Last Defense Writing

As the title suggests, I will be writing an analysis(?) of sorts about Philip’s Reception in Library of Ruina — specifically, his Distortion, The Crying Children, and how it ties to a certain proverb. In a similar vein, since it is relevant, I will also be using this piece to analyze the lyrics of the song that plays during this Reception, “And Is Heard No More” by Mili.

I will admit, this came to me on a whim, and I couldn’t resist the urge to write about it. It may not necessarily be anything new, either; nonetheless, I will try to go in as much detail as possible here, as I would like to perform a deep dive on this connection. I invite you all to sit back and read along.

Obviously, there will be major unmarked spoilers for Library of Ruina up to Urban Nightmare included in this writing piece. If you have not at least completed the Reception of The Crying Children, I suggest you close this tab and do so before reading. As much as I would like you to stay… I have always been of the opinion that Library of Ruina as a game is best played blind. I don’t want to ruin that experience.

So, with that out of the way, let’s get into the analysis.

A Deeper Look at Philip

To kick off this analysis, I think it’s important to take a look at Philip as a character. From the moment he’s introduced to us, we can tell that he’s… Not exactly the most confident Fixer in the industry. As an apprentice of Dawn Office and a Grade 5 Fixer, he has a rather strong admiration for his superiors, Yuna and Salvador. Despite lacking confidence in his capabilities as a Fixer, Philip strives to be of at least a little assistance to his peers in whatever way he can. It’s also implied that Philip has romantic feelings for Yuna, but is unable to properly express them to her.

Based on his status as an apprentice and his rank as a Grade 5 Fixer, it’s probably safe to say that Philip doesn’t have the most combat experience, especially in comparison to his colleagues. His weapon of choice is a short-sword, which is seen resting at his left hip in some of his sprites. This weapon choice would differ amidst the changes he goes through during the events of the game, later wielding a broad-sword and a long-sword respectively.

Philips internalized feelings of inadequacy and inferiority, however, would go on to be his downfall; we see Philip running away and just narrowly escaping from the Library when both Yuna and Salvador are killed and booked, and would do the exact same thing in a later Reception after being taken in by another Office. Needless to say, Philip is, in all sense of the matter, a coward. This is a trait that would time and again become a point of criticism from other individuals, but Philip is far too ensnared in his insecurities to escape from them. However, Philip’s reckless attempts at heroism only served to bring forth his destruction in the end, and had led several of his allies to their demise within the walls of the Library. The mindset of nobility is one that many Fixers in the industry opt against harbouring, as many believe that it is only best to look out for oneself in the unforgiving nature of the City.

During the first major fight against Philip, who gets his own phase in a later Reception, he would gain a shaky sense of determination to avenge his fallen Dawn Office colleagues and fight the Librarians head-on, but this would ultimately come crashing down as he just barely escapes his fate a second time.

In the rest of this essay, I will go more in-depth about Philip’s metamorphosis, and the cycle of pain he endures as he struggles against his own mind following two rather pivotal Receptions in his story. After all, Library of Ruina isn’t just about Angela and Roland — it’s about the City as a whole, those who dwell in it, and the Guests who end up on the Library’s doorstep. And Philip just so happens to be a recurring Guest.

Reception of The Crying Children

The Reception of The Crying Children is one that takes place during Urban Nightmare, in which the player is faced with a Distorted Philip. You may also consider this Reception the second “arc” for Philip, as it plays an integral role for both his story and his character as a whole.

While his first solo fight in the Reception of the Wedge Office shows Philip partially gaining E.G.O through his determination to avenge his fallen Dawn Office colleagues, the Reception of The Crying Children serves as an antithesis to this; here, Philip falls into a deep pit of despair and Distorts as a result. Throughout the story leading up to this point, we can clearly see that Philip has a somewhat loose grip on his mental state, and being in such a vulnerable position after watching two Offices he’s fought alongside die and be booked in the Library, it’s safe to say that Distorting was inevitable for him.

