Secret Sabunga Notes #04

Fall season! Many shows! Is it a great collection of them? Hell no! I consider this year, especially spring and summer, to have been rather exceptional. And when it comes to films, so is this fall too—if anything, it might be the absolute best part of 2025. I suppose the price to pay is 3 months of fairly rancid television, which doesn’t sound that harsh of a punishment given the upside. Unless something truly unexpected happens, I doubt we’ll get a Sakuga Blog post out of anything this season, but that’s precisely the type of thing we started these more laid back notes; I was going to say more concise but you know what tends to happen. And hey, that means we also have breathing room to finish all the write-ups for previous stuff! There’s some amazing things there!

Anyway, as far as Fall 2025 anime goes, these are the shows that have stood out to me so far:

Yano-kun is a great vibes anime with a flavor similar to Skip & Loafer

Yano-kun’s Ordinary Days, the series direction debut for Shinpei Matsuo, is a show I was preemptively a bit sad about. You see, Yubisaki to Renren was one of the greatest, most thoughtful TV anime adaptations in recent years. When you factor in that it’s a shoujo series and that joseimuke works get a production debuff by default for absolutely-not-sexist-reasons, it felt like kind of a miracle. Yano-kun is a pleasant romcom series that leans in a similar direction, and it happened to land at the same studio, under a director who has worked closely with Yubisaki’s Murano. That made it hard not to wish for something comparably outstanding, which the trailers sure didn't look like. A very nice key visual felt as close to greatness as this was going to get; likely to be watchable, unlikely to reach higher than that.

But you know what? In a quiet, sometimes hard to pinpoint way, it has become a show that’s good enough to leave behind the (unfair) expectations I burdened it with. Matsuo presents the story of a serious (?) class prez crushing for the world’s unluckiest boy in a supremely cozy way. This fits the idea that series like this are about opening up and finding a place to belong, by being a soothing experience you can tune into every week. A pleasant soundtrack, direction that passes as lively but is in no way loud, and beautiful colors make it feel like an uncomplicated Skip & Loafer. Sure, it’s not as poignant as that, but it has a similar vibe captured through artistic sensibilities that also feel familiar.

Its production may not have been as amazing as I’d hoped for, but it’s still very comfortably above your average TV show nowadays. I’ve seen a bunch of well-deserved praise for Toshihisa Kaiya’s animation designs, though I think their supervision is what has truly allowed the drawings to shine; hopefully Ajia-do’s always underrated animation muscle will allow them to maintain this level, which you can’t take for granted in modest productions.

Of all aspects of the aesthetic, I think that Naomi Nakano’s color design (also seen recently in CSM Reze, HikaNatsu, Wistoria, Yubisaki, Slam Dunk…) is what elevates the adaptation the most—another thing it has in common with Skip & Loafer. I’m always reminding people that these roles are highly dependent on the series director’s good taste, but even then, there are individuals so good at it that even somewhat neutral instructions are enough for them to conceptualize something beautiful. Given how pleasant Kusanagi’s backgrounds for the series are, though, I’m strongly inclined to believe that Matsuo’s got good taste. And if you also do, you might want to check this one out.

Digimon Beatbreaks trends in the franchise

Which is not to say that it feels un-Digimon in its themes and tone, but rather, that it’s the first time in quite a while that a Digimon TV series has been decently planned. Its predecessor Ghost Game was very appealing on paper, with a conceptual match so perfect that you have to wonder why they didn’t give it a spin before. Kitaro-like youkai tales, something that Toei staff are very familiar with, are a great way to frame digital creatures that have always had a cryptic, unsettling side to them. As kept happening for this franchise, though, the catastrophically bad production got in the way of its potential. People think those issues only manifest in the form of poor drawings, but especially in the case of a long runner, bad planning completely nerfs ideas at their conception already.

