In the latest episode of Chihayafuru, Chihaya finds herself in a difficult position with her right hand injured. This doesn’t stop her from competing, of course, and somehow she manages to win the first two rounds in the Class A bracket using her off-hand. The plausibility of this success is pretty low, but watching this episode did spark an interesting idea.

Inspired by Chihaya’s performance in the first two rounds of the individual tournament and her will to play even with an injury (or maybe stubbornness), I decided to conduct my own little experiment (also because I’m a complete dork). I do not play karuta, but I was curious to see how well I could perform in something I was very familiar with after switching around my hands. The activity of choice was, of course, League of Legends.

League of Legends, which you may or may not be familiar with, is an online computer game that requires two hands to control. One hand operates basic commands such as movement or attacking on the mouse while the other hand controls your spells using several keys on the keyboard. In my case, I’ve been playing League of Legends (and computer games in general) for years using my right hand to control the mouse and my left hand to operate the keyboard. Even though I am left-handed, this is the natural orientation for me. If we remember, Chihaya’s problem in the episode was that after switching to her left hand was that she was slower because she was swinging in the opposite direction as normal. A problem that she fixes by mirroring her cards so that the same motions would be required to hit her cards as normal even though she was on her left hand.

With this in mind, not only did I switch hands so that my left would be moving the mouse, but I also re-bound the controls so that it would be the mirror of what it was. When my left hand was using the keyboard, the index finger would be on button four and the pinky on button one. When using my right hand on the keyboard, my index finger would again be on button four to keep the orientation the same. Similarly, even though I didn’t have a left-handed mouse, I switched functions of the buttons so that it would be the same as what I was used to.

After my controls were set the way I liked, I went ahead and played a few games with this unfamiliar setup. To my surprise, I was able to pick up on this new setup quicker than expected. It felt very strange in the beginning, but with some effort I was able to play with a little smoothness at the end of several games. That said, there were several things that I noticed about my playing during those games that explain why I couldn’t perform as well as normal and also reinforced my thought that Chihaya should not have been able to do as well as she did in those first two rounds of the tournament.

First, of course, is the time it took for me to reach a state where I was almost comfortable with the different controls. At the end of game three I was able to play much better than I did at the beginning of the first game. However, even at that point I would not call my play “good,” and it was certainly not the same level as I am normally capable of. If I invested enough time to practicing, then I’m sure I would eventually reach the level where I could play just as well as before. However, in the show, Chihaya picks up playing with her off-hand almost immediately and is good enough with it to beat two Class A players.

Another problem that I encountered while learning the new controls was that it was hard to forget the instincts that I already have from playing the game. It took a cognitive effort to remind myself that I had to hit the keys on the keyboard with my right hand. And on several occasions I caught myself failing to cast a spell because the fingers on my left hand were tapping the side of the mouse while my right-hand did not move at all or until too late. Also, the fact that I even have to think about pressing the keyboard buttons using my right hand at all indicates that I was moving much slower than normal. With regards to Chihayafuru, it seems almost impossible that Chihaya, the most instinctive character of them all, would be able to adapt so easily to something completely new.

Last, what I noticed from the way my left-hand controlled the mouse was that I had nowhere near the same precision with the cursor as I did with my right-hand. Moving the mouse in the right direction quickly was not an issue, but being able to stop exactly where intended proved much harder. I would very often overshoot (sometimes by rather large amounts) because my left hand simply did not have the control and precision necessary to keep up with what I wanted it to do. And even though the motions of what I was supposed to do were the same as it has ever been, the fact is that my left-hand lacked the experience to do it.

So what does this tell me? Pretty much nothing I didn’t already conclude while watching Chihayafuru. What Chihaya does is pretty implausible, but I’ll cut the show some slack because I still enjoyed the episode. And, after all, it did give me this fun little experiment to do.

Maybe I should try a barrel-roll next time….

Of all the plotlines in AKB0048, the one that I was most invested in was the drama of succession between Takamina and Kanata.

Competition between the idols plays a big part in the storyline of AKB0048. While all of the girls are friends, they are also all competing for the chance to perform, for popularity, and for the right to become a successor. Together they are a group, but they also have their own individual dreams which they must pursue. The General Elections, which puts all of the girls against each other in a contest of popularity, is one of the highlights of the second season because of the way it emphasizes this internal competition.  AKB0048’s unique element of succession also provided many opportunities and becomes a major point of drama when Takamina sees Kanata in the Kirara of Sucession.

