Warning – plenty of spoilers ahead. Please watch episode 22 of Your Lie in April before reading this article.
The final episode was Your Lie in April was wonderful – a heartwarming, moving second half joined together with a beautifully animated, wonderfully musical first half to create a memorable finale. Indeed, it was a tale of two halves, with that inevitable event separating them. I’ll wax more on the second half in a follow-up post, but first, let’s talk about the first 12 minutes of episode 22.
As Kousei performs his piece, putting all his heart into the performance, he imagines Kaori playing next to him. It’s a wonderful, happy scene, as we get to see Kaori’s frenetic playing for the first time in many episodes – many months for us as an audience – accompanying an emotional Kousei, who is optimistic that he will play with Kaori once again.
But in the midst of the performance, as he stares at the image of Kaori in his head, Kousei realizes that she will not survive. In some “red string of fate” way, he even feels their connection severed, as if Kaori literally died on the surgery table with doctors working over her while Kousei (probably) wins the recital as he plays over the piano keys. Kaori completes her playing and she slowly fades away into oblivion, as Kousei can do nothing but break down and cry as he finishes his own piece.
Kaori is gone. The series plays her death in a beautiful, symbolic way with their final song together – a duet instead of a solo and accompaniment. But perhaps this tender way of letting Kaori go tells us something more. Maybe it tells us that Kousei must go on, that he will go on, and that Kaori has prepared him so. Read the rest of this entry
I’ve been meaning to watch Ookami-san to Shichinin no Nakama-tachi (Okami-san and her Seven Companions) for a while. This twelve-episode anime draws heavily on fairy and folk tales, and my love for these classic stories never dies. I finally watched it this past week. It was… decent, once the narrator’s voice stopped annoying me. The title character, Ookami Ryoko, is part of Otagi Bank, a school club that does favors for “clients,” with the expectation that said clients will return the favors when called upon. The characters go on adventures of varying difficulty (the delinquent school in town provides danger), and it’s generally a fun club anime that unapologetically mixes tropes, stereotypes, and well-known tales.
Otagi Bank members help their schoolmates out for a cost, but they have their fair share of trials themselves. The fourth episode, “Ōkami-san and Otsū-senpai’s Favor Repayments,” confronts the idea of favors among friends. One of the secondary characters, Tsurugaya Otsuu, is obsessed with returning favors. When Ryoushi, the main male character, saves her from from getting hit by a stray baseball, she insists on becoming his maid… and I don’t mean just doing a bit of housecleaning, either. After all, Ryoushi saved her. She goes above and beyond, even sleeping in his little one-room apartment so that she will be available to tend to every perceived need. Ryoushi is so uncomfortable with this arrangement, he can’t sleep. Yet she is too worried about returning the favor to realize that he really just wants her to let him sleep in peace.
Otsuu has a tragic back story to go with her obsession: when she was younger, an older brother figure died saving her from being hit by a car. She can never repay him for his sacrifice. Instead, she is determined to repay all other perceived debts in her life. Otsuu overworks herself trying to repay Ryoushi. He goes to the Otagi Bank’s president with the problem. The group of friends comes up with a plan: do so many favors for Otsuu, even she can see that it’s impossible to repay them. The first step of the plan? Dress up as maids and wait on her hand and foot for an entire day. Of course, at the end of the day, she says that she’ll try to repay each of them for what they’ve done. They tell her that it’s impossible, and even if she did manage to repay the favor, they’d do even more for her, so the cycle would never end. They explain that since they are friends, helping each other out is only natural. Otagi Bank might be founded on a system of favor and debt, but the group’s members themselves need no such thing. There are no favors between friends.
This plot idea isn’t new. Many anime, movies, and TV shows include characters who are too proud or insecure to get help from others, or who feel they must repay every nice thing that’s done for them. (Arakawa Under the Bridge comes to mind, though I’ve only seen an episode or two of that.) They don’t know how to accept kindness with no strings attached. After years of watching these characters learn about friendship and kindness, I’ve finally realized how much I have to learn myself. Among my family, I don’t hesitate to ask for anything. But I’m more awkward with friends and classmates: If I accept an offer of food, but never give food in return or offer further friendship, is that rude? If they write me a note on my birthday, or just because they want to encourage me, doesn’t that mean I have to do the same? If I write a kind note or do something else for them, will they see it as more than passing kindness? I really can’t offer much companionship as a friend right now! Will I make them feel obligated? I don’t expect anything back, not even deeper friendship, I just want to do this one thing.
It’s kind of ridiculous. Read the rest of this entry
Have you been keeping up with the happenings in Bleach?
The manga has become fairly intense, and after all this time, the story’s become exciting again. I haven’t been a fan of the series since early in the arc involving Aizen, but I just can’t help but to consume the manga in chunks every half a year or so just to keep up with the characters I once followed so closely. Right now, the world (as the Soul Reapers know it) is coming to an end after the death of one specific character. But never to fear, because of course, Ichigo is here!
And as is the tradition for a shounen, fight ‘em series, he comes to
maybe probably certainly save the day after having done some training. Rukia and Renji have done the same. Maybe Chad and Orihime, too, though to be honest, I’m not clear on their storylines.
