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Oct 29, 2025
Takopi’s Original Sin – Review (10?/10? I don’t even know.)
I’ve finished it.
Yeah… I’ve actually finished it.
And I’m speechless.
No, not the usual “speechless” that I’ve said before — not that kind of “wow, this was amazing” reaction. This one is different. This one feels like something is missing — but not because the story is incomplete. It ended exactly where it had to. Extending it would’ve ruined it.
It’s just… I feel empty, yet full. Lost, yet strangely satisfied.
It’s hard to explain, bro. Takopi’s Original Sin isn’t something you can “rate.” It’s not an anime you watch and then move on from. It’s something that stays —
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like a stain on your thoughts, something pure and terrifying at the same time. It’s beauty in its most painful form.
I honestly don’t know what to say.
I don’t even know what I feel.
It’s like I’m standing between sadness and peace, anger and acceptance, confusion and understanding — all at once. It’s one of the strangest emotional experiences I’ve ever had with an anime.
Every episode feels wrong in the right way. The first episode? Strange. The last? Just as strange — and yet, everything connects. Everything has a reason. It’s a constant feeling of discomfort, but also truth. It’s heavy — really heavy. It’s one of the darkest critiques of the world I’ve ever seen: about childhood, about family, about how people destroy each other without even realizing it.
It’s about guilt, innocence, and how far we go to feel loved.
It talks about bullying, murder, broken homes, and the emptiness of trying to fix something that’s already shattered.
And what blows my mind the most?
It tells all of this in just six episodes — or in the manga’s case, two volumes.
Two books. That’s all it takes to destroy you and rebuild you in a completely different way.
I’ve never experienced something like this before. Usually, when I finish an anime, I think about “what could’ve happened if…” or “what if they changed this part…” — but not this time. This time, I don’t want to change a single thing. I’m not even capable of thinking about it that way.
I’m just… silent.
Truly silent.
Because Takopi’s Original Sin isn’t meant to be understood. It’s meant to be felt.
And that’s what makes it perfect in its own, twisted, painful way.
It’s perfectly strange. Perfectly wrong. Perfectly right.
I don’t even know if I can rate it. Maybe it’s a 10, maybe it’s something beyond numbers.
All I know is that I’ll never forget it.
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Oct 29, 2025
Erased – Review (9/10)
Erased isn’t a simple story. It’s not a straight line or some predictable plot you can just follow. It’s something that hits deep — something that leaves a mark inside you. Sure, the whole concept is obviously sci-fi and unrealistic. I mean, going back in time to fix the past? That’s pure fiction. But beneath that layer, to me, there’s a powerful message — a psychological critique of the global education system, of how society shapes children and their way of growing up.
It’s executed beautifully. Once the show introduces that underlying critique, it mixes it with moments that feel almost horror-like —
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not in a cheap way, but in a way that builds tension and discomfort, because what you’re watching feels real in emotion. To me, it’s a work of art. It gives you every emotion, raw and honest. It makes you feel how much someone can care — not just about others, but about themselves in a deeper sense: the need to fix something that scarred their life forever.
The protagonist goes back in time to fix what broke him. The first time, he fails. The second time, he almost makes it… and just when things seem right, the consequences hit him all at once. He ends up in a coma for fifteen years. The pain, the struggle, the way he keeps fighting — it’s all pure intensity.
It’s a masterpiece because it brings together everything — thriller, emotion, meaning, suspense — and it does it flawlessly. I actually figured out who the culprit was early on, but it didn’t ruin anything for me. On the contrary, it made the whole experience even stronger. I felt more in it, more connected to the story.
For me, Erased is a 9/10.
And I’ll tell you why it’s not a 10.
For almost the entire anime, I thought it deserved a perfect score. But then came the ending… and I just couldn’t call it perfect. It’s good — solid, well executed, even emotional — but not on the same level as the rest of the show. When something keeps such an incredibly high standard from start to almost the very end, that slight drop in the finale hits harder. It’s not bad — just not the masterpiece ending it could’ve been.
