Review of Taisho Otome Fairy Tale

Writing a romance story set in the early 20th century Japan that doesn't feel exploitative is a tall order. Back then, women were still perceived as little more than the property of their fathers with the equally endearing prospect of becoming the property of their future husbands via an arranged marriage. They were mostly uneducated beyond basic schooling, had very few rights, their career opportunities were severely limited and had all sorts of visible and invisible barriers. Not exactly the best place and time to be born without the fifth limb, as you can imagine. It followed that any true romance for a woman ofmarriable age was more the result of a blind luck than anything she could control.

Knowing all that, it's hard not to feel apprehensive at the premise which begins with Yuzuki, a 14 y.o. girl from a poor family, being literally sold (yep, for money) to the wealthy Shimas as a gift bride to their youngest son Tamahiko, whose recently acquired disability estranged him from his stern father and elder siblings. These days it would've been seen as none other than child trafficking, which is obviously a problem, though it should be mentioned that this decision is forced on both Yuzuki and Tamahiko, so he doesn't get a say in the matter, either. All the while, the pre-opening sequence keeps framing Yuzuki as more of a concept than a person, which could've possibly been acceptable the first time around, but having it precede every episode (the anime-original decision) is counterproductive at best, and outright dehumanizing if we're being real about it. So the show is definitely off to a rough start, but where does it take us as we go along?

First thing first, it recognizes the main problem—which is already better than some of the more acclaimed shows do in a similar situation (*cough* VIOLET EVERGARDEN *cough*). The forced marriage arrangement, especially through such inhumane means, is a surprise to both Yuzuki and Tamahiko, and neither of them is happy about it. The rumor spreads quickly, and villagers immediately start looking down on them, even though the decision was negotiated by the kids' parents without giving the prospective husband and wife any room to decline. Seeing it explicitly called out by both the leads and unrelated characters is definitely a positive sign in terms of where the show chooses to stand in terms of its morals.

Now, if this were a pure wish fulfillment vessel, you'd expect the two leads to quickly ignore that, fall in love, and happily agree to spend the rest of their time together despite having nothing in common (*cough* TONIKAKU KAWAII *cough*), but thankfully, that doesn't happen, either. Tamahiko is heavily depressed by his life seemingly ruined by the disabling hand injury, and is, at first, annoyed by Yuzuki's cheerful presence. He gives her minimal courtesy as one would provide to an uninvited guest, and is willing to send her back to her parents, no strings attached, so that he could keep wallowing in self-pity like the self-proclaimed pessimist he is. And realistically, this is also the best he is expected to do: despite his inherently higher social standing, he's still by all means a kid only three years her senior, living at the mercy of his tyrannical father who orchestrated the whole deal.

But this is where the show cleverly takes advantage of its historical setting and has Yuzuki refuse the offer on the very reasonable grounds that if this boy showed her kindness right off the bat—even though he wasn't obliged to, even though he had reasons not to engage in social behavior, even though the marriage was arranged against his will—it would probably be okay to put her faith in him. On the other hand, if she were to return to her parents, in all likelihood they would simply get rid of her again like they have already done once, and in all likelihood it would've gone much worse the second time around. There is no easy or safe choice here, which truly feels bad, but Yuzu asserts what little agency she has in the situation and places her bet on staying with Tamahiko.

And as that somber realization sinks in, it becomes obvious that Taisho Otome Fairy Tale actually understands what it's doing better than most modern romance stories originating in Japan: it's using a very inherently problematic premise for a genuine attempt to humanize its characters and create a positive vibe within its unquestionably dark constraints while remaining aware of them. And while I can't say it goes very far beyond the bare minimum of what I'd consider acceptable for the kind of challenge it undertakes, thankfully, it does put up a valiant effort toward not becoming yet another Stockholm syndrome showcase every time Yuzu is demonstrating her bottomless devotion to Tamahiko. There is enough heartfelt writing in there to make the pair feel like they can still responsibly support and find comfort in each other, even though their meeting wasn't by their choice. They grow to play off of each other and have a certain degree of onscreen chemistry and personal charisma unlike the leads in much less problematic romance series (*cough* TSUKI GA KIREI *cough*). And it wouldn't be a spoiler to say that they do eventually fall in love for real, and it does feel pleasantly nice. It is most certainly a healing story at its core: it accomplishes its narrative goal by showing what it means to heal and be healed, and certainly does a good job at that.

