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“To the ones who end up passing, we’ll be counting on you in the future. To the ones who end up failing, turn that failure into strength needed to become a big player, and best everyone around you. Win, and prove us wrong. We, who failed to see how strong you would become, and then return.”
[FUKUDA, Tatsuya. Ao Ashi]

In advance, I apologize to you, reader. This review is definitely huge, even by my wordy standards. However, I ask that you trust me and read until the end. There are some minor spoilers too. I believe you will not regret it.

It was May 2021. There ... I was, innocently wandering the corners of MyAnimeList, when my eyes fell on a piece of news. Ao Ashi, a seinen football manga, had received an announcement of an anime adaptation for 2022. Until then unknown to me, the synopsis of the work and the combination of genres aroused a mix of feelings when I read it for the first time, and, whether for quality expectation or not, Ao Ashi became one of my most anticipated shows for the following year.

I'm Brazilian. Of course, given my nationality, it's to be expected that I have cultural differences from the majority of the community on this site, mainly because there are a lot of people from North America. And one of these differences may be how football is present in our daily lives. Like countries like England and Germany, we Brazilians are victims of an immeasurable passion for football and this sport is ingrained in our culture, just as basketball is popular for Americans. But anyway, why am I writing this? For the same reason as the previous paragraph: justify my expectations. If you are a reader from another country, perhaps the beginning of this review is not so relatable. However, if you are my countryman, it is very likely that the Inazuma Eleven anime is very familiar to you. Ah, childhood... I remember coming home every day, exhausted from school, and turning on the television to watch the nostalgic football anime that was one of my first. Every day, I got emotional watching public television and frantically cheering for Endou Mamoru and his teammates. Several young people in my country did the same. Combining the dubbing with the perfect audience that would see a cultural resonance, Inazuma Eleven became extremely popular in my country. Time passed, those good memories remained, and Inazuma Eleven, even though it is a work very much aimed at children, full of plot armor and nakama power, still resides in my nostalgic memories.

Ao Ashi was a hope. Years after watching (and re-watching) Inazuma Eleven, it was the first soccer anime that appeared before my eyes. When I heard about its adaptation, the first thing that came to my mind was hoping that Production I.G. was the studio in charge. A renowned studio, among the most capable in the entire industry and responsible for successful projects such as Haikyuu!!, Kuroko no Basket, Ballroom and Youkoso and Kaze wa Tsuyoku Fuiteru. If you've ever watched any of these works, you know what their team is capable of delivering in a sports anime. And enormous was my happiness to discover that, in fact, this was the studio responsible. Six months and twenty-four episodes later, the smile is shaky on my face. The joy had turned to disappointment, and the culprit, who I could least have imagined, was the studio itself. However, before diving into the reasons why I find Ao Ashi a disappointment, I'd like to first address what made me smile while watching the work. That is to say, before dumping my criticisms against the team, I need to address the other side of the double-edged sword.

Ao Ashi is the story of a career. More precisely, building a career. Like many of the industry's sports works, Ao Ashi's structure doesn't stray too far from the more orthodox formula of a dreamy protagonist in his innocent sporting ambitions, a particular talent that's unique to him within the cast, and a narrative which is scaled from there. However, the first great merit of this work, I must say, is not in the palette that the author uses, but in the extremely competent portrait that he paints using these colors. Aoi Ashito, our protagonist, is the center of the portrait. Owner of the career in question, he is definitely, by far, the best character in the entire work, and it's all due to the development and maturation that is imprinted on Aoi, both as a player and as a person. At the beginning of the work, Aoi is truly annoying to the audience. An immature young man, a symbol of individualism and a key archetype of what we see in many beginner soccer players, egocentric and fanatical about dribbling, scoring goals and making plastic plays. A cocky teenager who nurtures unshakable self-confidence, but whose talent is barely effective in the face of his ability to lose his temper and put the concept of reading a game into practice. A purely instinctive player, truly promising, but equally lacking in individual and collective tactical vision, relationship skills and judgment.

The list of how we can describe Aoi's shortcomings at the beginning of the story is endless, even if we recognize his potential as a player. And Ao Ashi's portrayal is frightening at first hand for how different Ashito looks at the end of the 24 episodes. He doesn't fully mature, obviously. It would be implausible if this happened in just a few months. However, each grouping of episodes forces him into a different environment, where he is forced to find solutions on his own and add new values to his tactics and relationship. Aoi learns to bond with his teammates and accept them as teammates or even teachers. Aoi swallows his arrogance and starts to observe the tactics of other players in order to improve his own. Aoi faces the challenge of following and interpreting a coach's directions. Aoi understands the value of people who have always supported him in pursuing his career, whether it's his family or Hana, who is now by his side. Most of all, Aoi deals with the drama of not being the center of the spotlight, given his change of position and the catharsis that comes with being moved to a region of the soccer field where he doesn't want to play.

When I watched the end of episode 13, I was truly surprised. Just like Shoyou Hinata had to abdicate Spiker's position in Haikyuu!! in order to be productive for the Karasuno team, Aoi gets a huge shock when he is pulled out of the forward position. While the story partially squanders that decision by returning the lead role and “shirt 10” to Aoi a few episodes later, the challenge the character is put into has a lot to tell us about what happens to many of the players around the world. Sergio Ramos, one of the greatest defenders in football history, played full-back early in his career. Joshua Kimmich, now one of Bayern Munchen's greats names, has recently migrated from right-back to midfield. And, of course, there are players who work in different tactical positions on the field, as is the case of Kevin de Bruyne, David Alaba, Lionel Messi himself and many others. This experimentation by coaches is something extremely common and routine in football, and linked to it is the observation that a good part of professional players has already faced at least one change in career position. Togashi himself, the protagonist's roommate, underwent the same radical change of position. Few of them were as drastic as what happens to Aoi, it's true, but at the core I ask you: how does the athlete deal with it? Not all aspirants are able to accept without hindrance that someone else shapes the vision they fantasized about. Ego fights and ascendancy are common in this regard, and instabilities like Aoi's are even more so. Catharsis humanizes the character, who is forced to mature and relearn football from the beginning. A heavy blow, before which Hana's concern and the presence of Aoi's mother were necessary for the protagonist to get back on track.

Speaking of support, this is another factor represented in a very realistic and competent way in the work. If you, the reader, are familiar with life stories and accounts of football players, I'm sure you've already realized how important the support network is in the career of most professional players. Many of the most renowned in my country gave interviews like this. The first point they always touch on is family or someone close to them who was able to provide support when needed. Marcelo, a Real Madrid idol, quoted his grandfather several times when he told the world about the rise in his career and his aspirations. Gabriel Jesus' mother played a key role in her son's support and his success until he reached stardom, today in the Premier League. For that reason, his celebrations are always simulating the act of calling her.

This is exactly why the family drama in Ao Ashi moves us. Becoming a football player is not something easy as many project and banally mock in the streets under reproduced lines of “make millions in money to chase a ball”. Pursuing this career, like all others, means giving up many things. A large portion of football players do not have complete student education, given the need to embrace the scarce opportunities that appear to them. Living football means being away from the family and letting go of the life he built previously in favor of a regulated diet, regular training and a responsibility towards the institution and his body as an athlete. At the same time, supporting your children in this career means conflicting with the desire to be close to them. That's how Aoi's mother behaves, and that's probably how the relatives of several players feel. Ashito hails from Ehime and is one of the few on the team who can't visit his family on holidays. It's a tough distance away, certainly.

However, giving Aoi the necessary push to pursue her career is also a blind shot. As I mentioned earlier, turning pro in football is all about opportunities. Have you ever heard of the maxim that “in the streets, there are many more talented players than Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo”? Well, that statement makes perfect sense. If we talk about raw, uncut talent, there are probably a multitude of extremely capable people just waiting to be discovered. However, the selection of these players and the opportunity they have is not always fair. Your career only takes off if you take advantage of these opportunities, and sometimes even that doesn't happen. Football is extremely dependent. It depends on the coach who chooses to count on you, when the selection will take place and, above all, on your psychological state. Transplanting this reality to the screens, what guarantee that Aoi will succeed if his family supports him? It is certainly not a certain event. Support from your family is an investment, not a debt.

Young people who risk everything in pursuit of professionalism and pursue a career sooner or later become aware of this, and this is also the genesis of the junior behavior that Togashi observes in EP20. After all, what's more worth it? Results or sports performance? Is it better to focus on winning matches or on acquiring professional prominence? The chance that players have can slip away at any moment, so it must be taken advantage of. If they get promoted, a team's difficulty will no longer be their problem. However, no successful career is built by ignoring the team's unity. The very individualism of wanting professional advancement is an obstacle to teamwork and the acceptance of a collective project.

Pausing to reflect on this situation, in the same line of reasoning, I want to draw attention to Kaneda's illustration. One of the players present in Tokyo Esperion's starting lineup, Kaneda was rejected by Tatsuya Fukuda. Subsequently, he scored several goals in the metropolitan league and increased his physical potential. In this case, it cannot be said that neither Fukuda nor Kaneda were wrong, nor can it crucify either of them. Kaneda just didn't fit into Fukuda's proposed game plans and ideal. However, that doesn't mean that the youngster doesn't have potential or that he's a bad player, just that the phenomenon of managing and building the squad is something more... complex than we imagine. Fukuda is aware that he may have been wrong in his choices, so much so that he himself motivates the rejects to improve according to the quote at the beginning of this review.

