In such a great story, to pick the greatest moment so swiftly is bound to be wrong. Then again, in such a great story, to pick any given moment as its greatest is always a safe bet. I'll pick this moment now but tomorrow I might give you five different ones. That is because this story in particular, what with all its monsters and the sheer violence they go around inflicting, it seems to me actually has its greatest moments in the details, in the quiet times, quiet but not necessarily peaceful, because there's still a whole lot of torment going on within the characters' spirits. For example, you have young Guts looking over the bonfire of dreams, you have Captain of the Raiders Guts defeating Griffith and walking away to forge his own path, you have Black Swordsman Gus inspiring Farnese to pick up a sword with which to fight off monsters in the night, and so on. Most of those great moments would include Guts of course, but it is a testament to Kentarō Miura's genius that one of his most brilliant moments leaves his main character a little bit on the sidelines, especially in order to give the spotlight to characters that had only recently been introduced. But that is all a bit too specific for these purposes because the main reason why this sacrifice is emblematic of all of Berserk, at least to me, is because it cuts through the superficial, the outer shell of all these warriors and monsters, and it goes right to the only question that is ever worth asking when things reach their inevitable end – Was it worth it?
The moment in question comes at the end of chapter 229 entitled Departure of Flame. In this arc the gang meets Schierke, a forest witch, and her mistress, Flora. Schierke is reluctantly made to accompany Guts and the gang on their quest, thereby making her a temporary companion, but upon returning we find that her home is no longer safe, with a horde of monsters attacking it and setting it ablaze. Guts fights them off the best he can with his unwavering resolve, and even acquires the Berserker Armor with which to destroy them even further, giving all of these monsters a taste of what it means to be human, something that they forgot a long time ago. Still, it's not quite enough, and even Guts is no match for a horde of apostles in their final form. And so Flora decides to reveal her true power, changing from a frail old lady into a beautiful spirit, creating a wall of fire that burns without consuming, and opening a little window of time to allow our heroes to escape, now with their witch apprentice as a permanent companion. But Flora doesn't just buy them time to escape, she also buys herself some time to say goodbye to Schierke.
“You have done well, Schierke. Now go. This forest will not last much longer.”
In typical Berserk fashion, actions always have dire consequences. Guts with the Berserker Armor isn't enough, and even Flora's sacrifice isn't, at least not enough to win against an army of monsters. They may have a little time to escape but the forest is still done for. So the student has completed her final challenge and henceforth she has nothing more to learn under the safety of her mistress, now she has to venture out into the world because otherwise she won't grow, she won't learn, and she won't even have a chance to apply what she has learned already. The forest has always been Schierke's home, her safe haven in a dangerous world, but its time is now at an end. And as Flora's body burns so does the forest all around her, the only home her dear student has ever known. Or then, to steal from Brianna Barksdale of all people, ain't nothing last forever.
“However pleasant the sunshine, the young must not dwell here forever.”
They say that youth is wasted on the young and maybe they're right about that. Or maybe it's just that there's no such thing as truly making the best out of youth. Everyone always feels like they could have done so much more, everyone always feels that they wasted so much time, that they would have done so many things so differently if they could go back, even if just for a day. Maybe Flora herself thinks a little bit like that, seeing as she's a character whose mystery and aura of wisdom are far more deep than any needless backstory could provide. There's almost a hint of sadness in her words, or at least that's how I read them, almost as if she is also reluctant about sending her student out into the world but she still knows it must be done, it is simply the way things are. And you can almost sense a bit of nostalgia for her own journey, for a time when she too was a young student who went out on her own quest. But now she's old and needs to let go of her little bird.
“The time has come to leave the nest. Go forth from here and find your own path... my dearest student.”
The laws of causality have determined this to be their final moment. Flora accepts this, with the stoicism that is typical of her character, and of seemingly all wise characters, both in the real world, in fiction, and everywhere in between. The nest is no longer safe, Schierke must leave it, and having learned all that she could, now she can only go away in the only direction there is – forth. In doing so she's told to do the thing on which all of Berserk is built, she's told to find her own path, just like Guts did before and continues to do so now, thereby exemplifying this very universal thing as the core of the story. Because it's not really about the cool monsters and the massive world-building and the violence and the lore. At the end of the day, Miura's masterpiece is about struggling on and on and on, it's about forging your own path and going wherever it takes you, which doesn't necessarily mean you will succeed and achieve all your dreams and be happy forever and ever... but it does mean you will try because the only truly wrong answer would be to give up.
“Whether you grasp the fate before you is up to you.”
