Land of the Lustrous’ eleventh episode begins moments after the last, with Dia shattered on the floor and Bort squaring off with this imposing, now apparently divided Lunarian. Having faced this creature on the shoreline, Bort’s finely tuned instincts came to an obvious conclusion: we cannot defeat this creature, and thus we must flee to await Sensei’s guidance. Ensconced in the certainty of their role and purpose, it was an easy call to make, and thus Bort fled without a second glance. Though Bort takes pride in their strength, they are not arrogant or foolhardy; the very fact of their strength means they must take all the more care in applying themselves, ensuring their abilities serve as not just protection, but also a model and guide for their fellow gems.
But now, things are different. The beast has arrived in their home, and though the allegedly “correct” course of action has not changed, everything else has. Dia now lies at their feet, broken, unable to defend themselves. Their Dia, the companion they’ve spent long years marching beside, never questioning their presence, never realizing how much Dia had come to be a part of them. Even Bort, the most stalwart and lauded of Sensei’s gems, the one others look up to in envy and pride, cannot fully exist as an instrument of this culture’s utilitarian values. Even Bort has people they love, people they’d sacrifice everything to protect. Standing above their fallen Dia, Bort steadies their blade, the gem who was once known for absolute pragmatism now ready to die not for the good of the collective, but for the sake of their most precious friend.
Fortunately, Bort is not alone. Phos and Alexandrite soon arrive at the battle, Alex still protesting that “I’m not even supposed to look at the Lunarians, Sensei’s orders!” It’s not surprising that most of these gems still cling to their roles and rules for comfort, particularly in moments like this – but as Alex grips Phos’ sword, we see again how limiting those roles can be. Not just their disposition, but even their hair transforms to a brilliant red hue as they face off with the beast, shining brightly as they embrace some internal berserker instinct. In the desperation of this assault, “proper” roles are abandoned, forcing these gems to demonstrate all the passions and talents their normal duties never make use of. In spite of this society’s allegedly rational distribution of resources, moments like this reveal how Sensei’s order is deeply limiting even for its success stories – a fact that a properly skeptical mind might interpret as evidence he doesn’t want his “children” to recognize their own power.
But questions of Sensei’s motives must cede to more immediate concerns, as Bort and Phos face off with the last thing they were expecting: a bunch of fluffy Lunarian Pomeranians, now huffing noisily as they wander about the school. After a series of alternately tragic and desperate episodes, this sequence of the gems chasing down adorably useless fluffballs arrives as a necessary breather; their “threat level” is immediately established through one falling backwards, flailing its legs, and then just accepting it will be upside down forever, leaving us free to enjoy moments like Bort with sword raised, incapable of vanquishing the ridiculous animals. And so the gems commence a great fluffball hunt, gathering lunar pomeranians in a big cage until they at last reconstitute into their full form, and are promptly greeted by Sensei.
“Shiro, what happened to your hand?” Sensei asks, clearly familiar with the beast that so recently tore Dia to pieces. In fact, he treats it much like a pet, while ‘Shiro’ in turn obeys Sensei like a faithful dog. This truth is unfathomable, intolerable, unrecognizable for the shadow it casts on gem society. Beyond spawning from a common origin, does this mean that both Lunarians and gems respect Sensei as their creator? Given the way the Lunarians stretched and genuflected towards Sensei during their previous attacks, it seems clear they see him as a beloved, perhaps even sacred figure. And given how Sensei responded to that praise, it also seems like he himself spares little love for these creatures. So what actually separates Lunarians from gems – why does Sensei support the gems but not the Lunarians, and how stable are his loyalties in the first place?
While the gems are entirely loyal to this society and Sensei, it is clear that Sensei stands above this hierarchy, maintaining the sole privilege of deciding who stays in his good graces. Is he pitting his children against each other intentionally? For what purpose? And what, given all this damning information, is an already-rebellious gem like Phos supposed to do now? Phos wasn’t just an outsider – it seems they were right to push against this system, as this current betrayal of the sanctity of their duty well proves. And yet only Phos seems to recognize the awful truth of this revelation, while fellows like Jade ask “is its name such a big deal?”
Left alone with their thoughts, Phos struggles to reconcile Shiro’s existence with the rules of gem society. “The way he said it… it sounded like the two of them were so much closer than any of us.” The precise thing Sensei has been denying the gems, the sense of community or even family that might lead them to find purpose and joy outside of their duties, is freely given to this Lunarian creature. This beast that actually broke Dia to pieces, that caused such panic and pain to the gems, is closer to Sensei than any of them could ever hope to be. Yet even with this damning evidence lounging before them begging for pets, the other gems seem utterly unfazed. Only Phos, through their very “unsuitability” for this world, has developed the strength to question it.
