a beautiful lie indeed

Ignatius Bagus.

⭐ 8.75

[ MyAnimeList ]

kousei’s silence

what kousei experiences is real trauma and isn’t symbolic. losing the ability to hear his own playing is a psychological shutdown, almost textbook PTSD response, triggered by the abuse and death of his mother.[^kousei-ptsd]

the anime frames it beautifully and doesn’t exaggerate it. the underwater visuals, the ringing void, the paralysis — all matching the clinical symptoms of tone deafness or acquired amusia, a condition where one loses the ability to process musical tone.

the idea that someone can lose not just their will to play, but their ability to perceive their art, hits deep. kousei’s journey is about regaining that connection, and i appreciate that the series takes its time with it.

kaori’s fragility

kousei calls her “a single petal that drifted into my life”, and that’s exactly what she is — fleeting, vibrant, and impossible to forget.

kaori’s illness is never explicitly named, but her symptoms suggest something degenerative and rare. the likeliest diagnosis is friedreich’s ataxia — early onset, loss of coordination, cardiac complications. it aligns with what we see from her faints, sudden collapses, and declining motor control. the surgery mentioned in the final episodes might’ve been an attempt to implant a pacemaker, but she doesn’t survive.

sure, it could also just be a fictitious illness, a narrative device to create urgency and emotional weight. but the specifics matter less than the impact on kousei and the story, her fragility is a constant reminder of life’s impermanence, and a catalyst for kousei’s growth.

the final duet

as kaori undergoes surgery, kousei plays chopin’s ballade no. 1 in g minor — most likely symbolizing their farewell and final duet. what begins as a performance turns into a dreamlike reunion. kaori joins him onstage, violin in hand, and together they create the duet they always promised.

as she fades, kousei begs her to stay. it’s a goodbye he couldn’t say to his mother — but he says it now, in tears, through the piano. in reality, he finishes the piece alone with tears running down his face, echoing the final farewell to her, just like he did with his mother.

grief doesn’t end, it merely shifts.

the lie in april

the title misleads us — deliberately. for most of the series, it feels like it’s his lie, or maybe a poetic idea. then episode 22 hits.

kaori’s letter reframes everything: “i said i liked watari. that was my lie in april.”

it was always her story too. she knew her time was limited, and lying was the only way to step into kousei’s life without burdening him. she chose to make that spring beautiful, even if it meant pretending.

it’s a memory anchor that reminds kousei to never forget her, to remember the spring where he came back to life.

watari, sidelined but not hollow

kaori writes that watari will move on and forget her. but the show quietly denies that.

he stares at her photo. he holds his phone long after she’s gone. and in the flashback, she’s the one who scolded him, not the other way around. he wasn’t oblivious — he simply played the part she needed him to.

epilogue

kaori doesn’t ask to be remembered forever. she asks to be remembered in april. once a year. when the cherry blossoms fall and the world turns pink again. kousei will hear the music they played. not with sorrow, but with gratitude.

spring will be here soon. the season i met you is almost here. a spring without you will arrive.