A voice tells us, “I want to go on living even after my death!” and we see an empty faculty building that seems taken directly from my own memories. The forgotten water bottle under the desk. A glimpse of cafeteria seats under the sun. An open door leading to another open door inside. And ultimately, we land at one of those awkward freshman parties where everyone is sitting around yearning to get to know each other, and conversations are tentative, full of jokes and shy laughter. Enter Kakeru, a young man dragged here by his flatmate Narumi. He just cannot stand this environment, though. Seeing people performing for attention fills him with bitterness. Kakeru, you see, is the son of a single mother who had to rely on various other relatives to raise her son and was barely tolerated by them. As a result, he has learned to read the room and avoid calling attention to himself. But as fate has it, Kakeru and Narumi end up sitting next to Yuuko and Koharu, two girls who are also by themselves. As it turns out, Yuuko is from the “student guides” program, a volunteer who helps other students with disabilities. Because the kind, composed, enthusiastic Koharu happens to be blind. Upon learning that she and Kakeru are together in a class Yuuko isn’t taking, the student guide asks him to help out if the need arises. But Kakeru has spent years avoiding others, and though he sometimes hates himself for being that way when someone needs his help, it’s not an easy thing to change…

I. Am. Blown. Away. Love Unseen is the single most compelling opening episode to an anime romance I’ve seen in literally years. Its naturalistic depiction of university life lets it stand head and shoulders above a thousand all-too-perfect romantic daydreams. There is nothing fanciful or artificial about the way our group of four starts its tentative friendship. I’ve had a million conversations like this, and you probably have too. “I didn’t understand a word the teacher was saying.” “That was hilarious.” “Have you been friends for a long time?” Meanwhile, the interior monologue never stops, and it perfectly nails down the personality of Kakeru. Even better, the show does not sugarcoat darker feelings and situations. There is a moment in which Koharu’s cane falls when the lesson is over. Kakeru hesitates, looks around, then hates himself for his reaction—and even more for the pang of satisfaction he feels thinking that he is the only one who can help her. Because Kakeru is deeply hurt, and you can see it in everything he says and does. And there is nothing artificial about Koharu either. She is refreshingly normal, and her blindness is neither a superpower nor a taboo. Instead, it complicates things. A lot. All in all, I had my eyes glued to the screen, and I found the conclusion extremely moving. For me, this episode ends on a very high note, and I cannot wait to see the rest of the show. It really doesn’t get much better than this.

Love Unseen Beneath the Clear Night Sky can be streamed at Crunchyroll.