Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re diving back into the thorny drama of Yuri is My Job!, having at last borne witness to the full prior relationship of Hime and Mitsuki. Back in grade school, each of them were outsiders of their own kind; Mitsuki was rejected as a too-serious weirdo, and though Hime was popular, she had no one with whom she could share her actual, honest feelings. The two found a brief sanctuary in each other, where Mitsuki could embrace her passions without judgment, and Hime could admit to the ungenerous feelings that simmered beneath her persona. But tragically, while they cared about each other, they never truly understood each other – thus Hime abandoned music to protect Mitsuki from the bullying she already expected, and Mitsuki responded by robbing Hime of the facade she herself couldn’t respect.
Thus we arrive at our current state of affairs, with Hime still traumatized by the consequences of revealing her true self, and Mitsuki seeing Hime as everything she despises about social performances. The two have arrived at Cafe Liebe from opposing poles: Hime sees Liebe’s performances as simply a quirky variation on her own affectation, while Mitsuki takes comfort in the regularity of these interactions, the rules she can internalize such that her passion makes her a star, not an outsider. Each of them has learned to feel ashamed of the person behind the mask, but at Cafe Liebe, they have the chance to hone their performances such that they need never look at their true selves in the mirror. Let’s see how this deeply unhealthy “solution” proceeds!
Episode 5
“If We Could Start Over.” See, that’s a much more encouraging episode title. And honestly, in spite of the bad blood between them, the way forward still seems clear. Mitsuki knows Hime much better now, knows how her performance is in large part a defense mechanism, and has even come to appreciate the comfort of performing an idealized self through her work at Cafe Liebe. The real question seems to be, can she accept how Hime and herself are actually alike? If she can accept that reality, she can accept Hime as well – unfortunately, it seems like a great portion of her current philosophy is based on her alleged rejection by Hime, just as Hime has oriented herself such as to never be hurt like she was by Mitsuki
We return at the end of their shift, with Mai bluntly asking why things have gotten so weird between Mitsuki and Hime
Mitsuki storms out, and Hime freezes in response to Mai’s question. She’s right back at that day Mitsuki blew her cover, not knowing what to do, simply panicking and waiting for the situation to be over
“She’s all grown up, and like, pretty and stuff.” Very generous words for your nemesis, Hime
“So, no need to get her to like you anymore?” Kanoko points out one possible optimistic takeaway, which of course echoes her perception of this situation. She actually doesn’t want Hime and Mitsuki getting closer, while Hime still feels compelled to make sure everyone likes her
“It’s just one person, right?” Kanoko’s questions are a handy vehicle for challenging Hime’s unconsidered assumptions here. Is Mitsuki just one random person to her?
“Everybody else loves you, Hime-chan.” About the most aggressive Kanoko can get
“There’s someone I can’t forget. A liar, a people pleaser, and someone so insincere… The girl who betrayed me.” At long last, we finally get a glimpse of Mitsuki’s perspective. Even her thoughts have sort of molded to the form of Cafe Liebe’s lingo
“Whenever I think about her, I wonder… was she the betrayer back then? If we could start over…” So Mitsuki actually had suspicions regarding how their original friendship played out, but Hime’s reemergence only validated her least generous read of the situation
“Did she come to see me?” Replaying the drama so far from Mitsuki’s perspective is kinda heartbreaking. She hasn’t hated Hime all this time, but Hime trampling over her new sanctuary certainly didn’t help
Yeah, it only takes till the Onee-sama business for her to realize Hime doesn’t recognize her and doesn’t particularly care about this cafe. So Hime is again a tourist, briefly mucking up Mitsuki’s private world and then dancing on in her careless way, surrounded by adoring followers
Sumika makes a show of putting on her aggressive gyaru face as she asks Hime what’s wrong, essentially using her affectation to imply “it’s okay to break kayfabe right now, just tell me what’s actually happening”
“After all you did to betray me, you don’t feel any guilt!?” Frankly happy to see some resentment from Hime. Hime’s mistake was simply not knowing what her friend truly wanted, but Mitsuki was the one who actively sabotaged Hime’s life. She has every right to feel angry
“While in the salon, you are all students of Liebe Girls Academy.” Mai lays down the law. Their personas were somewhat aspirational before, but now they’ll basically be performing the opposite of their true feelings. A turn that again emphasizes how limiting these genre-based performances of emotion can be; there’s no room for sulking in ugly, ungenerous feelings when you’re playing for a crowd, so rather than being a way to express and thus work through your negative feelings, the stage becomes a prison where you are forbidden from expressing any hint of your true perspective
And of course, in our modern world, that demand extends beyond such clearly defined performance spaces as Cafe Liebe. With so much of our identities now wrapped up in the internet, we are constantly being asked to perform versions of ourselves that will attract and please a larger and larger audience. And the more we swallow our true feelings and cater our mannerisms to this crowd, the less we can recognize and work through our underlying psychological challenges
The internet just sorta means high school continues forever, since you’re always expected to be “on” in a public-facing venue. In real life, you find your people and try to stay in touch, generally associating with those who actually understand and appreciate you. Online, the assumed audience is always a phantom, an amalgam of desires that encourages a flattening and smoothing of the self
