12 Days of Anime: Gifts

Gifts, and gift giving, help us survive.

Maybe not as much now, but human societies and gift giving have always been important to each other: giving and receiving gifts helps with interdependence, the feeling of "If I take care of you, maybe you'll take care of me". Whether it's hosting a party or giving someone change, it also helps the giver with a rush of generosity and kindness.

But enough with the anthropological bit on gift-giving and interdependence. You want anime. So how does this tie in?

Let's use two examples from two of the most-talked-about series this year: Attack on Titan, and Kill la Kill. First up: Mikasa Ackerman's scarf.

We see Mikasa Ackerman's red scarf pretty much everywhere she is: she carries it into battle with her, and is rarely away from it. We do not know what it means: we only know that for some reason, she is very defensive and protective of Eren, the hotheaded boy who wants revenge on the strange Titans and who wants freedom - and will kick your arse.

To the point that even other characters are afraid of her coming after them; she's a great fighter, and this makes her excel as part of the Survey Corps, but she is of few words. She is a red-scarved specter.

And then we find out, in a flashback sequence, about the red scarf. Mikasa was deemed exotic, being as her mother was not a local; her family was attacked, with the idea that she and her mother would be sold into slavery. Her parents died; Eren knew of the family and had gotten himself involved, and with his help (and distraction) Mikasa survived. But at the end of it, Eren's father comes in to try and settle things; after all, what happened? Why are you holding a knife? Is the child Mikasa okay? It is freezing cold outside.

A younger Mikasa and Eren.

Eren gives a scarf to Mikasa, telling her things will be alright, that she's okay now. Someone is with her. Mikasa does not let it go. To her mind, the connection between them is fate and cemented in that red scarf: Eren helped her, so she will help Eren. There are no questions, just action about this; it is set in her mind. Mikasa survived; so must Eren. Somehow.

A less extreme example of gift-giving and the unspoken connections about them is in Kill la Kill; any scene in which Satsuki is drinking tea. Her butler used to serve the Kiryuin family, apparently, but became Satsuki's personal servant instead of serving the family in general; he occasionally says something, but most of his role seems to be serving tea and making sure Satsuki can sit down every once in a while and enjoy it.

Satsuki, in response, says about the tea: it was very bitter when she started drinking tea, but now, she enjoys it. Whether she's talking just about the tea, though, is a matter of interpretation (I think she clearly is NOT just talking about the tea) - you could easily say that after all that's happened to her as a child, she's grateful to have at least one person to make the time for her. Even if it's something as simple as making tea that she can allow herself to enjoy. In response, she has time to relax, compliments its making, and ruminates on the day. She might consider herself alone, but these small actions prove that she is not completely alone in her quest.

Satsuki in the midst of her apology.

Of course, the scene in which Satsuki tries to display the most gratitude ever, and the idea of interdependence and life in gift-giving, is reflected in the scene where she bows to Ryuko (and the Mankanshoku family nearby). She has no thing to give, no uniforms or armor or weapons. But what she can give is not a material thing - she can give acknowledgment, humility, and kindness. She can offer interdependence done properly, which turns into "Let's work together to defeat this mother of ours."

This holiday, we give gifts. Some of us don't have much to give, in terms of material things. But try and look for small things that might mean much to the giver, or to the giftee; in my case, being able to write this is such a gift. Do I have an impact on people? Maybe not, but as Charles just pointed out, Study of Anime would not be the same were I not here. And both of us would not be here doing these things were it not for readers, people listening to us at panels and getting inspired, and so on. This is the 200th post of Study of Anime, and without you it would not have been possible.

Think about your gifts, and what you might be able to give to others. Survive. Rely on others, even if it's just a few people. Give yourself the freedom and luxury to do so, if you need.

Merry Christmas, everyone, and a great New Year's.

12 Days of Anime: Christmas (Parasite) Eve

Watching the latest crop of video game commercials, one comes across a whole lot of “cinematics” being thrown around. Lush, lovely scenes in today’s games that serve to enhance the experience of playing with a television. And as each console generation passes, the line between game and interactive movie blurs even more. Seriously, look at games like Destiny or Wolfenstein- they’re shooters with cutscenes that play themselves off like films, building a world with characters that the player is part of. 

Some of these attempts succeed (Mass Effect, Skyrim...to an extent), and others fall short (Final Fantasy XIII), but the desire to make games more like movies has been part of a trend that stretches all the way back to the 90s. For my final post in Study of Anime’s 12 Days of Anime project, I wanted to focus on one of those old properties, which conveniently begins at Christmas, and proceeds almost to the New Year. 

Parasite Eve was released in 1998 by then-Squaresoft, part of its RPG “Renaissance” that spanned the entirety of the decade. Billed rather proudly on its back cover as “The Cinematic RPG,” Square attempted to move beyond the sword-and-sorcery epics it had made in the past, and focus on a game that blended RPG mechanics with a modern setting. Centered around NYPD Detective Aya Brea (also a “first” as the game had not just a female protagonist, but the sole playable character), who finds herself suddenly trapped on Christmas Eve at an opera debut at Carnegie Hall, when the audience quite literally burns up. What follows is an episodic tale strung together by Brea’s encounters with the mysterious opera singer Melissa Pearce, who is slowly mutating into something else-Mitochondrial Eve, the founder of a new race determined to wipe humanity off the face of the planet. 

At the time I had no idea that the game I was playing (and replaying) was based on a novel, or that it was intended to be a horror game on top of being a new type of JRPG. I was taken in by the cutscenes, the serial nature of the episodes, and the slow-burning buildup to a showdown with a monster on the last day of the year. Aya was an amazing character to play, her active battle system and use of “Parasite Powers” adding bits of strategy to an otherwise straightforward game. On top of that, I played the game right around Christmas, which tied in with the time frame of the story, and honestly made the holiday feel more like Halloween. Parasite Eve was something new, and I welcomed the experience. 

Despite sharing a name with famous novel be Hideaki Sena, Parasite Eve shares little else in terms of plot, characters, or setting. When I first picked up the novel, I was honestly expecting a literary version of the game I had played over and over between 1998 and 2000. But what I read was anything but. Instead of a science fiction horror story set in Manhattan as the world decays into a mass of sludge and mitochondrial terror, the book was for more subtle in its execution, using science and speculation to create an elaborate what-if scenario. What if a man driven mad by grief used science to upend the order of the world. What if his desire to create and sustain life resulted in the ending of it? Much like the seminal classic Frankenstein, Parasite Eve the NOVEL was more about fringe science and mental disarray. 

