Hello Peliplaters!
For many viewers, Nobita is the quintessential anti-hero. He lacks typical protagonist qualities: he has poor grades, average looks, and a weak personality. Without Doraemon by his side, he'd seem utterly useless, with no future prospects. While many people adore Doraemon, few would claim to like Nobita. In the Doraemon stories, Nobita often serves as a foil to highlight Doraemon's capabilities.
I was no different from the rest. For years, I believed I continued watching this series solely because of Doraemon. I amassed Doraemon merchandise and frequently daydreamed about meeting my own Doraemon who'd solve all my problems, just as he did for Nobita. Nobita himself, on the other hand, held no significance in my life.
However, my perspective shifted when I watched Stand by Me Doraemon. In this movie, Doraemon completes his mission of caring for Nobita and is summoned back to the future, potentially leaving Nobita forever. This scenario is undoubtedly heartbreaking for fans. Yet, it was this very turn of events that made me realize that, more than Doraemon, I truly cared about Nobita.
Without Doraemon's protection, Nobita is beaten badly by Gian. Yet, he clings tenaciously to Gian's leg—refusing to give up until he emerges victorious. This moment moved me deeply because I realized Nobita's determination to defeat Gian wasn't about proving his strength without Doraemon's help, but about ensuring Doraemon could live peacefully after leaving him. Nobita knows that if he showed any weakness, Doraemon would undoubtedly return to help.
Inexplicably, I found myself desperately hoping for Nobita's success, even though it meant potentially losing Doraemon from the story for good.
Growing up without a father, my mother devoted considerable time to teaching me the expected qualities of a good man. The challenge was that while I understood which actions embodied these qualities, I often lacked the motivation to commit to them. I sought guidance from adult male figures, but in reality, the men I encountered were often at extremes—either exceptionally reserved or overly flamboyant. Either way, I struggled to find the answers I was seeking.
Frequently, I faced the same dilemma as Nobita; I knew the right course of action but couldn't achieve it. Consequently, I sought temporary emotional refuge by watching the Doraemon stories.
Once, I witnessed a little boy learning to walk in the park. Frightened, he constantly sought his father's help. He tumbled repeatedly, and each time, his father encouraged him to rise to his feet. After another fall, the boy burst into tears. His pitiful cries left me wondering: was he reproaching his father's cruelty, or lamenting his own failure? I mused that if Doraemon were present, he'd likely produce a gadget that could instantly teach him how to walk.
But the boy's father wasn't Doraemon and possessed no magical tools. He approached his son gently and helped him up while comforting him. He then guided him for a few steps and praised his effort along the way, before releasing him and urging him to walk independently. In that moment, the father's image merged with Doraemon's in my mind—both encouraging their charges in remarkably similar ways.
Observing this scene, I pondered: how many falls must this child endure before mastering the art of walking? By extension, how many mistakes must a boy make before truly becoming a man?
My thoughts drifted to the bruised and battered Nobita. It seems that he faces failure in every episode of the TV series, each instance more embarrassing than the last. From any angle, Nobita appears incapable of becoming a dependable man. He comes across more as a cautionary tale. Yet, like the toddler learning to walk, Nobita never truly surrenders. He may embarrass himself, cry, and behave in ways deemed unmanly, but when given the chance to display courage, he never hesitates.
Nobita isn't naturally gifted. For those lacking innate talent, the path to success is paved with repeated failures. At its core, the ability to be relied upon is merely an outcome. The real challenge lies in maintaining a steadfast willingness to be relied upon—a feat far from simple. In retrospect, it seems every Doraemon episode conveys this message in its unique way.
Compared to Suneo's "cleverness" and Gian's "strength," Nobita indeed appears childish and weak. Yet, in Stand By Me Doraemon, Nobita's journey to manhood is quintessentially boyish: he falls and cries, then rises and perseveres afterward. Suneo and Gian would never allow themselves such vulnerability. Their pride in their respective superior qualities prevents them from risking embarrassment. Always boasting of their manliness, how could they possibly act like immature boys? It's precisely this fear of facing failure that prevents them from giving their all.
I've come to believe it's the childlike quality of being fearless in the face of failure that ultimately allowed Nobita to embrace adulthood wholeheartedly.
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