COVID-19 lockdown diary: How anime helped me cope off-screen

The year so far has forced me to confront a triple whammy: the anxiety-inducing, life-altering pandemic that failed to elicit an effective and efficient government response; the politically-motivated non-renewal of ABS-CBN’s network franchise, which led me and thousands of others to lose our dream jobs at a time when the global health crisis led to economic troubles and a spike in unemployment rates; and, lastly, the failing health of my biological father. The result? Occasional lethargy that’s just way more often than I want.

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs provides a framework on why a productivity slump is not only understandable but also inevitable under present circumstances.

The coronavirus lockdown, still ongoing since March in our part of the world, challenges our notions of security and safety and leaves an invisible barrier on our relationships. The retrenchment not only threatens my financial independence and ability to pay for my basic needs but also disrupts my own self-regard. And I don’t even have the energy to think about my father’s health situation and the subsequent worries of my mother overseas.

One of the few (re-)discoveries that offered me comfort in these trying times was watching anime.

Here’s a story I often tell about my childhood: While my peers enjoyed Taiwanese drama Meteor Garden and anime series Cardcaptor Sakura and Fruits Basket, the shows I’ve always looked forward to on the telly were documentaries Probe, I-witness, The Correspondents, and Kasangga (with Rudy “Daboy” Fernandez).

Both my older and younger sisters were, and still are, anime fans. While I was never as hooked with Japanese cartoons as they are, I enjoyed following the tournaments of Eugene in Yu Yu Hakusho (Ghost Fighter), Recca in Flame of Recca, and Ippo Makunouchi in Hajime no Ippo in my childhood. I rooted for Hikaru Shidou in Magic Knight Rayearth and envied the long, silky hair of Mars in Sailor Moon. I raised both my hands when Dragon Ball’s Son Goku called for energy support for his Supersaiyan kamehame wave, and, to this day, I’m anxiously waiting for a fitting end to Detective Conan (Case Closed). But all these were short-lived affairs. As soon as my school service arrived in the morning or my afternoon merienda was over, my delight for the shows would dissipate, too. The only exception was Fushigi Yuugi, whose elaborate world-building endeared me to it. It’s the only anime I’ve rewatched — more than twice at that — and whose manga version I read in its entirety and whose soundtrack made up my music playlist in my adolescent years.

I only began seeing anime as more than kids’ entertainment in my mid-twenties. Samurai X, or Rurouni Kenshin, presented a historical and cultural narrative of Japan that piqued my interest, and Avatar: The Legend of Aang (The Last Airbender) — technically not an anime but was inspired by anime — proved that children’s shows can be a platform to discuss social and moral issues.

With the free time the lockdown accorded me, I managed to catch up on a few anime series that had long been suggested to me.

First, Hunter x Hunter. An old friend was a fan, and I never understood why until recently. I faintly remember details of the series from childhood — the main characters Gon, Killua, and Kurapika (I totally forgot the existence of a fourth guy in their group, Leorio) and their search for Gon’s elusive father. That an 11-year-old boy would go to the ends of the earth, get beaten, and risk his life to meet his father didn’t sit well with me at the time.

Perhaps with age comes a stronger capability to suspend disbelief and separate fact from fiction. The first season of Hunter x Hunter (2011) that followed the protagonists’ Hunter examinations was an easy watch, inspiring resilience and grit in the face of challenges. But the more I watched the series, the deeper the narrative dove.


^ A flashback scene to Hunter Association chairman Netero’s training and meditation in the mountains

The chimera ant arc to me offered the best storyline in anime history. The characters were pushed to their limits, and the underlying conflict of survival between the ever-evolving chimera ants and the self-acclaimed superior human race wasn’t depicted merely as black and white, or a fight between good and evil. That’s a refreshing insight when there are far too many stories about one-sided heroes and villains.

Further reading:

Killua Zoldyck, the series’ deuteragonist, was a masterpiece of a character. Physically and mentally tortured from childhood as part of his assassin family’s strict training, Killua looked to others, Gon especially, for light. By the end of the series, he became his own person and shone hope to others.

His character development is a reminder that the past defines only one aspect of a life and that personal history can be transcended. Who you are and who you will become depend on the decisions you make and the actions you take today.


^ Screenshot from the episode where the Phatom Troupe defended
Meteor City against chimera ants

Another detail from Hunter x Hunter that awed me was the music. Nearly every character has a score attached to him or her, in Wagnerian opera leitmotif fashion, and most of the soundtracks were inspired by classical pieces. I am unable to identify all the classical music influences but these are the few that stood out:


Also worth mentioning: Killua’s theme, aptly titled Silver-haired Boy (embedded above), and Shaiapouf’s violin pieces were great musical wonders on their own.