To cite examples, Jair Ventura, a Brazilian football coach, had already rejected the Colombian Luís Diaz while coaching Santos F.C, at the time when Diaz was still a promising youngster. Today, Luís Diaz is one of the main players on a world scale and is a regular for Liverpool, while Jair Ventura is not in the best phase of his career. Facts like this don't happen because one side is wrong, just because we're talking about humans. We are adaptable, emotionally manipulable and we fluctuate a lot, even more so when it comes to sports performance and there is the collective variable at play. The essence of the sport and the essence of Ao Ashi is the moral that there are more factors than just individual capacity and the “good vs. bad” when it comes to performance. This is also the driving force behind Kaneda's attitudes later on. People tend to irrationally transfer the blame for their attitudes to those around them, and this constitutes, for psychology, a way of accessing self-deception as an adaptive mechanism. Diluting the blame among those around them allows the person to move on and let go of the stress of having to deal with their mistakes and traumas. Kaneda applies this all the time, and his later success coupled with such a mechanism makes him an arrogant guy with his new teammates. Not that Kaneda is an incredibly deep character or whose work is dense and present. He is not. However, there is a humanized personality trait in this case and, in my opinion, this should be valued.

The last thing I would like to praise here is Ao Ashi's technical depth in the sport. Like any sports work that is worthy of a more realistic and informative atmosphere, a high content of the anime's scenes borrows and applies various tactical concepts, mixing it with the development of the protagonist and the entire Esperion team as a group. I've already mentioned this in some passages previously, but one of the most interesting things about the work is the fact that Aoi, who enters the team's concentration for the first time, is a complete mirror for those who underestimate the presence of tactics in football, given his impulsive temperament. Self-proclaimed genius for his instinctive plays, he reigned in his small world of amateur football, until he discovered that the sport constitutes a much bigger horizon than that. Aoi discovers that he has no individual tactical notion, nor any collective notion. His basic fundamentals are completely backward, and one of the differentiators of this story is the fact that it never treats individual talent as an automatic passport to victory, although it does make a difference in execution. Most of the time, it's simple notions of tactics and positioning that define the outcome of the games, but still the work is realistic enough that even understanding and practicing these basic tactics is difficult. It takes Aoi several days to figure out how to triangulate, then effectively use it with Asari and Kuroda, and just that change completely changes the flow of a game.

With every match or practice, there are concepts being taught and shown to us on the field. Anime migrates from triangulation and begins to teach us the meaning of coverage, filling in spaces, overcoming individual limitations according to the lineup arrangement, verbal and non-verbal communication between players... Even the change of formation according to the answer tactics and the offside line. These are all simple collective tactics, but they make a big difference. At the same time, game reading, decision making, distraction from marking to open spaces, individual marking... All are individual tactics, equally simple, but that value a player. After all, being decisive is far from just scoring goals and providing assists. And, above all, the way Aoi and the other players progress by learning these factors is very competent. See that coaches, as much as they want the evolution of their players, never give the answers for free. Fukuda Tatsuya's philosophy makes perfect sense, as it encourages characters to always keep a critical eye and question their play styles. Thinking for yourself is a fundamental key to getting better every day, as psychology tells us through the concept of “inner critic”.

By leaps and bounds, Aoi becomes a much more focused young man, even though he has to deal with the psychological barriers that surround him as the games go on. Insecurity about ownership, self-criticism and pressure that are established when playing in a position to which they are not used to, frustrated expectations when looking at the team on the table, impulsiveness in the face of provocation... The mind of any professional or aspiring player is never peaceful during a match. It's a bubbling cauldron of emotions, ready to spill over into constant mistakes and affect the performance of an entire team. In this light, the locker room is the point where eleven boiling cauldrons meet after the field.

Football is a group sport, of course, and as such a team's performance is subject to this relationship between players. Hard-to-approach people like Akutsu and players with inflated ego and blind to communication like Aoi is at the beginning of the story tend to affect the balance. Internal conflicts like Togashi's with Kuroda and Takeshima and the bad relationship between Asari and Aoi tend to affect the balance. Individualistic players like Kaneda, who are out of touch with the reality of the group, tend to affect the balance. This is another department where Ao Ashi gets it right, and if you, the reader, are familiar with football, I have a new example to offer you. The current Paris Saint-German squad is filled with sports stars and players who have made a name for themselves. The attacking trio, with Kylian Mbappé, Lionel Messi and Neymar Jr. gives the media a buzz, as well as other world-renowned players hired by a truckload of money. The press loves this pompous and hype-generating environment for people around the world. However, the reality of the team's relationship since the arrival of Neymar and Mbappé has never been a sight to behold. During the first years of PSG's hiring policy, the team was already suffering from constant fights in the locker room and speculation of difficulties in the team's relationship. Today, equipped with athletes with even greater importance, the team has not ceased to be the target of heavy criticism, largely because of the questioning whether it would really be worth investing in stars who so much want to play a leading role in a team and can be harmful to the environment, to the detriment of of more willing players, bets and revelations that would sweat and dedicate themselves to the project on the field.

Well, after spending hourglass cycles writing about what I consider successes and positives, you might be wondering why I have mixed feelings when it comes to Ao Ashi. This means that, in order to fully elucidate my opinion, this is the moment in which I turn to the other side of the blade. If anime is a double-edged sword, we need to talk about why it was such a disappointment to me. In other words, we need to return to the beginning of this review and talk about Production I.G. Let's trigger Revival and go back a little further. We are now in 2014, when the first season of Haikyuu!! it was one of the most popular works of the year and was about to receive the crown of many people as the king of sports works. In 2015 and 2016, the impression was no different, and your volleyball anime has consolidated itself as one of the main names of a studio that was among the “titans” (pardon the pun) of the industry. At the time, I'm not (yet) here to hail Haikyuu!! for its writing qualities or characters, but to analyze why its success is essentially linked to the studio. Why for me, and probably for many of you, it's so good to watch Haikyuu!! from the perspective of production?

The answer in this case is simple and straightforward: through your direction. The identity of volleyball, unlike many other sports, is its frenzy and incessant movement. As long as the ball doesn't fall to the ground, players are always preparing for a new charge or reception. It's all very dynamic. At the same time, Haikyuu!! bears the characteristics of a sports work that aims at verisimilitude, so the animations that move on the screen need to be not only flashy, but also realistic with the movement of the characters, fluid and contribute to the transmission of the tactical notions that Haikyuu!! teaches. And, if not to the general surprise of fans, it delivers exactly what it needs. One of the most exalted qualities when talking about anime is the exorbitant amount of fluid, moving, dynamic scenes, alternating with monologues that invade the characters' minds between passes and decision-making. Why the direction of Haikyuu!! in its first three seasons is it as good? Because, in climactic scenes, we see very solid choices from Susumu Mitsunaka, and because he has a top-notch team to support him.

Who doesn't remember Kyouken stealing Kindaichi's ball for the first time, in an ultra-highlight Sakuga scene that exalts the character's thick contours and puts the spotlight of estrangement on his first appearance? Who could forget, in the same match, the lifting of Oikawa in which he himself, when he got up in despair and ran back to the court, slips on one of the cloths on the edge of the court? I mean, the director even thought about adding this scene, to give more realism to the athletes' movements! Cuts in which the point of view is directly from the ground, showing Kageyama's positioning as a setter, are essential to transplant the organicity of volleyball's movements to anime. Applications of visual metaphors, plentiful in the manga, are put to even greater life in the adaptation, being combined with wonderful soundtrack choices and atmospheric animations, as is when Ushiwaka puts Hinata and Tsukishima under enormous psychological pressure and their veterans break through, one by one, for them to bear it. Metaphors such as the prevalence of crows meeting the great imperial eagle, and the phenomenal use of slow motion to represent fractions of a second before definition, in which multiple thoughts invade the mind... Haikyuu!! is an example of the incredible direction and production that the team at Production I.G. can be proud to deliver in sports anime.

Contrary to the example, Ao Ashi does not have a direction or production equivalent to the power of the studio. On the contrary, I'd say it's their worst visual adaptation of a sports work out of the ones I've watched at the time of writing. The show could have movement and physical explosion scenes. Could apply quick feints in order to add to the visual elucidation of skill and bluffing ability for some of the players. It could even animate shots and passes where there would be a creative point in the camera following the ball rather than the player. In Episode 21, we see a scene where Kuroda performs an organic move in a one-on-one, then steals the ball from Kaneda. The scene itself contributes to the characterization of what it means to individually follow another player and to convey a sense of positioning. It's this kind of scene that I ask for so much in Ao Ashi. However, elaborate sakugas are rare in this anime and, although it is not crooked or ugly most of the time, it leaves something to be desired in many ways when it comes to production.