When you are loved by your society, it is easy to assume that society itself is righteous, and that things are the way they’re always meant to be. But when you don’t fit into that order, you will certainly feel hopeless and rejected, but you might also begin to question whether that order is truly correct. If Phos had always been able to run patrol routes without issue, they might never have realized that Sensei is also fallible, and perhaps not even trustworthy. Instead, through their halting attempts at fitting in, they steadily cultivated the greatest threat to any conservative society: curiosity, the ability to imagine beyond your current surroundings, and thereby doubt their righteousness or inevitability.
Phos’ fellow outcast Cinnabar is not impressed by this revelation. When informed that Sensei is probably lying to them, they reply that “everyone has come to guess as much,” but that “they’ve all made an unspoken agreement to trust in Sensei no matter what the truth might be.” Too much of their world and identity rides on believing in the collective fantasy that Sensei has constructed. For the other gems, the idea that their duties are meaningless and their Sensei is a false prophet is intolerable; after all, those duties and Sensei himself have always been their source of strength, their validation in spite of all the horrors of this world. If Sensei is fallible, then the gems have been working for nothing, have fought and lost their loved ones for the sake of some idle, arbitrary game.
Those with the most to lose rarely become revolutionaries. But Phos, who has never had the privilege of feeling comfortable in this society, is in a perfect position to question it. Of course, that might involve invoking the ire of all their fellow gems, but it’s just a fact of life that we tend to blame the people who rob us of our delusions more vehemently than we blame the people who inspired those delusions in the first place. “I might have been wrong, but at least I was happy” is a tragically common refrain.
Faced with the threat of even further ostracization, it’s little wonder that Cinnabar lacked the will to push this question. But rather than accept this broken reality, Cinnabar admits a certain level of doubt. With none of their usual confidence, Cinnabar asks “what are you going to do,” signaling a willingness to follow Phos on this dangerous journey. And as the very frame of their world is fractured into splinters, Phos states that “I want to know the truth,” their abandonment of moral certainty echoing the painful transformations of their limbs. A psychological transformation can be just as damaging as a physical one, permanently altering our personalities and relationships with the people around us. A comfortable lie can keep us moving forward, while uncertainty can leave us adrift and directionless. But Phos has learned and lost too much to continue validating Sensei’s false reality – Antarcticite died for that world, and Phos will not allow that death to be meaningless.
“It’s always courage. How much is it going to take?” We see the alloy fostering even more cracks in Phos’ limbs as they consider just how strong they’ll have to become in order to challenge Sensei. One change is never enough – it’s always a process, and we are always breaking ourselves, recovering, stretching out towards the next handhold and breaking again. Personal growth is not a switch we flip, it is a mountain with no clear summit. And “courage” is even worse, for it is a quality we can only embody when we are not feeling confident. As Phos is learning, the moment an action no longer requires bravery it becomes routine, meaning they can’t even take satisfaction in the competencies they once desperately aspired to.
Phos’ alloy melts and collapses in time with their emotions, covering their body entirely as they wonder what they were even after in the first place. Seeking a place in this world has only brought Phos pain, grief, and further uncertainty. It’s no wonder most of the gems are happy to maintain their place in this society – at least through that, they can extract some measure of confidence in their daily routine, satisfaction in work well done, and camaraderie with the gems they’re working alongside. Challenging the very foundation of your society need not be difficult in some physical sense. Sensei doesn’t even really need to conceal his secrets, because what future happiness could await a gem who challenges him? Phos is the only one who’s done so, and look how much happiness that has brought them.
And yet, even after summoning the courage to ask Sensei for the truth, Phos cannot pull the trigger. Perspective warps sickeningly just before Phos can ask the crucial question, and we receive another vision of Antarcticite, again holding a finger up to their lips. Antarcticite knew the truth, and yet still kept Sensei’s secrets – just another part of their vigil, their defense of the gem community. Would knowing the truth actually help the people Phos cares about? Sometimes a lie can be meant kindly, and with Antarcticite as their guiding light, Phos cannot open Pandora’s box, and risk destroying the world they all care so much about.
Instead, Phos simply provides a status report on their time with Bort, and furthermore states they’d like to continue their Lunarian research independently. Not just asking for a role, but possessing the confidence to assign themselves a unique task: another milestone that would have been treated with rapturous excitement by the original Phos, but which now is just a matter of circumstance and necessity. Step by step, Phos is growing past their original ambitions, their eyes set too far ahead to recognize these thresholds as meaningful advancements. While Phos wished for strength, what they truly desired was certainty – and with every step forward, that certainty only retreats further into the distance.
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