Re:Zero, the art of the main character

Harvey Elson

6/3/24

Author’s Note: mild/major spoilers for Re:Zero season 1, no mentions of season 2. I aim to critically analyse the story whilst spoiling minimal plot for those interested in watching the show. I urge that you go ahead and watch the show to experience what interpretation you find for yourself.

Trigger warnings: brief allusions to graphic violence.

To explain what separates Re:Zero from its peers, one must familiarize themselves with the isekai genre. The word isekai simply means another world, by which standard western fantasy stories like Lord of the Rings, set in Middle-Earth, also occupy. However, this term is colloquially used to abbreviate isekai tenshin: stories that follow characters reincarnated into another world. In recent years, the anime industry has become over-saturated with such series: each one more ridiculous than the last.

Isekai anime can largely be categorised into two groups: gimmicks, and power fantasy. The former contains titles such as In Another World with My Smartphone (2013—present) or Reborn as a Vending Machine, I Now Wander the Dungeon (2016), which are themselves self-explanatory. The latter, with series such as Seirei Gensouki (2014-2020), Kenja no Mago (2015—2022), Tsukimichi: moonlit fantasy (2012—present), How Not to Summon a Demon Lord (2014—present), and many others. These largely follow a standard formula. A plain-looking Japanese shut-in, whom the target audience may project themselves onto in the name of escapism, is reincarnated to a fantasy world where they gain immense power and are surrounded by beautiful women. This often leads to two-dimensional characters and poorly written stories, which misrepresent the true potential that this genre holds.

Re:Zero, a light novel series written by Tappei Nagatsuki, began in January 2014. It exploded into mainstream popularity with its anime adaptation in April 2016. The story follows Natsuki Subaru, a shut-in who finds himself in another world after a late-night trip to the convenience store. At the surface, you may see just another carbon copy of the overused ‘isekai’ formula but, the true beauty of this story lies in the complexity of its characters, and the nuanced ways in which the author instigates growth through their struggles and relationships.

I will focus on the anime adaptation, which despite missing some content from the light novels, has the merit of incredible voice acting, sound effects, and animation—courtesy of White Fox Studio—which brings the story to life.

For basic context, Japanese teenager Subaru finds himself in the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica—which is undergoing ‘Royal Selection’ to replace their monarch facing a succession crisis; there he ends up living alongside Emilia, one of the royal candidates, aiming to support her campaign upon falling in love with her. In this world he finds himself cursed with ‘return by death’: the power to reset at checkpoints (similar to RPG video games) when he dies. This unique ability instantly piqued my interest, and I will delve into its intricately woven use as a tool to inspire Subaru’s growth.

The opening scene of the show is beautifully cinematic, with terrifying, cryptic jumps from a mundane convenience store to a warped, shadowed room with bodies falling to the ground, accompanied by Subaru’s anguished screams. This stark contrast set the tone of the series effortlessly. Within a minute, I fell in love with the work of Yusuke Kobayashi’s voice-acting performance. (His other work includes playing Ishigami Senku in Dr. Stone and Arthur Boyle in Fire Force).

‘Merely say the word. You may have anything your heart desires!’ the mind reels at the infinite possibilities this statement holds. A lavish life full of luxury, or riches beyond your wildest dreams are obvious ports of call… but not for Subaru. When offered just this by Roswaal, the lord of Emilia’s manor, Subaru decides: ‘Let me work at the manor!’ This simple response contradicted all my anticipations, something very novel was unfurling here.

Unbeknownst to Roswaal, Subaru had been pampered by the development of modern Japan, his simple life sustained by ready meals in his shut-in isolation. To reject the fantastic offers of Roswaal, and instead work under him as a manservant, spoke volumes of Subaru’s character. Taking advantage of potential riches, would’ve been no different from his past, evidently he aims to add skills to his arsenal through honest work instead. Later plasters are seen adorning his hands, a subtle nod to his diligent work, passionate to learn the arts of cooking, cleaning, and gardening he deprived himself of before. Unlike his two-dimensional counterparts, Subaru is realistic in his desire for growth and to escape the toxic cycle that entrapped him in his old behaviours.

