Two children run through the woods, with the older boy carrying the younger on his back. The danger they flee is unknown, and soon they tumble and fall down a small cliff. At the foot of the mountain, an endless forest filled with blue fires stretches below. A raven perches on a branch, and as he takes flight towards the two boys, the older one, Yukiya, notices its gleaming golden plumage.
The scene changes.
Four young women kneel in front of a bamboo screen. They are the daughters of the kingdom’s four lords, and they’re here to take part in the Rite of Ascension, where only one of them will be chosen to marry the crown prince. The woman behind the screen speaks, then. “Asebi,” she says to one of the women before her. The Empress has just bestowed the daughter of the eastern lord with a new name; a name which refers to a truly intoxicating flower. This is how Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master begins.
There are several reasons as to why this may be. Both Dungeon Meshi and Frieren were adaptations of wildly popular manga, while The Apothecary Diaries’ light novels were some of the most loved in the genre, and all had avid fanbases in both Japan and abroad. Yatagarasu, meanwhile, was preceded by a series of light novels that saw some modest domestic success, but had never been translated to English. As a result, the fans eagerly awaiting the anime were few and far between.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call this show a masterpiece. The story develops inside Yamauchi, a world where people can shapeshift into giant ravens. The country is split into four parts, with different lords reigning over the North, South, East, and West. A single king, called a Kinu, rules over them all. As previously unknown enemies spring up from the shadows, an epic political battle for the sake of Yamauchi unfolds. Released during the Spring 2024 anime season, its first episode came out only weeks after the ending of Dungeon Meshi, The Apothecary Diaries, and Frieren’s first seasons. However, despite being a show that, in my opinion, easily competes with the other three, Yatagarasu fell behind in viewership and remains a hidden gem to this day.
The general tone of the show might’ve also been a deterrent. Like The Apothecary Diaries, Yatagarasu is a slow burning court-drama characterized by the heavy use of foreshadowing that sets up future mysteries. However, while The Apothecary Diaries intersperses its more comedic moments throughout its delicate handling of serious issues, Yatagarasu is more serious from the start, setting up an atmosphere that’s far more sinister. It’s a show far more focused on the dramatic elements of its storytelling, with long cinematic shots and a sobriety in tone not very common in anime. It almost reminds me more of an HBO show. Why, then, would I so strongly recommend Yatagarasu to fans of The Apothecary Diaries if they differ in tone? The answer lies in the viewing experience.
At their core, both shows are court dramas. Maomao, the main character of The Apothecary Diaries, is a reluctant member of the emperor’s inner court through her role as a palace maid. She struggles to keep away from the political conflicts within the imperial court out of fear for her own safety, but her good heart and the troublesome eunuch Jishi, who has become obsessed with her, keep dragging her into all sorts of plots and schemes she’d rather stay away from. If you’re familiar with the show, you’re well aware that its plot is driven by prince-murdering schemes, hidden identities, and the machinations of people both inside and outside the court.
Yatagarasu has all these elements and more. The two main characters, Asebi and Yukiya, are each involved with the crown prince in one way or another. Asebi is the naive second daughter of the eastern lord who was raised to live a simple life before she suddenly became a last-minute candidate for crown princess after her elder sister developed a sudden illness. Meanwhile, Yukiya is the son of the chief of some irrelevant northern village, who agrees to become the crown prince’s servant to protect his family. Through no fault of their own, both will have to fight to survive the ruthless imperial court, although from very different positions.
Asebi, sequestered first in her father’s estate and then in the inner court, knows nothing of the outside world. She grew up sickly and isolated, and even the sight of an attendant shapeshifting is enough to terrify her. Two of the other women she’s competing against to win the prince’s love look down on her, and even go as far as to bully her for what they perceive to be her bumpkin-like temperament. How can a girl who knows nothing of etiquette, or needlework, or any of the skills required to be a lady possibly compete against the daughters that have been born and raised for the task?
However, Asebi is not alone. Princess Fujinami, after having stayed with Asebi’s family several years ago, is delighted by the idea of the kind-hearted and gentle Asebi becoming her sister-in-law. Ukogi, who had been her mother’s attendant back when she competed to be the crown princess, now also helps Asebi to catch up to the other three’s knowledge. Hamayu, the daughter sent by the Southern family, is also kind to Asebi, and she develops a soft spot for the girl’s naivety that’s so unlike her own cynical world-view.
Asebi is determined to win the heart of the crown prince, who she fell in love with long ago. However, as the days go by, one thing becomes clear: Prince Wakamiya will not come. As the four women and their attendants become more and more desperate, the Prince’s words become a sharp reminder: a worthy crown princess is not the most beautiful or the kindest, but the most resilient, manipulative, and politically savvy amongst them. The real test will be who can survive the trials ahead. Poor, innocent Asebi, whose nature has doomed her to have her heart broken!
