fry the rice

Her face there puts my heart through the wringer each and every time I think about it.

What makes this moment so powerful to me is that by now we've seen how capable Coco is. We've seen how even in life or death situations, she's able to push past the fear and inspire people with her determination and creativity. We see the strides she makes in her studies and how unbending she is both with her craft and with the people around her. And we see her at her lowest, too - and isn't this moment something of a parallel to her panicked rush for the tower? What Coco needed at that moment, and what Qifrey was able to provide because he's been in Coco's position, was hope for the future.

And that's what this child needs, too. She doesn't need a magic wand. All she needs is a little bit of hope. Something, anything, to give direction to all that childlike awe and wonder.

This isn't an Brimmed Cap plot, or some complicated test or trial, or a dark mood to work through. If it was any of those things, we know there would be a way out, because we know Coco doesn't give up.

It's just a little girl asking for her joy to be validated.

It's a happy, gentle moment, in broad daylight, during an event meant to bring joy to the people.

This simple little moment encapsulates so much of Coco's character and journey so far. It's not just painful because there's nothing she can say.

She knows what she needs to hear. She knows what she wants to say. She knows why she can't say it, but just how much harder is it to follow the rules when you're a living example that the rules can be bent? She knows she's responsible for this spark of wonder she's now expected to snuff out. She knows this child is just the first in a long line of hearts she'll have to watch break, unless changes are made. And she's far from the only witch who's had this struggle, but she's the only one who is expected to demean and lie to her own past self, to refuse to offer the exact same hope she herself once needed.

No other witch is expected to shun their inner child like this.

And honestly, as heartbreaking as all of that is, there's something even more painful to consider. Because in this scene, the issue is that between telling the child she can't be a witch, and telling the child to keep on hoping, there's no answer that doesn't feel like a lie.

That's where we're at in ch50, at least. But with what Coco has been through since then, and what's in store for the future, how long before the horrible third answer starts creeping in?

How long before she looks at that kid, looking so much like herself at that festival years ago, thinks back on what she's gone through, and starts wondering whether the good really outweighs the bad? How much pain is left before she arrives a different answer, and tells the child "you shouldn't want to become a witch like me"?