Toei hasn’t fixed all their problems, but they’ve approaches that had been messy before with higher quality standards—which has necessarily meant ampler schedules, because you can’t conjure that quality of out nowhere. At the risk of jinxing it in the long run, I’ll say that for now, Digimon Beatbreak has greatly benefited from that. Its first few episodes have a very respectable floor and high ceiling, which will hopefully not decay too badly as the episodes progress. Its somewhat demanding aesthetic (with aspects like the occasional rim lighting) may prove to be a bit of a challenge, but the team appears to be rather solid. Hiroaki Miyamoto is a very trustworthy series director, and I would highlight character designer Takahiro Kojima as equally interesting young talent. Even on an episode direction level, the show has been rather impressive so far; the emphasis on subjective framing by Yui Komatsu for episode #02 stood out as particularly thoughtful storyboarding.

It would be a shame if that noticeable bump in production values was attached to lesser ideas, but Beatbreak immediately presents an intriguing world. This time, the Digimon are imagined as an anomaly born from omnipresent, personal AI devices known as sapotama. Chances are that, reading the premise, the idea of a society built around AI gadgets sounds scarier than the digital monsters that consume their energy source. That seems to be very much on purpose. Beatbreak’s world is openly classist, showcasing a difference in social standings (middle class students, the protagonist’s lower income household) that are at its most extreme with the existence of an egg-shaped, rich techbro eden. The nonchalant way in which the characters talk about it is unsettling, but given the resistance stylings of the group where the protagonist has ended up, it’s hard to imagine that they won’t oppose the system at some point. How much (and how coherently) they do that may dictate how good Beatbreak is in the end. For now, it’s an interesting show with an amazing gremlin lizard.

I have a complicated relationship with Chiramune, but its adaptation is as good as I’d hoped

You can sum up GaGaGa Bunko as the imprint where unrepentant anime nerds with capital i Ideas lash out. That makes them, on average, more interesting than most light novels you might come across—especially in an era where so many of those are regurgitations of formulaic, grossly unedited webnovels. From Romeo Tanaka’s Humanity Has Declined to Wataru Watari’s Oregairu, the potential of platforming idiosyncratic writers with a vision is clear across all sorts of genres. And yet, since they’re just as committed to embracing their hardcore male otaku mannerisms, their writing can also be prosaic rat poison. You must have built-up resistance to it, and even if you do, certain works are likely to filter you out before you can enjoy that potential upside.

That was me with Chiramune, which I stopped reading twice across the first volume, in separate occasions. Subverting the rancid, tragically common trend of nerd revenge adventures is something I appreciate, and you can quickly notice that the series does indeed have Ideas. But also, experiencing the world through the eyes and brain of its protagonist Saku was exhausting for me. His internal narration anytime he comes across a girl is as tiresome as it is boring, and he’s simply not pleasant to be around. Those are issues that recent GaGaGa hits like Makeine (which never was this bad, to be fair) greatly smoothed out in their transition to anime, so I was hoping for Chiramune to do the same.

And… it has? Relatively? Saku is hardly an excellent protagonist so far, but his worst instincts have been liberally trimmed, and his actions quietly whitewashed. While we may lose some substance in this process, that sounds like a fair price to pay given how repulsive he originally came across as. So far, the real highlight is the reason why people kept an eye on the series: the debut of director Yuji “Mutobe” Tokuno. He recently came up in a write-up about Takopi, since just like its director Ponte, Mutobe is also an ascended sakuga nerd. Similarly, jumping to the other side of the fence didn’t make him renounce his ways as an animation fan. Over the last few years, he has bounced around all sorts of projects and environments, guided by that interest in different types of craft. Learning, building connections.

In just a couple of episodes, Chiramune demonstrates what that amounts to. The premiere in particular is an amazing showcase of the range Mutobe has built up. The avan leans on the flowery prose that’s all about the evocativeness of blue, through shot compositions that already give you a clear read on the characters before you meet them properly. Once the regular episode starts, his storyboards don’t become any less extreme. They can distill a character’s feelings or simply the vibes of adolescence, and the ways he gets around to them showcase that profile of a sakuga otaku who’s collected techniques from studios as far apart as SHAFT and Tatsunoko. Space can be intricate or completely flat, it can have a highly specific meaning or evoke a vague emotion, but you will always feel something and it will always shift.

