Said notes ended up longer than expected, so I’ll have to split them into three parts. I invite you to take advantage of the lag time between posts to rewatch Toradora! yourself!

Episode 1

Taiga casts an ominous shadow over Ryuuji’s life before the two ever meet.

Said shadow breeds mold. Ryuuji cleans the mold.

The show actually sets up its B-plot — by which I mean all the family troubles that occur throughout — earlier than I remember. Ryuuji can’t bear to be compared with his dad; as far as the first-time viewer knows, Yasuko is kind of a deadbeat, foisting the role of adult off onto Ryuuji. And of course there’s not a parent to be seen in Taiga’s big, empty apartment.

I’m almost convinced that this is Rie Kugimiya’s best work ever. If she’s this good elsewhere, tell me now so I can rectify the grievous holes in my experience.

Episode 2

Ryuuji is so lame. His hobbies are cooking and cleaning, and sometimes he says ridiculous things.

Hazukashii serifu kinshi, dude.

But of course that’s why I so enjoy him. There’s generally more going on in the mind of the teenage male than, you know, mammary taxonomy. Maybe the anime Ryuuji is somewhat less normal than the novel Ryuuji — and that’s alright, I say. I don’t know where this puts me in the spectrum of literary opinionists, but I think the main character of a story needs to be a little atypical, or else why’s the story about this person in the first place? Human nature is best explored through the eyes of someone who is a little off, as truly “normal” things are rendered pointed (though ideally not quite stark) in contrast. Look at Leopold Bloom, for example, or Akari Mizunashi.

Episode 3

You may know that I always side with the tsundere. I should find Minori a little annoying, at least. But I don’t, which I suppose is a testament to how well-written these characters are.

She’s more than a genki girl, that Minori Kushieda. She’s outright weird in the most delightful way. And she remains an intriguing mystery.

Why, after all, does she spend all her time at school and work — what is it about her home life that keeps her away? Or maybe she’s simply restless, as later evidence seems to suggest. Or maybe…maybe we could speculate all day, and that says something about Minori’s effectiveness as a character: she keeps our interest, an impressive writerly feat in itself.

Episode 4

Dammit, Kitamura.

You know what this is? This is a shoujo show for men. You’ve got all the romantic thrusts, parries, and feints, but it’s all from the point of view of a young man — a young man who shares certain things in common with shoujo protagonists, most notably his dauntlessness (and his domesticity? Don’t know; not going there). And I don’t suppose I need to explain how the female characters are moe constructs — in fact, I especially appreciate that Toradora! demonstrates how characters born of moe can still be compelling in terms of their relationship to a plot, though it’s hardly the only example of that.

I didn’t realize previously that Toradora! was written by a woman, which is interesting in itself.

Episode 5

Oh, Ami — how I longed to hate you! How, in the end, you didn’t let me!

Taiga’s flyswatter attack feels immensely satisfying — even now, when I know that Ami will eventually say all the things I’d say to these people if I could, and that, in a certain late episode, Ami’s fist will carry with it all my hopes and dreams.

Ami’s a strange specimen. In most everyone else’s case, we see how virtues become flaws, and thereby balance out into traits; Ami is introduced as flawed from the beginning, with the provision (via Kitamura) that the friendly (and manipulative) act she puts on is less desirable than the selfish, conceited Ami who emerges in the presence of people like Taiga, people who won’t stand for her nonsense. But even the latter seems like an extreme, and what we observe in Ami’s case, as things move along, isn’t really the shedding of one facade; it’s the shedding of two, or perhaps the integration of personality variants into a more functional whole.

Episode 6

Do we see the real Ami in this episode? Not to any great extent, I’d say; even her more genuine lines sound forced. But this is only the beginning for her, after all. She’ll get better.

Probably the closest thing we get to the Ami who shines in the second half happens when she confronts the stalker.

I remember being a little dissatisfied with all the Ami-heavy episodes prior to the midway point the first time through. Watching this again was a good idea.

Oh, and Kitamura is kind of a douche, isn’t he? I’m talking about his using Taiga for things like his Ami Restructuring Project when he knows damn well how things stand with her. Though at least he has already given Taiga a straighter answer than Ryuuji gets from Minori throughout most of the show.

Episode 7

Taiga is a bro.

This episode is about breasts. No, actually, it has a lot to do with Taiga and Ryuuji’s physical relationship at this point.

We see that Ryuuji isn’t too terribly concerned about confronting Taiga in his underwear:

Maybe not a huge deal, but it’s something.

Then, of course, there’s Taiga’s revelation of her swimsuit problem:

Ryuuji has the grace to show a little shame at this point.

But that notwithstanding, they’re pretty comfortable around one another, physically speaking. There isn’t any pressure on them to succumb to the mating urge with one another. And it’s for this reason that the climactic grope is something far more (or far different — or far less?) than the harem romance grope to which we’ve become used. It worries both Ryuuji and Taiga, to some extent, but it isn’t really a tremendous deal. It’s an unfortunate accident, but not something to get hung up on — in short, it doesn’t really matter, and that’s unusual.

tl;dr Taiga and Ryuuji have something rare, even by episode seven. Theirs is something between a sibling relationship and the relationship between two same-sex straight friends. It’s no wonder that they worry so much about messing things up in the end.

