A couple fun notes about this series. “Spree Killer” is actually the name of mangaka Naki Ringo’s first serialized manga. She also goes by the name “Aoki Spica”, and Spica was the name of the cafe from this episode. There is a general sense of fun to Otome Kaijuu Caraméliser, despite it dealing with monsters and some fairly dark themes of adolescent self-loathing. I never like to get too speculative about the possible autobiographical nature of fiction. But it does strike you that Naki is writing from the heart here at the very least.
One thing you can say for Kuroe – she’s self-aware. She knows she’s always hated herself, and she knows why. In some small way that gives her a little advantage over some teens, who may not be aware of the root cause of their dark mood. That’s not the same as saying her feelings are justified, or that she knows how to fix them. But that awareness extends to the impact Arata has on her disposition. He makes her feel better about herself – as if she’s someone worth loving. The problem is, she doesn’t quite buy into his POV yet.
Back at school that’s a problem. He’s popular, she’s a bottom-feeder. Ergo if people know they’re going out that’s bad for his social standing, and Kuroe doesn’t want that on her conscience. She initially tells him to pretend they don’t know each other, then relents and says they can pretend to be “just friends”. He begrudgingly agrees but tells her he wishes she’d be more selfish. Is Arata a little too good to be true? Sure – but this isn’t really about him, and it’s kind of a fairy tale anyway.
That plan goes to seed anyway when Arata’s little sister asks Kuroe to give him his forgotten lunch. And tells him her brother has been so distracted by thoughts of her he’s ignoring emergency alerts (about her). Some busybodies snap a photo and soon all the shallow cretins are gossiping about it, especially when his reaction to receiving the lunch leaves little doubt about how Arata feels. What’s worse they’ve been split into different classes. And while Manatsu promises to protect Kuroe if things get too hairy, she has her own affairs to deal with.
Enter Raimu, played by the excellent Shirashi Haruka. She’s a popular gal, a cosmetics influencer. And her first reaction on hearing the news about Psycho-tan is to correct her posture and apply some makeup. That’s a new experience for Kuroe but Raimu knows what she’s doing, and Arata is very impressed on their lunch break. After the final bell Kuroe works up the courage to ask Raimu where she got the lip gloss she put on her (which I think was a very important breakthrough for her). Raimu offers to take Kuroe out to buy some, and her blessing already give Kuroe something of a deflector shield against the photon torpedoes of the other girls.
As with Arata, we’re sort of conditioned to suspect that Raimu is two-faced. And while she kind of is in the literal sense her kindness towards Kuroe is totally genuine. She has a reason to understand where Kuroe is coming from, though that won’e become apparent until a broken water main showers the pair of them after leaving the shop. The results are surprising to say the least, and set up quite a panic for Raimu. But once Kuroe locates her makeup case she quickly regains control of the situation.
Of course we’re doing a bit of a “King Kong vs. Godzilla” thing here, and that’s pretty funny. But Raimu’s gorilla girl story is a pretty sad one, another case of a teen ostracized for their appearance and developing a complex over it. It’s great that she felt Kuroe was someone she could confide in (there aren’t many). But now Kuroe knows Raimu’s secret without Raimu knowing hers. And her deepening fillers for Arata only make it harder for her to keep a lid on the truth.
