Episode 4 of Mayonaka Punch

I believed I had the number for this show. I reasoned that I had seen everything there was to see in these first three episodes. Even with the occasional tender moments to break the edge, the script was clearly focused on straight-jab shenanigans and right-hook humor. However, as it happens, it was a hoax designed to give us all a false sense of security. All along, Mayonaka Punch has been hiding a southpaw haymaker, and it just about took the edge off of me.

This week’s story from Fu is very straightforward and well-known, both as a vampire story and a tale of destined longing, but that same simplicity is what makes it so effective. A tastier rendition of this event might have attempted to overemphasize the sorrow or counterbalance the melancholy with an abundance of humor. Rather, the direction and tone are kept muted and somber, with a few jokes and humorous moments sprinkled in, to best suit the always anxious Fu as she at last faces a lingering regret from the past. It demonstrates the breadth of this show’s appeal without seeming forced or out of place with previous installments.

I adore how Masaki’s motive shifts as they look for Aya in particular. She first merely wants Fu to sing so they may gain more views, but it soon becomes apparent that she understands Fu’s predicament. She has experienced losing a relationship that meant everything to her, even if it was you who withdrew, so she understands what it’s like to hold yourself back from what you love. The best part is that she conveys all of this through her actions rather than ever needing to say anything out. When she finally connects with Fu, she urges the bashful vampire to find some resolution. This program does a great job of making its characters behave like wild little gremlins, but it also knows when to let them just be human.

Above all, I value the fact that Fu’s story is permitted to be depressing, or at the very least, to have a bittersweet resolution. Given that she’s been carrying her regrets over Aya for so long—I’m assuming they met in the late 1970s based on the songs on Aya’s mixtape that are markedly different from each other—a simple reconciliation would feel a little too tidy. Aya’s death is revealed in such a nonchalant, matter-of-fact way that it nearly feels like a fakeout. In the end, though, it’s the perfect decision since it gives Fu the necessary closure to enjoy singing again while also making her feel responsible for what she fled. Everything about it has a melancholic quality that fits this plot, and Hina Yomiya’s final performance of it is a stunning culmination. This is the first video that MayoPan has created that truly embodies the friendship that contributed to Masaki’s early success on NewTube.

All things considered, it’s an excellent stand-alone episode that demonstrates the breadth of this program. You never know what Maynaka Punch will pull next—if it can transition from heartbreaking drama and hysterical comedy with such ease and effectiveness, then anything is possible.

I must also commend Aya’s taste in music—those are some excellent deep cuts from the 1970s.