Parasite Eve the GAME was more cinematic, linear, and definitely focused on the “action” instead of the “consequences.” Its ties to the novel are established loosely, mostly through references to Aya’s mother being named Mariko, who was a teenage girl in the novel. Loss is still confronted, as Aya loses her mother and sister, and almost her sight, in a car accident as a young girl. Like the novel, a piece of her lost family is left behind- her sister Maya’s cornea, transplanted into the young Aya. This postmortem gift would prove to be advantageous to the girl, who gains a hint of the power that Maya’s other harvested organs bestows upon opera singer Melissa- just enough to harness in defense, without losing her sanity as Melissa does.

But the sense of frantic loss and the devouring need to impact the present is missing from Aya’s story. She confronted her loss as a young girl, and has grown up a bit distant, but still stable. Toshiyaki Nagishima, on the other hand, obsesses over his brain dead wife (influenced by Eve, but still playing out the role of the grieving husband). The sharp sense of recent loss causes him to fall prey to suggestion, which in turn perverts the genuine affection he had for his wife Kiyomi, and transforms it into something...else. Just like Eve is a transformation of mitochondrial cells into something...else. The beauty of both love and life are upended, stolen, and warped by the presence of a malicious force claiming to be the mother of the new world.

And now for some wild, completely ridiculous commentary. You have been forewarned. 

On December 24th, 1997, Eve arises in Manhattan, to replace mankind with something she describes as “superior.” “Ultimate.” Something that will sweep away the flawed parasite that is humanity and replace it with “purity” and power. Eve succeeds in bringing this new force to life, but mankind ultimately continues on its path of destruction, and kills the infant before it can implement change. Though some express regret and wonder about what could have been, and life goes on.

Definitely NOT Jesus...

Somewhere in the deep past, on December 24th, a young mother prepares to give birth to a child who will (hopefully) change humanity. We are broken and flawed, consumed by greed and sinful impulses. This child will force us to confront those flaws, and transform into something better, stronger, more powerful. Maybe more pure, but that has yet to be discovered. The child is born, lives a life of teaching, and is then killed by those same humans he was born to save. Though some express regret and wonder about what could have been, and life goes on. 

Now I’m definitely not going to say that Parasite Eve has anything to do with the birth of Jesus, aside from the fact its set during Christmas, and uses the birth of an “Ultimate (mitochondrial) Saviour” that will change the world as a central plot point. Many, many authors died just now as I made that statement. But given how the book twists something beautiful like birth, rebirth, and transcendence into something terrifying, allegory might still apply. 

Parasite Eve is a blend of philosophy and speculation, not just about human emotion, but also about the perversion of human emotion. Eve is supposedly looking out for her child’s best interest, but that child’s motivations are unclear. It is destroyed in both novel and game right after being born, showing in part "proof" that its aberrant form equates it with being a monster. But at the same time Aya’s final words in the game flat out decry humanity’s relationship with the planet, comparing us to the ultimate parasite, as opposed to the symbiosis between nucleus and mitochondria as espoused by Eve. Maybe the Ultimate Being would have been a savior for the world, but Aya still kills it. Humanity keeps on living, and hopefully learns from their mistakes. The saviour might promise a better world, but its up to mankind to make that decision for itself. And the latent fatalism of both book and novel claim that mankind is neither strong enough, nor determined enough to take that step. 

One more dead author...

I played Parasite Eve a total of 8 times on the Playstation. And 5 more times on the PSP. One of those times was last night, as I blasted through the game yet again (I can clear it in under 3 hours now, thank you EX mode) in preparation for this post. While the graphics are now clearly dated, and the mechanics clunky when compared to recently released the games, it’s the story that drew me in all those years ago, and it remains sharp to this day. The same voices that infused drama and emotion into the tale of Aya Brea still resonate, and still motivate people to experience the world they created. While I for one would adore an HD remake, at the same time there’s something timeless about a game that came out almost 15 years ago still retaining its relevance, and enjoyment. 

Merry Christmas, and bless of EVE-ry one. 

12 Days of Anime: schoolgirls and Japanese history

The time has come. With three days left in this rundown of 2014 anime, it’s time to finally center a piece on the show that dominated my year, opened my eyes (and mind), and influenced me more than any other series I watched this year...or any year in recent memory. A wonderful blend of obscure references, flashy art, over-the-top characters and storytelling, and more fan-service than I am usually willing to indulge.

It’s time to write about Kill la Kill.

First off, I know for a fact that I’m not the only one writing about this show for this project. Kill la Kill is as synonymous with 2014 as Attack on Titan was last year, and Madoka Magica before that. It’s one of the most visible series to come out recently, and has creatively inspired countless cosplayers and artists. And anyone who has seen me at cons this year knows how big a deal this show is for me as well. I’ve practically (or literally) yelled about this show at some 19 conventions, podcasted about it, blogged about it (in one case, for an upcoming journal), and spent copious time putting my thoughts to paper for my first e-book. This show was lightning in a bottle for the flagging anime fan in me: it came around at the right time, and re-ignited my love for anime and all things Japanese. It literally was THE SHOW for me. 

But it all started with a single scene. 

By now, my story about watching Kill la Kill for the first time is old hat. Sitting in Starbucks, taking a breather from a massive tome on yokai and Japanese history, I decided to see what all the fuss was about with this new show. I’d read it was classic, evoking the same sense of wonder and enjoyment that brought a lot of my friends into anime in the first place. And of course, from that opening sequence with Gamagoori pounding on the No-Star, I was caught up in how much it reminded me of Gurren Lagann, and all those 90s shows that were my first experience with the medium. 

And then she appeared, the radiant goddess, most beautiful of all 2-D girls, standing there atop her citadel, and ready to enlighten her people to the “truths” of the world. She yelled at “me,” and I was forever hooked. Here was a modern, lovely, and compelling iteration of the Sun Goddess herself, and she demanded my adoration and respect. 

(And believe me, that doesn’t happen very often, especially with anime characters. You could say that at that point, Kiryuin Satsuki became my “waifu,” the strongest anime crush I’ve ever had, and one that persists even now.) 

A few posts back, I called attention to those moments this year when people have approached me and told me how my panels and lectures have influenced their lives and driven their own pursuits forward. How inspiration can be compelling, and can hit you like a truck when you least expect it. 

