Lucy In Chapter 118: An Analysis 🫧

Lucy in Chapter 118: an Analysis 🫧

Hooo boy

Chapter one-eighteen. Where do I even 𝓫𝓮𝓰𝓲𝓷?

Unlike a lot of folks in this fandom (all more imaginative than I could ever hope to be), I had basically no solid predictions for this chapter (or… any chapter thus far, really, and I've been following the manga religiously since 103, so… yeah, there's a reason I'm a BSD analyst, not theorist, lmao). Needless to say, 118 is heartbreak and bombshells galore: Tanizaki and Kenji’s Ame-no-Gozen-ing, the possibility that all of those “Jun'ichirō and Naomi aren't really siblings” theories were just proven dead right, the protagonist and main villain finally meeting because it's about damn time – so on and so forth.

But because a) the fanbase is already abuzz with talk about those things + no doubt in the process of doing them analytical justice, and b) I'm annoying, I’ve decided to dissect the ever-loving hell out of the chapter’s three most innocuous pages: this interaction between Kyōka Izumi and Lucy Maud Montgomery.

Inhales

MY GIRLS ARE BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) 

Does a little jig 🎶

Sorry, had to get that out of my system

No, but seriously. Kyōka has been absent since chapter 91. Three whole years; definitely too long for a character of her importance. Lucy, meanwhile, has been out of the picture since chapter 81. That’s four whole years. So in other words, two significant female characters, sidelined for ages, are back. That’s kind of huge, IMO.

Of course, we have a vague idea of what they’ve been up to. Anne's Room has been shown more than once serving as the ADA’s safe haven and base of operations, and so per the rules of AOAR, Lucy must be nearby if not inside herself. Kyōka we see in silhouette form in Anne's Room in chapter 92. But this is the first time in a hot minute we've seen either of them in the flesh, let alone gotten dialogue out of them. I nearly choked on my cereal when I turned the page and saw their faces, lol.

So then, pray tell, what does this long-awaited appearance in the flesh entail? Well…

Lucy and Kyōka:

Right off the bat, Lucy and Kyōka are seen in Anne’s Room (where they’ve ostensibly been this entire time), standing in front of the Exit Door (i.e., the door opposite the prison, which – unless linked to a surface in the real world – will cause those who leave through it to experience amnesia. Not relevant to the scene, just thought I’d give a quick refresher.) The exit is blocked by rubble; the airport, as well as the surrounding buildings, have all been devastated. How to leave Anne's Room at this point is anyone’s guess.

Kyōka suggests Lucy deactivate her ability, but Lucy shuts her down, pointing out that they'll be flattened by rubble if she does. In response, Kyōka does her signature knife-unsheathing and insists, rather ominously, that they'll just have to take a gamble then. Lucy grabs her wrist and tells her to stop, and when Kyōka asks her why, she replies solemnly: “Because… if you died… it would crush him,” this followed by a picture of Atsushi’s smiling face.

YES. YES. YES.

Now THIS is what I love about Lucy and Kyōka’s dynamic. 

In essence, they're rivals. Thing is, they're not your generic “two girls fighting over the same guy” rivals. Kyōka’s feelings toward Atsushi aren’t even romantically-coded. Their shared love for Atsushi doesn’t divide them; it unites them. After all, following the Guild Aftermath arc, the “rivalry” aspect of their relationship has had almost nothing to do with him, instead revolving around their clashing personalities.

There, they were only at each other’s throats because Kyōka didn’t like how Lucy, still angry about the Moby Dick, was treating Atsushi, and Lucy didn’t like how Kyōka was standing in the way of her talking things through with him. But once a much-needed heart-to-heart was had between Atsushi and Lucy and the latter turned over a new leaf, there was no longer any reason for her and Kyōka to bicker. Kyōka didn’t have the full context of Lucy’s actions, and was thus within her rights to assume she couldn’t be trusted, but Lucy proved that she could be when she led them to the right boat.

Later on, Lucy showcased that she didn't resent Kyōka when she advocated for her, forcing Atsushi to leave her to her thoughts upon learning the truth of her parents' deaths.

The next chapter, Kyōka calls Lucy’s coffee mediocre, but Lucy herself admits that she isn’t much of a barista, and so the comment is more Kyōka not mincing words than actively trying to be rude. Moreover, Lucy is offended at first, but then concedes without any real hostility.

In the Cannibalism arc, Kyōka is shown bowing politely to Lucy while enlisting her help, even if she is just following Atsushi's lead (and later does the same for Mushitarō).