Philip has always been a rather finicky man, already believing himself to be inferior and undeserving of the title as a Fixer compared to those around him, and watching his co-workers die right before his eyes not once, but twice while he barely makes it out alone both times only served to make him feel more like a failure as a Fixer. In his mind, he had failed both the Dawn Office and the Wedge Office while he sees himself as no more than a coward for being the only one to escape the Library.

After the conclusion of this Reception, before Philip joins the fallen Wedge Office on the Library’s shelves as a book, he is suddenly transported out — something that Roland infers is likely the result of the Office’s Operator, Oscar, planting a teleportation device on Philip before entering the Library.

Now outside of the Library, Philip finds himself in a circus tent, the 8 o’clock Circus, where he is greeted by Oswald. While the ringleader regards him in a mock-friendly manner, Philip is repulsed by the things he sees in the tent. Oswald attempts to make two of his circus members perform for Philip, which only upsets him further. The two then begin arguing back and forth over their ideals of normality, until Philip remembers that the 8 o’clock circus is responsible for preventing the Wedge Office from aiding the Dawn Office in their excursion to the Library — realizing that this circus and its ringleader are his enemy, as they are the group that caused his co-workers’ deaths.

Aiming his sword in Oswald’s direction, Philip goes in to strike him down, but the quick-footed ringleader evades with ease and taunts him all the while. Philip’s E.G.O begins to waver due to his feelings of inferiority, and Oswald sees this as an opportunity to exploit him. Deciding to corrupt Philip into Distorting, he and his crew begin to psychologically torture the Fixer with illusions based on his insecurities. Within these illusions, Philip sees Salvador and Yuna, his fallen Dawn Office co-workers, who proceed to insult Philip for his weakness and cowardice. Then, to rub salt into the wound, the illusions would lead Philip into believing that the two of them were having an affair, knowing that (the real) Salvador was a married man.

Philip yells at Oswald for creating such slanderous illusions of his co-workers, to which the latter merely laughs, stating that he was merely showing the Fixer a scene that he strongly believed in. The ringleader continues to torment Philip, though; he mentions that Philip had been re-playing it in his mind, a clear indicator that it meant something to the insecure man, and even begins to quote from the apparitions.

This torment would cause Philip to spiral into despair, lashing out and his vision blackening in his anguish. Within that darkness stands a skeletal figure, who tells Philip that he can grant the Fixer the power to either slay Oswald, or enact revenge on the Library that had consumed his colleagues. Philip replies to this that he simply wants to shut out the world and cry by himself, to which the figure tells him that he can grant him such if he “listens to the voice.” In doing so, Philip gives in and Distorts, his unstable mind splitting off and becoming The Crying Children. These fragments would go to the Library, but would each be booked in the end save for one survivor.

The story of this Reception leading up to the fight itself is a stark contrast to his first major fight during the Reception of the Wedge Office; where the previous fight against Philip showcased the Fixer developing a (-n admittedly precarious) resolve to avenge both of the Offices that he fought for, and those of whom he feels he failed in running away, this Reception shows the complete reverse — the same man who was determined to seek revenge fall into the deepest depths of his own misery and Distort as a result.

Even so, despite the fantastical elements of Library of Ruina as a whole, I am personally of the opinion that both Receptions do an excellent job at writing Philip in such a human way; a man who had flown too close to the sun, blinded by his faulty resolve and his overbearing insecurities as a Fixer. Say what you will about Philip, his Receptions, or the game as a whole, but I do believe that he is definitely one of the more realistically-written characters. Well… As realistic as you can get in a game like Library of Ruina, anyway.

“And Then Is Heard No More”

Just like a handful of major Receptions in Library of Ruina, the Reception of The Crying Children features its own song: “And Then Is Heard No More” by Mili. As you can surmise, this song is specific to Philip in numerous ways, especially taking the events leading up to the Reception into consideration.

In this section, I will be analyzing each verse and tying the lyrics back to Philip in the aspects in which they are applied. While we’re going over them, I ask that you pay close attention to the lyrics, as certain lines will come up in the next section, which are important to mention on their own.

Do the candles look forward to being used?

Enjoy bidding adieu, adieu?

Every word I have saved for you came out wrong afterwards

So I spoke no more

Would you say

That someone who had every intention to be brave

Was a coward?

