Yu-Yu Hakusho: The Hero's Journey

The Journey

To those of you unfamiliar with the concept, maybe because you haven't ever had a five hour long conversation with me about no topic in particular (or because you don't spend the majority of your day reading random stuff on the internet) there's an underlying structure to storytelling and character arcs. A structure that is present and can be followed step by step, to either frame the vast majority of narrative ever created (from classic mythology to modern superhero movies) or even create new stories from scratch like if it was an instruction manual ―as George Lucas did when filming the original Star Wars trilogy. Once you see it, you can't stop. It's everywhere. This structure is known as The Hero's Journey.

There could be a debate about if that's intended by the authors or not. It could be an unconscious product of the accumulation of influence by works that follow that structure, the product of the audience selecting for it (because it fucking works) or who knows what. In essence, narrative tends to converge towards it, regardless of reason. I guess, the deeper question would be "why" that happens. And why there are universal themes that seem to emerge independently inside of it, across time and space, in different civilizations. But that's well beyond what I will talk about here.  

First proposed by Joseph Campbell's "A Hero With A Thousand Faces", a book which I have pretended to have read many times (and still meant to, any day now) the book states that the journey consists on...

This.

This image is not exactly what Campbell described, I took it from the internet and seems to be a depiction of the work of Christopher Vogler, a more recent author that also talked about the topic. But it's great. In it, there are all the important elements:

First, the soon-to-be-hero meets a "call to adventure" that forces him to advance his passivity in the small world. Then, he encounters some kind of supernatural force, or a world hidden from him. Then he faces the guardian of the threshold between the known and the unknown, which he eventually crosses. He meets significant and recurrent figures to navigate this new world, like the "helper" and the "mentor", and faces significant challenges and temptations. The setting is expanded, and the ramifications of his initial call to adventure are shown. Something goes bad, one way or another, and he realizes that, to overcome the inevitable obstacles, he will need to undergo fundamental transformation. He enters the cave to face his own shadow, that in order to master he must go through "death and rebirth": process in which the character finally transitions between who started the journey into the fully fledged hero he needs to be. Then the character is able to overcome his challenges, atone for the consequences of his acts, and eventually go back to his own "known world" being changed; making the necessary changes to be able to live in it again, but with still being in him a touch of the supernatural and the reward for his journey.

The Problem

There's variations (anti-hero arc, villain arc...) it comes in different colors sometimes, the parts can be slightly reorganized or subverted, the steps can be organized differently, explained differently, grouped differently, expanded differently, with different emphasis. But this is it. You have now seen every movie and book in the market ever. Japanese manga is just another way to tell what is essentially, the same story. Shonen is specially guilty of this. 

A point could be made that the cycle doesn't actually say anything: that if it's so successful at explaining stories, it's precisely because it's flexible enough to explain any possible story (if we torture it enough). You could also say that, given that it exists, it's existence is good or bad. Restrictive or not. At it's best, the existence of the cycle can just be a rough blueprint, and what's important is what we fill the gaps with. At it's worst, the cycle could mean we are just putting different names into the same archetypes and scenarios, painting in a coloring book over blank inexpressive faces. It could mean that storytelling is solved, and we're stupid, and watching the same thing over and over, like little kids. Deluding ourselves into thinking we are creating something new.

Which one of whose is true: I don't know. I have no idea.

Moving on.

Yu-Yu Hakusho.

I have seen the series about three and a half times in my life. I will now bore you with the details. First when I was a teen and they put it in our relatively small regional TV channel on the afternoons dubbed in our native language. We had just all watched Dragon Ball (like five times) and we were hungry for exactly the same but a little bit different and a little bit new. So we fell in love instantly. Then I watched it again on my own. Then I watched it with a girlfriend. Then we recently watched half of it with some friends in a Discord channel sharing screens where we procrastinate together the times of the year our sleep schedules overlap. 

The thing with animes and character arcs is, the journey is made and completed in each season or arc. But then, once resolved, the show must go on. 

This problem was particularly stark in Dragon Ball, where Akira Toriyama "solved" it by restarting it again and again, creating a snowballing effect of insane powerscaling, nonsensical (if not nonexistent) character development, and each time a bigger and bigger scope; that once created he closed immediately by stating that the main villain was the strongest there was in it, destroying the future possibilities of his own world-building because he's an idiot (but it's our idiot, and we love him). In essence, he created a sort of spiraling outwards hero's cycle. Similarly, the Evangelion guy made a sort of spiraling inwards type of cycle, and then outwards again (he was weird). 

Other things Toriyama tried to solve the problem, was to develop certain side characters and put them in the centrifuge. To his credit, he even tried to change the entire focus of the series towards one of them to make him develop his own journey (you know who I'm talking about) but miserably failed because of reasons. Maybe because fans just (again) wanted more of the same, or because he already "solved" the character before starting: maybe because he created it with intrinsic limitations. Gohan was solved in the Cell saga, and making him the lead in the next one didn't work, because he didn't have the natural appeal of his predecessor that allowed him to sort of limp through. Anyway. The thing is, it's not clear what you do. 

