SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 13 OF TOWER OF GOD

The internet spoiled the big betrayal at the conclusion of this season, but by the first episode, I was expecting it, something like it at least. And I think that was the creator’s intention too. This was mainly because they had kept Rachel’s motivations so close to their chest, so I presumed that there was something worth learning that would change my perspective of her. When Rachel pushed Bam off the edge I just wanted the next episode to come and tell me why, and thankfully it did.

People seem to really despise Rachel, but I don’t. She’s not a particularly good person, but she’s not an egregiously bad one, and I do wonder if there’s more to why she wants to see the stars so desperately. But Rachel was condemned for things completely beyond her control, and then the rabbit man and the director both manipulated her into divulging the worst parts of herself. She’s just a pawn in their game, and it’s clear that betraying Bam has destroyed her psyche.

Like the way they talked to her just because she dared to ‘step out of place’, calling her pathetic and shameless, and coaxing her into thinking the only chance she had was to kill Bam… Clearly the people running this show are super fucked up manipulative religious nutjobs. The director and the rabbit man were amused by Rachel’s act that they themselves planted as an ultimatum in her mind. They aren’t acting as though this had to happen. They just think it’s good drama. To put all the hate on Rachel is also downplaying Bam’s last words of the season. Bam himself hasn’t allowed the Tower to shape his mindset and take it’s tests for granted as valid or even right.

TOG didn’t grip me much for most of the season until this final episode where a lot of the things that were planted really started to shine. I like this dynamic playing out where we have this expected response that the show is trying to condition the viewers into expecting, despite the whole thing being horridly fucked up. I like how Rachel is an undesirable because she doesn’t possess an affinity for some strange magic god juice.

But also I love how Lero Ro has also begun to question why the tower is the way it is. I have a feeling that the rabbit man is the god king himself, but regardless, for the entire season, Bam hasn’t really done anything that required him to change until the very last moments of the season. While I would agree that Bam is a good person and if anyone should climb the tower, it should be him, but let’s not kid ourselves that Bam hasn’t had the entire carpet laid out for him from the beginning. Bam and Rachel were presented with the same test to enter, but Bam had explicit help from two people who did so on a whim. Rachel had no such help. Bam did do something brave when he entered the fish’s stomach, but he didn’t do it alone. He went in with a weapon, he went in with encouragement, because he just happened to have the right affinity for some weird god juice and the crazy zealots covet it. But we don’t think of them as crazy zealots because they seem so intelligence, so collected. They seem like that *should* be in charge because that’s how they carry themselves.

Rachel on the other hand had no help, no encouragement, no weapon. Even if she did the only thing Bam did: be brave and go in, 100% chance she would have died. Period, that’s not her being a coward, that’s her not being suicidal. And she herself made the perfectly valid claim that this was an absurd, impossible test. Why would we hate her for what she did when, from the very getgo, she was never even given the hint of opportunity? Why should Bam get to have the potential to literally have the power of gods, while she has to be happy with her place? That’s not to say that Bam’s good nature hasn’t been a key component to his later success, but let’s not pretend like that would mean something if he didn’t have strong Shinsu. Without the Shinsu, he would be as worthless to the tower as Rachel. There’s a clear disconnect the show creates between what is and isn’t his merit, and it’s clear his merit alone isn’t enough to climb the tower. We judge that Rachel didn’t “try” so she has no right to complain, Bam made it so why judge him? But that’s absurd, that is ignoring any sensible approach to the situation which Rachel did.

I think most people in Rachel’s position, the position of someone who just got dealt shit cards, would be seething with envy. Which she does in copious amounts. But even then, it’s clear Rachel cares about Bam the whole way through, but she feels so incredibly inadequate and hopeless because of the Tower’s incomprehensible standards. Why is Shinsu important? Why is it so important that if someone doesn’t have it, they have no right to want a fighting chance, that if they even humor the thought that they should be talked down to like garbage? I feel like that’s sort of the central idea behind the first season, and maybe the whole series if it continues this way.

The show consistently puts Rachel, until the final episode, in a lens of suspicion and dislike.

Liking Bam is easy, Bam is likeable, but according to everyone, Rachel should be happy being the object of his affections. Rachel should be happy staying in her place and being the nice young lady with a valiant knight. God forbid she wants to be a knight herself, that she would want to be loved and thought of as courageous, for people to think she’s valuable. She’s a “very lucky girl“. And it’s true that she made the wrong choice, she threw away the only person who saw her that way, that saw her as special; but can we really say that Bam was actually good for her? That it was enough? Bam wasn’t a person Rachel could honestly and emotionally communicate with. Bam was a puppy that held her up to an impossible pedestal that everyone else decided, based on their own prejudices and protectiveness of Bam, that she didn’t belong on. Bam is a good person, a very kind one, but sometimes kindness can really hurt, especially if someone believes they don’t really deserve it, which the Tower’s employees have done all they can to make Rachel believe that.

Bam, in his good nature, isolated Rachel because she never felt like she had room to be flawed, mixed with the distance and dislike everyone else treated her with, which resulted in self loathing and has destroyed her sense of identity.

And if we say that Rachel should be happy in her place as Bam’s object of affection, carrying her all the way up the Tower while she sits back and relaxes and fosters all the hatred of everyone around her for not ‘deserving it’, aren’t we then buying right into the fucked up, subjective standard that the Tower imposes on people?

If you need to climb a tower to the heavens and go through tests that would leave Hercules at a loss, just to see a starry sky, can you imagine what being at the bottom must feel like? The show is very lacking in worldbuilding, particularly outside the Tower, and while that did bother me at first, now I understand why. If we did we could feel more confident saying who ‘deserves’ to reach the top. The only snippets we get about life outside, comes from the people themselves and very vague surroundings. But now we have to trust that people are telling the truth about where they come from and build an understanding of what their past really means by engaging with them.

We wrongly assign that Bam ‘succeeded’ in episode 1 because we are used to the fairy tale, mythological concept that ‘because Bam is brave, Bam passed the test.’ But, that’s a trick we play on ourselves. We say that because it romanticizes a victory for the person we want to succeed. Bam was brave, to the point of stupid, and it was only because he had the tower throw him some help and literally randomly have the most potent latent god juice we’ve seen so far that he succeeded. And this is actually the case for most of this. But no test conductor says this. Bam won because he was lucky. That’s pretty much it. Maybe we can say after the first test his personality has helped him, but without essentially getting a free pass that Rachel did not get, it’s a moot point cause he never would have made it just like Rachel never would have.