This mistress is a realist, and yes, it's all up to Schierke now. Flora can only hope she taught her student well enough, which she seems to have done. Regardless, she can no longer stay there, the death of the master therefore being such a universal moment in fiction because it's such a universal moment in real life. A day will come when you'll be on your own because that day always has to come, it is built into the rules of the game because in order for you to exist someone else had to step aside when their time was up. And so your master will one day do that for you, and you will do it for your student, and your student will do it for his or her student, and so on. Now comes Flora's time to step aside because it's Schierke's time to go forth, either simply going along with causality, as young Guts did, or grabbing causality by the horns and twisting it, as old man Guts does. Either way, now there's no more hand-holding, now truly is the moment of the goodbye. They may see each other in the future one way or another, in dreams and magic and memory, but death really is something, even if resurrection is true. After all, Jesus himself wept for Lazarus, even moments before resurrecting him... Flora doesn't seem to weep but she does feel that bittersweet sensation of saying goodbye to her beloved student. Schierke, however, weeps uncontrollably, revealing herself to be a child regardless of her power. And power is what it's all about, because while all this is going on, on the other side of Flora's fire there's still an army of monsters, or rather an army of men who chose to kill their own humanity so as to become monsters. Even Grunbeld is shocked that he himself, a mighty fire dragon, cannot control and manipulate Flora's fire, seemingly dumbfounded and helpless at the tender moment happening on the other side. And yet, to Schierke it's not tender at all, it's probably the worst day of her life. That being the case it would almost be better to never have experienced it at all, to never have met Flora to begin with...
“May your going forth be blessed... sweet, beloved child.”
The entire story of Berserk, and the answer to my previous question, is always a permanent and resounding and naive and stubborn and rude and brash and undying yes. Yes, yes, yes, it was worth it, and if I could go back in time knowing what I know now, knowing how it would end, I would still have gone through it all over again... Because the monsters on the other side of that fire, they were all faced with a similar situation, a death, a betrayal, a great loss, and it hurt them so bad that they wished it all away, they killed their own humanity and became monsters so as to never again experience such a thing. But it made them never again experience anything at all because the permanent gambit of all life is that great heights precede a great fall. In other words, to live with your mistress in a peaceful forest for all the years of your life inevitably entails one day saying goodbye. And if saying goodbye hurts so much then doesn't simple arithmetic dictate that you were better off never meeting her in the first place, never being there in the first place, never living and loving in the first place?
Berserk says no to this question, it says that it is indeed always worth it, if anything as a perpetual fuck-you to death. Because even if death and suffering are inevitable, even if causality always has her way in the end, it is still true that we can't and shouldn't go gentle into that good night, it is still true that until it's lights out we will insist on having a great time, it is still true that even if all beginnings are uncertain and all endings are inevitable, we will still make the middle into a great story... And all those monsters on the other side of the fire, sure, they are now made in such a way that a goodbye like that, the pain that Schierke is now experiencing, maybe they'll never experience such a thing anymore, maybe it's all a bit of fun for them from now on. But then again, to never truly experience the love that preceded that pain, to never again come close to it, to never again remember the good times? What a waste, what a tragedy... Maybe it's not youth that is wasted, but love. And for this reason maybe we should see love like a fire, a fire that can be destructive, all-consuming and wild and maybe even ugly, but it can also be warm and calm and soothing. Maybe a bit of both is necessary, maybe a bit of both comes to us all at one time or another, but maybe the worst thing of all would be a great big nothing, it would be to never have experienced that fire at all.
I myself would be lying if I said that I live by any of this, I'd be lying so much it ain't even funny... I have Griffith'ed more precious time and more sweet chances than I care to count or even remember. All I know is that if there's one thing to take from Miura's story it is precisely this, that to give up is the only great loss, and maybe that a victory is worth far more to us than a loss is worth to causality, and that even a draw is worth far more to us than we might realize. It's as though the arithmetic doesn't quite add up... And in all these attempts and even in all these failures, in all these things I'd wager that to give up is the only true insult to Miura's masterpiece. Because as long as there are people there is Berserk, and our struggle doesn't have to be with swords and magic and monsters, it is instead with whatever you want to do to find your place in this world and hopefully make it a little better. But that's up to you, I suppose, and so whatever you must do to get on that path, do it quickly.
Until then, or even until the next time I don't feel so inspired, I wish upon whoever reads this a sincere thank you. I wish I could wish for more, like an undying love for all of humanity, but I myself don't have that. So I might as well offer something else I don't have – advice. Because in your life you will say hello and goodbye to many people, but make damn sure that on that dying day you make your last goodbye count.
“Farewell... my sunshine.”
And smile.
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