Joey.

Within the Nana fandom, it is a widely acknowledged fact that Nana Komatsu ( who I will be calling Hachi for convenience) is written and portrayed as a clingy and needy character. Naturally, the effect that such a personality has on the viewers varies, with some enjoying and even empathising with Hachi, while others feel less inclined to such character archetypes, or even real life people, for a plethora of different reasons.

However, I believe that while this aspect of her personality is often highlighted, it plays a much deeper narrative role than it is given credit for. What may initially have seemed like a benign and overused personality trait — Hachi’s need for connection — actually plays a much larger role in shaping the course of her life, and understanding her relationship with loneliness and attachment allows for a greater understanding of her decisions within the anime and manga ( understanding not justification)

To do this we must examine how Ai Yazawa chooses to present Hachi to us, the viewers, in the first few episodes / chapters, and why. Hachi from the get go is depicted to be boy crazy - a girl with her head in the clouds. Someone who is quick to endear herself to others, and even quicker to idolise them - she is a character that wholeheartedly indulges in and thrives off love and attention, even if it is at the expense of her own wishes and dignity (will elaborate). We follow Hachi through her intense attachments - from her art teacher, to the pizza delivery boy, to the guy in the shop, to Asano. Out of all these attachments, we think we can see a recurring theme - they are all of romantic nature, and showcase Hachis constant search and desire to be loved. And yet there is a character whose interactions with Hachi are even more telling of Hachi’s priorities, and which I think is often undermined in the fandom due to the focus of Hachi's romantic pursuits, yet crucial to the foreshadowing and understanding of Hachi’s character and story.

Junko. We see a bond established between them right at the beginning of the anime/manga, while we're still getting to know Hachi, which serves as a key foundation for her characterisation. Hachi follows Junko to art school simply because Junko went. We observe as Hachi interacts with Junko, seeking advice,comfort and security from her, while also allowing herself to be condescended and even embarrassed by Junko. An example of this is when Junko tells Shoji and kyosuke as soon as Hachi meets them that she is loud and has a long history with men. While these traits aren't inherently negative, in the context of the society and time the manga is set in, they were not viewed as favourable traits for women. Hachi's initial protests at having these aspects of her life exposed are telling. Junko can tend at times at the start of the story to be very brisk and sometimes even outright insensitive to Hachi. Yet, when Junko decides to go to Tokyo, Hachi tearfully begs her to stay, even diminishing Kyosuke's importance to his face in an effort to keep Junko close. Realising it would be unfair to hold Junko back from her dreams, Hachi impulsively decides to apply to schools in Tokyo as well. She had no money, no set career aspirations, and no solid plans, yet was adamant to join her friend.

And this brings us to the key aspect of Hachi’s character that Ai Yazawa informed us of from very early on: she will uproot her whole life in order to not be alone. And this trait is depicted throughout all her relationships, platonic and romantic. Hachi may be boy obsessed, but to diminish her later actions to just that is a disservice to Ai Yazawa’s writing skills, as in these pivotal few scenes, Hachi’s past and future link and meld together immaculately - Hachi’s decision to stay with Takumi was foreshadowed and hinted at phenomenally from the very start of the story through Hachi’s past, and how it shaped her interactions with other characters. Her actions were rooted more in a desperate need for companionship and fear for loneliness than, as some people believe, a habit of putting her romantic relationships on a pedestal - and Ai Yazawa has reminded us of this throughout the story.

Hachi grew up in a loud and rather indifferent household where she grew up ( as a middle child) thinking that her absence would just mean less noise in the household, a thought probably encouraged by her parents' passive and impartial approach to parenting and her growing up, giving her an excess of freedom instead of the attention Hachi desired growing up. Given such an environment, she developed an anxious attachment style, clinging onto whatever relationships she has in order to avoid feeling lonely and isolated, such as her friendship with Junko. She compares the feeling to be worse than Asano breaking up with her - the moment when she realised the extent of her unrequited love and the fragility of relationships, causing her to come to terms fully with the threat of loneliness and abandonment. This concept and revelation seems to haunt her visibly throughout the first few episodes, and more insipidly years later as she still seeks companionship and intimacy to avoid the depression and fear she feels when encountering the emotion that she has correlated with feeling unwanted and used.

So given this, it makes Hachis decision to stay with Takumi even more painstakingly in line with her character. Hachi is not written to be a perfect character for readers to project their own morals into - Hachi is young, still rather sheltered and unsure of her place in the world. She thrives off others' reassurance and the security they provide her - when she feels this is being threatened ( such as when she saw Nana interact with Tsuzuki) she spirals. So when she found out she was pregnant, Takumi very intentionally divulged the information without giving Hachi a chance to prepare, recognising Hachi’s intense aversion to being alone, and exploited it in the scenario to fit his interests in keeping her by his side. Hachi was at this part of the story in a very vulnerable and insecure position. She feared and expected rejection and disappointment from her friends, a reflection of her own and society's negative and sexist feelings on her situation, and saw herself as alone. Blast was excelling and becoming increasingly busy, Junko and Kyosuke were occupied in their own daily lives, and she saw herself with nobody to turn to for help or support, and was too ashamed to ask for it from people she held in such high regard. She believed she had nobody who could give her the stability and comfort she has sought for consistently throughout the manga/anime in her friends and romantic partners.