The lines “Every word I have saved for you came out wrong afterwards; So I spoke no more” represent the fact that many of Philip’s verbal confrontations did not exactly go well for him, especially towards his colleagues. In particular, he finds himself unable to retort against judgements of his cowardice, and he was even unable to properly confess his love for Yuna — something which seemed to bother Philip to a great extent, and is something which would later be weaponized against him.

Similarly, the lines “Would you say that someone who had every intention to be brave, was a coward?” is itself a reflection of Philip’s own self-vision and his actions during both the Reception of the Dawn Office and the Reception of the Wedge Office, where his meek facade of heroism comes tumbling down like a house of cards in the wake of overwhelming despair, fueled by Philip’s own internalizations.

Must be great being you

Power comes as second nature

Must feel amazing to be longed for, longed for

(I opened my eyes)

Cemented excuses to my lashline

So I could see no more

It’s no secret that Philip holds a sense of jealousy towards his peers, feeling that they have strength come naturally to them as opposed to him, in which he still believes himself to be weak in comparison. The first two lines illustrate this fact.

This also ties in with the lines “Cemented excuses to my lashline; So I could see no more.” Philip constantly makes up mental excuses for his ill-thought out actions (or inaction, in some instances), such as calling his cowardice a “tactical retreat” or blaming his supposed “lack of strength,” among other things. These excuses would inevitably cause him to dig into himself as he clung to the illusions birthed from these excuses, growing on the fertilizer of his own insecurities which he was so desperate to escape from.

So which home should somеone as weak as I go?

(And which sky should I aim for when I've only been low?)

I have only been low

Day and night your ghosts continue to haunt me

Tell me who to be

Philip considers himself to be pathetically weak to an astronomical scale, and he believes himself to have failed both his home Office (Dawn Office) and Wedge Office, being the reason that they were snuffed out and had tucked his tail and ran at the first sign of his own impending doom. To Philip, he is a lowly, insignificant man undeserving of the title as a Fixer with horrifically misplaced aspirations.

In relation to this, I also believe it’s safe to say that the lines “Day and night your ghosts continue to haunt me; Tell me who to be” represent Philip’s immense guilt over having allowed his coworkers to die while he escaped with his life, and this guilt gnaws at him relentlessly. This guilt would serve to be his undoing, however, as Oswald weaponizes it with illusions of Yuna and Slavador to torment Philip into Distorting, by giving into the voice that coaxes him into such a form.

If I went with you, will there be happily-ever-afters?

Sipping on tea I steeped together, together

(Read me a story of a hero born knowing the all)

Read me a book of me

So I could hear no more

In the lines “If I went with you, will there be happily-ever-afters?” and “(Read me a story of a hero born knowing the all); Read me a book of me,” it reflects Philip’s contemplation of the tragedies that had transpired. If he had stayed behind in the Library and accepted his fate — dying and turning into a book — that everything may have been different. At the very least, he wouldn’t be trapped in his cycle of agony, and he would have died with a warped sense of nobility. Philip likely believed that he would have been a “hero” of sorts between the pages of his own book, had he died in the Library. With the way books work in the anomalous Library, it’s easy to wonder what would be written in one’s own book.

While it’s somewhat minor, the line “Sipping on tea I steeped together, together” could possibly be in reference to Philip’s affinity with brewing tea. Philip’s tea was often complimented by his Dawn Office peers, and it seems to be the one thing that Philip himself sees himself as capable at.

All in all, I believe that this song paints a very vivid picture into Philip’s mentality during the Reception, and his contemplation and reflection on all that had transpired leading up to this point. Though, remember how I stated that there were specific lyrics that I would cover in the next section? Well…

三猿の教え - Teachings of the Three Wise Monkeys

In the beginning of the last section, I asked you to pay special attention to the lyrics as there are a certain few lines that stand out, which are important enough to garner their own section. Did you figure them out?

If you caught onto what I’ve been referring to, then they are found in the first verse and towards the end of the second and fourth verses.

Every word I have saved for you came out wrong afterwards

So I spoke no more

(I opened my eyes)

Cemented excuses to my lashline

So I could see no more

(Read me a story of a hero born knowing the all)

Read me a book of me

So I could hear no more

Spoke no more, see no more, hear no more.

…Speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil.

This schematic is actually in reference to a specific pictorial maxim known as the Three Wise Monkeys (三猿). The maxim tells of, as the name suggests, three monkeys named Mizaru (見ざる), who does not see and covers his eyes, Kikazaru (聞かざる), who does not hear and covers his ears, and Iwazaru (言わざる), who does not speak and covers his mouth. The three wise monkeys can often be found portrayed in carvings, with one of the most well-known being those at the Shinkyūsha (神厩舎), or Sacred Stable, of Nikkō Tōshō-gū (日光東照宮) shrine located in Tochigi-ken (栃木県) — the carving having been believed to be courtesy of Hidari Jingorō (左甚五郎). The origin of the proverb itself, however, is a subject of debate, with some believing that it originated from Tendai-Buddhism, brought to Japan from China during the Nara Period (奈良時代).

Now, the actual interpretation of the maxim may differ depending on your beliefs or where you live, but according to Buddhist tradition, it is a proverb which advises one to avoid evil thoughts or deeds. However, some individuals — particularly those in the West — may interpret it as “turning a blind eye” to improprieties, misdeeds, or those possessing a lack of moral principles. However, some also believe that the proverb is actually in reference to conducting good behaviour. I will leave the interpretation to you.

However, considering both of these interpretations and the teachings of the Buddhist proverb, I believe that the pictorial maxim in reading ties in well with the overarching themes of Philip’s own story, as we have seen leading up to our second notable fight against him.

Additionally, this can be found within the Reception itself; in each phase of the fight, the player is pit against grotesque manifestations of Philip’s unstable mind called the Crying Children — the Unseeing Child, the Unhearing Child, and the Unspeaking Child respectively. They all take the form of stone cherubim, with the Unseeing Child covering its eyes, the Unhearing Child covering its ears, and the Unspeaking Child covering its mouth. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

This even extends to the dialogue text present during the Reception as well…

When I cover my ears, I can only hear my own voice. I can pay full attention to the sounds I make.

If I mistake a gentle voice for something aggressive, it’s their fault for speaking like that. Am I right?
… …

It’s simple. I don’t have to look, do I? I don’t have to face that darkness.
I’m not hearing anything I don’t wanna hear!
…

I don’t have to hear to guess what they’re saying. I bet they’re slandering me.

… … …

Seeing, hearing, and speaking evil are all deeds that I can consciously prevent myself from doing.

However, that alone won’t purge all evil from the world.

A prudent sight capable of distinguishing good from evil is needed.

In contrast to sharing joy with others, sympathizing with the sorrow of others is certain to be an unduly shallow exercise.

Only I can soundly feel the pain of the sorrow I am wallowing in

Turn a blind eye to all that tries to hurt me.

Turn a deaf ear to words that will lead me down the wrong path.

Turn a mute mouth to unnecessary evil.

And last of all, act not. Make myself happy that way.

What does goodwill mean to me?
No one’s going to cry on my behalf even if I’m sad.

I don’t want to hear anything. I don’t want to see anything, or speak anything…

The first group of dialogue can tie in well with the second interpretation, “turning a blind eye to improprieties.” In these lines, Philip is clearly attempting to block out the outside world, and anything that he does not want to face or hear. It doesn’t really matter what it is — if Philip doesn’t have to pay it any mind, then he surely cannot be responsible for it, or so he believes. After all, this was what he desired when he found himself in the darkest depths of his despair.

On the other side of this though, I believe that the second group of dialogue especially drives home the connection to the Buddhist proverb, as Philip states his desires are to turn a blind eye to anything that could hurt him, to turn a deaf ear to words that would mislead him, to turn a mute mouth to unnecessary evil, and to act not; in doing so, he will achieve his own happiness, free from the world’s evils.

There is one line here that is notable, however: “And last of all, act not. Make myself happy that way.” This actually comes from a variation of the maxim, “do no evil,” which is sometimes represented by a fourth monkey, Shizaru (しざる), and comes from the full excerpt in the Analects of Confucius, or simply The Analects (論語). This, of course, refers to committing evil deeds, not dissimilar to the first three.

