• Pontif.us will be relegated to various team and multimedia projects, i.e. Strike Witches (which will continue; we’ve just gotten behind on things, due to other things). I may also do very brief posts here occasionally. In short, this site will host weird things that don’t really belong anywhere else.
• Longer solo posts of mine that aren’t super-critical will show up on We Remember Love, which is awesome 1. because it’s one of my favorite blogs and 2. because my posts will actually get better exposure there.
• Super Fanicom will never change, though I do, miraculously, have some ideas for posts over yonder. Bear in mind, too, that SRS BSNS proceeds as planned, or will, if I get enough contributions from people.

Perhaps you’re in that line, too, even as you read this. In that case, I invite you to seek us out and bequeath your comments upon us in person.

The reactions of those I’m following on Twitter have thus far proven predictably varied:

OneManga’s shuttering up too. Not sure if there’s any big sites left. I wonder what’ll happen. (canon_chan/CCY)

I don’t read scanlated Manga on the web but this made me sad T_T (UntoldHero)

Whoa, One Manga capitulates… damn (Kabitzin)

So Onemanga is dying…Mangafox/Toshokan then? (seinime)

Here’s hoping you come back legal One Manga, cheers. (chrisbzay)

Hahahhahaha YeS ! no more OneManga ! hahahaha Fuck yeah ! Fuck you onemanga, Fuck you ! Greatest way to start the day ! :D And now to hope that all the motherf*king online readers all fucking die and Never come back ! Learn 2 irc (Kurotsuki)

As for me — well, I’m with those who feel a little upset at how things have turned out. And not just because I have only a few more days now to catch up on some of my manga-reading, inconvenient as that is.

Yes, I resort to illicit fan-translated manga from time to time. I also put money into the industry, when I can…

…so, please, try to resist the urge to denounce me as a pirate or cancer or something.

Recently SDS offered an account relevant to the kind of fan I am:

I once told someone that I pretty much only buy DVDs of things with which I’m already familiar, to which he simply responded, “Why would you buy something you’ve already seen?”

Whereas I saw my ownership of DVDs as a testament of sorts to the shows I felt were good and enjoyable enough for me to have them in my collection, the other person saw DVDs simply as a way to try new things out. In the end, we agreed to disagree. [SDS, "Enter Animefan"]

(For a nice dialogue on the commercial aspects of fandom, see also the posts that led up to the one quoted, one by SDS and another by Omo.)

A purchase of anime or manga means something more to me than the acquisition of story data — it’s a modification of my physical collection, a statement about the kinds of things I like and would want to lend out to friends. And, besides that, money is hard to come by when you’re a graduate student, and with none of my anime-viewing friends nearby, how am I supposed to expose myself to things that I may later buy? And, hell, that’s not to mention that some things just aren’t available in the United States, nor will they ever be.

This is why the online piracy trade is so critical to that thing we do — and, I’d say, to the industry itself. I’m not going to say that online presentation and distribution represent the future of anime and manga, much as that seems a logical outcome, but I will speculate that legal and illegal distribution channels have achieved a kind of balance with one another, and things like the closure of a manga scan site represent shifts in this balance that could affect both sides.

Simply put, a decrease in the number of channels through which budding fans can, easily and at no cost, acquire the fix required of early fandom probably results in a loss of potential consumers somewhere later on. Where would the industry be without those who entered into the fandom, as I did, thanks to the illicit availability of Evangelion, Trigun, Love Hina, and (yes, even) Naruto — a body of fans who aren’t teenagers anymore, who can now afford to pour money into their hobbies? (For me this extends into related industries. My HDTV, Blu-Ray player, and external hard drive all owe their places on my desks and shelves to my having happened upon fansubs on Kazaa and Limewire, back in the day.)

I’m referring here to the process of a fan-via-piracy going legit, so to speak, which of course won’t always happen. But we’ll always have piracy, and I wonder whether, ultimately, the profit doesn’t outweigh the cost. Perhaps filesharing hasn’t been around long enough for us to know.