Takamina, who is the leader of the idol group and a kind of mentor figure to the younger generation, becomes torn when she realizes that as long as she holds her position, Kanata will not be able to become a successor. It is her dream versus Kanata’s, and unlike Yuuko who is able to put her own dream first even if that means separating herself from everyone else, Takamina is unable to simply disregard someone else. She can’t because she is deeply caring of others and desires to see them succeed, traits which are why she inherited the name of Takamina in the first place.

A personal favorite moment in the series is when Takamina talks to Yuuko while bedridden in episode eight. Takamina is both leader and support, but she also has her doubts. “My singing isn’t great, and my dancing is only so-so. I had no confidence and nothing to be proud of. But when I was selected as Takamina the 5^th, I finally gained some self-confidence.” Here Takamina’s insecurities become clear and this moment won my sympathies for her character. It is painful to watch her struggle because it is not something she can simply get over through hard work and practice. And it becomes even sadder to watch when we realize that the one causing Takamina pain is someone who looks up to her and adores her so very much.

Admittedly, I was a little confused at first about the way the first season ends with regards to Takamina and Kanata. After the concert the Kirara of Succession shows the current Takamina once again which seemed to wrap things up too nicely. However, it makes sense because after the concert is when Takamina’s will is closest to that of the original Takahashi Minami. It was once she began considering others over herself again (such as telling Yuuko that she is thinking of graduating) that the Kirara of Succession reverted. Which is very close to the mindset that Kanata had which caused the Kirara to change in the first place.

Takamina regains her spirit and will to pursue her dream while Kanata remains blissfully unaware of the situation, but the question of what will become of Kanata still remains at the end of season one. And Takamina, because of who she is, still bears the guilt for believing that she is the only thing holding Kanata back from becoming a successor. The situation between these two characters, which provided such excellent drama in the first season, creates a lot of opportunities in the second season, but surprisingly the series chooses to leave the situation unresolved.

Season two re-directs the focus more towards the understudies who are quickly rising in fame after the success of their concert. Kanata’s desire for succession and self-doubt are brought up when Mimori, her closest friend and the only other member left in the “cursed generation,” earns a spot in the general elections. And not long after, Mimori is chosen to succeed the name of Mariko leaving Kanata behind completely. And Kanata’s self-doubts about why she is unable to keep up remind us of the doubts that Takamina had when Kanata was doing so well. It’s a great moment of comparison that works because of all the focus Takamina got in the first season.

However, instead of going anywhere with Kanata’s desire to catch up to her friend, she becomes significantly less important as the show focuses on Chieri and Nagisa. In fact, to my disappointment, the drama between Takamina and Kanata is largely forgotten in the second season.

The only time Season two does anything between these two is when Takamina confronts Kanata about her feelings directly. In episode twenty, after it is revealed that Mimori has been chosen to become a successor, Takamina, who still believes that she is responsible for Kanata’s situation, asks Kanata “would you be willing to drive me out to be a successor?”  To which Kanata responds by saying “I don’t know. To me, both you and the name of Takahashi Minami hold a special place in my heart.” The answer is very much what you would expect from Kanata and by itself it is a great moment. However, this is the last time the narrative between these two characters is brought up as the show then turns its full attention to Nagisa, Chieri, and the Center Nova plotline.

I am a little disappointed that Season two did not do more with Takamina and Kanata after their drama proved to be such a big part of my enjoyment of the first season. However, I also did not want to see the story end in disappoint for either one of them. These two characters are the ones that I was most invested in and made the show for me. So I am okay with how AKB0048 chose to end because it means that both Takamina and Kanata can continue to pursue their dreams.

“He always let his actions speak for him. He’s careful and has a lot of pride. He’s always thinking about what happens when he loses.” – Komano, Chihayafuru 2 episode 19

Nowhere does Chihayafuru hit home for me as well as it does with Taichi’s development over the course of the series.

I used to be a coward. When I was younger I would avoid doing things that would put me outside of my comfort zone. I wanted to succeed at things so I didn’t bother putting in effort or challenging myself when it came to the things that I wasn’t good at. This particular mindset allowed me to excel in certain areas, but it also held me back in other areas. A fair number of opportunities were missed simply because I was too much of a coward to try something I wasn’t familiar with or that I didn’t think I could do well enough.