It’s no surprise that we see this type of storyline again and again in anime and manga – whether it be for physical breakthroughs, as in Dragonball Z or Naruto, or more emotional ones, as you might see in “training camp” retreats in series like Oofuri or Bamboo Blade. The opportunity to get away from the world leads one to cut out distractions and focus on a specific task at hand.
For Christians, there’s an added element. Not only can you cut out the noise, but in the quiet and stillness of a retreat – both from the environment outside and in one’s heart, you can perhaps hear God. What is he saying to you? What does he want you to do? And how will you respond?
I can’t remember the last time I watched a series that was as consistently excellent as Shirobako. I’ve not been let down by any episode – they’re all terrific. But this week, we might have gotten something a little better, a little more special. There’s some Shirobako-style fanservice in episode 19, in the image of a young Marukawa, Sugie, and Ookura; the return of Yano; and new relationship dynamics, like that between Yano and Hiraoka.
More significantly, we finally get a breakthrough moment for our main character, Miyamori. Though honestly, I was a little confused, as I wasn’t sure what the series was trying to tell us about career fulfillment for Miyamori. Is it that if you go full steam ahead, you’ll find your dream? Or is it that the dream is in the here and now? Or maybe it’s that if you find something you love, like how Miyamori feels about anime because of her connections to it, you’ll learn to love it?
For someone like me, who’s already established in a career, another lesson was most striking: when things are difficult, and you don’t know the way – in the big picture or in the small – there is a reason, and as you make wise decisions, there is a good end in sight, even if you don’t know what that good end is.
The new season of anime has brought another idol anime (think less heathen idols and more American Idol): specifically, another anime based on the iDOLM@STER franchise of idol-based video games. Cinderella Girls focuses on a new group of 14 girls, in particular focusing on the three newest members of the “Cinderella Project” group at 346 Productions: Uzuki, Rin, and Mio. Shortly after they are brought on board the project, they are put on the fast track to stardom as they are assigned roles as backup dancers for an established idol, and soon after that (in the most recent episode 5) are chosen to have their CD debut (along with two other members, Minami and Anastasia). This is all very exciting for these three, but not everyone is entirely happy with their success.
Miku is probably the most vocally displeased with how these three girls have gotten to have their idol debut already, when she has been with the project longer than they have. She challenges the girls to various games to try to take their place, tries to persuade the producer with her own debut proposal, and when all else fails, she “goes on strike” to make her case (and by “goes on strike”, she means blockading the company’s cafeteria). Her actions may be comical, but her frustration is very understandable: not only has she been practicing for a long time with no sign of her debut coming, but now she sees these three girls enter the project after her and get their debut before her–of course that would be disheartening.
Christians might also encounter a situation like what Miku goes through. They pray to God and seek after Him for something, whether that be a spouse, a promotion, or a special ministry opportunity, but God seems to remain silent about their request. This is discouraging enough as it is, but it only gets worse when they see their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, especially those who have been in the faith shorter than they have, get married, promoted, or enter ministry before they do. They know they should be happy for them, but instead they start to feel resentful toward their fellow Christians or toward God. Their faith starts to waver as they wonder, “When will my time come?”
With the Your Lie in April (Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso) manga coming to an end, the birth pains are being felt in the anime version as well. In episode 16, more than in any other, we see how debilitating Kaori’s illness is to her, and become more assured that her disease is fatal.
In recent episodes, Kaori has been largely absent; she’s been relegated to background. The action has been proceeding without her (even in this episode, the story development is as hurried as ever, as we find out more about Nagi’s personality and a surprise, that she’s Takeshi’s little sister) as she literally withers away. But in this episode, Kaori retakes her place as a center of the story, and where we once saw brief hints and images of her frailty, we now see her quickly losing her motor skills, including in the image that struck me most, of Kaori dropping her bow, unable to hold her beloved instrument.
I was reminded of a friend of a friend who recently and suddenly loss her husband to a heart attack. He left behind two children with disabilities, including one has profound physical disabilities associated with a disease that will eventually take his life. More than ever, that family has to deal with the painful message that life is short; there is no time to spare.
Certainly there’s a message to be seen here – one we encounter in plenty of different shows and movies: we don’t know how much time is left, so live life to the fullest.
First of all, many thanks to TWWK for inviting me to join this site. For my first post on here, I thought I would repost a post I made a long time ago on my own blog, A Series of Miracles. This post is a very personal subject for me, and I think it will also serve well as an introduction to me and my own history with Christ.
Osananajimi is a Japanese term that translates to “childhood friend”, and indeed means just that. In and of itself, the term has no romantic connotations and can refer to any unrelated person, male or female, with or without romantic connections, with whom a person has grown up with. From what I gather, culturally the Japanese value those whom they have grown up with as having a special connection with them, and as such, the childhood friend has been a popular character in classical fiction, including as a romantic interest.