The side-cast of the series, especially Tamahiko's younger sister Tamako, are a pure joy to behold; this is the element that really breathes life into the show, grounds it in reality, and catalyzes the development of the main pair—which is, thankfully, quite prominent and well-paced. It is through these interactions with the other characters that Tamahiko's view of his life situation (and his relationship with Yuzuki in particular) widens and becomes more adult and responsible, his motivation and joy for life return, and he learns to work around his disability to be a good husband to Yuzuki and avoid ending up helpless every time something bad happens. And Yuzu herself also becomes happier knowing she is safe with Tamahiko, she still has friends and allies in her new life, there are new things to look forward to, and her marriage will not revolve around pleasing her husband. (Holy cow, that sentence was sad.)

Perhaps the main reason the series couldn't do any better than it managed to is that it's simply too entrenched in the premise it chose, which set the characters up in all too different positions of power. When you try empathizing with both of the main duo, you inevitably notice how Tamahiko not only starts off vastly more privileged, but *still* gets the better end of the deal by the end—even considering the historic circumstances are already favorable for the kind of character he is. He has more agency at pretty much every turn, and despite that it could be argued that over the course of the series Yuzuki enables him more so than he enables her. Other than a few personal belongings, she has nothing to her name and is essentially a nobody without her benefactor, despite putting in most of the work in their shared household. Metaphorically speaking, she was moved from a small rusty bird cage into a much spacier bird cage with a better view and an ability to fly around the room every now and then in exchange for extra chores to do. At the same time, Tamahiko got what is essentially a new lease on life, a new career, a jackpot of a partner—basically everything that wasn't already provided by his family. Both of their situations have undoubtedly become better, but not symmetrically so, and it's particularly regrettable because the characters are lovable enough to make you wish a better life for both of them.

The other reason the show isn't as good as it could've been is that Yuzu's character isn't explored remotely enough for us to really know her outside the context of her relationship with Tamahiko. Indeed, he is a good and well-developed character, but we only see the story from his perspective—and romance is a game for two. I know this would probably go at odds with the positive atmosphere the series tried to cultivate so hard on such a barren soil, but in order for the romance to truly feel deserved, we needed to have a deeper insight into Yuzu's situation, too: how she felt about being torn away from her old life, how her anxieties and disposition towards marriage with Tamahiko evolved over time, what were her thought processes, when did simple gratitude for being treated like a fellow human being turn into genuine romantic affection, what other interests she has, and so on. Yuzu's character needed a better look; she deserved it, we deserved it. But, well, at least she's already elevated above the typical servile pleasure robots the female leads tend to be in the iyashikei subgenre (*cough* SEWAYAKI KITSUNE NO SENKO-SAN *cough*). Which, considering the premise, is somehow an achievement. Look, I know, I also feel stupid saying this, but that's just the sad reality we have to deal with.

Frankly, it's because of stuff like this that I constantly have to lower my standards when reviewing teenage romance manga/anime. Seriously, why can't more of them be like Insomniacs After School, Molester Man, Kaguya-sama, or even Toradora? With characters who have complex and believable emotions, who are influenced but not defined by their past or the social group they're written into, who act out the plot but aren't strung along by it? You know, like real people? When it comes to Taisho Otome, it clearly bit off a little more than it could chew, but it also had a clear and meaningful vision of what it wanted to achieve. It wasn't a bad effort by any means, and I think it would be fair to say the show is on the better side of the spectrum despite all of its problems. Because if anything, it strives to work *against* the problems of the genre and setting it chose rather than *creating* new problems on the spot—which is already more than a typical Japanese romance can manage. It doesn't do a GREAT job, but it does a GOOD job. And on the very surface level, it just looks cute and leaves a cavity-inducing sweet aftertaste. It's something I can recommend and not feel blood on my hands. Oh god, Japan... just start writing actual good romance more often than twice a decade already, ffs.

P.S. I'd read the manga before the anime, and the adaptation is done very well, with beautiful designs that faithfully translate the sugary sweetness of the manga's tone. I'd probably say it's a superior experience overall. I hope the same team does the sequel as well.