Now, with Philip having believed to be the reason that the Dawn Office and the Wedge Office lost their lives in the Library, he wanted nothing more than to shut everything else out and dig himself further into his own pit, where he could cry alone. In doing so, he believes that he will not be influenced by worldly evils. In doing so, he himself would be unable to commit evils on his own merit.

Always running, always scared. And now, face-to-face with the terrible fate that he believes he is responsible for, wishes to hide from the world and all that sought to hurt and mislead him further. This was the desire which he expressed, and those desires took the form of a Distortion: The Crying Children. The Children who can not see, the Children who can not hear, and the Children who can not speak.

Regardless of how you choose to interpret this, there is no denying that Philip’s story as a whole, and the Reception of the Crying Children more-so, is heavily tied to the teachings of the Three Wise Monkeys. And Philip, who was caught up in the snares of his own actions, his excuses, and the ugly truths he did not want to hear, found himself swallowed up by his suffering. Though, isn’t that just the nature of the City? There is no escaping it, no matter how hard one may try.

Dawn Office Fixer Sinclair

While this section covers a specific Limbus Company Identity, I still believe that it is notable enough to go over on its own, especially considering that the Identity itself is that of Philip, for the Sinner Sinclair.

I do want to mention that, while not to the same level as I had just gone over, I will be briefly talking about Canto III, so I ask that please be wary of minor spoilers for it.

Introduced in Walpurgisnacht III, Dawn Office Fixer Sinclair is, as I mentioned, based on Philip from the same Office. The Identity also features a unique mechanic that allows Sinclair to “transform” into Philip’s E.G.O from his first solo fight when certain conditions are met in combat.

It actually makes the most sense for Sinclair to receive this Identity, considering their similarities; especially taking into account the events of Canto III — Sinclair’s Canto — his development during such, and him eventually gaining the resolve to destroy Kromer at all costs towards the climax, not unlike Philip had done to partially achieve his E.G.O during the second phase of the Reception of the Wedge Office.

Dawn Office Fixer Sinclair possesses the passive Unstable Shell of Ego, which, once he gains 40+ SP in combat, allows him to consume 20 of that SP to “transform” into his E.G.O state, Volatile E.G.O::Waxen Pinion. In this state, Sinclair dons the same partial E.G.O that Philip attains in the second phase of the Reception of the Wedge Office and enjoys various boons to his skills. While this state isn’t a permanent change during the entire fight in which he participates in (as he exits the state if he starts the next turn with 0 SP or less), it’s certainly not a bad Identity.

The Identity story is especially notable, however; the story details Sinclair, in place of Philip, hesitantly accompanying the Dawn Office to handle an Urban Plague threat known as the Library. There, it is stated by the narrator that both Dawn Office and another Office — Wedge Office — were assimilated and booked within the Library’s walls. Sinclair was the only one to make it out alive in both instances.

After narrowly escaping death, Sinclair is gripped by a strong sense of dread, believing that he had failed all of his colleagues, and his home Office more-so. Was everything he had done nothing but self-serving justifications? If he continued down this path, would he only dig himself into a deeper pit in his cowardice?

Sinclair reflects on his actions leading up to their demise, and contemplates which path to take moving forward. Deep in his heart, he knows he’s selfish. He allowed all of those who lifted him up and protected him to die while he walked away with his life and his tail between his legs. Shield his eyes from apprehension (see no more), plug his ears from the voice (hear no more), shut his mouth from the lies that he does this all out of altruism (speak no more).

He wonders if he should give in to the comforting voice whispering in his ears in this moment, or…

Sinclair refuses the voice. He decides that his burdens are his own to bear, and he must face them without fear. The fires of his shaky, ill-constructed resolve rises to an inferno, and he manifests an E.G.O amidst the ashes. The voice expresses disappointment, but assures Sinclair that when his lone wing melts and he can no longer fly, that she will be waiting for him once more.

The Identity story aligns well with that of Philip’s own, specifically leading up to the second phase of the Reception of the Wedge Office, where he manifests the same partial E.G.O upon the defeat of his Wedge Office allies. Here, however, Sinclair does not follow the path to eventually giving in to the voice and Distorting in the wake of his despair. The voice, by the way, is the very same that Philip hears in both instances — who he refuses at first, but eventually ends up giving in to.