In the world of anime and related media, though, the popularity of the osananajimi as a romantic interest largely comes from their use in dating sims and visual novels, particularly Shiori Fujisaki in Tokimeki Memorial and Akari Kamigishi in To Heart. (Also worth noting is Kanon, which likely helped popularize the “meeting with childhood friend after a long time apart” variation.) Since then, theosananajimi has been a common character in all sorts of anime, manga, and the like, with some recent examples including Rihoko Sakurai in Amagami, Chiwa Harusaki in OreShura, Manami Tamura in OreImo, and… well, the entire core cast of AnoHana.
As for why this character is so popular, I would say it’s because they exemplify a lot of traits—faithfulness, ability to love despite imperfections, ability to be open with each other, and a deep sense of intimacy that comes from a well-developed friendship—that are very desirable in any romantic partner.
The osananajimi has been one of my favorite character types since very early in my anime-watching experience, though that is very largely in part due to one obscure, unlicensed (and probably will never be licensed) visual novel adaptation called Lamune, which even now has one of my favorite portrayals of a childhood friend romance in anime. As for why I like such characters—and their romances—so much… that is a good question. It’s not like I have any female childhood friends myself that I wish I could be with, nor do I particularly care about finding one again in the first place.
The aforementioned desirable qualities of a romantic partner could be a factor. However, after some consideration, it became clear to me why I like osananajimi characters so much.
It’s because they remind me of my relationship with God. Read the rest of this entry
One of the more interesting series this season is Junketsu no Maria, which I became aware of through my friend Alexander, of Ashita no Anime. The first group of links below discuss the series’ tone toward Catholicism and the Catholic Church, and join another gaggle of terrific posts about religion from anibloggers this week.
Junketsu no Maria is stirring a lot of discussion, particularly as it relates to its anti-Catholic tone. [Mage in a Barrel]
Draggle, on the other hand, sees it a bit differently. [Draggle’s Anime Blog]
The series also brings to brings this thought to the forefront – why does God let evil and pain exist? [Joeschmo’s Gears and Grounds]
Though E Minor doubts whether this series will bring any depth regarding religious discussion at all. [Moe Sucks]
Kuroshitsuji demonstrates an interesting biblical idea – that through faith, man can “defeat” demons. [Old Line Elephant]
Sensuality, food…and God? Koufuku Graffiti brings these threads together surprisingly well. [A Series of Miracles]
Assassination Classroom is part of anime’s declaration that teacher are so very important, an idea which the Bible also emphasizes. [A Series of Miracles]
Shingeki no Bahamut does many things well, including demonstrating the four kinds of love, as given by C.S. Lewis. [Medieval Otaku]
Casey Covel gives Bleach a middling review, and provides in-depth analysis for Christians as they approach the series. [Geeks Under Grace]
In somewhat of a story-like manner, Tofugu continues his chronicle of the history of Christianity in Japan. [Tofugu]
As part of the Something More series of posts, each week Beneath the Tangles links to writings about anime and manga that involve religion and spirituality. If you’ve written such a piece or know of one, please email TWWK if you’d like it included
Much of the action in episode 14 of Your Lie in April (Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso) takes place in a confined space – the bare walls of a small hospital room. But while the action in this episode is passive, our protagonist’s thoughts are moving a mile a minute. Two trains of thought are hurtling through Arima’s mind – the first is a fearful one, as he again worries that he’ll lose someone so dear to him. The second, though almost overtaken by the first in this episode, remains hopeful, as Arima continues to be fully drawn toward Kaori, determining that she again lifted him up, having selected the previous piano piece specifically for him.
As Arima explains his performance to Kaori in this episode, it seems that he hasn’t fully processed it. The audience, though, has – we witnessed how he struggled through it and came out shining. But we remember, maybe better than Arima, that it was a struggle, even before the recital, as haunting memories came flooding back to him (remember that Arima kept telling Kaori he didn’t want to play this piece). But in the pain, there was meaning.
There was a reason Kaori chose this song for Arima.
Celestial Method (Sora no Method) has a lot going for it – cute characters, emotional storylines, and a nice OP and ED (speaking of which, see and hear our own Japes sax up the show’s end theme). But I can’t say that the series is unique in any sense. It revisits a lot of motifs, themes, plot lines, and characterizations from other similar works, and episode nine is no different. With Shione realizing that Noel is going to disappear after the group’s wish is granted, she does what might be expected of such a character – she sacrifices her own needs for the group, and she does so by trying to chase Nonoka away by speaking more harsh words.
Still, that’s all within the bounds of Shione’s character. For being such a cool cat, in a lot of ways, she’s the least mature member of the group. She has trouble making friends; she can’t let go of grudges; she internalizes all her pain; and she’s unable to take a leap forward for fear of what it might mean.
And so, instead of doing what Nonoka might, and explaining to the rest what is going to occur and sharing the pain with them, Shione takes all the burden upon herself. Feeling guilty because it was originally her wish that set these events in motion, fearful of establishing trust with her friends, and retreating into her self-imposed isolation, reflected through her constant shuttering of the outside world through her headphones and also containing a tinge of pride that says “I know how to handle this best,” Shione pushes everyone away once again.
It’s this action that shows how much Shione still has to grow.