And so we reach the moment when Seirei no Moribito gets much more difficult to watch, though no less brilliant.  This middle stretch of the series, almost entirely Kamiyama Kenji original material, does its job all too well.  The past few episodes humanized Balsa, Chagum and Tanda and made them real and sympathetic to a degree rarely equalled in anime.  Now, knowing that this idyllic period is over, things get much heavier.  #12 is indeed the transitional episode for the entire series – the one where cracks began to form in the idyllic world Kamiyama worked so hard to build.

Episode 12 is also an important one in terms of the mythology underlying the fantasy element of Seirei no Moribito.  As such it’s no surprise that Kawai Kenji’s haunting “Nahji no Uta” is its main soundtrack.  This series remains unparalleled at portraying rural life in gorgeous terms, and the summer festival is certainly no exception.  To call this “world-building” really doesn’t do it justice – it’s too mundane a term for what Kamiyama and team do.  It all feels so real that you think she can smell the smoke of the bonfires and feel their warmth on your face.

Chagum’s small act of rebellion here really shouldn’t have the repercussions it does, but this is not a just world Uehashi Nahoko has created.  He’s only doing what he thinks is right – as usual – and trying to put a bully in his place.  It’s also pretty clear that Balsa thinks she’d probably have done the same thing when she was a child, which is why she isn’t harder on Chagum than she is.  But fate is fate, and what happens at the festival is the event that sets the rest of the narrative in motion.  Along the way we get some wonderful interplay between Balsa and Chagum.  He has a keen mind and a child’s curiosity, and as such not much gets past him – it’s a joy to see Chagum’s intellect working behind those steely eyes of his, processing what Balsa and his senses tell him and developing at a dizzying pace.

The fact is, if Balsa had, in the end, just decided to let the Rota boy Yassam (played by a young Ono Kensho) off the hook without keeping his promise, things would probably have turned out fine.  But having seen what Chagum had done to defend the honor of his family – and score a victory in the process – her own sense of justice couldn’t let it stand.  Maybe she liked saying “let the parents settle it” too.  And settle it she certainly does, leaving things seemingly back to normal.  But the last few seconds of the episode make it clear in no uncertain terms that this is not the case.

The snake in question makes his presence felt soon enough in Episode 13, as we reach the halfway point of the series.  It would have been more straightforward if someone connected to the palace had seen Balsa or Chagum at the festival and recognized them, but this is more realistic, and it gives the series a chance to explore areas of Balsa’a character that we haven’t deeply explored before.  Karbo (played by the very accomplished seiyuu (Ootomo Ryyzaburou, who brings great gravitas to the role) is considerably more than the “professional rival” she describes him as to Tanda.

Balsa’s past is a constant presence in Seirei no Moribito, almost like a character in its own right.  Karbo comes from a part of it that isn’t so dark, in truth – Balsa has already turned the corner in her life and made her promise to Tanda.  But for a man like Karbo, being spared only deepens the humiliation of defeat (which I suspect with many of Balsa’s opponents stung especially because they were beaten by a woman).  It seems she tormented him especially before she took him down and presumably freed the slaves whose caravan he was guarding, and he aims to pay her back in full using what he knows is her weakness – the welfare of innocents.

The teacher (Asagami Youko) and her pack driver (Yamaguchi Kappei, no less) are indeed innocent bystanders, but they’re the blunt instrument Karbo uses against Balsa.  This is a showdown as fascinating in its own way as that with the swordsmith, and it culminates in a spear battle in a forest of bamboo that rivals Balsa’s fights with the Hunters in sheer visual magnificence.  But the most significant part of this is what we can take away from it.  Balsa reveals the truth of her situation to the travelers whose bodyguard she’s become – the teacher relates the story of a warrior who so lost himself in his quest for ferocity that he literally became the tiger he strove to be, and lost everything and everyone dear to him in the process.

It seems to me that Balsa proves here she’s willing to break her vow and kill if that’s what she has to do to fulfill her role as Chagum’s protector.  She may say all lives should be valued equally, but Balsa is a human being who has the capacity to love – she can’t weight Karbo’s kife equally with Chagum’s.  Nevertheless, though she believes she has she doesn’t in fact kill Karbo – though just exactly what happens at the close of their battle is subject to some interpretation.  Perhaps Balsa has become so strong as a warrior that she can strike a blow that destroys Karbo without taking his life – one that so thoroughly demonstrates the difference in skill that he no longer has the will the fight.