Also, I kinda wanted a small romantic element between him and the girl — Kayo (that’s her name) — something subtle, emotional, not necessarily explicit, but meaningful. I’ve always been drawn to that kind of emotional connection in stories, you know?
Anyway, in the end, Erased is absolutely a must-watch. It’s breathtaking, meaningful, powerful. It keeps you locked in from the first episode to the last, without a single moment of boredom. It’s pure beauty — in story, in emotion, in the message it carries.
Final Rating: 9/10
A near-perfect blend of suspense, heart, and depth — unforgettable in every sense.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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Oct 26, 2025
The Pet Girl of Sakurasou – Review
I’ll just call it Sakurasou, because this masterpiece deserves to be remembered simply.
Right from the start, I want to say it: for me, this anime is a 9 out of 10. It’s an incredible story.
I’ve realized I have a soft spot for 24-episode series like this one. Why? Because shorter 12-episode anime often end up feeling rushed. The story is compressed—some episodes are so full of meaning that you can barely breathe, while others feel a little empty. But when you’ve got 24 episodes, everything breathes more naturally. The story has space to develop, characters have time to grow,
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and emotions have room to sink in.
Now, in Sakurasou, there isn’t a single episode that I’d call boring. There are a few moments where it feels like things slow down a bit, maybe like it’s dragging for a while—but even those scenes have purpose. It’s not an anime you should watch at night, honestly. It’s something to watch in the afternoon, maybe when your mind is heavy or full of thoughts. Because Sakurasou cleanses you.
If you’re feeling down, it calms you.
If you’re feeling good, it amplifies that warmth.
It’s an anime that connects with your state of mind and makes you feel present.
The characters are outstanding. Every single one of them is deeply written and emotionally grounded. They all have this inner strength, this discipline of the soul that makes you want to root for them.
Now, let me say something—I love Horimiya, I really do. But one thing that’s always bothered me about it is how it splits attention between so many couples. Some people like that; I don’t, really. Because sometimes it feels like the main story just vanishes while side couples take over.
In Sakurasou, though, everything is connected. Even when the secondary relationships are explored, they’re still tied to the main duo. You never lose focus. There are moments meant only for the side characters, and moments only for the main ones, but everything feels part of the same heartbeat. That’s what I love.
This anime made me cry, made me feel at peace, and made me think about life. It’s one of those rare shows that manages to make you reflect without forcing you to. It’s a must watch.
Now, why not a 10? Simple—because of those few moments where I felt it dragged just a bit. It’s minor, but it’s there. Still, if I could ignore that, it would easily be a perfect 10.
I don’t think we’ll ever see a second season, but I wish we could. There’s so much left to explore, even after all these years. I’d love to see where the story could go, even just with a few new episodes. Because Sakurasou isn’t just a story—it’s an experience. It’s about moments of growth, about trial and reflection, about facing who you are and who you could become.
It’s not the kind of anime where you wait for something big to happen. It’s the kind of anime where the smallest, quietest moments are the big ones.
And when you think you know what’s coming next, it surprises you—sometimes with the opposite of what you expect, and sometimes with exactly what you didn’t think you’d believe in anymore.
For me, it’s simply beautiful.
9/10 — absolutely recommended.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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Oct 26, 2025
In my opinion, A Sign of Affection is a very special anime. It’s not just a simple romance; it’s something that stands out for how it tells its story and the sensitivity behind it. From a visual standpoint, it’s beautiful—crisp, colorful, and expressive. Even though it’s a 2024 release, it manages to blend a modern, polished style with a soft, emotional touch that perfectly fits the tone of the story.
What struck me most is how strong and consistent the character writing is. Every character feels intentional. When someone acts, there’s a clear reason behind it—driven by emotion, circumstance, or growth—not just because the plot needs
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them to. If a character changes, it’s because life and experience push them toward it, not because the story forces it. That kind of organic development is rare in romance anime, and I really appreciated it.