Jumps to headers are not fully animated, so we have the classic still scenes with camera movement along a single drawing and lines in the scenery to convey the idea of movement. Kaneda and Togashi both score goals like that, and neither of them are truly exciting as they could be. There are cuts in which Aoi retains the ball in defense for a long time, but the movements to protect possession of the ball and those of the opponents are so little diversified that there is no feeling that someone is going to take it from him, only that the scene was excited to stall while Aoi makes the decision to take a long-distance pass. In many of the episodes, in fact, the opponents are static while the Esperion team communicates and adjusts its position. There are scenes where players run in possession of the ball and opponents aren't even drawn moving forward, as well as there are revolting scenes where not even players running in possession are animated by effectively running. If you want a taste, just rewatch the triangulation episode and focus on the scene where Esperion F.C. advance together for the final goal. In the classic split-screen and synchronized set display scene, none of the players run, we just have static images and lines to convey the idea of movement. When we compare it to Karasuno's synchronized attack in Haikyuu!!, this is absurd.

The few scenes that the director and animation team get right in this show are, mostly and ironically, the slow motion scenes and visual metaphors. As the holder of a specific talent - like most protagonists of sports works - Aoi stars in several moments of analysis and game vision in which he incorporates his "crow's vision" and surveys the field like a bird in the sky. In most analysis scenes, there is a double silhouette to convey the idea of movement prediction, lighting to highlight open spaces and a panoramic view that resembles the tactical analysis boards common in football. As much as the production of these scenes is equally weak and nothing much in terms of fluidity, I cannot take away the merit that they were treated with the resources that should, in fact, be applied. After all, the slow motion and the black background very well encapsulate Aoi's decision making in the small fractions of a second and the abstraction of the environment, focusing only on the players' position. It's like in Shingeki no Kyojin: The Final Season Part 2 EP3 from earlier this year: a semi-static or static panning camera work around the chaotic environment in order to elucidate the chronology of seconds between one event and another.

Still, I must say that the director abuses the scenes where he applies slow motion. Outside of Aoi's analysis scenes, there is still a ton of events that unfold over slow motion animations, from the protagonist's movements to communication scenes and kicks. Matches use this feature all the time, when football actually happens very quickly. Even climactic scenes slow down all the time, and this makes it seem more like a valve that the director chose to have the ability to fully animate the work than properly a prudent use of style. Peak scenes totally lack the excitement, and I truly, while appreciating the qualities the anime had to offer, found myself completely uninterested in every goal moment. It may seem like an exaggeration, but I never got carried away.

When I talk about climactic excitement, there are a number of factors. I want to point this out here so you don't get me wrong: An anime can be very well directed and truly thrill at its peaks even if it has few fluid shots. The biggest example I can perhaps bring, in this case, is Ballroom and Youkoso. One of my favorite sports works, Ballroom shares the same studio as Ao Ashi, and as much as there are some viewers who criticize the lack of fluidity in its adaptation, I think it's hard to find people to condemn the work done by the studio and the staff. Ballroom and Youkoso, like Ao Ashi, have a higher density of static scenes. The fundamental difference between the two is how Ballroom handles it and is able to craft wonderfully emotionally impactful scenes. With each episode I watched of Ballroom, I was more impressed with the art direction, which unfolded to compensate for the enormous difficulty of animating fluid scenes due to the demand for elaborate, stylized character design and, mainly, the extremely detailed dresses, that made it impossible to produce a 24-episode show with the same fluidity as Haikyuu!!. Scenes like when Tatara pairs up with Mako or episodes of visual metaphors like the “Four-legged Illusion” were extremely productive. What was lacking in movement in the anime never made me dissatisfied, given the beauty of the scenes that, even though they were stable, managed to capture all the visual details of each dance with angles that favored the grip, the characters' body posture, the facial expressions and the dazzling glow of clothes. The show, to borrow Tatara's words, was twenty-four minute breaks saying "look at me!". And I was always looking.

The art itself contributed to the show's purpose, as exaggerated body extremities are part of the sensation when dancing. The anime was awash with synesthesia in the monologues, the static scenes were precise and framed key moments from the positions, the atmosphere was always present and the fluid moments, although infrequent, were reserved for the most important events. And, behind the atmospheric scenes and the performance in competitions, an efficient use of the soundtrack that crowned the good work of the direction.

When I turn to Ao Ashi, I see that the work has none of that. The goals take place over an uninspired soundtrack that is equally not positioned in such an impactful way. The static scenes are in central events when there should be fluidity in them. The color palette is nothing different. The art not only contributes little to the proposal of the work, but also harms it at times, in the sense that there are completely cartoonish comedy scenes that give a change of brusque and silly tone to a seinen when he should be entirely serious in his departures. Seriously, the first half of the anime is annoying to watch in certain portions, because any event of the match is interrupted by a distorted drawing of Aoi, like when he is teased by Asari and, instead of the work treating the teasing as "trash talk ” and something psychologically important, she puts a completely out of tune drawing for an Aoi who was coming off badly in the match. The impact of this scene was drained, because the director chose to keep it rather than make it more serious. In Ballroom, for example, the comedy scenes exist, but keep the original art instead of changing it to something simplified. In Haikyuu!!, they are not applied in the middle of a play definition or important space, only in events between matches, in communication between players after points or in celebrations.

Dance Dance Danseur, a MAPPA anime of the same season, focused on ballet, has a much more competent direction than Ao Ashi. Watch the EP5 or EP11 of this anime and you'll know why. It's the quick camera changes. The enormous stage presence that urges on the metaphor of Luou playing the role of Rothbarth, menacing, intimidating, imposing and victorious, as an entity that Junpei cannot defeat. Junpei's frantic and elusive depictions, which irritate the rival, are shown with dynamic framing alternating between movements and facial expressions. The vocal acting and the intense soundtrack that blend together. The lighting play on the characters, making the experience sparkle over the princess and graceful ballet movements, but at the same time giving spotlight to the personalities depicted and the added physical exertion in the performance. All this is direction. And all this is what Ao Ashi lacks, to the misfortune of my expectations.

However, if I have so much to criticize the direction of this show, my sadness is even greater when I expose here that, contrary to what it seems, the director is effectively capable of delivering us a superior production. Ao Ashi is an unintentional metalanguage of the direction itself, and this metalanguage can be seen by comparing the storyboard of its two openings. I mean, when I watched the second opening, I was stunned. The storyboard of this is so inspired, so full of movement and populated with symbolic visual metaphors from the show that I could hardly believe it was the same anime. Yes, it's normal for openings to be better animated than the show itself, not least because they apparently pay animators more per take. However, while the first opening is not so bad in my opinion, if we compare it to its successor, the second one is so superior that it makes it seem as if the first one doesn't even exist.

Let's make a brief comparison. In the first, we have a cliché presentation of characters, with quick close-ups of their faces and expressions. We have racing scenes in between the match and training, which add very little in symbology. We have kicking and closing scenes that are static. We have visual metaphors, such as representing the similarity between Aoi and Hana's favorite player. We have other symbology, like Aoi's particular skill, a glimpse of his intuitive family drama through the frame sequence, and an illustration of the heavy atmosphere that descends on him in the match. And we have FOUR different shots with the close-up on Hana, all of them depicting the exact same thing: her cheering and being impressed by Aoi's accomplishments. Note how repetitive and recycled from sports shonens this opening is, even though Ao Ashi is a seinen. In contrast, Ao Ashi's second opening is exactly how the adaptation should be.

The exhausting fatigue of games and training, mixed with more fluid drama scenes that capture well the protagonist's catharsis in the face of his difficulties in starting his own career. Favorable interactions with team members, representing Ashito's learning and the group dynamics in team B, combined with the organic scene transition to, in step with the increase in music, represent the other side of the coin with discussions between the same players. Camera angles and lighting that favor the demonstration of the characters' anguish in dealing with difficult situations associated with football. Aoi, Hana and the look on their faces when Aoi is considering giving up everything. Movement in celebratory actions and the change of music to a more positive tone, while scenes of performances going well appear. Several falls, representing the thorny trajectory of the protagonist in finding himself as an athlete. The return of the opening scene, of the bird soaring over the sea, and the perspective of Aoi's mother looking across the ocean, symbolizing us that the bird represents Aoi and the flight represents the taking off of her career. The long-awaited entry onto the pitch in a stadium. Aoi, through his night training and effort results, changing his expression and accelerating more and more as he crosses paths with other players. And, watching the whole show, me, gaping in my chair, wondering why the second opening evokes more emotions in me than the entire show. After watching so many episodes and venting in this huge text, I finally found the answer. The director did that one and a half minute with the necessary passion that he should have done all the rest of the work. He and the team are truly capable of delivering more than this final product, and I'm sad that this is a realization that didn't materialize on the show.