The idea for what would become Shuten Doji vs State Shinto happened in January, when I was mulling over Ryuko’s role in the series, and how it could fit into the State Shinto cosmology I had been assembling piecemeal for the Shitenno and their Radiant Sun Goddess. Somewhere along the way it got into my head that she looked, and acted, like an oni. The horns, the blood, the violent resistance to fascist order- it fit in with some lore I had read last year. But it hit me HARD. In a moment of clarity that could only have been made better by shouting “Eureka” at the top of my lungs, I grabbed my copy of Noriko Rieder’s excellent “Japanese Demo Lore,” began scribbling down ideas on a post-it note, and running home from the bookstore. Kit might still even have the text message. That was where it began.

Rieder’s book got me interested in the otogi-zoshi, Japanese Muromachi period folk tales. Research into those tales and their traits drove me to research both Buddhist concepts of emptiness, and the history of Inari in Japan (and particularly how Inari is approached and worshipped). A desire to know more about the Japanese “identity crisis,” hinted at in books I’d read years ago, led me deep into the Postwar period, a time I had only superficial knowledge of. That led me to Embracing Defeat and Japan Unbound, which clued me in to more books on Hiroshima and its fallout, motivated me to finally devour Showa-Shi, and spend real time speaking with Japanese friends about their own family experiences. 

As my knowledge of Japanese history increased, as points of information were challenged and changed, as my body of knowledge grew, so too did my relationship with the series that had inspired me. And in turn, so did the panel that had started at a way to focus and commit to text my ideas, so i could share them with my fellow fans. While all my panels evolve as I learn new things, with Kill la Kill that evolution happened rapidly, was spurred on by my ravenous consumption of new ideas, and transformed me just as much as it transformed my material. It’s been a year-long process, with those moments of clarity happening more and more as my reading list became longer and longer. 

One of the best things to come out of this entire project wasn’t the panels, or the books, or the long discussions I’ve had with people- it was how Kill la Kill motivated me to read more about Japan than I ever had previously. I watched fewer anime this year, read fewer manga, played fewer games, than in the past five at least. But at the same time I discovered more about Meiji, Postwar, and contemporary Japan than I’ve ever known.

And honestly, it’s been one of the most validating years I’ve ever had. Prior to discovering Kill la Kill, my interest had been in yet another slump, as burnout slapped me silly and kept me trapped in a little bubble of ennui and old video games. All it took was one moment to motivate me, and subsequently turn my year around. Half the fun has been the lectures and the book writing, but the other half has been the welcome craziness of discovery and strengthening my knowledge of Japan. That same sense of seeing things in a new light that attendees have told me my panels brought them, brought to me by skimp clothing and a massive crush on an anime girl. 

On the tenth day of anime...I found my inspiration, dressed in a sexy school uniform. 

As an aside / addendum:

We've talked about this before, but the idea that Satsuki represents perfection and Ryuko doesn't partly explains why they appeal to me so much. They contain both harm and well-being individually, but it takes both of them working together to balance each other out. 

Bear with me here.

Satsuki is the ideal of the person I want to be: she is a survivor, but skilled against manipulation and mental/emotional tactics. That's not to say that Ryuko isn't a survivor either: but where Satsuki excels in the mental and emotional sides of things, the "skyscraper in your mind" technique, Ryuko excels in being more physical. She is more stubborn and manages to keep standing despite everything that's (quite literally) thrown at her. She's blunt, and wears her emotions on her sleeves - if anything, she's too passionate, to the point of Senketsu pointing out that she's going to run herself into the ground if she's not careful. When Ryuko despairs, it takes physical things like food and shelter and clothing to soothe her: when Satsuki despairs, it's not so much the physical chains as the metaphorical ties that bind.

And yet, when they work together, they find balance. Satsuki realizes she needs to take more full-frontal action, while Ryuko starts understanding the more emotional sides of things - that Satsuki was expressing her own sincerity and desires just in her own quiet way. 

I'd presented with Charles before on panels, but the Kill la Kill panel was really the first one we'd built from scratch with both of us in mind. And even though it can use some polishing even now, it is balanced. Not too passionate, but not too subdued. Accessible, and yet awesome.

It even helped me remember my Japanese, and to be more confident - things I'd thought I had lost.


So thank you, Studio Trigger, and Aniplex, and everyone. I found balance and  harmony in a story about two sisters who needed each other all along. - Kit

12 Day of Anime: Yokai Can Feel the Christmas Spirit

Christmas is often called the season of giving. We all hear the old adage “tis better to give than to receive,” and the airwaves are full of stories and images of excited recipients of unexpected “Christmas surprises,” of which the giver occasionally remains anonymous. Right there alongside the excitement of opening presents, we are consistently reminded of practicing charity, compassion, and mercy- all values that are universal, but particularly emphasized this time of year. 

Earlier, I wrote a long essay on the film A Letter to Momo, focusing on how the power of love can extend beyond death, and the impact the departed have on their surviving loved ones. But right alongside that message was another, hidden behind the hijinks of crafty yokai Iwa and Kawa, and revisited repeatedly as the film reached its climax. Altruism, selflessness, can be just as powerful as love. Particularly since altruism often transcends family ties. 

Iwa, Kawa, and Mame have been sent down to earth to watch over 11 year old Momo by her deceased father while he undergoes the spiritual transformation from human to family kami. Momo’s father’s love is selfless an unconditional, even after the fight that was their last communication, and he sent down three “imps” to watch over her and her mother. Since he cannot be there, he makes arrangements for their safety, and hurries on to what comes next. 

But Iwa and Kawa, an open-mouthed giant and his kappa-like sidekick, have other plans while on Earth. Rather than spend time ensuring Momo’s wellbeing, they play pranks on her, eat all the food in her house (and the village), and tell wild lies about who they are and why they are there, also at poor Momo’s expense. Much of these pranks are played for laughs, benefitting the obviously bored yokai, who get a rise out of seeing Momo lose her temper and snap at them. They get her into trouble for the benefit of their own amusement, and put Momo’s safety in jeopardy on more than one occasion. Despite being sent to protect the girl, their rampant selfishness has the opposite effect most of the time, and their responses are little more than shrugs and snickers. 

Then Iwa makes a critical mistake: using Momo’s most prized possession- a letter her father started to write, but never got past her name- to send a report back to their celestial handlers. His half-assed attempt to follow the bare minimum of his duties practically destroys poor Momo. The girl, already having a rough time coming to grips with her father’s death, and feeling equally guilty about causing excessive stress to her mother during this trying time (itself a bit of selfishness the girl needs to confront later), finally snaps, and in that moment, Iwa realizes the depth of his failure.  

