Ryuma and Brook; An Essay on Depression and What it Means to Thriller Bark
I’ve thought about this for a while but I realize when I bring it up with people, it’s not the consensus we all came to with; Ryuma is more than just a zombie in one of the best ways, and in a way that was somewhat removed from the anime. In a way that matters to Brook so greatly, I’d say he stands as one of the most important characters of the arc, right next to what Moriah and Hogback represent. The thing Ryuma has in common with them is his theme alone, that being the concept of horror, but not in the zombie sense. No, Ryuma is the personification of Brook’s own self doubt, depression and guilt in my eyes. I think it’s worth bringing up what this means in the overarching theme as well, because without it, it stands as a fine sentiment but together with what Moriah and his crew mean, it makes for one of the more compelling metaphors of the arc. This metaphor, or theme rather, is what is really scary in this world, what is horror? What frightens us at the end of the day, and what stands as actually scary? At first, you’d think zombies, vampires, for those are monsters, sure, but what is a real monster but man; what is scarier than fiction but reality.
Thriller Bark unveils this concept beautifully by following the main characters as they too unravel the mystery and the real terror of the island. Fictional tropes are introduced quite quickly, such as zombies and the talking skeleton which I’ll come back to in a second, but the causation and what they mean requires more digging into the castle and the humans themselves. As we follow them, more deeper seeded issues arise, the first one being Absolom and what he stands for.
He isn’t like the zombies which are done with enough comedy that they actually become a relief for his actions in some regard. I feel like this arc does this a lot, using comedy to balance the terror it delivers like an IV-drip; the more you think on it, the more bitter it becomes, and the more you miss Hildon and Luffy pushing zombies into the ground.
Absolom represents to me the first instance of a taste of reality. He is a realistic terror, a real life monster, something I and others born female know more than anyone. Unlike the silly distractions we are first introduced too, he stands as something real and frightening, and I will say, the anime makes almost light of this. The anime does this a lot, so much so I have over 4 pages of bullet points on changes, not slight ones either. Robin reacts differently to his assault for example, the anime not having her flinch while in the manga, she crumples while Zoro loses it. Nami’s scenes are also extended, but the discussion of the erasure of this arc and it’s insane shift in tone is for another time. In any case, he is our first example of real world monsters, and that theme does not let up.
Second is Hogback, who stands as a similar terror the more we find out about his work. He created these monsters with no care for human life, being apathetic and made ‘comedic’ to attempt to balance the implications of Cindy and everything else the man did. Defiling caskets and raising the dead is a serious thing, and you cannot tell me Cindy’s boob scars are something ignorable; Hogback is another type of the same flavor of actual horror, one that’s debatable on what it means and not one I truthfully can pin in one box such as Moriah or Absolom.
Perona is pretty straight forward, being paired with Usopp with his negativity or depression in tow. How do you defeat em? Join em, or just out do them with your sheer self deprecation and hatred… that… should be checked out.
Moriah is a strange case, being both an enabler and someone who rather ignore the bullshit his crew causes due to them doing what he wants at the end of the day. He can turn a lazy blind eye entirely, and does so frequently, unless it impacts his goal, which sadly is very similar to some people I’ve met. What he stands for more to me however, other than an ignorant, irresponsible captain, is a mirror of what depression can look like.
He’s a mirror to Brook, having the same backstory practically but unlike Brook, he isn’t trying to defend his dream. He gave up entirely, no longer caring for their wishes or what they ever stood for, instead feeling so bad for himself and his status that he simply recruited whomever best served him and cares for them as long as they do his dream for him, which is the opposite message of Luffy. Luffy in fact defeats him so fittingly with the entire effort of his crew, his way of leadership being a complete 180 in the form of everyone defending their own dreams along with their captain, who likewise, defends them too.
(I think it’s beyond fitting his final form is taking people’s literal souls in a sense, using others until they’re exhausted for his own dream which they don’t believe in.) Another theme of this arc, which AGAIN, I’d have to make an entire other post on, is the idea of ‘what does it take to defend a dream’ and how relying on others entirely isn't healthy, but you can’t do it yourself either. To make a dream requires defending it, and what that defense looks like and is is varied, and can sometimes fail, such as Brook’s. Yorki had a dream, one supported by his crew, but when the time came to actually defend it, and defend those men, Brook failed as captain, not ready for the loss of his sun. The sun is another thing entirely, which, for a third time here on this post, requires it’s own thing. Now onto the final thing I think worth noting before we explore Brook’s relationship; Ryuma.