In addition to the layers of production and staff, there are also a few specific issues I'd like to draw attention to in Ao Ashi's writing. The first of them has a first and last name: Nagisa Akutsu. Honestly, I can't understand why, at the time of writing, he is the most favorite supporting character in the work. All he did in pretty much all of his appearances during the first season was threaten Aoi, bully him, be toxic to team B players, and display a delinquent countenance that reminds me of the cartoonish grin of Tokyo Revengers villains Kisaki Tetta and Shuuji Hanma. I do not disbelieve in the possibility that the author of Ao Ashi has created some backstory or arc reserved for the character that will appear in future seasons. His number of favorites being higher than the other characters may have to do with some character work in the manga. However, taking as a reference only the anime portion at the time of writing this review, Akutsu is one of the shallowest characters in the entire work. Not only that, but he's worse than shallow. He's just a script lever to grab the viewer's attention and make us angry at Aoi's miserable situation, so much so that he always conveniently appears when Aoi deals with his career crisis and the threat of not becoming a player. The author gives free rein to him to intimidate Aoi not only verbally (as is common in the vast majority of sports environments and, if only that, it would be understandable) but also physically, more than once. There should be more Esperion intervention in physical aggression between teammates, but there isn't. All I remember are vague comments from Fukuda during the selection. Which team allows its players to fight and injure each other without any punishment? At this point, Akutsu is more of a character detrimental to the more mature character of football that Ao Ashi wants to pass on than someone who contributes. And while the character may have future work and the author can redeem himself on that, the arc created will likely need to be very well written to make me accept the change in perspective and humanization of the character. The impression he leaves is negative and pessimistic.

The second point I want to address is even more direct: the lack of a portrait of goalkeepers. Unlike Inazuma Eleven, who often turns the match into a duel between goal and shot, Ao Ashi takes the opposite route. It's been 24 episodes and I hardly saw any important goalkeeper saves or any goalkeeper being part of the team as a voice and relevant character. There are very few scenes and we don't even know the archer of Esperion F.C. I miss a player in that position who is important, even because the goalkeeper, symbolically, is the team's security and there is a lot of space to work with a character like that in a football work. For example, goalkeeper is an extremely ungrateful position, as any mistake you make is directly responsible for a goal and can easily cost you a title and your career reputation. René Higuita, the folkloric Colombian goalkeeper, is still remembered today not only for his ability to take free-kicks and the “scorpion blow”, but for his failure in the 1990 World Cup when he lost the ball to Cameroonian Roger Milla. Liverpool's Karius has become highly scarred by his failures in the 2017/18 Champions League final, which cost the English side the title. The goalkeeper is the backbone of the team, but it is also an easy position to be crucified or injured. There are many ways to work one, but Ao Ashi doesn't seem to have reserved a role for such a character, which is a waste. I hope that, in the future, the author decides to address this position more.

Last but not least, the (lack of) importance given to opponents. In Haikyuu!!, for example, as much as the characters of some of the teams faced by Karasuno high school are secondary and obviously not all matches have great planning behind the field preparation, one thing in which the work never fails is to present other volleyball players with their own characteristics, potential and style of play. Haikyuu!! is an anime that, like any story of competitive sports, has its worldbuilding dependent on the number of potential opponents. In this sense, even in matches that are not as important as those against the two-meter high school or against the Wakunan high school, in addition to the main characters, there are secondary characters that are minimally explored and moments in which the spotlight is drawn on strategies and merit of the opponent. Of course, there are matches against bigger opponents, for which there is much greater preparation and the rivals are more richly developed, as is the case with the match against Aoba Johsai. In Ballroom and Youkoso, many of Tatara's adversaries have important backstories and rich metaphors that permeate artistic performances, or else a relationship work with the partner. The spotlight is never solely on Tatara, as his opponents also have great merits and there is a conflict of points of view.

The best example here is the entire Masami Kugimiya arc. The contrast between the veteran's manly, imposing and sometimes exquisite leadership, with his unique but more old-fashioned and conservative dance style, and Tatara's young, inexperienced and passive, conflicted yet playful and evolving leadership. Even on Yuri!!! on Ice, even though most characters are reduced to archetypes with personalities or gags, there is a characterization of the other competitors. Opponents matter, precisely because it is necessary to enhance the performance of each one and add a pinch of psychological influence. Characters boast "sex appeal", while others are obsessed with their sister. There are some who are full of confidence and ego and there are those who are more timid. It's a competition, and somehow we also need to see the humans on the other side, since it's not a Manichean dichotomy, but a performance sports confrontation.

In Ao Ashi, this rarely happens. The only match in which there is a greater build-up of opponents is the match against team Musashino, the last match of the season. If you notice, in the other matches, it's all about Tokyo Esperion F.C. I don't even remember the names of the other teams and their players, and I can count on my fingers the number of faces I would recognize. This isn't because my memory is bad, it's because they don't really matter. Aoi's matches do indeed function as a vehicle for the rise of the team and the characters, but at some point the author seems to have forgotten to reconcile this with the other side's point of view, so that the opponents are just random people and have nothing to offer but responsiveness to tactics. In summary, Ao Ashi was a very mixed and conflicting experience before my eyes. In one of the fields of vision, I see a skeleton of sports seinen with great portrayals of football and pertinent discussions, as well as a protagonist whose character work and development will drag any fan into the whirlpool of history. On the other hand, I see a production and filling of the molds in an insufficient way. A soulless adaptation of an uninspired direction that could have given me more. There are many things to talk about, and it is not my biggest challenge to understand or organize them, but to limit myself so that this text doesn't get even bigger than it already is.

When I close both eyes and then open them, now simultaneously, I see the images blended together. I glimpse Ao Ashi, the anime for which I had high hopes, but which, despite being solid, ended up without fulfilling the main element that so many look for in a sports anime: to excite and attract the spectator's support, in this case me. About recommendations, I'm not sure. Perhaps, for those interested in a soccer-centric story, I would recommend reading the manga rather than watching the anime. After all, after all this outburst and getting off the roller coaster of feelings, I'm considering doing it myself.

“The town was completely empty. There were houses, and lights could be seen from the windows... But nobody was on the streets. I tried peeking in the window. There was someone there, but he was together with ‘it’. I looked in other houses. They all were together with ‘it’. Because it’s fun to be with ‘it’. Because it’s more fun than to be with people. So nobody comes out now. This town is empty. I’m going into a journey. I’m going to another town.”
[Atashi Dake no Hito. “A City With no People”. Chobits]

If a few months ago someone asked me if I'd imagine I ... was writing this review, I would definitely answer no. My past self could barely imagine that someday I would make space on the list to watch a potential Madhouse romance classic, nearly 20 years after its release. And if I were asked if I would imagine my experience as exactly it was, my present self would also answer no. After all, despite the many caveats I'll put into words here, Chobits surprised me with a relatively pertinent discussion for something that started out as just a rom-com embroidered ecchi lace.

Chobits begins as a work exactly like what some of its genres and synopsis sell. Hideki Motosuwa is an 18-year-old boy born in a country town. Unfortunate by his failure in the entrance exam, he decides to migrate to a big city and attend a preparatory course. However, contrary to our common sense of what to expect, the culture clash between the two environments is significantly greater than it would be in a real situation, as Hideki's world is inhabited not just by people, but by robots with whom they coexist. These, of various sizes, shapes and functionalities, here present themselves by another name: “persocoms”. Don't worry, you'll soon learn more about them.

On one of his walks back home, at nightfall, Hideki finds a persocom abandoned on a pile of rubbish. With difficulties, the young man carries the heavy humanoid to his modest house and is able to restart it. However, what appeared to be a common abandoned model, in reality, shows a much greater complexity when you first come into contact with it. Stripped of her old memory and with vestiges of a much more advanced system compared to others, the persocom, now renamed "Chii", her apprenticeship, her relationship with Hideki and her mysterious past become the focal point, and the narrative follows from there.

The initial product is the attempt at an anime centered on comedy and that leaves its Sci-Fi in the background, while the element that occupies the most stage is the romance story filled with sexual jokes, involving moe situations, innocence and its heroine principal that exudes submission. The audience is amused by Chii's lack of knowledge about things and the mistakes she makes while trying to learn. The audience laughs at the protagonist and at the constant sexual situations, whether coincidental or accidentally created by himself. The public thinks the relationship that is built between the main couple is cute, despite the fact that, in this period of history, the pair is not defined as a couple. And I could have fun with this product too, if I didn't find it repetitive, silly and filled with unproductive episodes at times.

One criticism I make of the first half of the show and its ecchi atmosphere in general is that the applied jokes constitute a simplistic and time-saturated formula. The vast majority of gags are based on two main elements: sex jokes involving the protagonist's behavior, through his young adult virgin nature; and jokes with misunderstandings of sexual meanings, involving Chii's innocence and deviations during her apprenticeship.

In the early episodes, this serves the purpose of the characterization. However, the show evidently loses its way of humor as the same joke with porn magazines starts to appear in several of the episodes. Or, when any girl who approaches the protagonist induces the same reaction of sexual fantasy and shame (ok, luckily this behavior improves reasonably as the work progresses). In addition, more artificial situations, created solely and specifically to forge the joke, start to jump out, such as the scene where Chii finds a kitten carrying a handkerchief in its mouth and mistakes it for panties.

