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Since the birth of the written word, we have been taught that storytelling is most effective through drama. Good triumphing over evil, a mystery solved, a pair of lovers.

But there are also stories that choose to convey something a little bit more ordinary– something more human. A story not about the apocalypse, but one focused on a normal person growing up and finding their place in the world. A story where the antagonist is not some cackling lunatic, but a sibling or a friend.

What is interesting about something so mundane? Adachi Mitsuru's "Touch" has the answer.

Uesugi Tatsuya is a lost soul. He wakes up every day only to be shunned by his family and classmates for not comparing to his younger brother, Kazuya. Kazuya is virtually perfect– an ace pitcher for Meisei's baseball club, a top-ranking student, a charismatic personality and source of infatuation for the girls– he is everything that Tatsuya is not. But Tatsuya can't quite resent his brother for it, either. He loves him as a sibling and as a friend. He wants him to succeed. Tatsuya's only wish is to remain himself, and who can blame him?

The one thing that the two share is a mutual affection for Minami. For as long as they can remember, the three have been together as neighbours and as friends. Kazuya's dream is to bring Minami to the Koushien, while their parents have their own goal in mind: for Kazuya and Minami to marry each other in the future. Tatsuya naturally does not like this.

And neither does Minami, it seems. What about her feelings? She has no idea if she actually loves Kazuya or if it's just something that she's just been forced to accept over the years. And what about Tatsuya and her feelings for him? Of course she doesn't want to leave a close friend behind for something that her parents haphazardly decided. Of course she doesn't want to separate the two brothers for something that doesn't need to be. Both of them are equally important to her, even if Tatsuya might tell her otherwise.

So goes the story of Touch. For a while.

Things are eventually victim to change. There is a certain tragedy that follows which completely changes the course of the story. It proves difficult to describe the impact this has without spoiling the most important scene of the anime, but what should be noted is that the first arc of the story is a build-up for everything that comes after. The first 26 episodes function as an extended prologue for a much greater tale.

For most people, "26 episode prologue" will sound off as an instant reason to avoid the anime. Don't. Every piece of dialogue between Tatsuya and Kazuya, every moment of frustration with Tatsuya's or Minami's attitude, every slow-pan over the school courtyard – it all exists for a very specific reason. It is there for the viewer to establish a connection with the characters and the world that they live in. How many times have we had an anime where it throws us deep into the story before we can establish any sort of connection? Far too many. Touch is a slow anime, and it wants you to listen closely.

The story of Touch is ultimately Tatsuya's story. Over the course of a massive 101 episodes, we see him grow from a lazy, bitter child to a determined adult. Determined not only in the sport of baseball, but for Minami and his friends as well. Friends that he never had before. A Minami that loves him as more than just a childhood friend. Even his parents are left wondering how Tatsuya of all people could have made it so far on his own. By the time he's on the mound leading to the Koushien, Tatsuya has surpassed Kazuya.

Where Gurren Lagann turned Simon into a Kamina clone, Touch opts instead for Tatsuya to remain himself to the very end. He matures and changes, but that selfish, lazy person inside of him is still there. It feels natural, never forced, much like any ordinary person might mature over the years. An evolution, but not a 180. Even if his attitude might infuriate you from time to time, that's never a bad thing. Tatsuya makes mistakes and says the wrong thing at times– just as we do. He's flawed like any human being.

Considering Tatsuya's personality, the relationship between him and Minami is naturally slow to develop. This has inevitably drawn some frustration with those seeking steady romantic progression, but I will ask, why does it need to be that way? Why must every romance develop in exactly the same way? The two love each other, of course, but they have also been together since they were small children. It was never the love-at-first-sight phenomenon common in media today. Touch is meant to be realistic more than idealistic.

Adding to the cast is the rival of the two brothers, Nitta Akio. As the power hitter of one of the country's best baseball teams, he is the natural obstacle between the brothers and the Koushien. A rival in love, too, but a friend just the same. He shows us that you can have an antagonist who is also friendly with the protagonist, one that doesn't need to fill the conventional role of an enemy. This friendly rivalry effectively makes the final match at the end of the story all the more rewarding and emotional, witnessing two characters you've grown attached to facing each other off for their last chance at the Koushien. You want Tatsuya to win, but you don't quite want Nitta to lose, either. We don't often find characters like Nitta in anime.