A good example of this would be how I used to dismiss art as something I didn’t have the talent for. I was content simply focusing on improving myself in the areas of science and mathematics because they were some of the things that I was good at. In time, I developed an interest and a desire to do art, but I continued to hold myself back for a long time saying “I don’t have the talent. I don’t have the talent.” The problem here was not that I chose to focus only on the things that I was good at; there is nothing wrong with that. It was that I prevented myself from doing something I really wanted to do because of my cowardice. The fear of failure and the fear that I could never be as good as my younger brother or my cousin (both very talented artists) paralyzed me and for the longest time I did not give art a serious chance. What prevented me from picking up art as a hobby until about a year ago was pride. I couldn’t bring myself to do something I knew I couldn’t do very well.

“I could spend my entire childhood on karuta without ever becoming better than Arata.” – Taichi, Chihayafuru episode 4

In Chihayafuru, pride is the biggest obstacle for Taichi to overcome in the series. Much like I was in the past, Taichi started out as a coward who has difficulty stepping outside of his own comfort zone and challenging himself for the things that he wants. Even though deep down he does want to play karuta again, the belief that he cannot be successful at it (or as successful as Arata) makes him unwilling to pick it back up again. This mindset comes, of course, from his mother who tells her son “It doesn’t matter if you can play karuta or not, but if you’re going to lose, you’re no longer allowed to play in tournaments. Focus on contests that you can win.” This kind of parenting shaped Taichi into a person who is very conscious of his failures and has a deep desire to avoid them. Success, and only success, is the expectation placed upon him by his family. This has led Taichi to many achievements over the years (as show by the room of awards he has earned), but it has also been to his detriment.

I have gotten better about my hesitance to do something I know I’m not very good at. I cannot connect it to any one event in particular, but rather the result of a collection of experiences that caused me to re-examine myself. As a result, I’ve taken up art as a hobby this past year, and while I’m not particularly good at it, I’m trying to not let my pride hold me back from doing something that I really want to do. It will be a long time before I’m get to the level that I want to with art, but I’m not afraid to take the time work my way up there and accept the failures along the way. In a similar way, Taichi has been pushing himself to become better and better at karuta. He puts in a lot of effort and doesn’t like to lose, but he is also not afraid to lose.

Taichi isn’t just fighting for victory against Fujisaki’s captain or to get into Class A, he is also fighting a personal battle against his own tendencies to walk away and not challenge himself. It is for this reason that I was so invested in Taichi’s success in the most recent episode of Chihayafuru and why I have been and will continue cheering for him for the rest of the series. If that means shipping Taichi and Chihaya (something that will no doubt earn me the ire of my fellow fans), I will do so. Taichi is an ugly character. He is proud to a fault at times and his complaints can be annoying. However, these are the things that make him a relatable character. It is because of his ugliness and faults that I want to cheer for him. Seeing Taichi face his shortcomings, whether it is with karuta or Chihaya, is fantastic and I hope he will continue to conquer his cowardice just like how I overcame and will continue facing my own.

The more I think about it, the more I believe that Diana, and not Akko, would’ve made a more suitable protagonist for Little Witch Academia.

How could that be though? Wouldn’t it be boring if Diana were the one to defeat the dragon at the end considering how talented and competent she is? Isn’t Diana the type of person that we would expect to do so? Wouldn’t it be more exciting to focus the story on Akko, who is someone very unremarkable, and how she succeeds against the odds and expectations of her peers? Were things in Little Witch Academia a little different, this might’ve been the best option. However, as things stand in the OVA, Akko is a poor character and Diana is the more appropriate choice for a protagonist. I will be addressing these two points separately starting with the problems with Akko’s character.

From a narrative standpoint it makes sense to have the protagonist be someone a little average. After all, audiences like cheering for the underdog as it is inspiring to see the unexpected character succeed against the odds. So why is it bad that Akko, an average girl, is the protagonist? Simple, it is because she is not average. Akko’s bespectacled friend, Lotte, is average. The person sitting behind Akko in class is average. They are people who, may or may not be the best at what they do, but are willing to go through the motions in studying magic. Akko on the other hand is not. The problem with Akko and the reason why I can’t cheer for her through the OVA is because she’s puts in no effort. She is a character with a dream and a desire to prove something, but she doesn’t have to work to back it up.

