My Top Seven Aspects of My Top Four Kamen Rider Shows: #3, Kamen Rider Agito

For the second entry in this series, I’ll be writing about Kamen Rider Agito. This show began in 2001 right off the heels of Kuuga, and ended in 2002. While it was initially conceived as a sequel to Kuuga that takes place in the same world but focuses on a different cast, Agito quickly branched off and forged an identity all its own. Another interesting aspect about Agito is that its lead writer is Toshiki Inoue, who was also the lead writer for Faiz, the which will be the last (first?) entry I write about on this series.

When an ancient power revives, three men’s lives change forever. The friendly amnesiac Shouichi suddenly gains the power to transform into the mystical Agito, while the brash Ryou is given, or cursed, with the brutal and vicious power of Gills. When monsters begin slaughtering innocent people, the police dispatch the brave but clumsy Hikawa to quell the threat. He operates G3, a mechanical suit that allows him to fight on par with these superpowered beings. Shouichi swears to use his power to protect others, while Ryou investigates the root cause of the matter alone. While each of these characters live in their own plotlines, their paths gradually intertwine and bring them together.

With that setup, we’re ready to get into it. Here are my seven favorite aspects of my third favorite Kamen Rider show.

7. Touru Houjou, the predictable wildcard

Houjou is perhaps the most Agito character in Agito’s entire cast. I say this because Houjou is a character who, on the surface, seems to be repetitive, underdeveloped, and boring. These same complaints have been leveled against Agito as a show in general, particularly of its first half. But a closer look at Agito, as well as Houjou’s place in its story, reveal that there’s a lot to love.

Houjou is a police detective who works in opposition to fellow policeman Hikawa as often as he works alongside him. Their goals, at least on paper, are the same: the safety and security of Japan’s people. But their reasons for pursuing this goal are different. Hikawa, of course, is a hero. A normal man with the heart of a rider, the same as Ichijo, his archetypal predecessor.

Houjou, on the other hand, is an opportunist. He’s someone who tries to seize control of every situation because he doesn’t trust anyone else to do the job right. The most relevant of these attempts is his ongoing bid to replace Hikawa as G3’s operator. Again, since G3 is simply a mechanical suit, and not an ingrained transformation like most other Kamen Rider forms, it can be worn by just about anyone. Much of this desire stems from his perception that Hikawa is the same as him. You see, a pervasive fault of Houjou’s is that he’s someone who tends to assume the worst of any given person.

Houjou’s function is nearly the same throughout every episode: investigate the ongoing case of the killer monsters, question the legitimacy of every bit of evidence found by Hikawa and his team, and use every advantage he can to further his campaign to replace Hikawa as G3’s operator. He’s honestly kind of impressive. Every time you think he’s finally gotten his ego checked enough that he’s going to change for the better, he doubles down. And believe me, this happens a lot.

Another cool aspect about Houjou is that he’s something of a prototype for a major character in Faiz, which, again, has the same lead writer as Agito. Houjou is, for the most part, on the heroes’ side, for whatever that counts for. He’s an ally, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s a friend. I’ll talk about this comparison more when I get into Faiz.

Nonetheless, it’s suffice to say that Houjou isn’t an evil person, or even really a selfish one. He’s just extremely self-centered, which isn’t necessarily a terrible quality to have. People need to look out for themselves to some degree. But most of Houjou’s conflicts stem from him assuming, subconsciously, that everyone is as self-centered as he is. That when Hikawa dons the G3 suit and selflessly throws himself into danger to save someone, it has to be a means to an end. That when someone like Shouichi and Ryou are suddenly are given the gift of great power, they would only think of using it for themselves. That humanity has no more real heroes left to its name. This hopelessness, more than anything else, is Houjou’s greatest failing.

Houjou is a character who seems straightforward at first glance, but who also rewards further analysis and contemplation. The supposed repetitiveness of his arc, especially early on, may come across as boring to some. But those who pay attention to the smaller details will find themselves swept along by his arc’s methodical pace and deep catharsis. And that, my friends, is why Houjou is the most Agito character in Agito’s entire cast.

