This is a reread from the distant past, before I had Goodreads or even the first iteration of my blog. But I own a copy of Brave Story and have been planning to reread it for the past decade (I carried this 800-page brick to Japan and back after all). I just hadn’t gotten around to actually doing so because it’s so long.

And because of the sad beginning.

But I’ve finished rereading it and wow, the emotional ride was just as intense as before. Actually, I think rereading as an adult is more rewarding – not only am I more familiar with RPG games now, the concept of shades of grey in people is easier to grasp.

In Brave Story, Wataru journeys into Vision to try and change his fate. His fate being his father walking out on his family to start a new life with his mistress, thus driving his mother to attempt suicide. But although he has a clear quest in Vision (and a competitor/friend named Mitsuru), Wataru finds himself side-tracked as he makes friends with Kee Keema, Meena, and other inhabitants of Vision.

On the surface, this is a pretty straightforward tale of a boy growing up through a quest. As cliched as it sounds, Wataru must grow in character (journeying inwards, in a way) in order for him to grow as a Traveler and complete his Quest. This growth is signified by the finding of significant stones that will allow him to find the Tower of Destiny and change his fate.

But the story is a lot more than that. I think I was most impressed with how delicately it handled the topic of Wataru’s father’s betrayal. When I was younger, the ending of the book wasn’t completely satisfying because nothing happened to the father – he left and that was that. Wataru finished his quest but nothing happened. It was infuriating to me because I wanted to see Justice (with a capital J) done for Wataru and his mother.

This time, I have a much greater appreciation for how Miyabe handled this storyline. Because Vision reflects Wataru’s thoughts, some inhabitants will look like people that he knows in real life. Two of these inhabitants are the look-alikes of his father and his mistress, following a similar storyline. Through this, Wataru gets to see what happens when he lets his anger control him and another side of the mistress (she was nice to him in Vision, compared to his one and only meeting with her in the real world).

Make no mistake, the world of Vision doesn’t excuse the actions of the father look-alike and his mistress. While the book is silent on the character of the mistress, the man who resembles Wataru’s father is just as selfish in Vision (selling fake tears that could harm people) as he is in real life (framing his actions as the fault of his wife and the only logical decision). The point isn’t for Wataru to understand his father’s feelings or for him to see that his father is actually a good guy – the point is for Wataru to learn that he cannot hold on to anger to his father because it will harm him and others. There is an undertone of how the two characters see themselves as doing what is good but against societal norms which is also interesting to explore, but I think the main lesson here is what Wataru learns. I think that this is even more valuable than having his father come back at the end of the book because it provides Wataru, and by extension, his mother, a chance to grow in a positive way. Happiness doesn’t always come by having things return to the way they were – sometimes it comes after the pain of moving past.

Overall, I loved this book as much (if not more!) this time round than I did the original time. Because of this and The Gate of Sorrows, I’m even more eager to find a copy of The Book of Heroes.