It's strange...A lengthy year post-Zoku hasn't even been shown yet, but the forward progress in reality's timeline being an indisputable verdict in the Monogatari Series henceforth casts a sense of inescapable obligation to be mindful of the years that have been, in looking over the year that is now. Nearing the end of the twelvemonth, I've dove into this new world outside the garden of the high school that we've known for so long through Araragi's eyes. And there's no more looking back, for the Fire Sisters have disassembled, operating with only Tsukihi as the sole agent of justice; Nadeko has begun to reconcile with her past, looking back on it hard to place more importance on looking onward; Kanbaru has retired from the basketball club and is attempting to make amends with the consequences of her generation strongly felt by her juniors; Shinobu had a reunion with Suicide-Master after six centuries; and Araragi found a new Maths friend in Meniko, being a full-fledged university student who has graduated from Naoetsu High. The gears have turned--they're turning and will continue to do so from now on as we've flipped past the chapter of Araragi's high school years. So it's strange, skipping through time with such finality specifically in this case. I was not expecting at all for Monogatari to be one with pure fidelity to the march of time so as to arrange a continuous affair with them and us after everything that's happened. It got to me only as of writing that it'll continue growing like the eternal vow Isin's characters promised to themselves.

!! Sentimental Drama Alert !!

In the face of a disciplined show with an unfading commitment to self-growth that does not avert its eye away from the philosophies that affect our reality, I once turned tail. Apart from the usual stress of university inhibiting a focused watch time, I was terrified of confronting the disappointment of knowing that the lessons I thought I'd learned from the past had been gradually neglected by me once again. To be honest, that sort of terror was present even dating back to the announcement--a surge of excitement for a new installment that preceded a gray sorrow. That was because I'll be watching a long-awaited entry to the series without a close friend anymore, the close friend that introduced me to it, who to this day perhaps has Monogatari as his favorite anime amidst all, the only friend whom I've made tryhard analytical discussions with and vice versa. The emptiness that comes with necessary growth so easily made me regress, and so I was placed in my most sorry state again, the same one I had years before, and watching the characters moving on from it (with huge emphasis on sweet Nadeko) was nothing short of exhausting. That battle of voices had me pause Off & Monster Season after Draw. Only now was I able to muster up the strength to confront myself through Monogatari once more. Though that friend was still on my mind all throughout, it seems the "Completed" tag slapped on this season in my profile shows a prevailing over what has been haunting the heart, albeit a victory not so overwhelming as I'm writing it to be.

Araragi's absence at the beginning of the new season formed the bedrock of its effective storytelling. Although the menace overtook the latter half (for better or for worse for the many), the established absence only made acute the ubiquity of his salvation spree's influence. I hate it but it's funny how Araragi's constant attendance on screen made it so that there's a degree of anxiety hovering around whenever the rest of the characters encounter major apparition-related issues without him, compared to Shinobu Mustard where it was a breeze to watch through without any sort of restlessness simply in virtue of his being involved. And he's not even a Deus Ex Machina; it's not even like everyone is overly dependent on the guy. I understand that this weird conception stems from my own weakness. I am a character in Monogatari who was helped by Araragi, but I am also a person who can help myself even without someone like him--or at the very least, after he has imparted the seedling from those noble deeds for me to nurture for myself, only if I take bravery into my arms.

See, Monogatari has a way of slithering into the more personal quarters of a person (and just like me, share my thoughts with vulnerable dramatism). Tsukihi Undo's colorful theatrics, led by the verbal deadpan queen Ononoki and Nadeko Draw's wild goose chase littered with the titular protagonist's humorously self-aware internal soliloquies were sure to be a fun ride in and of themselves, what with the flex on stylistic genius utilizing the medium in such a bizarre yet artistic manner so as to further reinforce its identity seamlessly through the ocean of dialogue, but in reflecting over the experience, it is the feeling of witnessing a Koyomi-less adventure that takes good care of the individuals now placed at the center that makes me wistful. The first fruits of change have shown themselves. And it's not like the series shoves it into your throat that significant ordeals should always turn the tables of your life around. Sodachi singlehandedly conveyed how the development of character does not indiscriminately follow a scripted evolution at the snap of a finger. Her inclusion in Off is a testament to the complementary relationship the cast of Monogatari possesses.

Well-written, most definitely, this entry is. The expected divide between Off and Monster felt nonexistent thanks to Shinobu Mustard integrating the function of time, change, and youthful angst to facilitate its respective plot very well, notably because it was Acerola bon Appetit that segues into it. So much thought was given at the outset to make it appear that common themes can be found across these different story arcs to make cohesiveness reign. This directly contributes to the easy feeling of enjoyment because there weren't any irritating tugs or scratches or pokes coming from indeterminate places, all of which can only manifest in places of disjointed storytelling.

I would just like to express, however, that the last pair was not up to the standard that Nadeko Draw set. Admittedly, the sentimental affinity was not shared as much as well. My connection with Shinobu has dwindled over the years, so the tale of the Beautiful Princess and portions of its continuation served like a casual museum visit to the halls where gothic portraits of historical figures are animated, where sheer visual aesthetics and dynamic (yet appropriate) style shifts please the beholder nonstop. The commanding aspect of Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicide-Master was nothing short of an achievement in character presentation. The mystery of the female high school mummies inflicted no boredom at all; it had the same Monogatari flavor and I was made to be eager to know the answer to this incident. Araragi has taken the wheel, too! You can never really know that you miss something so familiar until it's been gone for a while, huh? Perhaps I was simply leaning toward being unresponsive to this specific expansion of the lore and the intricacies of the vampire species--their moral systems, changes throughout longevity, conversion processes, and how they relate to the human side of things.

If I can describe those episodes leading to the ending, it would be...airy. Airy in the sense that I did not feel so anchored to the screen by the power of some seductive potion enchanting attachment to the drinker (and there was none), airy in that I did not perceive the gravity of the conflict to be as impactful as it seemed, airy--reason being that that conclusion which has flooded me over with enough appreciation for Araragi to be added to my favorites after all this time because of the more mature tone he's been treading on was insufficient to carry the "light" experience of the episodes leading up to those brief bits. I could not give much fixation about Harimaze and Suicide-Master, and the information that was communicated from the reunion between the purebred vampire and a regressed Kiss-shot does not hold so much weight to me; apart from that, it was just...nice to know.

However, the thematic point of Shinobu viewing humans as monsters from the cold-blooded vampiric lens of seeing them as food does provide a means for further discerning and direct participation in the story. To me, I understand it as Shinobu learning the special strength humanity contains; it takes assuming a more equal or slightly inferior position against the object at hand to refer to it as a monster. Other than that, it's Shinobu understanding that people have a depth that is difficult to fathom, for they are monsters that can take form into anything they wish due to powerful emotions and circumstances, hence the label that is fit for foreign beings. The vampire known as the Apparition Killer is now saying humans are monsters instead of food, and indeed, there's a monstrosity hiding within our dizzying numbers that could even affect the world with oddities at large. Of course, there is the literal route, case in point Harimaze Kie and her willingness to shed her humanity in the madness of it all, not to mention the crab, monkey, snake, and cat from the seasons way back when--not to mention Koyomi himself.

The overall reflection on what it means to be growing into an adult and processing the changes living beings go through in the flow of time still triumphs within, yet it is unfortunate for me to say that the latter half was not able to prop me up to greater heights. Nonetheless, this is the Monogatari Series we're talking about. This season would have been lovely to dissect with the close friend I've been mentioning as we did all those years, which does mix in downcast feelings within. Such a strike that pervades the personal life means Monogatari is continuing to be a most special piece of art.