Samurai of Hyuga Book 4
By Devon Connell
☆☆☆ (7/10)
First, a warning. I’ll be discussing major spoilers (hidden, of course) but also abuse by a romantic partner.
Well, you know the drill by now when it comes to the Samurai of Hyuga series. If you disliked the linear aspect of the previous books, you’ll dislike this one. If you dislike Jun/ko, you’ll hate this one. If you don’t like dark morality, you’ll definitely not like this one. Book 4 was the most difficult for me to get through, personally. I mentioned before that each book focused on a certain character: Book 2 was Momoko, Book 3 was Toshie, and Book 4 is the controversial Jun/ko. For the newcomers, they are your psychotic ex, and I don’t use that term loosely. Book 4 also follows the archetypal Hero’s Journey, the worst stage, the Ordeal. In this stage, the hero faces their darkest fears, undergoes a symbolic or literal death, and emerges reborn. Think Odysseus going to the Underworld; Harry Potter in Deathly Hallows; and … Idk Jesus Christ being crucified. By definition, this stage involves grief, loss, and bitterness. Devon Connell, in his signature anime-maximalist style, takes that emotional misery and cranks it to eleven. So when you combine an aggressively linear structure, a deeply polarizing character, and an unrelentingly bleak tone … yeah. It’s not hard to see why this is the most divisive entry in the series. I acknowledge it’s important to the ronin’s growth, and I did find Connell’s depiction of Jun/ko intriguing, but for me personally, I was only invested at the very end—when good things started to happen. YMMV. Still, I’m giving SoH a thumbs up because it’s not a bad book by any means, just more of an interactive novel than game.
Pros:
Writing. Connell’s writing is the highlight of the series and is enough to keep me invested. I found myself going along with his silly plot (see below), even when I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on because his writing is that good. It’s detailed as ever: lingering on the surprising sweetness of alcohol, the lightness of an instrument, and of course the desperate fight scenes. He’s excellent at making everything feel physical. I love how the fight scenes aren’t flashy power fantasies, either. Yeah, your ronin will kick ass for five minutes but afterward, they feel every cut and bruise and are gasping for breath, unable to stand.
Plot. Sometimes when I play JRPGs like Persona, I tell myself to turn off my brain. Anime-y writing is big and bold. And weird. You kinda have to meet it halfway? Connell’s writing has a lot of juxtaposition: tender moments sit right next to violence. Absurdity and sincerity coexist in the same scene. That juxtaposition gives the plot momentum and keeps it from feeling flat, even when the structure is linear. The story swings hard, and while it doesn’t always land cleanly, it’s rarely boring. I honestly hollered at the ending because there’s like. Three plot twists that are perfectly narratively yet shocking. So, you know what? Why not? (MAJOR SPOILERS) Why not add cannibalism? I love that. Why not talk about having kids with your crazy ex? Why not have the heavens break open as you go to Hell? Ah, fuck it, we ball.
Echoes of past characters. Connell gives crumbs to those who are reading in spite of Jun/ko. Momoko, Toshie, Hatch, the kid, and earlier choices continue to matter, even when they’re not physically present. It’s quite agonizing, honestly, but realistic. Can love survive distance, or does it only persist as memory? I, personally, love when a character haunts the narrative.
Bashõ. The little snake is growing on me, ngl. I don’t trust him at all, but he’s a funny little dude.
Mixed:
Jun/ko. Ah, where do I start. Well, objective facts first. Your ronin will get abused, straight up. They are shoved against walls, bitten, drowned, kissed, dragged around on both a literal and metaphorical leash, treated as property, and have their trauma openly mocked. Jun/ko tortures, maims, and attempts to kill people simply for being close to the ronin. They also attempt to force themselves on the ronin—though you can invoke a safeword, and they will stop. How do I feel about this? Well, first off, props to Connell for actually going there. This isn’t sanitized, implied, or coyly danced around. The abuse is explicit, uncomfortable, and intentionally ugly. Jun/ko isn’t romanticized as “misunderstood” or softened to be palatable; they are obsessive, violent, and deeply broken, and the text never pretends otherwise. I’m also cool with the abuse aspect (OOC this sounds awful), as to me, I can separate the ronin’s fictional story from my personal, realistic viewpoint. I generally support authors flexing their skills, even if it’s nasty. (I also can’t judge from my high horse; I adore The Outlast Trials.)
Jun/ko’s past. Without getting into spoilers, it’s pretty common for yandere types to have a ~traumatic backstory~. Of course, Connell gives Jun/ko one. And it’s surprisingly … good? I found myself looking at Jun/ko’s actions through a different, “objective” lens. I could see why they’re fixated on the kid, or why the narrative describes them aschildlike, holding hands as them seem to emotionally regress. I’m glad there’s added depth and context to Jun/ko’s obsession, cruelty, and unpredictability. I can’t excuse everything they do, but for a moment, I can see the pieces that shaped them, and that makes the encounters with Jun/ko … unsettling, but also rather compelling. There’s a lot of “I can fix them” energy in this one! Overall, I’m still neutral yet curious to them as a character. I liked their sweeter side (those damn apple trees), and I found myself sometimes pitying them. I don’t mind being dragged around like a dog by a pretty lady, but sadly, I am not a fan of getting abused. However, I think their role in the narrative and how they might react to the cast fascinating. I honestly can’t choose between the ROs—which is a testament to Connell’s skill.
Cons:
Linear. The plot is by far the most linear. Your choices will be how you react in combat or your attitude. Fine, I can look past that. But a large part of what irked me is the ronin’s passivity with Jun/ko. You can choose not to love them, but no matter what, you will have to “fake date” them. You will always fantasize about them, be concerned over how they’re feeling, try to comfort them, try to protect them, and be happy to see them. Your poor ronin (and I think, the narrative, too) will act like the said abuse is fine and harmless. 
Dark. I mean, do I need to say it? Spending an entire book trapped in Jun/ko’s orbit is exhausting, and at times actively distressing. The writing is doing exactly what it’s meant to do—forcing the player to sit with the ronin’s lack of agency and warped sense of attachment—but that doesn’t mean every reader will want, or be able, to stay there. For some, this will feel like a daring psychological deep dive. For others, it will cross a personal line. Buyer, beware!