The other main character, Yukiya, is the useless son of the head of a small northern village. He spends his days lazing around and pretending he can’t fight, as his biggest wish in life is to see his two brothers succeed. Yukiya doesn’t mind being thought of as incompetent, as long as he doesn’t pose a threat to his half-siblings’ positions as the rightful heirs to their family seat. He’s happy with his small life in Taruhi village, and confident in the fact that his life will be an easy one.
After offending a so-called “court raven” — a noble who lives in the imperial city — Yukiya is taken away to serve as the crown prince’s servant boy for the next few months. However, this is a job few last in, as those who don’t leave quickly enough tend to meet a worse fate. After meeting Prince Wakamiya, Yukiya quickly realizes that the seemingly perfect prince is actually embroiled in a behind-the-scenes battle for the throne. Natsuka, Wakamiya’s older brother, was supposed to be the heir to the crown, but before he could be named crown prince, he renounced his claim to the throne and joined a monastery, where he is now a monk who seems uninterested in reclaiming his position as crown prince. However, the Empress, who is Natsuka’s mother, is waging a secret war against Wakamiya, and Natsuka’s allies are doing everything possible to undermine the current crown prince.
To return to Taruhi, Yukiya will have to find a way to survive the dangerous world of imperial politics while also dealing with his cruel and unscrutable master. Along the way, he’ll have to uncover the mysteries that surround Wakamiya and the court in order to save Yamauchi from an existential threat. And, at the end of the journey, will he truly be able to leave the master he did not choose?
While maybe not quite as charming as Maomao (which, to be fair, is a very, very high bar), the two main characters of Yatagarasu are both very compelling in their own rights, and they serve as wonderful point-of-view narrators for the overarching story. Being able to see the world from their eyes is what allows Yatagarasu to truly shine, as their perspectives give the narrative its meaning.
The story of Yatagarasu is a carefully constructed illusion, making sense of the senselessness of simple actions. It’s a series where there’s no such thing as mundanity; every single little detail adds up to a beautiful and terrible painting.
And dear lord, what a beautiful painting it truly is. The animation is just as full of craftsmanship as the story, with a style that is a little less clean and polished than The Apothecary Diaries, but no less stunning. The direction is characterized by its strong cinematography more akin to a movie than an anime. The art is deeply expressive, evoking the feeling of a delicate silk painting with its pale colors and thin line weight. The lightness of its color palette never feels washed out. Instead, it lends itself to a delicate and fairytale-esque atmosphere that perfectly contrasts the sobriety of its tone. It’s as if there’s a silk screen hiding the ugly truth behind it. It’s no wonder that a recurring visual of the show is the falling of cherry blossom petals across the screen. What is a wonder is that Yatagarasu is a production from Studio Pierrot, an animation studio known for works like the Naruto extended universe and Bleach. Apart from the occasional hyped-up fight scene, Pierrot isn’t exactly known for its visual chops. This makes the careful animation and direction of Yatagarasu truly a standout amongst its catalogue.
If there’s one word I would use to describe both The Apothecary Diaries and Yatagarasu, it would be clever. While different, both stories hinge on being narrative puzzles that audiences have to piece together. Any show that hinges on a mystery must walk the careful line between being too obvious and having reveals coming out of nowhere, and both The Apothecary Diaries and Yatagarasu do it splendidly. They’re shows that make the audience themselves feel as clever as the main characters; simultaneously making the protagonists truly feel smart and not, as many mediocre mysteries do, like the brightest idiot in a world full of fools.
On a smaller but still very important note, Yatagarasu is just as fond of women as The Apothecary Diaries is. Both shows tackle the complicated role of women inside and outside the royal palace, mixing the exploration of family and societal pressures with a conviction in their strength and their ability to influence their own situation and better their odds. Yatagarasu doesn’t portray women only as innocent, or pure, or scheming; it allows them to take up space in the narrative and develop as people in both their social and political context. Personally, I’ve developed a strong soft spot for both Hamayu, who is the absolute best and if you think otherwise I will fight you, and Masoho-no-Susuki, who really surprised me as a character. It also has one of, if not the most vile female villain I’ve seen in quite a while, and, well, I think we all know about my obsession with terrible women by now.
Overall, Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master is a severely underrated masterpiece. While it garnered less attention than other similar series, it absolutely deserves a space on your watch list. It’s so difficult not to keep expanding on why Yatagarasu’s plot is so brilliant, but for the sake of avoiding spoilers, I’ve kept this review as vague as possible. If anything here has piqued your interest, I implore you to give the show a chance, as it’s sure to be a hit amongst anyone that loves a good intrigue plot (or three, or five) with a bit of murder thrown in. Y’know, for the funsies.