We say that Bam deserves to climb because he’s a good person. Everyone else, not as much, but they deserve to climb because they can. They seem capable to fight and pass tests. And everyone else? Well, they’re a Rachel. They’re a liability.

Rachel saved Bam’s life. She is explicitly the reason he is the protagonist, and her saving him and treating him with kindness, is the entire reason Bam is the lovely person he is. Let’s not forget that.

It’s relatively rare for an anime to get what we’ve come to call the “Brotherhood Treatment”(owing its name to the remake of the critically acclaimed Fullmetal Alchemist anime whose first anime failed to produce a faithful adaptation to its original manga, the remake being titled Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood to distinguish it). But while we were all pleasantly surprised to hear Fruits Basket was coming back to the screen to make up for its short-lived 1 season run over a decade ago, in retrospect, it was clear if any show would get the treatment, Fruits Basket seemed like an easy contender even obvious.

The classic early 2000s shoujo was a hallmark of my generation of anime fans growing up. A romantic comedy drama about the lives of Tohru Honda, a warmhearted and wise protagonist who is essentially who Paddington would be if he were a teenage anime girl with a tragic backstory, Yuki Soma, their local high school’s androgynous pretty boy with a tragic backstory, and Kyo Soma, their local high school’s bad boy with a tragic backstory; and the love triangle which ensues between them. It’s hard not to be charmed by at least one of the enormous cast of colorful characters, from Shigure’s cartoonishly anguished editor to the angsty but thoughtful Haru Soma to Tohru’s down-to-earth best friends Arisa and Saki, it’s no question that the diversity and depth of its cast lead to its tremendous success.

But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. The more serious matter at hand is clearly in the title, because what comes from every teenage girl’s romance love triangle? That’s right, you get your camps of who gets to put a ring on our can-do-no-wrong main protagonist. And this has to be one of the most intense discussions of our generation:

Team Yuki? Or Team Kyo?

Well dear reader, don’t you worry, I’ve decided to take it upon myself to make it clear to all newcomers and old viewers/readers who lost their way what the truly right decision is. I know how difficult it must be for all the teenagers these days watching this show, particularly those with a fondness for guys. So here, as someone who has never officially dated anyone in her entire life, I will generously lay out to you why, truthfully, Yuki is the best choice for Tohru.

Point #1: Yuki will do his taxes.

Now younger readers, you might be thinking: “Why is this the first point?” or “What the fuck?” and that’s nice, it means your local economic system hasn’t sucked out your soul just yet. But please consider this, Yuki is a responsible young man, it’s part of his charm as a “princely” type. He’s studious, formal, and proper in his actions. Yuki manages his time well and is frequently shown studying hard and earning the admiration of his fellow students. On top of this, being superior in martial arts requires as much study as anything else. Neverminding almost all of this stemming from the psychological trauma he suffered due to the abusive head of the clan, Akito, this all points to a singular predictive truth about Yuki: He would absolutely do his taxes.

I mean honestly can you really tell me he wouldn’t? Of course he would, he would also be on top of tax rebates and making sure you and him, and whatever kids you may or may not have get the most for their money as he would certainly have read up on tax laws for the most productive household. Anything to keep away from Akito.

This may not seem important right now in the thick of things, but trust me ladies, gentlemen, and anyone in between, you’ll appreciate it when you’re older. Tohru clearly deserves such financial security after being through the economic and emotional hardship she’s endured. Would you really deny her that?

Point #2: Yuki is accommodating.

Yuki is a sweetheart, Tohru is a sweetheart; is that not enough? Really though, Yuki is not one prone to outburst (unless it’s Kyo or his older brother), and always keeps the mood of his prospective (and therefore we can deduce his official) lover in mind. As we saw when they were on a trip, Yuki knew exactly how to set a mood, he cleans up nicely and leads Tohru to a scenic spot on the bridge before giving a cheesy but adorable line. His language is inclusive, comparing her as a princess seeing as everyone at school calls him a prince, he’s clearly socially aware and adapts that to the benefit of his partner. In other words, if your kid turns out to be queer, he’ll be a dear.

Point #3: Yuki does things with Tohru

It’s no secret that the secret to a good relationship is two people enjoying spending time doing things together. Kyo is a loner, and its a rarity for him to do anything with Tohru besides berate her for doing something he thinks is reckless or enabling others. Yuki on the other hand consistently offers and finds things to do with Tohru, which they clearly both enjoy and have a mutual attraction. He shares his vegetable gardening with her, they do chores together, and he’s always happy to talk with a smile on his face no matter what time it is or what’s going on. Oh woooow, Kyo finally opened up and cooked with Tohru at his adoptive father’s home, big whoop, it shouldn’t take a special occasion to make your boo come around. That’s right, Yuki most certainly finds things to share with Tohru, and you can be sure that would continue if they tied the knot: he’d do any number of fun things with Tohru to really make her feel valued and loved, just look at this list of things to do from lovepanky.com that I haven’t even read, every single point on the list is something Yuki would do with Tohru. https://www.lovepanky.com/love-couch/better-love/things-couples-should-do-together

Point #4: Yuki is a self-starter and focuses on self improvement and probably runs a good vibes blog.

That’s it, Yuki takes the initiative to make improvements and recognizes his flaws. That’s an excellent quality to find in a person.

–

I think I’ve firmly established why Yuki is a charming, handsome, responsible, compassionate, and active romantic partner for our lovely heroine. Compared to Kyo, the outcast of the Soma clan who is despised for his magical curse and fails to communicate well and frequently partakes in borderline toxic behaviors towards Tohru, Yuki is obviously the best choice.

But of course, the playing field isn’t quite even. Kyo certainly has been through his own psychological trauma after being abandoned by a mother who committed suicide due to his curse and called a monster by his father, and literally transforming into a rancid and vile monster when his magical bracelet is removed; it’s not hard to understand why Kyo is rough around the edges and doesn’t know how to be nice to Tohru. This is the biggest argument as to why Tohru should end up with Kyo, because without her, Kyo would never learn to live a happy life and would be locked away.

But come on, that’s irrelevant to this argument. We’re talking about who Tohru deserves. And she deserves Yuki which brings me to my final points.

Point #5: Tohru is good for Kyo, that’s not an argument for why Kyo is good for Tohru, because he isn’t.

