On screen, the pressure building in Kousei's heart was pouring out—not just through dialogue, but through the music, through the visuals, through the buildup of ten long episodes.
He was still afraid. But he had to play.
And so, when he took the stage… he broke down again.
"He's lowered his head again..."
Kaori's voice seemed to echo in his mind.
Kousei looked up at the audience.
Everyone was watching him.
Then, the soft, gentle, yet deeply sorrowful sound of the piano began.
That same emotionally rich piano tone, layered with flashbacks and inner monologue, gradually pulled the audience deeper and deeper into his emotions.
Ning Ning's eyes had widened at some point, her ears soaking in the music—yet she still found herself physically reacting.
By this point, 'Your Lie in April's live viewership had climbed to 2.65%.
Every time the show entered a music competition arc, ratings would skyrocket.
Even those who hadn't followed earlier episodes—if they happened to land on Jinhui's channel—would stay, captivated by the music alone.
Once again, 'Your Lie in April' began unfolding like a perfect essay.
Kousei's whispered thoughts and emotions, matched with the swelling music, made their way into viewers' hearts.
Kousei on the competition stage.
Kaori is on the operating table.
And at the very same moment, both had the same thought:
"You exist in my heart."
"You exist in my heart."
In the fan groups:
"I'm broken."
"Crying…"
"This damn writer—can he stop making it this emotional?! My nose is running and my eyes are burning."
"That piano piece + this scene = perfection."
"Love doesn't have to be complicated. If it's written with this kind of delicacy, it can move anyone."
"Stop teasing us already! Just end the surgery, let Kousei finish the competition, then run to the hospital and kiss her. If you give us that ending, I'll never roast the writer again!"
Though it was a piano competition, the audience could clearly hear it—this performance was a confession, a musical letter to Kaori, still lying on the operating table.
The story began to drift into a stream-of-consciousness sequence.
To Kousei, the competition had ceased to matter. In his eyes, Kaori appeared beside him, violin in hand, joining his performance.
The piano's sorrow gave way to a brighter, lighter melody.
Ten full minutes of piano performance.
Yet, not only did the ratings not drop—they rose again, hitting 2.73%.
Then, the violinist in Kousei's fantasy began to fade.
Her body turned translucent… and vanished.
His face twisted in sadness, in pain.
"Huh?"
"Wait… what was that?"
"So, was that real or imaginary?"
"Are you telling me that was Kaori's spirit, appearing in his mind one last time?"
"Something feels very off…"
"Don't go!" Kousei cried silently.
The music changed again—echoing the viewers' own confusion and growing dread.
Then came the killer blow.
Kaori, turning back with a smile—her eyes filled only with Kousei—and then… she disappeared into sparkles of light.
Even the densest fan now understood the metaphor.
She was gone.
Kousei's hands froze on the piano keys.
Tears streamed down his face.
He stared into nothing, devastated.
That silent "goodbye" hit every 'Your Lie in April' fan like a brick wall.
Everyone broke.
Kousei's tear-streaked face burned itself into their minds.
This was the screenwriter.
This man was the writer.
He couldn't be human.
He had to be some inhuman creature in disguise!
Ning Ning was numb.
She blinked a few times.
Wait… seriously?
The writer really killed Kaori off?
The next scene confirmed it.
A quiet graveyard.
Kaori's parents stood by her headstone, handing a letter to Kousei.
It was another spring. Another 'Your Lie in April'.
The grave was real.
Kaori was gone.
He actually did it.
He wrote her death in.
This writer's a monster!
The sudden blow left the entire fanbase stunned.
Viewership was soaring, but fan chats across the internet exploded in chaos.
"WHAT the hell?! Kaori died?!"
"Screw this writer—does he have brain damage?!"
"I can't take this. I forced myself to finish the finale, but tomorrow I'm mailing a box of spicy local snacks to Jinhui TV with a death glare attached."
"Why?! Why did she have to die?!"
"A letter? You're giving us a goodbye letter, too? This writer's got issues."
"Did Kaori have to die?! Ten episodes spent building the perfect heroine, only for her to be wiped out in one."
But no matter how much they ranted, not one fan could look away.
Because Kaori's letter hadn't been read yet.
And that letter was everything.
The key to Kaori's motivations, to the title of the show, to the entire story.
Most fans had been ready to rage-quit, to leave angry reviews, to bomb Jinhui's official website.
Kaori may be the perfect female lead,
But this show is a zero.
Because she died.
One-star review, incoming.
This "Jing Yu" guy is dead to me.
Then—her voice came through.
"Dear Kousei,"
It was Yu Youqing's voiceover, reading Kaori's letter aloud.
And in an instant, the fandom went quiet.
Cherry blossoms floated across the screen.
The letter's words unraveled a different truth.
A little girl had once attended a piano concert… and saw a boy play.
He became her inspiration.
He became her light.
She gave up piano, took up violin—all so one day, she could perform beside him.
But then… he stopped playing.
Years later, in high school, she recognized him instantly—but didn't dare approach.
When she realized her time was running out, she made a choice:
"I wanted to hear you play again. Just one more time."
"So I told a lie."
"That I liked Watari."
Ning Ning stared at the screen, eyes blurring.
"So that's what the title means..."
'Your Lie in April'.
From the very start, it had been foreshadowed.
"I've loved you for ten years… but used one whole 'Your Lie in April' to tell you a lie—that I didn't."
"Did I ever live in your heart?"
"Even if just for a moment—will you remember me?"
"Don't reset your memory, okay?"
"Don't forget me."
"Kousei, I love you."
Kaori's letter—her final confession—soothed the fury, but replaced it with a deep, aching sadness.
"So this is what the title meant all along."
"Damn this writer. He planned to make us cry from the start."
"I'm still mad—but now I don't feel like flaming him anymore. This letter made Kaori's story feel even more whole."
"Can't hold it anymore. A grown man, crying with tissues in hand."
"First time a show ever made me cry."
"Kaori is yyds." (eternal goddess)
"Why did she have to die? This pain is unbearable."
"I can't accept this ending!"
The final scene faded out on Kousei and Tsubaki standing across from each other on opposite sides of the street, sharing a quiet, bittersweet smile.
"The spring where I met you has come again.
A spring without you… has come."
Kousei's inner monologue echoed.
The ending theme played, but no fan switched channels.
Their hearts were heavy, but strangely warm.
They were grieving, but deeply moved.
It was complicated.
Kaori's death brought tears, but her story… her love… left an indelible mark.
Correction:
Kaori was the perfect heroine.
And 'Your Lie in April' was a perfect show.
But the writer?
Still not human.
Still the coldest, cruelest writer alive.
By the time the episode ended, 'Your Lie in April's peak live rating had broken 3.02%, with an average rating of 2.81% for the finale.