No question there are many parallels between Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun and its stable-mate, Kuroshitsuji. Largely I think of the commercial aspects of the two series – how successful they are, and who their target audiences are. But they have Lewis Carrol in common too, seems to me. It was Black Butler that did the literal crossover (the “Ciel in Wonderland” OVA) and it has something of Carroll in its look and sensibility. But in terms of structure and visual aesthetic, I think Toilet-bound Hanako-kun is even closer. Nene’s adventures through the looking glass – and the strange creatures she meets there – are psychedelic in a very reminiscent way.

The extent to which this current setting is not “real” as Kou and Nene see it becomes ever-more clear. It’s not just students – Tsuchigomori-sensei and Yako-san seem to be normal (well, living) adults. Eventually Kou and Nene track down Mitsuba and force him to come clean about what he knows. Which is that this world is “fiction” – and if the two of them want to know more about it, they should enter the strange tower and ask the being inside it.

As suspected, Shijima-san of the Art Room is indeed a school wonder. Wonder #4 in fact, as she introduces herself. Right after feeling up Nene’s legs and marveling at her daikon-like ankles. The tower, she says, is both her art studio and her museum. She’s quite a cheerful apparition, though she seems genuinely surprised to hear her guests didn’t come to tour the museum. And even more when Nene announces that they want to go back to their own world. But it’s easy-peasy, Shijima-san says. Just take Yugi Amane and Mitsube Sousuke and kill them.

Apparently this wonder’s ability is to make fiction “real” (as we were told in the cold open last week, pretty much). But fiction needs a central character(s). And this one is built around Amane and Mitsuba, Shijima-san says. Kill them and the world will collapse in a jiffy. She even helpfully conjures up some weapons out of a painting to help make the job easier. But best hurry, she says, because if Nene and Kou linger too long in this fiction they’ll lose their memories of where they came from.

There are two parallel story tracks running here. The pathos in this situation is obvious. How can these two sweet kids kill Mitsuba and Amane, even if they’re “fake”? That’s compounded by the fact that they pair of them are miraculously alive when that should be impossible. And Amane is relentlessly cheerful and bright – “just as he would probably be if he were a real boy”, Nene muses. Rejecting a fake world even if it seemed happier for them would be one thing, and not an easy one. But actually killing them inside it? That’s an order of magnitude more horrific.

But then there’s the matter of “why”. We  don’t know the full details of Shijima-san of the Art Room’s nature yet, but it’s been implied that she creates fictional worlds upon request from students. Would she actually create one of her own volition? And if so, why this one? No, Occam’s Razor suggests that – like most artworks hanging in museums – this one was painted on commission. And we get our first clue as to who the patron is as the kids are preparing to go up onto the roof and watch the Perseid meteor shower, when Tsukasa shows up.

Where he goes, you know the dbs from the Broadcasting Club are close by too. And in fact our actual first clue was probably Mitsuba knowing something about all this, because if they’re involved so is he. And so it is – it seems the plan is to “trap” Kou and Nene inside this fictional world. But why is that? Natsuhiko seems disappointed that Shijima-san gave away the way out so quickly, but Sakura appears to be not at all worried. Hovering all this, for me, is an interesting larger question. Is it possible the divide between what any of these people consider real and fiction may not be as clear cut as we might assume?