Name one thing that Kyo has going for him that he could offer Tohru that Yuki can’t. Go on. What? Protect her? Sure he can, I don’t actually remember if this is brought up and the anime hasn’t gotten there yet if it has and it’s been 8 or 9 years or something since I’ve read the manga so cut me some slack but okay, sure, Kyo will fight for her, Kyo also punches her in his monster form cause he’s afraid of his emotions. Real boyfriend of the year material. Symbolically it is more meaningful to end up with Kyo and Tohru when comparing the themes of the story, but again, none of this is a benefit to Tohru. Kyo takes so long to even begin healthy communication, but let me give you some sound advice for lovers and friends:

Never go in expecting you can change them. You can’t. Yes literally maybe you can maybe, just maybe nudge them in the right direction, but you can never bet on them changing. Acknowledge that you can only do so much for someone, and take them as they are.

And this change is what makes Kyo’s romance with Tohru digestible eventually, but it also sets up bad expectations for lovers. Tohru’s romance with Kyo is a net negative when compared to the equally possible romance with Yuki.

So why am I carrying on like this? Well that’s because there’s a true final and most important point about this whole post. You see, all of this leads to a singular objective assertion about Tohru.

(Final) Point #6: Yuki is the superior choice and Tohru chooses the ultimately worse option. This is a selfless act which saves a young man’s life and future and therefore Tohru is indeed a international hero and deserves a medal of some kind I’m sure we can come up with something.

Bless her heart, she deserves so much better.

It’s raining today, how fitting. When is it wrong to be in love with someone? When is it right? Is it the emotion itself which is wrong, if so, why? After the Rain (the Japanese title literally translated as Love is Like After the Rain)is a show which approaches the topic of romance with a situation that most people would understandably jump back away from defensively.

Seventeen year old Akira Tachibana is utterly infatuated with her manager, Masami Kondo. He is in his forties. Kondo isn’t particularly handsome, nor is he financially stable, he’s an avid smoker, and his marriage has ended with a divorce and his wife in custody of the child. Over what is never said but clearly, it’s one of many things in his life that has shaken his confidence. Whoever Kondo was, he isn’t who he wanted to be. This makes it all the more questionable that Tachibana, who lacks neither talent, ethic, nor conventionally attractive looks, would ever fall in love with him. But from the outset of the story, Tachibana bears an intense crush for this man who is utterly oblivious to it.

In a way, this the most effective method to which the show disarms its reader’s apprehensions. Kondo’s personality is passive and meek. He’s a charming and gentle co-star, who seeks out promotion half-heartedly; and in many ways is looking to disappear into himself. Tachibana on the other hand, sees him through the rose-tinted glass of teenage heartthrobs. And this lack of attention which Kondo pays her feelings is realistic, takes him out of a predatory position of a lecherous old man, and allows others to get their two cents in on the situation with Tachibana, before Kondo even knows what he’s involved in.

But he isn’t the only person running away from themselves. Tachibana herself joined the restaurant because she injured her ankle, and had to quit the track team she was the star of. In doing so, it became too painful to watch her teammates without her, to see the thing she loved pass through her fingers. Her demure nature makes her hard for many to read, which makes stronger personalities bounce off of her rather than reflect her own, and even her best friend from track who fears losing her childhood friend doesn’t understand her motivations or intentions often becomes frustrated at Tachibana’s unwillingness to communicate with her.

She’s considered beautiful, and the subject of desire to two other men and presumably other men off camera, that we would consider to be appropriate ages. One in her class, and another in his twenties. But of course, none of that matters. What matters is what Tachibana wants for herself, what she’s willing to do to get it and it’s here that the story questions why we approach romance the way we do, and what separates the harmful from the harmless.

When Tachibana is able to confess her feelings to Kondo in privacy and time to spare, Kondo reacts responsibly. He knows that he can’t accept their feelings, not just because of what others will think, like he first tells Tachibana in an attempt to shake off her affections, but also because he understands the inherent imbalance in such a relationship. Kondo rejects Tachibana, but in lieu, Tachibana presses the two to develop a friendship. Of course, Tachibana is looking to woo him ultimately, but the story takes a more considerate interpretation of how this results.

Tachibana doesn’t see why she should hide because of what other people think, yet she recognizes it’s wiser to keep it a secret. Tachibana instead finds and is found in many situations which ultimately bring her in closer proximity of Kondo’s life. And Tachibana’s chasing results in her opening closets that Kondo had almost indefinitely closed to his life and passions. Slowly, she begins to pry into Kondo’s life, in an attempt to understand him. Initially, she hits a nerve, and he responds in a muted but curt way: “You know nothing about me.”. It’s not the most original line, but in this instance, it doesn’t sound overdramatic. It’s said quietly, under his breath in irritation, and is ultimately rooted in self-degradation and shame.

Indeed, Tachibana barely knows herself yet, no one really does at seventeen. But that inexperience is what brings out her best qualities. Tachibana may have a demure exterior, but she’s honest, and particularly forward when it comes to Kondo or people who cross her. She expresses her admiration, but also freely chastises him. But this also comes with her worst qualities, Tachibana is, for a large part of the story, presumptuous and high-strung.

And yet, she learns from those faults, and develops to respond to Kondo’s remark with maturity. She recognizes how little she knows, and as I said before, continues to understand, but this time with less of a focus on developing a romance, and more of a focus on getting to know him as a friend. And from this level, Kondo is able to respond to her, and the two find they have a tremendous amount of chemistry on a friendly level.

Early on, Tachibana catches the eye of the cafe’s chef, who decides to make a move on her. He’s in his twenties, handsome, and confident. One of the more observant employees of the cafe, he catches onto Tachibana’s crush on Kondo early on. He thinks it’s ridiculous, but he also doesn’t doubt it’s true. When he catches her, he uses his knowledge of her crush to leverage a date out of her, believing that he can shift her gaze to him. Of course, this upsets her greatly, and the date is a total bust. The show is arguing, “so if it isn’t age, looks, or confidence that brings forth love, why do we value those thing? And what is really essential to romance?”. Obviously, age interferes and creates a rift, but it provides a stark contrast when Tachibana subsequently goes on the exact same “date” with Kondo, and it set the stage to both Tachibana and Kondo ultimately falling down a route where they confront their separate paths, and learn enough to offer one another a push when they need it.

