Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am eager to return Yuri is My Job!’s fanciful Cafe Liebe, and see how Hime attempts to disentangle her latest foot-in-mouth insertion. She was actually doing quite well last episode, with the accidental reveal of her private performance ultimately resulting in a moment of genuine honesty between her and Mitsuki. Hime was even driven to admit to the past trauma that had convinced her only a flawless, all-encompassing social performance could prevent her from being despised and abandoned; unfortunately, it turned out Mitsuki herself was precisely the person who instigated that trauma, prompting a fresh rift between them.

Nonetheless, even this new conflict seems like a healthy step forward for both of them. Coming to truly know about others’ feelings will inevitably invite friction, the kind of friction that might prompt you to hide within a loveable facade like Hime, or gravitate towards ritualized performances of intimacy like the Cafe Liebe crew. But it is only by continuing to invite that friction that you might find true, earnest companionship, and discover that everyone else is muddling through just as awkwardly as you are. We cling to scripts when we believe everyone else already has one; the truth is, everyone engages in a combination of performance and sincerity every day, all of us seeking an emotional safe harbor for our flawed, imperfect perceptions of self. As with the initial reveal of her performance, Hime has once again ripped off the band-aid accidentally, leaving a raw mark to tell of her painful prior experiences with Mitsuki. This leaves them both more vulnerable than before, but it is only through embracing vulnerability that we might arrive at genuine mutual trust. Let’s see how spectacularly they fail to manage it!

Episode 4

I mentioned it before, but it’s striking how much Hime and Mitsuki resemble Oregairu’s protagonists Hachiman and Yukino. Those two also recognized the kayfabe of society, and responded to it in bold and self-destructive ways – Hachiman by decrying all of social interactions as “fake” and removing himself from the equation, Yukino by deciding to become a beacon of sincerity in a false world, and demanding others rise to her level. The specifics differ, but these two are basically a less socially maladjusted version of that pair

“I Hate You.” Well that’s not promising

“I guess you really didn’t realize at all.” Seems Mitsuki knew who Hime was from the start. Not much surprise there, Hime has changed her look far less than Mitsuki, who’s like three times her original size

We cut back to Hime’s introduction in grade school as a transfer student. From the start, her affectation is clearly a performance, full of overly bright smiles and little dance-like flourishes of movement

“I was nervous at first, but you all taught me a lot, so I’m fine now!” Hime’s childhood performance is certainly impressive. She consistently presents herself as someone to be protected and fawned over, while also praising her classmates’ abilities to do precisely that. She’s somehow evincing a sense of humility while simultaneously positioning herself as the class mascot

“Someone cute like me just needs to behave adorably to be liked.” But of course, this performance will never lead to being actually understood, to having confidants with whom you can express your less generous thoughts. This sort of relationship is simply a job, little different from Cafe Liebe

Her first interaction with Mitsuki involves Mitsuki intruding on her performance, asking her to move so Mitsuki can sweep the room. It seems Mitsuki has always found comfort in rules and rituals, more tangible methods of “correct behavior” than Hime’s manipulative performances

Mitsuki will be playing the piano accompaniment to their chorus performance, but the other girls hope that Hime can replace her

After school, Hime reassures herself that she can pull this off. Her approach to socialization is so much work, such a continuous tightrope act, and she somehow plans to maintain this for the rest of her life. She sees relationships only as problems to be managed, not bonds to be nurtured or even relied on

She finds Mitsuki practicing piano after school. Again, Mitsuki finds comfort in following clear rules or patterns, like sheet music

“Sorry about the cleanup thing.” “About what?” Mitsuki isn’t fluent in Hime’s language of continuous apologies and gratitude, the constant reassurances she uses to maintain the right bubbly discourse

It turns out Hime actually loves and is quite good at piano, even though she told her classmates she couldn’t play

Mitsuki wonders why Hime would lie about that, to which Hime responds with a perfect analysis of what their classmates were doing: intentionally provoking and attempting to isolate Mitsuki, something she didn’t want to participate in. Neither lies nor manipulation of social dynamics are necessarily “bad” things – they are simply tools, which can be used skillfully or poorly, for good or for evil

Given Hime’s perspective here, it seems clear that Mitsuki’s eventual betrayal actually convinced her not to use her social skills to shelter others, since that road only ends in being ostracized

“They don’t like it when I ask everyone to take it seriously. Why is that? Shouldn’t they be putting their all into it?” Easy to see how this girl grew into the Mitsuki we know at Cafe Liebe. She finally found a place where taking your position seriously isn’t just encouraged, it’s required, and where social dynamics play out according to a script that she can memorize and excel at, rather than a nebulous set of “vibes” that her serious, task-oriented personality always seemed at odds with