Now, I’ll be honest—the story isn’t exactly realistic when it comes to romance. In real life, it’s hard to imagine a deaf girl instantly catching the attention of one of the most popular and confident guys at her university. But that’s not what the anime is really about. The realism lies somewhere else—in her life. It shows us what it means to live with a hearing disability: learning sign language, reading lips, struggling to communicate, facing insecurities, fears, and misunderstandings. And through all of this, it invites you to reflect on your own life—on how lucky you are to live without those barriers, and on how much strength it takes to live with them.
At first, I almost compared it to A Silent Voice. But I realized quickly that they are two completely different worlds. A Silent Voice is about guilt, redemption, and the struggle to rebuild a broken life. A Sign of Affection is about connection—the idea that no matter who you are or what limitations you have, if you meet the right person, someone who truly understands you, then you can open up, you can feel complete, you can be loved. That message hit me hard.
It’s a warm, gentle story that speaks to empathy more than romance. It’s not about the drama or the tension; it’s about the quiet beauty of two souls learning to communicate, even when words don’t exist.
I really, really hope it gets a second season. I don’t think it’s been officially announced yet, but the manga still has more to adapt, and it would be a shame if it ended here. There’s so much left to tell, and this world deserves more time to unfold.
For me, A Sign of Affection isn’t just a love story—it’s a reminder that love doesn’t always come from words, but from understanding.
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Sep 3, 2025
It’s a shame that ReLIFE: Kanketsu-hen is only four episodes long. If it had been a full extra season, it would have been absolutely incredible. Still, even with just these four episodes, there’s a lot to say.
First, An. She really grows into her own here. In the main series, she sometimes felt like she was hovering too much in the middle of everything, a little intrusive. But in these episodes, she develops into a genuinely great character. Her true aura comes through—she has presence, depth, and weight. By the end, I was honestly impressed with how well she was handled.
And then, of course, there’s the
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real ending. The fact that Kaizaki and Hishiro finally remember each other in the very last moments, and then it just stops, leaving the rest up to your imagination. I love when anime do that—ending things exactly at the right point, without dragging on or forcing unnecessary closure. It’s powerful, and it leaves the emotional resonance lingering with you.
But at the same time, it’s painful. Because the whole point of ReLIFE is that while Kaizaki will remember everything, everyone else forgets. And that’s brutal. He built a second life in just one year. He created friendships, found love, and lived as if he truly belonged again. And then—gone. For them, he never existed. That hurts, because even if it was only for a short time, what he built was real.
There’s this haunting feeling that remains: the group chats where his name is gone, the photos where he’s missing, the memories that vanish. Yet the impact of his presence is still there. His lessons remain inside those people, even if they don’t consciously remember him. They carry forward the growth he gave them, and that’s the subtle beauty of the ending. His existence mattered, even if it was erased.
That’s what makes these four episodes so strong. They don’t just finish the story—they expand it, redefine characters, and give more emotional weight to what came before. An grows. Kaizaki and Hishiro get their bittersweet conclusion. And as a viewer, you’re left with that perfect blend of sadness and fulfillment.
For me, this is another 9 out of 10. If I could, I’d even say 9+ or 9.5, because it elevates the original and gives it the closure it needed without overstaying its welcome. A short but powerful continuation that makes ReLIFE feel complete.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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Sep 3, 2025
I just finished ReLIFE. Literally. I started it last night, and by 3 p.m. today I was done. That’s how much it pulled me in—I couldn’t stop watching. There’s also an OVA, ReLIFE: Kanketsu-hen, with four episodes that wrap up the story. I’ll get to those soon, but for now, I’ll share my thoughts on the main series, and then maybe update later once I’ve seen the continuation.
Here’s the thing: ReLIFE is, for me, a solid 9 out of 10. And that’s important, because a 9 means something different from an 8. When I give an anime an 8, it usually means I liked it,
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I enjoyed it, but it didn’t move me in a special way. A 7 is for shows that are fine but left me halfway unconvinced. A 9, though—that’s when I know an anime hit me in the right place. It made me think, reflect, and feel something beyond simple enjoyment. And ReLIFE definitely did that.