Tachibana’s youth is too distinct from Kondo’s age, and it makes him confront his own fear of failing once more at his age, and allows him to reconnect with his old passions and his old friend. Kondo’s failure filled life is too out of reach of Tachibana’s experience, and it makes her recognize her own neglect of her other connections in her life, and her fear of having to properly accept them. But through supporting one another, and offering advice and double checking their views points, and not allowing one another to fall into depressive mindsets, there is growth; and of course, how can we consider that not love?

And it’s there that the story digs in to what it means to say, that love and romance is what makes us grow, and that that alone cannot be wrong and isn’t worthy of shame.

I felt apprehensive and conflicted through the entire show, and to be honest, I’d be worried if I didn’t. Tachibana and Kondo share moments, but they are nothing more than comforting hugs, and the story (and the continuing manga, apparantly) resolves without a relationship pursued. Their feelings for one another are not equal, Kondo does not see Tachibana that way, and perhaps we can all sleep easier knowing that. But nonetheless, the show argues that Tachibana’s feelings are not inherently something to give her a hard time over; and while I could easily turn around and say that in most circumstances I would be intensely concerned with where it could lead, the fault would lay in the hands of the adult, not the teenager.

It hasn’t quite brought me on board. But it made me think, and I’ll think a little more.

There’s a lot of reasons I could recommend someone the anime adaptation of the Chica Umino’s award-winning manga March Comes in Like a Lion: its depiction of unorthodox families in a believable way, it’s dedication to portraying complex emotions at a family-friendly level, and the care and time it takes with serious topics of mental health, trauma, and bullying at that same level. But there’s one relatively short narrative within it, titled Burnt Field, that I think highlighted Umino’s talent of keeping a slow-paced story, even one with a cut focus between slice of life drama and the world of Shogi (a japanese board game extremely similar to chess), feeling fresh even 40 episodes in.

For the entirety of episode 39, and the first half of episode 40, we focus on a match between a long-time supporting cast member Kai Shimada, challenging a 9-year consecutive Champion for his title. Through the way of comically bad marketing and event management, and subsequent lack of enthusiasm among the main character, Rei, his best friend Nikaidou, and their mentor Kai himself, it quickly looks like this is going to be an awkward slog of an event. We’ve watched the aging Kai fail repeatedly to climb the ranks up to now, it feels natural that he’s finally getting his shot to change things, and at this point, we want that for him too. Rei and Nikadou are on commentary duty, and fade away from the focus quickly. We then see the champion welcoming his old colleagues at a pre-game dinner party; happy, confident. The lighting and cinematography frame him in bright warm lights and a powerful, relaxed posture. Enter Kai, who spells it out himself: Yanigahara gives an overwhelming ‘home-game’ air, he’s a “devious person” using psychological warfare, and a tyrannically good player showered with white victory confetti. The score of past games so far is 2-2, this upcoming match is the last. In every way, Kai is the underdog, our underdog, and we’re ready to see an upset. 

And then the perspective changes. And suddenly we’re with Yanigahara, so far someone we’ve only known for a couple minutes, looking for the friend who’s missing. The friend, Gan, was given an early retirement, and to the contrast of our young protagonist, was told he can no longer work. He tells a solemn Yanigahara that he is more than just a shogi player: he’s proof his generation can still do amazing things. The confetti Kai saw earlier falls to the foreground to long sashes of unfulfilled dreams of his retired fellow players who failed to climb to a noteworthy title despite decades of study. Yanigahara doesn’t want to disappoint them, but he too feels his life coming to a close, or as they put it: like a burnt field about to run out of things to burn. Despite his appearance, Yanigahara is tired; and the weight is suffocating. Slowly but surely, through this perspective change, our perception of Kai transforms from an underdog to a more balanced role. And as many sports anime do best, we slowly stop thinking about who we want to win and begin to wonder who should win, and the answer is ultimately as exciting as it has always been: the best.

To say more would be to spoil a great, if short, story about aging, identity, and ultimately the value of accomplishment with a memorable and emotional conclusion. Studio Shaft marries its signature animation and art direction of cut-heavy camera work and extreme closeups to Chica Umino’s metaphorical style, even if sometimes melodramatic, to a great effect. Emotions and perceptions are portrayed in symbolism, and most importantly: in how they feel, rather than simply what they actually would look like. Yanigahara’s fading memories are framed in a shaky, pulsing vignette; as if straining to recall them accurately and could be lost at any moment. White sashes are as much a contrast to the isolating darkness as they are a burden, weighing him down against Kai: seen as a steady wind which threatens to wear him back. March Comes in Like a Lion is carried on this pattern from its inception, and it’s no different here. I believe this is one of the best reasons for it to maintain itself as a family show, as its main goal is not to arrive at a catharsis (though it does, occasionally, do that as well), March Comes in Like a Lion refuses to antagonize anyone and is driven by a desire to build empathy in its viewers. 

It’s truly a shame this episode takes as long as it does to get to, as it highlights many of the strengths this show has in store for those who stick with it. But ultimately, there is no other way for it to have as powerful of a payoff as it does than to spend the time to grow fond of its complex and human cast. Burnt Field is just one of many intelligently paced arcs within March Comes in Like a Lion which plays itself with confidence in the power of teaching empathy, rather than to maximize the pleasure of its audience at every turn, and it’s a pleasure to experience.  

But please don’t watch the English dub, go for subtitles; trust me on this one.

While many of the shows I’ve gone over recently have dealt with head-in-the-clouds existentialist themes, I think it gives a poor impression of my actual tastes. It’s more that those stories simply are a bit “higher art” than my usual diet of simple, cutesy high school (or adult life; when I’m really lucky) romance. I enjoy those shows, sure, sometimes I love them dearly, but day to day I prefer my slice of life anime and melodramatic romances that handles things at the day to day level. I think we can all benefit greatly from media that isn’t always about saving the Earth, discussing the fundamental natures of the human existence, or seeing *insert hero* get strong enough over 20-something episodes to finally defeat the villain of the season. I do believe that to some extent we can lose appreciation for our own world and possibilities of our own lives when we spend all of our downtime on high concept shows and overlook the day to day messages, though certainly I get the appeal.

You can skip to this paragraph honestly, if you glazed over that last one. It mostly just felt good to write. In summary, I like shows that leaves its audience with a new message they can take to their real life after they sit down to view it. You would think this would make me a fan of American dramas. Sorry, I have a thing for sickeningly saccharine art. That being said, A Place Further than the Universe is a show that may rebuke many with this popular and generally questionable genre of “cute girls doing cute things”, and while certainly, it is that, it’s also a very touching, fun, and largely inoffensive romp about a group of friends discovering the power of waking up one morning, and deciding to take life by its reins.

