Toradora’s second episode is essentially one entirely self-contained love story, though its participants don’t really understand that. I wondered in my last writeup if my memories of Ryuji and Taiga’s rapport were a little rose-tinted, and whether Taiga’s tsundere schtick would get tiresome in the long run. Well, I am happy to report that that’s absolutely not the case – these two are still wonderful together, and through this episode, we see them essentially perform their first dates, first fight, and first reconciliation, ultimately arriving at a comfortable and engaging neutral. I’m always on the lookout for more romances about couples who are already in a relationship, and though Ryuji and Taiga would argue heatedly to the contrary, I’m now realizing that part of this show’s strength is that in many ways, it’s already there.

Ryuji and Taiga build their rapport naturally across the course of this episode. We open with a repeat of the first episode’s introductory shots, leading into the reveal that Taiga has now joined the family’s morning routine. Through this scene and their walk to school, Ryuji and Taiga build up their first communal relationship – a fairly antagonistic one, built on Taiga saying something rude and Ryuji offering a mocking response. It’d be easy for such an abrasive bond to come off as simply aggravating, but it’s clear even here that Ryuji finds Taiga’s outbursts endearing, and accepts that the caustic way she expresses herself is key to who she is. The relationship is similar in some ways to that of Haruhi and Kyon from Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya – like Haruhi, Taiga here performs all the brash, socially unacceptable icebreaker actions, which Kyon/Ryuji accept with a labored sigh while secretly appreciating them for it.

The reciprocity of their bond is clear even when it comes to Taiga’s implied threat of “help me with Kitamura or I’ll tank your chances with Minori.” Ryuji’s reaction isn’t one of a put-upon victim – he actively welcomes the challenge, and by the time the two are scheming together in gym class, it’s clear they’re actually having a great time together. This episode’s early scenes thus work both as a narrative celebration of the useless, overwrought schemes adolescents often use to get close to their crush, as well as the mundane, everyday conversations that actually bring people closer. Ryuji and Taiga’s “first date” involves the both of them utterly failing to get closer to the people they want to date, but having a great time failing together.

The strength of these sequences is bolstered by a great deal of other variables; the relatable specificity of their feelings, their way of turning a nebulous conflict like “romantic longing” into a clear and goofy scheme, and perhaps most importantly, the punch of the show’s execution. Gags like Taiga getting hit by a basketball aren’t thrilling in the abstract, but Toradora’s snappy visual sequencing and ear for comedic timing sells its gags in the same way Love Live’s all-star sitcom direction sells its own silly beats. And as the two fail together throughout the day, Ryuji’s legitimate concern for Taiga begins to make more and more sense. Taiga combines a helplessness he can’t help but respond to with a strength he can’t help but desire for himself, offering validation for both who he currently is and who he wishes to be.

Taiga’s own emotional complexity and fundamental realness are also given great illustration through this episode’s series of romantic mishaps. Though she spent the first episode mostly just being an insecure pill, her anger here is tempered by a genuine appreciation for Ryuji’s efforts, and regret for muddying his own romantic prospects. Her explanations into why she gravitated towards Ryuji’s house give us a great deal of insight into her family life, revealing a lot more than shows like this usually give us within their first couple episodes. But that too is key to what makes Toradora great – like with Ryuji’s family circumstances in the first episode, Taiga’s distance from her parents isn’t a “problem to solve” or a “secret explanation for her personality.” These are simply the circumstances that contribute to who she is, the personal truths that don’t fit into melodramatic love confessions, but ultimately help form the mutual understanding required for love to bloom.

Taiga and Ryuji’s mutual frustration culminate in one of Toradora’s early highlights, as Taiga rails at everyone in her life for not understanding the pain she feels. “No one understands me” is teenagerdom cliche, but this scene captures something uglier and more specific – the sense of resentment a young person can start to feel towards their actual crush, for all the uncertainty and pain and discomfort they unintentionally provoke in their admirer. “We’re nervous wrecks over here, and they don’t have a clue. Everyone really pisses me off!” Taiga complements her anger by kicking at a telephone pole, a hopeless gesture that perfectly echoes her own directionless rage. Taiga’s actions may be pointless, but they still speak to Ryuji, and tell him that it’s okay to feel all these angry, selfish, useless feelings. You could say that him joining in on Taiga’s anger, and smiling back at her glee over actually shifting the pole, was the moment he fell in love with her.

Taiga follows that climactic outburst by announcing she’ll finally confess to Kitamura, and end her partnership with Ryuji. That declaration essentially acts as the “hero’s low point” of this entire-romantic-drama-slash-single-episode, with her finality being the kick Ryuji needs to realize he doesn’t actually want to stop being Taiga’s accomplice. These days were fun, and Taiga’s easy to talk to. He might not love her, but he also doesn’t love the thought of losing her friendship. Neither Ryuji nor Taiga yet understand what their ease of conversation actually means, but Kitamura certainly does – and it’s possibly that understanding that leads him to turn Taiga down, in a scene as gentle in its dialogue as it is stark and final in its brutal layouts.

The episode ends on the romantic redemption scene, with Ryuji offering one of the most embarrassing speeches of all time in order to justify his continued friendship with Taiga. It’s messy and uncool and not really convincing, but it’s exactly the sympathy Taiga needs. Unlike so many anime romances, Toradora understands that chemistry is the foundation romance is built on. There’s no longing, because these two don’t love each other. There’s no stammering, because they’re friends and like each other and don’t think about each other that way. There’s only the clumsy, compassionate, utterly charming conversation of two people who are perfect for each other, but just haven’t realized it yet.

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