6. Tetsuya Sawaki and his enigmatic connection to shouichi

A man walks into a hospital, and the receptionist asks him to sign his name. He grabs a piece of paper and does so, but stops himself just before finishing. The name he’s just written is that of our protagonist: Shouichi Tsugami. After a moment, he throws out the paper. He takes out another one, and, with a sly smirk, signs another name: Tetsuya Sawaki. This is how we’re introduced to one of Agito’s best characters, and likely the show’s most satisfyingly enigmatic one.

Tetsuya’s introductory scene immediately establishes him as having some kind of connection to Shouichi. Astute viewers will notice that their initials are the same, just reversed. The unexplained nature of their connection also pairs well with Shouichi’s amnesia. For all we know, Tetsuya could be someone from Shouichi’s past, someone very close to him, and neither we the audience nor Shouichi know this.

Tetsuya’s mysteriousness makes him a difficult character to write about without spoiling much of the show. The true nature of his connection to Shouichi isn’t revealed until much later, but believe me is it a satisfying reveal. More than that, Tetsuya develops interesting dynamics with a few other characters aside from Shouichi. Chief of these is his dynamic with the main antagonist.

Without saying much, Agito is one of those shows where the protagonist and antagonist rarely meet face-to-face. This isn’t all that uncommon for tokusatsu, whose antagonists are often big bad bosses who hide behind an army of goons. (Think of how long it took Luke to actually meet Emperor Palpatine in the original Star Wars trilogy.) What Agito does, instead of having its antagonist regularly interact with either the heroes or an entourage of lackeys, is split the difference.

Tetsuya isn’t explicitly a hero or a villain, mostly because we don’t initially know what exactly it is that he wants. We vaguely understand the antagonist’s motivation, but we know nothing about Tetsuya’s. Is he a confidant to the antagonist? Or a frenemy? Perhaps a mutually respectful rival? Or, maybe they’re entirely in opposition to each other, but the antagonist keeps Tetsuya around for amusement’s sake, utterly convinced that Tetsuya is powerless to oppose him. Until later on, it’s difficult to tell.

The cinematography also plays a part in Tetsuya’s mysteriousness. Most of his scenes are in low light. Scenes involving Tetsuya are also where the show likes to pull out one of its more curious visual tricks: color filters. Agito loves its color filters, especially in scenes with Tetsuya. Just look at the intense green overlay in the image above.

Most important of all, though, is how Shouichi and Tetsuya conversely embody the main themes of the show. Agito is a show about many things, and one of these things is a rather universal theme for Kamen Rider: hope. Hope is something that Kamen Rider’s heroes tend to have in abundance. Hope was Yusuke’s greatest strength, and it’s one of Shouichi’s greatest strengths, too. Tetsuya’s lack of hope, on the other hand, is exactly the reason he ended up where he is: shrouded in mystery and at the mercy of the show’s antagonist.

5. The atmosphere of mystery

When I first finished Agito, I wrote in my initial review that the show is almost “more of a supernatural mystery than it is a typical tokusatsu.” After watching more tokusatsu since, I’ve realized that the genre is expansive enough that my earlier statement is more of a half-truth than anything else. Still, the point stands. Agito is much more interested in stringing its audience along with a slowly unraveling and multi-layered mystery than it is in exciting them with flashy fights.

The first thing I’ll address about the show’s mystery is its pacing. As I mentioned earlier, a common complaint about Agito, particularly its first half, is that it’s too slow. I strongly disagree. It’s slow, definitely, but not so slow that it detracted from my enjoyment. In fact, the deliberation with which the show unpacks its mystery is… well, it’s what this entry is all about.