Akko dreams of becoming like Shiny Chariot, the witch who inspired her when she was a child, and that’s great. I love characters that have dreams. I love characters that dream of accomplishing something or becoming someone. I love watching them walk towards and then eventually realize that dream. It is a wonderful thing to see. However, Akko is not this way as she shows no indication that she is willing to do what it takes to accomplish her dream. Rather, she falls asleep in class and waits for that one lucky moment that allows her to shine. And the problem is that the story gives that moment to her. Akko’s success in defeating the dragon is not by any of her own merits, but rather the result of luck. She also doesn’t emerge from the experience any better. If anything, the encounter with the dragon only reinforces her problems.

I don’t need the story to shove messages of hard work and effort down my throat because that’s not what the story is about (more on this later). That said I am bothered by what Little Witch Academia promotes by having Akko be the type of character that she is. Knowledge and learning is not something I like seeing dismissed and the lack of effort put in by Akko is unsettling. That said, this is mostly a problem because the writers went too far in trying to make Akko average. If Akko were simply a girl who lacks the same talent as her peers and is picked on because of her love for Shiny Chariot, then I would be perfectly fine with it all.

So what makes Diana a better choice for the protagonist? To understand this we need to look at the story Little Witch Academia is trying to tell. Defeating the magic-consuming dragon that threatens the school and the witches takes up a big portion of the narrative, but it is not the point. Rather, the story of Little Witch Academia is about the spark that inspires us and sets us on certain paths in life. For both Akko and Diana, this spark of inspiration was seeing performances by Shiny Chariot when they were young. And though she has become dismissive of Shiny Chariot as she has grown up, it is clear that seeing those magical performances in the past played a big part of in why Diana is at the magical academy now.

Young Diana waiting excitedly for Shiny Chariot’s performance.

Diana is already the strongest character in Little Witch Academia, but I think it would have been even better were she the focus of the story because it compliments her character so well. As previously stated, Little Witch Academia is about the things that inspire us. Watching Diana in the OVA, how she proceeds through the dungeon apathetic and bored because nothing can challenge her, it is clear that she has lost that spark that drove her to become a witch in the first place.

Where Akko has a dream and isn’t willing to do anything to achieve it, Diana has lost that dream, no doubt influenced by the general populace of witches who think poorly of Shiny Chariot. Because of this there was great opportunity to have the story of Little Witch Academia be about Diana breaking out of her apathy and finding that spark again. Perhaps it would even be Akko, with her unfaltering love for Shiny Chariot, who would act as the catalyst for making this happen. However they chose to accomplish this, though, I think the story would’ve been more impactful had it been about Diana once again finding her inspiration and enthusiasm for magic. And that would’ve been a beautiful thing.

Turmoil finds its way into Bunny Mountain Market when Choi tells Tamako that she is the bride for the prince that Dera has been searching for all this time. Like with most things Tamako is relatively unphased by the news and expresses doubts that she is actually the prince’s bride. To her it is no big deal, and she goes about her days as though nothing has changed. The people around her, however, are thrown into a state of confusion as they suddenly find themselves faced with the prospect of Tamako leaving and torn between their desire to see Tamako happy and to not see her leave.

Mochizou is heartbroken by the idea of losing Tamako without ever getting the chance to confess his feelings. Tamako’s dad is in denial about the day he knew he would have to face eventually, but has come too soon. Tamako’s friends are shocked by the prospect of a sudden change to their adolescent lives that probably never crossed their minds before. The market gossips and holds meetings about Tamako and what she should. However, while everyone frets and tries to come to terms with what is happening, the question of what Tamako actually wants remains unanswered.

Despite how shaken everyone is around her about the business with the prince, Tamako’s thoughts are somewhere else entirely. After what could only be years of shopping that market, Tamako has finally acquired the necessary amount of points to receive the medal of the market. It is a goal that she has been working towards for a long time and she is overjoyed to reach it. To her it is a big deal, but in the midst of everything else, almost no one takes notice.

Everyone in the market wants Tamako to find happiness, but no one actually stops to ask Tamako about what she wants or what she intends to do. Nor does anyone even consider asking her or consider what her feelings might be in all of this. There’s no question that the people around Tamako love her, but in their determination to see her off with a smile, they have forgotten something important. And that is Tamako’s own feelings about the whole development.

