Both White Reminiscences and the TV series make it abundantly clear that Riber’s death was absolutely devastating for Misa and that she carried her grief over his death well into the series. In the previous part of this series, I mentioned that she couldn’t help noticing her father’s emotional absence during Riber’s loss. This, I think, contributes to the formation of a first “crack” in her perception of him and even her relationship with him. Takashi’s behavior during Sakiko’s last days and the period after her death does nothing to repair this harm. What makes the reader question the salvageability of his relationship with Misa, however, is what these events trigger in the academy.

Sakiko’s Death

Takashi’s absence during Sakiko’s hospitalization, death, and funeral is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Misa, who, upon her return to the academy, is a complete wreck. This sets her up for one of the most troubling scenes of the entire novel, but also perhaps the most pivotal.

In another prime example of his coercive writing, Ōnogi tells us that Melissa, a senior classmate and bunkmate, seems “worried”. Her words, which I’ll quote verbatim from the translation, contradict his instructions to the reader: “I admit, I don’t really understand what it’s like to lose two people close to you, but please cheer up. You’re bringing everybody down.” A person who’s genuinely worried would never order a double-bereaved teenager to “cheer up” because they’re “bringing everybody down.” Instead, they’d say something like “are you OK? Can I do something for you? If you need to talk, you can talk to me.” Then, after Misa apologizes for being miserable after losing her sole emotional anchors, Ōnogi offers a dialogue that makes no kind of sense:

“Anyway, if there’s some kind of problem or something, we can discuss it, right?”
Yes, there was a problem… but what could Misa do?
“Honestly…” she ventured.
“What is it, a guy?” Melissa asked.

Hearing Melissa say that, Misa’s feelings became dammed up.

I don’t understand what exactly Ōnogi wants the reader to assume Melissa could be thinking here by having her ask if Misa has a guy problem. Misa’s just lost her first crush and her mother in close succession, and with almost zero emotional support. It’s utterly implausible for any rational character who’s already known Misa for a while to think she could get over Riber so soon, get involved with another guy, and at the same time be depressed over the two losses she suffered. Either Ōnogi deliberately wrote Melissa as completely delusional and blind to Misa’s personality and circumstances, or he wrote an entirely unrealistic dialogue. Melissa then says “[s]orry, sorry. C’mon, just tell me. I promise to listen.”

Then Misa walks right into a trap by pouring her heart out to Melissa. She tells her about Riber’s death, her mother’s death, “and the coldness of her father.” Then, she relates her doubts about whether she should stay in the military at all. Her reasoning is that, if Riber and her father weren’t soldiers, “none of these tragedies would’ve happened” and that, if she quits, she “won’t have to go through these kinds of things.”

Misa’s logic here is flawed, and I must say Ōnogi made a narratively sound decision in portraying her as thinking in this manner under these circumstances. Misa is almost sixteen years old, struck by the tragic loss of her only emotional anchors within less than four months, and found out the hard way that she’s also alone and unsupported – she’s lost the ground beneath her feet and is at her wits’ end. So, she’s grasping for a causal narrative that’ll give her some sort of control over an uncontrollable situation.

In her desperate attempt to process what she’s going through, she ends up adopting a reasoning that looks a lot like magical thinking: “if I quit the military, I won’t go through this again.” The mechanism through which she comes to this conclusion is a logical fallacy built on a mixture of facts, coincidences, and the common thread that is Takashi’s and Riber’s military role: Riber was a soldier and was killed. Father is a soldier and he’s unavailable and cold. Not only did mother get worse when he left again to go to war, but she died alone, and I had no one by my side. So, if I quit, I won’t go through this again.

Although she doesn’t get the mechanism entirely right, because she conflates correlation with causation, her intuition is actually defensible: her father, Riber’s father, and the military all made choices that created the framework in which her losses occurred – Riber’s “bluff and hearty” father enrolled him into the military against his will and left him no choice. Ōnogi tells us that the military made the utterly daft and ridiculous decision to recall the research personnel of the Mars Base to deploy them in combat. Misa’s own father was incommunicado when Riber died, while Sakiko wasted away at the hospital, when she died, and when Misa needed emotional support. Would a reasonably sensible and compassionate person blame her for reading his choices as contributing to the exacerbation of the consequences of her losses?

Melissa

As I mentioned in the previous segment, Sakiko’s death had a sort of “butterfly effect”, triggering events that ultimately drive Misa to steer well clear of any “help” her father would offer her in her career. Misa’s outpour of frustration, pain, and sorrow to Melissa was met with the incredulity a careful reader would expect from someone who, mere seconds ago, said she doesn’t “really understand what it’s like to lose two people close to you” and whose main concern is that the suffering person cheers up so that they don’t bring “everybody down”: a facepalm, followed by the question “[a]re you serious?”.