“Um, I heard there was a new pair of sisters…” The cafe patrons emphasize how much is expected of Mitsuki and Hime. They can’t just complete their orders and say their assigned phrases, they are expected to be performing anxious intimacy together, turning the hushed asides and glances of a shoujo manga into a perpetual live show
In so many modern spheres, artists and performers are now expected to themselves be part of the product. You can’t just create your art and otherwise avoid the public eye; your persona must be an extension of and advertisement for your art, assuring audiences that they should invest in the brand that is you. By combining their waitress duties with their performances, Cafe Liebe compresses the grind of modern personal or creative expression into one exhausting mixture
“Actually, it seems like there’s trouble brewing between the two.” “Oh, so there’s a story playing out?” Even the distance between our leads’ performances and their true feelings is contextualized as an extension of the performance
Rather than letting them simply ignore each other, Sumika stirs the pot by telling Hime to ask Mitsuki for instruction
“No matter what I do, I only see her as Yano!” Pointed word choices by Hime; Mitsuki’s identity as the Yano of her past is so overwhelming that it supersedes any other possible performances
Hime receives “encouragement” from the patrons, which is really just them demanding the pair go back to their usual performances
God, what a terrible way to force two people to work through their actual disagreement, with a crowd of onlookers demanding they perform reconciliation in the “correct” way
Sumika again provokes Mitsuki, leading her to explode and storm backstage. Her feelings regarding Hime are too raw and ambiguous for her to turn into theater
“All that ‘please watch me!’ and ‘please applaud me!’ stuff! I can’t tell if she’s serious at all!” Mitsuki hates ambiguity in social cues, which is why she retreated from her classmates, and why she found such comfort in Cafe Liebe. Having Hime blur the lines between her standard social performance and Cafe Liebe’s rules isn’t just confusing, it’s a betrayal of her sanctuary
“I’d watch it if I were you. Everyone around you is putting up with your attitude for now, but you can’t rely on us forever.” Sumika offers the harsh truth: what Mitsuki loves about Cafe Liebe is a fantasy that few others share, even among her coworkers. She can’t just hide forever, shielding her feelings in the clear rules of Liebe Girls Academy. She has to learn to connect with others earnestly, and that means abandoning her formalized system of engagement, and accepting that others will not feel similarly passionate about always working towards some ideal of perfection
Even in her acceptance of fault, Mitsuki sees her failure as “undercutting the theme of the salon,” not failing to get along with her coworker. Her feelings are irrelevant, the thing they are creating is paramount
“You can’t just quit so easily. This isn’t a game.” Alone, Mitsuki continues to prioritize the sanctity of the performance, while Hime is just tired of the abuse
“There’s no way I would ever betray you, Yano!” Fortunately, pushing their new performance past the breaking point at last inspires some real honesty from both of them. Each of them still cares about the other, they’re just certain the other despises them
“No… what are you talking about?” Mitsuki has carefully sculpted her own version of their past, but Hime’s tears make it hard to still see herself as the innocent victim
“What did we just discuss? What did Yano try to tell me just now?” Mitsuki is of course still uncomfortable discussing her true feelings freely, leaving Hime to gather what she can from their discussion. Mitsuki is the one being difficult, but it’s not like she doesn’t know that – she’s likely been told that all her life, thus prompting her to retreat to the coherent safety of Cafe Liebe. Here, emotional expressions have a specific order and logic to them, and avoiding your true feelings is just part of the work. For the antisocial, forthright Mitsuki, it’s a kind of purgatory that might almost feel like paradise
“Ever since I found out she was Yano, my facade stopped working.” With Yano she could briefly be herself, and now she can’t turn her performance back on
Mai puts them through performance rehearsals, which are of course made doubly challenging because they’re also still figuring out how to interact with the people behind the masks, having essentially just been reintroduced to each other
“You must have poured part of your real feelings into the characters you played.” Mai is trying her best, but the problem now is that they can’t avoid combining their real feelings with their performances. It was easier when they were essentially strangers
“I do love a girl who takes work seriously.” Welp, Mitsuki’s found a point of synchronicity between her performance and true feelings, at least
And though her performance succeeds, Hime realizes afterwards that she’s actually voicing her true desires
The next day at work, history begins to repeat itself. The fans have clued into the discord between Mitsuki and Hime, and just as in grade school, they’re framing it as Mitsuki “bullying” Hime into being her partner
And Done
Well that’s certainly an ominous stinger, but it frankly also seems like an opportunity. I’m guessing Hime won’t let the same thing happen again; with the audience demanding an answer, I’m assuming this will be her opportunity to firmly declare her allegiance to Mitsuki, and that she cares more about Mitsuki’s feelings than the judgment of the crowd. And after this episode of genuine communication and reflection on their mistakes, it seems like both of them are ready to forgive the other, each of them only held back by their mistaken impression of the other’s feelings. Of course, Mitsuki is bad at expressing her feelings regardless, but Cafe Liebe offers a unique opportunity for her to turn emotional intimacy into a performance of mechanical competency, the only field where she truly feels comfortable. Good luck, you two messes!
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