#miyuki: was it the flower metaphors

[sawanada]

seido third years gc

[ukaiknowsbest]

Half the reason why Sawamura thinks Miyuki isn’t acknowledging him yet is because Miyuki doesn’t talk to him normally. Miyuki may speak in big words and spout random metaphors about flowers and partnerships in his head but that’s all there is to it, they stay in his head.

He thinks controlling pitchers is his primary job and that no matter what they do, he has the final say. What an idealistic way to view catching tbh. I dont buy into the idea that he has acknowledged sawamura from the start. He didn’t. He just trusted wtv the hell kataoka decided on and ran with it.

[wii-party]

"幸STORY" (1987) by Miyuki Sugiura (杉浦幸) is a compilation album which has 10 great tracks from this artist. This record portraits adolescence and discovering love in Miyuki's own way, leaving innocence behind. Let's review it.

"悲しいな", her first single, is a a sweet track that fits perfectly with Miyuki's essence. It's a song of relief, of despair, filled with adolescent pain. The melody is absolutely remarkable and sure it has accompanied her on many sad nights. Next track is "2年目のジンクス". It has a good melody and Miyuki's voice is on point. The instrumentation (with the charming saxophone) is also immaculate, becoming a nice track that I wouldn't skip. "六本木十時軍" is a song with a tune that predicted the sounds of the earlies 90's in Japan. Miyuki sings anxiously and the song follows the trail of the previous song. "18のSecret" is an innocent piece where Miyuki sings about the teenage passion and yearning for the beloved. It's beauteous and one of the most beautiful songs about innocence ever written, Miyuki is full of talent. Next track "Naive" is fun and catchy, well placed in the album. It makes me feel like jumping. "花のように" is one of my favourite tracks; the flower and love metaphor is very sweet and her voice is delicate as petals. It has a straighforward melody, but describes perfectly the love overflow: a gem. "午前0時のI NEED YOU" is also incredible. Falling in love at midnight, longing for the beloved's cuddle, that's this song. The hook is one of the best on this record and, I have to say, I get excited whenever I hear it again. "ー45ー" is a gentle ballad, like a cloud, like a dream, like a wave. In this track Miyuki's voice is tender to the core and it's impossible to not love it. "4月列車" has become swiftly one of my favourite city pop tracks. It's intro is heartrending and overall is emotional, nostalgic. Listening to it live must make goose bumps. Last track of this album is "せつなさのPosion", that finishes the compilation in a merry and enjoyable way. Not her best song but is enjoyable and cohesive with the rest of the tracks.

From "悲しいな" to "せつなさのPosion", we've toured some of Miyuki Sugiura's greatest songs. After this compilation he would dedicate herself to recording porn films and she would leave the world of music, publishing other compilations in the late 90's. However, she left an astonishing pop-perfection album.

[annerly-san]

The Night’s Reminiscence | Chapter 1 | Takasugi Shinsuke (Gintama)

Alternate A03 Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601344/chapters/62137555

Verdant grass blades swayed in the wind as the scent of bloomed cherry blossom flowers wafted about her.  The lull of cicada thrills filled the air and beckoned the imminent arrival of summer.

It was warm.

She remembered the scratching and chaffing of the geta against her toes as she chased him.  Her lungs would ache with each stretch of breath she took and her heart pounded in her chest so loudly that she could barely hear anything else.  Out of breath, and out of reach, he always managed to evade her.

No matter how hard she ran to chase after him-- desperately seeking his attention and affection-- he would brush by the tips of her fingers and disappear from her sight.

Those piercing eyes of deep green were constantly fixated on something further ahead.  They looked at something that was beyond her.  Her naivety of childhood affections and innocent yearnings of the heart had once hopelessly wished to capture his gaze.

It was from a time that was much more peaceful and innocent.  A time where she was of more pure heart.  It was but a memory -- a recollection-- of the time she had her heart still intact.

Miyuki looked out from her window.

The lush countryside of her hometown was but a fleeting moment in the increasing industrialization that she saw beyond her window.

The gentle hills of the country were paved down and replaced with buildings of iron, steel and glass.  The greenery of nature had long since been uprooted and covered with endless trails black asphalt and gray concrete.  The wind, which had once carried the sweet scent of flowers and fruits in bloom, now gusted about with a nasty mixture of smoke, chemicals and toxins which devastated the lungs with an unfortunate breath.