Agito is a show where the atmosphere is palpably strong. The monsters are more mysterious than they’ve ever been. They never utter a word, the only sound they make is their animalistic cries. While most tokusatsu shows have monsters who rattle off typical villain talk, it’s definitely not unheard of for the monsters of the week to not have any dialogue. In Agito, however, it feels like a profoundly deliberate choice, done to emphasize the monsters’ otherworldliness. The fact that the antagonist is so vague about his goal, as opposed to how a typical tokusatsu antagonist makes their goal perfectly clear, pairs well with this.

Starting off, the cast is very separated, with the three riders all off in their own worlds. Shouichi has his family, Hikawa has his coworkers, and Ryou… well, Ryou doesn’t have much of anyone. The cast feels like a puzzle with pieces scattered all over the place. But as the show goes on, and characters slowly begin to form naturally deepening relationships, the puzzle slowly starts to fit together. Nothing about this is particularly mysterious, per say, but it enhances the pacing and atmosphere of the show as a whole.

Just as importantly, though, it’s an effective method of allowing characters to keep secrets from certain other characters, but not everyone. You see, a trademark aspect of lead writer Inoue’s writing style, one that a lot of people take issue with, is his love for dramatic irony and miscommunication. I’ll tell you this: whereas in Kuuga, Ichijo realizes very quickly that Yusuke is Kuuga, it takes Hikawa much, much longer to learn that Shouichi is the same Agito that he’s been fighting alongside for quite some time.

Regardless, Agito does an excellent job of employing Inoue’s sensibilities for dramatic irony to enhance its mystery. Characters are hesitant to share their secrets with others, which allows the show’s mystery to continue to grow. This hesitation also means that certain misunderstandings, on part of both the cast as well as the audience, don’t get cleared up until later, which makes room for some rather effective red herrings.

Evidently, a show’s atmosphere is sort of a difficult thing for me to write about. It’s more something you feel than something you can put into words. Perhaps it’s not a common opinion, but I truly think that Agito has one of the most lived-in, visceral atmospheres in television. The way the show sets up its mystery and slowly brings everything together for several emotionally volatile reveals was enough to keep me on the edge of my seat all the way through.

4. The well-defined and low-key action

Complimenting the entry above, I also want to write about what great style Agito’s action does have. As I mentioned before, Agito is a show that doesn’t put a huge amount of stake in its action, being more concerned with its atmosphere. But since this is a tokusatsu, there sort of needs to be at least one action set piece every episode. The way that Agito negotiates this is beautiful.

First, Agito’s fights tend to be short. Shorter than Kuuga’s fights. This decision has the interesting effect of making our heroes seem stronger. They dispatch their enemies with such speed, such efficiency, that we can’t help but marvel at them. This brevity also helps the fights to be more clearly defined. Oftentimes, each enemy monster will have a clear and distinct ability. Whichever rider they are fighting will find some way to counter that ability to emerge victorious. Each fight is a call and response: the monster proposes a question, and the rider provides an answer.

Speaking of clearly defined, no reflection on Agito would be anywhere close to complete without some mention of how well the three riders are balanced. After Kuuga perfected the concept of a single rider fighting by his lonesome, Agito began by incorporating three main characters who are riders. Each one is incredibly unique, both as a character and as a rider.

Agito’s fighting style is mythical and sophisticated. After throwing his punches, he often retains his position instead of returning to a neutral stance. There’s a lot of stopping and starting in Agito’s fights, where he and his opponent gauge each other out. For Hikawa, G3 itself as a highly advanced machine. It fully embraces Kamen Rider’s sci-fi proclivities, to the point where there’s nothing supernatural or otherworldly about G3 at all. Hikawa’s fighting style, on the other hand, is more grounded. Though G3 is so advanced, Hikawa himself is a rather simpleminded person, which creates a satisfying balance. Then there’s Gills, who fights as a feral beast unleashed. His fights are almost always marked by intense, bloodcurdling screams. His appearance tells you all you need to know: whereas Agito looks like an ancient warrior in armor and G3 is a machine, Gills looks significantly more organic and crude. His fighting style is complimentarily brutal.

