Well team, I don’t think we’re doing so great. The group’s journey to Seriousuka’s home dimension played out in the worst possible way; not only did they fail to prevent the King of Twilight’s attack, but it was actually Yu herself who let their enemy in, leading to the wholesale destruction of Seriousuka’s sanctuary. Now Asuka and her friends have to carry the weight of failing an entire dimension on their backs, have lost their most competent ally, and are still no closer to preventing the corruption of the multiverse. I have a feeling the time for dress-up tea shop digressions is entirely behind us.

Things may be going terribly for our heroines, but in narrative terms, all these disasters sound like great news to me. So far, Asuka has spent this entire series running from responsibility. Her personal character journey of taking adulthood seriously has been mirrored by the larger scifi narrative, as each of her friends in turn come to some key realization about their goals and identity. In the face of all this growth, Asuka has steadfastly held on to her childlike identity – but now that this girl who was like a sister to her has suffered because of her team, can she really continue to take things so lightly? You know I like putting characters through the crucible, so I’m ready for an identity crisis of some kind as we storm towards the finale. Let’s get to it!

Episode 10

As expected, we open on a moment of total despair, as the team return back to their own reality. The weather matches our team’s feelings – a total downpour, complete with fog that sets the whole day in a grey, colorless haze

“Why can’t we go to her fragment?” “It’s probably gone.” “That can’t be true!” And yep, as expected, Asuka is initially reacting to this situation with defiant disbelief. She’s been steadfastly avoiding any recognition of consequences or time’s passage in her own life, so of course she reacts to this turn of events with denial, as well

The Girl in Twilight is generally quite good about using all of its scifi invention to illustrate and propel its character/thematic goals. This story clearly wasn’t invented from the worldbuilding up – the worldbuilding, character arcs, and thematic intent were all designed to mirror each other, with the “parallel world” conceit acting as a neat way for the characters to try on different career hats, and thus come to a healthier relationship with the approach of adulthood. In general, if you want to make a thematically cohesive narrative, the worldbuilding should be designed to best illustrate your themes – like in Madoka Magica, with its story of how women are commodified in modern society, and how even empathy is exploited by the system. Worlds like these don’t just accidentally happen to work as neat thematic parables; they are designed from the ground up as parables, like all great thematically driven fiction

Incidentally, this is part of why I’m generally not interested in sequels or expanded universes or whatnot. Madoka Magica used its dramatic resources to tell one clear, concise story; nothing was wasted, no dangling edges existed. In contrast, something like Magia Record feels more like fan fiction to me – it extrapolates on the surface texture of the original, but has none of its focus, purposefulness, or insight. I know folks love their worldbuilding, but a narrative made out of worldbuilding is like a cake made out of icing

Sexy Yu is actually the one to comfort Asuka, which makes sense; she’s the only one who’s experienced this scale of loss before

Appropriately, the sky remains gray through the next day. Matching the colors and weather to your characters’ moods feels like an obvious trick, but it’s still a good one – and the opposite case, where it’s bright and sunny while your character is in the dumps, creates a specific sense of emotional contrast that isn’t always the right choice. If your characters are sad, frequently the best choice is to have the weather be sad along with them

Everyone did bad on midterms because they were preoccupied by the guilt of dooming a reality. Surely that must be considered a reasonable excuse for a retake

Unsurprisingly, Asuka’s been skipping school since their return

When she returns, she puts on an over-the-top display of being back to her cheerful self. So she’s retreated from the truth – just like how she can’t come to terms with growing up, she’s refusing to come to terms with Seriousuka’s death

“Those tests are going to influence your future career choices.” And Asuka immediately interrupts him, once again hammering in her fundamental fear here

Asuka wants to carry on Seriousuka’s Clutter-fighting duties. Unsurprisingly, Sheriff Mia agrees

After Asuka leads the others inside the cafe, Yu and Chloe frankly discuss her current behavior. As usual, Girl in Twilight’s greatest strength is the naturalistic dialogue between its leads, as they wonder whether this new affectation is better than Asuka genuinely admitting to her depression. Also makes sense that Yu and Chloe, her two most perceptive friends, would be the ones to have this talk

Oh, damn. After her brother’s disappearance, Asuka adopted a similarly overly-happy affectation – and that was also the point she declared she’d take over the family business. We now have a direct connection between her emotional need to bury her grief and her clinging to a state of arrested development, by claiming she’ll never leave her home. Letting go of her childish “I’m going to take over the family business” dream would be like letting go of her brother – and now, it seems like not stepping up to fight the Clutters would be like letting go of Seriousuka. She’s developed a consistent coping method for hiding away her grief