The dull ache of her heart was not of forlorn yearning.  Nor was it of sorrowful pain from a past long gone.  No.  She surmised that it was but the aftermath of a despairing resignation-- a loss of all hope and prospect for a future that she could call hers.

Her attention was not divided for long.

The sharp tapping of the door alerted her to the maid that was now entering her quarters, relaying her surprise at her mistress’s early rise.

The commentary on how excited she must be for her big day went in one ear and out of the other as Miyuki slipped her arms through the kimono that the maid held out for her.

On a usual day, Miyuki would have glared at anyone who held the tenacity to speak of the insufferable marriage arrangement between her and her fiance.  A sharp tongue would have flicked out between her clenched teeth to chastise the imbecile who thought that a political marriage to the single most egoistical, spoilt and repugnant man to walk the streets of Edo.

The skin of her cheeks have grown thick-- accustomed to the slaps she received from her parents as reprimand for speaking ill of her soon-to-be husband.  It was most unfortunate that the skin on the rest of her face had not developed the same density in a metaphorical sense.  As much as she would much rather slit open her stomach and bleed to death rather than marry that abomination of a man, her wrists were tied and her mouth was gagged as she was practically sold off from her family as a political asset in order to gain some semblance of material wealth and power.

And now she stood in front of a mirror, watching as a veil of delicate blush was applied to her cheeks.  She almost wished that the maid would apply at least five times the amount of makeup to cover her face as to mask the inevitable shame and to shield the remnants of her pride.

“Oh, my lady, you simply look wonderful!”  The maid gushed as the last stroke of the makeup brush left Miyuki’s lips.  “You’re the most beautiful woman in Edo!”

The mirror reflected a picturistic bride.  Adorned in an elegant wedding kimono with her hair held back by clips made from gold and precious jewels, a woman that Miyuki refused to acknowledge stared at her with blank eyes.

“You’re soon to be married to a high government official!  How wonderful!”  The maid continued to gush incessantly as she escorted Miyuki to the palanquin that awaited her in the front of the manor.  “To live a life of care-free and luxury-!”

The words, spoken by one who knew nothing of the torment and suffering that came adjunct to this union, scrapped at the pits of Miyuki’s stomach irritably as small ruptures of growing anger bubbled up within her.

Miyuki stepped into the palanquin and took her seat.

The interior-- ornamented with the highest quality wood, finest silks, metals and jewels-- enclosed about her like a prison.  She felt herself being hoisted up into the air as the palanquin shook about with each step that the carriers took.

Out of the wooden bars of her transport, she stared past the bustling crowd of Edo’s common folk and back to the humble countryside of her past.

“Did you get hurt again?”  She gingerly reached out towards him in comfort only to be slapped away.

The boy turned cheek and replied coyly.  “Does it look like I’m hurt?”

His pride was clearly injured above all else.

His purple hair was disheveled and there was a swelling around one of his vibrant green eyes.

“No, but let me-”

“You’re annoying!  Can’t you leave me alone, damn it!?” Despite the calming sting in her hands, she tenderly took her handkerchief -- soaked with clean spring water-- and blotted at the small scraps and scratches on the boy’s face.

He winced, but allowed for her to tend him.  The unspoken permission blossomed into warmth in her heart.

“You’re really strong, Takasugi-kun.”  She sang her praise for him as she carefully cleaned him of the blood and sweat he accumulated in a fight that he had gotten into.

Her parents would have been mortified to see how close she had gotten to the son of a lower class samurai family, but she didn’t care.  The chastising, the meals forgone, the whips of bamboo sticks on her wrists-- she could tolerate them all.

Her family ran the prodigious military academy that Takasugi’s parents had sent him to.  A single instance of him defeating a group of students which were making less than civil advances towards her made her heart tremor in her chest.

Her interest and affection for him sprouted then.

Miyuki would always follow him around and watch him.  The way that he swung his sword around was mesmerizing for her to watch.

She would often sneak and watch him behind a tree or bush or gaze out the window of her room to hopefully spot him around and about in the academy.

When she finished her calligraphy lessons, she would find him to ask for him to show her the new sword techniques that he learned that day.