How do you avoid the structure becoming a too predictable formula, to be repeated again and again?

The Solution

Maybe you can "nest" cycles in a way that, when drawn together, they form an invisible, subtle, bigger cycle. Because even when every arc and season (sometimes even chapter) of a show has to "make sense" in itself and that means having his own self-concluding structure, maybe you can use them as building blocks to draw something else. 

Let me open paint.

And I think that's what shows try to do, more or less. Or would like to, anyway. Either at a chapter level, arc level, separate character's level or season level. To make every stage of the journey a journey itself.

The Hero

There's parts of the anime, particularly about Yusuke Urameshi that I never understood when I was little. Perhaps because Son Goku never faced the same kind of problems, or not enough of them. In Dragon Ball, he seemed to always naturally accept the futility of his endevour head-on. The man liked fighting, and food. And that was it. Even if the author constructs for him the classical things to fight for, in some way we always knew that deep down, in a childish way, he never gave a crap. We knew his thirst for conflict contradicted his better angels, a conflict that only could be resolved by a certain brand of relatable stupidity. The necessary whimsical nature of the lead contrasted with the seriousness and stakes of the world-ending events. In Yu-Yu Hakusho the hero follows a more or less equal nihilistic fashion, but quickly (well, immediately) seems to drop out of it, and starts to worry about things like friendship, family and the fate of the world. The construction of the character, while still forcefully simple at times, tried to build upon his decisions and what happens to him afterwards; but that clashes with the needs of the scenarios. The story claims for an end to his character development that an endless series cannot provide, no matter how many new and bigger external threats you introduce for him to defeat and how apparently valuable are the lessons he learns through the way.

The last two arcs of Yu-Yu Hakusho are usually dismissed as inferior, seen as an unnecessary continuation, or as a departure of the more narrative pure and classical Dark Tournament arc (to which eventually the author seems to want to return to). But precisely in the last arc of them all, the main character, in the apocalyptic climatic combat showdown between him and what could be considered the main villain of the arc, the main hero gets hit just once in the face, is knocked down and just stays there. He just states: "I don't want to fight anymore." Which comes as a surprise to everyone. It's explicit in the series itself too. The villain answers, as he starts hitting him again. "What do you mean you don't want to fight anymore? What do you mean you don't know why you're fighting? It was you who organized all this. It was for you, for this fight, the reason why we abandoned everything and came here to fight in this stupid tournament." He was speaking for all of us. The last time I watched the show with my friends, they still didn't understand. It seems to be a betrayal of the setting itself of the series. Of the force that drives shonen forward. Of it's own premise (which is the transcendentalization of effort and working/fighting itself, but that's another huge topic for another day). Eventually Urameshi snaps out of it, and re-ignites himself long enough to actually offer an spectacle. Then the tournament ends without being shown on camera, even when there were a lot of fights to be fought. The hero wakes up in a hospital bed a couple of weeks after. Everyone was enraged by what they though was laziness from the author (and burnout, which it also was) but the fact was that: they didn't longer matter, the fights itself. 

However, now I understand it. In fact, now I don't see how it could have been any other way. 

That brief moment, in which he realizes he doesn't have a reason to fight wasn't just a cheap trick to elevate tension and offer a twist or a new obstacle came from nowhere for him to overcome. But instead, the culmination of dozens of chapters of storytelling.

The Show

1. Spirit Detective Saga.

Yusuke dies. After completing some trials accompanied by a waifu material version of Death, he is resurrected. He becomes an Spirit Detective, the setting is expanded. Has friend. Meets and becomes Genkai's apprentice. Realizes his is in much bigger shit he could had even imagined. Gets invited to tournament. Getting into it would mean to possibly irreversibly separate himself forever from his former world.

2. Dark Tournament Saga.

They go to tournament. Former enemies become friends. They win rounds learning valuable lessons. But the enemy is too much. In order to win, he needs to reach transcendental transformation (same goes for Kurama, and more or less Hiei). Enters a literal and metaphorical cave, where not his physical strength but also mental fortitude, spiritual will is put into test. Mentor dies as a result, to protect him. The finals follow. Additional sacrifice, apotheosis. Victory. They save the world, and also get rewarded with a wish.

3. Chapter Black Saga.

This one is hard. I will argue that this arc is not about the development of Yusuke but about Sensui (and Rubalkaba). Sensui acts like a villain, or anti-hero. But it's essentially Yusuke's shadow. A "what could have been" or "what could be". Things about the future of the main hero get hinted at, but he's not the focus (also he dies and resurrects, again). Sensui first acts like he has a plan and something to archive, and the cast tries to stop it. But eventually he himself reveals that he only wants to fight, and to eventually, die. He once was also an Spirit Detective, and too much fighting had lead him to become a killing machine. Fittingly, almost a third of the saga takes place in a cave.

