Finally caught up to Yomi no Tsugai, and I'm really interested in the way the story is writing family dynamics so far. Because there's a fair amount of the warm, found-family trope coming through with all the different factions of characters who have found a home and sense of acceptance with one another (the Danno household of Strange Creatures, the Kagemori's and the Kuroya Siblings, Misasagi's restaurant hooligans—I see you, etc.). But the story is also extremely careful not to ignore the pull of blood-relations. And we're starting to see a lot of internal conflicts and external confrontations between these different groups based on the perceived responsibilities owed to those people who give you them that acceptance. As noted early on, no one can live on their own—so then what do you give back to the people who helped you stand on your feet.
Spoilers through chapter 42 ahead:
For example, this idea of servitude in exchange for safety is seen clearly with the Kagemori iron-fast code. One slip up or betrayal and that's it. Execution.
Like Hagure says, it seems extreme. Except...not enforcing that rule in the line of work the Kagemori's are involved with ends up compromising the safety of everyone else entrenched with the family. As Gabby notes immediately after, to keep the people she loves safe—to let Hikaru himself keep drawing the manga he loves in peace—she will gladly accept this ruthlessness. We see this mindset reflected all throughout the family: the way Natsuki continues working in a gritty role she hates for the sake of the place that gave her a home and the adopted brothers she has come to love dearly; Asuma advocating for the twins to claim their powers knowing full well the risk it poses, not out of malice or even a desire for power but because he simply thinks it's what's needed; Jin resolving himself to "cleaning up" the grotesque situations his family finds themselves in so the others don’t have to.
And to be fair, it is true that the Kagemori family is a place that's deliberately accepting of all people who may not have a place otherwise in society. For all the arguments that might have broken out, they never forced Asa to make a decision about Break and let her live in the manor before and after the incident. No one knows what wreckage they dug Gabby out of, and we see from Gonzou's talks with Iori that he (probably) does value those society has otherwise outcasted. And yet—we see so many instances of doubt creep into these characters despite their defense of the rule. Jin asks Hana to bury the gardener's body behind his dad's back (and treats her much nicer than Dera, rip), Asuma risks his dad's ire by going to retrieve the fallen bodies of their men from Tadera Sr.'s pad, and guilt-ridden Asa is told to stop apologizing for things. Jin takes her hand and tells her he doesn’t mind cleaning up after her, Gabby tells her it's not her fault people died because others covet her power, and when she switches from apologizing to thanking Natsuki for protecting her through the night, it's because she's starting to realize that she doesn't owe the Kagemori's for loving her, but is so incredibly grateful anyway.
And when it comes to the blood relationships in this story, that same undercurrent of choice and duty applies. Akio seemingly betrays the love the Kuroya's have shown him for the acceptance his mother offers, that sense of belonging he gets from meeting someone who's afflicted with the same condition he is. He doesn’t devalue the love he’s received from the Kagemori’s or his siblings, and yet, he still leaves. As Misasagi says, in that ominous way of his:
(Watch me be wrong and this is all a fake out—if Haruo gets a hug though, I’ll accept it)
Even with Asa and Yuru, we're immediately presented with two people struggling both against and with their intrinsic connection as siblings.
Yuru has to deal with the agonizing truth that not only was he left behind while his parents escaped with his real sister (out of necessity, yes, but it's still got to be incredibly difficult to process), but his parents are still missing, the family he thought he had left and devoted himself to for the last decade was a phony deception conjured by all the other people he loved, and his real twin is a girl who is so different than what he's used to. This Asa is kind but doesn't have the luxury of naivete. She's seen more of the world outside the village than he has but is still trapped in a cage all the same. She's bubbly instead of subdued, but also lonely and guilty. She's killed and been killed. Being a brother to the fake!Asa meant being a protective and constant force for her to rely on from behind. But this isn’t a role he can slip into with the current Asa when she’s already wounded and hurt in places he might never find out about. What does it mean to be a brother then, and how can you be that person for someone you don't even know? Should he even want to?
And for Asa, the guilt at having left Yuru behind—not even knowing if he was still alive—has been eating away at her for the last decade. She clings to this notion of family, this naive but desperate hope that things will work out and that they'll all be together once more. It's this faith that gives her the strength to live and pick herself up again and again. But once she finally does find Yuru and breaks him out of the mirage Higashi Village has chained him with, she's confronted with the truth that things won't be that easy. She loves Yuru because he's her brother, but at this point, they're as good as strangers. And she's terrified that he doesn't see her as his sister anymore, as someone worth loving. That she's changed too much and that they're not a family worth resurrecting, blood be damned.
But she doesn't lie. She shows him who she is upfront, and lets him reveal himself. She tugs (to the point where it's a gag) but she doesn't push, letting him come to terms with where things stand and how to proceed. She lets him choose.
And it’s all complicated, but Yuru lets himself see a girl who's a little lost, and a lot hurt. A girl who wants her family back and to live an ordinary life. A girl who might be different from Kiri but is instead, in more ways than one, like him. She's also undeniably his sister.
So he works with it.
But how far will it go? How far can it go? Will they ever get that chance to be a normal family given all that's happened?
How much do they owe each other, and, perhaps more importantly, to what extent do they owe the other people who have helped them and housed them along the way?
That is the question I am most interested in answering throughout this journey.