He called her annoying often and chastised her a great deal for bothering him even more so.

And even as he often yelled at her, called her annoying, and chastised her for running about and not being a proper lady as she should be, she never once felt upset or offended.

She was simply content with the fact that she managed to get him -- the object of her love and admiration-- to look her way even for just the briefest of moments.

The palanquin came to a halt and the heavy silk screen was lifted up to reveal a reel of carpet rolled out on the floor for her to step upon.

She could already hear the bustle of the crowd that her fiance had gathered as a means to shamelessly show off to uncaring spectators.

A familiar hand held itself out as a means to prompt her to take it.

She dejectedly placed her hand in the hand of her father’s as she stepped outside.

The cheers enveloped her senses as she was escorted towards the shrine where her soon-to-be husband stood.

Her father leaned in as to whisper in her ear.  “This is your contribution to the family.  Stand straight.  Stand proud.”  Those words were not meant as praise.  The underlying threat in her father’s tone was clear.  Perhaps he was being civil today for once as he didn’t bring mention of “being a disgrace” or “being a worthless woman” up as a means to stab at her esteem.  She wanted to slouch further but decided to not press her luck when the grip on her hand tightened to the point of near bruising.

Her father was a ruthless man.

It was to be expected from the head of a military academy.  But only she bore the callous treatment that her father gave.  She spotted her mother and younger brother standing near the front; her mother’s head held high and tilted up in a snobbish manner, and her brother had the most bored look on his face not bothering to hide the fact that he could not care to be present.

To think that the sole reason that their family was able to remain intact was solely due to the fact of her marriage.

The sudden change and worth that she held as well as the lack of choice and will in this matter made her hands ball up in a seething frustration.

Despite being the eldest, she was often discredited for the sole fact of being a woman.

At her birth, the instant that her father discovered her gender, he immediately sought out to produce another heir in hopes of raising a son.

And so, soon after her, a son was borne to the household.

While he was showered with undeserving praise for the slightest of things and held the affections of both parents in the palm of his hands, she suffered neglect and abuse.

It was not uncommon for her to hear from both parents on how worthless she was and how lucky she would be if she was able to be married off to an affluent family.

Both parents told her frequently that if she was to get on her brother’s good graces, perhaps he would be willing to provide a free spot in the inherited manor for her to housekeep and watch over his offspring.

Her brother knew that she was told of such things.  And he took advantage of it.

Often berating her or even physically bullying her-- pulled out hair and bruised cheeks-- no one in the house showed her any semblance of kindness nor respect of a human being.

How funny it was that it was her to get them out of the troubles that plagued them upon the Amanto’s invasion.

With the military academy being effectively shut down as a result of the sword ban, the esteem that the house had once held was shattered into dust.

It was a fitting justice for those who despicably held onto that power and used it to prey upon the weak.

But as the house fell into ruin, a high ranking Bafuku official had taken interest in Miyuki and wished to court her.  In return, the household would be brought out from ruin and financial woes.

Despite having the power to change the tides for her family, they treated her no better.

Her adamant refusals to go humor the official with dates resulted in beatings that included kimono sleeves and layers of makeup that would just barely conceal evidence of abuse.

Her attempts of escape led to recapture with padlocked doors and chains on her legs.

Her attempts to simply leave the world led to an uncomfortably intolerable surveillance of her actions for every second of each day she spent in captivity.

And now, powerless, she stood before the man whom she held no affections nor care towards as she nodded and agreed to his vows to become his until death do they part.

And as she felt the press of his lips against hers, she felt the last bit of hope and defiance in her disintegrate into oblivion as the vows between the two of them were sealed.

Miyuki stared blankly ahead as the food and festivities of the wedding began.  Her now husband placed a kiss on her cheek for which she could not muster even a look of disgust for.

The music and noise of the party were lost to her as she herself grew lost in her reminiscence of what once was, not caring for the unwelcomed hand of her husband that was now intertwined with hers.

As a young girl, she could never hold, much less practice, with the sword.  It was ironic despite her family hailing from a military background and running an academy to train the new generation.

Her fascination with the sword and learning from it manifested through her admiration of Takasugi.

Her eyes would observe his stance and swing with an intense curiosity, her own hands gripping a calligraphy brush or a flower stem and replicating his moves to its exact arc and velocity.

