Hyouka Episode 16

The Last Target 

Now now now, where to start. The threads laid throughout the previous episodes are finally forming a tangible image, the mystery in it all becoming clearer and clearer with the stars of the Kanya Festa arc, Satoshi and Mayaka, edging towards the critical point, bursting with pent up emotion. Hyouka captures the strange essence of a Slice of Life Mystery, brewing the mystery as the turmoil of the characters grip your focus.

But I digress. Detective wannabes, gather one and all, it’s time for Juumonji to play you all for fools. Deviating from the ABC order established, the thief bypassed Ku entirely for Ke, leaving us with just Ko left. Count one more blow dealt to Satoshi’s being, while another one is being built up back in the Classics club room. Oreki manning his post admirably is pretty much handed the key to the mystery by none other than the elder sibling.

She has pretty much the best fashion sense, I’m SURE we’ll all agree. But with how his trade quest was going, I guess it was inevitable he’d find the ultimate weapon at the end of it all. Trading his mirror, he receives A Corpse By Evening. Pinning down Oreki’s special detective quirk as the ability to solve any case without leaving his chair, Oreki’s sister is certainly helping him out a lot, despite just arriving at the festival. See, as this doujinshi, in it’s after thoughts or whatever you call them, makes mention of another planned work of the doujinshi group at next year’s festival. Something based off one of Agatha Christies famous novels. It also makes mention of a Kudryavka’s order. Gee, it’s almost as if these things might play an important role in this mystery.

Back to Mayaka, disaster strikes. If the regular verbal abuse directed toward the girl isn’t enough, a small attempt to get at her by splashing water goes wrong, if you can even say “goes wrong” at something like that, when her entire outfit is wet and ruined. In restricted silent frustration, Mayaka leaves the club room, excusing herself barely keeping her voice stable. Even the girl with the water pan realized how the situation had gone too far, but the intention to take a stab at her was there, regardless of it’s intensity.

Thank god for people like Chitanda, meeting Mayaka at the very moment she needed it most with the very thing she’s been searching for, the doujinshi Oreki had acquired just moments earlier. If that weren’t enough, Chitanda had borrowed the doujinshi since apparently one of the advertising posters was of the same artstyle. And in a single swoop, Mayaka is out of her slump. Momentarily, at least. She’s a strong girl.

The two manage to track down the artist to none other than the student council president. Now with the artist in the bag, along with the writer Anjou Haruna, we’ve got quite the amount of tools at our hands. Oreki realizes that much, grabbing onto his 50% of the animation budget hair to get into serious mode. And as he’s dragged out of it, Satoshi’s face is freakin’ priceless, the face of someone who knows exactly what’s going on.

Now with so many pieces at his disposal, he manages to drag Satoshi out for a 1-on-1 talk about the mystery. Which, inadvertently, gives way to Satoshi to display some of HIS pent up frustration. For about the next four minutes, Oreki begins to go through many aspects of the case there was no way of Satoshi figuring out, yet here Oreki has seemingly done it with supreme ease. A cold hard case of good hard work producing very little, while all the while the shining star does everything and more, his best friend no less. I could imagine he’d want nothing more than to stand with him doing what he considers incredible. Huh. In the midst of these mystery, we’re dealing with some very real teenager issues.

The explanation is all simple info though, stuff that’s pretty easy to put together from the sidelines. Just an extended connect the dots session, really. Real simple stuff. Simple, like Chitanda. Simple, unlike microphones. Haah, yeah, you go Chitanda, sell those anthologies, use that head of yours.

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