Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m eager to return to the melancholy journey of Touko and her charge Kanata, as the pair navigate the hostile, decaying world of The Fire Hunter. Having been assigned the treacherous task of returning a dead fire hunter’s dog to the capital, Touko hitched a ride aboard one of the mighty forest-traversing trains that connect humanity’s remote villages. Unfortunately, her selfless spirit again compelled her to leave the train in pursuit of the runaway bride Kaho, and her failure to heed the train’s rules has meant she will soon be dropped off, forced to brave the forest and its demons all on her own.
That’s perfectly fine by me; every moment spent exploring this world offers tiny treasures, from the ambiguous, evocative details of humanity’s downfall, to the humble human stories Rieko Hinata so skillfully weaves into its margins. Hinata writes with the confidence and precision of a master, and the show’s character designs and background art are doing a marvelous job of bringing her melancholy world to life. It’s already apparent that this production is having to stretch to make animated ends meet, but I’ll always prefer an ambitious failure over a mundane success, and The Fire Hunter is nothing if not ambitious. Let’s return to the journey!
Episode 3
Our episode recap affirms the connection between our two leads – the fire hunter that died protecting Touko was Haijuu, the father of our city dweller Koushi. Always an effective binding agent for two otherwise unrelated leads; having a loved one die for a stranger prompts a fertile mixture of feelings, from resentment for “taking away” their connection to curiosity regarding whatever made this person worth dying for. Both an unbreakable personal bond and easy source of antagonism in one
It also feels like a microcosm of this world’s overall conflict. In truth, it was really the desperate scarcity of this world’s resources that led to Haijuu’s death, just as it is the increasing hostility of the wilderness that is leading to death and isolation among the villages. But it is hopeless and self-defeating to blame the world itself, and thus we redirect and localize our frustration, blaming those who fail to heed this world’s warnings, for that at least gives us a target to hate
We return to the Okibi estate, as Koushi’s new caretaker introduces him to his room
Once again, their patron seems almost suspiciously accommodating, going so far as to apologize that their spacious new rooms won’t get much sunlight
Koushi is then greeted by his patron’s daughter, who seems about his own age. As with the others, delicate linework combined with a lack of shading give her a distinctive look, a sort of lightness of form facilitated by how easily she seems to move within the loose block color of her dress. Her hair just barely frames her eyes, adding a somewhat bashful effect, like she’s always peering out from behind curtains
Her name is Kira, a revelation that prompts its own title card, emphasizing her significance as a major player in this narrative. Ostentatious typography has all sorts of narrative uses!
We get one of those flourishes of fluid character acting as he follows her out of the room, demonstrating a nervous infatuation that she politely ignores
They meet with Takimi, the family physician, who’s assessing Koushi’s sister
Huh, Takimi also gets a title card. Interesting, considering no one on the train did – perhaps the show is specifically differentiating the world as our two protagonists see it, with Koushi the scholar seeing things more in the format of a book
Takimi says his sister Hinako suffers from fetal contamination, and that it can’t be cured, but the symptoms can be ameliorated with food and a healthier environment. Thus Koushi is bound to this place, his sister’s survival contingent on his continued alliance with the Okibis
Kira maintains a whimsical, curious expression, like she’s daydreaming about whatever disruptions these new arrivals might bring to the house
I like how the characters’ conversations aren’t necessarily tethered to the actions we’re seeing – they’re conveyed more like dialogue over a montage, capturing key moments of physical interaction regardless of whether those actions correlate to the ongoing conversation. It lends a certain unreality to the scene that echoes Koushi’s presumed feeling of disorientation, while also simply letting both the sound and visuals present the most important information from any given interaction. In this instance, the dialogue they share echoes the visuals without directly syncing to them, as their talk of how to address one another matches their awkward process of physical greetings
Kira states it was a lonely life growing up in this estate, and is eager to make friends with her new “siblings.” Her body language emphasizes her constrained energy, as she seems to crouch and bounce off her heels
The characters of Koushi’s name mean “a great fire” and then “safety or protection”
We are once again aligned with Koushi’s perspective as he is dazzled by Kira. First a remarkably fluid cut of her hair flowing out behind her, and then a beautiful postcard memory, aligning the sunlight with her bright yellow dress to make her appear like the sun itself