Now if Iwa were a typical yokai, he might have laughed at the girl and went on his way, but that was definitely not the case. Iwa (along with Kawa, and Mame) was in fact being punished by forces up above, cursed with an unending hunger and a compulsion to work off karmic debt through serving as guardians for those below recently bereaved. Even so, he still lived a life full of resentment, self-pity, ennui, greed, and selfishness. And what was worse, he didn’t care, apathy being expounded by his constant hunger. His associate Kawa, in the same boat, eggs him on to keep shirking the duty for the sake of their own comfort, but seeing Momo’s tears gives Iwa pause, regret, and finally empathy for the girl. He has to make it up to her, by any means necessary. Even violating his divine oaths, breaking the rules of being a guardian, and knowing full well he is sacrificing any chance at forgiveness by doing this one good thing for Momo.  

People think of Christmas as a time of family, a celebration of love, or a reminder of how much consumer culture rules our nation. But we can’t forget that part of the Christmas spirit (or, if you want to really be theological, ALL OF IT) is embodied within the birth of Jesus Christ. Regardless of whether you view him as the son of God, a rabbi or holyman, or some kind of Western Buddha, the story of Jesus is one filled with selflessness, sacrifice, and compassion. For the son of a carpenter and “teen mom,” Jesus was one of the most loving, thoughtful, merciful, and compassionate humans ever to walk the face of the earth. His recorded life was full of selfless deeds, and his death was a moment of sacrifice meant to save the world from sinful urges and selfish thoughts. Even if you don’t subscribe to the divinity angle, even if you think the entire story is one huge chunk of propaganda, you can’t forget that the original message message behind Jesus is one that screams LOVE THY NEIGHBOR. Even if thy neighbor is selfish, or conceited, or a downright ass, loving them is more important that letting hate make decisions. 

Now Iwa has been the biggest ass of all time to poor Momo. He’s allowed his own laziness to cause her more trauma, which in turn will lead to a stern lashing back in heaven. So rather than try to weasel out of it, first he protects Momo as she runs out into a storm (which ends up being Momo’s big, selfless sacrifice during the film), then he use whatever influence he can muster with the powers that be to give Momo the one thing she needs. Not her letter, but what her letter represents to the young girl. 

As the movie draws to a close, Momo and her mother stand on a beach, watching as lanterns released by the entire town fly higher into the sky. But before they can leave, one returns to land, bearing a single sheet of paper, with Momo’s name across the top. As the girl unfolds the paper, words being to appear- a message from her departed father. Overcome with emotion, Momo cries tears as her father’s final missive is completed there in her hands, saying the words she had imagined since his death, giving her the closure she desperately craved. It is Iwa’s gift to her, collapsing the boundary between life and death, and giving a little girl one last chance to hear from her father. Before arriving on earth, the imp was self-centered and chafed under his duties, but after that one encounter with the scared, lost girl, he discovers that sometimes doing for others is more comforting than doing for yourself. 

It’s cliche to say that somewhere over the course of the movie that Iwa “discovered the spirit of Christmas,” but when you take a step back, isn’t Iwa demonstrating the same altruism that supposedly fuels that spirit of the holidays? It IS a holy day for Momo’s new home, one full of celebration, lights, and life. The yokai just decided to piggyback on that and give Momo the closure she needs. He grants her the “christmas miracle” there on the beach, and helps a little girl believe again. 

On the 9th day of Anime...I almost cried, because even monsters can sometimes be human. 

12 Days of Anime: Gunslinger Girl, gifts, and humanity

This guest post brought to you by a friend of Kit's, James Hinton.

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A few years ago I was a deployed solider in Afghanistan desperate for entertainment. Anime DVDs had become the primary source of such entertainment. They were easily purchased, easily shipped, and easily packed away in the very limited kit I could port from FOB to base to who knows where.

One of the series that I got into at the time was Gunslinger Girl. This grim series fitted my mood of the time. Young girls, turned into cyborgs and used as living weapons, drugged into remorselessness? Daaaaaark. It suited.

So why am I talking about such a grimdark series that I was introduced to years ago as part of this year’s 12 Days of Anime? Because the English translation of the manga released the final volume this year (thanks to Seven Seas). Throughout the series the sheer inhumanity of turning young girls, often the victims of horrific crimes themselves, into unquestioning killing machines humanity prevails, and it is at Christmas that this comes out clearest.

One of the focal “fratellos” (partnerships, from the Italian for "sibling") of the series is that of Hillshire and Triela. Hillshire is a former Europol investigator. He is cold, calculating, and haunted by his past. Triela, his cyborg, was nearly murdered in a snuff film. She’s acerbic, sharp witted, and very aware of who and what she is. It is very clear that Hillshire views Triela as his weapon, and that Triela chafes under this.

But it is at Christmas that we begin to see under that abrasive shell. The initial impression, as is often the case, isn’t the fill story, or even the majority of it. The relationship within their fratello goes far deeper, and is far more caring than that of a tool and the one using it.

As Christmas approaches for the first time in the series we find Triela and one of the other cyborg girls, Henrietta, discussing Triela’s collection of teddy bears. Hillshire, it seems, has been buying them for her as rewards for good work. Henrietta express a little bit of light-hearted envy, but Triella, it seems, isn’t so fond of Hillshire’s rewards.

The fratello receive an assignment that has them out and about for Christmas. Throughout the chapter we get to see the continued friction. After capturing a mobster who knew Hillshire from the past, Triela gets into a conversation with the man about Hillshire. The mobster asks if she is getting along with him. Triela admits to their struggling. “Siblings don’t necessarily get along.”

After Triela is injured during an escape attempt by the mobster, things change though. We get a look at the human side of the fratello, particularly the almost robot-like Hillshire. He confesses that he isn’t really sure what he is supposed to do for Triela, and then shows an interest in trying to learn her interests.

In that moment, the relationship has a subtle, but fundamental shift. It hadn’t been the teddy bears that annoyed Triela. It had been the uncertainty in the relationship. She wasn’t sure what Hillshire really thought of her, and was certain that the friction was because he didn't care about her or what she thought. His confession helped her to realize that he was just as confused as she, and through that a small bit of understanding, of humanity creeps through.

Certainly the next Christmas that comes is not one where all of the problems are gone. If anything, things are even more intense, and full of even more conflict. I won’t talk about it because of the spoilers involved, but the humanity of both Hillshire and Triela comes to a boiling point as each is filled with regret and sorrow for the harm they think they have done to one another. But it is these points, these Christmas tales where we truly get a feel not just for the horror and tragedy of the series of Gunslinger Girl, but the triumph and basic goodness that can come even inside of darkness.