Agito’s forms are also very low-key. Compared to Kuuga, which dedicated one mini-arc to introducing each of its titular rider’s forms, Agito does so with much less fanfare. For one thing, Agito has three regular forms down from Kuuga’s four. Including his gold base form, there’s his blue form, which uses a staff, and his red form, which uses a sword. And really, these forms aren’t actually “introduced” at all. They’re kind of just accessed without any emphasis, which keeps the action flowing nice and fast.

Indeed, one of the most noteworthy aspects of Agito’s action is how much it contrasts the rest of the show. Whereas most of Agito is slow and deliberate as a way of building a tense and mysterious atmosphere, its action is fast and decisive. But it’s still quite similar in how low-key and deliberate it is, which ties everything together quite nicely.

3. Shouichi and Ryou’s crisscrossing plotlines

As stated before, Agito has three main characters who are riders. They begin separated, each living in their own space and world, but slowly these worlds begin to coalesce. Shouichi is the protagonist, while Hikawa fills a similar function to Ichijo in Kuuga, being both a deuteragonist as well as sort of a “partner” to the protagonist. And then, most unique of all, there’s Ryou. Ryou was extremely one of a kind for his time, and while the abrasive, rivalrous tertiary rider concept has become more popular since, Ryou continues to stand out as one of the best tertiary riders the series has to offer.

Agito’s opening alone tells us everything we need to know about his character. In the show’s first opening (one of Kamen Rider’s best, in my opinion), we get different sections focusing on each of the three riders. Shouichi and Hikawa’s sections feature different characters who are close to them. Shouichi’s section prominently features his foster sister, Mana, while Hikawa’s section features two of his coworkers, those being G3’s creator, Ozawa, and, of course, Houjou. But Ryou’s section features nobody. No one at all. While Shouichi has his family and Hikawa has his coworkers, Ryou is alone.

But while Ryou is a fascinating character in his own right, it’s his evolving dynamic with Shouichi that elevates him from a memorable character to an irreplaceable piece of Agito’s puzzle. While Shouichi and Ryou don’t get to know each other until much later, they have an encounter as early as the first episode. But this encounter is pure circumstance, a trifling, uneventful, nonverbal acknowledgment between two strangers. Just two ships passing in the night, unaware of how destiny will bring them together in the near future.

Shouichi himself is also an incredibly compelling protagonist. In many ways, he’s the least conflicted of the three riders. Hikawa, of course, struggles to keep fighting against beings with powers he doesn’t have, while Ryou’s conflict is simply more intense and cruel than Shouichi’s. What Shouichi does have, though, is amnesia. To most characters, this would be something of a curse, something that would cause the character to feel lost. But Shouichi never suffers from this negativity. You see, Shouichi is someone who I like to think of as sophisticatedly simpleminded. He’s simpleminded, for sure, but not because he’s unaware or naïve. Shouichi chooses to be simpleminded because, to him, the world is simply beautiful. His profound love for nature and its garden reminds us that there’s beauty all around us, we just have to open our eyes to see it. It reminds Ryou, as well. And a good thing, too, since he’s the character who needs to hear it the most.

Shouichi’s clear dynamic with Hikawa also helps to inform his more enigmatic dynamic with Ryou. While Shouichi and Hikawa each have their own unique quirks, they are both men of strong and just character. Like Yusuke and Ichijo, they’re both heroes in their own ways. As riders, though, they’re almost opposites. Similar as people, but different as riders.

Shouichi and Ryou, then, are close to the opposite. While Ryou isn’t a villain, not by a long shot, his personality is quite different from Shouichi’s. Whereas Shouichi is a people person, Ryou is a loner. Whereas Shouichi is an optimist, Ryou is a pessimist. Shouichi’s love for the light around us juxtaposes Ryou’s fixation on the darkness that lies within human hearts. They’re both victims, but Shouichi refuses to dwell on that. Ryou is certainly willing to fight, but he’s also a bit self-defeating. As riders, though, they’re quite similar, being distinct from Hikawa in that their transformations are ingrained supernatural abilities and not external. Similar as riders, different as people.

