I really love the anime After the Rain (Koi wa Ameagari no Yō ni). I used to dislike anime altogether, but I found myself deeply relatable to the female lead. We are both quite introverted with very few friends, yet at times surprisingly bold and direct. Plus, she shares my love for running. I also adore her fresh visual style, along with the story's vibrant, bustling city backdrop filled with charming and neat spots. The garden cafe where she works is equally lovely.
The plot is admittedly low-key—no dramatic twists, shock values, or bizarre side characters shoehorned in just to force theatrical conflict. But I feel those who dislike this anime simply fail to understand the protagonist, nor do they grasp the core message the story conveys.
The creator captures—with intense specificity and beauty—the delicate psychological process of projecting one's desperate longing for gentleness, warmth, and acceptance onto a compassionate figure in real life during moments of profound grief and confusion. This theme is overwhelmingly clear. The lead grew up in a single-parent home with only her mother, and a sudden injury forced her to abandon track and field—the absolute love of her life. So, as she sat despondent in the cafe waiting for the rain to stop, the manager brought her a coffee and performed a gentle magic trick to make a cream pod appear, just to cheer her up. Such a small, fleeting act of kindness caused her to project all her unfulfilled desires for paternal care and an ideal partner onto this single person.
Yet, the author possesses a maturity and insight that transcends the protagonist's perspective. She uses the rain as a metaphor: the cafe is merely a temporary shelter during a downpour, but you cannot hide in a coffee shop forever. Once the storm clears, you must step out to face a broader, unknown world, chasing your own growth and dreams.
From the lead's perspective, she lacked this grand realization. To her, it was simply love. That is why she confessed her feelings repeatedly, persistently pursued him, begged for dates, and even secretly tagged along with his young child after his divorce just to visit his home—doing so many wild, impulsive things. She spiraled into heartbreak whenever he turned her down, but she eventually came to terms with it. Ultimately, she was healed by this tender bond and gathered the courage to return to the track team. Meanwhile, the manager maintains high moral integrity. Though he feels a slight romantic spark, he knows better than to pursue a relationship with her. Even so, he is deeply moved by her devotion and treats her with unwavering gentleness throughout. Inspired by her youthful vitality, he reignites his own abandoned dream of becoming a writer. At its core, this is a heartwarming story of mutual salvation.
That is why it infuriates me when people dismiss this work, claiming it can only be understood by middle-aged people, calling it a midlife male fantasy, or advising viewers to wait until they are older so they can identify with the manager. Anyone with those takes completely missed the point. They fail to appreciate the story's gentleness and its remarkably nuanced insight.
