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This review may contain spoilers
This Show Feels Weird in a Good Way
Our first Japanese Mafia BL and it did not disappoint. This series is haunting, strange, and unforgettable, a story that dives into love, trauma, and redemption with a kind of poetic brutality only Japan can pull off.
Odajima’s past shattered my heart. No child should grow up in a home where love is replaced by violence and silence. His father’s cruelty and his mother’s refusal to protect him created a boy who learned to survive, not to love. When he killed his father, it wasn’t born from hate, it was the only way out. And when his mother asked to die by his hands too, something inside him broke beyond repair. From that moment, Odajima became a man who could take a life but never believe he was worthy of one filled with love.
Then comes Kataoka, his light and his undoing. Odajima was sent to kill him, yet Kataoka became the only one who taught him how to live. Their bond unfolds slowly, through teasing, warmth, and quiet gestures that speak louder than words. When Kataoka talks about marriage, it’s both ridiculous and heartbreakingly sincere, because you can feel that for the first time, Odajima is learning what love might feel like.
And then the title makes perfect sense, A Journey to Kill You. Odajima’s mission is to end Kataoka’s life, but his heart refuses to obey. The man who was never loved has finally found someone who does, and that is the cruelest pain of all, to love the one you were meant to destroy.
This series delivers some unforgettable moments: Kataoka half-dead in a hospital bed, still managing to flirt with a nurse saying, “If I stay here, my wife will get jealous.” I laughed through my tears. And then, that lipstick-on-the-lips-of-a-dead-man scene, shocking, bizarre, yet somehow deeply fitting for a show that constantly blurs the line between madness and devotion. Japanese BL never fails to surprise, and this one proves it again.
What I didn’t like was the inconsistent tone and low-budget feel. The first episode throws you straight into an SA scene that’s brushed off too casually, and it left a sour taste. Some moments, like the dead bird scene, felt random and disconnected from the emotional core. Kataoka’s violent outbursts contrasted oddly with his tender moments, making it hard to understand who he truly was at times.
Still, despite the flaws, A Journey to Kill You is a bold and deeply emotional series. It’s not just about love, it’s about pain, redemption, and finding warmth in a world that taught you only how to bleed. It’s unsettling, poetic, and strangely beautiful.
Ironically, the car scene in Episode 1 was the one everyone hated.
But in the final episode, that same setting became something else entirely, filled with emotion, chemistry, and one of the most beautiful kisses I’ve ever seen.
This is why we watch BLs.
In just six episodes, we witnessed two characters grow, change, and learn to truly see each other.
By the end, every glance, every touch, felt earned, a quiet reminder of how love can blossom even in the shortest journeys.
I even wrote a poem inspired by one of my favorite scenes, it was that powerful and beautifully tragic.
Odajima’s childhood is a wound that never heals,
a small boy trapped in a house where love was slain.
No child should ever bear such sorrow,
to wake beneath the same roof as rage,
where a father’s fists spoke louder than words,
and a mother’s silence hurt more than any blow.
She gave him life, yet turned away from it,
her gaze a cold winter that froze his heart.
His home was no home,
but a battlefield of broken dreams,
where laughter died before it could be born.
When he raised his hand against his father,
it was not hatred that guided him,
it was survival, desperate and trembling.
But fate’s cruelty was not done,
for the woman who should have saved him
begged to die by his hand as well.
In that moment, the last light in his soul went out.
How could a boy like that ever learn
what love is meant to feel like?
Then came Kataoka,
the man Odajima was sent to kill,
yet somehow, the man who taught him to live.
Kataoka’s warmth melted the frost of his years,
his teasing words, his careless laughter,
his gentle talk of marriage,
all small miracles that stitched Odajima’s heart
back together, thread by trembling thread.
But destiny is merciless.
His mission whispered, kill him.
His heart screamed, don’t.
For the man who had never been loved
had finally found someone who did.
And that, perhaps,
is the cruelest agony of all,
to be torn between duty and love.
When danger came, Odajima stood ready
to give his life for Kataoka,
but it was Kataoka who took the bullet instead.
Now he lies in a cold hospital bed,
his breath shallow, his heart fading.
Odajima weeps beside him,
his face shattered with grief,
his voice breaking as he pleads,
“Please don’t die… you are the reason I live.”
There is nothing sadder than this,
a man who spent his life unloved,
who finally found warmth in another’s arms,
only to lose it in the blink of fate.
Odajima’s heart beats now
not for himself,
but for a love slipping away.