These differences in character provide the backbone of their evolving dynamic. Their differing priorities set them down different paths, but when their paths do intersect, there’s bound to be conflict. When this conflict is between Shouichi and Ryou, it often results in some of the most introspective dialogue that the show has to offer. And when it’s between Agito and Gills, it rewards us with some wonderfully intense rider versus rider fights. How their dynamic and character conflict grows over the course of the show is something to behold. But of course, that’s not some I’m going to spoil here.

2. Makoto Hikawa, the first secondary rider

Hikawa is the first true secondary rider in Kamen Rider history. Typically, you’d expect that it’d take some time for this sort of addition to a long-running series to be done just right, but such is not the case with Agito. Through and through, Hikawa is easily one of the absolute best secondary riders that Kamen Rider has to offer. Not only is he perfect playing second to Shouichi, he’s also a truly legendary character on his own.

A few times in this article, I’ve referred to Hikawa as sort of a successor to Ichijo. Both are policemen, possess no supernatural powers, are key allies to the protagonist, and have a strong, unshakeable sense of justice. The most important difference between them, as you’d expect, is that the G3 suit allows Hikawa to fight on a relatively even playing field with Agito and the monsters, whereas Ichijo is always one step behind in terms of physical strength. All this is not to say, however, that Hikawa is by any means uninspired, or that he’s exactly the same as Ichijo. In fact, Hikawa’s comedic clumsiness makes for a very amusing contrast to Ichijo’s stiff seriousness.

The underlying source of nearly all of Hikawa’s conflict is, fittingly enough, his inferiority complex. Sure, G3 allows him to fight relatively evenly against supernatural beings, but that’s the suit’s power, not his own. Hikawa is smart, and a good detective, but he’s also clumsy. Houjou’s pressure means that he can never let his guard down or show any weakness. Like Ichijo, Hikawa is troubled in his own way. But whereas Ichijo’s inner turmoil came from how frighteningly good he is at combat, Hikawa’s is the opposite. Hikawa constantly grapples with the feeling that he’s not good enough.

Tying into this is the fact that Hikawa is one of the few (maybe the only?) rider without a proper henshin sequence (wherein a character strikes a cool pose and shouts “Transform!” before, well, transforming). This is, of course, because Hikawa doesn’t transform at all, he just puts on a mechanical suit. The implication, then, is that there’s nothing intrinsically tying Hikawa to G3. Whereas Shouichi and Ryou are inseparable from Agito and Gills, anyone grown enough to fit into the G3 suit can wear it. And indeed, several characters other than Hikawa do so. If anyone can wear the G3 suit, is there any reason to say that Hikawa is G3? Is there any reason to say that he’s a Kamen Rider at all?

The answer, my friends, is a resounding yes. The simple fact of the matter is that Hikawa IS G3, the same way that almost any other Kamen Rider title belongs to one person and one person only. This isn’t because of any biological fact or something like that. It’s because Hikawa is the only character truly worthy of G3. His profound selflessness and willingness to throw himself into danger without hesitation just to save an innocent life make him arguably more heroic than Shouichi. Hikawa doesn’t have to fight, but he does.

And here’s another important detail. You see, there’s actually an in-canon reason as to why G3 is so consistent with the regular Kamen Rider design. Remember how Agito is technically a sequel to Kuuga? Well, when building a mechanical suit to protect humanity from supernatural threats, who do you think the suit’s creator based the design off of? Who else, if not the brave hero who saved the world from another supernatural threat years earlier? As such, Hikawa carries not only Ichijo’s torch, but also Yusuke’s. I’m certain he’d make both of them proud.