It’s not really in Yu’s nature, but she really needs to confront Asuka alone, and try to help her through this wall

Asuka proposes a Christmas party for Takumi, the boy who served as the link, and the one person they were able to save

Nana seems most willing of all to accept this new Asuka, since she’s mostly just concerned with maintaining positive vibes

Well shit, the King of Twilight’s already here

This is a tough episode to watch; it’s mostly just Yu sending pained looks at Asuka, as she revels in her unhealthy coping mechanisms

Asuka very stupidly offers Takumi a wish. “I wish big sister Asuka would come get me soon!”

Takumi is both wiser than his age and very kind; he feels uncomfortable existing in this world, because he knows he’s essentially stolen the life of another Takumi, and that this version of his parents don’t actually know him

Tomoyo Kurosawa’s doing a good job of portraying the strain on Asuka’s sunny disposition. She’s pretty close to the tone she was using in the early series, but it’s exaggerated now – she draws out her syllables just a bit more, indicating how hard she’s currently working to appear upbeat

“What’s wrong with telling a scared kid that everything’s going to be okay?” Yu at last confronts Asuka, with the two of them using Takumi’s feelings as a proxy for questioning Asuka’s behavior

“You’re ignoring the reality in front of you, and avoiding what you should really be doing!” At last,Yu comes out and says it. This is all true, and Yu means it kindly, but framing it as an accusation probably will not help

“You think I’m coasting through life, don’t you?” “I just think you should say what you really feel!” “I always say what I really feel.” Oh man, such good friction here. They’re both so hurt and fragile at this point that it makes sense they can’t connect, and only hurt each other more. Yu only wants to help Asuka and connect with her grief, but Asuka is beyond tired of being treated like a joke or a child

Angered by Asuka’s display, Yu just says something intended to genuinely wound her: “I’ve never once thought you’ve said something that came straight from your heart.” Oof

“You’re just gonna make her shut down even more.” Nana is just generally amused by the infighting of her less socially acclimated friends, but still offers some sage advice: “I think the best way isn’t to use words that really drill it into her head.” Yu wants to help, but the way she phrased her critique was more designed to express her own hurt and frustration than to help Asuka. As a generally straightforward person, Yu frequently ends up frustrated by the failures of the direct approach – she’d want other people to be straight with her, so she’s annoyed by Asuka’s failure to do so, and then ends up further muddling the situation by treating Asuka the way she’d like to be treated. Nana understands that for a lot of people, you have to talk around the big problem, gently leading them towards the intended conclusion with a great deal of tact and understanding

On the other hand, it’s obviously frustrating to be in Asuka’s position – doing your best to handle an untenable weight of grief, but being told by others that you’re grieving wrong. Both of their feelings here are understandable, which is always what makes for the best character drama

“Asuka looked away for a split second, and then he disappeared.” Asuka’s response to his disappearance makes even more sense now – she feels actively responsible for it, a much heavier weight to bear, and a reasonable motivation for feeling she must carry on the family business

And now Asuka’s being lured by the King of Twilight in Kyo’s form

Dang, super ambitious cut for the King’s reveal, as we make a full revolution around Asuka on the beach. Clever use of these yellow sparks here – they’re a natural tell for the King of Twilight, and also look really dramatic, but they simultaneously serve an underlying role of obscuring the background geometry, making it much easier to spin the camera around Asuka

Kyo explains that he is not the King, but the Emissary of Twilight, chosen by the King. So the King recruited him as a child?

AW SHIT IT’S NOT KYO IT’S A TINY ASUKA

And Done

Alright, we’re really in the endgame now! This episode offered precisely what I was hoping for – a painful interrogation of Asuka’s coping mechanisms, using the new tragedy of Seriousuka’s death to reflect on how Asuka has been compartmentalizing her feelings all along. That confrontation between her and Yu was harsh, but also oddly refreshing; the two are both such believable people that it’s a treat just watching them fight, and seeing how their mutual concern can actually make them hurt each other. Great character writing always feels like an unexpected gift, and Girl in Twilight’s narrative structure is perfectly designed to interrogate the roots of her feelings. This show’s visual production might be scrappy, but its writing is a consistent treat.

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