Mari Tamaki is a high schooler who has realized up to this point in her life, her life has been utterly nondescript. Oh the despair! She confides to her ‘got-it-together’ best friend Megumi, who seems to say as much to put her down as she does to keep her just up enough to come back to school every day. Mari humors skipping class one day, to really push herself to be more adventurous, but Megumi is doubtful, and so she is too. But one day, Mari meets Shirase Kobuchizawa, a girl the rest of the school snickers at, because Shirase has a one track mind, and it’s going in one direction: Antarctica, the place her mom never came home from.

Shirase is defiant, stubborn, and prideful. She’s everything they’d love to nail down, and it seems that despite her attitude, all of them are finally starting to get to her. That’s when Mari Tamaki comes in. Blown away by Shirase’s ambition, her dream to go all the way to Antarctica– and not in a few years, not after college, as soon as she possibly can, within months, inspires Mari. She never even considered Antarctica, but it sure would be amazing, Mari thinks.

And so the gut answer comes out first to her from her classmates: You can’t go to Antarctica. You’re just a high schooler. To which the entire rest of the show says:

Why not?

It’s not long before “why not?” is given answer after answer, to which the show more or less responds with an almost humorous level of frankness: well ya you’d just have to do this, this, and this. Each answer to “why not?” is responded to as a problem to be solved, not a wall to excuse yourself. And when Mari finally makes this realization, her world starts turning, and it’s a joy to see.

It isn’t long before the two of them wrap two more friends into their dream on their way there, and the journey stops being just about Mari, and starts being about how the things we want are sometimes closer than we think.

A Place Further than the Universe is a show which wants to inspire, that understands that we often tell ourselves absurdities because we’re scared of the risks. It builds intimacy with the audience through it’s endearing cast, but more importantly, it seeks out our emotional highs, and even at some points, particularly with Shirase’s search for her clearly deceased mother, for us to acknowledge its the low points that make the high ones really count.

It’s a tale as old as time, sure. But the last time you saw it, was it four high schoolers and a scrappy civilian research crew from Japan no one believes in planting their boots together on the surface of Antarctica after a long journey, and then in unison screaming to everyone behind them:

“IN YOUR FACE!”

– A Place Further than the Universe

Anime is often known for it’s strangeness but it’s known for something else as well: to put it nicely, being ‘behind the times’ as they say. To put it less nicely, the medium is host to more than a slew of shows which feature highly restrictive and conservative notions of gender, highly sexist, and sometimes queerphobic, tropes that put off many viewers.

Now I could simply ignore these shows and focus on the shows that I do like that I think either do not partake in these tropes or make commentaries about them but I do believe that inherently, identifying myself with the crowd, identifying myself with the medium, it would be better to think about, and talk about this more explicitly.

This is not to say that I am defending shows which perpetuate harmful ideas through the overt and abundant objectification of women across male-oriented shows and movies (and cross-gender marketed shows and shows meant for young audiences; primarily boys.). Indeed, anyone who finds a show to be offensive on any such grounds, I will not stop them from complaining, disavowing, or dropping said show. In fact, I do it all the time myself.

But I also see a large amount of people who disavow anime entirely, which I do think is a shame, to an extent, I don’t consider cartoons more important than people’s moral compasses after all. Being with anime for so long, I’ve seen it blow up into the mainstream here in the West, from something that was considered odd in the past. Now being into anime is something far more normal than it used to be, still more nerdy than most, but watching it no longer designates you to being a weirdo, and while I do like this because I find anime to be the most experimental and therefore exciting mediums around, it’s also undeniable that I see a lot of types of shows become popular in the West that contain some pretty sexist ideas. Perhaps you might ask, “D0ll’s-Eye, what shows are you talking about?” And the answer is, there are literally too many to even begin to list them all. To give a few names would not even start to touch the iceberg or give someone an idea to the amount of media we would consider “Highly Problematic”. And I’m not interested in defending any of them, if you find a show with sexist tropes, I’ll probably agree with you, and a promise you would have to pull some incredible gymnastics to not run into some.

But I would like to make some points regarding how I, and fans like me, view this media.

To put it simply: we don’t.*

I put the asterisk because the principle relies on the idea of negotiated stances. Clearly, people aren’t directly brainwashed into the media they view, but we are likely affected subconsciously by the media we digest, I’ve read research on this, and in fact, fiction can be more potent to changing our values than nonfiction or so the patterns show. But first we should forget that there is such thing as a perfectly inoffensive piece of art, and I wholly believe you can find something disagreeable and negotiated in even the tamest productions.

But as I hate it being thrown around as well, clearly there is a level of scale present here as well. To say that Riding Bean, which is a very ill aged anime about a gunnutty american guy facing down a transsexual lesbian pedophile in what has to be the on the list of one of the most toxic pieces of art in anime I’ve ever made the mistake of watching (I had the trainwreck syndrome, it was so bad I couldn’t look away), is on the same moral level as Castle in the Sky’s gender rigidity would be downright absurd.

But clearly as not all things a work argues for are equally bad, so too can we decide on what our limits and boundaries are. After all, we literally do vote with our dollars when we view shows on streaming platforms and television. Crunchyroll/VRV divides the individual’s subscription payments amongst the shows the account watched in that month relative to how they’ve viewed them. This means a viewer has much more say than they may originally think when viewing their tv, and if they accidentally or regretfully view something they dislike, they can always watch something else (or put something else on while they do something else and can take the data) to offset the money that production will get from them.

Another principle my like-minded friend and I follow is rather simple: If you can’t take *insert toxic thing* and/or it leaves too bad a taste in your mouth: drop it like a wet towel. Something I learned years ago is that, yes it’s nice to be in the know about everything with everyone, you learn very quickly when you start selecting more carefully that you can absolutely live without certain art.

And then there are shows with things that are just too poor a stain on them to ignore. Rurouni Kenshin is considered one of the greatest action anime of all time, and its live action adaptations are hailed as excellent and fun movies, a rarity in that subgenre of adaptations. Anyway, the creator’s a pedophile who paid into real-life child pornography. I’m not giving him a cent, and it appalls me when others say that they don’t care and they won’t let it ruin their favorite anime, as if that’s the thing that really matters at the end of the day.