Mind you, none of this should be construed as an excuse. Watching or reading a licensed franchise illegally deprives the U.S. industry of needed money (assuming, of course, that you’re a U.S. consumer). But my point is that this in itself renders illegal viewing neither morally contemptible nor harmful to the industry in the long run. An illegal download now may mean a fan with a day job five years from now, a fan who may remember that show of five years prior with the kind of fondness that empties bank accounts.

Consider me and Aria, for example.

While not my single favorite franchise, the Aria anime is easily my favorite 52 episodes of animation. I’ve bought all of Aria that’s available in the U.S. — that’s four DVD box sets and seven volumes of manga. I’ve recommended and re-recommended the show. And I’ve blogged about it — here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.

But would I have done all that if not for CrystalNova’s fan subtitles? Absolutely not — in fact, it’s Aria that made me a slice of life fan to begin with; it wouldn’t have occurred to me that I’d ever enjoy the thing if I hadn’t seen it for myself.

Maybe the fan translation business acts in some ways similar to how TV broadcasting of anime works in Japan — it’s our basic way of sampling things without having to pay for them — but I won’t go that far. All I mean to say here is that the closure of One Manga could, in fact, be a big deal relative to the U.S. industry as a whole, particularly if similar closures follow. We can only hope that, when the balance of power rights itself, neither the industry nor its consumers suffer terribly for it.

Of course, I’ve handily taken advantage of the situation to express the kinds of views I usually withhold, and so perhaps I’ve misrepresented the scale of things. There remain plenty of other means by which to acquire fan-translated manga. But when things happen as in the case of One Manga, one has to wonder.

Which is to say, welcome to another installment of our most self-sacrificing of team features! This episode was kind of boring, I think. But fear not — such things have never stopped us before. And, anyway, if the next episode preview is to be believed, great things await us just ahead. We need only reach them.

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.

We heft the cross of Strike Witches — a cross so weighty with teenage undergarments that even Zac Bertschy hasn’t energy enough to lambaste it thoroughly — yet again. But this time, we’ll have the aid of the stalwart OGT, who, being a sound strategist, seeks refuge in numbers.

Below, you’ll find my comments indicated by the red ani (兄) kanji, Otouto’s by the blue oto (弟), and OGT’s by — what else? — the green kame-o (かめ王).

But perhaps you might like to know what sorts of things I’ve been doing in my internet absence (still ongoing, at the moment). Yes, this is one of those posts, wherein the blogger simply provides a list of recent activities, but I’ll try to strain myself a bit and include some assorted thoughtful observations.

Let’s see, then. In recent weeks, I have:

• Finished Parasyte. Holy shit. Setting aside the plot itself, I’m beyond impressed with the technical aspects of this one, the pacing in particular.
• Continued to collaborate with Otouto-kun and OGT to put an Otakon panel together, said panel bearing the provocative title of “You Don’t Like Moe — And Here’s Why!” But I don’t suppose it will end up as combative as it sounds (consider again the list of participants). When I know where we fit into the Otakon panel schedule, you shall know as well. And if you can’t make it out (if you happen to live on another continent, for example), fear not; I intend to record the thing and make the video available to the masses.
• Moderated (with OGT) audio reactions to a certain infamous novel, though I wasn’t able to participate in the latest.
• Recorded and edited, at long last, my reading of Cuchlann, with Cuchlann’s aid. You’ll see this soon; look to his blog.
• Re-read Dune, which is still as fun as ever, but I always have to laugh at how much of a caricature Baron Harkonnen is.
• Read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, which isn’t bad, but, in my opinion, suffers whenever Chabon succumbs to certain tiring lit-genre conventions. I expected a novel that is essentially Bakuman set during the American golden age of comics to be a little more innovative, I suppose.
• Re-read the first Shakugan no Shana novel, for some reason, and thereafter had some ideas on light novel illustrations versus the sorts of illustrations that show up from time to time in western young adult novels. Namely, light novel illustrations seem focused, by and large, on characters; when backgrounds appear, they’re more or less subsumed by dynamic personages. In western illustrated novels, however, scenery remains a significant concern — see this bit by Scott Westerfeld, for example. Perhaps this has to do with the artistic traditions at work, but I’m certain that there are literary ramifications to drawing attention to particular narrative facets by way of illustration. Light novels, after all, tend to be heavy on dialogue and physical activity, and keep lengthy exposition to a minimum as a result; they probably aren’t relying on their illustrations to get setting across, all things considered, so perhaps they’re the result of the fusion of prose fiction with a particular anime/manga tradition that prioritizes human dynamics over pretty pictures (that being a contrast to another anime/manga tradition, one in which pretty pictures are very important).
• Started reading Tigana, about which I’ve never heard an unkind word. I suppose it’s not bad so far, but I’m disappointed to find that, in some ways, both the writing style and the narrative itself are somehow “loose,” as if the editor half-assed it. And Tigana has reminded me of how bored I am with sex in fiction. I mean, we’re talking about something as fundamental to our being organisms as eating and breathing. In fact, eating, breathing, and sex can all be interesting, but it’s not so easy to render them so in prose. Perhaps this serves as a measure of the depth of my nerddom, but I’m generally much more interested in all the awkward business leading up to sex — that awkward business can make the terminal sex all the more satisfying, when it doesn’t drag on too long.
• On a whim, rewatched the first few episodes of Toradora!, which I suppose became a proper rewatch about two minutes in. My God is this show fantastic. I had forgotten how much I love these characters. But now I’m remembering. Remembering love. Yeah, you know.