Nobody but Takumi. Hachi knew she would not be happy. She knew that she did not love him and was not loved the way she always idealised. She knew that by marrying Takumi and raising the child with him she would be sacrificing her friends’ trust and opinions of her, and putting herself in a situation that may seem like what she always wanted ( financial stability and a family) , but was less than ideal in reality. But she ended up marrying Takumi - because she believed Takumi at the time was the only one who would accept her, who would not be any more angry and disappointed at her than she was with herself. She saw him as the only option that guaranteed the security she yearned for and seeked in every one of her personal relationships, even at the expense of her own happiness and friendships - and this because we are shown time and time again that Hachi would rather uproot her life than be on her own. She would rather suffer a person and learn to love them than be without. And that is the painstaking tragedy of it all - it makes sense for her character.

Blue Is the Warmest Colour (2013)

Junko is without a doubt a rather polarising figure within the Nana fandom. While some are inclined to view her as the epitome of a terrible friend, others find that there are aspects of her character that are not completely unreasonable. Some even argue that she is fully justified in her actions, interpreting them as a weary response to Nana Komatsu (Hachi’s) dependent and at times childish behaviour. 

I personally find her to be an extremely intriguing case study on female friendships - it is rare to find a depiction of female friendships that deviates from the endlessly supportive, forgiving, and nurturing portrayals of female relationships. Often times women are not as forgiving and sweet to each other as is often idealised in popular media, with dynamics often being fraught with internalised misogyny, societal perceptions, past experiences, and unhealthy attachment - so it is refreshing to see such a realistic, unorthodox, and complex portrayal of relationships dynamics between women—an topic that is often underrepresented and undervalued, yet crucial in order for people of any age to reflect on their own friendships and the factors that shape their beliefs and behaviours within them.

Firstly, I think that there is no point in disputing that Junko, in her own, often unconventional way, cares about Hachi. Throughout the early episodes and chapters of Nana, Junko frequently steps in to protect and comfort Hachi when she thinks the situation calls for it. This can be seen when she immediately leaps into action when Hachi breaks down in tears, drunk and distraught over memories of Asano in Episode 2, calming her down. This concern is seen again when Junko berates Shoji for hurting Hachi’s feelings and leaving Hachi alone in an unfamiliar place before rushing out to go find her. When Junko learns that Hachi plans to move in with Nana Osaki, who was practically a stranger at the time, she tries to convince (scare) Hachi into reconsidering the decision, concerned with how Hachi would manage and what kind of person Nana would turn out to be. Accepting defeat when Hachi stayed steadfast in her decision, she challenged (Hachi’s words) Yasu, trying to support Hachi by passive aggressively asserting Hachi’s right to the apartment when Hachi failed to do so to her standards.

Infantilisation and stifling growth

However, Junko’s protectiveness often crosses the line into infantilisation, an action which is a mixture of both care for Hachi and an unconscious subscription to societal perceptions of ‘femininity’, which ends up doing more harm than good.

Ai Yazawa makes a point of emphasising that Junko has known Hachi for a long time - she is familiar with her romantic struggles and emotionally dependent tendencies. But Yazawa also shows us from the start as well that Junko is immalleable. She is a character that does not bend to displays of emotion or whims - a foil to Hachi’s very passionate and dreamy personality. It becomes apparent from their interactions that Junko, after having been around Hachi a long time, internalised how Hachi behaves and acts to the point where she sees these traits as innate to Hachi as opposed to behaviours that have developed and formed over time. This strongly held perception of Hachi becomes a problem, as instead of encouraging growth ( which is what every healthy friendship accepts and promotes), Junko reinforces these observed traits, often treating Hachi as if she were a younger sibling or even a child. She seems “relieved” when someone else is there to “take care” of Hachi and even makes decisions on her behalf, such as revealing Hachi’s crush on Shoji despite Hachi making a conscious decision to not be romantically involved in anyone, assuming that Hachi does not have the scope to actually achieve the emotional goals she sets for herself.  

This dynamic consequently stifles and hinders Hachi’s ability to grow as an independent person throughout the anime, as Junko continues to see her through the lens of their shared past rather than as a peer. Even when Junko chastises Hachi for her lack of independence, she paradoxically expresses relief when someone else can ‘step in’ to care for her. This cycle of infantilisation keeps Hachi trapped in a dependent role within her friendships, and Junko’s inability to adjust her perception only reinforces these traits in Hachi. How people around you perceive and treat you influence how you subconsciously view yourself, and in Hachi’s case, she would see herself through Junko’s eyes as exasperating and hopelessly dependent. While Junko could very well believe her treatment stems from a deep and intimate understanding of Hachi, she in fact implies, most likely unintentionally, that Hachi is not capable of better. Junko's habit of infantilising Hachi repeatedly yet chastising her for the very thing Junko validates puts her in an endless pattern of being enabled, but not giving the genuine support when she does attempt to break the cycle. 

