radio414

Chris had gotten worried after Julian had started rattling off facts about whoever else was in the bar, but the fact that the elf, Joan, hadn’t immediately capitulated to Julian’s badgering either allowed Chris to start feeling a bit better about his choices. It also made him a little curious about the people he’d pointed to as well, but he kept that to himself; he wasn’t about to become just like Julian right after he pushed her away. “Well, I’d wish you luck,” Chris said, “but I’m pretty sure I never want to see you again, so.” He stood up from his spot at the bar, grabbed his drink, and followed Hector back over to the rest of the group. Hector, for his part, was prompting everyone as to exactly what sort of war crime they were expecting the kitchen to perform. “They’re ready for whatever you want,” he said, even including a brag about the food’s quality. Chris couldn’t vouch for the “head-family-ness” of it -- it had been too long for that -- but he was at least confident enough to place an order. “One whole duck,” he said as he slid into his chair. “After that, I dunno, what did you two want?” After Hector had left with everyone’s orders, Chris added, “Sorry, didn’t think that would take as long as it did. What’s the discussion been like over here?”

←Previous Post -- Next Post→ Duel 23 -- The Terms of a Duelist Or: Amazing… Everything You Just Saw Last Episode Was Wrong As promised, we’re going to start talking about Chiho Saito’s manga today, starting with the prolog. By the second page, we’ve already run into a point of separation from the anime, in this case, Utena’s rose-colored uniform. I mentioned this before when talking about the initial steps of the show’s creation, how Utena’s design was always in flux, and this is potentially one such indicator of that. The manga doesn’t comment on Utena’s hair color, though it would not surprise me if the initial pages were drawn with blonde hair in mind. Still, announcing the unconventional color of Utena’s outfit along with the rose-scented letter from her prince does a good job setting up the motif just as well as the prolog for the anime did. I suppose I should talk about how I’m approaching this discussion because it’s a little different from how I’ve been referring to the anime. The anime is free to watch, of course, and there have been two links to the episode in question in each of these posts, so it is easier for me to assume someone is watching along and experiencing Utena for the first time. The manga, meanwhile, is something you need to purchase (or at least you should; I admit I didn’t dig too hard into online versions) so access is slightly more limited. So that’s one effect, and will perhaps lead to a bit more recap than normal. The other is that because I’m starting this so late in this blog series, it’s not going to assume the manga is one’s first foray into Utena. It did technically come first, but most people’s first experience is with the show (though it should be noted there’s a not-insignificant number of people who have only seen the movie), including myself, and I wasn’t sure I would be able to distance myself from that enough, so I decided not to, a decision that will likely lead to more comparative analysis. Of course, thinking like this also leads to one of the biggest criticisms I’ve seen of the prolog: that it is utterly ancillary to the main plot and could just as easily be cut from the story entirely. And, well, it’s a fair point. If you’ve already accepted Utena being removed from all mentor figures in her search for some mythical prince, taking over seventy pages of manga to reestablish these facts might not be the best use of space. But also remember that the anime accomplished this by using a story so fantastic that one assumes it to be an allegory on initial viewing. The remaining thirty-eight episodes of that show have this undercurrent of learning just which parts of that opening did and did not happen. The manga is significantly less ambiguous. In a similar fashion, the manga is quicker to get to a story that appears in all three of Revolutionary Girl Utena’s canons: the story of a girl drowning until a boy saves her. Like with most things spanning the three mediums, the details differ, but it is always significant in some way (I should note