Second, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood. An earlier version of the series that deviated from the manga it overtook aired during my childhood. I wasn’t even curious about it then; I easily dismissed the series as too masculine for my taste.

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood (2010), which is a more faithful adaptation of the manga, had been on my Netflix list for as long as I can remember because while I knew only the story’s premise — that the Elric brothers lost part of their bodies to a botched alchemy attempt to bring back their dead mother — I was aware that it had riveting reviews in the anime community.

The great thing about Fullmetal is its richness in literary devices. The symbols and names used were backed by solid research (many fans are passionate about deciphering these details). The homunculi or human-like beings powered by philosopher’s stones, for example, were named after the seven deadly sins, and their deaths were laden with irony and Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy influence. As well, every plot twist served a bigger purpose in the latter parts of the series. (The first episode alone was littered with foreshadowing!)

Grounded on the human impact of war, the Fullmetal narrative touches on the inner workings of the government and the military, e.g. the political pandering of high-ranking officials contrasting with a pervading sense of guilt among military officers who were on the battlefield during the Ishvalan war, then trickles down to the plight of ordinary individuals who, in their search for a way forward, clung on to a vow of vengeance or a fallible faith.


Philosophical queries on knowledge and truth, morality and mortality, and humanity and personhood underpinning the plot further cemented the franchise’s genius of storytelling.

I also enjoyed the game of strategy between Fuhrer King Bradley and Colonel Roy Mustang. This may perhaps be because watching the series came on the heels of my finishing Sun Tzu’s The Art of War and learning chess (thanks, Dr. Wolf). The push-and-pull dynamics among key political figures in the story taught me that purpose, without strategy, can only get you so far.

Likewise, as Fullmetal is set in a dismal period, much like where we find ourselves today, it is worth noting that the battle of alchemists against the homunculi brought forth these insights on what makes human, human: the value we put in out relationships, getting support from one another which makes us collectively strong, and the audacity to not give up the fight even if the odds are against us.

And, of course, there’s the Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye ship. (This is one of my favorite Royai scenes!)

I’d go so far as to say Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood is the best anime ever written. It deserves multiple revisits, in both the dubbed and subtitled versions, as every consumption calls for attention to detail. It’s art. You will always find something new that wasn’t there, or was overlooked, previously.

Third, Haikyuu!! (Yes, the title’s written with double exclamation points.) Upon my sister’s prodding, I gave the pilot episode of this volleyball-themed anime a try. Funny thing is, I thumbed down the series on Netflix without even having watched it yet to stop the influx of anime recommendations on my homepage. I nearly dozed off in the first half of the episode but was entertained toward the second half. I ended up binge-watching and finishing all the episodes so far within two days, just in time for the release of newer episodes.

While I was never athletic, Haikyuu!! has claimed its soft spot because I knew from my physical education classes the rules of the sport; I was an unwilling sportswriter in high school, forced to familiarize myself with the terms and the playbook, whose predecessor not only reached the national press conference but was also a star volleyball player in our school; and I was compelled, albeit briefly, to “train” in volleyball in fifth grade because our class needed female players for the intersection games.

Unlike other sports-themed anime — not that I’m an expert on this but only as far as I know, which isn’t much — Haikyuu!! focused on the motivations, dedication, and growth of its characters. I delight in the back stories of even the minor characters, such as how left-handed ace spiker Wakatoshi Ushijima was not corrected for his quirk as a kid because his father, an athlete, thought this would later be his advantage; and how Tadashi Yamaguchi, the only Karasuno High freshman who didn’t make it in the team’s regular line-up, trained to do a float serve that only he can do in the group. These details humanize the competition on which the narrative of any sports-related anime centers.

Even the manner by which the characters are motivated are varied. Protagonist Shoyo Hinata had no ample training and foundation when he made it to the Karasuno High’s starting line, yet his passion for the sport drives him to be better as he faces stronger opponents. Meanwhile, Toru Oikawa, already distinguished for his skills as a setter, still wrestles with self-doubt and the “curse of the ordinary”, thinking he may never be as good as his counterpart, prodigy Tobio Kageyama. I’ve lost count of the number of times I cried while watching the series because a character’s circumstance or a line hit too close to home, but Oikawa’s story reminded me of a hard lesson: “Talent is something you make bloom.” Talent has to work hard.

For a while, I guilt-tripped myself for the opportunity costs that came with the hours I had spent on anime since the lockdown, but in the face of personal adversities, anime taught me to keep looking up. I’ve become more motivated in my goals, making great progress in tidying my space and in starting a fitness activity; more conscious of storytelling methods, especially when reading fiction novels; and more accepting of my weaknesses as a motivator for growth. I am carrying the tenor of these series off the screen, and, honestly, that’s more than I could ask for. •