The desire to see Tamako off happily and have her find her own happiness is understandable, but it is also rooted in a concern for themselves. Everyone is focused on their own feelings about Tamako leaving without actually stopping to think about whether she is actually leaving or not. And in jumping to conclusion about what Tamako wants or intends to do, the people around her only manage to distance her. Instead of everyone putting pressure on her with their own assumptions, what Tamako needs is some time to think and maybe even someone to talk to about the situation. Unfortunately, nobody around Tamako is able to support her in that way and if she ends up leaving then the people in the market are partially responsible for pushing her away.

Love isn’t just about wishing the best for someone; it is also about supporting that person and being there for them when they need it, and considering their feelings, even if it is an inconvenience.

It is troubling when a show trivializes the wounds or disabilities of a character, using them to create a dramatic effect but later disregarding them. A lot of shows or manga (especially Shounen) love to injure their characters as a way of illustrating how tough the character is, or how strong the opponents they face are, but then ignore the severity of such injuries by having their characters miraculously heal overnight or regain lost limbs. Removing serious injuries without addressing them is not only noticeably odd, but it can very often work against the story that is being told. On the other hand, when the injuries of the characters are treated with the proper weight, the story is much more effective and what is trying to tell, and this is something that Pandora Hearts does very well.

To illustrate my point about trivializing wounds and disabilities I am going to use an example from the show Claymore. In episode thirteen of Claymore the main character, Clare, loses her arm in a fight with one of the show’s antagonists. Crippled and therefore unable to properly wield her sword with only one arm, Clare has to learn a new fighting technique in order to overcome her situation. Under the teaching of an older Claymore, Irene, Clare learns the “Quick Sword” technique and becomes stronger than before while simultaneously finding a way to overcome the disability. Before she leaves, however, Clare receives a new arm from Irene replacing the one she had lost.

I have a problem with this development. Losing an arm was okay because it was a way to let the character grow and learn. It forced Clare to have to learn how to deal with her disability both in sword-fighting and in everyday endeavors. However, having Clare receive a new arm promptly undermined all of the development that she had just experienced. It is like the author was too afraid to leave the character in the crippled state so the disability was removed after it served its purpose. Rather than trivializing Clare’s development, it would have been much better to leave her with only one arm. Even if that meant that the author would have to account for the character’s odd situation as the story progressed, but that is the responsibility that comes with disabling a character in such a fashion. If the author isn’t willing to treat such a development with the proper respect, then it is better not to do it at all.

In contrast, the disabilities experienced by the characters in Pandora Hearts are a lot more meaningful because they are permanent. One of the characters in the story, Xerxes Break, has a fearsome power, the power of the Mad Hatter, but using it is slowly destroying his body. Finally, midway through the manga, Break overuses his power which causes him to go blind. Much like in Claymore, Break’s disability is a way for his character to develop. Previously a character that tried to do everything himself while not relying on anyone else, Break’s blindness forced him to have to face his own weaknesses. With the help of the people around him (especially Sharon Rainsworth), Break learns to be more trusting of the people around him and willing to rely on others.

The key difference between Break’s development and the development of Clare in Claymore is that Break doesn’t regain his sight after his character change takes place. This is important for two reasons. One, losing one’s sight is a serious change and needs to be handled respectfully. For Break to simply regain his sight would trivialize the seriousness of the disability. One does not simply recover from blindness like they would a common cold and then there is also the psychological trauma that comes with a sudden disability. The other reason, and the more important one, is that it does not belittle the condition. Break does not become less of a character in his blindness. He loses something, his sight, but through the loss he acquires an understanding that he previously did not have. Break does not need his sight back. In fact, to miraculously regain his sight would be an insult because it belittles his character and the condition of being blind with the implication that the only way to overcome his disability is to be able to see again.

Another example from Pandora Hearts would be when Gilbert, the main protagonist Oz’s loyal servant, cuts his own arm off in order to rid himself of a contract that was preventing him from serving his master. Gilbert’s sacrifice is a powerful moment because the seriousness of crippling himself is not lost on us. We see how much Gilbert cares for Oz with the lengths which he is willing to go for him and we are moved because of it. However, the dramatic effect of Gilbert’s sacrifice would be entirely lost if by some magic Gilbert’s arm was replaced. The moment has weight because it is permanent. Because we know that Gilbert has given up something that cannot be replaced.

The exception would be in stories where the plot revolves around the protagonist trying to overcome the affliction or disability (such as Princess Mononoke or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood). But even then, whether or not the protagonist succeeds in his quest depends entirely on the story that the author wants to tell.  In general, though, it is the permanence of disabilities that which makes them  dramatic, and what the characters do as a result of them all the more meaningful.

