This is our first extended look at a Hachiman solution. Since in his judgment Rumi has already been judged wanting as a loner, and "the world will never change, only you can," his answer is to "become the god of a new world," which sounds suspiciously like embracing the emotional solipsism he and Yukino have already exhibited - cut yourself off from the lives of others as far as possible; turn yourself into a self-sufficient island. This will give you the power of a god, omnipotence. None can harm you.
The final day of camp is organized around a test of courage and a bonfire - two things which naturally tend to produce camaraderie and community. Predictably, Hachiman's mused recollections are of precisely the opposite; dances, parties, and bonfires are great for friendships, but for loners and outcasts, they emphasize the alienation. Is there a way to subvert that in Rumi's case?
Apparently, in Japanese schools, you have the same class until you graduate grade school, and then get a new class which you have till high school graduation. Rumi asks Hachiman if he has any friends from elementary school (the answer is obvious), indicating whether or not she should make an effort to reach out if it's going to end in nothing anyway. Yui (bless her) voices an objection, but when Yukino backs him up (again: unsurprising), Hachiman ruthlessly dissects her argument, concluding that the odds of staying friends are close to zero. Interestingly, this same social logic applies in all circumstances; in any group among which you find yourself, there are rare possibilities for friendship and camaraderie, particularly if some kind of hardship or shared struggle or accomplishment is involved. School and various training programs immediately come to mind. Hachiman's logic isn't wrong, but it's wrongheaded and self-defeating, because it tends toward a sort of social lethargy, a form of despair.
In Rumi's case, shunning is the catalyst, which she apparently did when another girl was the victim, and now has no idea when it will happen to her again or not. Cliques are capricious and unpredictable, and can viciously turn inwards at the slightest random provocation. Thus, Rumi's solution: "I thought it would be okay to stop trying." People judge by stereotypes and first impressions, according to Hachiman, who concludes that such impressions indelibly last. "If you try and do something and stand out, they just use it to bring you down. Such is the iron rule of the rotten society of children." Ender Wiggin could have penned those lines.
Hachiman details his solution to the group: "If your problem is based on relationships, if you destroy those relationships then the problem disappears." If everyone is a loner, the clock is reset. Presumably the older children will destroy the friendships of the younger. This sounds dubious for a whole host of reasons. It could also easily backfire.
During the test of courage, the popular older kids, including Hayama, start humiliating the rotten little kids. It is viciously delicious. Small children are rotten to the core and watching mini tyrants get their comeuppance, while extremely childish, makes one gleeful and satisfied. Two are ordered to stay, while the other three can leave. Of course, Rumi is chosen first, since she's the outcast, but there must be one more, so the clique turns on itself and ostracizes another. It is random arbitrary, and mean; and manifestly so even to the same children. Hachiman's plan is to have the group in question show itself how ugly it really is; in his mind, that will "pummel the relationships surrounding Rumi to dust," but it also might lay the foundation for something more enduring. That, in fact, is why Hayama goes along with the plan. He sees the world in a very different way than Hachiman does.
The result is delightful and strange; The clique must self-destruct, but Rumi takes the initiative by blinding the tormentors and leading the escape. It doesn't seem to fix the problem, but it does seem to dissolve the arbitrary and ostracizing tendency of Rumi's friends. The whole scenario seems to have been good for Rumi more than anything else, because it revealed the solidity and goodness of her own character. Justice was done, in a low, petty sort of way.
And thus it is back to real life for the three friends. Fascinating as it is to see how the same relationships change when given responsibility, Hachiman & Co return to living their own lives, instead of living their lives through others'. Already, cracks are appearing in the group; faint, hairline cracks, but weaknesses all the same. Yui is obviously in love with Hachiman (her reasons totally escape me), and Haruno intimates that Yukino is or will be as well. Of course, fun and flirty (i.e., afraid and insecure) Haruno could just be running her mouth, but perhaps not.
