Pome-kun’s one-sided love story gets rejected for being “ick,” and then the universe delivers the cruelest punchline: the girl he’s been trying to impress is already living with the god of manga himself. Episode 10 of Tadaima, Ojamasaremasu! is the kind of episode that makes you laugh at a sad puppy and then feel bad for laughing. It’s a sharp turn from the previous episode’s focus on Satsuki’s secret pen name, pulling Pome’s quiet crush into the spotlight and letting it collide with the chaotic domestic triangle we’ve been watching from Rinko’s side. The result is a half-hour that’s equal parts comedy, harsh creative advice, and genuine heartbreak, all held together by the series’ knack for making pathetic characters deeply endearing.
The Pathetic Puppy Plan (and Why It Works)
The episode opens with Pome, Hazuki, and Cogi eating bean sprouts over rice again, dreaming of the day they’ll make it big and eat meat every day. Cogi’s fantasy menu—beef bowls, steaks, and katsu curry as a beverage—is the kind of broke-artist humor that grounds these three immediately. They’re hungry, they’re struggling, and Pome’s motivation is tangled up in a crush on an older girl from his apartment complex. Hazuki and Cogi have already diagnosed him as a “pathetic puppy type,” and this episode they push him to weaponize it.
The advice is absurd but weirdly practical: instead of trying to be cool, Pome should lean into his natural pitifulness, the quality that makes people want to dote on him. Hazuki even maps out a strategy: trigger Rinko’s “I can’t leave him” mode, maybe by standing in the rain like a stranded puppy. Pome is mortified, but when Rinko appears on the street, he fumbles through a request: if their manuscript gets approved, he wants homemade Valentine’s chocolates as a reward. The way he stammers, then blurts out “I love you!” when she first greets him, is so painfully awkward that it circles back to charming. Rinko, being Rinko, agrees without hesitation, and Pome’s little “Hooray!” is the purest moment of joy in the episode. The show lets that small victory sit for a beat before everything else comes crashing down.
Usaharu-sensei’s Brutal Kindness
The manuscript itself becomes the episode’s centerpiece. Ikeishi, their editor at Monthly Marron, rejects the one-sided love story with a casual cruelty that stings: the main character gives her “the ick,” and one-sided relationships with no romantic payoff are “annoying and gross.” Pome, who modeled the protagonist after himself, takes it personally. “Do I give people the ick? Am I gross?” The question hangs there, and the show doesn’t mock him for it. It just lets the insecurity breathe.
Then Usaharu-sensei sweeps in. He’s been listening from another table, and he grabs the manuscript, reads it, and delivers his verdict: “This is hella lousy.” But Kaneko, his editor from Soirée Publishing, sees something else. She offers to publish the story in their magazine, calling it “really interesting.” The whiplash from rejection to validation is dizzying, and the trio’s stunned reactions—Pome’s “Really?!” and Cogi’s quiet “He said it was interesting”—feel earned.
What follows is a masterclass in tough love. Usaharu doesn’t just insult their work; he tears it apart panel by panel, pointing out pacing problems, weak compositions, unclear dialogue, and missed opportunities for two-page spreads. He calls them “mangy mutts” and says they’re in diapers, unable to even stand on their own. The insults are so over-the-top that they become funny, but the corrections are genuinely sharp. When the trio redraws the pages with his notes, the same content suddenly feels dynamic and alive. Kaneko clarifies that “lousy” doesn’t mean “bad”—it means it can be better. Usaharu’s harshness is a form of respect, and the episode makes that clear without softening his edges. The visual of him in that bright red jacket, blond hair practically glowing, leaning over their manuscript like a judgmental deity, is exactly the image Pome will carry into the next devastating scene.
The Misunderstanding That Breaks Pome
After the high of the revision session, the trio celebrates with pork buns. Cogi inhales his in one bite and immediately regrets it, a tiny gag that keeps the mood light. Then Pome spots Rinko. She’s with someone—a man in a vivid red jacket with blond hair. It’s Usaharu-sensei. From a distance, the angle makes them look like they’re kissing. The show plays the misunderstanding straight: Pome, Hazuki, and Cogi all freeze, and the dialogue confirms their worst assumption. “They’re totally going out!”
The truth is more mundane: they’re just sharing food, comparing a gratin bun to a strawberry milk bun. But then Usaharu asks Rinko to wake him tomorrow morning with a kiss, and her flustered response—“I’ll just rip your blankets off you!”—makes it sound like they’re living together. For Pome, the distinction doesn’t matter. He’s been nursing this crush, using it as fuel for his manga, and now the object of his affection is not just taken, but taken by the very mangaka he just worshipped as a god. “It’s over. It’s all over.” The line is simple, and the episode lets it land without melodrama. Pome’s face in that moment is the definition of pathetic puppy, and it’s genuinely sad.
Hazuki and Cogi’s response is the episode’s most twistedly supportive beat. Instead of comforting him, they double down on the “pathetic puppy” branding. “You’re incredibly pathetic right now!” Hazuki declares, and Cogi agrees he’s at “peak pathetic puppy mode.” Pome protests that this doesn’t make him happy, but the point lands anyway: his pitifulness is his charm. It’s what draws people in, what made Rinko want to encourage him in the first place. The show doesn’t resolve his heartbreak, but it reframes it as something that might, in some absurd way, be a strength. It’s a strange, funny, and oddly warm note to end his arc on.
A Quiet Valentine’s Gesture
The episode’s final stretch shifts back to Rinko, who is making Valentine’s chocolates. She’s already promised Pome a reward, but she also wants to give something to Satsuki-san and Usaharu-sensei. The contrast between her domestic calm and Pome’s turmoil is striking. She crafts Usaneko Club-themed chocolate cookies for Usaharu and super-spicy zombie chocolates for Satsuki, each gift tailored to their personalities. Satsuki accepts with genuine warmth, calling it a pleasant surprise. Usaharu, predictably, frames it as part of her “chef-sistant” duties and a special exception to his no-gifts policy. The scene is sweet and low-key, a reminder that Rinko’s world keeps turning even as Pome’s collapses.
The next episode preview teases “How They All Collapse?!” which, given the current state of overlapping crushes, fake relationships, and now Pome’s broken heart, feels ominously appropriate. The love polygon is getting crowded, and the fragile equilibrium Rinko has been protecting might not hold.
Where This Leaves Pome
Pome’s storyline in this episode does something quietly impressive: it takes a character who could have been a simple comic relief side plot and gives him a moment of real emotional weight. His crush on Rinko was always framed as a long shot, but seeing it crushed by the very person he admires most as a mangaka adds a layer of cruel irony. Usaharu-sensei helped him improve his manuscript, gave him a path toward publication, and then, without knowing it, became the reason Pome wants to give up. The episode doesn’t resolve whether Pome will bounce back or whether Rinko and Usaharu are actually dating. It just leaves him standing there, pathetic and heartbroken, while his friends insist that’s exactly why he’s great. It’s a weird kind of encouragement, but in this show’s logic, it fits perfectly.
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