She was stricken with sorrow when she came across news that Takasugi left the dojo to study under the tutelage of someone else.

She did not grieve for long.

When she had snuck out to trail him after he had left his house one day, she stumbled across the school of Shouka Sonjuku.

Her eyes followed Takasugi in amazement as she watched him spar with another silver haired kid -- wide smile on his face.

Even as he was struck down and lost the round, he looked the happiest she had ever seen him look before.  She secretly watched him bicker with the student and teacher before finally leaving.

Trailing him quietly as he walked on the road back toward home, she noticed the cut on his hand and without a second thought rushed over to him in a state of concern.

“Y-you!”  She had startled him.

“Are you ok?  You’re hurt!”  She immediately took out her handkerchief to wrap around his hand only to be slapped away-- the fabric falling to the ground.

He immediately began to storm off.  “Don’t follow me!”

“A-ah, wait!”  She reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his arm.

He spun around in annoyance-- eyes glistening with distrust and hostility.

“You’re going to tell my parents aren’t you?  Like the goody two-shoes that you are!”  The words he spoke had barbs that stung the flesh.  But Miyuki paid the pain no mind.

“N-no!”  Miyuki exclaimed in protest.  “I-I got worried about you since you weren’t coming to the academy…”  She picked up the spoiled handkerchief from the ground and looked back up at him.  “I-I won’t tell anyone!  I promise!”

His eyes scrutinized her as her heart fluttered from him looking at her directly like this for the first time.

“...tsk…”  He grabbed her hand and spun around to walk back home-- pulling at her arm and walking at a pace with no regards to her.

As she stumbled in a breathy run to match his pace, she was unbelievably over the moon that her hand was intertwined in his.

The virtues of two people holding hands as viewed by a child are often perceived as pure and untainted.  The memory faded out of mind as she was brought back to the reality that was the honeymoon suite that her husband had rented out for the both of them to consummate their first night together.

Her husband’s hands slipped around her, tugging at the kimono caring not about the integrity of the expensive cloth that covered her.  

“My wife…” her husband’s whispers were low as he uttered that hateful title she now bore into the crevice of her neck.  She felt warm and wet traces trail across her neck and back knowing full well that there would be unsightly marks in the places where it lingered.

She passively stood there, her own hands placed atop his roaming ones as they traced paths up and down her body-- lingering in places of particular interest.

The mannerisms of her treatment made her realize the extent of which she was considered and treated as a tool.

Her past self would have toyed with the notion of love in marriage and the yielding of oneself as an act of declaring eternal love for one another.

But as she faced the reality she was in, there was no such thing as love.

She knew that now as the grip on her arms and legs were tight enough to hurt her and the blatant disregard for her comfort was evident in the drawing of blood as a result of viciously left bite marks and scratches.

She was foolish to once think that she could ever receive love.

Takasugi was never a man that she could even hope to love.

But her heart back then refused to accept that reality and only ever pour its love out endlessly for him.

Reality was cruel.

If her heart dreamed and beat to the rhythm of a fairytale, her eyes would at the very least open one day to see the truth.

That night was clear.

She could see the stars -- infinitesimal in the sky.  She wondered if she would be able to see them reflect in his eyes when he came to see her.  She wondered how many strands of his purple hair she could count as they tosseled in the warm and gentle breeze of a midsummer’s night.

Miyuki stood underneath the cedar tree overlooking the river’s bed.  The ambient sounds of nature lulled her into a peace of mind as she listened for the sound of footsteps amongst the buzzing of cicadas, the rushing of water against rocks and the chirping of crickets.

She had left home to find him.  For once, she could seek freedom and happiness on her own terms.  And she wanted to find it with him.

He had gone off to fight in the Joui war.  It was perhaps the kindness -- or cruelness-- of fate that allowed them to meet once more.

“Would you give me an answer?”  Her voice was shaking as she poured out her confession of love for him.  “I-I’ll wait for you at the top of the hill overlooking the river.”  She pointed at the lone cedar tree on the hill nearby before anxiously looking up to meet his eyes.

The unit that he led graciously let her through to speak with him in addition to having enough tact to leave personal space for the two of them to speak.