We can actually tie this with Sinclair’s development in Canto III; during the events of the Canto, Sinclair fears Kromer who had not only manipulated him into submission, but had convinced him to let her into his basement and, overcome with obsession of what she found there and driven by the belief that those with prosthetic augmentations should not be permitted to live, snuffed out his entire family. Towards the end of the Canto, when the LCB eventually go back to that basement to retrieve the Golden Bough and confront Kromer, Sinclair eventually builds up the determination to continue fighting and face her head-on.

It’s safe to say that both Sinclair and Philip went down paralleled paths, with them both experiencing the same fear and cowardice, and eventually overcoming their fears and gaining the resolve to face them.

Closing Thoughts

Well… That was certainly quite a bit, wasn’t it? I know that this was written more in a flight of fancy, but nevertheless I enjoyed going through everything I’ve discussed here~

Something I did not mention in these sections, but I still feel is important, is Philip’s E.G.O. While not fully gaining an E.G.O due to his instability, it’s worth noting that it is based on the Greek mythological story of Icarus, who, along with his father Daedalus, are imprisoned by King Minos. Daedalus plans their escape by crafting the two a pair of wings made of feathers, cloth, and beeswax, but Icarus flies too close to the sun and causes his wings to melt away, leading him to fall from the sky and drown in the sea below.

This ties in well with Philip’s own story (and, in the same vein, Dawn Office Fixer Sinclair’s Identity story), all the way down to his E.G.O’s design, granting him armour engulfed in fire and a singular wing, which also seconds as a shield. And actually, fire would become a recurring theme for Philip not just in his partial E.G.O form, but his Distorted forms as well.

Now, I understand that I may have worded things rather haphazardly in writing this document, and I know I didn’t cover the Reception of the Reverberation Ensemble or their Distortions, but nevertheless I still felt it was important to attempt to tie all of this together in two of Philip’s most prominent appearances. I hope I succeeded in doing so. I’d be tickled pink if you enjoyed reading this, even if just a little.

Philip is definitely a character that I personally hold dear to me, and I particularly loved watching him go through the rounds of the Library’s merciless nature; running from his fear, facing that fear, falling into despair, and rising from the ashes one last time during the Reverberation Ensemble’s Receptions.

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Something that I've always thought about is how the symbolism of the praying mantis ties with many of the themes of Hanazawa's route and character. I would like to (re)introduce this idea in a written form, and my explanation into each aspect of both. Please be mindful of spoilers as we go along, since I will be discussing parts of Hanazawa's route and character in general. Also be mindful of trigger warnings such as violence, death, rape / non-con, and so on.

Before I begin though, I want to say that this is mostly speculative reading. You may not agree with my points, or you have different interpretations as me. Also; yes, I do like Hanazawa and the Hanatama (花玉) CP and ship them in general, but I will try to be unbiased in my writing.

First, it is important to explain the symbolism of the praying mantis. Other cultures may have different ideas, but in Japan it has dual symbolic meanings, which I feel are reflected very well in Hanazawa's character and story, and is the basis in which I am tying symbolism here.

The praying mantis is typically seen as a symbol of military strength, fearlessness, and honour — which soldiers are expected to exhibit. It's often compared to samurai, and it's reflected in art and armoury, one example is a suit of armour headed by Tokugawa Yorinobu (徳川頼宣).

 

The mantis has been fashioned into such armour and sword guards called tsuba (鍔) to brandish the warrior as a threat to adversaries and as a show of strength. I believe that this mentality and the insect's symbolic representation go hand-in-hand. One example of tsuba is below.



Additionally, it is worth mentioning that the praying mantis is called kamakiri (蟷螂生) in Japan, a term which also refers to the cutting action of a scythe / sickle. It makes sense, given their physique and hunting methods. This ties in well with their symbolism just as much.