A technique that stood out in the first episode, and one I wasn’t surprised to see fade away in a second one that he had less control over, was the atmospheric color reflections over character cels. It reminded me of their usage on Violet Evergarden, though rather than a very costly series-wide instruction, it’s an occasional beautification for Chiramune. The idea of blending the physical setting and the characters themselves feels apt for this series, which the author constantly links to his birthplace of Fukui. In that regard, it’s once again reminiscent of its predecessor Makeine; another comparison that it’s bound to lose in, as Kitamura did an exceptionally good job in capturing the specificities of its setting. But hey, the ideas here are good! Mutobe knows what he’s doing!

Hard not to shout out the opening and ending sequences as well, especially when we’re talking about Mutobe. While he had to be introduced to Masaaki Tanaka as the opening director (fresh and yet so familiar), the ending is a direct payback for his participation in Oshi no Ko’s first season. Normally, heading one episode that far back wouldn’t earn you such a fancy return gift, but he’s the type of creator to leave a great impression wherever he goes; and also, he’s likely to have friends somewhere in there already, like Kappe. Nekotomi’s ED is a beautiful embodiment of all that we know she excels at, though also a shift in her tendencies. In that regard, it’s interesting to link the latter to her choice of building the sequence around the protagonist, as she knew the opening would likely be all about the heroines instead. Because of that, we get an unusual level of focus from a wildly imaginative director, who nonetheless leans on the stylistic width Mutobe enables. It’s so good it fuels my hope in the series. Let it not be copium.

A low-profile anime brighter than the hype

A Star Brighter Than the Sun aka Tamahoshi is the latest series by Kazune Kawahara, best known for Ore Monogatari!! Much like its predecessor, Tamahoshi also features someone who’s ever so slightly different from the norm as one of the leads. This time around, it’s protagonist Sae Iwata that doesn’t fit cleanly in the mold of a schoolgirl, just by being a bit taller than her peers. While she doesn’t suffer outright bullying, the occasional teasing and her own complex make her feel inadequate—especially around her crush, whom she fell in love with way before he grew up to be a popular hunk. Growing a larger, accepting circle of quirky friends and gaining confidence to tackle her romantic pursuit is what this cute series seems to be all about.

A solid premise by a proven author, then? What’s there not to like? For example, the fact that Studio KAI is extremely overworked; a company of their size has no business having a handful of ongoing projects, especially given how ambitious some of them are. With that accumulation of shows, prioritization tends to play a key role as well, and we all know that very rarely favors prospects like a shoujo manga. For no particular reason, I’m sure! It’s just a coincidence that this is a point I’ve had to bring up twice today. In contrast to the Ore Monogatari adaptation led by a titan of the genre like Morio Asaka, Tamahoshi was given to a rookie series director. Someone who’s barely even handled any episodes beforehand.

And you know what? That might have been the best possible choice. Aya Kobayashi wasn’t on my radar at all, but just a few eps of Tamahoshi have been enough for me to start keeping tabs on her. If you give the show a chance, you’ll immediately notice that the delivery is extremely playful. It leans on that farcicality of the animation assets that I was so fond of in Kisekoi S2, at a rate so fast that the next playful cut will arrive when you're still thinking about another. It’s constantly playing layering tricks as means of shot transition, or simply to match events with reactions. The sheer stylistic diversity makes all the reactions quite fun, and the typography is rather quirky as well. Especially in the episodes directed by Kobayashi, the show attempts to do so many things that its visual execution is occasionally a bit off… but that doesn’t stop it from being a very entertaining experience. And mind you, it’s not randomness for its own sake: the way the direction is sometimes so attuned to the character’s feelings makes me believe that Kobayashi has really figured it out.

One additional point worth noting, which I believe is related to that ability of doing less with more, is the production’s links to independent artists. Its gorgeous, fun eyecatches are animated by Doromizu, who has made a bit of an appearance in the show itself. Although you might know them because of the adorable Ballpark ending a while back, most of their work is for catchy, indie music videos on Youtube. The same is true of the team that produced the ending sequence, which reimagines the aesthetic into a fresh, loundraw-esque picture of adolescence. The reliance on artists like them is so systemic and effective that I can’t imagine it being a happy accident.