Amidst the application of ecchi, I must say that it is not just harmful in the context of repetition. In some cases, it is also an anticlimactic agent, undermining scenes that should have a more symbolic or dramatic weight. In this department, perhaps the most famous example is in the infamous EP24, when there is a reconciliation between Yumi and Ueda. I mean, the formation of a couple and mutual acceptance here are the key points that seek to move the audience and provoke reflection on the central theme of the work (I'll get to it soon). The dialogues and the weight of the lines are purposefully more dramatic, but the climax of the scene is interrupted by the fact that Chii takes off the clothes of Ueda's old persocom and offers it to Yumi, while the protagonist blushes.

In a certain point of view, the first half of the anime is necessary. The focus of the narrative is centered, above all, on Chii's learning and we see the character's development, the ability she acquires to communicate and the concepts she barely understood and that, later, she is able to understand. Unlike the protagonist, who squanders less development here, this portion is indeed important for the heroine. But, on the other hand, I must say that I was disappointed with the amount of scenes and episodes that were not very useful for the plot in general. At moments, I really see the story move forward, like when we get in touch with Kokubunji and Yuzuki's backstory. In others, I find myself bored and want to drop the work, while in front of my face there are beach episodes, scenes of Chii looking for a panty store and episodes of Hideki terrified by an urban horror legend. It's boring, and this last one, in particular, is the one that my humble opinion attributes as the worst of the work.

Perhaps because I complained about the predictable and simple structure that follows the first half, I finally found myself satisfied with the work after its change in theme. That's because, as soon as the specific milestone of Shinbo's revelation hits the plot, Chobits has a shift from its core. The show's spotlight is no longer distributed over Chii and Hideki individually, but rather illuminates the entire stage and brings it all together in a central message that becomes more and more evident. Its greatest merit. Its important message aimed at viewers.

Chobits is a work that evokes a concept that has already been so explored and used, but that has barely deteriorated in terms of relevance. It's as if it were a “tin man”, but it will never rust. Since the human being was conceived as a creator of technologies and holder of the ability to give life to other intelligences, futuristic projections entered the universe of popular imagination and soon spread to paper, where the most diverse authors write fiction. They range from optimistic views that portray the magnitude of electronic resources and their impact on various social spheres, to pessimistic views that choose to point fingers at our own creations as superior and substitute for human beings. I know I'm about twenty years into the future with regard to Chobits, but several works have touched and will touch this theme even being ambivalent in these views, such as Sword Art Online, Psycho-Pass and Koukaku Kidoutai.

Fear of substitution is natural. Everything we create is liable to risk becoming obsolete one day, and the technical-scientific-informational revolution has only accelerated this process even more. As what is around us is always in constant change, it is evident that, at some point, we would ask ourselves if the human being itself would not become obsolete and would be overtaken by evolution. And, as much as its reflections are not philosophical like those in the titles I quoted above, Chobits is right in portraying this uncertainty, projecting a possibility that is not necessarily as romantic as it sounds, nor is it as atrocious as we imagine.

You see this duality from the perspective of relationships. While people are thinking creatures, they are also walking contradictions and beings endowed with defects, free wills, and memories that influence our worldview and reactions. On the other side of the coin, a machine or artificial intelligence is theoretically not bound by these fetters. We can put in any features and paint them according to our own individual palettes. Machines are theoretically rational and data driven, which is why artificial intelligences are often portrayed based on their purposes. That is the essence of a creation.

But at the same time, this limit also removes the layer that exists in human coexistence. Human beings are constantly looking to define themselves by the other, and the presence of another person, someone who is not you, talking to your ego and giving you the uncertainty of how you will react to each word, represents a glamor in social interaction. See? While we are limited, our creations are also limited existences. There are things we can do and things we can't. And there are things that machines can do, but others that only humans can provide, from the most intuitive act of having children to details of the psychological dimension of interaction between a pair.

That's why Chobits' message is impactful. The reality of the work, although fictional and somewhat distant, proposes a reflection based on the illustrations of its characters: what would a reality be like in which a relationship between a human being and a robot is possible? And, going further, on both sides, how would the species psychological deal with loneliness, or with substitution?

Personcoms represent an extremely important extension in this context. Their existence within society opens up the range of possibilities for different situations that would truly happen. For example, the portrait of Ueda and his stable union with Yumi, the persocom, depicts a pertinent illustration of adaptation during this incorporation of robots into society. Not only the development of human feelings for the machine is portrayed, but also the prejudice that society would potentially have, the inexistence of legalization for a stable union, and, mainly, the impact that this experience would have on those around them. Yumi, the human, and her separation-related drama is proof of that.

If that's not enough, why not talk about Takako and Shinbo? The illustration that revolves around Takako's drama is a great example of how this replacement also has a dark side. Like it or not, the naturalization of the machine as an ideal partner is a possible reality in this science fiction. After all, it is much easier to accept the one you created yourself and be sure of how it will react, that it will always be there for you, than it is to love those who essentially have their faults and accept them. And, little by little, this vision being assimilated into society, abandonment and loneliness are indeed side effects, to the point where we are not even more sensitive to others of our species. Just look at the quote I put at the beginning of this review. The scenario created by it says it all.

There are cases where we use this ability to paint our creations for other purposes. Kokubunji, for example, does not necessarily sustain a romantic relationship with his persocom, Yuzuki, but instead draws on the flexibility of technology to immortalize his sister's existence. Here, there's an overwhelmingly optimistic side to the technology, though his obsession with the memories he once lost represents an unhealthy spot. See the pattern, reader? Chobits deals with this theme with some respect, as the reality of persocoms is not seen solely as negative or positive, but rather as a mixture of the two.

Unfortunately, not all characters in the work have relevant illustrations or some more expressive development. In addition to the protagonist, who is often a reason for jokes and whose development is based almost entirely on discovering feelings for Chii and her past, there are others that I would consider shallow in the context of the show. One of the greatest examples is Yoshiyuki Kojima, or, as we know him, "Dragonfly". His role in the work is to kidnap Chii to move the foreshadows of the script, his only motive being his interest in that persocom. He later switches sides and, again, his only job is to support the operation of hacking the mysterious syndicate's database. Without even a backstory, he's a veritable script lever, left and right, that doesn't do much for the message and that is forgettable to probably many of us.

But of course every story has to come to an end. There is no better way to get your message across than to complete it as an expression. Thus, after ten episodes in a second arc relatively superior to the first, Chobits brings together the confluence of its elements in two climactic episodes, in which Hideki finally realizes his feelings and he and Chii confess to each other. And I must say, my sincere apologies to anyone who was moved by this final part, but I believe that CLAMP made some logical slips in it.

Do not misunderstand me. The ending carries a valuable symbology, in fact. Ichirou's paternalism reflects the story that the creator himself and his wife attributed to Chii, keeping the hope that one day she will be able to transcend the tragedy Freya went through and find someone to match her. Ichiro instilled a program in Chii, and this program, at the end of its execution, makes it possible for all the persocoms connected to Chii to acquire, just like her, the capacity to love. In the anime, this isn't extremely clear, but it's interpretive. Persocoms' eyes become realistic for a while, which brings them closer to human features. After all, feelings are the main difference between machines and people, and here their acquisition would bring them closer to us. Dima blushes when Zima hugs her after the program runs, and that attitude is also a hint.

Other symbologies, such as Freya and Chii's lines about the button she has in her vagina can only be touched by “the one just for her”, gain a meaning more than the mere presence of ecchi, and that I need to appreciate. But at the same time, it appears that CLAMP has forgotten some of the sci-fi details that lack more tangible explanation. For example, why are Chii and Freya able to move around by jumping gracefully and seem to glide around town in episodes where Freya takes control of the body? Why do Freya's movements give the impression that she can fly? And why does this happen to Zima and Dima, too? It is assumed that all three are close models of persocom, and this physical ability may be implied, but as this is never formally explained or said, we only need to accept this “physics” during the robots' wanderings.

The factor that perhaps bothered me the most about this ending is the lack of detail in some of the sci-fi elements. Another example that raises this question is the functioning of the Chii program. How exactly can Chii be able to induce other persocoms to deliberately gain the ability to love? At what point did the acquisition of feelings become something transmissible by electromagnetic waves or a dataset that can be sent from persocom to persocom, without cables? As far as I know, the anime convinces us that Chii was able to learn to love due to her set of experiences plus the complexity of her model. So, the application of this program, despite being symbolic, is difficult to digest. It is difficult to accept that, while for Chii love has been a difficult path, for other artificial intelligences this is such an immediate and easy achievement, since the vast majority of them are not even assembled by their owners.

Other solutions the script comes up with, like Chii and Freya's ability to control their cables like telekinetic tentacles (yes, I'm not lying, she literally does that when Dima tries to stop her from running the program) make me question how much of logic was put at the climax of this work. And just like the physics that governs persocoms jumping from pole to pole, I am again forced to just accept and move on.

