Takarada fires Minare right after the festival, and no amount of ranting or begging can change his mind. After going out for commiseratory drinks with Takarada, he casually suggests she move in with him. After a quick simulation of their time together, she concludes he’d end up stabbed to death (though not by her!).
After tricking him into saying he loves sleeping naked (she doesn’t), she decilnes, assinging him the nickname Zenra (the fancy way to write “naked”). That said, she’ll him in mind should she fall into truly dire straits. Takarada feels used…but he wants to be used if it’s by someone like her.
Minare returns home…or at least she thinks it’s home, but there are immediately two troubling signs: her shoes aren’t lined up neatly in the genkan, and there are other pairs of shoes. The creepy man who ended last week’s episode and cold opened this one lifts her off the ground, and she goes into Self-Defense Mode and calls the cops.
Turns out she’s the one committing a crime, as she’s not in her apartment, but her neighbor Mr. Oki’s. He’s been the one returning her blackout drunk self to her own bed and lining up her shoes. If he simply kicks her out of his place, she shows back up, or otherwise bangs on his door and sobs.
The revelation of not being an end-of-the-night neat and organized drunk hits Minare like a ton of bricks; indeed Oki likens her dramatic epiphany to that of Neo when he’s unplugged from the Matrix.
The sheer difference in scale between Minare’s plight and Neo’s, as well as the care with which the reference is visually presented, makes for a ludicrous moment that had be howling with laughter. There are other overt pop culture references, but this was one I got without the need for research.
With only about $2500 in savings and $2600 in incoming expenses, Minare finds herself at a crossroads. She can either go back to school, or see where this radio host thing takes her. It’s not a tough choice…especially when Matou agrees to let her crash at the radio station’s storage facility. She arrives with a full rucksack strapped to her back, as if she’s about to climb a mountain…and in a way, she is!
As one would expect of a more mature form of media, the path to success is a slow and gradual climb, if the climb happens at all. Katou doesn’t want Minare to be under any illusions of instant celebrity, but maintains that she Has What It Takes, just like his idol Sissel Komei, who be believes Minare resembles in both appearance and style.
As it turns out, Minare isn’t allowed to crash in storage; for one thing, there’s no heat there. For another, assistant director Nanba Mizuho is happy to let Minare crash on her floor for a while, and is actually excited to drink cheap Chablis hang out with her one-on-one.
At first Minare pretends to be drunk as a kind of social defense mechanism, but Mizuho sees through the ploy, and admits she was never much of a social butterfly. That said, even though she’s never even had a boyfriend, she felt deeply connected to Minare’s fiery words when she came in for her first live session.
Sometimes before I go to sleep I listen to the Shipping Forecast on BBC Radio 4. Especially on a cold or stormy night, there’s something comforting and relaxing about hearing a prim and proper voice flawlessly deliver the conditions around the British Isles, as well as thinking about all those ships at sea, out there, somewhere, in the middle of the night.
I’m far from the only person who thinks this way about it. The BBC once tried to get rid of the Shipping Forecast, and its loyal (and predominantly land-based) audience practically rioted until the Beeb caved and brought it back. Like the big fax machines at the station, it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.
As Mizuho switches on the radio at 3:30 to hear the beginning of Sound High Tide before nodding off, Minare stays awake, and starts to speak as if she were on the air, with the sounds merely a backdrop. If all goes well, her yet-to-be-produced new show will replace Sound High Tide in that 3:30 slot.
Will her very different, non-ambient, provocative style catch fire in that dark depths of the early morn, and sway the small but likely passionate legion of High Tide listeners? Only time will tell…