Though I’ve not been idle in my absence, I suppose I’d better hurry up and get this internet thing resolved. After all, it’s about time that we dove back into Strike Witches…

I won’t attempt to “account for taste” here, as I doubt there’s much point in doing so. In other words, for the time being, it doesn’t much matter to me why different fans choose their interpretive strategies. I simply wonder whether we can agree, generally speaking, on what some of those interpretive strategies might be.

An “interpretive strategy,” for my purposes here, is the way one chooses to assign meanings to discrete cues, assuming that a discrete cue might be damn near any element of a text, or more than one element in tandem. Thus, I’m not really talking about how we choose what to read/watch/etc., and what among those things to like; I’m talking about how we make sense of particular elements within texts we may like, dislike, or not much care about. In the event that you don’t confuse the two, I’ll admit that I do, somehow, and that this paragraph is more for my own benefit than for yours.

I’m going to outline a few interpretive strategies here, breaking things down into particular “kinds” of fan that really shouldn’t be taken as blanket assumptions. Maybe one of these will apply to you, or maybe not. It’s a start, anyway.

The Focused Fan

I assume most people are the “focused” sort of fan: they make interpretations based on personal relevance, and don’t pay a great deal of attention to other interpretations — indeed, a focused fan may come up with the most personally relevant interpretation possible, and not bother with bringing their interpretive powers to bear upon a particular element any further.

The Christian allows Shinji Ikari kinship with a Biblical personage, the troubled teenager focuses on his crises of self-worth, and so on. The image above illustrates a single interpretation chosen over others which are likely not considered, but the focused fan may well stand by more than one interpretation of a given element. The notion of focus reflects this fan’s tendency to interpret through the lens of the self — which may well streamline the whole process of consumption, and prevent the pursuit of enjoyment from being confounded.

Complaints against focused fans probably amount largely to accusations of “not trying hard enough,” which, I imagine, come mostly from the discerning fan contingent. Omnifans may respect the “purity” of what focused fans do, or they may consider focused fans too narrow-minded — too focused, as it were.

The Discerning Fan

The discerning fan’s strategy is cursorily similar to that of the focused fan, as both result in the selection of a rather limited number of interpretations of one element from the pool of all possible. Where the discerning fan differs is, of course, in “discernment:” this fan considers many interpretations at some length, and rejects most in favor of a few.

These are the fans who stand by particular well-worn means by which to reach conclusions about the texts they consume. Some prefer the Word of God, granting truth to all authorial explanations and biographical circumstances; some cross-reference everything they read with history and artistic tradition; some attempt to reach conclusions based on the internal consistency of the text. Whatever the case may be, one thing is certain (to the discerning fan): the discerning fan’s way of making meaning is The Right Way — and perhaps, depending upon who you ask, The One Way.

