Well, I guess it's not too late to write this post. Recently, something happened. Miura Kentaro (11 July 1966-6 May 2021) passed away due to acute aortic dissection. If there's a storyteller I'd resonate with, it wouldn't be Kevin Kwan or Jack Neo. If there's a person of creativity close to my heart, it wouldn't be Amanda Gorman or J.K Rowling. Credit to whom it should be due, each of these names is a class act in his/her own right.
There is a dark beauty in Miura-sensei's iconic work. Before I continue, allow me to point out that whatever I know about Berserk came from the series wiki. As a result, I'm in no position to state the details. Ironically, this is proof of Miura-sensei's impact on my life as a storyteller. If your work is good enough to influence a fellow storyteller via the relevant series wiki rather than actual contact, it is a testimony of how epic your creation is. As for why I chose not to deal with the actual media itself, it's due to personal reasons.
Before I start rambling, allow me to up three songs. The first would always play whenever Guts start spilling... well, some guts. Actually, it's plenty of guts. The second is one of the OP songs in the latest rendition of the anime. The third? Basically, the story of Guts' life.
In this post, I'm going to try my best to write what the post title is meant to show. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how well I can pull this off. Ultimately, this is not about me but the impact Miura-sensei had on me.
How it all began
Having the memory of an elephant can be a blessing, curse, or both. I still remember the day I first knew about Berserk. As a secondary school student, I was hated without reason and persecuted without cause. It might have been my facial features which look weirdly Japanese (the jawline and eyes clearly don't look... well, Singaporean). This resulted in what I now call an existential crisis only to be mitigated by mental numbness. After all, there's only this much I could do when the educational system decided to sentence me to death. And all for what? Because I'm not good enough unlike one university student or the other. There was a period of time where I developed the habit of heading to Tiong Bahru Plaza. Be it in the video games arcade or Popular bookstore, I'd definitely be drifting about like a useless bum. Comics Connection happened to be one of them. I remember noticing the manga figurines being displayed. That was when and where I noticed the title below.
At first, I thought nothing of it. After all, my state of curiosity was at where the national standard wanted it to be: Six feet underground. My years at ITE didn't fare much better. In fact, I can still remember the name of that one person whom I hated most in ITE Dover back then. It's not because he's the worst person in my life dictated by schoolyard democracy. Rather, something snapped. There's only this much emotional abuse one can endure before Buck went from dog to wolf.
It was also during this period of time when a classmate actually sat down and chatted with me at the staircase. Clearly, I forgot how that particular small talk session happened. But I do remember some things being talked about. Two of them were Dogma and South Park, titles understandably banned (seriously, just because people are capable of being unreasonable doesn't make me unreasonable). Then there's Berserk.
Fast forward to the day I started writing fiction and I realised it was more of the same existential crisis stuff. I thought I knew what I wanted, but my father said I was doing something that has no future for me. I hated that. I really did. Not that I hated my father but I hated what he said. But I bottled it. So much so that not only did I lose the normal human being's ability to socialise, I also lost the emotional capacity to trust people.
Miura Kentaro: An accidental foreign interference Singapore couldn't do a thing about
It's weird when I look back at it. When I decided to write A Requiem From Winter Past (back then, it was entitled A Ranger's Tale until I realised someone took that title), the inspiration was from Saiyuki by Minekura Kazuya. Originally, I intended to create Aeravor (i.e. Aeranath back then until I realised J.R.R Tolkien arrived at that name far earlier than I did) as another Genjo Sanzou.
As time progressed, I noticed a scary fact: The work had gone from the typical high epic fantasy I intended to something closer to the pre-flood era of Enoch and Noah. This was the very same life I had to endure, the very same social Darwinism condemning me to the gallows. It was also during that period I discovered two things:
1. I was being lied to. Originally, I had no problem calling myself a Singaporean. Now, it's just apathy towards my nation with an emotional trigger towards my nation's educational system.
2. The plot and characters of Berserk.
Because society failed to cremate my curiosity, it became a weapon of vengeance. The impact of Berserk floored me, the genius of Miura-sensei spoke to me. When I came into contact with the plot, the storyteller in me said, "There is a connection and you know it. It is an accident, but the connection is nevertheless real. You know it".