The supporting cast is just as great. Meisei's baseball club is coloured by the presence of the catcher, Kotarou, who has a difficult relationship with Tatsuya. First enemies, and close friends by the end, they slowly open up to each other in a genuinely believable and endearing way. On less-than-great terms is Yoshida, who has a sort of... creepy admiration for Tatsuya, eventually reaching the point where he starts to copy Tatsuya's pitching style. There is also Nishimura, another rival to Tatsuya (though Tatsuya is ever reluctant to care about him), and Nitta's rebellious sister, Yuka, who finds herself drawn to Tatsuya as he starts to become recognised as a pitcher. Initially she seems a bit of a filler character to pull Tatsuya away from Minami, but this is eventually shown not to be the case. Yuka has her own reasons to feel the way she does for Tatsuya, while Tatsuya is never truly interested in anybody but Minami. What Yuka actually ends up revealing is just how much Tatsuya loves Minami.

Perhaps most important, though, is the interim coach, Kashiwaba. He is the sole enemy in the story. As the kind of dude who regularly abuses and overworks the baseball club (his first meeting with the club is by punching Tatsuya), kicks puppies, and chain smokes and drinks in public ... it's kind of natural to hate his guts. But he has his reasons for what he's doing. Maybe not completely justified, but he is a damaged person, once kind and selfless. Through Kashiwaba's backstory (gradually revealed over the course of the anime's second half) he proves to have much more relevance to the overall story than merely existing as a source of conflict. He represents a Tatsuya in a different situation– the person that Tatsuya could have become if things turned out differently. Kashiwaba realises this and relentlessly targets Tatsuya for it, convinced that the person he sees through him is long dead. Though he never fully redeems himself by the end, the moment where Kashiwaba decides to give a helping hand to the team when they need it most is one of the most gratifying scenes I've personally experienced in anime.

The dialogue is also phenomenal, with one of the most powerful moments in the story occurring over a quick cup of coffee. Tatsuya disappears before the start of one of his final matches and Minami finds him sitting carefree in her family's coffee shop, sipping away like nothing is the matter. When she talks to him, Tatsuya reveals that he's there because he's nervous, because he needs to calm himself in a familiar environment. He describes how much he has started to love baseball (something he was forced into only a couple years before) and realises how flawed he is as a person. We realise then just how much Tatsuya has changed. There are times before when, sure, some changes in his personality become evident, but this scene is the moment when it all starts piecing together. His evolution is so human and natural that you wouldn't ordinarily notice it.

Even when the big tragedy occurs earlier on in the show, the characters don't scream and cry. They react with shock, denial, and then with remorse. The emotional impact of the scene comes from empathising with the characters' emotions– not through some sappy music playing in the background. Melodrama is not a part of Touch's itinerary, and it's all the more brilliant for it.

Despite being an anime focused on sports, Touch is easy for anybody to get into. Regardless of whether you're a fan of baseball or somebody who despises it, there isn't a huge focus on the sport itself. Sure, there is the occasional match that will stretch on for several episodes, but it's fundamentally there as a way to develop the characters. There is never any complex baseball terminology to impede your enjoyment (or understanding) of the matches. And thankfully, the obnoxious "spectators in the stands explain every single thing that the players do" cliché is kept to a minimum. The sports genre really, really needs to stop doing that!

Touch is almost 30 years old and still has one of the best soundtracks today. Many of the tracks continued to give me chills even after the third, fifth, and tenth time they played. In particular is Hoshi no Silhouette (Kazuya's theme), motivational on the same level as the Gurren Lagann soundtrack or even the Rocky theme. The openings of Touch also represent a distinct mood of each arc in the story. By the time the depressing second opening kicks in (immediately after the tragedy), it becomes evident that Touch isn't the carefree rom-com that it first seemed to be. The fifth and final opening is also superb, fitting in perfectly with Tatsuya's struggle in the last few episodes, and the credits slowly fading in and out gives the impression that the story has finally reached its climax, soon to end. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that it is my favourite anime opening of all time.

The artwork is fantastic for its time. Even if you aren't particularly drawn to 80's and 90's animation, the age ceases to be noticeable after the first dozen episodes. Adachi Mitsuru's character designs hold up well even to this day (although the background characters can sometimes look identical to each other) and the overall art style steadily matures as the story progresses. A few three-to-five second batting sequences are reused here and there throughout the story, which can be a bit jarring, but to otherwise keep such a high quality for 101 episodes is nothing short of commendable.

