I Don't Know How to Love Review
Yu Machio’s I Don’t Know How to Love is a compact campus romance about a guy who thinks he’s immune to attachment—and the underclassman who quietly upends that belief. It’s brisk, funny, and more tender than its noncommittal popular guy meets unflappable good guy premise suggests, landing closer to a character study about rules, boundaries, and what happens when both start to crack.
Yen Press
Plot
Aimi, the most sought-after upperclassman on campus, dates anyone who accepts his single rule: he stays unbound and unbothered—no jealousy, no questions. Kaede, a younger student, agrees without blinking and proceeds to be… fine with everything, even when he witnesses Aimi kissing another.
The lack of reaction rattles Aimi; indifference is supposed to make things easier, yet it only exposes a possessiveness he’s never had to confront. The one-shot follows that wobble—Aimi trying to re-negotiate terms he invented, Kaede’s calm that might not be calm at all—toward an endgame that favors emotional clarity over melodrama.
Characters
Aimi begins as an archetype (sought after, brazen, self-proclaimed “trash”) but gains charm as the story lets him lose control; jealousy doesn’t make him cruel here, just confused and, eventually, sincere. Kaede is the twist: he’s agreeable, yes, but not a doormat; framing his composure as a conscious stance rather than passivity.
The supporting crew is light but effective, especially Aimi’s friends—their reactions serve as a chorus that nudges Aimi toward honesty without derailing the central push-and-pull. Readers might also find pleasure in watching Aimi’s mask slip, with the appeal being that two people are working to learn each other’s language without punishing one another for not being fluent yet.
Art
Machio’s pages keep the focus on faces and posture through clean lines, steady grids, and reaction shots that do more work than splashy layouts. That restraint dovetails with the one-shot’s tonal lane: light, slightly sweet, and character-first. Due to the title’s connective character approach, the art also has the task of keeping the emotional negotiations front and center. Thankfully, that prerequisite feels fully realized here, showing a seamless visual transition that starts with emotional indifference and leads to a full-fledged admission of love.
Themes
It’s a story about how rules and calm get misread. Aimi’s “no jealousy” policy looks like freedom until it shows itself as a shield against being known. Kaede’s composure can scan as indifference, but it’s really a safety strategy. The turn to romance isn’t anti-openness; it’s pro-care—naming what you want so the rules serve the people, not the other way around.
Verdict
Short, charming, and emotionally legible, I Don’t Know How to Love takes a “toxic playboy” setup and massages it into something genuinely affectionate.