To be fairer, I must emphasize that these details are not always CLAMP's fault. I haven't read the manga, but in my wanderings around Wikia, I've found that in the source material Chii's program doesn't have this function, but rather represents a darker version of the heroine's journey. Rather than enabling persocoms to be able to love, the program was originally activated not when Chii found her love, but when she didn't. And its effect, originally, was not to create conditions for robots to win love, but rather the opposite, permanently turning off their facial recognition capabilities. This means that, in the original story, if Chii wasn't able to find "the one just for her", Ishiro would assume that none of the other persocoms could do that, and their ability to distinguish humans would forever be erased, dying along with the possibility of falling in love.

This ending makes a lot more sense. Deleting facial recognition functions is a much more tangible achievement to be done through the connection Chii has with other persocoms than transferring data that enables them to conquer their own feelings. It's a simpler solution, but it doesn't bump into the fact that Chii is much more complex than her “sisters”. In addition, it is also more visionary, as Ichiro would leave open to her daughters a future in which persocom models would be more complex and closer to Chii's, and evolution would bring this achievement to them. That said, I believe Madhouse has made an unfortunate choice here, overpriced for moving its viewers, but unfortunately sacrificing the logic the authors stabilized in this part.

Speaking of foreshadowing, I must say that the clues offered to the spectator in Chobits, although a little obvious in some of the moments, are present and relatively competent. The picture books that Chitose writes help us understand the reality of Chii's feelings and make up a “larger interpretation” when connected and related to understanding the end of the work. The phrases in the book are also illustrative of a reality in which behavior such as Ueda's would be morally accepted and disseminated, and this projection only adds to the reflection that the work attracts. Other elements such as character phrases that serve as a prelude to their later backstories, such as Yumi's comments on Chii and persocoms in general, are also welcome and I value them.

Finally, I don't feel comfortable commenting on the production on Chobits, as I can't use the same molds we're currently seeing as a parameter. All I can say is that the art, even dating back twenty years, still plays its role relatively well and is consistent in most paintings. As one of the most influential studios in the industry at that time, Madhouse did a good job in that department if you look at it chronology, and I don't think that's a surprise to anyone, although there's the age shock if, like me, you decide to visit this show in 2022.

The soundtrack is competent, from the calmest songs to the sound design of the most tense and sad moments. Despite this, I personally found some of the director's choices strange, like the one made in the Ueda and Yumi scene during EP24, which denotes expressively calm music for a moment that should have been more dramatic. I add an afterthought about opening as, contrary to popular opinion, I hated the fact that it was so static and so weak in its density of symbolism. Little happens in the storyboard, there is little fluidity and even less symbology. All that happens are changes in position and expression by Chi and Hideki in step with color, pixelation and music. Personally, I found it uninspiring, aside from giving the impression that the show is solely about romance between the two of them when in reality it isn't. As for the ending, although it is close to this archetype, my judgment is lighter. Fluid endings, full of symbologies, image transitions and deeper ones are rare, even more so at that time, so I can't charge much more than the reference made to Chitose's stories.

Watching Chobits, like the message the work tries to convey, was an ambivalent experience. Half of the work is tedious, with some considerations, and the other half is rewarding, with other considerations. Some characters compose valuable illustrations, while others are shallow. Science fiction projects a pertinent universe, but it has its problems of explanation. That's why, at the end of this review, as much as it surprised me for a genre I'm not so interested in, my enjoyment was balanced and I can't rate it any other than as balanced and neutral as possible.

"'The problem lies with your own frailty of resolve that forces simple, easy to understand answers and resolutions on others. This is the main reason the Imaginator is overrunning the world. No matter how long you wait, nothing ever begins.' When I read that, I thought I understood, but now that I found myself in this very situation, I desperately wanted a simple, easy to understand explanation and a happy ending."
[SUEMA, Kazuko. Monologue. Boogiepop Series]

Please, if you are one of the people in the community who spread free hate on Isekai just because they are Isekai, I urge you to read this review carefully.

Isekai Tenseisha ... Koroshi: Cheat Slayer is Homura Kawamoto's newest publication. Perhaps this name is not strange to you, reader, after all, he is famously known for his other work that won an anime adaptation in two seasons, Kakegurui. However, I must say that a possible large number of people who now step on the page of this manga probably do not know him, since the greatest source of popularity of this work is not its author, nor its history. The key behind which many are here is the reputation this one recently gained for being canceled after its one and only chapter. Even though I've watched Kakegurui, I personally fit into this group that heard about Isekai Tenseisha Koroshi for its cancellation and only later came to find out about its author. Like one of those people, I also barely knew about the work and I began to consume its only chapter out of curiosity. So I did and, now that I'm done, I can say I'm completely surprised. Surprised in the sense that an author of such a popular work managed to descend to that level.

The story of Isekai Tenseisha Koroshi is incomplete because of its interruption. All we know so far, briefly, is that in a given fantasy world where the work takes place, there is a group of nine reincarnated heroes. The guild of these nine heroes, "The Insurgents of God", is seen as protective and heroic in that world, fighting the apparent evildoers, the demon lord's troops. The nine reincarnated build a virtuous and immaculate image in front of our protagonist, Lute, who, as often happens with young people in front of their idols, is inspired and also projects themselves in them.

However, Lute's reality changes drastically as he sees his village under attack. On the outskirts of town, he and Lydia, his childhood friend, are taken by surprise and murdered – or at least they would be, but Lute survives. While he doesn't completely lose consciousness, the protagonist peeks out of his eyes and experiences a reality check. In front of him, Lydia, already dead, is raped by one of the reincarnated, while two others look on from afar. The reincarnated heroes that he had so much respect for, in fact, are worthless degenerates who have little respect for any form of life in that world. And so, Lute's thirst for revenge is fed, whereby he will later ally himself with an unknown witch and the story will follow (or would) from there.

Everything this chapter tries to convey, in terms of history, aims to shock the reader and build in him a certain layer of hatred on the nine reincarnated. And yet, I would say it fails in that very department. As this is an incomplete, one-chapter story, I can't demand too much depth on the characters or why they all do their deeds. It would be unfair. However, I find it difficult to cling to the protagonist or truly feel the impact of him having a childhood friend killed and raped in front of him when his reaction is so expressionless.

As he sees the villains' disgusting attitudes, he doesn't believe it and convinces himself that what before his eyes is a dream. This would be understandable, given the strong reference he sustains about reincarnated people and the human being's frequent habit of undertaking self-deception as an adaptive mechanism. He doesn't want to believe this is real. But when he confirms the veracity of what he witnessed, the “fury” and thirst for revenge that guide the character are reduced to empty facial expressions in just a few frames. The magnitude of his feelings is not well emphasized and soon we see Lute thinking about the difficulty it would be to defeat the reincarnated being he a normal person, amidst the expository dialogues of the witch who cured him. I mean, where is the expressiveness of this character? Where is the shriek of pain that would make the reader feel sorry for their miserable situation? All we have for that is his childhood friend's statement, before the sad moment happened, and a few uninspired shots. Do you see what I want to expose here, dear reader? Not only does this single chapter contain almost no substance, it fails in what little it does.

The pacing in this chapter is extremely fast, in my opinion. Reincarnates are barely introduced properly, so the first page and a few frames make up our introduction to them. Most of the characters just make their appearance and have very few lines so far, with the exception of the Shin Walford-inspired character. The protagonist's cathartic moments are quickly replaced by the witch's explanations and derogatory speeches by the nine reincarnated under over-caricature expressions, in an attempt to push hate and more hatred towards these characters down our throats. The protagonist's emotional moments and narrative, or the atmosphere surrounding his friend's rape, are in the background, while the focus shifts at all costs to the attempt to prove “how rotten reincarnates are”.

But, after all, we all know the reason for this lack of commitment to the narrative itself. From the first second we skim the cover, it's already possible to understand why. In Isekai Tenseisha Koroshi, the author is not concerned with telling a story, much less adding substance to it. It's no coincidence that the nine alleged heinous “heroes” have such familiar designs, after all they are nearly identical in appearance to nine protagonists from nine popular works in the anime industry. This is because Isekai Tenseisha Koroshi is an obvious, unhealthy attack on the Isekai phenomenon.

And, beyond an attack, I would consider the work dangerous and hypocritical.

You see, although I like some of the examples in this sub-genre, I wouldn't say I'm a big fan of Isekai. While I appreciate some of them, like Re:Zero, I also have problems with others, like Overlord. Both cited inspire characters that the author of Isekai Tenseisha Koroshi applied as villains in his work. The point is that my opinion about the work is not negative because of favoritism about work "x" or "y", but rather related to the hate speech character that the manga carries and, consequently, how much it feeds this reproduction in the community. Just look at the discussions that have arisen around this story. The vast majority of them do not concern the problems that certain Isekais might sustain such as romanticizing the lives of NEETs and ignoring their real problems. They are more populated by childish taunts that are made to Isekai's fans and comments blaming them for canceling the work.

A good portion of this audience is the same one that generalizes Isekai's works and puts them all in the same boat. I'm not saying that there is a majority of those who liked the chapter, but the presence of this thought is evident. And this vision is resonant with the work itself, as the author did exactly the same and generalized the sub-genre, choosing characters from popular franchises that have no relationship to each other and arbitrarily demonizing them without backing to the real story.

