Unfortunately, the fandom has always generally preferred to focus on emotionally satisfying character moments over the political themes underlying the narrative of Ensemble Stars. When the politics do get acknowledged, there's also always a crowd of people looking to fold those politics into their emotional satisfaction or broader enjoyment of a fictional story that is often, by its very nature, voyeuristic. In the case of stories like Supervillain and Stella Maris, this amounts to treating them as morally complex and mature, all while the way they depict conflict and the conclusions at which they arrive are ultimately anti-activism, pro-imperialism, and frankly anti-Ryukyuan. Simultaneously, Indigenous or Indigenous-coded suffering becomes a catalyst for the growth of the Japanese characters without actually giving Indigenous characters agency in their own story. I find the Okinawa Arc especially creepy because it mirrors the way Okinawan resistance gets talked about in the real world. The story depicts it as unusually violent, manipulated by more powerful figures, contrary to the greater good, and an obstacle for the protagonists. In Stella Maris in particular, we see Hoshijima is told to bear and adapt to a burden from the mainland that is framed as necessary growth. Hoshijima has to accept Project-ATLANTIS for its own material security and economic development. This draws a parallel to the way the burden of military bases are placed on Okinawa and defended as necessary, practical, and tied to its security, development, and economy. In the past year, I've had the opportunity to talk to some RYUSEITAI fans who shared their discomfort with the Okinawa Arc. I hope more people are willing to come forward and talk about it openly, because it really is a disturbing series of stories.

This is actually something I have pondered for a while. I think Niki and Mizusaba could get along pretty well in the kitchen, y'know. They're used to working with other chefs professionally. But the types of restaurants they've worked in are considerably different. Niki is at the ES staff cafeteria (maybe a rotating set menu) and Cafe Cinnamon (a seemingly more upscale cafe with a changing seasonal menu). Niki also has a role in designing the menu, so it's possible he is something of a head chef at Cinnamon. Mizusaba works at a family-owned restaurant in Okinawa that seems to be geared towards tourists. There could be regular menu changes, but I don't believe anything has implied that, nor that Mizusaba has any role in deciding what's on the menu. Different atmospheres, different clientele, different roles. So, I do wonder how that would affect their different views on cooking as a trade. Unfortunately, there's only so much I can say about Mizusaba's relationship to food and cooking that do not become backstory spoilers. So, as a general matter, I think Mizusaba and Niki would have a friendly relationship. But, I feel like they wouldn't become close. Cooking is the main thing they have to bond over, and although that's obviously very important to both of them, I can see the conversation fizzling out when Niki realizes Mizusaba's interests actually primarily lie elsewhere.

Ibuki Rewritten's story doesn't really have a single clean message. The writing touches on a lot of topics having to do with things such as ethnicity, diasporic identities, indigeneity, class, imperialism, history, family, and more. I'd prefer if people were able to read it and have different takeaways based on what resonates with them. I don't want to make readers feel like they should be searching for a particular "lesson" going in, if you know what I mean. If you mean what I want to convey literally with the project itself, I hope it's something that can inspire more interest in the people and places it is about. I wanted to make the characters as human as possible. I would be happy if even the most ideologically heavy character could be understood as a person. And, to that effect, I hope the project communicates that the themes the story handles—and that Enstars handles—are not abstract political questions, but lived experiences.