I’ll wrap up this section by saying that I’m someone whose favorite character in most stories tends to almost always be the protagonist. It’s a boring tendency, perhaps, but as someone who’s very invested in character growth and complex arcs, it makes sense. With pretty much every other show on this list, this tendency holds true. And believe me, I love Shouichi a huge ton… But, just maybe, there’s a chance that Hikawa is the exception to that rule.

1. The show’s main theme: That change is frightening but beautiful

Kamen Rider is a series about many things, but as I’ve stated before, it’s a series about one thing above all: hope. While individual Kamen Rider shows vary in maturity level, each hero almost always comes from a place of tragedy. Misfortunate has befallen them, but instead of despairing, they use their newfound powers to become a symbol of hope. A Kamen Rider, by their nature, is a constant, someone who you can always trust to do what’s right. But life isn’t always that simple. Sometimes, it might feel comforting to think of life as a series of episodic adventures, all supported by a reliable status quo. Not necessarily something unexciting, but something where we’re never pushed out of our fundamental comfort zone.

Agito is arguably the first Kamen Rider show to be entirely serialized, and it embraces this evolution subtextually as well as metatextually. Agito is a notable change from the shows before it, both in obvious and unobvious ways. As mentioned before, it’s the first Kamen Rider show to feature multiple main riders. But this addition allows for the breaking of other established formula rules, such as the idea that every episode must contain at least one scene of the protagonist’s transformed state. Due to Hikawa and Ryou’s narrative importance, the show occasionally makes the inspired choice to relegate Shouichi to a more supporting role, which ultimately culminates in the episode’s ending fight being fought by someone else.

For as many barriers as Kuuga broke down, there was still new ideas to try. In a general sense, this is one of the reasons why my four favorite shows are what they are. Each is a trailblazer in its own right.

But the importance of change in Agito obviously isn’t just a commentary on the series. It’s something that the characters struggle with, too. The contrasting ways in which different characters react to change is emphasized by the narrative, all in service of the show’s powerful core theme. Some characters, like Shouichi, embrace change, and find solace in life’s constants: the sun, the grass, the wind. Others, like Hikawa, yearn for the ability to change the unchangeable. And others yet, like Ryou and Houjou, are fearful of change altogether.

At this point, I feel like I have to issue a content warning. For those that don’t know me, let me say this loud and clear: transgender rights are human rights. With that said, please be warned that the next few paragraphs of this entry are going to talk about suicide and the suicide epidemic among transgender people.

Throughout history, many minority groups have been ostracized and victimized. Whether they be Romani, Jews, Africans, any group within the LGBT spectrum, or otherwise, these victimizations occur because of both people’s fear of the unknown as well as their fear of change. This isn’t an excuse, of course, it’s simply an explanation. Currently, one of these identity groups facing this victimization is transgender people. While minority groups that are either racial or religious can typically turn to their families for support, the unique challenge faced by LGBT people is that they often don’t have any social support to speak of. As such, suicide is unfortunately far too common among LGBT people, especially transgender people.

As such, I feel that Agito‘s message about change is one that lends itself very well to a pro-transgender allegory. Suicide is brought up surprisingly often in Agito, typically as a response to great change. Characters feel that they are going to change so intensely that they will no longer be themselves anymore. So, instead of living on as someone else, they choose to die as themselves. The idea that who they are changing into is not “who they really are” is as much their own perspective as it is their own perception of how others see them.

But Agito goes to great lengths to remind us that change is not something we should reject so strongly. Change is frightening, yes. Sometimes we may feel as though we no longer recognize ourselves, other times we may worry that no one else will recognize us. But change is also beautiful. Nature, with all its constants, is still always changing. Change is life. When we are able to embrace change, and see new things for what they really are, then we will finally find that thing that Kamen Rider is all about. We’ll finally have true hope.

Thank you all so much for joining me this week. EDIT: While I was planning on releasing my Kamen Rider Ryuki entry on the 15th, I’m going to have to delay it to the 22nd. Thank you for your patience!