Thinking back on that first introduction: in Afghanistan, where I was in a kill or be killed environment, it strikes me that a series that seemed to touch my own dark mood was, in its own way, the one that helped prove to me that humanity is always there. Even in an ugly world of violence and a need to shut off one’s humanity to get the mission done it is still there, still making us vulnerable, still making us weak. Yet it still gives us the strength to put one foot ahead of the other, relying on the other people around us. We are Hillshire. We are Triela. And together, no matter how tough it can get, we’ll make it.

You can also watch the animation of Gunslinger Girl through Hulu or Funimation.

12 Days of Anime: Tackling the Bucket List at Anime Central

How many of you readers keep “bucket lists?” Things you absolutely need to do while on this journey of life? I personally have 2: experiences, and conventions. Stuff I want to do that is definitely out of the norm (like be a contestant on a televised game show, which I scratched off in 2005), or places I want to visit (like the time I spent $500 going to Stonehenge because IT’S F’ING STONEHENGE). I first heard the term at a con, actually, way back at Anime Mid Atlantic 2008, when some of my friends were commenting on which shows they want to watch (which I call my backlog) or which conventions they needed to attend. Back then, I only had one- Otakon- and had it in my head I would never get a chance to see it. 

Today, my “bucket list” is considerably longer, focuses on regions more than conventions, and has a few stalwart events that I first heard of back in 2008-09, which I am giving the old college try to finally see. Some of them are unfeasible simply due to distance (Sakuracon, Fanime, AX), others due to expense (A-kon, Nan Desu Kon, Anime Fest), and others...well, no idea actually (Animazement, Yamacon, Anime North). For some reason or another, these cons are all ones I want to see, but combinations of factors have kept me from visiting. 

Prior to 2014, Anime Central was also on that list. The largest convention in the Midwest, and I believe the third or fourth largest in the country, Acen assumed the position vacated by Otakon after I scratched that off in 2009. It was big, it was fun (at least according to people I know who had visited), and it had the largest Artist Alley of any con, anywhere (also according to friends...in this case, Kit). The biggest mark against Acen? It was located in Chicago, which is a bit far outside my travel zone, despite being the next “major city” west of me. 

Well, fortune smiled this year, and I managed to finally get to Anime Central. It might be the first time I attended a con for the guests (in this case, Crispin and Helen), but as this was likely the only time I could manage to make the trip, it made sense to just throw everything to the Windy City, and experience something new. 

Back when I started attending cons, there was always this sense of excitement to taking the trip. Going outside my comfort zone, or places that were familiar to me, satisfying that wanderlust I was raised with, those were stronger motivators for hitting the road than the fandom were. That was why I smashed myself into the back seat of a car to visit Anime Boston and Tekkoshocon, or why I stayed awake all night before the road trip to that first Neko. There was an excitement built into anticipating a new place, a new thing, which motivated me to experience it to the fullest. It was why conventions became so powerful for me, and likely for a lot of attendees through the years. 

It was also lacking a lot in recent memory. One of the downsides to doing as many cons as I do is the monotony- after a time, every event starts to feel the same. Rather than getting excited about just being there, it became seeing certain people, giving certain panels, or making the road trip itself (I’ve gone on record saying there are cons I go to specifically because I like the drive). Time seems to smash together, and passes in a blur, which leads to confusion when I mistake happenings at a con two year ago for one I just attended, or forgot that awesome closing ceremonies video AJ and I spent a full weekend making was three events ago, not last year. 

While I did manage to visit a lot of amazing places in 2014, Anime Central was the perfect mix of new and exciting. From connecting with friends who had moved away, to seeing a new city, experiencing a new event, making new friends, and spending time being all anime-nerdy with two of my idols, Anime Central had the kind of energy that I used to feel all the time back in 2007-2009, when cons were still somewhat new to me, and I was navigating through a fandom that was experiencing changes and transformation of its own. It felt nostalgic, but also refreshing, to encounter a convention vibe that I hadn’t felt in years, and get swept up in a new energy. No matter that Anime Central was different from what I was used to- that just made the weekend pass by differently, as I observed and took in how another branch of my fandom chose to experience community.

Last year, Tom Stidman wrote about how cultivating fandom identity often requires the fan to examine their own role in the community. I wholeheartedly agreed then, and I do now. One of the definite benefits of 2014 was forcing my old, stagnant identity out into the open, where I could actively critique the fan I had become. I often mention Kill la Kill as lighting the proverbial fire under my ass when it came to appreciating anime, but at the same time there were the new conventions, new audiences, and new experiences that flavored my year much the same. I went outside my routine, discovered new worlds waiting for me, and in turn managed to approach my annual events with a new light. It definitely made my entire year feel more productive, and more authentic. 

Sometimes we can get swept up in who we feel we are, or in the expectations we believe others have of us. This is not living authentically, it is another form of conforming. One of the benefits of fandom is that it should allow us to be who we are, experience life as we want to experience it, and surround us with likeminded individuals who encourage our growth as people. Anime conventions that I’ve attended in the past were always those places for me, and for many of the attendees who commented on my surveys and interviews back when I was in grad school. But settling into routines, developing expectations of events, and trying to make everyone happy is a disservice to  all involved. It distracts us from what’s important- community, friends, family, devotion, compassion. 

Which, in this season, are values that are consistently hammered home. Love thy neighbor, love thy brother, love thy otaku. 

On the 7th day of Anime...I went far and wide, to find something close to home. 

12 Days of Anime: Revolutionary Girl Utena

This is not a new film, nor a new series, but I still remember the day - earlier this year, February or March - when I was watching Revolutionary Girl Utena (Adolescence of Utena - the film) and was thinking about ideas of 'the prince'. We know the type, through fairy tales; the prince saves princesses. The prince is noble. The prince is idealistic, a friend to all, and so on.


But in the film for Revolutionary Girl Utena, Akio was dead; so was Touga. Both had a period of innocence and idealism that seemed to be crushed. But why then, was Touga held as the prince, and that people - namely, Utena - was able to let his memory go? What about Utena? What about Anthy? This series meant so much to me, but it was hard to discuss it in words, just by myself. Obviously the film was dense, and carried its imagery literally, but aside from that, how could I express what I was thinking about it?