Aida Mana, the leading girl of DokiDoki! Precure, is a character that is ridiculously competent. The student council president, a very hard worker, and someone who is always willing to extend a helping hand to others, Mana is the type of person that parents and adults look at with pride and peers look up to with respect. But while she is so independent, Aida Mana is hardly the perfect young girl, and her particular character traits, and resultant problems, allow for different types of character exploration. Episode two of DokiDoki takes a look at one of these problems in an episode about being willing to ask someone else for help and the alienating effect of trying too hard by yourself.

The feeling of being “independent” is a nice one. Young people especially strive to prove to their friends and family (and themselves) that they are someone that can be counted on to get the job done. To be able to take care of oneself and not rely on the help of others is a state that they try to achieve because it gives off the impression of maturity and competence. After all, we are all going to have to be able to take care of ourselves one day. There is also a certain amount of satisfaction that comes from being able to help another person when they need it. Not because we want anything in return, but because it feels good to have the ability to do so. I remember back in my highschool years that I worked hard to maintain the image of someone who is confident in his abilities and is always able to lend a hand to others while never needing to rely on others for help. It was a position that garnered a lot of respect from my circle of friends, but I wonder if in doing so I ended up distancing myself from them because of it.

“‘I am covered with fine gold,’ said the Prince, ‘you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor’” – The Happy Prince, Oscar Wilde.

In DokiDoki, the relationship between Mana and her best friend Rikka sees some tension when Mana becomes a Precure and is told that she must keep it a secret to avoid endangering her friends and family. Rikka, who has been Mana’s friend for twelve years now, is perceptive enough to know when her best friend is hiding something from her, so she is understandably upset at Mana’s obvious attempts at covering it up. However, Rikka is also worried that her friend is overworking herself by trying to help everyone. Rikka expresses this concern to her friend by comparing Mana to a golden statue of a prince in a fairy-tale. In the story the statue asks a swallow for help so that it can give parts of itself to those who are in need. Rikka’s story is obviously a cautionary tale for what it may cost Mana to try to help everyone, but Rikka also uses it to convince Mana to let her help when the monster threatens the school.

What I love about this tension between Mana and Rikka and this particularly story is the way it illustrates the relationship between people. There’s a wonderful quote from the show Honey and Clover that speaks to the situation between the two girls which I have included below.

“She just won’t depend on me either. She says stuff like, ‘I can’t cause you trouble.’ But you see, every time she says that, I feel like she’s saying to me, ‘Leave me alone.’ It’s not like I want you to owe me something or push a favor onto you. I just want you to let me have a part in your lives.” Honey and Clover, Episode 17.

Rikka isn’t just mad at Mana for hiding something or for trying to do everything herself, what she is really upset about is the distance that is there between the two of them. Rikka wants to be a part of Mana’s life. She wants to be at her friend’s side and be able to share in the everyday adventures together with her instead of standing off to the side while Mana tries to shoulder all the burdens herself. She wants there to be open and honest communication between the two of them, which is why she is confused when she thinks Mana isn’t be truthful with her and tells says that “if you ever want to talk, be honest with me. I’m always here.”

Mana kept the truth hidden for a brief period out of a desire to keep her friend safe, but she was also hurting Rikka in the process (not to mention herself). After all, being independent and capable has its merits, but trying too hard to be this way can have the adverse effect of pushing others away. There is no shame in asking for help from time to time, and it doesn’t make one weaker to do so. And an honest relationship with friends and family really is worth much more than any impression of independence.

Though it has been close to a year since the first season finished airing, season two of Chihayafuru picks the story up right where we left off without losing a single bit of it’s charm. One thing that I’ve always liked in particular about this show is its portrayal of the competitive aspects of Karuta. Not only because it makes for a very intense story, but also because competitive games have always been a big part of my life. Growing up I played in quite a few Chess tournaments around the country. I competed and placed in tournaments, some even on national level, and on occasion even participated in teams. In recent years I’ve also begun playing League of Legends, and while not as serious as my Chess experience, I still try to be competitive both as a solo player and with my team. Chihayafuru really resonates with me because the experiences and the struggles of the characters remind me so much of my own experiences in the competitive world. And as we enter the show’s second season, and the Karuta club is forced to pick up additional members, Chihayafuru once again impresses me with its depiction of team dynamics.

