「ポヨンポヨンするの」 (Poyon Poyon Suru no)
“They Go Boing-Boing”
Now that’s the Strike Witches I remember. Boobs; breasts; buxom boing boing! And, erm, other things too. That’s right, never think this series forgot its true origins. I may be slightly peeved that story progression once again took a back seat to fun and games, but honestly, given how much fun was emphasized here (heh), I think I can live with a few disappointed brain cells.
Given Strike Witches’ proclivity for down ballot fan service, having a whole episode devoted to showing why T comes before A definitely is a cause for some celebration. Especially when it’s Francesca starting things off. Hilariously on-point cackling? Please, it’s all about that snaggle tooth! Oh, and all the fun which comes from Charlotte going full shock and awe, because that little bit of entertainment will never lose its value. Don’t worry Perrine, bigger is not always necessarily better.
If oscillating mammary glands and watching Witches go full horror with true jump scares wasn’t enough too, we also got the absolute comedy which comes courtesy of Yoshika’s latest magic troubles. While this will inevitably be another excuse to backseat Yoshika later on—i.e. next week—it does give rise to some seriously hilarious linkages between the allure of boobs and a Witch’s magical powers. I mean the results speak for themselves, but ever consider why Yoshika has so much latent magic in the first place? Why because she’s a washboard of course—everyone knows flat is justice, and justice is pure and wholesome. That crumpled magic pipe? The result of some age-related thoracic landscaping and a deficit of Lynette fondling (gotta keep that internal pipe corrosion down for consistent fluid flow you know) that I’m sure will be solved in time for next anti-Neuroi offensive. Oh yes siree. Never think for a second Strike Witches doesn’t give some consideration for its universe mechanics, because I guarantee you the lessons learned this week will find a way to slyly pop back up later on when the going gets tough.
Or, you know, at least once Eila can finally admit what’s written all over her face. Hey, if Gertrude can admit her deepest thoughts so can she!