This article will include spoilers for the Yakuza series and Like A Dragon: Ishin!
I think everyone has that one e, that moment they highly cherish, but would rather die than go through playing again. For me, that’s the Yakuza games. While I adore the series, on the series, I won’t lie and say I am tempted to relive them again, largely due to the lack of long-term emotional investment and the repetitiveness of the main protagonist Kiryu’s relationship templates–new kickboxing sparring bro character, daddy issues with Haruka and Daigo–rinse and repeat.
The way I see it, the Yakuza series would gain a lot–and has already benefited sometimes–by incorporating a good feminine perspective, which, until I played Like A Dragon: Ishin!, has consistently suffered from a lack of direction and squandered opportunities.
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I always found it odd how the series never mentioned Yumi (Haruka’s mother and Kiryu’s original love interest) in any meaningful way after the first Yakuza. The same goes for Yakuza 2’s Kaoru Sayama, who shared an intense kiss with Kiryu on top of a collapsing building, only to be scrapped entirely from the story one entry later. I could also say the same for Majima (Yakuza’s deuteragonist) and his so-called love interest Makimura, which felt like a rather forced breakup under the guise of the two living in different worlds.
Moreover, aside from not having any meaningful and long-term payoffs, the heroines never really shined in the spotlight of their respective games, playing damsel in distress until their final minutes.
Like a Dragon: Ishin! doesn’t dangle the illusion of a romantic partner and make false promises of meaningful relationships, but actually takes care to create a spark between the characters and nurture it until it blossoms. In the Teradaya Inn where Sakamoto Ryoma (Kiryu’s alt-historical identity) was staying, I was constantly fascinated by how Oryo (the Inn maid based on Ryoma’s real wife) was torn between her secret love for Ryoma and her feelings for the samurai squad he belongs to - the squad that killed her father in cold blood.
However, it wasn’t until I saw that conflict culminate in a series of twists of betrayal and grief that directly addressed her inner conflict, along with heartfelt discussions exposing how broken and devoid of love each of them was amidst the chaos of the times, that I began to appreciate how well their relationship was done. Suffice to say that when Oryo–while showering–got wind of assailants trying to kill Ryoma at the Inn, she grabbed a spear and stepped out of the bathtub half-naked to warn him of the impending danger before thinking of her own safety, in a brave gesture immortalized in history as the Teradaya incident, and fully recreated in the game as well.
Even though Oryo sets a high bar both in the series and in real life, I’m not saying that romance is an absolute must-have for a Yakuza story to function, but writing with a more feminie gaze, bolstered by emotionally nuanced women, would go a long way toward balancing out a story that’s heavy on masculine action-packed scenes. It’d allow the characters some much-needed room to breathe and reveal their inner depth and vulnerability.
In fact, If I were to examine the most poignant and unforgettable instances throughout the Yakuza franchise, it would become apparent that a woman is intricately woven into the narrative, and is able to offer a unique viewpoint that Kiryu, the protagonist, cannot replicate.
A natural example would be Haruka herself, as she serves as the primary catalyst for bringing out Kiryu’s fatherly side, or Mayumi Madarame, whose Kiryu’s rejection to her advances provided a deeper introspection into his depression and ingrained solitude. Still, I found the most profound female presence of the series in Haruka’s idol agency manager, Mirei Park, who questions Kiryu’s abilities and shortcomings as a single father and provides Haruka with guidance in areas that Kiryu cannot, such as teaching her to apply makeup, holding her hand on walks, and all these mother-daughter feelings she never got to experience. She even takes on the same mother figure role as the Inn owner Otose in Ishin, so I was happy to see my favorite Yakuza mother figure get a second chance.
It’s clear how the Yakuza narrative is enriched by a diverse gender perspective, but strangely enough, the series never built on these points, opting instead to kill off Mieri early on, get rid of Mayumi entirely, and take Haruka out of the picture with all the teen pregnancy shenanigans in Yakuza 6. Even I felt a little betrayed for Kiryu, despite not being a father myself.
At least Oryo stays throughout Like A Dragon: Ishin’s story, and doesn’t leave before her role even begins. Like Mirei, she provides a contrasting perspective to Kiryu/Ryoma’s quest for revenge, questions his methods, and even bows down to remind him of what he is truly fighting for and beg him to save Kyoto and all of Japan. More than a romantic interest or a female figure, she is like a much-needed voice of reason in a constant cycle of violence and killing, and one whose presence reverberates through the story the more you get into it.
On the other hand, few female characters in the main series embody a relevant and consistent role like Oryo in Ishin, but I think it’s a crucial aspect to consider in future entries, as it provides a compelling dichotomy of gender roles in Japanese society, and reinforces the humane side of the series, which are the aspects that–more than any crazy action or humorous subplots–still linger in my mind and heart until today.