An issue that will always threaten the stability of a team (and this applies to teams of any kind, really, not just teams in competitive games/sports) is when the individual interests of the members conflict with the team’s vision. This is a big theme in the second season of Chihayafuru, and one that gets brought straight to the front in the first episode as the Karuta club is forced to deal with new members. Expanding their membership is a requirement to keep the club going at school, but there is a disagreement on what exactly should be done with the new members. To train the new members means to take time away from serious practice, which is not time the senior members are really able to spare with the tournaments coming right around the corner. On the other hand, Chihaya makes a great point in that things might’ve been different if their team had another member to substitute in when she had fainted during a tournament last year (a moment from the first season). Fortunately, Chihaya’s reasoning is sound enough to get the other members to agree, but as long as there is a team, the individual interests of its members will always threaten to cause problems.

Take, for example, what happens with one of the new members, Tsukuba, in episode three. The highschool tournament is underway and Tsukuba, who feels confident about his ability in Karuta, tries to secretly add himself to the team line-up for the first match. He is caught and reprimanded by the older members of the club, but Komano, being the total bro that he is, gives Tsukuba a chance with a strategically sound reason for his choice in a line-up switch. Now, things get sorted out nice and clean, but Tsukuba’s actions are still pretty serious. Making a change like that behind the backs of his teammates could have been detrimental and could’ve cost him the trust of his fellow teammates.

Granted, Chihaya, Taichi, and Nishida would’ve still carried the team even if he had swapped in, but in a team with a more even skill distribution, swapping out a member could’ve cost the team the match. Or what about if it was against a tough opponent that could challenge Taichi or Nishida? If either one of them lost then the team would find itself in an even trickier situation had Tsukuba swapped in. Tsukuba’s intentions were earnest, but putting his own desires above the good of the team could’ve had some serious repercussions had the situation been even slightly different.

While Tsukuba may have been given a chance to play, he unsurprisingly finds himself outmatched and humiliated. Anyone who has participated in team play before knows of the horrible feeling of recognizing when they performing poorly and are the weak link on the team. This situation is always really difficult to deal with because the burden of failure and poor performance always weighs heavily on the individual who is struggling. In Tsukuba’s case it would be having to face the reality that he has a long way to go to catch up with his team. This could also be affecting Taichi as well, even though he isn’t a weak player, but the fact that he hasn’t reached rank A yet continues to trouble him. Regret of failures is never rational, which is why one of the things that I really liked that the second season did was bring back the issue of Chihaya fainting during the tournament. Her teammates accepted her reasoning because it was sound, but also because they knew that Chihaya needed to bring in the new members in order to move past what had happened.

Nobody likes being the one making the mistakes, or feeling like they are holding everyone else back, but even if they don’t realize it, Tsukabu and Sumire were helping the older members of the team as well. It is a strange dynamic, but having the less experienced members on the team present inspires the more senior members to do even better (something which Kana picks up on, even though the others probably don’t). Just look at the way that Chihaya is portrayed in the third episode during the tournament. Unlike the silly, over-the-top character that we are used to from the first two episodes, Chihaya in the tournament plays perfectly and even has this aura of elegance that surrounds her while she is in her competitive mode (with one exception, of course).

Chihaya sits there looking so calm and dignified.

Chihaya is probably oblivious to it, but she performed so excellently not only for her own sake, but for the sake of the junior members that look up to her.

If there was ever any doubt in my mind that the second season of Chihayafuru couldn’t live up to the first season, then it is long gone. Emotional investment with the characters is as high as it ever was and the new characters grew on me surprisingly quick. Karuta itself may be something of unfamiliar territory in comparison to more common games or sports for stories, but that doesn’t matter because Chihayafuru does such an excellent job of capturing the spirit and intensity of competitive games and team play. And the best part is that Chihayafuru accomplishes that and so much more.

In the past few days before the holidays I have been taking a trip down memory lane by re-watching much of Aria. Though I’ve seen the series several times, the simplicity and sentimentalism of the stories have not lost their magic. The series is full of strong episodes, but one that I’m particularly fond of is the OVA that takes place between The Natural and The Origination.

The OVA starts off with Akari dreaming of when she is promoted to prima. It is the position that she has been working towards the entire series, but with Alicia gone and a new pair for her to teach, Akari feels afraid for when that day finally arrives. There’s a large responsibility that will come with being promoted to Prima, and Akari’s worries are something that many (if not all) of us can relate to that come from the big steps in our own lives.

