The tragic irony of Fuminori is how his humanity ultimately destroyed itself by fulfilling itself –
in failing to recognize his own species as ‘people’, and taking solace in his graceful
delusions of Saya, the only “person” in his life, he killed, consumed, abandoned,
and ultimately doomed those who had been dear to him, but could no longer
comprehend him. Still, residing in Saya’s World, he holds a small pity for his friend
Yoh, mutilated and transformed by Saya into something appreciable by him, and
even admits that he cannot bring himself to ‘hurt’ those he sees as humans,
even if he knows the truth to be much different. His old acquantances Kouji and
Ryoko are nothing but interlopers in his quest to be with Saya – and though one
must be destroyed, it is not out of malice or hunger, but simple self-preservation.
He has become in all but flesh a Sayathian being, with her eventual conquest of
Earth the only way to absolve his sins and bring peace to his broken mind.
The crowning moment of Fuminori’s life was the completion of
Saya’s mission – her titular Song, transforming all humans on Earth into her
own species. Our becoming Sayathians, nigh-immortal, intelligent, durable, and
advanced as they are, was a perfect fate for him and us – we lose our
weaknesses and failings to become
better, and Fuminori can live in peace with fellow humans once more (presuming
Saya’s effect on him extends to her brethren.)
In any case, this is the most refreshing perspective on
horror fiction I have encountered in years, even without Saya. What if a
Lovecraftian God was the only example of beauty and kindness one could ever
know? What if all other people were repulsive monstrosities, yet also the only
satisfying sustenance left on Earth? This story writes itself, yet, thankfully,
Saya no Uta transcends it, with possibly the most beautifully inhuman finale of any game I’ve ever
seen.