that it hasn’t appeared in the anime yet -- you haven’t missed it). In this case, it is Utena’s first encounter with her prince and the reason for her obsession with the one she calls “Mister Licky-Lick.” And yeah, that’s a dumb name. I won’t say that it is redeemed by Utena’s young age -- remember, she’s fourteen in the show, and even younger here -- but I will try to give a more charitable read here: The whole prolog, especially her interactions with the two male characters Aoi Wakaoji and Kaido, serve to repeatedly establish that, although Utena at this point in her life is very “prince-sexual”, she has no idea who that prince is or what he looks like. She is attracted to Aoi’s “kind, gentle eyes”, for example, but rejects the rest of him when she realizes that he cannot be her prince. We’ve already seen in the anime how this will only go terribly for her in her interactions with Touga. The last major point that I want to bring up is this mention of the meaning of Utena’s name. It means “flower calyx”, or the leaves that protect a bud before it blooms. This is significant enough in all versions of Utena, but this is the place where it is remarked upon. Oh, and there’s also a slap. Can’t have Utena without someone getting slapped, apparently. If one were to rank the episodes of Revolutionary Girl Utena from most confusing to least confusing, this one would almost certainly be near the top of the list. Which is weird, because it also features Souji Mikage basically explaining the plot, not just of the arc, but of the whole show. “Everyone here is holding onto a memory,” he says. I’ve actually touched on this before, though I called it “reconciling with the past”. The reason the episode is confusing is because of all the other stuff. The reason for the confusion, in my estimation, is that both the previous episode and this one are told largely through Souji’s perspective, and Souji, as we find out, is a very unreliable narrator. Tokiko wasn’t the object of Mikage’s affections, Mamiya was (yikes). Mamiya didn’t burn down that building, Mikage did. The reason that Souji is the exact same age as he was back then is because he’s dead, a ghost sustained only by imperfect memories and manipulated into doing End of the World’s bidding. This also can explain why, when Tokiko showed up at the end of last episode, she went unnoticed while Mikage instead fixated on Utena as a version of her. Because it was closer to what he remembered, and it was that version of Tokiko that Souji felt he had to overcome. All of that kind of begs the question, though, if Souji/Nemuro, whichever they are, is an unreliable narrator, how can we be sure this second version of events is the real one? Again, if we remember Tokiko’s appearance in the last episode, the second version seems to line up more with her version of events, with the premier example, Mamiya already being dead, also matching with information that we learn at the end of this episode, that Anthy has been impersonating Mamiya, seemingly at Akio’s behest, in order to manipulate him into following the will of End of the World. The final moments of the episode also demonstrate the kind of world Ohtori Academy is. When Akio tells Souji to graduate, Souji and all of his influence is erased from the world entirely. Nemuro Memorial Hall becomes a nameless ruin, and nobody remembers a thing about any of what happened. There are moments in this episode that aren’t from Souji’s perspective, though. Utena discovering Souji’s manipulations and then socking him in the mouth is one, for example. But perhaps the biggest example of this is in her considerations towards Anthy. The moment where Utena wakes up holding Anthy’s hand may be the closest these two have gotten so far, and it’s here that Utena again resolves to be Anthy’s protector. One might note that this is a decision made without Anthy’s consideration or input, especially since, again, Anthy is eventually revealed working with Akio (not to mention the number of times she’s implied to be sleeping with him), but it does still progress their relationship. Just in time for everything to start falling apart. -r Next time: Wow, what a weird arc! Thank goodness there’s a recap episode coming up to tie everything together. ←Previous Post -- Link to Episode -- Next Post→