And I remember: Crispin Freeman saw that I had been watching it, and remembered us talking about myth and archetypes before, and offered to talk to me the next evening. He had been the English dub voice of Kiryuu Touga, and still remembered the role fondly; and with a series like Revolutionary Girl Utena chock full of playing on archetype and fairy tale, witches and princesses, it was something that easily led itself to discussion. Thanks to him, my panels involving Revolutionary Girl Utena have also gotten better, more tightly organized and plotted; thanks to him, I was in the end better able to communicate what I wanted to say about the series, and why it was important to me. This movie was one of the first things I enjoyed discussing in general, before there were educational panels at conventions, and so discussing it has a special place in my heart.

I also remember this year reconnecting with a friend of mine who used to cosplay from Revolutionary Girl Utena (as well as other series); it had been about ten years since I had last heard from him. And the friend - ten years ago or so - had helped me get through a really depressive patch in my life.

Funnily enough, my friend also had cosplayed the character of Kiryuu Touga.

In the film (as opposed to the series) Kiryuu Touga seems like a mysterious princely figure: perhaps he is a bit coy and teasing, but at the same time, tries to inspire the people he knows. But only a few people can recognize him: Himemiya Anthy can, Tenjou Utena can, and - apparently - so can Takatsuki Shiori, as well as Arisugawa Juri. All of these girls have apparently interacted with him in some way in the past, and seem to keep his memory of how he impacted their lives alive; some more so than others. But even if Touga is a prince, and rescues princesses, and does all these wonderful things - even if that is the case, he has his own secrets, and his own methods. And what of the girl who wants to become a prince, too? What of the idealistic people who want to have noble goals? What is to become of them? What can become of them? Do princes exist at all - and should they?

You could also easily examine the gender roles and expectations that go into the framework of such a story. Can a young woman be a prince that saves princesses? What does it mean to be a prince? What does it mean to be a princess? Or a witch?

I revisit watching the film of Revolutionary Girl Utena every so often. I change, and so every so often I get something new out of watching it again. I watch it also when I'm going through bad times, just as I watch it when I have fond and happy memories.

But sometimes, too, I watch this film and remember the people I've met and talked to because of it, or about it.

And for that I am grateful.

12 Days of Anime: Audiences and Confessions

Today’s message isn’t brought to you by anime, but by anime fandom. Which most of you know I have a great love for. 

2014 was a milestone for me, in more ways than one. It marked a year when I managed to lecture at over 20 cons. I managed to pull at least one con a month as well, something else I had been trying for the past few years. I also got a chance to scratch one major convention off my bucket list (Anime Central), something I plan to write about in another article. And I ran a successful crowd-funding campaign early in the year, that kept me from going completely insane before the Summer hit. All in all, a great year of firsts. 

It also marked the 5th year I’ve been on this strange journey, traveling all over the place and speaking about Japanese culture. When I got started, way back in 2009 at Nekocon, it was just a hobby for me, that over time managed to transform itself into something more. I presented on topics that meant something to me, that I felt were missing from programming tracks, and had a chance to expand my own horizons, while offering fans differing views about the medium, and showing them that there’s more to anime than flashy art and exotic characters. Those early panels were carried on the strength of enthusiasm, and a desire to be a “better fan” than I had ever been before. It was my way of giving back to the fandom that had been such a huge part of my life since my teenage years. 

Well, after half a decade of lecturing, this year I started bumping into attendees who have been following me all these years. Be it at Nekocon, Katsucon, Anime Boston, Otakon, Anime Mid Atlantic, or Anime NEXT, there was a fairly steady stream of “kids” (which is the only way I know how to describe them, me being a old man and all) approaching me after panels and telling me how those same panels had impacted their lives. They had been in the room those early years when I was still figuring things out, and had taken away from my panels that anime is what you make of it, and how you choose to perceive the medium often colors how it touches your life. 

For some, it gave them confidence to try their own hand at contributing to fandom, instead of just consuming it. Others approached me and said how my own panels on mythology and religion had caused them to switch major in college, or incorporate anime and Japanese culture into their class projects. Still others said that through my content, they had decided to follow their own dreams, and try something unconventional in life, just to see how it worked out in the end. Art, writing, performing, or even paneling themselves, these future generations of fandom had seen me up there, talking very loud and fast, and decided they wanted to take part.

Those who know me well are aware that, at heart, I’m a teacher more than anything else. I was always inspired by those in school who added wit and energy to classes, in hopes of enlivening material and leaving a mark on their students. Those truly dedicated teachers who see the next generation as something to be nurtured, and spend their time making sure those who pass through their classrooms recall not just schoolwork, but a community based around the joy of learning. My fifth grade teacher, in particular, took the idea of “edu-tainment” very seriously, and those students fortunate enough to have him for the year ended up learning a whole lot, but thinking more of it as a fun way to pass the day, rather than a class full of lessons. It was from him that I developed a love of learning, and, indirectly, a lot of how I approach my content and choose to present it.

Looking back on what I “do” at cons, I probably never would have called myself a teacher back in the beginning. I was an excitable fan, scared out of his mind, and channeling that fear into dynamic public speaking. My content, while compelling to a lot of those attendees in the room, was riddled with errors and flaws, but I made up for generalized material with a whole lot of enthusiasm, which is what ended up imprinting on those audiences. Many of those attendees today have told me that it was the energy more than the material that got them interested, and awoke inside them their own fires, to reach out and teach other fans about their own passions. The fact that someone was mixing their fandom with education, and making it fun, opened their eyes to a much larger world, and it inspired them to do the same. 

Now those same attendees are in college, or preparing to embark on further studies and projects, and they took the time out to let me know about it. And in turn, they’ve left a mark on me. Confession time: I’m not the outgoing, confident person in real life that I am on stage. Conventions are performance art for me. I spend most days feeling woefully insecure, wondering if I even made the right decisions in college, grad school, and in accepting to go with the fandom flow. I have regrets, and they are a big part of me sometimes. Right in the middle of cons, I sometimes get very withdrawn, wondering if this is all there is to my life. And sometimes I have darker thoughts. 

But when I meet people I’ve inspired, suddenly I feel like my old teacher, way back in elementary school. He was a man who loved teaching, and loved “his kids.” They were part of his family. And that’s how I often feel about the people I’ve met. Seeing someone who first wandered into my panels at 16 suddenly telling me about following his bliss makes me smile, because I helped him discover that. It gives meaning to what I do. And keeps me coming back. Every year I swear is my “last year” in fandom, and every year I need to revise that. 

As 2014 draws to a close, I can look back on all those people who reminded me this year about why I am who I am. Anime brought us together, but memories keep it going.