Internalised misogyny and and complicity to the status quo

At the root of Junko’s behaviour there is a subtle form of internalised misogyny that permeates throughout her interactions with Hachi. Hachi’s personality is characterised by dreaminess, emotionality, and dependence, and aligns with traditionally "feminine" traits that patriarchal societies often devalue. She is romantic, frivolous and dependent, and Junko, in contrast, is portrayed to be and see herself as more pragmatic and career-oriented, which she is shown to be aware of and even proud of in the anime and manga. She firmly corrects Hachi when Hachi hopes she will give up on her dreams of art school in Tokyo, and pursues her passions and career with dedication throughout the anime. Her more modern lifestyle ( living unmarried with her boyfriend and striving for her dream career) contrast heavily with her more conservative mindset with gender - through interactions between Hachi and Junko, we can see that she seems to have adopted a more ‘masculine’ role between the two of them, acting as the voice of reason and logic, traits which are stereotypically associated with masculinity ( haha). You can see that this patriarchal compartmentalisation of personality traits is something that Junko had internalised growing up through her interactions with Hachi, perceiving Hachi as hopeless and in need due to her personality, when in actuality we find out later that Hachi is perfectly capable of making decisions herself, and managing difficulty by herself (with more resilience that others can muster). While she surely does not always make the best options, she is able to adapt and persevere - not exactly the actions of a hopelessly dependent person.

This is a greatly nuanced decision on Yazawa’s front, as she perfectly depicts how growing up in a patriarchal society does not only influence male and female relations, but all - due to Junko growing up in a patriarchal society where women with ‘feminine’ traits are simultaneously taken care of and condescended, she too mimics and appropriates such beliefs and actions. The status quo in such societies ( like Japan in the time the manga is set)  are rigidly upheld yet at the same time result in the mocking and contempt of women who adhere to or fit the mould shaped and maintained by the same people who patronise them - and often times women are complicit in upholding harmful patriarchal ideals.  I think this is a refreshing (and depressingly realistic) depiction of relationships between women, as it perfectly captures the delicate and painful cognitive dissonance between caring for someone and not doing what is in their best interest due to internalised misogyny. 

A large aspect of internalised misogyny is putting male approval and attention on a pedestal, and Junko depicts such influences as well when she compares her love life to Hachi’s. She flaunts her alleged ability to form platonic male friendships without becoming romantically involved, ironically right before quickly entering into a relationship with Kyosuke. Junko then feels the need to justify her own quick decision of sleeping with and getting with Kyosuke to Hachi, showing a unconscious adherence to the notion that as a woman, getting with or attached to a relatively unknown man simply because of a desire to is a disdainful trait, and one that Junko makes a conscious effort to differentiate herself from - and not for Hachi. Hachi did not judge or even understand why Junko made such a fuss explaining; Junko’s attempts were more a form of self reassurance that she is not like the ‘others’ who are deemed undesirable and whorish ( a belief she holds due to her close interaction with patriarchy growing up). Junko is in fact not so different from Hachi, from what we can see from her actions in the anime and manga. We are told by her she does not attach herself romantically to men quickly, yet in the first instance possible we see otherwise. We see her look down on Hachi’s air-headed desire for a stereotypical, domestic relationship with a reliable man, while staying with Kyosuke throughout all the anime and manga, using him as a mode of support and guidance as well as a romantic and seemingly life partner. Her contempt of Hachi at times seems to be a reflection of her own insecurities with the aspects of her personality that do not fit the mould she wants - the aspects of her personality she was raised to see as less valuable and worthy and therefore grew up and internalised.

Junko’s internalised misogyny is also apparent in her loyalty to the men in her life, particularly in her defence of Shoji after he cheats on Hachi. Instead of holding Shoji accountable, Junko places the blame on Hachi, telling her that it was her fault for being too dependent, too self absorbed - too absent ( the very traits she was telling Hachi to adopt). This reaction reflects Junko’s struggle to justify her friendship with Shoji through her own internalised belief that women are responsible for men’s behaviour ( a common belief in patriarchal societies to take accountability away from men, instead vindicating and blaming the women involved). This scene serves to reveal Junko’s desire to preserve her own relationships and avoid conflict with male peers - by justifying Shoji’s actions, she maintains the comfort and security of her social circle, which includes her boyfriend Kyosuke, who is also Shoji’s best friend ( again rather similar to Hachi and her want of companionship) - she puts her male centred relationships on a pedestal at the expense of her female friendships and Hachi’s wellbeing.

Junko’s character serves as a window into the nuanced ways internalised misogyny, perception, and shared history can influence female friendships. Her dynamic with Hachi is shaped by her rigid perception of Hachi’s weaknesses and her own internalised biases about what traits are "acceptable" in women. While Junko is portrayed as a capable, independent woman—someone Hachi and other women can in some ways even looks up to—her patronising attitude ultimately undermines the potential of their relationship. Junko’s failure to see Hachi as an evolving, autonomous person perpetuates a cycle of dependence, preventing both women from growing as individuals and as friends, with Junko feeling equally responsible and burdened by Hachi but not allowing the relationship to develop beyond how it was in the past.