This brightness is then contrasted against her mother’s introduction, who appears all in deep purples, speaks in a low tone, and immediately challenges Kira’s assumption that she’ll inherit the factory. An aligned collection of signifiers, all pouring a bucket of cold water on Kira’s bright energy
She leaves after admonishing her daughter, without even introducing herself. It falls to Kira to introduce her as Hibana
“What am I thinking, celebrating when you’ve just lost your mother?” Getting an immediately vivid sketch of Kira’s character here – she’s empathetic but flighty, full of energy and desperate for a confidant
We rejoin them at dinner, which offers more subtle flourishes of character acting. Hinako has trouble simply eating their refined food, to which a maid reacts with annoyance before Kira cautions her with a look. It seems the staff are aligned with Hibana, and resent having these outsiders in their home
Then we return to Touko, where we learn Kaho will fortunately survive
“We all look out for each other’s survival here. Anyone who can’t do that has to go, even if it’s a kid.” The doctor’s explanation for why Touko must be abandoned resonates with Koushi’s situation; if not for the generosity of the Okibis, Koushi’s sister would have been abandoned long ago. This world is not so generous as to allow those who do not contribute to survive
Benio heads off to fight for Touko’s sake
They arrive at Weaver Village, and the first bride is sent off with a secret gift, a beautiful hairpin from their personal wares. Even with their lives this tenuous, even under the order that the survival of all must be paramount, humans still manage to show their individual concern for each other, to offer flourishes of favoritism that demonstrate how we’ve touched one another’s lives
That thread of what we owe each other is celebrated again, as we learn Touko has been permitted to stay on the train
Touko seems almost overwhelmed by this kindness. Even out on this dangerous journey, she’s finding shades of her mother’s love
Our first bride Hotaru leaves with a smile, saying it was a blessing to meet Touko and Benio. There is no stability we can cling to in this world, but if we struggle on, we might find unexpected blessings
“Was the bride even welcome in her new home? They had no way of knowing.” Interesting to have the narrator herself act like Kira’s mother here, reasserting the fundamental hostility of this world. And just like that, we jump over to Koushi
Okibi leads Koushi into his secret laboratory, while Koushi questions Okibi’s certainty that the country will fall
Okibi mentions the “Spiders,” an apparent political separatist group who also get their own title card
Apparently the divine clans can actually harness the elements in some way, which ensures their continuous rule
“I assume you heard about the great fire?” “I know what I was taught in schools.” Koushi’s reply emphasizes his understanding of Okibi’s intent, implying an inherent distrust of the officially sanctioned historical record
Okibi suspects a conspiracy, that the divine clans chose to let a great fire destroy the city in order to cull the human population
He then offers another less theoretical objection to the divine clans – if they control the elements, why do they continue to let humans suffer and die in these factories?
“We would be fools to rely on gods that once culled us like weeds.” Hell yeah, time to attack and dethrone god. Also now perfectly understandable why Okibi is going to such lengths to please Koushi – this isn’t just scientific curiosity, he needs Koushi to develop weapons strong enough to overthrow the elements-wielding divine clans
Over on Touko’s side, the trains are stopping to refuel
Just then a massive fiend attacks, like a glowing white Chinese dragon. Once again, the frames become erratic and discordant while attempting to grasp this creature’s form, and it’s initially introduced in silhouette, through the strange shadows it casts across Touko’s face. I know the lack of fluidity in these sequences is in large part a result of production strain, but I genuinely like the effect – it feels like the whole world starts to collapse when fiends appear, like we can’t fully picture them in mundane reality. Basically an opposite but similar effect to Mushishi’s creatures being animated on 1s
And Done
Well it seems like we’re just exchanging one catastrophe for another here, as the lurking threat of Touko being ousted from the train has been replaced with the far more immediate threat of everyone dying to this terrible, beautiful fiend. That evocatively distorted attack served as the highlight of an episode that was otherwise mostly occupied with affirming things we already suspected, and clarifying the general political situation informing Koushi’s alliance with Okibi. We thus had more exposition than anything to dig into thematically, but the political arrangement being sculpted is an intriguing one, and I felt the episode did a fine job of balancing Koushi’s introductions with the more immediately thrilling fragments of Touko’s journey. Between the two of them, we’re coming to know this world both as a ground-floor everyday struggle and a tenuous balance of powers; this place is a powder keg, and our two leads are clearly the spark.
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