As for the character of Guts, he was the first of the numerous. Before I read up on him, I never associated myself with fictional characters. Guts came in and used his Dragonslayer to destroy the walls erected by the standards of society. An actual fortress built and fortified for many years only for something fictional to smash it to smithereens. Believe it or not, part of me hopes for the day my life would make a mockery out of what is seen as useful. I don't care about hatred, I only desire justice. As a result, I learnt the value of seeing myself in fictional characters. Names like Emiya Kiritsugu (Fate/Zero), Thorfinn (Vinland Saga). and Goblin Slayer (Goblin Slayer). They are not real, but they nevertheless spoke to me. If they are humane, that's because the ones creating them are human beings.
As Guts... he's truly and clearly humane.
In him, I saw a struggler. That struggler is me.
In him, I saw a man betrayed. That victim of betrayal happened to be me as well.
In him, I saw a human being living out his dignity because the world only sees him as a person with the dignity of an animal. I retained the dignity of a human being because I know to survive only is the dignity of a mere animal.
Miura-sensei would never see the day he realised an accidental act of good was done by him. Even if he was to be still alive, I guess he wouldn't notice it. Today, I now have the ability to laugh. To laugh at the darkness of reality and the fact that there's something Shakespearean about the world we're in, be things like The Merchant of Venice or King Lear. My Christian faith gave me the understanding of the eternal, but from whence did the mirth hail? I don't know. However, I wouldn't be surprised if Berserk managed to trigger something in me, a feat not even the likes of Crazy Rich Asians and Ah Boys To Men could do.
Interestingly, Guts having his own companions after the trauma caused by the Eclipse ended up telling me something: No matter how far you ventured forward alone, one cannot keep on going by himself. This is the reason why I namedropped people like Pastor T and Mr Lee. They're actual human beings in my church. The same goes for Ryan, Ah-Hean, Frontline Bro, Ms Tang, and Claudia.
If I cannot process the importance of friendship through emotions, I will do it via cold hard logic.
Legacy: The Man Who Created A Monstrous Sword
Miura-sensei's legacy cannot and should not be understated. Recently, Isayama Hajime finished the story of Attack on Titan. At the same time, I discovered that Ishida Sui had finished Tokyo Ghoul. While I can understand why the ending of the former was unable to satisfy the entire fanbase (apparently, the final volume isn't going to do just that), I was left wondering whether this would have been how Berserk may end if Miura-sensei never passed away. Berserk as a story isn't too dissimilar from Attack on Titan in the sense of the world the characters were in (i.e. the characters do make sense, just that the world they're in was the polar opposite). Personally, while I find it understandable for part of the fanbase to see a bittersweet ending as unsatisfactory, it also reflected the world we're dealing with. Would Casca be able to relive her life at the cost of Guts' life? If not, would it end up in the scenario where the Moonlight Boy has to sacrifice himself? That's assuming he's actually Guts' and Casca's kid. What if Casca was able to live a decent life at the expense of her memories despite Guts prevailing and surviving?
My point is this: Would there be works like Attack on Titan if there's no Berserk?
The incompletion of Berserk is regrettable. But I also find it fitting to allow other works of Japanese dark fantasy to be seen as an extension of what Miura-sensei had done all the while. This comes to mind a vital question: How many potential mangakas would be inspired in a way which they can prove Miura Kentaro wasn't just about Berserk?
In Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, the titular genius ended up creating a monster he couldn't tame. Interviews with Miura-sensei actually hinted at what I'd call the Frankenstein dilemma. On one hand, the monster created was proof of individual genius. On the other, the inability to tame it is twisted evidence of ingenuity. This can be another way for us to appreciate him.
As for me, A Requiem From Winter Past first began as an accident so as to speak. As I progressed, I started to attempt incorporating certain elements of Berserk. The latest chapter was proof of what I said. I used to joke I ended up creating another Berserk. Now, I doubt I can go back to this statement of jest. I used to see Aeravor as my own version of Guts to a certain extent. It's a horribly dumb mistake. While I'm currently stuck due to MMO gaming biting off a large chunk of my focus and time, I don't think I can forget the influence of Miura-sensei himself, no matter whether the procrastination would last for good.
Neil Gaiman spoke the truth, I am evidence of the truth, and Miura Kentaro proved the truth.
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