But that’s why it’s important, in my opinion, to stay with the medium if you’re a more liberal-minded fan. Anime, at the end of the day, is a business; and it’s clear that when Crunchyroll showed off “High Guardian Spice” and Funimation has taken stances regarding their standards of shows that they’re trying to tap into a market with more progressive outlooks and engage with the executive decisions regarding anime. Kyoto Animation is a studio known for it’s highly progressive studio policies, and while I do disagree with the amount of queerbaiting they partake in without ever committing to showing a fully gay relationship in a show (seriously, you cowards, do it already enough with the ‘almost kisses’), I find that the good they do towards paying their artists fair salaries and being fully invested in both female and other forms of representation both in front of and behind the camera to be worth support when I think they’ve made something good.

Objectifying harem anime isn’t going anywhere, you nor I can stop whomever from buying it, or any of the other sometimes just downright disturbing things. But we can decide what we buy, and that won’t be ignored either. High Guardian Spice, a show which has worked to make its production team a 50/50 gender split, who has employed the concept’s creator as an executive producer and has allowed him to he: a young, hardworking transgender man has been attacked ever since its announcement by a blizzard of transphobic, anti-representation slander and libel. It’s production was finished, and we still haven’t seen it released. When it does, I wonder if enough people will pay the mind to see it.

Carole & Tuesday is Studio Bone’s 20th anniversary show directed by the legendary Shinichirō Watanabe. Like many have professed before and and will continue to do so afterwards, this show is one big love song to music (pun definitely intended), coupled with some beautiful sakuga (what we refer to as “money shots” in animation, scenes with high levels of technical prowess to wow the audience. In other words, the entire film Weathering with You. [I forgot to mention how incredibly stunning the animation in that movie is, and I truly apologize for that.]) With a killer soundtrack, and an adorable duo that you can’t help but root for, it’s a multivitamin for your mood.

However, the truth is, I don’t know squat about music. And given a show that truly understands music, it’s hard for me to dissect it to a degree that I believe a more passionate scholar of those arts would be better suited to.

What I do understand though is, of course, the characters and the plot and the blah blah blah. I watched that show with joy and anticipation; it came out on my birthday last year, but only in Japan. It felt like a slap in the face, but this show was explicitly designed as an international release all the same. So I waited for Netflix to eventually dole it out to us, and in the first three days of the decade, I watched the whole second half of the series and completed my viewing with a friend.

I won’t go into too much detail, but the series takes a much more political and contemporary turn: Mars, in the near future is now a rich settlement inhabited by humans, while Earth is now a wasteland and chaotic mess, faces a humanitarian crisis of unknown origin. Earthling refugees are pouring into the resource rich country, and anti-immigrant protesting has become the forefront of a politician who seeks to use fearmongering to win her the next election.

This politician happens to be the mother of a certain girl, Tuesday, one of our protagonists. Tuesday, certified mega-rich girl (though it ends up not mattering when her card is cut off shortly after the series begins), who ran away from home to pursue music as a job; is torn slightly away from her new life when it becomes apparent that this issue has turned into a personal matter with her relation to her mother being undeniable, particularly given her BFF and other musical half Carole is an immigrant refugee from Earth herself. In fact, let’s talk about Carole really quick.

Carole has a terrible life. Let’s not sugar-coat it. She’s the tough girl in our adorable duo, she dresses in a fem punk style, she knows how to throw a punch, and she doesn’t cry easy. She lives on her own, poor and desperate, working odd jobs to pay the bills, an orphan since she was little with no knowledge of her parents and never adopted, and until Tuesday comes into her life, she has next to nobody in it. And she’s only 17. Her life sucks.

Despite this, Carole is also one of the sweetest characters, and offers Tuesday to live with her and helps her on her feet just to have a new friend to go into music with. She constantly stands by Tuesday, and despite Tuesday being a ditzy rich girl who doesn’t know how to take care of herself, Carole helps her without a fuss. They support each other unconditionally, but Carole through the series takes some pretty serious measures to be with Tues, as she calls her, breaking the law and ready to break some teeth too.

We’ll get back to that in a moment, but I want to quickly highlight that Carole, and the other immigrants, are almost exclusively of varying skin tones, but all of those skin tones are on the darker side. Contrasting, the martian elites are overwhelmingly pasty white, including Tuesday herself. The show puts this to decent use as well, I appreciate particularly the use of rap (graced to us by Denzel Curry who I TOTALLY knew about until this show [I didn’t]) as a form of protest music, nodding to the genre’s origins. And the topical message of peace and unity during a time of uncertainty was a nice pick-me-up for the end and beginning of the year.

But let’s get back to what my real problem here is. Carole & Tuesday has an issue with getting Tuesday to do anything. And let’s be fair, Tuesday is an extremely shy girl who, due to the overwhelming pressures of her callous and domineering mother, shuts herself away in her room without anyone to talk to. The girl’s got her issues like any teenage protagonist. But that being said, despite Tuesday, particularly in the first half of the series, being the focus of many of the initial tensions, she grows very little through the story. In fact, Tuesday herself is particularly static, despite the emotional highs generally going to her. To her credit, she does eventually have a moment where she does the right thing and goes in a very (VERY) indirect way to counter her mother’s anti-immigrant posturing, but this moment is played off rather quickly.

To be more frank about this: Carole, throughout the story, is handling emotional problems with very little explicit help from Tuesday but is constantly doling out said support to Tues whenever she needs it– which is most of the time. You might say that this is a matter of one being more sheltered than the other, and that’s totally fair and feels natural. But since the show has introduced racial elements to be dissected, I feel it would be inappropriate if I didn’t meet it on that level. It did ask me to, after all. And when we introduce that element, I find the show lacking because at no point does Tuesday have a moment for her to use her white privilege (or in the context of the story, Martian privilege) to stand up face to face with racist encounters.

It’s truly frustrating to me, it feels like a waste of a golden opportunity, particularly since the second half of the show was focused more on Carole’s life. I felt as though it could have been an excellent moment if the white characters made a tangible action that the average person could apply.

In other words, #lettuesdaybebrave.

“If someone gave you 10 Billion Yen and said, “Improve this country.” what would you do? How would you answer him?”

-Mr. Outside, Eden of the East

It’s integral tie to the NEET (No Employment, Education, or Training) and Hikkikomori Culture in Japan, the stranglehold of wealth the elderly have on a growing divide of wealth inequality, the disillusionment of the young, a pervasive sense of powerless young adults who are frustrated with an exploitative economic system set to the foreground of a post-2008 stock market crash, it’s no question that Eden of the East was made distinctly for a Japanese audience at the time of its creation. That it exists to comprehend itself at that time and place, and to be comprehended in it. Eden of the East asks it’s Japanese audience in 2009 and 2010, to only watch it there and then, and expects no relevance in the future.