whiplash you say?

Chris eyed the initial pen Julian produced with suspicion. But, then again, of course he did. Not only was he, well, in the suspicion business, it also seemed a bit convenient that she had the pen on her in the first place if she wasn’t intending on using it. He almost wanted to try and lift it from her just to get a better look at it -- he even tracked where it went as she slipped it back -- but he stopped himself and tried a more tactful approach, or tactful for him, at least. “How come I don’t deserve the special pen?” he said. “You can’t act like I’m all special and then give me a plain old pen.” “Teehee, that one's not for writing,” she answered. Okay, so it wasn’t a pen then (or was it? She just said it wasn’t for writing, but it still seemed like she thought of it as a pen…). Chris still kept an eye on the pocket it was in, though, even in his peripheral as he turned to take a drink. He did wonder if he was being too obvious, but he brushed the concerns aside. “Alright, here’s the story: You’re right. I was born in this big, fancy castle. Which one, I couldn’t tell you -- my memory is too hazy for that -- but you do have to trust that I remember that much. But after my birth, the first thing I remember was waking up in an alleyway, about six years old at that point, yeah? So that’s a third of my life I already don’t remember right there. And another six years were spent being gaslit. That one core memory of mine, that I do have a last name, that I do matter, that all got beaten out of me. “But I got some licks in too, eventually,” Chris said. “And I got smart. I learned not to talk about it much, that was why I was so hostile to you earlier, sorry. So now I just work as a --” oh, what was the word? “an ostler and a baster trying to get a glimpse of the castle that was once mine. The Spark, too, that could help just as much, that’s why I have my companions in that regard. “‘Now, why haven’t my parents searched for me?’ I hear you ask.” Chris lowered his voice and leaned in and gestured, trying to get Julian to do the same. “Well, first of all, who’s to say they haven’t? They won’t know what I look like anymore. But that ignores the more serious reason. I think -- you know, because I think about this a lot -- I think they’ve been hexed. I think they don’t even remember that they had a child. So only by their true love’s embrace -- that’s me, obviously -- will the spell be broken.” Julian nodded slowly. “Seems it won’t be so easy to figure you out. Well, that’s what investigation is for.” She smiled wide. “Honestly, it’s more fun that way.” Then why’d you ask? Chris thought. “I guess if we’re being honest with each other, you might as well ask her what her story is,” he said, gesturing first to the elf with the sword and then the waitress who had just served his companions drinks. “Or her what hers is. I don’t think they’d tell you either. Or maybe they would, but either way, I’m not that type of person. There’s something you can write down.”

Apology Simon barely even perceived being dragged out of Dia’s temple. In one moment, he was in the temple’s inner sanctum, and in the next, he was being flung against the warm midday cobblestone of the Temple Square. He was panting a little, but he tried to conceal it to a degree; focusing his breathing through the nose allowed him some degree of control over his circumstances, even as the watchdog loomed large over him. “I don’t know what possessed you to do what you did, Simon,” the dog said, “but you will confess your sins to the people of Galatea before you die. Well, Simon thought, at least his death would not be a surprise. He tilted his head back to get an upside-down view of the gathering crowd. There were many gathered already, some clearly gathered by the guards and some arriving simply because the crowd was already there. Simon had to smile at what had been provided to him. An audience was an audience, no matter the reason they had gathered, and he pushed himself up to recline against his elbows; it was much less comfortable than when he normally performed it on his cot, but it still gave him an inkling of presentability and he was determined to have it. With that, Simon began his confession. “You must forgive me, my fellow citizens of Galatea, that I cannot rise to my own defense. My strength has failed me recently in these recent months,” he said. “Forgive me too, then, that you probably remember me as a singer, not this broken man who lies before you. And lastly, I ask that you forgive me for the unrehearsed and unrefined performance you are about to witness. I only wish it were not so.” He coughed. “I have been placed here today, and you have been gathered, at the behest of a representative of our many gods, to confess all of my sins to you now. I will do this freely, as should you, of course, should you be unfortunate enough to find yourself in a similar situation. Surely you all remember tales of a holy man -- some would even dare to call him a saint -- who could not help but admit how he and his friends stole fruit from an orchard in his younger years. If I may be so bold as to invoke him further, he proclaimed that it was not the desire for the fruit, nor the desire for friendship that drove him, but the desire to sin itself. That was what was intoxicating to the holy man. “But I am not a holy man, my dear Galateans. I have never claimed to be. I see some of my followers in the crowd among you; if you ask them, they will confirm what I say. Nor do I dare compare myself to a holy man in even the remotest sense. As I said, you probably remember me as a singer and nothing more. But I do bring up this anecdote to question the nature of my demanded confession itself. Am I supposed to be confessing to my sins? Or to my desires?” He looked out to the masses, and that was when he spotted something: a bristle of movement as the familiar face of Taros’ watchdog made his way through the crowd. It was not enough to cause him to stutter in his speech, but it was of note. “‘He is stalling!’” Simon said. “Yes, I can hear the murmurs among you. ‘He continues to speak yet refuses to confess!’ I am sure even this distinguished watchdog next to me is thinking these same thoughts you are.” He gestured to the dog in question. “This man would have me admit to heresy. Of blasphemy. All I am asking, then, is to-” “I see you’ve been busy, Watchdog of Hinder.” Taros’ dog breached the wall of people and stepped into the circle the crowd had provided Simon. “I wish for this not to end in bloodshed,” he said. “I’d ask if there was a better way, but the look in your eyes tells me otherwise.” “Ah,” Simon said. “Well, I would consider it bad form to interrupt a performance, but I will make an exception here.” Again, he addressed the crowd. “These are watchdogs, after all. What they do is the gods’ will. In fact, I might recommend stepping back quite a bit, in case the gods decide to be, ah, rather sloppy with their actions today.” OOC