What makes it powerful is how it explores questions that all of us wrestle with at some point. If you had the chance to relive a part of your life, would you make the same mistakes, or would you change your choices? At first glance, it feels like that’s what the anime is asking. But it’s not exactly that. It’s not about actually going back in time and redoing your past. Instead, it’s about being given a second shot in a different way—through an experiment. Arata Kaizaki’s life has fallen apart: his job is a disaster, his senpai has taken her own life, and he has no clear path forward. Then this mysterious organization offers him a pill that allows him to appear ten years younger and live as a high schooler again—not literally rewinding his life, but reliving a new version of it with the knowledge of his past failures.
That twist makes the story so much more than just a “what if.” It becomes a metaphor: you remember everything, but no one else will. And when the experiment ends, you’re left with the lessons, while the people around you lose all memory of you. That’s ReLIFE’s core brilliance—it reminds us that everything in life is fleeting. We don’t get a magic pill to fix our mistakes. We just live, we stumble, and we learn.
Of course, some things are a little unrealistic. Like the fact that nobody ever asks big questions—about university, about what comes next, about how such an experiment could exist. But fine, it’s set in a future-ish setting, and I can accept that for the sake of the story. Outside of those small details, the show feels remarkably real.
The characters are another strength. Almost all of them are well-written, believable, and engaging. I loved how their interactions felt natural and never forced. The one exception for me was An. Honestly, she annoyed me. Too much in the middle of everything, a little exaggerated, and just not as well-balanced as the others. But she’s the only one I’d call out—in general, the cast is fantastic.
And then there’s the twist with Hishiro. Realizing that she, too, took the pill and is also living a ReLIFE was one of those “wow” moments that hit me hard. It puts her and Arata on equal ground, both hiding the same secret, both dealing with the same burden of knowing this life is temporary. That revelation alone makes the series jump to another level, and I’m sure the OVA will dive deeper into their shared reality.
So yeah—ReLIFE is, without a doubt, a standout. It’s not perfect, but it’s thoughtful, emotional, and it makes you reflect on your own life in ways few anime manage to. For me, that’s why it’s a 9/10, maybe even more once I finish the OVAs.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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Sep 2, 2025
I think Golden Time is the anime that has taken me the longest to finish in recent memory. Maybe it’s because it’s 24 episodes instead of the usual 12 or 13 that I’ve been watching lately. It took me about 4–5 days to get through it. And honestly, I don’t feel like I wasted those days, but I can’t say I spent them in the best possible way either.
So, let’s get straight to the point: for me, Golden Time is an 8 out of 10. And why 8? Because it’s original. It’s not your classic high school romance—it’s set in university, which already makes it
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stand out. The premise is also interesting: a protagonist who has lost his memories, trying to rebuild his life, and in the end, despite everything, he remembers again because of how powerful his love for Kouko is. That was beautiful to watch, because it’s the kind of emotional payoff that makes you believe in the strength of connection.
The characters are well-developed, and I can say that most of them left an impression. But there are flaws. Take Oka Chinami, for example: she suddenly changes personality in one random episode. It’s not gradual, it doesn’t build in a way that feels natural. It’s more like: one second she’s this person, the next second she’s completely different. Sure, there are explanations afterwards, but it’s not satisfying because it doesn’t feel like a steady 20–40–60–100 progression. It’s like 1–1–1 and then BOOM, 100 all at once. That kind of shift was honestly frustrating for me. Thankfully, it only lasted a couple of episodes before she stabilized again, but still—it threw me off.
Then you’ve got Mitsuo, who’s fine, pretty normal. 2D-kun was a pleasant surprise for me: he’s there, but not constantly forced into the spotlight. And that’s exactly how a character like him should be used. If they had shoved him too much into the center of the story, he would have been unbearable. But instead, he works, because he appears when he needs to, without overstaying his welcome.
The overall story is linear, it moves forward in a straight line, with the right pace. But I still expected more. Why? Because Golden Time carries the label of being from the same creators of Toradora!—which I haven’t seen yet, but I know it’s considered a masterpiece. So when you approach this anime, you can’t help but expect something on that level. And while Golden Time is good, solid, even emotional at times, it doesn’t reach the same heights. My expectations, in that sense, were broken.