Fast forward to the Sky Casino arc, Kyōka is miffed by Lucy’s hot-and-cold behavior around Atsushi, but that’s not exactly unique to her...

... and besides, they agree without resistance to work together. In chapter 81 (i.e., the last we saw of Lucy until now), the Agency reunites and Lucy encourages Kyōka to join in on the celebration. Perhaps most notable is chapter 78, wherein the two are lumped into the same category by Ango. He recognizes them both as people who would choose Atsushi over the good of the world, and this nearly drives him to kill them on the spot for fear of what their loyalty could turn into.

In this latest chapter, however, it’s underscored that, while Lucy and Kyōka may be the same in their care for Atsushi on the surface, they’re still – at the end of the day – foil characters. 

Both are orphans. Both were taken in – and subsequently exploited – by criminal organizations for their abilities. Both found their place in the story by virtue of meeting Atsushi. Both are undyingly loyal to Atsushi because of what he’s done for them. That’s about where their similarities end.

Kyōka was introduced as a remorseful killer seeking atonement by death. Atsushi managed to save her (twice, for that matter) in the conventional hero way, cementing himself as her savior and playing into the reckless heroism by which he determines his worth.

Lucy, on the other hand, was introduced as a bitter villain who believed she was justified in lashing out. Atsushi tried, but he couldn’t save her in the conventional hero way. Only his vulnerability managed to get through to her, and if anything, Lucy saved him. This utterly subverted the unhealthy philosophy by which Atsushi had begun to define both himself and his relationships.

Since then, Lucy has been trying at every turn to get Atsushi to see himself as more than just a hero. She reprimands him for his reckless heroism when she sees it. She stops him from inserting himself into other people’s plights uninvited. She confronts him when he fails to understand his relationships beyond the framework of hero and savior. Kyōka, meanwhile, has been doing more or less the opposite: she’s passively allowed Atsushi to keep playing the perpetual hero, and this wouldn’t be the first time she’s taken on his credo of self-sacrifice herself.

All of this in mind, the girls’ thought processes in this chapter are perfectly in line for them: Kyōka tries to push forward without care for what could happen to her, whereas Lucy emphasizes self-preservation.

One might perceive Lucy replying the way she does to Kyōka’s question as callous, but I don’t really think so. She isn’t saying “the only reason you shouldn’t risk your life is because it would make Atsushi sad." She’s applying her philosophy of person > hero to Atsushi and Kyōka both at the same time. She's encouraging Kyōka to be more than just a hero by telling her to think of how it would affect Atsushi as a person if she died.

If Lucy is good at anything, it’s communicating what she wants from people in a way that she knows will get through to them. She did this with Atsushi on the Moby Dick when she bluffed about waiting on his salvation, knowing he would be more motivated to stay alive himself if he thought there was someone counting on him to save them. The same applies in this scenario. She communicates with Kyōka in a way that highlights the reason they get along; the reason they’re both here in the first place. And if the way Kyōka re-sheathes her knife without a word is any indication, it works.

Lucy knows that she and Atsushi are close, but she knows that Kyōka and Atsushi are closer. Losing her would be the last straw for him. She recognizes their relationship as something beyond hero and savior – something precious. This is nothing out-of-character for her; on the contrary, it’s in keeping with who she’s been all along. All that’s different now is she’s acknowledging it out loud.

Lucy and Atsushi:

When Lucy pictures Atsushi in her mind’s eye, she sees the spirit that would undoubtedly be broken if he were to lose Kyōka. This in and of itself is heartbreaking, but when you consider the greater implications, well…

In the Sky Casino arc, a huge breakthrough was made in Atsushi and Lucy’s relationship. Her elusive “impossible” debt to him was finally repaid, though not in the way you'd expect.

At the time, all Lucy felt she could give in return for Atsushi’s turning her life around was conventional heroism – or in other words, many a close call and many a trip to Anne’s Room. This conventional heroism was a worthless currency in her mind; it wasn’t the kind that saved her, after all. But on the other hand, the vulnerability she so valued in its stead she wasn’t capable of giving; where she came from, being vulnerable was a death sentence, after all.

Because of this, how she could ever come close to repaying Atsushi’s ultimate favor was a mystery unto itself. All she knew was that she had to do it one way or another, and that’s where her most glaring flaw – her quid-pro-quo mindset – came into play, eventually driving her so far as to override her own philosophy and embody the reckless hero she so discouraged Atsushi from being.