For example, what does the tone of KonoSuba, a parody, have to do with Re:Zero, which constitutes a serious plot of psychological drama? What to represent a character similar to Ainz Ooal Gown would have to add to a possible criticism of the romanticization of the Hikikomori or NEET phenomenon, given that, in Overlord, as far as the anime adapted, we hardly know about the protagonist's past, nor if he fits in this archetype? What would representing a character almost aesthetically identical to Kirito could add if, contrary to what Isekai Tenseisha Koroshi suggests and then tries to go against in reincarnated ones, his story does not carry any trace of romanticizing anti-social status? Seriously... Instead, in certain chapters like Days of Begginings and the parking lot scene in Alicization Lasting, there's even a focus on anti-social disturbance as something negative and the construction of apathy, indifference to reality. The work's proposal is not to romanticize the protagonist's isolation and escapism, but to work on the concept of “reality” and the limits between the two sides of this mirror. So much so that both worlds are conceived as having losses and benefits, never just one side of that coin. And, above all, what would the inspiration for Sword Art Online be doing there, if it isn't even Isekai?

The danger of this discourse is almost instantaneous: the author, more concerned with pointing fingers at the sub-genre, did not lend himself to choosing coherent examples, both with each other and with the main idea he wants to convey. As much as I don't like to assume things unsure and print accusations, this lack of correlation makes it seem like he's barely read the works. The attack is unfounded and seems to give us only a single message: "Isekai is the problem." But, after all, why is it the problem? Because some of its examples represent questionable moral elements as a good thing? True, but proliferating hate speech against works that has nothing to do with it is irresponsible.

Furthermore, even if you, the reader, for some reason want to argue that, in your opinion, certain animes referenced there are within that group, the message is still not justifiable. Propagating hate speech against NEETs and demonizing them in your work will not only not solve the problem or promote healthy debate. On the contrary: it will only make it worse. People in this situation are victims of a phenomenon, whether caused by socioeconomic or particular circumstances, and need support and lifestyle changes. It may be wrong to portray this phenomenon as normal. It is not. It's not okay with this type of behavior, and many of the people in this situation can actually be questionable in their conduct. However, branding these people as bad is definitely not the proper treatment. It will make the veiled prejudice about them grow and the hand that society should extend to rehabilitation will be the same one that points to ostracism.

Don't say I'm jumping to conclusions. After all, in certain passages, the work doesn't even try to hide this discourse. In the words of the witch who is responsible for saving Lute and for guiding his plan: “One of them was a shut-in who always escaped reality through video games. In a world whithout powers, he was nothing more than a hate filled dog who followed orders. Despite wanting to fall in love more than anyone else, he pathetically coped with his loneliness throught the world of 2D. A truly laughable piece of trash. A piece of trash like him should have died in the crevices of society like the other pieces of trash (...)”

And, as if this dangerous moral were not enough, it could also make Isekai Tenseisha Koroshi a very... hypocritical story. If the main message the author wants to convey is the danger of morals spread by certain Isekais, and if the main argument her fans have used to support this issue is the infamous term of “self-insert”, we come to another level of contradiction. After all, what else this single-chapter work once again presents is the pervasiveness of an extremely questionable ethic and service as a self-insert. This time, however, the projection is not with the fans of Isekai, so condemned by the community, but with the haters. The protagonist, Lute, is a perfect vehicle for this, as he is the perfect way for those with hatred for the sub-genre to vent all of their anger. Which target would be better than several famous Isekai near-protagonists? At this point, it doesn't even matter what the problem is, since the one who criticizes it also endorses or reproduces it.

Ladies and gentlemen, I know that the infamous “Isekai wave” is constantly treated as of poor quality by the community. And I share the same opinion that a large portion of Isekais are repetitive, recycling various concepts of setting and character, and that many are poor in substance. However, it is necessary to stick to the fact that hurling irrational hatred or stating that “everything sucks and that's it” are very simple decisions that do not resolve. It is in the nature of human beings to wish that everything simply resolves itself immediately. We want things to work out effortlessly, and so we are full-eyed when we listen to immediate and generalizing proposals like the one diffused in this work.

But that's not how things are going to fit together. Attacking Isekai fans, generalizing works simply because they belong to a sub-genre, or just reproducing that there is a problem with Isekai without questioning how they are drawing attention to it is not the right way to go. A healthy debate is what fits here, precisely what this manga did not propose. Of course, there is always the possibility that the author is not wanting to draw attention to that side of the work, and is just an interpretation. It's possible. However, while the most talked about face is the attempt to criticize the sub-genre, that remains my opinion.

Reading this work made me sad. Sad to see the speech that the author wanted to endorse, but even more sad to see it echoing in the community later. Even though, personally, I'm not a big fan of Kakegurui, it's a big disappointment for me. I don't like writing inflammatory reviews about certain works at all, but in this case, I couldn't help it. And, if by any chance you are looking for a work that deals with the subject of NEETs and Hikikomoris with due respect and seriousness, go to NHK ni Youkoso! or ReLIFE. This is not the place.

"Why don't you admit it? Prioritize the lives of all beings above the human race. Only then would you prove to be a superior species. You imbeciles, claim that justice is on your side. What justice is this to which you appeal? We inhabit the human and we take on the role of the balance preserver of all life. It's the damn humans the real infestation of usurping animals. Better... A parasitic life form."
[HIROKAWA, Takeshi. Kiseijuu: Sei no Kakuritsu]

Kiseijuu is a shocking experience. On the one hand, it gives a serious story of urban fantasy. A bloodthirsty sci-fi universe, ruled by body horror and by ... which the protagonist, Izumi Shinichi, wanders as a victim of inevitable involvement. On the other hand, it turns out to be something else. A story that delves into the nature and behavior of the human species and subverts its themes into a philosophical, though not difficult to access, message.

As an adaptation of a 1989 manga, Kiseijuu inherits features from pre-2000 horror and sci-fi classics such as Alien. The narrative starts from mysterious beings, whose identity and precise origin remain hidden throughout the plot. After all, nothing contributes more to terror than not knowing precisely the origin or nature of an element. At some point, these creatures take control of the human brain and metamorphose, blending into contemporary society. Acting as cannibals towards humans, they are responsible for the "mincemeat murders", which would come to terrify the Japanese population (and the world) in the next stages of history.

Our protagonist, Shinichi Izumi, is another poor victim of these beings. Except for the fact that, unlike other humans, it's not his brain that's completely taken over by the parasites, but his right arm. To the detriment of this failure, Shinichi is forced to live with 'Migi', as he calls the parasite, and see him as an ally in the fight for survival. And that, ladies and gentlemen, brings us to the first great merit in history.

Izumi is a person described as sensitive, as initially noted by Murano. As a human being, one of his greatest qualities (and his greatest downfall) is his constant sentimentality and the way in which his passion clouds his judgments and makes him make logically wrong decisions. There is a stark contrast between him and Migi, who, devoid of emotions and a maturing way of life, is cold and logical in the sense of guiding his actions and thoughts about his own survival. Migi initially lacks a sense of species and collectivity. None of the parasites do. All they think about is survival itself, as in a wild and savage state or, better said, in a food chain. Migi is unable to understand Shinichi, who sustains a sense of responsibility and assumes selfless behavior that gets him into trouble, in disadvantageous situations. Migi cannot understand empathy. And the same path works for Shinichi, who repeatedly blames and angers the parasites for the misfortunes that happen around him.

However, as the narrative progresses, there is an escalation of the tragedy. Eventually, the parasites reach Shinichi and those close to the protagonist. Shinichi loses his mother to an unfortunate encounter, and even facing the certainty of her death, his reaction is as human as possible. He refuses to accept the loss, and his continued restraint behavior undermines Migi's efforts, resulting in both of them nearing death. If you ask me, I would say that this way the author treats Shinichi is very proper and real. After all, recently involved in an incident of such proportions and still bearing the guilt of agreeing to his parents' trip, he can't be expected to make the most logical and appropriate decision. Normal people aren't like that. Humans are not like that.

Psychology tells us that the act of going through near-death experiences can bring about drastic changes in a person's behavior. Psychological shock confers an adaptive transition and the appreciation of certain things that were not before. Well, in the case of Kiseijuu, this is true, not only in the psychological sense, but also because of the plot factor itself that makes Migi's intervention entail physiological effects. From the incident with his mother, Izumi develops as a colder person and gradually watches her emotions fade away. Although his altruism is still there, there is constant self-doubt on the part of the protagonist and an identity crisis. Gradually, the fragile and emotionally unstable human's face is replaced by a silhouette ever closer to Migi, the entity he called a monster. Izumi recognizes himself as closer to those he abhorred. Details that the director and the author himself put on the spotlight show this. Even those close and loved by him see this transition. From the horror of not knowing the origin and nature of the parasites, Izumi now no longer understands the nature of himself.

On the other hand, parasites mixed with society show very heterogeneous progressions. True, many give in to cannibalistic behavior and meet Shinichi, sooner or later, surrendering to the apparent nature of the species and representing what we initially know of them: bloodthirsty masses of destruction. Others who survive longer develop nuances of behavior. They question superiors' decisions, take action and organize themselves, as happens with the group that tries to assassinate Ryouko Tamiya. And, speaking of it, there are those who go through a deeper development and decide to fully integrate into society.