She would be content with anything.  She’d follow him into the army to help as a nurse or helping hand if he wished.  She would wait somewhere in the promise of his return from the war -- praying for his victory and luck.  Anything.  She would do anything for him.

But affections needed to be mutual.

Miyuki knew this.

The smallest corner of her rational mind compelled her to ask him.  Ask if he returned her love.

Whether he did or didn’t, her love for him must accept that.  She loved him enough to love him from afar.  She loved him enough to ask for nothing in return.

Her heart trembled in fear and excitement as she stared up into the sky waiting for him to arrive.

She wondered if she should have specified a time.

Her legs eventually grew tired from standing on the incline of a hill and she resigned to sitting down-- leaning against the tree trunk for support.

As the moon traversed overhead and the stars spun around and about the sky, she waited.

Until the dawn broke and the sun rose high into the sky, she continued to sit there.

Day waned into night again, and she silently thanked her family for not feeding her at times-- otherwise she would have to sit up and potentially miss him if he came by.

The pure, innocent hope of her love overrode the disparaging crackles of her heart as her eyelids grew heavy.  Miyuki thought that hopefully she could wake up just before Takasugi arrived so that she wouldn’t embarrass herself by sleeping so awkwardly.

But when she awoke, she found herself back in the manor of her home.  Confined to her room as punishment for running away, she despaired over how he might have been looking for her on that hilltop.

And on the tenth day of confinement in her room as she was remembering all the things she loved about him, did she have to force herself to realize that never once did he look at her with the same adoration as she did with him.  Only then did she finally open her eyes to realize that he would have never come to find her on that hilltop in the first place.  That he would never love her.

As she gripped the sheets of her bed, body driven into the bed with each careless and sloppy thrust of her husband’s hips -- pain and aches resonating throughout her body as sweat beaded on her forehead-- she knew that she would never be loved.

Her dreams of freedom, her hopes of love and her wishes of respect are all but an illusion that she had so carefully wrapped herself in to distract her from the painful truth that those were things unattainable for her.

Miyuki stared out at the foggy night sky-- barely making out the dull shine of the moon beneath the clouds.

This would be the last night in a long time that she would ever reminiscence on a more innocent time of her life.

[yojimbroo]

Hana - Bi   -   Kitano Takeshi

Hana-Bi by Kitano Takeshi was an interesting experience; not so much in the plot but in the literal watching of the movie. I felt a sense of nostalgia while watching the movie even though I know I have never seen it before. It somewhat reminded me of the movies that would play on the Lifetime network back in the 90s which was an interesting thing to be reminded of. That was just a fun personal fact that I wanted to start this blog post off with. Hana-Bi is a movie which seems to revolve around 3 main characters, that being Nishi, Horibe, and Miyuki. Nishi is a retired cop who for most of the film wants to spend the rest of his time with Miyuki who is his wife. Miyuki is diagnosed with leukemia so she does not have much time to live. She is a very silent character (literally does not say a word until the very end of the film) and is a character who speaks mostly through body language. Finally, there is Horibe who was Nishi’s partner as a detective and is eventually injured and left paralyzed from the waist down.

Most of the plot consists of Nishi having a hard time getting over his past while being pestered by Yakuza members who he had worked with in order to help pay for Miyuki's treatment. It is easy to see how depressed and stressed the character of Nishi is, even going as far as robbing a bank to be able to pay back the Yakuza and sever ties with them and the police force for good. Unfortunately, the Yakuza were not satisfied with the payment and had expected more from Nishi in the form of “interest” which does not sit well with Nishi who eventually kills them and is then put in even more trouble. The movie ends in a sorrowful fashion with both Miyuki and Nishi committing suicide together. The final words of the film are from Miyuki who says “Arigato. Gomen” both saying thank you and apologizing.

As for the imagery of the film, I have to say it was interesting and sometimes hard to put my finger on. Multiple times throughout the film you can see cartoonish portraits of flowers and other various objects. The only connection I can make with this is the hobby that Horibe picked up after his accident which was to paint. He paints portraits similar to the paintings that have been scattered throughout the film, making me wonder if they could have been his. I also think it is interesting to mention that the style of painting Horibe had picked up was pointillism, so I wonder if there was any meaning behind that as well. I also think the idea of flowers played a major role in the movie. A scene I had really liked was when Miyuki was watering the dead flowers and some guy began to berate her saying “No use watering dead flowers”. This angers Nishi and so he beats him up, granted I think it was a bit uncalled for but I think he reacted so intensely because he saw it as a metaphor for how he has been treating Miyuki. He was essentially trying to take care of someone who unfortunately was bound to die in the end.

