The Two-Girl Problem

"The complete two-body problem can be solved by re-formulating it as two one-body problems: a trivial one and one that involves solving for the motion of one particle in an external potential."

When I first started watching Boruto, a few months before I picked up the manga, one of the features of the series that stuck out to me in the early episodes was the space provided to its female cast. Despite being centered on a dynamic male protagonist, the narrative lens often widened to include the new generation girl characters in ways that Naruto, the show's predecessor, never achieved with the female members of the Konoha 11.

The arcs that take place during the academy days are exemplary of how the series highlights the girls in the cast. In an early episode, a classmate stalks Sumire, the first romance-adjacent plot line in the series being about the toxicity of obsessive, one-sided crushes. The character (an upperclassman we'll conveniently refer to as Mr-Never-Again-Appearing-in-this-Series), has to face and accept rejection from the object of his affection (as well as, incidentally, ChoCho), and, ultimately, embarks on a course of self improvement, a turn that is radically different from how obsessive crushes were portrayed in the early chapters of Naruto.

One of the first examples of Sarada's development on her path to be Hokage occurs when Boruto prompts her to solve a rift between Wasabi and Namida caused by the latter's family not supporting her in becoming a shinobi (a narrative choice that allows the series to pass the Bechdel Test early on). The anime's female characters are multidimensional both in personality and depiction, shown to be mothers, sisters, daughters, aunts, clan heads, wives, professionals, friends, and, in the case of Sumire, the series's first complex villain. By the end of the first arc, we learn that the sweet, demure class rep is a child played on by the political forces of an older era of Konoha, caught in cycles of hatred and destruction, placed on a dark path by her father's vengeance until Boruto frees her through the power of friendship and connection.

The story does not wholly eschew the topic of romance, however. Through ChoCho's obsession with being an object of affection and the girls' reactions to Kagura, the mature and delicate youth chosen to be the Mizukage's successor we see that the emotion exists on a surface level, but deep connections between male and female characters are formed through respect and friendship rather than crushes and attraction. The series lays the foundation first, then builds upon it, rather than starting with a structure, leaving us to wonder what's holding it up.

Because I was binging the anime (blissfully, in my opinion) unaware of where its plot intersected with direct adaptations of manga content, I failed to notice that the wide-lens given to the female characters narrowed during the manga arcs. When I haphazardly stumbled onto spoilers via Twitter, which led to reading the entire manga run of the first 60+ chapters without understanding the background of how the anime and manga were developed as intersecting (rather than parallel) stories moving toward the same ending, I was taken aback by the shrunken cast and the roles the characters I'd come to know played in the story. This was especially true with the female characters and how they manifested in the manga.

One of the distinct differences we see between the Kodachi-era of Boruto and when Ikemoto (with Kishimoto as advisor and supervisor) took over the writing of the series starting with chapter 55 is that Sarada was the only female character given focus in the early arcs of Boruto: Naruto Next Generations. Himawari exists as a sentient potato sister; Hinata, a housewife in the background; Delta, a cyborg menace; ChoCho, a side-character extra; Sumire, a member of the Scientific Ninja Tool team whose background gets described in a little black text box, the only time this writing technique was employed in the series.

On a personal level, I appreciated of the emotional and narrative development in the Kodachi chapters, but it's also clear that the role and representation of girls in the cast expands after his departure. After chapter 55, Eida is introduced, bringing with her complexities surrounding themes of attraction and love; the first hints of the larger role Hima will play in Two Blue Vortex; Sumire's shift from an assistant the Scientific Ninja Tool Team to being assinged to a larger mission with Eida and positioned beside Amado; Hinata's poignant moments of motherhood, begging to go with Naruto to save the her boys, crying when she feels as though Boruto might never come back, slapping Kawaki when he declares his intent to kill her son a second time; Delta's return as a neutered version of the bad bitch we were introduced to and the reveal that she's a clone of Amado's deceased daughter.

The consequence of this is that readers were used to Sarada receiving the sole focus as a female character felt shortchanged as she suddenly had to share the story with others, even if they had their own roles in the story. This is a matter of perception; if you have a fish tank with only fish resident, you'll notice that one specifically when it swims by. However, when you add another three fish, you'll notice all the times you're seeing a fish that's not the one who you are used to.

Sarada has a starring role in numerous plot beats during the last third of Boruto, even before her starring role in the opening of TBV: standing up for the shinobi tenant of training in chapter 58; her shock at Boruto's chest scar after his death at Kawaki's hands, leading to her commitment to train so she can prove herself worthy of being Hokage and help him more; her key role at the beginning of the observation mission of Eida; her immunity to Omnipotence; risking her life by putting herself between Kawaki and Boruto; begging Sasuke to intercede on her teammate's behalf after Omnipotence swaps their roles when she realizes no one else can help him.

While we can take issue with how her role in the story manifests, whether she is as assertive, as powerful, as pivotal to plot developments as readers might like her to be, there's no question that she is present and active in the story.

Despite this, each chapter release brings new questions about what Sarada is doing in the plot, whether other characters are taking page time and focus from her, occupying a place in the story that could be hers. This is particularly true regarding Sumire, and true to a lesser extent Hima after her Kyubi abilities were revealed. The fact that this comparison doesn't extend to Eida (or Delta or ChoCho) is revealing because the issue is not specifically with all girls, but with other girls who share dynamics with Boruto or who are stepping into a central role in the story.