But when Atsushi saved her from Nathaniel – thereby repaying her for her acts of service as he’d promised so many times he would – she realized that, just as her care for Atsushi doesn’t depend on his being a hero, Atsushi's care for her doesn’t depend on her being vulnerable. The illusion was shattered.

From this point forward, Lucy is no longer helping Atsushi out of a sense of indebtedness. She's doing it because she wants to – because she genuinely cares. Not the artificial care that comes with repaying a debt, but the kind she showcases when she stays by Atsushi’s side after he faints, pressing a cold towel to his face. The kind that involves refusing to hurt Atsushi in any way, even to jog potentially vital memories.

Lucy considering what Kyōka’s death would do to Atsushi’s psyche is a perfect continuation of this new leaf she’s turned over, but it also goes to show that her shared arc with Atsushi is far from finished.

Lucy’s development has always been structured rather uniquely. Each arc she’s appeared in has worked either to establish or address her current most glaring flaw, more often than not in unexpected ways. Her appearance in the first half of the Guild arc established her villainous façade as just that – a façade – by having it crumble as she realized the kind of person she was up against in Atsushi. The second half addressed her unhealthy attachment to the Guild by having Atsushi dissuade her from villainy via empathy. The Guild Aftermath arc added the finishing touch to all of this – the last little push needed to propel Lucy into her new role – by addressing her and Atsushi’s “promise” on the Moby Dick. The Cannibalism arc subtly established her quid-pro-quo mindset, which the Sky Casino arc would then go on to address.

Another great subversion of the tropes usually involved in these dynamics is that, despite Lucy being the closest thing to Atsushi’s “love interest,” only he’s managed to bolster her development – not the other way around. This isn’t for lack of trying, of course; Lucy tries. But Atsushi is a tough nut to crack. The fact that she’s still, nearly 15 chapters later, trying to steer Atsushi away from heroism and toward personhood – albeit indirectly – is testament to this.

If she could reach him now, she’d no doubt be trying even still. She’d be conveying to him that none of his friends’ deaths so far has been his fault – that he can’t be expected to carry the burden of hero to all when the world is going to hell in a handbasket. But she can’t reach him. She’s trapped, and so is Kyōka. Thus is the cruel irony.

Anne's Room:

Anne of Abyssal Red has played a key role in pretty much everything plot-related up to this point. To that end, it’s only appropriate that its owner finally appearing alongside it would grant it extra significance.

Lucy’s last line in this chapter is as follows: “So the enemy… even took this into account.” She’s right: Fyodor had countermeasures against her ability. That said, I don’t think this is attributable solely to Fyodor being, well… Fyodor.

AOAR is in the same ballpark narrative-wise as, say, For The Tainted Sorrow in that it’s overpowered to the point of detriment. It’s Lucy’s playground; the product of an imagination run wild due to crippling loneliness. This in and of itself is scary. An ability having rules that malleable is automatically dangerous, as it means that, while its wielder can bend and exploit said rules, so can an enemy. In both major fights Lucy has been a part of, the rules of Anne’s Room being molded to favor her opponent has spelled either victory or loss on her end: Atsushi used the prison room loophole against her, and she indirectly used the transportation loophole against Nathaniel. Hell, her capture by the Guild following her betrayal was thanks to the loophole that, while Anne couldn’t be defeated, she could be restrained.

So basically, for as powerful as AOAR is, underneath that power lies a shaky foundation. Power doesn’t always mean stability, and this is underscored by the fact that, at the end of the day, Anne is only infallible in terms of strength; she could only do so much to alleviate Lucy’s loneliness growing up (which is honestly a pretty clever mirror to her conflict of strength vs. vulnerability with Atsushi).

With Anne’s Room nullified by Fyodor, Lucy has truly nothing at her disposal. She's not physically strong (she’s 165 cm and weighs 44 kg, so… yeah ˙◠˙), and while by no means stupid, she doesn’t say repeatedly in this chapter that she doesn’t know what to do next for no reason. Anne’s Room is all she’s ever had. While at the orphanage, it was her only comfort. While in the Guild, it was her only value. With Atsushi, it was all she had to offer in return for his ultimate favor.

This, I feel, could be the establishing point for the next portion of her arc. She could strive to find a way out of the rubble, working together with Kyōka, and in the process learn to break away from her ability as what defines her role in all of this. One thing's for sure: something has to be done sooner or later – otherwise, they'll starve.

I dunno, maybe that’s wishful thinking given how much is already going on. But either way, I’ll hope against hope that this isn’t some one-off return, because Lucy has proven time and time again that she has a lot to offer to the story, both plot-wise and thematically.

Thanks for reading :)