Overall I really enjoyed this movie, I also want to mention how much I enjoyed the 1990s soundtrack and the very interesting characters. It was an interesting look at what can happen when we lose touch with some of our not so pleasant emotions such as anger and guilt,     

[latenightcinephile]

#762: ‘HANA-BI’, dir. Takeshi Kitano, 1997.

Content warning: mentions of suicide.

Hoo boy, this is a... strange one. Part police thriller, part melancholy romance, with a lot of weird stuff thrown into the mix. The plot is relatively quickly summarised: Nishi (Beat Takeshi - a nom de guerre for Kitano), a police officer, semi-retires from the police force following a failed stake-out that kills one and injures two. He robs a bank to take his terminally-ill wife on an extended holiday, but is pursued by the yakuza, who want repayment of costs associated with a loan. And yet... the most interesting parts of this film, at least from a narrative structure point of view, are following Horibe (Ren Osugi), a detective paralysed in the stake-out. Horibe is confined to a wheelchair, and embarks on a painting career that is rather surreal. Many of his paintings are of animals with the heads of flowers, but he also moves into pointillism (these paintings are done by Kitano himself) and, finally, images where snow and light are represented by dozens of iterations of the Japanese characters for those words. What’s strange about this plotline is that it runs parallel to the main story of the film, and doesn’t really link back in. These two lines diverge early on, and don’t seem to connect to each other, even thematically.

At Senses of Cinema, Dan Edwards suggests that, as every character that Kitano plays in his films either commits or at least considers suicide, his entire oeuvre is at least partly autobiographical. The pointillist works that Kitano painted were done in the aftermath of a motorcycle accident that Kitano has described as “an unconscious suicide attempt.” Edwards here seems to be conflating the character of Horibe with Kitano’s performance as Nishi to some degree, but the point stands.

Here we enter spoiler territory, which I only mind here because the film is pretty compelling and I recommend it.

There’s a further question in why Horibe’s paralysis plot is included in a film about a police officer that kills his wife and himself at the conclusion. Is Kitano trying to comment on this issue - a police officer with reason to commit suicide that brings himself to live, as opposed to a police officer with reason to live that brings himself to die? I don’t know, precisely, but it’s the closest I’ve come to reconciling these two plotlines.

What makes HANA-BI more complicated is that Kitano makes stylistic choices that feel like they break the boundaries of reality. In the final scene, Nishi and his wife watch a young girl playing with a kite on the shore. At one point, we see Nishi holding the kite for the girl, and then holding onto it a little too long, the kite tearing. Given Nishi and his wife are suffering the grief of losing their young daughter, the scene feels like it might be a manifestation of Nishi’s inner thoughts. This is enhanced by the fact that there is nobody else on the beach - nobody to have brought the girl here, and no other vehicles in the parking lot. The composition of the scene seems designed to imply that this girl doesn’t exist. Despite this, she remains on the beach after the concluding gunshots of the film.

This is the real difficulty: a constant procession of abstract moments that feel like they are metaphor more than reality, non-linear scene ordering that makes this feeling more profound - we don’t actually see the conclusion of the stake-out until the midpoint of the film, long after the survivors have been introduced - all of this makes it unclear exactly what Kitano is trying to get across. The relationship between Nishi and his wife isn’t developed in enough detail to make it feel like the central point of the film either. In fact, Kayoko Kishimoto only gets a dozen words of dialogue or so as the wife, Miyuki. She develops the character’s emotions effectively through performance, but her connection to Nishi feels formulaic at times.

So, what’s the point of this film? Why do I like it? The short answer is ‘Come for the gunfights, stay for the encroaching filmic unease in the aftermath’. What puzzles me, even a week later, is why Horibe’s plot is so central. Is it meant to be the main plot, or even to be conclusive? The two halves of the film reflect each other, but in that shimmering way that things are reflected in disturbed water. It’s a compelling police thriller, but buried beneath that is the shape of something bigger and darker.