A Brief Analysis of Re:Zero Episode 18

I was watching episode 18 of Re:Zero for the fourth or fifth time when it struck me that I really wanted to figure out why exactly this episode inspires so much emotion in me. Wanted to discuss any lessons that can be taken away for my own writing. Figured that it was worth noting down for future usage.

Note: as of the time of this writing, I have yet to read the LNs for this particular scene, though I intend to change that soon. As of right now, I’m speaking from the perspective of an anime-only fan.

There are a few things at work. First, there’s Subaru himself and how he was written. There’s also the episode length and how they give conversation nearly 18 minutes to breath, allowing for a really deep and intimate character study. There’s Rem, and how she becomes the most likable and beloved character in the show in one fell swoop. And finally, there’s particular timing of Re:Zero’s release and how it tapped into and carefully responded to the cultural zeitgeist of its time period.

I think the first thing that has to be figured out is who exactly Subaru is, and what’s the fundamental character flaw that drives the conflict of this scene? it might feel obvious at first glance, but it’s trickier to pin down than it seems.

To begin with, Subaru himself is a bit of a blank slate, and this is somewhat by design. The first episode doesn’t really explain his past, or his family background, or why he is the way he is. I think this is really important because of a specific line Subaru says: “I’m empty.”

To me, the background becomes recontextualized here not as a funny narrative coincidence but as an intentional choice. Subaru, for the purposes of this season (though not in the greater narrative) doesn’t have a past. He chooses not to have a past. He rejects his earlier life in favor of a new one. Why?

Because he hates himself, as he so put it.

He sees his isekai adventure as a chance to reinvent himself, and so the story obliges him. It chooses not to start with him at home, or with narration about how he got into his situation. No, it starts in the handful of minutes before he was isekai-d. Because to him, that’s when his life started. He knows that he wasted his time on earth. That he could’ve become something, but didn’t due to his “rotten character.”

The problem with this, of course, is that you can’t escape who you are at your core. Subaru is still the same person, deep down. Character flaws of the past are not going to suddenly disappear because he’s in another world–and that’s exactly what happens. Throughout the first season, his impulsiveness, his childishness, his laziness–each of these things are carried with him and express themselves at one point or another. This all comes to a head in arc 3, where he makes a fool out of himself at the royal selection, breaks his promise to Emilia, then fails spectacularly at rescuing her and the other mansion inhabitants from Sloth.

So this brings us to the big question, what exactly is Subaru’s fundamental flaw? What is it that drives him, that causes so many of these issues?

There are a few options. Ego is one idea, and he certainly seems to demonstrate something of this in his interactions. There are traces in the very first episode: think of his belief that he’s the “summoned hero,” further reinforced by Return by Death. Insecurity is another option. The conversation in episode 18 makes it abundantly clear that he detests himself for his weakness.

To some degree, all of these factors are working together to create the conflict engine that drives arc 3. There’s a little bit of an egomaniac in Subaru. There’s also someone who knows exactly how scummy he is and just puts on a front. This is good! Real people are like this. They’re not driven by just one personality trait or motivation. It’s almost always a combination of multiple things.

However, for the sake of a story, an author will typically choose to attack one central flaw or trait for the sake of clarity.

And in my case, personally, I would say that the core conflict and the problem Subaru needs to overcome is his desperate, overwhelming need for validation. I really think that every single one of his problems ultimately goes back to that particular flaw.

My biggest piece of evidence is the conversation with Emilia in the capital. As a last-ditch effort, he starts ranting and raving about how Emilia didn’t accomplish anything on her own, how she owes him an enormous amount, etc, etc. There’s been a lot written about that by other people–for me, the part I want to focus on is what exactly he was trying to accomplish via this tirade. Was he just trying to prop up his ego? Yeah, that was part of it. Was he trying to hide his insecurity, both from himself and from Emilia, by tearing her down? True.

But I think the biggest thing he was trying to do was keep her from leaving. His goal was to make her think she needed him, that he would be worthy of standing by her side. That was why he caused that huge storm in the capital in the first place. When his position became threatened, he lashed out, desperately trying to convince her that she should stick by him.

Sure, Subaru puts on a big show about being a hero, but I think that on some level, he always knew what kind of a person he was, deep down. Maybe not consciously at first, but at least subconsciously. Why else would he try to hard? Why is he so desperate? Why would he act so defensive when his status as “the hero” is under fire? Because he knows his position is tenuous, that the myth he’s created for himself doesn’t really exist. From the very beginning, throughout the entire show, he knows that he’s not “the hero” deep down. Even so, he sustains the lie, in part via Return by Death.

