Ten minutes and thirty-three seconds into Tsuki ga Kirei, I knew I was in love.
It was a wordless moment of such relatable teenage anxiety and bravado and posing. I felt my chest tighten for Koutarou as he switched his drink order from soda to coffee to impress a girl from school who happened to be at the same restaurant with her family. She probably didn't even notice, so absorbed in her own self-consciousness and terrified about what playground gossip would make of it if anyone found out they were there "together".
In its, at times naive, earnestness, Tsuki ga Kirei captures perfectly that sense of helplessness that floods your senses when you're thirteen and find yourself unexpectedly faced with the person you have a crush on.
It was a mild anxiety attack spread over twelve episodes, as I sat on the edge of my seat hoping that these two sweet, terrified and dumb-in-the-way-that-only-love-can-make-you kids would navigate through this emotional minefield to something like happiness on the other side.
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