 |
| Tsukasa to the left. |
An overriding trait of nearly all narrators in yaoi--who are, with few exceptions, ukes--is their phlegm and self-analysis. They endure a great many things from S&M to the loss of fingers (in yakuza-focused plots) to kidnappings. Sometimes they fight back; sometimes, they keep going. They nearly always retain their love and affection for the seme.
This fortitude differs from the passive elements I defined in the prior post. What makes Tsukasa, for instance, so atypical is not his endurance. Endurance, or ganbaru, is a common element to all manga and works remarkably well in romance--the role of the doubtful romantic may be uncomfortable but ultimately the point is to persist. More often than not, such persistence will culminate in the confession or kokuhaku (告白). (Caged Slave does include Tsukasa's kokuhaku, one of the most powerful parts of the book.) Protagonists may decide not to act, but deciding not to act is a world of difference from not deciding at all.
What makes Tsukasa different from other ukes is his reluctance to analyze his situation. Yaoi and shojo and light novels are brimful of analysis and inner reflection. It's a self-critical paradise! And quite reminiscent of Austen novels but since Tale of Genji is so much older, it will have to be credited first.
 |
| I don't greatly care for An Kanae's |
| illustrations, so I replaced it with |
| one of Yugi Yamada's--hey, guys in suits! |
Without the usual extensive inner self-analysis, Tsukasa comes across as somewhat absent: a prize to be won rather than a character with whom to negotiate. When Konishi, the bad guy and prior abusive lover, confronts Tsukasa in the breakroom, he taunts Tsukasa, claiming that his relationship with Takeshima, seme protagonist, is temporary. Tsukasa is instantly floored by self-doubt and breaks down.
Yeah, not the behavior of a self-respecting romantic.
Not that self-doubt isn't common to yaoi and shojo protagonists (see the Doubtful Romantic), but Tsukasa's utter dismay struck me as highly unlikely. Instead of collapsing in the face of that particular taunt, I rewrote the passage to have Tsukasa realize that if Konishi now suspects a relationship between Tsukasa and Takeshima, continuing their relationship will expose Takeshima to Konishi's vile rumor-mill. He should give Takeshima up for the sake of the other man's job.
Everyone in yaoi and shojo does this. Everyone. Sacrifice is the name of the game.
Fan Addition:
Tsukasa glared. He didn’t need a jerk like Konishi to tell him the obvious. His pride in Takeshima’s success--his pride in his contributions to that success--was separate from the inevitable result. Tsukasa was tired of being the clueless guy who never saw the obvious coming. He knew this relationship would end. He didn't need Konishi to point it out.There is a rescue--there's always a rescue. (I confess my favorite is still Asami's "rescue" of Akihito in Finder. Instead of begin grateful, Akihito bawls him out for not coming sooner.)
“Bet you let him take you.”
Konishi was throwing out loose gossip—he was always dropping salacious hints about the female secretaries, his co-directors, the president.
What did I ever see in this guy?
Of course, the gossip in this case was accurate—which meant Tsukasa’s relationship with Takeshima would have to end. Tsukasa couldn’t expose Takeshima to crass innuendo and the accompanying fall-out. Tsukasa had heard far too many stories of business executives self-imploding due to whisper campaigns.
Being found out would have happened someday. Tsukasa tapped down an engulfing rage that Konishi would be the one to end everything. You never cared what happened to me. Why couldn't you continue on your self-absorbed path?
“Beat it,” he said and looked past Konishi as if the man was an insignificant intrusion.
Konishi neared Tsukasa, tongue circling his lips. “You know I did what was necessary to make Erina think I actually wanted her. Once that blowhard Takeshima is gone, I’ll transfer you back to my division, and you can be mine again. I’ll treat you well.”
Tsukasa flinched and retreated, hitting the counter. He must have looked his disgust because Konishi’s brows creased in disbelief, then—
“You are--! With him--! You don’t seem his type.”
He clutched at Tsukasa. Tsukasa twisted, caught against the counter, still holding the cups.
“Let me go!”
The coffee cups shattered on the floor. Tsukasa pushed against Konishi’s bulk, mind whirling.
If anyone should see us—Takeshima’s reputation—what will Konishi tell them—?
“What are you doing?” came an angry roar.
Takeshima heard Konishi and Tsukasa as he left the elevator. He paused—he had anticipated finding Tsukasa alone, perhaps talking to him about their future.
He heard Konishi’s invitation, and his heart dropped. Tsukasa looked so above-it-all; Takeshima had assumed he was not the type to sleep around. His utter abandonment with Takeshima was a fluke or—said Takeshima’s ego—a product of their unique relationship.
Except now he was learning that Tsukasa had slept with a co-worker before him—another director in fact. In the break room, Tsukasa wasn’t protesting, wasn’t saying anything at all.
And then Tsukasa’s outraged voice broke over Konishi’s leers:
“Get off!”
China broke. Takeshima moved.