Either way, by the time of episode 18, any delusions Subaru has had of being a summoned hero have been completely put to rest. He’s completely given up, his spirit has been broken, and he just wants to run. Why, exactly? Is it because of his repeated deaths? Partially, but I actually think what’s really happening is that his worth as a person is completely tied up into the heroic image that he’s created. When that image collapses, he loses with it any will to fight. The worst symptoms of his flaw come out, creating a (though this feels harsh to say) coward.

It’s an interesting thing here to note that a lot of what I say above doesn’t come up directly–rather, the conversation mostly deals with the symptoms of his character flaw, not the character flaw itself. Rem is trying to convince Subaru to keep fighting, she’s not telling him “stop being so obsessed with external validation” or something. This is really interesting because anime typically has all the subtlety of a brick through a window, and this scene, at first glance, seems to be following that same pattern. If we take this analysis as true, however, then this highly sophisticated theme flies under the radar.

So that’s the first key to this scene. A well-developed main character going through hell. I think the second key to the scene is Rem herself.

Probably one of the most emotionally powerful moments lies not just at the end, but at the start. Rem, when explaining why she won’t run away with Subaru, talks about her dreams of the future. She goes so far as to talk about how she wishes she could have a child, how she wants to start a family with him.

I’m not sure what chokes me up so much about this specific moment. A bit of it is probably the fact that it slots into her character perfectly–of course the girl who lost her family would want to start a new one with the love of her life. In a strange way, it actually breaks her out of the criticism that she’s just an orbiter for Subaru. Subaru, in her dreams and fantasies of the future, is not the center. He’s filling a role–a role as a husband and father in Rem’s new family.

But she puts aside her personal dreams and ambitions, knowing that while this is what she wants, it’s not what Subaru needs.

What he needs in that moment is to have his value affirmed, for him to know that there are things he did that were legitimately good, and right–that he’s been a positive influence on those around him. That despite his flaws, someone still finds him admirable–even at his absolute worst, even when no one believes in him, even when he can’t believe in himself.

Yes, he’s not “the hero.” Not yet, anyway. But he is, at the very least, Rem’s hero.

The final ingredient is the relatability of the problem/the timing of the story’s release. Subaru was well-chosen at just the right time, as a protagonist. The 2010s was an era defined by, for lack of a better term, the beta male empowerment fantasy.

I think it’s broadly uncontroversial to say that for the past 100 years, the West has experienced a serious crisis of masculinity. You see traces of this even back to the rise of industrialization during the late 1800s, with writers concerned about increasing government involvement in the family sphere. With increasing urbanization and the way traditional male roles have been significantly reduced, it was kind of inevitable. Different generations have had different responses as the problem has grown. The 2010s (with its perfect storm of rpg-literate college grads post 2008, during the rise of smartphone gaming) chose to respond to this by trying to reframe being a geek as something masculine and valuable. The World God Only Knows features an MC who’s knowledge of dating sims is key to protecting humanity. Scott Pilgrim shows a geeky nerd as the hero rescuing the damsel (insofar as Ramona Flowers is a damsel), while Sword Art Online featured a shut-in with no friends becoming the savior of thousands via his gaming skills? Why do you think every single freaking isekai has a leveling system? Sure, part of it is because that’s just the trope and good writers reuse popular tropes. But then you have to ask why the trope is so popular. Simple: you’re a young man with skills that you’ve worked pretty hard for, only to find out that society doesn’t give a rat’s ass about it. You’re trying your best, but it feels like your best just isn’t enough according to the world. If you were in that situation, wouldn’t you want to be somewhere different? Somewhere where the skills that you actually like learning (RPG/video game mechanics) are considered in demand and valuable?

As such, these stories provide a fantasy wherein a young man’s “useless” talent suddenly becomes immensely useful. If you’re good at games, wouldn’t you want to be in a world where social prestige was based off how good you are at games? This is why SAO was such a cultural phenomenon. It perfectly tapped into the cultural zeitgeist of the time, providing a world where viewers could imagine themselves as Kirito, and it wouldn’t even be that big of a jump.

Then, with Re:Zero, you have something of a response to this fantasy in the form of Natsuki Subaru. Subaru’s victories, in the first season, are not earned via his knowledge of video games or pop culture. He’s weak, unimaginably so. When he tries to act like an Isekai hero, he’s slapped down for being arrogant and ridiculous. I think that viewers resonated with this more grounded take on the isekai hero, finding someone like Subaru to be more worthy of emulation and more achievable to become than someone like Kirito.

So in summary, there’s a lot of things at work in this scene, which is what you would expect. If I had to guess, I’d say that the final point is probably the lion’s share of the reason why this show was such a hit. Timing matters an immense amount in these sorts of things. But it’s hard to imagine this scene without the other things I pointed out. On the whole, a brilliant masterpiece of an episode, and my personal favorite (no, episode 15 isn’t the best episode in the show, shut up).