Regardless of any efforts to escape his flawed ways, Subaru is still imperfect—as any person would be. When summoned to the capital for the royal selection, he insists on coming with Emilia; her best efforts to make him stay and recover from his exhaustion are made in vain. Brushing off her promise, he simply resolves: ‘I have to stay by her side.’

Love has intrinsic duality; respecting and caring for oneself is paramount for giving affection to another. For Emilia—a spirit arts user—promises have integral value, as they mirror the contracts she makes with her spirits. For Subaru to break this—at the detriment to his own wellbeing—is not an act of love but a betrayal of the highest order. Subaru’s self-sacrificing efforts demonstrates a lack of empathy as well as disregard for his self-worth. This flaw grounds him as a realistic protagonist; it demonstrates the limits that emerge from his isolated life on Earth, and gives him room to develop in his maturity.

In his ‘love’ fuelled immaturity, Subaru secretly breaks into the throne room; there overhearing the nobles’ mockery of Emilia comparing her to the Evil Witch, Satella, who is feared across Lugunica. Enraged he shouts: ‘Enough of your crap!’ Emilia, in beautiful juxtaposition of his childish outburst, addresses the room composed and eloquent; silencing Subaru through her visible distress at his betrayal, and unequivocally presenting her power, qualifications, and right to the throne dismissing the baseless mockery completely.

Despite Emilia’s best efforts to diffuse this unrest, Subaru spontaneously proclaims to be her knight, a blatant lie as a mere manservant. This bold act to take on the pain she faces earns him the scorn of the royal knights, his ignorant actions recoiling and tarnishing Emilia’s reputation. He must come to learn the nuances of the world, where understanding your limitations and placing trust in the people you care for is a far more valuable asset than careless effort. Emilia is the image of independence, strength, and accomplishment, an ideal for Subaru to aspire to walk alongside once he learns to understand his own value that others see in him.

Julius, one of the imperial knights, stands as the antithesis of Subaru. Criticising his audacity of claiming to be a ‘knight’ he asks whether Subaru could summon the same resolve and dedication needed to earn their title. Yet with an air of arrogance, Subaru claims to match neither their strength nor resolve, still believing he can bring Emilia’s wish to fruition.

‘Weakness is something to feel shame in, not pride.’

Julius’ dismissal is harsh but well founded. I believe a more appropriate sentiment is: we owe one another humility in strength and weakness, yet pride should only be found when making an earnest effort to improve. Initially, his derision of Subaru earned my contempt but upon closer inspection, Julius is the perfect tool to forge Subaru’s improvement, leading me on a journey to respect him greatly.

Inevitably, having insulted the chivalry of the esteemed knights, Julius is forced to administer punishment. Threatening Subaru with the death penalty, he challenges him to a duel in a colosseum for his insolence. Despite this portrayal of Julius as a villain, I believe his true intention is to educate Subaru and allow him to redeem himself by starting anew.

He overpowers Subaru, mocking him for his attempt to use cheap tricks, making a spectacle of the sheer disparity in their power. Discomfort sweeps over the knights in the audience, seeing only a predator preying on a helpless idiot. Julius swiftly overwrote their disgust for Subaru’s actions, redirecting it to himself, meanwhile teaching Subaru the strength he needs to achieve to stand proud and confidently protect Emilia. Pain can be a good catalyst for growth. Seeking improvement in adversity is vital to success, and in giving Subaru this opportunity we see how selfless Julius is. The evolution of their relationship is one of my favourite in the series, truly encapsulating what we can learn from adversity.

Subaru’s power, ‘return by death’, seems at first glance like a blessing. Despite the magic and monsters of this world, he is invincible in that he can relive any situation to achieve a better outcome. But unlike a video game, where the player is detached from the consequences of death, Subaru recalls the pain and fear that he feels in those final moments. The twisted evil of this curse lies not only in this pain, but in the solitude. The curse prevents him from revealing his affliction to others, crushing his heart in retaliation. This compounds with the fact he can’t choose his checkpoints. After many days or weeks of building relationships, making promises, creating fond memories with people he learns to love, Subaru’s life can be cruelly reset, and familiar faces will look upon him as though he were a stranger. Knowing that those memories cannot be remade, and that he alone must work to reforge these now-false bonds, is a true bleak isolation. His every attempt to break free from his shut-in life is rebuked by this evil curse.