Episode 8

I still don’t think that Ami becomes too terribly interesting until this episode. And of course we have the beach episodes coming up, too.

More than anything, this episode simply feels necessary, so it’s difficult to say much about it. Taiga becomes confused about her feelings right around the time that either her or Ryuuji should’ve. The initial wingman relationship wouldn’t have carried the show forever — and so I suppose I should say that this episode is an example of good pacing.

There’s the end, too, which, while a little weird, is hard not to feel good about.

By the end of this episode, the nakama has assembled, and while I remember episode 13 being a killer midway point, I wonder now whether the show isn’t more logically divided into thirds. We’ll see how that turns out.

Sometimes, while working on homework, I start talking to Otouto-kun. This is almost always A Bad Idea. But, occasionally, we end up having conversations which are…if not insightful, then at least entertaining. And this is, after all, what the Pontifus and Otouto-kun vs. series is about — isn’t it?

Below, my dialogue is indicated by the red ani (兄) kanji, and Otouto’s is indicated by the blue oto (弟). Yes, we’re experimenting with different ways of indicating who speaks when. We’ll see how this works out.

Eons ago, I wrote the following:

…if [Taiga and Ryuuji] decide to try romance, will they listen to Ami for once and realize that, once they’ve started, there is no going back?

And, what do you know, they even touched upon that.

Taiga likens the kiss to “a rough, dry wilderness.” This is after she says “it’ll definitely hurt.” Not that she doesn’t like it in the end, but she comes to realize the place of the kiss amidst all that’s happening: it signals a definite end to one thing and the beginning of another in an unavoidably physical way. It’s simple, but that’s really all I ask for. Toradora! delivers this little detail for me just as it’s delivered so much else.

I like Ghostlightning’s final thoughts on the show:

Trust in people, be responsible, delay your gratification, look past what is apparent, be true to oneself, be free to love, treasure your friends, cherish the family you’ve got… I can take all of these away from watching Toradora! and wholly without irony. Instead of being clobbered on the head with these ‘life lessons’ I feel invited to consider them. My enjoyment of the show isn’t contingent to these, but they do add value. I seldom if ever watch a show for its ‘message.’ But I’ll gladly take away a message I discover or create out of my experience of a show.

Couldn’t have said it better myself. Which, uh, is why I blockquoted Ghostlightning.

Honestly, I’ve come to think of Ami as unafraid of anything and everything, a rock in a sea of uncertainty. I figure she’ll be okay if she ends up alone in the end, which seems likely; she knows what to expect, and she seems to have that sort of endurance. But that’s just the thing — she seems to have that endurance. For all we know she goes home every day and frets and cries herself to sleep. But if Ami doesn’t maintain her game face, no one will. Does it really matter? I don’t know; I’ve always thought so, but then I’m generally the game face guy in my friend circles.

Interestingly, the ghost of the vending machines is, by Minorin’s report, “A heartbroken girl who took her own…” …Life? That worries me. Ami doesn’t really have anyone to vent to — I’d be interested in seeing her break down at some point before the end and vent to someone, anyone. It’d probably be Ryuuji, I suppose. In a sense, Ami is the heartbroken ghost who haunts the vending machines — but at least it’s been alright so far, as Minorin notes.

Regarding yesterday’s post, I suppose episode 22 handles Taiga x Ryuuji about as well as can be expected, meaning it keeps things fairly ambiguous and restrains itself from making Ryuuji admit to some latent undying love that hasn’t been evident until now. He mentions enjoying Taiga’s company, but, well, of course he does — that’s no surprise. He can feel that way and not want to date her. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising for him to feel that way and have a genuine aversion to dating her; as Minorin (who is surprisingly astute in this episode) notes, it may be preferable to avoid the intangible if it puts the tangible at risk.

You know, normally I really dislike romantically ambiguous ends, but I think it may be the best route here.

Ryuuji and Taiga’s relationship is, at present (though perhaps not for long), what I’d call romantic friendship (lolikitsune elaborates). They employ some of the trappings of people in love, such as taking care of one another domestically and making sacrifices — what they have can probably be called love — but there’s no apparent sexual attraction, nor do they make overtly romantic gestures toward one another. Honestly, I think ambiguously romantic gestures are some of the most romantic of all…

…but that’s beside the point; the point is that romantic friendship is complicated. It’s hard to know precisely what it is at any given time. It can evolve into full-blown romance, and it can devolve into friendship (with the caveat that “evolve” and “devolve” are awful words for this situation in that they imply heirarchy), but the process is rarely simple. First, are Taiga’s feelings for Ryuuji of the truly romantic variety, or does she simply think they are? What of Ryuuji’s feelings for Taiga, which he hasn’t made totally clear recently? What does “truly romantic” even mean? And if the two decide to try romance, will they listen to Ami for once and realize that, once they’ve started, there is no going back?

My brother concludes that he’d almost rather see Taiga and Ryuuji in a pity-based or rebound relationship — gloomy prospects, sure, but perhaps more fulfilling than obvious contrivance.