profound visual imagery to show the determination of both characters and the weight Yanagihara carries. And the pleasant moments with Hina give the show a relaxing and charming escapism from the heavier themes. I don’t consider the cast to be merely characters, they feel human. From Rei to Nikaidou to Yanagihara; each one has strong human characteristics that allow for relatability and empathy for these personalities as we see into their differing lives. Even though Rei has less focus this season, his role as the lead character is as strong as ever as he seeks a way to help those around him. It’s inspiring to watch, as Rei’s empathy drives him to assist in fighting the varying problems that arise for everyone close to him. His outlook and narration provide a strong connection from the viewer as he continues to improve his life which was once locked in place by his haunting past. As the main character, his journey is an impeccable experience and he is character of relatability and complexity. This season exposes elements of characters unbeknownst from the first season, such as the extent of Nikadou’s illness, the pressure Akari feels being unable to help Hina and the different psychological and emotional effects each character experiences in accordance to their surroundings. Each revelation is equally as tense and creates stronger connection to the characters once their situations are understood. Studio SHAFT empowers storytelling through visual motifs and stunning presentation, bringing everything to life with powerful imagery to reflect the mood each scene portrays. Every visual element is a sight to behold, with gorgeous backgrounds, varying styles and ability to speak many words through its delivery that bring out many emotions from the viewer. This mood is only enhanced by the stunning soundtrack composition. Melancholic tracks reflecting the depressing yet elegant mood can easily bring you to tears, acting as peaceful additions to the stunning composition of visuals and story. For a while now I’ve been pondering over the topic of depression, this in turn has affected the way I view anime titles, and what I get out of said titles. While Cardcaptor Sakura healed me from having negative thoughts, End of Evangelion’s existential elements blew my mind away so much that the thought of depression was no longer on my mind. But, I think the best form of escapism from a feeling like depression is facing it head on, and that’s exactly what 3-gatsu gave me; giving me personal affection to its elements. To me, 3-gatsu no Lion is the epitome of human emotion, an experience rivalled by none. A show that has brought me to tears almost every episode, and something I hope many others can appreciate in the same way.

A shrill. As he stretches to fight the leftover sluggishness of a satisfying sleep, he decides to step out on the balcony. The warm wind of a mellow morning slowly brushes past his fragile frame as if greeting him friendly. The sunshine reflects from the river just beneath the railing; a lustrous shimmer signals the change of seasons. He leaves the apartment. A lot has changed over the past year: his listless demeanor is all but gone; he has made friends and acquaintances—he isn’t alone any more. His steps have become strong and determined. He has moved on. This show is not about him. Just likeRei, 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

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