Ryuma stands as a strange outlier at first, considering the others themes. He isn’t a sex pervert, he isn't rude or lazy, he isn’t depressed and in fact, is very active in pursuing Brook and whomever Moriah needs him to attack, doing his job well. He doesn’t seem to even have a dream or goal other than defeating Brook, being a shadow in a samurai’s body, but there is an underlying tone that really stood out to me while reading; what does he mean to Brook. What does a shadow MEAN? It’s in the manga, on surface and literal level, a part of your soul to some degree, being apart of you and able to be cut from the body, however on a more metaphoric scale, it’s still a representation of the darker issues that seed our flesh. When someone speaks on shadows, they usually mean darker things, the absence of light and hope cast behind us where we cannot see. This is what makes the following interactions so interesting.
Let’s before we go into the panels make one thing clear on the following thought process; try and think about what that afro means. Brook has lost everything else in his life, his lover, his crew, his captain, his promise, everything has been shattered yet the hope of Laboon and the final words of Yorki have stirred this zombie to rise and continue on; the Rumbar’s memento mori. That afro is everything from being the only thing that Laboon could remember to his hope incarnate, so for my sake, let’s every time we go over that word, picture it meaning hope as well.
The theme prevalent is the fact Ryuma seemingly has autonomy, and something much greater than just the other zombie’s willpower to take Brook down. That vendetta is deep enough to want to remove Brook’s afro, taking it as a trophy, sure, but why would a zombie need that? It’s so personal, such an offense and violent act at that; to want to cut someone's hope from their very head, the only thing keeping Brook going… it’s interesting to me for sure. It’s not Ryuma’s actions, it’s not how samurai act, so who’s left on the table in that body but the soul, it’s own self sabotage wishing to ruin it’s decrepit old master?
Seeing as well that Brook consistently loses to him as well. I don’t think it’s just about Ryuma as a strength class samurai either, simply overpowering Brook by muscle alone, for it’s also speed Brook excels in, which he too loses. Brook loses against his own attack, something he’s known for decades and AGAIN, we could easily brush this off but the dialog and the framing compel me to say it means more than simply losing to a strong zombie.
Brook I believe is losing to his own self split into another body, depression and self loathing incarnate.
Ryuma berates Brook, mocks him and belittles him any chance he can get. That’s not how a samurai talks, but we know Brook already has very little value in himself. (I’ve covered this in other essays and such, it’s fascinating really but very sad. He dreams of murdering his crew due to this guilt of failure.) Brook as well tries to fight back, defending himself in very interesting wording, sounding more like a Dr. Jekyll and Hyde situation than two men separate of body– WHICH they aren’t.
Brook is literally fighting his shadow, his very soul, and the fact it continues to speak so poorly of him is depressing in its own right.
Brook loses in the end, giving up in a way we’ve not seen but should be expected of him. Exhausted and loosing to his own fight, he almost allows himself to be scalped, lamenting as the image shows, in an apology letter to everyone around him, than further stapling how sad his life has become. It could be read as something else, something I myself have once written and crumpled up thankfully, but that’s just speculation.
As someone who’s battled depression, it speaks volumes how Brook isolates himself and refuses to ask for help, being another great example of his relation to Moriah and Luffy as types of captainship.
Brook never wants to be a burden or let people down, hating himself to such degrees and being so stubborn as to think he can tackle this great monster alone. It’s a monster that grows in power every time Brook faces it, getting meaner and more disattached as its own confident beast than part of his own soul. If you too have suffered from depression, you know how real this description really is, and the big thing is is learning to ask for help sometimes, which in the end, he can’t do without intervention. Franky comes in, rushing to his side to cradle him and hold him close. All the crew admit earlier that they cared for Brook and wanted to help him best they could, some crying, some smiling, but all love for the man they just met.
It’s love Brook cannot feel about himself, too busy battling this shadow that wishes to do nothing more than snuff out the little light he has left, breaking him down physically and mentally until he’s just a heap in Franky’s arms, one that whimpers finally “Please, get me my autonomy back. Get me my shadow, please.”
The message of Brook finally learning to ask for help, accepting this aid and being able to return to his, although lacking confidence, self, is one that really cemented this arc to me as one of the more important, impactful ones, one that is sadly brushed aside for more pressing or bigger issues to some people, and one the anime completely butchered. (Don’t even get me started on that.)
In the end, Brook accepts to join once his shadow has been returned and once he learns he can actually turn his life for the better, gaining a purpose alongside his already set promise.
With all of this in mind, the moment Brook looks to the sun and declares his love for life, and his excitement that he indeed did make it through the night he had suffered alone for so many years, really does mean a lot, doesn’t it? I have a lot of other thoughts about Thriller Bark but these parts mean maybe the most to me. Along with the other mentionings of thematic readings, such as the sun’s stance in this arc along with Moriah’s mirror to the crew, it makes the entire piece something so special to me.
As someone who’s suffered mental illness, learning to reach out to friends and learning I too can offer more than just old promises to myself to ‘stay alive for their sake’ is beyond important, and has really made my life better. I’m so happy to be alive, and I am glad he is too.