On the fourth day of Anime...I looked back on the past, while planning the future. 

12 Days of Anime: Noragami

In the year of talking about major kami and yokai, there is a little show on Netflix called Noragami that focuses on forgotten things, on a minor god so small, he doesn't even have a shrine to 'live' at.

Yato is exasperated. He's trying to raise money to have a small shrine - anything will do, really - by taking 'delivery' jobs, odd jobs, anything. His Regalia weapon for exorcising Phantoms (monsters borne out of emotional pain/anxieties) has just quit, he's alone, and in his own words, it's as if he's nothing. He doesn't want to be just nothing - he wants to be somebody - but he just doesn't know how.

A girl called Hiyori can see him, just as she can see anything else; she can also hear the thoughts of those around her, on edge or not. A room full of anxious students trying to take an exam becomes a room full of bullies telling her to just hurry up and die, that she's not even trying, she's different and weird and can't she just read the atmosphere already. She can see yokai (called Phantoms, here), and the otherworldly, and fears that she is different. That she is not the lady her parents wanted her to be. After trying to save a boy (Yato, the minor god) from an oncoming bus, she is struck by it herself and is now on-the-fence between the Near Shore, where the living are, and the Far Shore - in other words, between the living, and the dead. She's not quite living, but she cannot sleep when she ought and falls asleep / "loses her body" frequently - but she's not entirely dead, either.

She seeks Yato's help, and Yato agrees - charging the five-yen coin customary donation ("everyone knows you give five-yen coins to kami!"), because after all, there's no such thing as a free wish.

This is no Attack on Titan, and unlike the other Funimation-released show Inari Konkon Koi Iroha (available through Funimation at last check), this show does have battles and start out with more drama. In a way it's a bit like Inari Konkon as a series had a slightly older brother; instead of focusing overmuch on the relationships between characters and making it a slice of life / romantic comedy, this series is action, recognition, and about two hurt beings. This is no great like CLAMP's xxxHolic, but it's fun and interesting - a look at how deities and the forgotten operate in modern Japan, alongside modern anxieties like passing major exams or the pain one might experience in hospitals.

That's why it appeals to me: because it is about the lost and forgotten. The broken, the desperate. 

And how important recognition can be.

 

From Episode 1 of Noragami.

2014 personally brought a lot of change into my life, and while it's been rough, I have received a lot more personal and professional support. I got out of a toxic situation. I presented at more panels and traveled to more places than last year. I've worked harder on this site and on panels, translated for ghost and monster stories, and got to meet more people such as the wonderful Helen McCarthy or Zack Davisson. I also had more work opportunities than I had before, even to the point of writing for Anime News Network and starting work on a game.

For those things, I'm grateful, but there's always the phantom of seeing other things: loss of work, jeers, insults, threats. So as we near the end of 2014, I hope that those phantoms - born out of emotional pain and anxiety - can melt away, like softly falling snow upon a shared umbrella, and usher in a better 2015.

12 Days of Anime: A Dandy Guy…in Space

I didn’t want to back-to-back my experiences in 2014, but while looking over my list of things to write about, my eyes kept being drawn to today’s topic. And the silly idea that my year ended much like it had began- with a collaboration that would give me pause to reflect. Hopefully, I won’t wax too much, or let tangents guide me through this until it turns into one, long ramble. Or maybe I will. Sue me. 

Right after the New Year dawned, I found myself in Vegas. After narrowly escaping a blizzard from hell on the East Coast, I had a massive culture shock as I wandered around the lights and glitz of the strip, where coffee costs $6 A CUP and porn is handed out in trading card form. Really classy, family-oriented stuff. But I wasn’t there on pleasure per se, I had been tapped to present at Otakon Vegas, which to this day still surprises me. I had never been to Vegas before, and likely never will again, but THE CON got me there, as it will be getting me to Texas and Michigan early next year. But I digress...

See, I'm already letting my mind wander...

One of the highlights of Otakon Vegas was the WORLD PREMIERE of the Watanabe feature, Space Dandy. I recall some buzz around this project when he announced it in 2013, and given that it was viewed by so many as the potential spiritual successor to Cowboy Bebop...I knew I would probably never watch it. Or at least make a half-assed attempt to see a few episodes, then promptly forget it existed. (You read my last article, didn’t you? THIS IS NOTHING NEW FOR ME.) Needless to say, I did not attend the actual premiere, but rather watched half of the first episode on Adult Swim Saturday night with the staff and Mike Toole, who were definitely more into the show than I was.

It took me three weeks to finally sit down and watch it, with AJ, in her basement. See, while I was busy with cons and forgetting who I was, AJ, god bless her, had been following the show, and making damn sure I was in the know about it. So it only made sense that we watch it together. In a trend that will become common by the end of this special series, it usually takes two-three episodes before I an hooked, and that is exactly what happened. Those early instances of “what?” and “huh?” that I kept saying over and over during those first episodes were gradually replaced by laughter and anticipation for the next episode. 

Space Dandy is an excellent example of the throwback- a contemporary series, which appeals wonderfully to fans of “classic” shows, in this case the “classic” being COWBOY-F**KING-BEBOP. Seriously, there will NEVER be another Cowboy Bebop, and Space Dandy doesn’t even try for that. Like I wrote above, the best it can be is a spiritual successor, and that’s exactly why the show works. Rather than duplicate the success and genre-defying experimentation that made Cowboy Bebop such a landmark in anime, Space Dandy takes some of the irreverence, tosses in a few token references to the series that “spawned it” (and now we know what happened to that rotten rock lobster), and then proceeds to make love to EVERY OTHER CLASSIC GENRE it can lay its animated hands on. It’s like Kill la Kill, just not as serious, and with maybe 90% fewer boobs 

Boobies scenes notwithstanding

Which is why it always confuses me that this show doesn’t seem to be as popular as it should be. Call me a jaded old man, but at every con I went to this year (some 24, if anyone’s interested), I saw a few pictures, a cosplayer here and there, but reactions for that Dandy guy in Space tend to split right down the middle: viewers either loved the show and its many references to classic anime and storytelling, or have no opinion at all (+/- 2% who have expressed hate for the show…seriously, how can you hate Dandy?). Whenever I would bring up Space Dandy to an attendee, replies of “I’ve never heard of that” or “yeah, didn’t really watch it” were the usual first responses. Which is something of a shame, given how well-done the series was, and how it strove for a universal appeal by copiously borrowing from so many shows, genres, and trends. Following the live-Tweet sessions during the final few episodes, browsing the Tumblr links, and snorting with friends at the in-jokes and campy episodic nature of the series (thanks, Monica, for helping me form those thoughts) was part of the experience, which hearkens me a bit further back to the "old days" of group viewings and in-person commentary, which have faded away in my life now. 