However, there is a darker meaning as well: just as the praying mantis is a symbol of honour, it is also one of cruelty and ruthlessness — especially considering their status as natural predators. Furthermore, there is a superstition that seeing one can be a sign of death. The praying mantis silently grasp their prey with an assassin's grace, no matter what that prey might be, before killing and devouring them. While this is simply the cycle of life in motion, they are undeniable predators that do not adhere to the concepts of cruelty and morality.

Despite this though, it is also because of their predation that many individuals regard the insect well: they often appear in gardens or crop-lands and eat pests, thus protecting the crops. This is also why some refer to the praying mantis as the "samurai" of the insect world. With all of this in mind, it is easy to tie to Hanazawa's character: a soldier in the Taishō era, a symbol of the country's strength. Tamamori and Kawase especially look up to him, with the former even considering Hanazawa as his big brother and confiding in him for protection.

Hanazawa was always there to protect Tamamori as they grew up together, and even in the events of the BLG we can see that he clearly has a sense of duty to protect the nation of Japan — even to extreme measures (which is a bit understandable given his position as a military man). This is very in-line with the perception of the praying mantis as a "protector" of sorts. It is also a large part of why Tamamori looks up to him as a big brother, and also why he confides in him for protection at various points, such as when he was being chased by the Phantom.

But just like the praying mantis, Hanazawa too has a dark side to him. This side of him is especially apparent in his own route, where he snuffs out their childhood friends and rapes Tamamori in an attempt to gain the Hashihime's favour and abilities for use of the military. The praying mantis kills and eats its prey without hesitation or remorse, all in the name of instinct. In a similar vein, it is possible to attribute Hanazawa's actions in the BLG — and his route more-so — with him acting upon duty as a soldier. It's for the sake of the country.

Does that justify everything Hanazawa did? Especially considering his extremism and the way he treated Tamamori and his friends, not at all. However, in Hanazawa's mind, his actions were all for what he deemed a "greater good". He believed that those sacrifices needed to be made. When the praying mantis mercilessly kills its prey, it doesn't question the morality behind the action — the insect does not even possess the capacity to. It does so out of necessity and instinct, which is just in general nature. Hanazawa's mentality could reflect this also.

When considering the predator / prey dynamics, we can make some points about Tamamori in his relationship with Hanazawa in the position of the "prey." Hanazawa's H-scene could be likened to the act of a mantis devouring its prey — in this case, stripping Tamamori of his autonomy. The H-scene is undoubtedly a loss of purity for Tamamori, and this can be represented in the way that a prey item falls victim to the predator for its own benefits (survival). It is not to say that Tamamori is completely pure, but this is often what rape and SA is attributed to. When considering this dynamic, Tamamori can be paralleled to prey, and Hanazawa to the mantis. He henceforth desecrated Tamamori's dignity, driven by a twisted sense of duty and horrific desire which Tamamori and the others took the brunt of — hurting far worse than being eaten.

With this in mind, within the act of natural predation, we can derive the idea that the praying mantis is stripping its prey of its beauty, defiling it, by tearing the helpless animal apart and consuming it. This can parallel with Tamamori being defiled from being raped as well. Moreover, Tamamori attempts to escape from Hanazawa at several points during the H-Scene, much like an insect struggling against the praying mantis when it takes hold of it. However, much like prey caught by a predator, Tamamori is helpless and forced to accept his cruel fate. The loss of purity can also be derived from Tamamori's sense of betrayal at being completely destroyed in the hands of the man he considered his big brother, the man who had protected him up until now. And even still, Tamamori was crying out for Hanazawa to save him through it.

Despite all this though, I wouldn't fully demonize Hanazawa, nor do I consider him purely heartless — his Append epilogue gives weight to this. However, as mentioned before, Hanazawa believed that these sacrifices needed to be made in what he considered to be for a greater good.

I feel it's also worth mentioning Hanazawa's feelings; specifically, I think that his desires and feelings for Tamamori were so restrained that it came out in a brutal and hideous way, while also harming him in order to transfer his curse for the sake of the cause he believes in. Of course, in Hanazawa acting upon militaristic duty, he wound up brutally harming those he had cared about. In what he considered an act for "greater good," it is much like how a predator like the praying mantis must consume its prey for survival. It was simply cruel necessity.

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