The show about a violent woman punching nobles delivers on its premise

I’ve mentioned that I’m not a big fan of the villainess trend, since it kinda irks me that it’s built upon a made-up version of a real genre. I’m also not shy about my dislike of Narou writing standards, nor about introducing unidimensional gimmicks to common light novel formulas. At the same time, last year I was a big fan of Tensei Ojisan, so it’s not like I’m not open to amusing exceptions. May I Ask for One Final Thing aka Saihito starts off well by making that subversion of the trope easily likable. I mean, a villainess that sorta lives up to the title by being dreadfully violent, while also being somewhat righteous in the process? Sure, I’ll bite.

If you feel like you’re going insane over isekai tensei slop and its willingness to embrace slavery, you can treat this show as therapeutic. In the first few episodes, Scarlet essentially punches the institution of slavery because their vibes don’t sit well with her (and because she loves the act of punching). As charming of a character as that makes her, I do have some doubts about the show’s lasting power. Compared to the aforementioned Tensei Ojisan, you can notice the lack of depth even in secondary aspects like the mechanics of the world’s magic. At the same time, though, there’s something in me that thinks I’ll never get tired of watching her demolish annoying nobles. This is iyashikei for people who are pissed off.

So far, it helps that it’s as well made as you can hope from a deeply messy studio. Heading the project is ex-KyoAni director Kazuya Sakamoto, who has spent years at Liden Kyoto but is only now getting a full-length TV series at that subsidiary. Eriko Haga, another regular at that branch of the studio, provided sharp, appealing character designs; I feel like the contrast between their refinement versus Scarlet’s violence is one of the major draws.

Even with an increasingly more obvious ceiling to the production, the points of emphasis in the action scenes make it feel like the team understands what’s inherently amusing about the premise. They may not be able to have constantly flowing motion, but the bursts are nice, and above all else they keep the protagonist looking elegant while she unleashes punching hell. They even got a very sleek, Alice-inspired ending sequence (the synchronization of the sound effecs at the start!) by Rika Ota. She tends to focus on theatrical projects nowadays, but the Kyoto bonds run deeper than anything else. Good stuff!

Other things to talk about

• Wandance: Genuinely incomprehensible situation. The friction from a director like Kato isn’t a surprise at all. If anything, that’s a desirable aspect for me. Wild contrast between occasionally painterly BGs, regularly defined 2D cels, and photorealistic 3D environments? It’s like his work in Kizumonogatari but more demented, though of course way rougher in execution as well. Directorial choices like the direct, lengthy incorporation of real music videos? Sure. Even the unorthodox CG dancing is something I could get over. But the catastrophically bad production, with embarrassing levels of rough animation and even the OP immediately fizzling out is something I can’t explain. This level of shoddiness is what you’d expect from a support studio thrust into lead position for a throwaway title, not from a reputable studio’s serious project. It’s not even from Madhouse’s lesser production lines! Did Kato’s weirdness and the circumstances of the project (licensing, mocap, etc) cost so much that everything else got kneecapped?

• Gnosia: This has to be someone’s passion project. A 2 cours adaptation of a well-liked but not massive game being translated into a so far quite solid TV anime? In 2025? Some strings are being pulled here. I think the MVP so far is character designer Arisa Matsuura, who also directed the cool opening as well. The design concepts are quite complex, but she’s rendering them with only reasonable levels of stylization into drawings that feel like they have a lot of volume. And she’s been in charge of nearly every cut so far! Not sure how sustainable that will be, but it’s been good to see. That said, it made me curious enough about a game that I already wanted to give a try that I’ve decided to get on that once I have the time instead. Feels like the type of adaptation where the choices in how to tweak the storytelling could be very interesting, so context in that regard would be needed. That and I want to play the asexual anime amogus.