More important, however, is that Yui and Hachiman both recognize the car that picks Yukino up; the same car that ran him over. That means Yukino, the girl who claims to be indefatigably honest ("I never lie") has in fact lied, when she said she'd never met Hachiman before. For someone who values integrity as much as Hachiman, and someone who genuinely believed Yukino was who she said she was as fervently as he did, this ending arc does not bode well for what is to come.
The final day of camp is organized around a test of courage and a bonfire - two things which naturally tend to produce camaraderie and community. Predictably, Hachiman's mused recollections are of precisely the opposite; dances, parties, and bonfires are great for friendships, but for loners and outcasts, they emphasize the alienation. Is there a way to subvert that in Rumi's case?
Apparently, in Japanese schools, you have the same class until you graduate grade school, and then get a new class which you have till high school graduation. Rumi asks Hachiman if he has any friends from elementary school (the answer is obvious), indicating whether or not she should make an effort to reach out if it's going to end in nothing anyway. Yui (bless her) voices an objection, but when Yukino backs him up (again: unsurprising), Hachiman ruthlessly dissects her argument, concluding that the odds of staying friends are close to zero. Interestingly, this same social logic applies in all circumstances; in any group among which you find yourself, there are rare possibilities for friendship and camaraderie, particularly if some kind of hardship or shared struggle or accomplishment is involved. School and various training programs immediately come to mind. Hachiman's logic isn't wrong, but it's wrongheaded and self-defeating, because it tends toward a sort of social lethargy, a form of despair.
In Rumi's case, shunning is the catalyst, which she apparently did when another girl was the victim, and now has no idea when it will happen to her again or not. Cliques are capricious and unpredictable, and can viciously turn inwards at the slightest random provocation. Thus, Rumi's solution: "I thought it would be okay to stop trying." People judge by stereotypes and first impressions, according to Hachiman, who concludes that such impressions indelibly last. "If you try and do something and stand out, they just use it to bring you down. Such is the iron rule of the rotten society of children." Ender Wiggin could have penned those lines.
Hachiman details his solution to the group: "If your problem is based on relationships, if you destroy those relationships then the problem disappears." If everyone is a loner, the clock is reset. Presumably the older children will destroy the friendships of the younger. This sounds dubious for a whole host of reasons. It could also easily backfire.
During the test of courage, the popular older kids, including Hayama, start humiliating the rotten little kids. It is viciously delicious. Small children are rotten to the core and watching mini tyrants get their comeuppance, while extremely childish, makes one gleeful and satisfied. Two are ordered to stay, while the other three can leave. Of course, Rumi is chosen first, since she's the outcast, but there must be one more, so the clique turns on itself and ostracizes another. It is random arbitrary, and mean; and manifestly so even to the same children. Hachiman's plan is to have the group in question show itself how ugly it really is; in his mind, that will "pummel the relationships surrounding Rumi to dust," but it also might lay the foundation for something more enduring. That, in fact, is why Hayama goes along with the plan. He sees the world in a very different way than Hachiman does.
The result is delightful and strange; The clique must self-destruct, but Rumi takes the initiative by blinding the tormentors and leading the escape. It doesn't seem to fix the problem, but it does seem to dissolve the arbitrary and ostracizing tendency of Rumi's friends. The whole scenario seems to have been good for Rumi more than anything else, because it revealed the solidity and goodness of her own character. Justice was done, in a low, petty sort of way.
And thus it is back to real life for the three friends. Fascinating as it is to see how the same relationships change when given responsibility, Hachiman & Co return to living their own lives, instead of living their lives through others'. Already, cracks are appearing in the group; faint, hairline cracks, but weaknesses all the same. Yui is obviously in love with Hachiman (her reasons totally escape me), and Haruno intimates that Yukino is or will be as well. Of course, fun and flirty (i.e., afraid and insecure) Haruno could just be running her mouth, but perhaps not.
More important, however, is that Yui and Hachiman both recognize the car that picks Yukino up; the same car that ran him over. That means Yukino, the girl who claims to be indefatigably honest ("I never lie") has in fact lied, when she said she'd never met Hachiman before. For someone who values integrity as much as Hachiman, and someone who genuinely believed Yukino was who she said she was as fervently as he did, this ending arc does not bode well for what is to come.
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