And as the monitor hums its sorrowful tune,
the world watches a tragedy unfold,
a boy who never knew love
learning it only through loss.
Odajima’s past shattered my heart. No child should grow up in a home where love is replaced by violence and silence. His father’s cruelty and his mother’s refusal to protect him created a boy who learned to survive, not to love. When he killed his father, it wasn’t born from hate, it was the only way out. And when his mother asked to die by his hands too, something inside him broke beyond repair. From that moment, Odajima became a man who could take a life but never believe he was worthy of one filled with love.
Then comes Kataoka, his light and his undoing. Odajima was sent to kill him, yet Kataoka became the only one who taught him how to live. Their bond unfolds slowly, through teasing, warmth, and quiet gestures that speak louder than words. When Kataoka talks about marriage, it’s both ridiculous and heartbreakingly sincere, because you can feel that for the first time, Odajima is learning what love might feel like.
And then the title makes perfect sense, A Journey to Kill You. Odajima’s mission is to end Kataoka’s life, but his heart refuses to obey. The man who was never loved has finally found someone who does, and that is the cruelest pain of all, to love the one you were meant to destroy.
This series delivers some unforgettable moments: Kataoka half-dead in a hospital bed, still managing to flirt with a nurse saying, “If I stay here, my wife will get jealous.” I laughed through my tears. And then, that lipstick-on-the-lips-of-a-dead-man scene, shocking, bizarre, yet somehow deeply fitting for a show that constantly blurs the line between madness and devotion. Japanese BL never fails to surprise, and this one proves it again.
What I didn’t like was the inconsistent tone and low-budget feel. The first episode throws you straight into an SA scene that’s brushed off too casually, and it left a sour taste. Some moments, like the dead bird scene, felt random and disconnected from the emotional core. Kataoka’s violent outbursts contrasted oddly with his tender moments, making it hard to understand who he truly was at times.
Still, despite the flaws, A Journey to Kill You is a bold and deeply emotional series. It’s not just about love, it’s about pain, redemption, and finding warmth in a world that taught you only how to bleed. It’s unsettling, poetic, and strangely beautiful.
Ironically, the car scene in Episode 1 was the one everyone hated.
But in the final episode, that same setting became something else entirely, filled with emotion, chemistry, and one of the most beautiful kisses I’ve ever seen.
This is why we watch BLs.
In just six episodes, we witnessed two characters grow, change, and learn to truly see each other.
By the end, every glance, every touch, felt earned, a quiet reminder of how love can blossom even in the shortest journeys.
I even wrote a poem inspired by one of my favorite scenes, it was that powerful and beautifully tragic.
Odajima’s childhood is a wound that never heals,
a small boy trapped in a house where love was slain.
No child should ever bear such sorrow,
to wake beneath the same roof as rage,
where a father’s fists spoke louder than words,
and a mother’s silence hurt more than any blow.
She gave him life, yet turned away from it,
her gaze a cold winter that froze his heart.
His home was no home,
but a battlefield of broken dreams,
where laughter died before it could be born.
When he raised his hand against his father,
it was not hatred that guided him,
it was survival, desperate and trembling.
But fate’s cruelty was not done,
for the woman who should have saved him
begged to die by his hand as well.
In that moment, the last light in his soul went out.
How could a boy like that ever learn
what love is meant to feel like?
Then came Kataoka,
the man Odajima was sent to kill,
yet somehow, the man who taught him to live.
Kataoka’s warmth melted the frost of his years,
his teasing words, his careless laughter,
his gentle talk of marriage,
all small miracles that stitched Odajima’s heart
back together, thread by trembling thread.
But destiny is merciless.
His mission whispered, kill him.
His heart screamed, don’t.
For the man who had never been loved
had finally found someone who did.
And that, perhaps,
is the cruelest agony of all,
to be torn between duty and love.
When danger came, Odajima stood ready
to give his life for Kataoka,
but it was Kataoka who took the bullet instead.
Now he lies in a cold hospital bed,
his breath shallow, his heart fading.
Odajima weeps beside him,
his face shattered with grief,
his voice breaking as he pleads,
“Please don’t die… you are the reason I live.”
There is nothing sadder than this,
a man who spent his life unloved,
who finally found warmth in another’s arms,
only to lose it in the blink of fate.
Odajima’s heart beats now
not for himself,
but for a love slipping away.
And as the monitor hums its sorrowful tune,
the world watches a tragedy unfold,
a boy who never knew love
learning it only through loss.
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