On the technical side though, no complaints. For an anime from 2013, the animation quality is great, the art holds up really well, and visually it never feels outdated. Another thing I appreciated is that the story doesn’t only revolve around the main couple. Side characters also have their own mini-stories, relationships, and developments. And while the anime doesn’t always show us how those stories end, that actually worked for me. It’s like the series trusted me as a viewer to imagine their conclusions. They didn’t steal the spotlight from the protagonists, but they added depth to the world, giving me the impression of lives continuing beyond the main narrative. It reminded me a little of what Horimiya does—where even non-protagonists get meaningful arcs—but here it’s done more lightly, without distracting from the main story.
At the end of the day, I’m glad I watched Golden Time. It didn’t blow me away, but it gave me an experience that was both unique and heartfelt. It’s a good anime with moments of brilliance, but also clear flaws that kept it from going higher than an 8 for me. Still, the story of Banri and Kouko is one that will stay with me, because it shows how love can survive even through broken memories and a fractured identity. And that, to me, is worth the time I spent on it.
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Aug 28, 2025
Score: 8/10 (with potential for 9)
I started Bocchi the Rock! yesterday, and today I’ve already finished it. This anime about a girls’ band surprised me in many ways, and I want to be completely honest: for now, I’m giving it an 8 out of 10, with the hope that season two (already announced) will convince me to push that score up to a 9.
Why 8 and not 9? Because while it entertained me, moved me, and made me reflect, I still feel it hasn’t fully expressed its potential. The story evolves in a straight, precise way, without the messy detours that sink similar shows. There
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are some side moments, but they always tie back intelligently to the main thread. The last episode left me a little disappointed—I was expecting something stronger. But since it’s not a real ending, just the close of the first season, I accepted it with the expectation that the second will pick up from there and go deeper into both the protagonist and the more meaningful themes.
Emotions and “laughter hiding tears”
What struck me most was the series’ ability to balance lightheartedness with melancholy. Bocchi the Rock! makes you laugh, but behind that laughter often lies something very real and painful. I noticed that, without realizing it, I sometimes had tears in my eyes—not because I was actually crying, but because certain scenes about loneliness, social anxiety, and the difficulty of connecting really hit me. And the fact that they were often turned into comedy only made that hidden pain stronger. It’s laughter that hides tears.
Characters and development
The four main characters are very well written: each has their own distinct personality, and together they create a harmony that, while not perfect, works beautifully. This makes the band believable and genuinely enjoyable to follow.
That said, I wish some secondary characters had more focus: the adult bassist who helps Bocchi during her first street performance, and the long-haired black-haired girl who works at the live house. Both have huge potential, and I’d love to see it explored more in season two.
Technical aspects and realism
On the technical side, nothing to complain about: great animation, a beautiful art style, consistent with the tone of the series. The story itself, while unusual (I doubt high schoolers in Japan casually form rock bands from scratch), still keeps a realistic imprint that makes it relatable and believable.
Conclusion
Bocchi the Rock! is an anime that mixes fun, slice of life, and reflection, with just enough drama beneath the surface to give it weight without dragging it down. For now, it’s a solid 8, maybe even an 8.5 if I could, because it really struck me. But I’m waiting for season two before I can confidently say: “This is a 9. This is a wonder.”
Reviewer’s Rating: 8
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Aug 28, 2025
I just finished Orange. I haven’t watched the follow-up movie yet—maybe I’ll do it tomorrow—but I feel like I need to write about it right now, while the emotions are still raw. It’s hard to put into words. I could go technical, talk about animation, structure, or pacing… but doing that would strip away what makes this anime truly special. Orange isn’t meant to be “explained.” Orange is meant to be lived.
While watching, more than once I caught myself thinking—without exaggeration—that this might be the best anime I’ve ever seen. Now that I’ve calmed down a bit after finishing, I can admit: maybe it’s not
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the best of all time, but it has undeniably earned a spot in my personal top three. And I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever be able to take it out of there.