In the case of Hima, Sarada herself is not in a direct rivalry with her, nor does she share a similar place in the plot. Hima's wish to help Boruto occurs under the influence of Omnipotence, the blonde in her memories being the adopted brother who saved both her life and the life of her father, a different dynamic than Sarada who wants to right the wrongs of Omnipotence. The contrasts that can be drawn between them occur when Hima's character functions in a way that was expected of Sarada: An immense power up, a vow to protect the village inspired by the Will of Fire displayed by her father and brother, inspiring words as she puts herself in danger for the safety of her allies, healing abilities unexpectedly revealed.

Hima's character arc manifests features that were expected of Sarada's trajectory, plot points getting played out through another girl who previously had a smaller role in the story and seemed to be primed for a steady upward climb of development as opposed to a rocket ride.

This is distinct from the dynamic that exists between Sarada and Sumire, two characters with similar affections and a shared goal of supporting Boruto, their hearts and immunity to Omnipotence causing them to experience a gravitational pull toward one another despite their divergent perspectives on how said support manifests. In addition to the emotional similarities they share, the existence of multiple narratives within the series muddles their differences.

Sarada as established in the anime and in the Boruto movie (and thus the manga arc that retells it) is characterized as being analytical, brainy, and studious, qualities that overlap with how Sumire is portrayed in the second half of the Boruto manga. In both versions, Sumire is similarly reserved, but she's depicted as the logical when compared to Sarada's passion, staid when compared to Sarada's impulsiveness, insightful and introspective compared to Sarada's laser-like focus and stubbornness. This contrast serves to enhance their characters, their differences illuminating strengths, flaws, and qualities of each that might have gone unnoticed if they were the solitary girl in the story. This is similar to how protagonist/deuteragonist pairs play off on another, each character becoming a deeper depiction of themselves when their traits are reflected by a rival.

A natural consequence of stories that are told serially is that characters can change as the story unfolds and writers understand the end point they're moving towards in the story without having a chance to go back and revise the plot, which accounts for how Sarada and Sumire change over the course of the manga. However, because there were two serialized versions of Boruto being written developing at the same time, the changes that happen in the two characters lag behind in the anime, further disjointing the narrative for fans who follows both versions.

Nevertheless, there are examples of stories in which multiple characters inhabit similar roles without conflict. For example, early in My Hero Academia, both Bakugo and Todoroki share the role of naturally gifted aspiring super heroes who tell Deku they won't let a nobody like him get in the way of achieving their goals. While Todoroki ultimately is a Neji-type figure early in the story, a paragon of talent for both the protagonist and deuteragonist to measure themselves against, his personality is different enough that it doesn't feel as though he's inhabiting the same role as Bakugo even when their actions are similar.

There is a particular type of discourse applied to female characters, particularly in the Naruto franchise, that as soon as girls appear in the story, they're automatically compared to and put in opposition with one another. In the case of Sarada and Sumire, this comparison is further heightened by them both having emotional connections with Boruto while the characters themselves fail to be distinct enough to establish firm differences.

This goes back to the quote I opened this post with: The complete two-body problem can be solved by re-formulating it as two one-body problems: a trivial one and one that involves solving for the motion of one particle in an external potential. The issue isn't the existence of both girls, but how their writing is handled.

The problem is not that Sarada and Sumire are similar. Rather, individually, neither has their differences explicitly, assertively established.

If we look at another girl pair who share the same crush in Momo Ayase and Aira from Dandadan, the writing gives each time to display explicitly distinct personalities despite the similarities of being popular, attractive girls who like Okarun. They are strong, vocal characters, which establishes their differences early on. Both Momo and Aira are given ample time to show the audience who they are in words, actions, and reactions to events occurring in the plot.

To me, one of the soft points in the Boruto manga is how it balances, or fails to balance, plot progression with character development. Characters are often reacting to, sharing, or processing information, moving the plot along without being positioned for deeper exploration. Returning to the early arcs of the anime, we can see how the wide-lens focus given to the female cast allowed for them to establish their goals and individuality.

In comparison, the Boruto manga features an understated style when it comes to character development, encouraging fans to read between the lines, dropping hints that result in big reveals as opposed to steady builds. It feels as though there's a fear that if the characters reveal too much of themselves, it will spoil the plot. While this is good for the longevity of a monthly release, allowing fans to dive back into previous chapters in search of bread crumbs, it also creates ambiguity to how the plot is going to unfold, leading to speculation and anticipation, which, when expectations remain unmet month after month, creates disappointment and frustration.

Once the manga is finished, the roles Sarada and Sumire share in the story will feel less crowded as readers will know the end point each character was moving towards as their purposes diverge. As it has done in the past, the anime adaptation is also likely to highlight their differences with additional content and context. However, when it comes to Sarada and Sumire in the ongoing story, it's not beneficial to either character to treat a manga as a zero-sum game. One character's actions do not negate the other character's importance, and the existence of two girl characters does not mean they're in a rivalry for supremacy within a story. If it feels like the narrative is shortchanging either of them, that's a flaw that should be attributed to the writing of the series, not to the characters themselves.