But despite this, I don’t think it is particularly sinful to appropriate its viewing; if the viewing is appropriate. And I do believe it is.

It was last semester, Fall of 2019, the year was coming to a close and so was the time before my deadlines would crush me. I needed something to watch, without some sort of background, it’s hard for me to concentrate, but it’s a thin line. I can’t watch something distracting, but I can’t have something boring either. I needed something that’d keep me comfortable, and that’s when I thought of one of my favorite shows from my past, Eden of the East. I *was* researching the NEET and Hikkikomori phenomena going on in Japan, it seemed like a poetic fit. I found it relatively early in my time as an anime nerd, back when everything was new back before anime hit the mainstream like today. Familiar, nostalgic, but not distracting, I knew the story beats well enough to ignore it and zone into it when I needed to look away. So I took a gander and popped in the DVDs for the first time in seven years, and got to work.

It was during this semi-viewing that I started hearing things that not only naturally resonated with my research for school, but eerily with my own political culture. For the first time, I was old enough to really watch one of my favorite shows.

---

Money is power, so the saying goes. Japan is stagnant, like the rest of the world, recovering from the 2008 stockmarket crash, and the economic bubble which grinded its country’s economy to a halt. Saki Morimi, a young college student, finds herself on her way to the White House as the last stop on her graduation trip before her flight back home. Feeling lost, like many of the youth of her age in the shadow of a world which seems both too large to ignore and too big to enter, she hopes to gain some spiritual insight by standing “in the center of the world”. There she finds a handsome young man around her age, Akira Takizawa, an amnesiac, stark naked and waving around a gun in one hand and holding a strange flip phone with over 7 billion yen. He’s charming, quick on his feet, shameless, but thoughtful and earnest. As their story continues (and he finds appropriate clothes), Akira soon discovers that his phone is more than just a money bank, it also comes employed with a mysterious concierge, who may use the money at his command to perform virtually any request he asks at incredible speed and efficency.

But there’s a catch, as he quickly uncovers. This money and phone is one of twelve and twelve unfortunate souls like him. Each of them abducted and forced into a “game” by the enigmatic Mr. Outside. Each of their phones is started with 10 billion yen ($91 million, though would be a bit more with inflation since the value of the yen has since dropped). An enormous amount for a single individual, but in the eyes of a country, utterly miniscule. With the help of their concierge, JUIZ, they are instructed to “save Japan”. If they win, they go free. If they lose by exhausting their funds, breaking the rules (one of which is using their funds for solely personal gain), or another contestant winning, they will be killed.

Over the course of the series and two movies, Saki and Akira find themselves navigating the game and meeting with the other contestants, each representing a different social dilemma of modern Japan. Saki’s friends, a club turned grass roots business with a groundbreaking social media app, called “Eden of the East”, pair up with Akira.

Now that the stage is set, in my next post, I shall dive into the characters, and approximate how the series stands today and what it had to say ten years ago.

“Praying with all my heart, I passed through the shrine gate.”

-Hina Amano, Weathering with You

It’s not often I see a movie twice in theaters. It’s not often I see a movie; in theaters or out. Even when shows I follow diligently come out with a promising feature film, I almost never find myself going to the theaters or streaming them. So when I bought day one tickets to the fan pre-screening of Makoto Shinkai’s latest teen fantasy drama three months in advance, I already knew from what tiny glimpses I caught in the narrow vision the trailers offered that this film would be different.

This being a more closely observed look at the film’s messages, spoilers will continue from hereon out. I’ll even put it in big letters below, I suggest anyone who wants to watch the film blind does so. I will not be doing a clear breakdown of the film’s plot. Though I have enough confidence in the film’s performance that I think it will be well worth a view even if one was to know the plot.

SPOILERS FOR “WEATHERING WITH YOU” AHEAD.

I believe to get to the source of this misunderstanding, and the heart of the movie, we first should lay down the basics on the table. Beginning with the emotional journey of each protagonist: the weather-warping “100% sunshine girl” Hina Amano who, with a prayer, can temporarily part the seemingly endless rainstorms above Tokyo at will; and her co-star, the sensitive, abused runaway Hodaka Morishima. Realizing Hina can make a quick 5000 yen selling her schedule to clear up the rain, Hodaka and her find themselves bringing sunshine to those who call them up. Every type of person in society does so, from flea markets to cosplayers to toddlers to TV stations, and Hina finds herself with a purpose and satisfaction in the seemingly harmless way she makes those around her happy. Her pure-hearted intentions are accepted without question from all those around her, joyous to finally have a savior who asks for nothing but a smile and sometimes simply what they can charge. The world is starting to look right again, because of Hina.

But “there is always a price” when one interferes with nature, the priest says, before rambling on about the ancient system of the sunshine girls. “A tragic fate awaits the weather maiden.” he concludes. The ancient system which props these young and selfless women, leaders of the next day, to die a nameless, empty, lonely death so that all others may continue life as is in comfort as they age away. For

“The more I pray for sunshine the more my body fades away.”

Hina laments quietly and alone to Hodaka once she learns the price of her powers.

Until, eventually, Hina is gone. And the storms are over.

This system, its age presented in a form of forgotten wisdom of respect for the sky and our own fragility on the earth, is at the heart of the conflicts of the story.

This movie is, as we’ve already established, about climate change. But more importantly, the story is NOT about two teenagers seeing the chance to solve climate change, and then choosing not to, and simply accepting their fate rather than be wrested apart.

Climate change is not the deeper enemy in Weathering with You, though it is the immediate threat. Instead it takes a bolder, more real claim that will be unpalatable to many, but is nonetheless the message that must be heard. The antagonist which the protagonists overcome is not a choice of calming a demonic weather or not.

When I first heard the ramblings of the priest, I had an uncomfortable reaction to his climate-denying claims that the news is over-sensationalizing the change in the weather. Was Shinkai a climate denier, or at least, a climate fatalist? And as I said earlier, upon investigation, no. He wasn’t. Because it is only in accepting the arcs and symbolism of the side characters that we can understand the impact of our duo’s final decision and the meaning of the work.