Why? Because Orange didn’t just move me. It made me cry. Not like in other shows where my eyes watered without much reason. Here, it was real. Tears welled up, but also fell. I cried because I was sad, because I was moved, because I felt the weight of what was happening. It wasn’t a forced reaction, it was natural, spontaneous, unavoidable. Maybe it’s a kind of defense mechanism, but whatever it is—it’s proof of how deeply this anime touched me.
The character development is excellent. The rises and falls feel organic and right. If I had to nitpick, I’d say two characters in particular—the boy with glasses and the long-haired black-haired girl—felt a bit too anonymous. Not useless, because what little they do matters a lot, but they didn’t get as much space as the others. That said, I can accept it: the story was clearly meant to focus most of its emotional weight on the main protagonists, and I respect that choice.
For me, comparisons are inevitable: Orange is three times Just Because, a hundred times Yume Miru Danshi, and ten times Tsuki ga Kirei. And I liked all three, even Just Because, but none of them hit me like Orange did. Here, when tears came, they meant something. I didn’t ask myself “why did I even cry?”—instead, I thought, “it was right to cry.” That makes all the difference.
The finale is another highlight. The decision to end with a 40-minute episode was perfect. It gives you space to breathe, to process, to say goodbye to the characters properly. Absolutely the right call.
If I have to mention an objective flaw, it’s the art style. I didn’t love it at first, but over time I got used to it, and in the end, it worked in its context. So no, it doesn’t really count as a flaw that lowers the overall experience.
And then there’s Suwa. I have to talk about him, because Suwa is the character who left the deepest mark on me—and also one of the most heartbreaking. In the future, he marries Naho. But when he receives the letter and understands Kakeru’s pain and fate, he makes the bravest, most selfless choice possible: “Even if it means not marrying her, I’ll help Kakeru. I’ll save him, even if I have to sacrifice my own happiness.” That’s an enormous act of love and courage. And it hurt me. Because you see just how much kindness and sacrifice he carries, and you can’t help but think of parallel worlds, of different timelines where things might have gone another way. It’s a reflection that stays with you, long after the credits roll.
At the end of the day, Orange is complete. Emotionally devastating, but also profoundly beautiful. It teaches you to move forward, to take ownership of your choices, but also shows the power of sacrifice and friendship.
I had originally thought about giving it a 9.9/10 because of the art style and the bittersweet feelings about Suwa, but thinking it over, I realize those aren’t flaws at all. They’re part of what makes the anime what it is. And that’s why my final decision is this: 10 out of 10.
Reviewer’s Rating: 10
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Aug 27, 2025
Let’s talk about Tsuki ga Kirei. For me, there’s no need to beat around the bush: it’s a masterpiece of the romance genre. My final score? 9 out of 10, maybe even 9.15 if we want to be precise.
The strength of this anime lies in how it portrays reality. It doesn’t rely on shortcuts, on exaggerated twists, or on unrealistic drama. It shows life as it is—full of difficulties, mistakes, fears, and growth. It’s an anime that reminds you that people make mistakes, and that you need to learn from them in order to move forward. Sometimes you get angry, sometimes you cry, but the
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message is clear: if something truly matters to you, you can’t quit at the first obstacle. You need to stand firm and keep fighting for it.
Emotionally, Tsuki ga Kirei is incredibly powerful. It’s one of those shows that gets under your skin, that hurts and heals at the same time. It made me cry, and it gave me a similar emotional impact to Your Lie in April. Not because of the story itself—here there’s no tragedy, no death—but because of how deeply it resonates with you on the inside.
The only thing that bothered me slightly was the ending: in just ten seconds, it shows the entire future of the protagonists. I get the intention, but I think it would’ve been better to close the middle school arc and leave the possibility of a second season to explore the rest in a more contained way. By revealing everything at once, it removes both the suspense and the curiosity of “what will happen next?”. It doesn’t ruin the work, but it does feel like a limiting choice.
Still, I consider this one of the most realistic anime I’ve ever seen. The two main characters are shy, awkward, barely talking to each other at first, often sitting in silence. And that’s exactly what makes it so authentic: it’s not idealized, it’s not forced—it’s reality, plain and simple.
A show that strikes hard, moves deeply, and stays with you. Final rating: 9/10.
Reviewer’s Rating: 9
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