“I found out that I still have a long way to go to become like you”

It is easy to view the three water faeries, Alicia, Akira, and Athena, as seemingly flawless characters in their own ways. Alicia especially, who is Akari’s mentor, appears to represent this perfect ideal of kindness, confidence, and patience. We see Alicia through Akari’s eyes as this radiant figure that is high above her, but that is, in fact, only one side of her character. Aria the OVA: Arrieta treats viewers to a different image of Alicia’s character by taking a trip into the past to catch a glimpse of an Alicia who is insecure. It seems completely contrary to Alicia’s character, but what makes Arietta especially good is that it adds a layer of depth to Alicia’s character underneath her seemingly perfect facade.

Akari’s concern is that she will not be able to handle everything by herself as well as Alicia can, but Alicia confides in her about the time when she took over Aria Company and her own insecurities at the time. It was something that Akari possibly never considered, that Alicia could have the same concerns that she has now. But it was true, even the most talented Undine in Neo-Venizia has her worries like everyone else. She, after all, is just human.

Aria the OVA: Arietta is ultimately about the passing down from generation to generation, but there is also a gentle reminder that even the seemingly perfect have their insecurities, and of the way we can help them. Though she did not even realize it, Akari was supporting Alicia the whole time. Even while she is the student in the relationship, Akari’s open-hearted love for the people around her and for life in general inspired the confidence in Alicia that makes her seem so perfect.

“You always stuck right behind me. With your pure heart, you found many wonders I hadn’t noticed. You gave me my confidence.”

The most beautiful thing about the way Akari supports Alicia, though, is that it is done completely indirectly. Akari’s enjoyment of life affects all those around her (including the audience) and I’m sure she has inspired many others aside from Alicia. In a series full of simple, but impactful, messages, Aria The OVA: Arietta has one of my favorites.

Would you enter the world of Alfheim Online?

That’s the question I found myself asking once episode nineteen finished and it’ll be the theme of this post. Follow with me and as we take a look at ALO as a game. Let’s forget about Kirito, Leafa, Asuna, and all the other characters and plot and just look at the system. ALO suffers from some hideous balance issues, but there are also appealing aspects to the game that sometimes get forgotten amidst all of the problems. Unlike the death-trap that was Sword Art Online, ALO offers a large world to safely explore and adventure in. The ability to fly is also a tremendously appealing aspect of the game that offers a completely new experience from real-life.

I am probably in the minority for saying this, but I really liked just how seriously everyone was taking their roles in-game. The faction dynamics in-game remain largely unexplained but what we do know is that the factions can interact on a larger scale than just the individual level and that players can play a big role in impacting the experience not just for themselves, but for entire factions. At the end of the episode Kirito and Leafa set off to stop one faction from ambushing and killing the leaders for two of the other factions.

Plot issues aside (what happened to rescuing Asuna again?), what we notice is that this isn’t just a computer quest, but a diplomatic meeting between two different factions. And until the show explicitly tells us otherwise, I’m even going to say that the leaders of the factions are in fact players elected to their positions by the general playerbases of their respective factions. Anyway, the idea of the faction leaders being players adds of level of depth to the game that is really intriguing. For example, how would they get their positions in the first place? Maybe one faction’s leader was the winner of some kind of gladiatorial tournament. A different faction might require some kind of challenge. And what about the political strife that occurs if some faction members don’t like their leader? This is something we are seeing a little bit of with the nefarious plot going on in the background. But, more importantly, what this indicates is that ALO is a system that is defined by its players.

Making players in the game the faction leaders also opens the door to countless other possibility that come from interactions between different factions. A diplomatic meeting is only the tip of the iceberg, for as long as there are humans behind the characters and not NPCs with pre-determined quests, the possibilities are endless. With that in mind it is hard not to imagine people taking their adventures in game seriously. When people enjoy things, when they become passionate about it, they will naturally take it more seriously, especially with the added layer of realism that comes from the game being in a virtual world.

The appeal of ALO is that it isn’t a game where players group together to interact with a computer, but that it’s a game where players interact with each other. The game, the world, the factions, together all of these things make up the stage, but our focus is on the actors that play their parts upon it. I was originally skeptical about the idea of there being no levels in the game, but it actually makes sense because it takes away the game’s emphasis on grinding levels, and, therefore, interacting with the computer. In essence, ALO is a microcosm and ironically is closer to the image of “living in a virtual world” than the original game, SAO, ever was.