The washed up widower dad who takes Hodaka in as a surrogate less-lousy father, Keisuke Suga is particularly important to this narrative. Keisuke sees himself in Hodaka, a runaway himself who made a living in Tokyo scrambling on his own before falling in love with a woman who departed the world at a young age, Keisuke is a clear representation of Hodaka’s future if he were to let Hina sacrifice herself, and also serves as the spokesperson for the rest of society at large.

“There’s nothing more gorgeous than a beautiful, clear sky.”

-Keisuke Suga, Weathering with You

“Making tough choices” is how he puts his sudden abandonment of Hodaka and Hina when the authorities suspect him of kidnapping to his niece, Natsumi, a down-to-earth twenty-something year old trying desperately to break into any job she can grab. Natsumi relentlessly challenges Keisuke’s unscrupulous decisions while looking for a purpose herself.

Keisuke is the definition of the older population that desperately looks for a way to ignore the cruelty of the system. Whose heart hurts for the future, but “what’s the point in bringing that up?” he says before the tears begin to flow and he can deny his heart no longer. Keisuke, remembering the pain of losing his wife, in knowing Hodaka’s pain as his own, realizes what is as clear as day to Hodaka.

Hodaka breaks down when Hina disappears from the world, body and all, and her ring, the last emotional connection she has to the world literally slips through her fingers, falls to his feet; and before realizing that she was even younger than him; even carrying his own heart on her back.

It’s here that Hina’s truest symbolism is apparent: Hina is not just a pure-hearted girl, Hina is not even just the youth of today: Hina, as the sunshine girl, is the future which all apathy is shamelessly placed by those of a complacent present. Hodaka and her represent the youth of today, heading into tomorrow, but also the youth of tomorrow.

He cries to the authorities, helplessly from the back of their car that which any young person who sees what’s coming in our world wants to: “Because you refuse to see the truth!”; “No one knows her sacrifice.”. Indeed, they do, they see it in their dreams, but not a word of concern is seen. Just joy that the storm is over. For them, at least.

But this begs the question to me: What about afterwards? The storms will eventually return, and then a new sunshine girl will have to complete this cruel cycle or Tokyo will once again be under threat.

But this isn’t the ending that is portrayed in a heroic way, this isn’t the ending at all, is it? No. The sunshine girl is not a savior. She’s an excuse. She’s an excuse, the future, so that everyone can ignore the problem until they’re no longer alive. The sunshine girl is the person we put faith in so we don’t have to learn to live with a crazy, real world. The sunshine girl is the person who tells you that “the weather can change on a whim” like the priest echoes with certainty. The sunshine girl is the person who tells you that humans have no effect on the climate. They’re the person, that someone counts on, who is fine with letting the younger generations handle it. The sunshine girl is the person you say “someone will take care of it” to. The sunshine girl is the strongman you pretend exists and vote for because it indulges your worst sides to curb your anxieties. The sunshine girl is the future that you, that we send to heaven to die before she has a chance to live so you can do whatever you want.

The sunshine girl is the one the police defend as they point their guns at Hodaka, the authority that refuses to hear an earnest boy who tries to save another’s life. Who tries to save them all, not by stopping the weather, but by realizing the innately human factor that is necessary to get us to stop the weather from crushing us all.

“Why are you all standing in my way!?”

-Hodaka Morishima, Weathering with You

The enemy in Weathering with You is the system of the sunshine girl because it is a representation of how we turn our eyes away from the only thing that really fulfills us and gives us purpose, as Natsumi comically discovers her own passion as she barrels down the road with Hodaka on the back of her Vespa, because she knew implicitly it was the right thing to do.

“Hodaka snap out of it, there’s no way she’s up there!”

Keisuke says, as he holds Hodaka away from Hina, from the future. But then, when the society he pleas with attacks his surrogate son, his deeper morality kicks in, and he realizes the ones in the wrong are the governance and the culture that would stop him from what is essential. His arc concludes with a tackle and a punch, and a cry: “Hodaka go!”

With his own hopes, Keisuke’s subconscious ones, and Hina’s little brother’s as well, riding on his back, Hodaka reaches heaven, and he and Hina are able to rescue the future from its grip.

He tells Hina to “pray for herself”. He tells her, “I don’t care!” if he never sees the sun again, “I care about you!”. This turn of events, which is too easily taken in the wrong direction, misses the message of the story if the true antagonist is not realized. Nothing is saved by selfishness. Hodaka’s love of Hina is more complex than just an affection for his romantic interest (while of course, it’s still that too.). As he runs to the shrine gate, despite the immense distance and exhaustion, he does something essential: he takes true responsibility for pushing Hina into this role, apologizing over and over hoping she hears him. Hodaka’s love for Hina is a deep empathy, a respect for her personhood.

“Instead of choosing wings to soar through the sky, we chose hands to hold with one another.”

– Grand Escape by RADWIMPS, Weathering with You OST

Once their decision is made, the world pays the consequences, but even then, the adults have yet to consciously recognize the problem. Three years later, Keisuke well-meaningfully shuts down Hodaka by denying the entire experience. But even he was changed by Hina and Hodaka, now working a proper job in society and with a more life affirmed attitude. The change thus, even in those who refuse to confront it outwardly, can be done. An older woman from earlier in the story echoes the priest, finding an assurance that things have always changed and reverted. But Hodaka, when he sees Hina once more, refutes their declarations: “We changed the world!” and in an ironic reversal of what we would expect to come from that declaration: the fantastical one, Hodaka and Hina do in fact change the world, by making it face its true self. He makes his self declaration, that we should all make: “I choose this world! And I choose to live in it!”

“Is there still anything love can do? Is there still anything I can do?”

–Is There Still Anything Love Can Do? by RADWIMPS, Weathering with You OST

Weathering with You is a fairy tale which offers no magic solution to climate change for the audience, no magical fix that will show two kids save us. It doesn’t tell us that we can leave it to someone else. Because that will never happen. There are no sunshine girls. They don’t exist. There’s only us. And therein lies the problem, and the solution. Weathering with You understands that climate change is a culmination of human short term self-interest to the umpteenth. And it will only be solved if we are able to open our hearts to something larger than ourselves, to one another, that our world begins and ends with each of us making a choice: to love. To get up and do something. And that’s how We’ll be Alright.

“All these love songs we hear, already they’ve been sung to death. All the movies that we’ve seen, they’ve said everything they can.”

–Is There Still Anything Love Can Do? (English Version) by RADWIMPS, Weathering with You OST