Focused fans might accuse discerning fans of taking things far too seriously, and omnifans might call them out on their willingness to judge and their assumption that one interpretation could ever be better than any other, but discerning fans do seem to have one advantage over other sorts of fan: they can often explain precisely why they reach their conclusions, and in great detail. These are the active forum users, the skilled reviewers, and, as often as not, the popular anime bloggers.

The Omnifan

While other varieties of fan may allow a textual element more than one interpretation, omnifans prefer to saturate their elements with every meaning that comes to mind — and, when nothing further comes to mind, the omnifan will seek out other people’s interpretations, and throw those on the pile as well.

Omnifans aren’t especially interested in the “right” way of doing things, perhaps because the very concept of “rightness” doesn’t apply to the pursuit of meaning-making, or because right and wrong are simply irrelevant when it’s all make-believe anyway. The staunchest omnifans might even suggest that, insofar as interpretation is a mechanism not unlike gut reaction, sound logic isn’t a requirement; an interpretation founded upon faulty reasoning or incorrect assumptions is still practically a “valid” interpretation, as interpretations can’t be judged in terms of validity anyway, and all are potentially useful for the insight they may provide into their devisers’ states of mind.

This approach to things causes boundless grief among discerning fans, who accuse omnifans of militant apathy; focused fans may not try hard enough, but omnifans are egregious offenders in that they refuse to try hard enough. Furthermore, the omnifan’s tendency to play with texts excessively may appear to be nothing more than pedantry, particularly to inward-looking focused fans. But if you’re looking for reasoned comparison and reconciliation, you’re best off seeking out an omnifan.

Maybe this goes without saying, given the nature of this post and others, but I am most assuredly an omnifan.

The Triangle

I don’t think these “types” are mutually exclusive; while their most serious practitioners may have grievances with other kinds of fan, I imagine that most people will exhibit traits of two or even three. But, if we like, we can arrange the three types into a kind of — dare I say it — love triangle:

Or maybe a hate triangle. I don’t suppose I’m helping here; it is a little troubling that we feel inclined to fire arrows over our walls at all the other forts, from time to time. But maybe there isn’t any avoiding this, unless we all agree to make meaning the same way, and that seems neither feasible nor desirable.

Brocast 5/30/2010 (19:34, 22.9MB)

Topics and links after the break.

Intro: I don’t have the title, but this clip is from the fight music from Xenogears, by Yasunori Mitsuda(!!!).

(0:01) Xenogears — which, by the way, I’m only 15 hours into, so please hold off on possible spoilers.
(0:55) The tricky RPG boss
(3:39) The RPG boss battle of attrition
(3:51) Xenogears demonstrates mecha love at every turn.
(5:00) I will forever lament the loss of the world map from JRPGs.
(5:38) Garo, the tokusatsu genre, and maturity
(8:36) Good death (something I’ve written about in the contexts of Hoshi no Samidare, Casshern Sins, and Bokurano)
(13:14) Kamen Rider Decade
(15:18) The mysterious phenomenon that is Kujibiki Unbalance

Outro: “~SAVIOR IN THE DARK~” by JAM Project

I’ve been stewing over these questions for some time, but I’ve devoted more time to the second than to the first. And, wouldn’t you know it, once I took a step toward answering the first, the answer to the second seemed rather obvious: Hikaru has feelings for Minmay because she’s hard to get, and he’s into that.

I could be wrong, of course, but this feels like the right answer — for the original Macross TV series, at least. The setup in Do You Remember Love? is rather different, and, lo and behold, I don’t really have any issues with the DYRL? Minmay, so I’ll mostly leave her out of this.

We’ll have to begin with the first realization that led to the second. It occurred to me, all of a sudden, after certain facts conspired to make it more apparent than ever it has been (to me), that I’m not attracted to reasonably obtainable women. I’m only attracted to women who would, for me, prove hard to get.

Yes, I know this sounds juvenile; my only excuse is that Genshiken says it’s okay not to have finished growing up when you’re in your mid-twenties, and so does Solanin, and so I’m not going to worry about it too much because, really, what good would that do? Things happen when they happen, maturation included. In lieu of worry, however, I’m a bit fascinated by this little hangup of mine, as I think it bears upon my fandom.

