Secret Santa Review: Rurouni Kenshin – Trust and Betrayal

Before I actually delve into the show, I’d like to apologize profusely to the unfortunate soul who got stuck with recommending me something that I didn’t have added to MAL in any way, shape, or form. At the same time, I’d like to thank you for recommending a short OVA which made procrastinating until the very last day a surprising non-chore. Anyway, here’s my Secret Santa post on Rurounin Kenshin: Tsuioku-Hen, or Trust and Betrayal for those not fatally weebish, a present delivered more than a full day before a certain jolly bastard even jumps in his sleigh—But enough about Shinmaru, we have anime to review.

Trust and Betrayal follows a prodigious swordsman/ex-slave dubbed Kenshin by his instructor, an idealistic youth who falls in with a bad crowd after several years of training in the mountains. His promise to only use his staggering abilities for the good of the people is quickly cast aside as he’s drawn into the depths of intrigue surrounding the outbreak of the Boshin War between the ruling Shogunate and Imperial forces. Loyalties are stretched to the breaking point, unlikely romances are forged between kindred souls, and Kenshin’s ideals are put to the test as he wades through the fathomless ocean of blood standing between him and his uncertain future—most spilt on his behalf.

In the world of Rurouni Kenshin, which I can only assume holds true for all of Japan around the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate, a majestic geyser of blood is apparently as common a sight as cherry blossoms falling in the spring. Also for some reason there aren’t any guns, even though matchlocks were still in use, and the imperial forces engaged in trade with foreign powers in order to reinstate the power of the emperor as more than a figurehead. But unless Marvin’s death in Pulp Fiction is to be taken as a 100% accurate representation of an actual gunshot, I guess gunpowder-based weapons don’t allow for the oodles of viscera that find their way onto every surface imaginable here. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be whining about historical accuracy in a series where a man can routinely eviscerate groups of armed thugs without suffering a scratch.

Seriously, the blood becomes a greater juggernaut in the story than any of the characters could dream to be, even though they have the potential in them the whole time. (Get it? Because they have blood in them.) Our angsty male lead bleeds from a cut on his cheek each time he kills, characters routinely whinge about bloody rain like it’s more than just symbolism, and every single fatality leaks several pints when given so much as a scratch, like they’re all bloated, human-shaped water balloons. To its credit though, the bleeding never feels excessive, most of it seemingly done to remind poor Kenshin that his actions symbolically, as well as physically, stain his hands with blood. It’s not the choice that I would’ve made, but I can’t argue with its implementation.

As is in keeping with a series that treats blood with the same reverence as Shakespeare treated hilarious misunderstandings, the violence borders on excessive, but never quite reaches the point of becoming overly nauseating or boring. From start to finish, it straddles the line between being uncomfortable and overindulging in swordplay, using its scenes to instill just how single-minded, yet uninvested Kenshin is when tasked to kill. Jaws are sliced off, skulls are split, and bits of torso are hewn with swift, clinical brutality, the act of a man who knows what he’s doing but doesn’t particularly enjoy his line of work—surely a metaphor for the workaday world.

If I have anything to level against what Trust and Betrayal sets out to do, it’s the way that the romance between Kenshin and Tomoe is handled. On one hand, Kenshin does gain an appreciation for life that stems from spending many hours alone with Tomoe. While we only get small vignettes of their interactions, it’s clear that he wants her to be a part of her life to replace the empty thrill of constant murder. She helps him grow from a cynical man with no lease on life to a more purposeful individual that finally sees his place in the world.

On the other, significantly less functional hand, Tomoe as a whole maintains slightly more interest than the slightly wonky fire effects; even when she’s supposed to be emotional, her role feels stiff and mechanical, something conjured up to explain a part of the backstory, but never achieving more than that. The vignettes into their life together rarely extend beyond Kenshin retaining his stoic demeanor and Tomoe apologizing for some slight or another. I wish I could think of a specific example, but it doesn’t speak well in favor of their relationship that I can’t remember anything more than Tomoe apologizing for not seasoning their dinner, which Kenshin enjoyed anyway. The whole thing just takes up time that could have been better spent on political intrigue or, with slightly better writing, more than just sitting around a table discussing their adjustments to a mundane country life.

Kenshin also suffers from a similar woe of simply being a boring character. Even though he’s fleshed out much more than Tomoe ever was, he doesn’t ever move past being a moody bastard who takes no joy in his work. He’s driven by the whims of those around him in a way portrays him as a device in a larger picture, rather than the main character. It’s sufficient in the context of how all-encompassing the events leading to the Meiji Restoration really were, but as a tale chronicling Kenshin’s rise, his personality and internal strife fall flatter than they could, not helped by occasional redundancies in his behavior. Still, it’s not like this is a huge detraction.

So yeah, it’s pretty good but hardly perfect, though nothing really is. Well, except for Girls und Panzer and ARIA.