This week’s episode opens with Shingo complaining about his father’s rudeness. He and Makio muse over breaking the curse. The curse of what? Makio says, “Well, you learn to pass down the good and get rid of the bad.” Going by her own words, they seem to be talking about disinheriting their parents’ worst traits. But if that’s the case, isn’t Shingo already in the clear? He seems positively delightful as a person. I can’t imagine him being rude to a nurse like his father. Naturally, Asa overhears the conversation as she always does in this tiny apartment. She must be wondering what curse she must have inherited from her parents. Well, we know her mother was a strict, judgmental woman, and her father was an emotionally distant and selfish man. As you can tell, this episode is all about curses. We are all cursed — cursed by family, society, and ourselves.
Emiri’s eyes narrow as she watches her mother serve breakfast to her father. After all, her mom had just told her that she should be fix her own plate now that she’s a high schooler. So then why does dad get the royal treatment? Gender roles? Because he brings home the bacon? A combination of the above? On TV, one of the commentators remarks, “Someone that pretty works in science? Her dress underneath the white coat is a nice sight.” In response, the father chuckles and says, “That’s considered sexual harassment in this day and age.” The problem is his tone. He seems so dismissive of the problem, which is that a woman has accomplished something in her career only for people to focus on her looks. He gives off that obnoxious “we can’t joke about anything anymore” energy. Emiri seems fed up with the casual sexism in her own home. Maybe this is her curse: shedding her father’s chauvinistic views and avoid becoming like her domesticated mother.
We later see Emiri grappling with society’s casual sexism in general. She overhears her own peers say that there’s no point in being smart or going to college. After all, it’s all for naught once you get married, because women are expected to give up on their careers once they tie the knot. Emiri wonders how she should react; she also wonders what Makio would say. Does she look up to Asa’s aunt since the latter is an established novelist? You wouldn’t think so considering how she just gossiped about the woman’s day-drinking; it feels disapproving. But Makio also understands Emiri’s struggle with her sexuality. How many adults can she say that about? How many adults can she actually go if she needs to get something off her chest?
Speaking of which, there’s a bit of resentment between Emiri and Asa. Lately, Emiri has been ignoring Asa’s message, which the latter finally notices. Emiri feels as though she can’t quit being Asa’s friend due to the tragedy. After all, you would seem cold and heartless to ditch someone who has just lost their parents. At the same time, however, she admits that Asa has been getting on her nerves. You expect your best friend to understand you, but Asa still teases Emiri about boys. So maybe they aren’t best friends. This is a relationship trap that I’m still guilty of falling into: rather than openly communicate her issues with Asa, Emiri distances herself instead. She recalibrates their relationship, so she doesn’t have to have a difficult, awkward conversation. Again, she might feel as though she can’t, i.e. “Why are you complaining about this when my parents are dead?” To put it another way, if Asa’s parents hadn’t died, would she and Emiri still be friends? Can one be cursed with a friendship?
On her way to school, Asa goes through a word association exercise. She’s still grasping and groping for a message that she can write about. She feels as though she has nothing whatsoever to say. In the process, she bumps into Emiri and one of Emiri’s friends, a girl who intends to follow in her parents’ footsteps by becoming a doctor. For now, anyways. Becoming a doctor is a noble profession, but is this a boon or a curse? Meanwhile, Emiri has put herself on the science track, which makes her interaction with her father earlier this morning even more poignant. Asa must feel some way about this revelation, because later in class, she slams her notebook shut in embarrassment and frustration. She had been staring at Juno’s words from last week’s episode. Even though the woman meant well, her words are seemingly taunting Asa by dancing between the lines. Not only did she not know something important about her best friend, everyone seems to have their future figured out. From her perspective, anyways. Meanwhile, she can’t even finish writing a single song. I suppose it would be little comfort to tell her that we all arrive at our destination at our own pace, and there’s no shame in not knowing what she wants to do with her life yet.