But before I reveal to you all my dark secrets, let’s consider Hikaru for a moment. (This requires that I abandon any attempt to avoid spoiling Macross, so prepare yourself.)

My point may depend upon whether Minmay is even technically hard to get in the early episodes, but this seems to me to be the case, if only because she’s young and flighty, and thus not so quick to settle on Hikaru. His advances never prove especially effective, and when Kaifun enters the picture, Hikaru is effectively locked out — but this doesn’t stop him.

I’m guessing that Hikaru’s preference for the hard-to-get ladies (or lady, as it were) has something to do with his being the kind of person who likes to challenge himself. Competitive as he is, the cockblock prospects represented by Kaifun may just make him try all the harder; after all, the two years that pass between episodes 27 and 28 don’t do much to diminish his desire. If anything, he’s all the more willing to reject poor Misa Hayase and run off with Minmay post-time skip.

I’m also willing to entertain the idea that Hikaru was into Minmay because she was vivacious and attractive, and his ultimate recognition of Misa’s merits represents growth on his part, but bear with me here. I’m trying to give Minmay the benefit of the doubt for once.

If we grant that Hikaru’s romantic “philosophy” sends him after challenging situations, he comes to occupy a distinct position among the show’s cast of amorous males:

• Hikaru: Challenge/thrill
• Focker: Insecurity/fear of (breaking) commitment
• Max: Respect for talent and beauty
• Kakizaki: Cute girls are cute (everyman angle)
• Kaifun: Control

Otherwise Hikaru might just be a more proactive Kakizaki, and Minmay would effectively have him by the pants. But somehow that seems too easy.

And, anyway, as a fellow man in pursuit of implausible relationships, I feel a kind of camaraderie with Hikaru. I can’t get too frustrated with him for acting like a tool in Minmay’s presence, as that would require that I be frustrated at myself.

For my part, there’s practically a one-to-one correlation between the obtainability of a woman and my attraction to her. And, in a way, it’s as if I’m devoted to the continuation of a vicious cycle. I make myself available to people who aren’t that interested, and I shut out those whose interest is obvious — I play the hard-to-get role, in other words. And so it is with Minmay, Hikaru, and Misa.

How does Hikaru end up choosing Misa in the end? I feel as though I have a personal investment in this question. Is it because he learned enough about people to appreciate what she had to offer? Did he come to appreciate her persistence, a quality he himself displays? Did he simply grow tired of Minmay’s indecision, or did Minmay cease to fascinate him when she became obtainable? Did he, after all, get over an almost compulsive need to challenge himself, even in romantic situations? Does this represent “growth” on his part, or simply change?

Any of these could be true; more than one could be true. And, given that I seem to be afflicted by some of the same idiosyncrasies as the Hikaru who pines pitifully after Minmay, I may not be in a position to suggest an answer. Hikaru seems to have found his own answer, in the end. But, once, I found myself involved in a “love triangle” of roughly the sort diagrammed above, and it didn’t end particularly well for all involved. It may be that the Misa would have been better for me than the Minmay, but such a thing didn’t occur to me at the time.

It may not do me much good to scrutinize a cartoon character as a means of self-improvement — in fact, if I have anything to learn from Hikaru, it’s probably that I’ll have to figure things out on my own. But, as I see it, he has two advantages over me. The first is that Misa hangs on for as long as she does — rather longer than Hikaru warrants, I figure. And the second is that, while Hikaru probably approaches romance as he does partly because of his challenge-seeking nature, I do so because…why?

Maybe I’m just self-destructive. But I don’t know. I’ll get back to you on that.

I’m really trying to get at a broader question here: is it possible that my desire for the unobtainable led me to the 2D world in the first place? I’m not suggesting that my fandom for the latter is wholly dependent upon the former; I simply wonder whether, at some point, one was connected to the other, and I crossed the divide between them via that connection. It may not even be possible to answer such a question, but I do at least feel the need to bear such things in mind as I go about the business of fandom.