Praise the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens. Praise him for his acts of power; praise him for his surpassing greatness. Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre, praise him with timbrel and dancing, praise him with the strings and pipe, Praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals. Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord. -Psalm 150 (NIV)Melissa’s world began to fade from view. Not in the sense that she was losing consciousness or, worse still, that the world was ending, but with the defeat of the Mystical Piper and its Relinquished, as the remaining hordes of monsters on both sides began dissipating into the aether, there wasn’t as much a need to keep her duel disk running. It still lingered for a few moments longer, the collective subconscious of everyone around her working to keep it alive, but at the same time, with the return to clear skies above, was the light of her duel field even necessary anymore? They had done it. They had done it! All of the exhaustion she had accumulated throughout the day, from the initial panic and scramble to constantly being on edge as she and her friends made their way across campus to the difficulty of keeping up appearances with everyone around her suddenly hit Melissa like a train full of bricks. That all-too-familiar shortness of breath came with it too, starting with a massive exhale, the kind that she only ever felt when she held her breath for too long (had she been holding her breath?), before proceeding into panting gasps for air. But, strangely, she didn’t feel like dashing off to a restroom or some other private area to recover. With this old, yet still unfamiliar feeling, what she wanted to do was find her friends. Jun and Elizabeth, of course, were right next to her, or near enough that she could find them. Even Souji and his HEROes could still be spotted without too much effort. Despite their proximity, though, Melissa still tried to address each one of them in turn. “Thank you for saving us in Taylor Hall,” she told Jun. “And for providing the inspiration for all of this.” To Elizabeth, she said, “Thank you for believing in this. You were one of the first to arrive, and we surely wouldn’t have managed without all the help you brought.” And to Souji, Melissa said, “Thank you for being the hero we needed.” And then there was Gabby. Just like Souji’s HEROes, Gabby’s King of Skull Servants had been a product of her own cards, so had not yet dissipated like its brethren. It still towered over everything, even as it knelt down to hand something over to its mistress, which really made her just as easy to find as everyone else had been. But Gabby, well, there wasn’t anything that really needed saying at all. Not in that moment. Melissa waited for her to be finished with her Skull Servant, and when Gabby turned, Melissa wrapped her in the warmest hug she could manage, content that that said enough.

The duel started while Peter wasn’t looking. He’d been too busy listening with one ear to Terry talk about how he was supposedly a hero and how he was supposed to turn his adversity (if one could even call a nervous stomach pit “adversity”) into his strength, meanwhile, the other ear had been taken over by Hana’s cheers. By the time Terry joined in and both sides were in sync, Makoto and Leila were at least one or two turns in. And he knew he was supposed to probably offer mid-match commentary, or at least try to analyze the situation, but without those initial play actions, he didn’t really care to try. Especially since there was such a good alternative in nodding along to David, making non-committal noises. “Mm-hm. Uh-huh. Sure.” And so on. The pit, despite his claims, still hadn’t gone away. He almost wanted to pull out his earbuds and tune everything out again. Tune everything out, and all that. Not that he would, of course, just that he wanted to. Instead, he tried getting into the cheer squad. Hana, still atop David’s back, had never really stopped in her attempts to get everyone to follow her unbiased cheering. Peter wasn’t that lively, though he did quietly clap along to at least the Makoto parts of the cheer, occasionally even saying, “Go Makoto,” along with the other participants. When the turn came back around to their side, he even, in the heat of the moment, added a “Let’s go, Makoto. Come on!” right in the silence between cheers and he felt pretty okay about that. It wasn’t getting better, but it wasn’t getting worse either.