4. Three Kings Saga.

Yusuke realizes he no longer fits in the human world. Sensui was right. There's nothing to fight at, there's nothing to fight for, no call for adventure but his own inability to conform. The transformation he once needed to overcome his enemies has made himself one of them. He goes back to the Infernal World, where there's conflict to be had and obstacles to overcome, because that's the only way he knows how to live now. The narrative drifts from him for a while, developing the journey's of his friends. Organizes a tournament. Imposes a tournament. Fights in it. Loses. Goes home.

You see what it's going on here?

It's the cycle! It's there! Step by step!

The mentor was the mentor, the call to adventure was a call to adventure, the supernatural aid was supernatural aid, the cave was a literal cave. If this doesn't blow your mind, I don't know what will. You can do the same with almost any work of fiction. Try it with Frodo, Aragorn, Luke, Elsa, Neo, Gilgamesh, Christ, Mohammed, Shrek.

Here, the last saga was actually "Act 3", not an "Act 2", where he has to surpass the obstacles. Him actually fighting non-stop and eventually winning the tournament: that would be actually the bad ending for the series. Such victory would resolve the Saga Hero's Journey, but fail the role that saga has in the major one. The resolution for Yusuke's superseding arc passes through him doing another fundamental transformation. Yet another death and resurrection that makes him a true "master of the two worlds". Which is what happens. Which is exactly what happens. Then and only then, can he come back and marry the girl, or whatever he has in mind. 

That moment, that strange moment where he doesn't want to fight anymore, is one of the most important moments in the series. His battle was against his own instrumentation as a simple killing machine that knows nothing else and battles for the sake of it alone. He was battling becoming Sensui, becoming Toguro. Not fighting the other guy. A battle the audience itself has already succumbed in without realizing they were a part of, claiming for war, having fully internalized conflict as an end in itself, and wanting more of it. 

I still remember the girl I watched the series with. "Why they don't just fight?"

Subversion

Not all stories dare venture into the unknown. A lot of them just have the hero defeat the villain and call it a day. Some try to complete the cycle, to subvert it, to nest in it, to explore inside of it with a lantern how the daring adventurer they are writing about would itself do. We subvert characters, heroism, mentorship, settings. But we never seem to break free from the attraction force of the cycle itself. Some try to look outside, only to find they are just perpetuating it in a bigger drawn paper. Some try to explore outside recognizing the circle itself as a lie and trying to draw a continuation. One Punch Man is an example of such subversion. Logan another one. "What happens when The Journey is over?" That's a good question to ask. Lots of people have tried. Tales of Symphonia and Golden Sun (and I'm sure others before) turned the former heroes into the new villains (before being a coward and reconciling them after the end because it was all a misunderstanding). But most of the time, these efforts to subvert it fall into the cycle itself, or are just "stories with a twist" that never seem to kind of work for themselves. Tolkien tried, in his moment, to draft a sequel to Lord of The Rings. But never could. Didn't see the point, even. The fundamental conflict had been resolved and he (being the master at The Journey that he is) couldn't see past it. 

And it's not the only question to ask. "Is the whole notion of "transformation" wrong?", "Is there ideology in the cycle itself?", "What if the hero fails?", "What assumptions have to be make for it to work?", "What would the journey of an Elf look like?", "How does it changes people?", "Does it create impossible narrative expectations about how life ought to be?". 

Because the journey is not only a sequencing and pattern of "happenings" but very much an emotional journey as much as a physical one. The structure and content of the cycle is fundamentally related to everything humans do and are, regardless if it was narrative who started human culture transformation or the other way around. From our systems of immediate incentives to the immaterial inevitability of death, it impacts everything. To imagine a different kind of journey, one should maybe first invent a new type of human. The cycle is so ingrained into us we sometimes can't even see it. How can you subvert something you don't even know it's here?

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” The two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”

David Foster Wallace

Yu-Yu Hakusho, like any other work of fiction, tackles some of those questions. But it also shies away from other ones. In the end, it's a series that ends, maybe fearing further dragonballization. It completes the circle, and does it well. We don't know the future of the character. We don't know if he still has the will to fight, if he can truly live in this old world of his, if he has something to give to it. At the end of the day, it's objective is to entertain, to make more money that what it takes to produce, not necessarily to solve meta-narrative existential problems that seemingly only matter to a handful of people in the world.

Conclusion

The Hero's Journey is everywhere, but it's existence is not the end of the world. We have to train ourselves to see beyond the medium, beyond established notions of storytelling, to identify what is good and what is the same. To know that what we're drawn into (the journey) to be able to break free from it if necessary. To subvert the limitations of the medium and not get lost into the superficial elements of what something out to be, or not to be.

But I refuse to watch Hunter X Hunter. It looks like for little kids.