3
How do I even forget this now?
I don’t even know how to describe this drama, it’s uncomfortably, ridiculously, weirdly… good. On paper, the premise should have been an immediate no for me: a 25 year-old teacher, Hijiri, falls for her 15 year-old student, Akira. The age gap, the power dynamic, everything about it screams wrong. And yet… it was gripping.
At first, I thought Akira was around 18 and about to head to university. But then the show hits you with the fact that he’s still in middle school, going into high school ,only 15! while she’s in her first year of teaching. They’re both flawed in such human ways:
Akira isn’t your typical male lead. He’s stubborn, impulsive, persistent, sometimes manipulative, exactly the kind of immature determination you’d expect from a teenager convinced he’s in love.
Hijiri isn’t a saint either. She falls for a minor while still trying to be a responsible teacher, which is a contradiction she can’t reconcile. But somehow, I couldn’t hate her, the writing gives her depth and loneliness that explains (though doesn’t excuse) her choices.
One thing the drama does brilliantly is refuse to let anything slide. This isn’t a fluffy forbidden-romance fantasy where everyone smiles at the end. There are real consequences: the police get involved, Hijiri’s career is on the line, and Akira’s mother--who is NOT a villain, steps in to protect her son. Honestly, from any outside perspective, her anger and distrust are completely justified. If the show wasn’t told mostly from Hijiri’s POV, everyone would probably agree she shouldn’t be teaching minors.
The side characters keep the story grounded: Haraguchi is the mature voice of reason, and Niwa also acts as a moral anchor. They’re like the audience’s conscience, reminding us of the reality beneath the romantic tension.
What makes it so addictive is the mix of bittersweet romantic beats and moral discomfort. There are moments where Akira and Hijiri seem genuinely compatible, moments that make you think “right person, wrong time.” If they had met years later, maybe this could have been a healthy love story. But here, in this time, it’s doomed.
The angst is top-tier. Every emotional high is followed by a gut-punch of reality. The cinematography and soundtrack romanticize fleeting moments, only for the narrative to undercut them with consequences. That constant push and pull keeps you conflicted, torn between wanting them apart for their own good and wanting them to find a way to make it work.
In the end, Meet Me After School doesn’t excuse the taboo, it leans into it, explores it, and shows both the emotional allure and the unavoidable damage. It’s a rare drama that forces you to be both a moral judge and an emotional witness. The result is messy, frustrating, and strangely beautiful.
This is Not for the faint of heart or those looking for a comfortable romance, but if you can handle moral gray zones and bittersweet endings, it’s a haunting watch you won’t forget.
At first, I thought Akira was around 18 and about to head to university. But then the show hits you with the fact that he’s still in middle school, going into high school ,only 15! while she’s in her first year of teaching. They’re both flawed in such human ways:
Akira isn’t your typical male lead. He’s stubborn, impulsive, persistent, sometimes manipulative, exactly the kind of immature determination you’d expect from a teenager convinced he’s in love.
Hijiri isn’t a saint either. She falls for a minor while still trying to be a responsible teacher, which is a contradiction she can’t reconcile. But somehow, I couldn’t hate her, the writing gives her depth and loneliness that explains (though doesn’t excuse) her choices.
One thing the drama does brilliantly is refuse to let anything slide. This isn’t a fluffy forbidden-romance fantasy where everyone smiles at the end. There are real consequences: the police get involved, Hijiri’s career is on the line, and Akira’s mother--who is NOT a villain, steps in to protect her son. Honestly, from any outside perspective, her anger and distrust are completely justified. If the show wasn’t told mostly from Hijiri’s POV, everyone would probably agree she shouldn’t be teaching minors.
The side characters keep the story grounded: Haraguchi is the mature voice of reason, and Niwa also acts as a moral anchor. They’re like the audience’s conscience, reminding us of the reality beneath the romantic tension.
What makes it so addictive is the mix of bittersweet romantic beats and moral discomfort. There are moments where Akira and Hijiri seem genuinely compatible, moments that make you think “right person, wrong time.” If they had met years later, maybe this could have been a healthy love story. But here, in this time, it’s doomed.
The angst is top-tier. Every emotional high is followed by a gut-punch of reality. The cinematography and soundtrack romanticize fleeting moments, only for the narrative to undercut them with consequences. That constant push and pull keeps you conflicted, torn between wanting them apart for their own good and wanting them to find a way to make it work.
In the end, Meet Me After School doesn’t excuse the taboo, it leans into it, explores it, and shows both the emotional allure and the unavoidable damage. It’s a rare drama that forces you to be both a moral judge and an emotional witness. The result is messy, frustrating, and strangely beautiful.
This is Not for the faint of heart or those looking for a comfortable romance, but if you can handle moral gray zones and bittersweet endings, it’s a haunting watch you won’t forget.
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