Asa’s clubmates have good news: they can audition for the role of lead vocalist with any song they want. Basically, they don’t need an original song. Asa is frustrated, however, because the three of them were initially gung-ho about writing said original song. So what gives? She must feel like she’s been struggling on her own while her friends just moved on so blithely. That’s true, but has she told them that? People can’t read our minds. Did they know that she has been racking her brain this entire time? Has she checked in on them to see if they’ve made any progress on their end? I mean, relationships are a give and take. We can’t just expect people to give us exactly what we want if we don’t communicate those wants. Asa then reflects on her desire to sing, and wonders if it’s actually a curse from her parents.
All of a sudden, Asa no longer wants to audition. She no longer wants to sing at all. Instead, she’s switching over to the bass guitar. Why? ‘Cause she doesn’t want to stand out? ‘Cause she thinks this is her way of breaking the curse? Was she only singing in the first place because she once got a response from her placid father? The previous night, she had the same, familiar debate with Makio again — the classic debate between introverts and extroverts. Why does her aunt sometimes retreat from social interactions? For her own peace and quiet, Makio says. But isn’t that lonely, Asa wonders. Well, loneliness and quietness can be two sides of the same coin. All this time, Asa has been torturing herself in an attempt to write lyrics and for what? For whom? Does she even want to sing? From a certain point of view, she’s giving up. From another point of view, however, she’s giving herself peace, accepting that she doesn’t need to stand out. What does she truly want? Asa still doesn’t really know, but for now, she wants her solitude.
When Asa returns to the classroom, she sees one of her classmates apoplectic in anger over recent news. Oh yeah, I remember this controversy; I think I’ve even mentioned it before on the blog. Sadly, there’s still institutional bigotry in all walks of life. But what does this portend? Is this a sign that Asa’s troubles are finally intersecting with Emiri’s troubles? We’re nearing the end of the season, and it does feel like those two need to hash things out before we finish the story.
Makio realizes that she forgot to celebrate Asa’s birthday, which was months ago. She thus promises that they will definitely, definitely celebrate it next time. She also says they can do something about the upcoming anniversary of Asa’s parents’ deaths if the kid so chooses. The girl has almost no reaction. She’s pretty casual about it. After a couple of emotionally charged episodes from Asa, it’s interesting to see her be so lowkey about a couple of stuff that should be important to her. This is also partly understandable. For her birthday, it’s probably a combination of things. When you’re depressed, it’s hard to derive joy out of life, including a birthday celebration. Plus, she knows what her aunt is like. She doesn’t want to be a bother. She doesn’t want her aunt to celebrate her birthday simply as an obligation.
As for the anniversary of her parents’ death, maybe she feels weird about it. Again, depression can often deaden our emotions, but according to society, we’re supposed to feel a certain way about certain things. Your parents are dead? You should be weeping and wailing on the floor. Why are you not crying? As a result, you feel obliged to go through the motions, which sounds a lot like what Makio’s suggesting: “We can visit their grave or have a monk come over. Something typical like that…” Again, this all feels obligatory. Asa knows that Makio was estranged from the rest of the family. She knows that Makio hates her mother. So none of this is for her aunt. From her perspective, her aunt’s only offering to do anything because she feels obliged to do so. No one wants to feel like an obligation, though. Makio might not intend to, but sometimes, she treats Asa like a curse that she has been burdened with.
Makio still has a certain detachment to Asa, so she thinks she only has to endure this for a few more years: “Well, until she goes to college or legally becomes an adult… I figure I’ll do my best until then.” A parent’s job doesn’t end just because a kid is all grown up, which Juno says as much. Parents still love and care for their child long after they’ve flown the coop — good parents, anyway. But again, Makio doesn’t see herself as one. I have no doubt that she truly cares about the kid, but only in her own terms. Asa might not be able to put this disconnect between her and her aunt into words, but I bet you she can feel the effects of it. And as a result, they’ll always have this uncomfortable distance between them that they can’t bridge, because Makio holds Asa at arm’s length and vice versa. And to be fair, she didn’t sign up for this. She’s a devoted novelist who has suddenly had a grieving teenager dumped into her lap. Depending on what ethical code you follow, she’s not morally required to love Asa like her own flesh and blood. But it can still be deemed a pity that she doesn’t. It’s a shame that she sometimes approaches their relationship as a curse.
On an unrelated note, I’m so glad I have no cursed pictures from my childhood like Juno.