• SpyFam S3: It’s SpyFam, cmon. Usually don’t have much to say about sequels that have clearly established a pattern, but this one remains pleasant to watch and there’s always the curiosity over the shifting dynamics of the co-production. So far, a great WIT episode and a couple of serviceable CloverWorks ones. It's like S1 never left! And maybe it didn't, because Furuhashi is still somewhat around.

• Imouza: I’m speaking to you, the naïve reader who is thinking “Mikawa Ghost? I loved Gimai Seikatsu, so I should give this a try.” You shouldn’t proceed with caution, because you shouldn’t proceed at all. ImoUza is deeply mediocre, and what makes it even more infuriating is that you can sometimes notice the type of quirky idea that made Gimai Seikatsu appealing even before a demented (words of praise) director approached it. At most, I can recommend watching the opening, which is a shameless summary of a specific slice of online otaku culture. The vtuber who sings the song appearing in the virtual flesh is somehow one of the more reasonable parts of it.

• Shuumatsu Touring: Unfortunate example of how important the aesthetic is for any remotely contemplative, mono no aware type of series. This one has spunk to it so I understand why they’d want a lively palette, but it’s maybe the single worst instance of Nexus’ abrasive compositing—compounded by every preceding artistic choice being just as dubious. I love this type of series but the adaptation filtered me immediately.

• Egao no Taenai Shokuba Desu: Every manga-related-person’s social dysfunction should be able to combine with the others like a giant robot that is most unfit for society. The delivery is on the plainer side, but in this case it does feel like the design choices (simple as they are) align with the appeal of the series. It’s cute! I’ll watch more.

• Towa no Yuugure: Two Masaaki Tanaka OP/ED in one season? Early Christmas!

• SI-VIS: Gave it a try after hearing that it channels macrossian energy, which is correct; even in the color of the character that is clearly doomed. That said, it’s definitely no Macross project when it comes to its production values. That is true of some of the shows I’ve been more effusive about here, but causes a series where the performances are meant to be life-changing experiences to fall kinda flat. If I watch more, it’ll be for the purple gremlin.

• Kimi to Koete Koi ni Naru: Shin Itagaki as co-director! Yay! A nice coat of fur applied to an otherwise standard shoujo romance. Kinda cute, as heavy-handed as it is in the way it denounces fantasy racism. I understand why they went with a style that’s all about detail and idealized beauty; that is what you would associate with a romantic encounter that changes your life. Itagaki is best known for his comedic, low drawing count approaches to animation, but in modern times he’s also given a try to approaches that emphasize the intricacy of drawings and layout construction. Unfortunately, Millepensee isn’t the type of environment that can comfortably withstand that. For every sequence that feels genuinely well-put together, there are a handful that hide jank behind an approximation to the type of aesthetic that is now perceived as high quality. And that’s just the first episode! To avoid being too critical, let me make it clear that even managing this puts it above current anime’s standards, and that there’s always the chance that they understood their scope and remained consistently on this alright level of delivery. (But also some backgrounds clearly use AI finishing and they look like poop from the butt.)

• Watashi wo Tabetai, Hitodenashi: Deliberate restraint and apathy are different things, and this adaptation leans toward the latter. Likely by design; anything remotely intricate in low profile projects runs the risk of crashing, so I do understand how you end up with a show like this. Made me want to read the manga, so I might do that instead.

• Sanda: I’m so fed up with Science Saru at the moment, especially after they fumbled Dandadan, that I just can’t bring myself to watch a series they also churned out through this system of overproduction and ruthless prioritization. At least until they fully unveil the collaboration between one of my favorites and her pupil, at which point I will begrudgingly return. Don’t get me wrong, I really liked a bunch of people who work alongside the studio, but its management has been exhausting and they get away with it by being attached to critical darlings; even when those are basically the same genre that is looked down upon in other circumstances. Frankly, don’t love the aesthetic of the Sanda anime either (especially not the colors and textures), so no big loss. Masamichi Ishiyama’s animation style bleeding into the series is clearly the main draw, for those who want to give it a try. He rules.

• Uma Musume Cindrella Gray Part 2: Much of its appeal comes from the sheer intensity of the delivery, which this adaptation can no longer muster. Go read it, it’s exciting when done right.