It is difficult to review an anime that has changed my life in many ways. How can you critically define emotion? How can you be certain that anybody else will feel the same way? You can't– humans are inconsistent creatures. There are many things that Touch does exceptionally well, but I don't believe that Touch is merely an exceptional anime. It is something more than that. It's a life-affirming, empowering journey that brings the tarnished word "epic" back to its true meaning. Epic not for its length (which is a colossal 101 episodes), its scope, or even its story, but for its ability to show us just how much we can grow.

Whether you admire it from a distance or feel an intense emotional impact, or whether you dislike older stories and adore the new, Touch is the kind of anime that should be experienced by everyone. It is more than a classic. It's an achievement for the anime industry as a whole.

I'm just glad I found an anime like Touch.

Sangatsu no Lion's first five minutes contain a scene I might characterise as one of the best in animation. A boy listlessly wakens, drinking out of necessity, dressing out of obligation, and leaving his sterile apartment out of confusion, an existence so fragile it could perish with the wind. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't tell people about his problems. He just moves on with his life.

At first I did not understand why this scene had such an impact on me. I thought it could have been the beautiful music, or perhaps the captivating artwork so characteristic of Shaft. That wasn't it. What overwhelmed me was how illustrative it was of human life.

People often describe their favourite pieces of fiction with vague terms such as "brilliant" or "life-changing". Sangatsu no Lion is not life-changing, least not in the sense of it developing for me a different personality, or in creating new passions. What it did, rather, is give me the tools to better understand myself and, more importantly, why I am here. And that is the greatest answer of all.

To say that Sangatsu no Lion is powerful would be an understatement. There are numerous moments, much like the opening scene, that do much with little. Most things are left implicit and unsaid. A simple, everyday conversation between family, about what their plans could be for the next day, or a brief conversation about one's quiet hometown can contain more weight and characterisation than a series might in its entire duration. Sangatsu no Lion is as well masterfully-produced, a technical triumph, Shaft's greatest accomplishment.

Sangatsu no Lion is at its surface an anime about shogi, but at its core a coming-of-age story of overcoming depression. Rei, the series' protagonist, is a deeply and inherently flawed being. He is timid - incapable of speaking his mind or getting his feelings across - and unhappy with his role in life. Many characters do not understand why he is this way, and indeed, for someone so gifted at shogi-- enough as to turn it into a career from a young age-- and blessed by such having such a kind family care for him, it is easy to be envious and to question why someone in his position could ever feel unsatisfied. He is still in his teens, after all, so it could merely be an irrational fit of teenage angst. And so they think, and so they patronise him.

There is more to Rei than the people around him give credit for. He never had a real family, nor even a youth, hence why he goes to school in an aimless search of one. He has nothing he can relate to but shogi. Even shogi brings him pain, as his thirst for victory ends only with him driving the loser to disappointment and despair. He needs to feed on other people's happiness to give meaning to his own existence, as without shogi, he will have nothing.

This isn't meant to instil feelings of pity in the viewer. Rei's problems, while significant and real, aren't much different from what everyone else in his world is dealing with. His eventual mentor, Shimada, struggles with a fear of disappointing others and with a chronic sickness that disrupts his ability to play shogi. Even Hinata, the carefree, younger-sister figure to Rei is dealing with issues of love and an anxiety of growing up. Rei's journey is not just about recognising and facing his own problems, but also in understanding that pain is a normal part of life, and something that everyone deals with. All one can do is to take it with stride.

Rei's eventual breakdown is one of the story's most notable moments. I have read complaints of the scene being too dramatic, or that it took too long for Rei to get there. I feel that was the point. Simply being told "no, you are wrong" does not do anything to help fix a person's issues. Rei has already been told his entire life that he is wrong. It is through being kicked down, made a fool of, and, yes, breaking down completely that humans are able to grow the most. We are resilient creatures, and respond to failure with success. Rei is not meant to be entirely likeable to the viewer. He's just a dude and he has his limits, much like anyone else. He is meant to be human rather than an embodiment of all things cool and attractive, and I suppose it is this distinction that is bothersome to certain viewers.

The scene where Shimada chats with Rei about Yamagata, his hometown, represents a lot of what makes the anime so special. The conversation is only 90 seconds long, and yet it encapsulates Rei's growth as a person. It culminates in his one simple quip back to Shimada, that even something dull is still "something". Rei has by this point become capable of standing his ground and arguing back, and of framing the world more positively. It is easy to not notice these things because Rei's evolution is not sudden or obvious. That is precisely what makes it great, and is why it feels so real. It is only in the small details do we notice change.

