And lo an episode ended, and those words came up, ‘a continuar…’

Last week was a primarily Hatchin-centric episode. This one was Michiko-centric. But it was also a sad little story in its own right. One that dragged us down to street level, where stuff is bloody horrible. A real return to the misery diary style of episode 1, only without the rescue scene. In the midst of the action Michiko, seated on her motorbike, just passed the crisis by. The alternative-Michiko, the glamour girl of the week, got shot by some children.

Things went wrong. And you know what, that’s wasn’t the end. It wasn’t the end of the story when Michiko trod on a kid’s hand – the gangsters came back for retribution. It’s not the end now – the story goes on.

Before I knew for sure that this was the start of an ongoing story, I had this down as the ‘parallel to the hero ‘ character episode. The similar but different one-off character who teaches us about our hero. This was a trope I’d seen and liked before, notably in Cowboy Bebop.

Pepe Lima’s at once obviously designed in terms of similarity to Michiko, and made very much her own woman in character terms. The sassy big-titted (perhaps creole instead of mestizo) lady with a kid to protect and a horrible attitude. Only the tits are fake. They do not jiggle.

First impressions saw this peroxide menace revelling in her sex and power. Confident, dolled-up, snappy. Her man didn’t seem to be her keeper, but a useless half-naked lord of children who bought her televisions. She leapt across tables with easy grace. Even her kid sidekick was a master thief, rather than a failed waitress. She seemed something stronger and harder than our real heroine.

Only soon we got to see what nagged at her mind – why she wasn’t happy in her position of relative power. We saw why she had to get out of this place to some “paradise” city that’s even more impossible than the elusive Hiroshi. She may or may not have been a poor little rich girl – I guess we can trust her story for now, but she might well have been fabricating. But, regardless, we can see that her problem had been in accepting the shallow comforts of sinecure in a slumlord’s pocket. And in the impossibility of her imagined escape.

She’s miserable, and she’s trapped by her lack of money. Her bold front is just that. It gives her a certain pride, but no salvation. In the end, she’s a conflicted dependent with a longing for autonomy that goes beyond the superficial and gets her shot.

This dark story makes sense of the ED. It shows a less than spritely jogger running fatly through slum streets, then taking off as the song goes goes ‘ah! besto friend’. Michiko to Hatchin is getting in touch with the unromantic reality of its setting. The slum jogger, sweating in a cheap tracksuit and maybe growing wings.

The highlight of this episode for me was that final confrontation with Pepe Lima. The stripper reduced to her pride and hopelessness. She was being a total dick. And Michiko, our girl, is left disgusted at the woman and at herself. Michiko who throws out a consolation when she had what it took to save the other. And, fuck it, we can see just why she held back. And why she’d hate herself for it.

That final refusal wasn’t just because Michiko could do with the money for her and her girl. It was because it’s not easy or natural to push yourself out for an arrogant snivelling failure. And Michiko isn’t some perfect moral exemplar, even if she wants to be the best person she can be. Michiko states her own belief in people. Because she’s truly independent, and her worldview has to be about personal capability. Despite this, when she had the chance, she couldn’t step up to it.

Michiko had gone, over this episode, from weakness to power. She started up in a rage, getting tripped up and abused. Then came the disintegration of her rival and the drinking contest. When it came down to the contest she was the one in control. She even had the money in her pocket. That’s independent power. The ballsy fake girl choked it up over the bar in her failure, Michiko was so cool she might as well have been drinking orange juice.

Hell, there was no way I was going to cover this episode without mentioning that scene.

Because much as I love the stylised misery, Hatchin’s mean drunk was an absolute treat. Eerily similar to one of the rages of a sober Michiko, Hatchin kept the momentum of the episode up with sheer comic verve. The show remains fun. You can see the fun in its shiny presentation, in the quick humour, and in the recurring cast – like the silly Chinese chef. Michiko to Hatchin is building a loveable and dingy place around its magnetic and complicated lead duo. It is keeping things fun as well as powerful. Roll on next week.