Retro Replay Review

Gameplay

The first few minutes ask you to settle into Tōma Kikukawa’s head rather than chase a big hook. He is a delinquent summoned to the roof by Miyu, the class representative who normally scolds him, so his confusion when she confesses her feelings is immediate and understandable. That reversal gives the opening a pleasantly uncomfortable energy: you know why Miyu is there, while Tōma is still trying to work out whether he has misunderstood everything.

As a short visual novel, it lives and dies on whether you enjoy reading through a single romantic encounter and sitting with its reactions. The first-person viewpoint is the right fit for that job. You experience Miyu’s advances as Tōma does, filtering every word through a boy who is distinctly unprepared for this conversation. It is a narrow format, but the brevity helps; the game does not ask you to commit to a long school-romance backlog for a small premise.

Miyu’s completely voiced dialogue is the clearest strength. In a story built around what she says and how Tōma receives it, hearing her lines makes the central exchange feel less like bare text on a screen. Go in wanting a compact, character-focused read, not a deep adventure game. If you enjoy an awkward confession stretched into a focused back-and-forth, its less-than-an-hour length can feel like a virtue rather than a limitation.

Graphics

You see the story from Tōma’s point of view, and Miyu is the only character shown visually. That keeps your attention fixed on the girl driving the scene, while other people remain text-only presences. The anime-style character focus suits a visual novel this small and personal.

Story

The setup is familiar on paper—class representative meets delinquent—but it earns its momentum by flipping the expected power dynamic. Miyu begins as the person who has always reprimanded Tōma for getting into trouble, then turns up with a confession. That contrast gives her approach a bit of bite and makes Tōma’s disbelief more entertaining than a standard instant-romance setup would be.

Tōma’s viewpoint is crucial because the game is not simply asking whether Miyu likes him; it is asking how he can possibly respond when the person he thought he knew changes the terms of their relationship. His baffled reactions are the engine of the piece. You are not following a complicated plot so much as watching a single social situation tighten and shift.

The dialogue also implies sexual situations without putting them on screen. That leaves the game rooted in suggestion and conversation rather than explicit visuals, which fits its emphasis on Miyu’s words and Tōma’s response. Its story is slight by design, but it has a clear purpose: deliver one intimate, uneasy, playful encounter and let the two leads carry it.

Overall Experience

Soredemo, Watashi wa Aishiteiru is easy to recommend with a very specific qualifier: you need to be in the mood for a brief visual-novel vignette. It does not have the room to build a broad cast or a sweeping romance, yet it knows its small scale and puts nearly all of its attention on one unexpectedly charged conversation.

The strongest reason to try it is Miyu. With only her visible and fully voiced, she has to hold the scene, and the premise gives her enough contrast with Tōma to do so. Tōma’s confused internal perspective keeps the exchange from becoming a straightforward declaration of affection; his uncertainty is where the comedy and curiosity come from.

For an evening when you want a fast anime romance scenario rather than a long-running visual novel, this is a pleasant fit. Its payoff is modest but focused, and the sub-hour runtime makes it easy to finish without padding. It will not convert anyone who needs elaborate plotting or a fuller ensemble, but it offers a neatly contained bit of romantic awkwardness for fans of dialogue-led stories.

Retro Replay Score

6.1/10