Many aspects of Shaft's production are experimental in nature, and that definitely shows through in this case. While some of their other works, such as the Monogatari series, got a bit too focused on style rather than content (to the extent of being pompous or even pretentious, I would argue), the direction and artwork of Sangatsu no Lion is artful and stylish while still managing to keep genuine. The tenth episode's shogi match is one of the more prominent examples of this, where a thunderous orchestral piece plays as the two furiously and silently challenge one another. It doesn't require dialogue, as the visual and audio cues do more than enough to demonstrate who is winning and losing, and how much stress they are undergoing. There is even a scene that more closely resembles theatre, with jazzy beats playing while Smith slowly (very, very slowly) eats breakfast. Some may feel this is unnecessary, but I am of the opinion that it provided a wealth of character to someone who we really had not seen or understood much of by that point in the story.

It's a bit remarkable just how reminiscent the anime is of life in Tokyo. I feel that those who have never been here are missing quite a bit, as its depiction does well to make the world the characters live in feel real and relateable. It was actually a bit surreal in my case, as Rei goes to train stations, bridges and other areas that I have personally been to, and visits Sendagi at one point in the series: the quiet little neighbourhood in which I live. He even wears the exact same black coat that I bought at a local Uniqlo some months ago. So, understandably, I think, the anime has been a fairly personal experience for me. It's nothing short of stunning how much effort Shaft has put into making the setting feel like a real place where real people live. It is not a portrayal of Tokyo - it is Tokyo.

The music in Sangatsu no Lion is without doubt some of the best that has been in anime. Most of the more heavy-hitting tracks are used sparingly, often only in one specific scene for a specific purpose, and accomplish said purpose with power and with triumph. In some scenes, such as the Yamagata talk, the first time "Sayonara Bystander" began playing, or the end of the twelfth episode when Rei promises to Momo to win, the music was effective enough to make my eyes water a bit. That isn't a reaction I normally have towards music.

One could argue that there is a bit too much comedy in the anime. And, certainly, if you are looking only for serious storytelling from start to finish, you may end up feeling somewhat alienated by the end. I might have preferred a bit less comedy, too, as the light-hearted scenes, while enjoyable (especially with how adorable Hinata is), are not quite as exciting as all the other pieces. But I can still appreciate its existence, as it would be disingenuous to remove it altogether and to pretend as if there are no happy moments in the characters' lives. Seeing Rei grow to accept the Kawamoto sisters is quite heartwarming, too. They care about him, even if he may not always care about himself, and by the end, they help him to find more meaning in life than shogi.

It's true that Sangatsu no Lion does not have much conclusion. Most of the problems the characters are dealing with are still an ongoing struggle by the end, and Rei is far from becoming a master of shogi as most anime protagonists typically would. Part of this can be attributed to logistical issues, such as a limited production budget and the fact that the manga is still ongoing. I don't think this creates an inherent flaw with the anime, however, as Sangatsu no Lion isn't really in need of an ending. There's no plot with a specific starting point and ending point-- it is rather a moment in time, a piece of Rei's life and those of the people around him. His depression persists, and he remains an imperfect and flawed person, even if he now has friends and family by his side. He's still searching. He's still running. Perhaps that will change by the end of the second season or the manga. Maybe it won't. And that would be completely fine. I don't believe there is anyone, even on their deathbed, who has ever been complete as a person. We start imperfect, and we end imperfect, gradually, yet surely, evolving, unchanging.

With most reviews, I feel compelled to discuss the anime in a mechanical way. "The animation was nice", "the characters were developed well", "the plot was inconsistent". It is because most anime feel crafted, like a specimen of sorts to be examined. How is this piece? How is that piece? Sangatsu no Lion never felt that way for me. It's bigger. It feels more real. And so I can't help but write something more personal, too.

Is Sangatsu no Lion better than Honey & Clover? Maybe. Is it the best anime of the past decade? Perhaps. More than that? Could be. It is difficult right now to answer with complete certainty these questions I have been posing myself. Time is the best judgement, I feel. But I can say, without question or hesitation, that Sangatsu no Lion is the only anime since Touch that has had such a profound and visceral impact on me. And Touch was the best anime I had ever seen.

Sangatsu no Lion is a statement that unhappiness is OK. Being depressed, unsatisfied or stressed does not make you weak - it makes you human. And so I find it appropriate to close with a quote from Hinata:

"So what do you say at a time like this?"

"You say to do your best."