Honey and Clover – What Yuta’s Journey Meant to Me

I recently decided to rewatch an old favourite of mine: Honey and Clover. I first watched the show back in 2011, a whopping nine years ago, and, mainly because of my tendency to keep looking forward towards the next big thing, I haven’t rewatched it since. A lot has changed since then. I’ve changed. My life circumstances have changed. As such, I was interested in seeing how my experience with Honey and Clover would vary the second time ‘round. This is what motivated me to rewatch the show. Two of Honey and Clover’s storylines really resonated with me during my first brush with the show: Ayumi Yamada’s unrequited love (I’d been rejected by my crush of three years just before starting the show) and Yuta Takemoto’s solitary journey from Tokyo to Hokkaido on his beat-up bicycle. It’s the latter storyline that I want to talk about today… 

Author’s note: this won’t be my most cohesive or well-structured post. I won’t lie: I’m writing this one more for my own benefit than anybody else’s. I just wanted to jot down some stray thoughts on a storyline that really spoke to me. 

Yuta’s journey meant a lot to him: while on the road he discovered a lot about himself and, by the journey’s end, he knew what direction he wanted to head in post-graduation. But it has always meant a lot to me too. When I first watched Yuta’s journey unfold, back in 2011, it spoke to a burning desire within me to escape. I was a desperately unhappy teen who wanted nothing more than to leave behind my family home and the abuse of my mother, the school where I was ignored by my peers and put down by my teachers, and myself (or the aspects of myself that I didn’t like: alone, anxious, and mistrustful of other people). There were times when I thought about stuffing a backpack full of clothes, buying a train ticket that’d take me as far away as possible (hey, I wasn’t as athletic as Yuta!), and just leaving. That’s why watching Yuta reach his limit (with vying for Hagu’s attention, with his fruitless job search, and with himself), get on his bicycle, and pedal away from his problems was just so cathartic. While immersing myself in his journey, I was able to live vicariously through him. It allowed me to escape myself, if only for a moment… 

Naturally, as I grew older and wiser, I realised that running away from your problems isn’t really a solution. It’s like a kid playing hide and seek. You can cover your eyes and pretend that you’re safe, hidden, and cut off from the world, but your problems will almost certainly find you. That being said, over the years (particularly throughout college), I’d often dwell on Yuta’s journey. It was comforting to think that, if things ever got too much, I could always “pull a Yuta” and scramble on out of there! 

Rewatching Honey and Clover almost a decade later, Yuta’s journey hit me a little differently. It was never just about him escaping his problems. It was also about proving some things to himself. First of all, could he do it? Did he have it in himself to do something as challenging as cycling from one end of Japan to the other, all by himself, with just the clothes on his back? And, if he could, what else could he do? This also resonated with me. I firmly believe that if I’m not pushing myself, I’m not growing. So I’m always doing things that I find difficult. Take blogging, for instance. I don’t think that I’m especially good at it, but if I can just keep going, maybe that’ll change… 

Yuta’s journey was also about proving whether or not he could exist within a vacuum. Throughout his life, he’d needed other people to give his life meaning and direction. For the longest time, Yuta had lived solely for his mother. Until his step-father came on the scene, providing for her was his whole reason for existing. And, throughout college, it seemed as if Yuta only ever felt at peace when surrounded by a group of his friends. Whenever they’d distance themselves, to pursue their own goals, their own reasons for living, he’d remember how meaningless his own existence was and go into an emotional tailspin. Yuta’s journey was in complete defiance to this tendency of his. For the first time in his life, he was completely alone. Suddenly, Yuta only had himself to rely on, to decide what his next step ought to be. To do something so counter to his natural way of thinking and feeling must have taken so much courage. Like Yuta, I, too, look to others to give my life meaning, so, to do something like that, strikes me as unspeakably brave! 

Finally, Yuta’s journey was a reminder, of the importance of all that he left behind. Yuta got a lot out of his journey (including that impressive farmer’s tan), but this was, by far, his biggest takeaway. It can’t have been easy, spending all that time away from his family and friends, but, as the old saying goes: absence makes the heart grow fonder. Immediately upon Yuta’s return, he sought out his muse and madonna, Hagu, to tell her that he’d returned safe and sound. He also approached life with far more drive and passion. Yuta stood up for himself more readily, became more open and honest with his feelings, and began making positive steps towards his future. I suppose, given the clarity and perspective that distancing himself from his problems gave him, he realised everything he stood to lose through inaction. 

Even now there are some days I still feel like “pulling a Yuta” – when my husband is driving me crazy, when I just can’t take another guest talking down to me at work… But Yuta was exceptionally lucky in that he could still come back to everything he held dear, even after leaving it all behind. I know that I wouldn’t be so lucky, so aren’t I much better off cherishing what I have while I still have it…? 

These are just some of the thoughts I had while watching Yuta pedal away on his bike. For those of you who’ve seen this beautiful, hidden gem of a show, what did you think of Yuta’s journey? Did it resonate with you? And, if so, how?