For everything I like in this volume there are two things that drive me up the wall, which is about par for the course for a series that I feel more like I’m enduring more than enjoying.
Usual beefs. Mizuho has minimal personality and exactly zero agency. This isn’t shojo - it’s an adaptation of an Otome game that doesn’t actually exist. She stumbles from one situation to the next where any one of the guys could easily try something with her (as in, they try something, not that she causes this deliberately, that would imply she does something).
And, you know, these treasured friends of hers are either deciding how she should be acting or just putting the moves on her when she’s most vulnerable. It’s aggravating if you prefer your female leads slightly stronger, which I do.
Kizuki comes off the best, appropriately enough since he’s the lead, yet even he has a moment where Mizuha has gone way, way out of her way to try hard to be the girlfriend she thinks he deserves and he just rebukes her for it. Bonehead.
While they are dating, paradoxically, it makes for some of the best parts of this volume. Mizuha’s always feeling woefully inferior, but Kizuki absolutely adores her and when she does briefly own up to her attraction they’re a surprisingly good pair.
The pool scene, which invokes the spectre and reality of life under COVID, is also a solid bit of catharsis and acknowledgment of the difficulties we all faced, especially those teenagers who had their formative years messed with. When the kids cut loose a bit, it’s a believable moment.
When the story shifts back to the future-present it when it really collapses, unfortunately, which is too bad since that mystery angle has always had potential to be a solid hook.
By this point, however, Mizuho is being passed around like a hot potato as everybody seems like they want to just keep forcing themselves on her emotionally (sometimes physically). Some friends.
And the reason Kizuki checked himself out of the picture is dumb. At least it lets Shin boldly declare he’ll never let Kizuki have Mizuho again, as if she were the TV remote and Kizuki had tuned into The Duck Factory.
Couldn’t just say you wouldn’t let her be hurt again, eh?
There is a fantastic story here. We have seen glimpses of it in previous volumes, in fact, and yet the more we keep going the bigger a letdown I feel. It has a rock-solid premise that is constantly undercut by how it writes its characters. Again, matter of taste, but I think its wasted potential is all over the page.
2.5 stars - I’ll never understand how this managed an anime while many, many other shojo would make for more compelling viewing. And reading. Tolerable at times, even good, but occasionally so grating I could use it to put Parmesan on my spaghetti.
The MFC still feels like such a place holder. She doesn’t feel like a fully fleshed out character that all these men would be so head over heals about to me. The guy friends, they are interesting, they have dynamics with one another and it keeps me interested. They have had 10 years and neither of the other two have been honest with her about their feelings? All these men are garbage.
After a striking single scene a couple volumes ago, we're back to this series' soft-pedaling normal. It feels like it's afraid to do much of anything, including letting its characters leave high school behind, or having any emotional stakes. If a time comes where I'd have to reassess my purchasing habits, this one would be near the top of the cull list. As is, I'm willing to stick it out, as long as it doesn't last too much longer.
binged the series in a couple hours. they definitely feel like they're getting shorter and shorter. but I am enjoying the story and can't wait for the next. I like that we're getting more of their adult lives since I find that more interesting than high school.
I don’t know if there’s another word for this kind of storytelling other than OBNOXIOUS. If you are obsessed with pick-me-girlies, pick up this series~
I LOVE THIS BOOK I HATE THAT IT ENDED ON A FUDGEBALLING CLIFE HANGER THIS IS THE SECOND SEREIES I HAVE READ THAT HAS DONE THIS🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢💢👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿👿🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😒😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠 😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😠😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡
Oh no. This is exactly how you ruin a perfectly good story.
What started as a sweet, heartfelt tale about a group of childhood friends—of unrequited love, of slowly blooming feelings—has taken a turn into something that feels muddled, frustrating, and deeply disappointing. We keep flashing back and forth between past and present, between a time when the characters were close and a present where they’ve drifted apart. The central couple is no longer together, old crushes resurface, and people start acting like it’s brave to finally come forward—but we, the readers, are never actually told what happened. The pieces we get are fragmented, scattered, and worst of all, never from the people directly involved.
Mizuho is caught in a never-ending wave of nostalgia, drowning in feelings without ever being allowed a moment of clarity or true voice. Kizuki, once a sensitive and open character, now seems to have completely lost the ability to speak. Communication has broken down—but not in a meaningful way. Instead of tension building toward resolution, the story veers into chaos: a childhood friend literally punches Kizuki, landing them both in the hospital, and somehow still, no one talks about anything.
The group of friends have become frozen in place, emotionally stuck in childhood crushes that apparently never faded. Really? Not one of them had a second crush in all those years? No growth, no new experiences, no relationships beyond that one person they liked as teens? Statistically, emotionally—realistically—that just doesn’t track.
But perhaps the worst shift is in tone: what once read as protectiveness among close friends now veers into possessiveness. And possessiveness is the stale, toxic sibling of genuine care. It transforms this tender coming-of-age story into a suffocating web of co-dependency, where no one is allowed to change, move on, or grow.
I am so disappointed in this volume. I genuinely hope the author can pull the story back from this direction, because it deserves better. Mizuho and Kizuki deserve better. Give them agency. Let them speak. Let them confront what happened—together. It's not just time for Mizuho to take the lead; it's also time to return Kizuki to the thoughtful, emotionally present person he once was. Because if this story is going to be about love that lasts beyond childhood, it needs to allow space for those we love to change, too.