It’s not hard to guess where this is going. Misa confirms she’s talking seriously, and Melissa asks her if she blames her father so strongly. Misa nods affirmatively; after all, this is an entirely understandable reaction for a teenage girl who’s just narrated a consistent pattern of paternal absence and uselessness during family crises. We shouldn’t forget that, for all his attempts to launder Takashi’s actions and omissions, Ōnogi portrays him as someone whose absence isn’t merely physical but extends to much easier things like letters and phone calls. If anything, she names the right culprit – her father. After all, her suffering was exacerbated by his choices.

Melissa lashes out at Misa: “Wow… you’re a terrible person,” she says and shakes her head “furiously”. But why is Misa a “terrible person”? It was Takashi who, according to the novel’s sequence of events – part of which is mirrored in the Macross Compendium (also archived here) – remained absent and incommunicado for about seven months: late June or early July 2005 to late January 2006. I don’t know if Ōnogi expects his readers to believe a flag officer at war couldn’t find a few hours in such a long time to write a letter or two, to make a phone call or two, but, as I’ve already explained in this series, if that’s his narrative, it’s risible: a flag officer can delegate duties, can take compassionate leave far more easily than a foot soldier, and is a highly-protected strategic asset, not cannon fodder.

This brings me to what comes after the “terrible person” accusation. Melissa takes this opportunity to indulge in a rant that makes one wonder if she’s been wanting to get back at Misa for whatever reason. She calls Misa “weak” and then scolds her, using a strawman argument, for asking for something unreasonable and even harmful for the military’s morale. First, let’s see what Misa asked for. She practically begged even for a single letter from her father so she could hold on to something that’d help her believe he cared even a bit for her and her mother: “[o]ne day – no, even one hour – would be enough. I just want to see his face again! … Even a letter would be enough. Is just a letter too much to ask?”

The novel implies that Misa mentioned these things to Melissa, which makes it safe for me to assume that what Melissa does is twist her words into the strawman argument I spoke of: “[w]hat do you think would happen if High Command got half a day off every time someone got killed? Any faith in them would be lost in an instant.” And she follows with “And furthermore, your father is Vice Admiral Hayase, the commander on the front line. He’s famous. How could he encourage the men and women under him if he goes running off?” But Misa didn’t ask for him to “run off” at all. It’s plain to see that Melissa’s being malicious here, to the point where I can even suspect vindictiveness.

She’s not done, though. She detonates in Misa’s face the nepotism her father had committed two years ago to put her in the academy at the illegal age of fourteen: “Do you even realize how much your father has done for you? Probably, the only reason you’re here in this training center is because of him.” With Misa still in shock, she continues by saying “[w]ithout him pulling the strings, do you really think some silly kid like you could’ve really gotten in here?”

This allegation, sadly, is true: Takashi himself had admitted to Riber that he had used his clout to put Misa in the academy, because it pleased him “enormously to think that [his] only child’s desire [was] to carry on the family legacy.” Misa was kept in the dark – all she knew is that her father had started her enrollment process, which was framed as a “gift” to her. Misa suddenly realizes that she can’t be sure if anything she’d done there was her own achievement or mediated by her father. She got in easily and was made to think this was because of her own abilities. Given her competitive personality, it makes a lot of sense to expect that she would agonize about whether her grades were tampered with as well – how much of them was hers, and how much was “boosted” at her father’s behest? And why?

This bullying scene ends with Misa being driven to run out of the room and hide in the toilets. Another bunkmate tries to run after her, but Melissa – who now emerges as the “boss” in that bunk – stops her, claiming that Misa needs to learn “to take what’s coming to her,” because otherwise she won’t be able to “understand the bitter and the sweet of the world,” positioning herself as a self-appointed teacher of morals. Amusingly enough, after having her deliver all this venom into Misa, Ōnogi tells us that, even at the height of her arrogant moralizing, Melissa’s conscience nagged at her. Personally, I assess this insertion of Melissa’s conscience “nagging” at her as a lame authorial attempt to launder her abuse and reframe it as some sort of “tough love”.

In the next part of this series, I’ll examine the impact of Melissa’s bullying on Misa’s emotional state and self-image. Misa’s subsequent decisions w.r.t. her military training and the beginning of her career as an officer are directly influenced by this event, and her decisions collide with Takashi’s intentions for her future in the UN Forces.

Bibliography

1. Ōnogi, H. (1984). Hayase Misa: Shiroi Tsuioku [早瀬未沙 白い追憶; Misa Hayase: White Reminiscences]. Animage Bunko. Tokyo: Tokuma Shoten. (In Japanese.)