“They don’t have the confidence to take things seriously like you do.” A sharp analysis by Hime. Sincere investment in anything makes you vulnerable; it’s far easier to float above the fray, never being pinned down by any genuine belief or passion, and thus never having a weakness to target. It can be comforting to maintain that distance, but genuinely finding your people demands defining yourself and pursuing your passion, never mind what the onlookers say about you. Sometimes that confidence will actually draw people towards you, particularly if it’s combined with a degree of social grace, affability, and an ability to at least superficially laugh at yourself. But Mitsuki is both serious-minded and kind of antisocial, which means her passion makes her a pariah

Hime laments that she now has to hide her piano ability at school, and Mitsuki suggests they learn a duet together

In spite of their differences, they ultimately grow close working on the new piece together

But Mitsuki remains resentful of the attitude of the other students. When they ask her to join them at a water park, she roughly intrudes, dragging Hime away and declaring that she’s busy with piano practice. She is very defensive of this rare common understanding she has found with Hime

Hime explains that she’s not actually close to them, which is some comfort to Mitsuki, but she still believes Hime shouldn’t lie. Like so many other loners, Mitsuki chooses to frame the social graces inherent in putting on a public performance as “immoral” in some way, which is ultimately just a way of validating her own lack of such graces

“I thought you’d choose them over the piano.” The piano is something real, something that rewards your practice, something that will never lie to you

Mitsuki invites Hime to her own house to practice, revealing that Mitsuki has grown up wealthy and high-class. Presumably a lot of Cafe Liebe’s assumptions actually flatter her personal upbringing, making for an easy and nostalgic transition

“I bet being born in a family like this would make every day a joy.” Mitsuki seems to possess everything Hime dreams of, but it brings her little happiness

“You’re wasting time chatting again.” “So we’re not hanging out?” Mitsuki seems perpetually uncomfortable in conversation, preferring to always be task-oriented. Cafe Liebe really is perfect for her, a place where conversation is formalized, where it can be practiced and executed like any other instrument

Group practice doesn’t go as well as they’d hoped, with Mitsuki declaring that “Hime-chan, you’re too easily affected by other’s mistakes.” Hime always adjusts her behavior to maintain group harmony, but Mitsuki simply ignores that which fails to meet her expectations

“Before I knew it, everything was starting to fall apart.” Mitsuki actually welcomes the scorn of her classmates, but Hime can’t stretch herself between these two worlds

Eventually, the other girls start to claim that Mitsuki is actually bullying Hime into playing piano

Seeing the danger to her own position, she eventually relents, and chooses to join her other classmates for a pool outing instead of continuing practice

But it’s actually a ploy, simply facilitating the easier rejection of “my mom says I need to stay home.” This way she loses no points with her classmates, but still gets to practice piano

“Remember that about me, that I lie.” And yet this final lie facilitates a genuine friendship, as the two spend their time talking and sharing their feelings rather than simply practicing

Oh no. So Hime eventually quits the piano performance, thinking it’ll take pressure off of Mitsuki. But of course, Mitsuki cares far less about the opinions of their other classmates than she does about continuing to play piano with the one person she likes. Hime is applying her own fears to Mitsuki, attempting to be kind, but not truly understanding her friend

“We wouldn’t ever force you to do anything,” says one of the other girls, even as they rigidly enforce their social orthodoxy and mock anyone who expresses an unacceptable degree of passion for anything except socializing

“It was supposed to be for Mitsuki,” she thinks as Mitsuki tears her world apart. Oof, what an unfortunate ending

And Done

Thus their full communal history is established, reaffirming how much each of them still hates the other. Wonderful! Excellent work, glad we talked it out, happy to see all of that resolved. I’d like to think a bit more earnest conversation might clear the air, but honestly, at this point, it doesn’t seem like either of them actually believe communication is a route to mutual understanding. Hime sees communication as a weapon to be wielded in order to fool others, maintaining her distant poise and thus never allowing herself to be hurt. Mitsuki sees communication as the realm of deceivers, people who refuse to commit themselves to anything real, and thus another sphere to be rejected in favor of her reliable, trustworthy realm of practice and performance. Through their efforts to make an earnest connection, each of them were punished and driven even further back into their defensive philosophies. Forget starting at zero, they are each other’s nemesis, each hating the other for perfectly understandable reasons. We’ve certainly got our work cut out for us!

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