Maybe I am getting older, but sometimes I miss the anime that mixed meta in with memorable. Shows that can make fun of themselves, or call attention to their inspirations. Shows that remind me why I started watching anime in the first place. Kids on the Slope blew my mind because it spoke to something deeper, and kindled a powerful emotion based around music and storytelling. Space Dandy, on the other hand, made me laugh, made me cry, and reminded me of how crazy a lot of older anime were. Dandy wasn’t aiming for serious drama or deep storytelling, it was a love letter to the same fans who got into anime when the medium was a figurative mess- no rules, minimal genre markers, and an industry in flux. A medium before internet dominance would blur all the lines and meme the hell out of whatever caught its attention. And it channeled that as nostalgia for the most part, reminding this old fan of what he first laid eyes on in the late 90s. 

That’s how I felt while watching Space Dandy- like a kid again, being introduced to anime for the first time, and loving the hell out of it. I’ve been a fan for 17 years now, and while sometimes my mind can wander and latch onto other things, I always manage to return. Space Dandy was one of those calls back, one I’m really glad I answered.

On the second day of anime...I reconnected with an old friend, both mentally and emotionally. 

12 Days of Anime: Kids on the Slope

One of the “unintended consequences” of congoing for me tends to be adding to my already gigantic backlog of series I "need" to watch. This backlog, which started in 2002 at AXNY when I spent $80 I didn’t have on Central Park Media’s new release of Record of Lodoss War: Chronicles of the Heroic Knight, is often measured in physical size, abstract proclamations, and rundowns of how much space on my three external hard drives is full of episodes I know full well I will never watch. 

Yep, that’s how I roll: I see a series at a con, or hear about it from friends, take the time to acquire the show, and then it vanishes into the netherworld of data and broken promises. Like some kind of evil fandom publisher, I get all excited about prospects, but only one out of maybe a dozen manages to work its way into my schedule- the exact same odds as if I just happen to be in the room when something is being watched, and following it to the end. I am a master procrastinator, and sometimes get distracted by shiny things like Netflix or Persona games, which then dominate my time for months on end with promises of Tiny Fey or dungeon mapping, and those shows that once were the MOST IMPORTANT THINGS ON MY RADAR eventually become forgotten. 

Along the way I’ve missed out on some great series, but every now and then I manage to rectify an oversight, which is exactly how I came to finally sit down and appreciate Kids on the Slope. Nevermind the fact that its another Watanabe/Kanno project, nor that it’s freely available pretty much anywhere, nor that I had heard so many great things about it. Until the day after Sangawa Project last week, I had never bothered to sit and actually experience the wonderful journey that is Kids on the Slope, despite it filling pretty much all my “required categories” for viewing. 

For anyone who hasn’t seen the show, do not go in expecting anything like Cowboy Bebop, which is usually the standard bearer for Watanabe/Kanno collaborations. Do not go in expecting tongue-in-cheek humor or anything speculative. This is a show about the bonds we make with our friends and those around us. It’s a slice of life that reflects a literal slice of life- postwar Japan, stuck in a forward march that would bring the nation into the modern world. It borrows ideas about god and religion, how music affects the composer, performer, and listener, and how temporal things can be. Over 12 episodes, four years of school life are experienced, the highs and lows, and how happiness can’t always be defined traditionally, or even expectedly. Kids on the Slope manages to carry the weight of a series two to three times its length, but never feels compressed or hasty. Much like a literati might not want to see Dickens’ Pickwick Papers end, it does, but leaves the viewer satisfied. 

Oh, and the series manages to tie all this together through the use of jazz. Given Kanno's involvement, this is not a surprise. But the jazz is something entirely different than the flavorings from Cowboy Bebop- in this case it is a central character in its own right, a locus of activity rather than a scene enhancer. The music, the emotion, the energy, and the interactions that color the character's lives all revolve around the power of jazz music, and how certain Japanese embraced it. It's also one of those moments of culture trade, whereby Japanese identity has been challenged, but also united, around an expression of creativity that brought people together, rather than forced them to conform. Subtext within the series says as much, with revolutionary practices generating the same emotion that powers character to discovery themselves as the nation does much the same. 

A lot of my thoughts about Kids on the Slope are reflective of my thoughts about BECK. For those who don’t know, BECK is my favorite series, because it also encompasses many of the same time-and-place instances where emotion crosses the boundary between the real and the animated. What I love about BECK is how real it feels, how organic the story progresses, and how the characters (particularly Koyuki, Ryusuke, and Chiba) drive the story more than what they do, the actions they take. But what really pulled me into BECK was its use of 90s alt-rock culture, and how music can cross national boundaries and bring people together. The idea that BECK wants to create music for the sake of creating music, and how they want people to experience truly powerful emotions while listening to the products of that creative impulse, draws me back into those same years, when I was a young(er) man, caught up in a mess of emotions myself, and how music was the one force that helped me make sense of them. Those times led me to a stint in the music industry, where I met plenty of bands just like BECK, who would teach me the value of creativity and dedication, and would inspire me in their own ways to leave something for future generations, no matter how challenging it might be. 

Watching Kids on the Slope, I couldn’t keep myself from wondering how I might have reacted had I been from that time period. But it also reminded me that music isn’t temporal itself, especially jazz, with its rich history and powerful legacy. While the show only touched on the impact jazz made in Japan after that war, the fact that the show used the music to illustrate character growth, but kept the camera fixed on the players instead of the movement, kept me hooked. What started out as an episode or two became three, then four, then a trip to the game store, followed by a marathon that only ended when the cat let me finally stand up and reflect on what I had just seen. 

I rarely marathon anime anymore, especially subbed shows, but when it came to Kids on the Slope, I had to see how it ended. There was no putting it off. The music was always there, in my ears, and it demanded that I finish what I began. So, with no distractions, I did. I consumed the entire show. It was only a single day for me, but that was enough. This was a year full of those “just enough moments,” which future articles will point out, but this most recent instance still stands fresh in my mind. However uncommon it might be for a series to grab me and force the experience, Kids on the Slope did. And it reminded me once more of why I appreciate the medium so much, 

On the first day of anime...I remembered how stories can be told, and why its important to listen.