Asa used to watch musicians perform on TV, and her mother would tease her about possibly liking one of the guys onstage. The girl insists, however, that it’s the song she likes, not not any of the performers. Maybe she’s embarrassed, maybe she’s not. Maybe she just actually likes the music. But this is something parents seem to do a lot. My parents were the same way. I guess it’s fun for them or something. And because they provide for you, or because they’re higher up on the family hierarchy, they feel like this should give them carte blanche to do a little “harmless” teasing every now and again. I dunno, I think it’s shitty to make someone uncomfortable for your own amusement. Yeah, the kid will get over it, but that’s not a good argument in and of itself.

Makio says she can’t take on the responsibility of adopting Asa and becoming a foster mom. Hopefully, she never says that around the girl. She’s with her friends at the moment, and she should be able to open up to them about her true, honest feelings… even if some of those feelings are pretty silly. I mean, of course Asa can be immature at times. She’s fifteen! Makio also says, “Still, I cower at the thought of her being that woman’s child.” C’mon, they’re two separate people. Most of all, no kid wants to hear that they’re exhausting to be around. Makio keeps insisting that she’s barely related to Asa, but I have no clue what that means. Okay, I know what she means; what Makio really wants to say is that she barely knows Asa. But the kid’s literally your sister’s daughter. You are so related. There is just no relationship.

Going through someone’s personal belongings like this — it must feel weird, doesn’t it? It’s like an invasion of privacy, but what privacy? They’re dead. And now you get to learn all sorts of things you never expected or wanted to learn, especially since Makio’s relationship with her sister was so fraught with issues. All of a sudden, she starts hearing one of her sister’s sharp barbs. It’s almost like a jump scare. As I said or implied last week, it doesn’t appear as though Makio has ever processed the symbolic death of her family. She simply ran away from it. By putting it off, she now has to grieve both the symbolic and literal death of her family at the same time. But the funny thing is that the symbolic doesn’t have to stay dead. It doesn’t violate the laws of nature for the symbolic to suddenly come back to life. So who knows? Maybe as Makio confronts her past and thus old hurts, she’ll come to realize things weren’t as broken as they seemed. Perhaps I’m being too optimistic, but she might have some love left for her late sister. You never know.

A lot of focus has been devoted to Asa’s grief, and that makes perfect sense. After all, she’s only fifteen. She’s a defenseless child who now has to cope with a tragic loss. But adults aren’t immune to trauma either. Life experience might have hardened us, but we can still get hurt. And while this episode maintains its focus on Asa’s healing journey, it also reveals that Makio has been on this same odyssey for years if not longer. Maybe she’s been dragging her feet this whole time, unwilling to take concrete steps towards her destination. But now that she has a child to worry about, there’s finally a sense of urgency.

Makio learns that her older sister recently passed away in an accident. An older woman (her mom?) quickly tells Makio to take in Asa, her bereaved niece. Makio tries to protest, because her apartment is hardly fit for a child. Hell, I wouldn’t say it’s fit for a grown adult either. It’s a complete pigsty. Sure, Makio might be reserved and introverted, but I assure you we’re not all like that. A good lot of us can keep our domiciles relatively clean. But Makio can’t, and this is one of the many reasons why caring for Asa would be terribly inconvenient. But you know what else is even more inconvenient? Losing your parents. So tough shit, right? At the end of the day, someone has to step up and do what’s best for the child. I’m equally bemused and saddened by the old lady’s casual hypocrisy. “Have a heart for goodness’s sake,” she says. Excuse me? What about you, ma’am? Where’s your heart? You’re passing the child off to someone else in front of the child. How do you think that makes her feel? In fact, look at all these people who have gathered for the funeral. Where are their hearts? I thought we all agreed that it takes a village to raise a child!