This struggle culminates as Subaru, broken down by his failures, dying repeatedly in attempts to protect everyone, asks Rem, one of the maids of the manor, to run away with him and live a peaceful life together. The ensuing dialogue is beautifully written—the details of which I will now examine.

Whilst Subaru didn’t reciprocate Rem’s love for him, in his desperation he sincerely wishes for love with her; for the life they may live together by escaping from the dangers that kept causing his suffering.

‘I cannot (run away with you)... because I know I would be leaving behind the Subaru that I love most.’

The man she fell for at the manor was the one who worked hard to protect his loved ones, who refused to yield in the face of adversity. To Rem, Subaru’s suffering, his supposed failure to protect them, had never happened; all previous trauma has been cruelly wiped from reality by the ability ‘return by death’. Rem cannot understand his pain, but she does not carelessly claim to do so. Rather, she expresses true love towards him by rejecting his offer to run away together, despite it fulfilling all her desires, she chose to motivate him to fight on. Striving to give him confidence worthy of the man she knows him to be. Rem’s support demonstrates the selflessness of love and friendship that guides us to see our true worth.

‘It was so much easier for me to think there was something I could do.’

This is a sentiment I carry close to me, the crushing weight of inevitability, that no matter your struggle the outcome will never alter, is not worth bearing. Rather knowing that you fought within your best efforts regardless of failure is a far more fulfilling mentality.

‘Subaru, it is easy to give up. But it doesn’t suit you.’

With unclouded judgement, his capable nature shines through to her. When most others may have fled, Subaru faced death head on wielding only his determination. It is not easy for Subaru to give up, and that is what allows him to stand. That is the true strength of humanity which he represents.

Throughout the scenes, Yusuke Kobayashi’s voice acting perfectly conveys the anguish of a man faced with internal conflict, receiving compliments about a person he knows nothing of, deluded by his perception of hatred for himself. His performance is so chilling— I cannot stress enough how impactful this series is to watch.

‘I have no strength, but I want it all. I have no knowledge, but all I do is dream. There’s nothing I can do, but I struggle in vain. I hate myself!’

What Subaru has defined is simply what it means to be human. To know that you are outclassed in strength or intellect and yet to continue to push forward: this is what we excel at. It is wrong to hate yourself for this limitation, but this simple truth is obscured by the pollution we call life.

Yet Rem’s response breaks our hearts: ‘How much do you know about the Subaru that I see?’

Sometimes, when you are blind to your own merits, you must accept the embraces of those around you to acknowledge your true worth. Letting the supportive voices be heard is half of the path to improvement.

Humans are weak. Constantly fighting for survival in a world aiming to knock us down, depression, cynicism, and despair consume us yet rarely do we resign ourselves to this fate. Our unsightly battle for strength is unending, feeding off the support of others to bolster our indomitable human spirit.

Subaru is the epitome of what it means to be human.

He breaks down and cries when he is overwhelmed. He shouts and complains that he wants to give up. When accepting the love and support from his friends, his real strength resurfaces. This is the journey of a naïve man buffeted by suffering and finding solace in the friendships he builds. Tappei Nagatsuki’s Re:Zero uses ‘return by death’ as the perfect device to administer Subaru’s adversity, a harrowing cycle of suffering that mirrors our more mundane daily struggles, which he must confront.

What hooked me on this series, was the journey and growth of Natsuki Subaru, and the relationships driving him forth. The realism of both his flaws, and his strengths made for such a tantalising watch. Seeing him grow not from simply suffering, but from the lessons to be learnt from it, guided by the people around him.

Rem is the symbol of friendship, a comforting presence to reassure you of your strength.

Emilia is the symbol of maturity, a goal of self-respect and empathy needed to build relationships.

Julius is the symbol of belief, offering guidance to those who do wrong, hoping to nurture them to betterment.

Thank you, Tappei Nagatsuki. For me, there is no other main character who defines the role so perfectly, no supporting cast who can inspire such realistic growth in a person. Natsuki Subaru’s journey from Japanese shut-in to an accomplished knight has parallels closely woven with our human life, capturing both its joys and sorrows—and that is something I think we can all appreciate.