Ryouko Tamiya is one of these parasites. Interested in human behavior, she takes a different route from her fellow species. Although it is given as a hint that she was never able to fully understand such emotions, Ryouko awakens traces of empathy by following up on one of her experiments: she becomes a mother. At first, humanity was not expected from her, and Shinichi himself verified the statements that the human child she had with A was just a victim of her experiments. But, as the plot progresses, Ryouko finds herself laughing at certain situations. Her genuine representation of emotions takes on even greater contours, so that at the end of the story, in her last moments, she really cares for her child, consolidating the presence of the maternal instinct.

In addition to this surprise, Kiseijuu increasingly pushes the deconstruction of the references it initially establishes. In contrast to Shinichi, Migi is perhaps the greatest example among parasites who acquire empathetic tendencies. It's almost metaphorical and ironic that Izumi and Migi are one. Both progress as a mean between their initial states of personality and empathy as they learn about each other and try, albeit incompletely, to assimilate the other species' views. And it couldn't be different, since the message and the path the author wants to take are really these.

With the discovery of the parasites and the ensuing government investigation, human beings show the true face behind empathic and altruistic fragility. We've spent nearly twenty episodes learning and getting in touch about how parasites are murderous monstrosities and creatures that threaten the limits of our species. Although the piece gradually makes us question the boundaries between humans and parasites through the sad progression of Shinichi's psyche, as well as thinking about the possibility of coexistence through Tamiya's actions, all we see is a poor protagonist sneaking into deal with that. Humanity's collective efforts to confront the parasites have yet to be seen. Their interventions have not yet been expressed.

And human interventions, just like in the real world, are cruel.

Kiseijuu, in addition to a story, is a reflection. The work makes us reflect on how human beings are cowards, they are selfish, but unlike works that address the social relationship and these manifestations among ourselves, Kiseijuu focuses on how we subjugate the different. In certain cases, like Izumi's, we can care for our preservation. There is the sense of species, the sense of altruism and collective survival. However, this arm extended to people is the same one that takes away from those who are different, from our neighbors of other species that we subjugate. It is possible to understand the reality of an equal. However, we lack when the challenge is to empathize, assimilate and understand the vision of a different, another being.

Kiseijuu, paraphrasing what the author himself tells us, is proof that human beings are the real parasites. We create laws for the preservation of our planet, but the real concern that gives root to this thought is nothing more than our own preservation. We subjugate parasites because they are killers, but there is nothing more murderous than ourselves. And this unquestionable fact is stamped in front of us, as we watch the chaotic government intervention and its atrocious operation, slaughtering innocent people in order to eliminate the "greater evil". I mean, how hypocritical can we be? How many corpses would we resign ourselves to walking on to exterminate the "potential threat"? As Migi projects, if the operation were to fail, the next steps would likely be Napalm, missiles or nuclear weapons.

Until the last one perished, we would kill more and more civilians. And most frightening of all this is not its gore or graphic horror, but its veracity. It is this scenario that happens in wars. It is this panorama that is seen in terrorism hunts, in the most recent geopolitical scenarios. How many civilians who had nothing to do with the matter were murdered when the hunt for Osama bin Laden was launched? How many victims who had nothing to do with the frictions of war have not been wiped out by nuclear weapons? That is why there is no way to defeat human beings: for nothing can overcome not our intelligence but our unscrupulousness.

Despite its engaging and incredibly clear message and its qualities that I recognize, I also have criticisms of Kiseijuu. In this text, I focused more on the central and most important characters in the work. As you can see, I really like the progression of some of them and the illustration that others represent. Shinichi's father and his family drama associated with recovery difficulties and alcoholic tendencies makes a great and emotional representation of how easily we are shaken by loss. Detective Kuramori and his thirst for revenge add a lot to the deconstruction that, at that time, was already underway. However, it must be said that not everyone is like that.

While they are important representations, some of the parasites and other characters are shallow. The prime example of this factor is Gotou. His greatest merit in the work is to reinforce the issue of fragility and deconstruction that Kiseijuu prints. However, when it comes to the main villain, he adds very little to the cast or the story as a whole. We know little of his way of thinking and he's reduced to the simple concept of parasites, which doesn't make him so great as a villain, let alone as the ultimate opponent.

Uragami is at the top of that list, being a negative milestone in the show in my opinion. The appearances he makes, for the most part, are to get the script moving, and his psych goes into the details only by explaining his recognition ability and, later, his obsession with Shinichi. Not only is the origin of his criminality barely explored, he is also marked by being the only caricature in Kiseijuu that I consider out of place. In a show permeated by graphic horror applied when necessary and seriousness, he became a negative example with his caricatured expressions, sticking his tongue out and passing on the stereotyped image of psychopathy that is not very proper for a serious seinen, let alone a of this caliber.

Other characters like Kana and Murano are competent and humanized in my view. Although they don't play as important a role as Shinichi and Migi, their observations contribute to the central theme and it's understandable why they like Shinichi through what is exposed from each other's psyche. However, I need to point out that Kana's sensitive ability, despite yielding unpredictable and inconvenient moments in the plot, is not properly explained. Other girls, like Ahiko, harbor feelings for Shinichi and this too is never explained, unfortunately.

I could comment on several other characters in the anime or delve deeper into the ones I just mentioned. As you can see, I have a hard time summarizing things and that would be to my liking. However, for reasons of extension, I preferred to leave the rest of the cast and most of the characters open as only superficial comments.

If there's one factor that Kiseijuu doesn't miss, it's suspense. The apparitions of the parasites occur at the most inconvenient times possible and cause significant damage to Shinichi's life. From the character's difficulty in reconciling his romance with the sense of duty in being the only one to know about the parasites that surround him, to the loss of his mother and the need to save Murano and Kana while hiding his secret. The sense of danger is constant and decisions matter, since the author is not afraid to kill important characters, and this obviously works in favor of the anime. Although not like Gyakkou Burai Kaiji, Kiseijuu also applies strategies that sometimes go wrong. Migi, though extremely intelligent and observer, is bound by the host's limitations. At certain times, the psyche and traumas acquired by Shinichi make a difference and his difficulty in calming down and facing the situation rationally balances Migi's ease. Besides, even at the end of the anime, strategies like the one used against Gotou don't work perfectly. It is a work that does not lack resistance in its plot, so to speak.

Adapted by the Madhouse studio in its glory years, Kiseijuu contains a visual identity suitable for a seinen, I would say. With the exception of the Uragami caricature, the characters have clean and more serious looks, and the studio does very well the body horror scenes, a necessary element for this story. Despite that, I personally find this production a bit weak for Madhouse. While the director manages well in foreshadowings and scenes that require less elaboration, such as in Migi's speeches and demonstrations, the presentation leaves something to be desired in the action scenes. As someone who consumed the work thirsting for the reputation of its philosophy and the presence of the element of psychological suspense, I wasn't particularly impacted by this factor. However, those thinking of watching Kiseijuu for the action will likely be disappointed, as the battles are much more strategy oriented than choreographed and visual presentation. In some cases, these are repeated clashes between the parasites, like "whips" colliding in the same way. Some crowd scenes also feature poor CGI usage, and this hurts the animation's impression a bit.

The soundtrack, on the other hand, is quite competent. From the piano sounds that play in sadder moments to the good use of the "It's the Right Time" ending in some of the episodes, Kiseijuu evokes a good sound collection to complement its audiovisual effects in the sad and tragic moments that surround the work. And, of course, it doesn't fall short in moments of suspense and in creating an atmosphere of strangeness and in sustaining the mystery of the parasites, making use of strange and exotic sounds or classic melodies with a heavier atmosphere. Personally, my favorites from this collection are "Next to You" and the episode preview song "Choir". Some director's choice moments are a little weird, in my opinion. The most emblematic example is the scene where Shinichi meets Uda. Desperate for the presence of a parasite next to him, Shinichi runs to meet him, in a moment of suspense, while "Next to You", a piano score more suited to sad scenes, is employed. Despite this, these are rarer slips and likely to have little impact on the viewer's experience.

The opening and closing themes are of a more personal assessment, as far as the music is concerned. However, I must draw attention to the fact that the symbology of the opening lyric, "Let me Hear", expressively reiterates the main message that the anime covers. I mean... Generally, the opening lyrics meet the symbology for the anime, since the vast majority are made for the show itself. However, when it comes to Kiseijuu, it specifically caters to one face of the show, and that is its philosophy. Since the first time we have contact with opening, there has been questioning about the relationship between species and a letter that constantly points to human nature and its anomalous position, isolated from the food chain and natural selection. In that sense, seeing Let me Hear's lyrics is well suited to fans at the end of the anime, and it more adds or reaffirms the story's message, rather than just offering musicality. Unfortunately, I don't appreciate its visual choices in the same way and I don't consider it a brilliant presentation or as rich in terms of visual symbolism, although we can see a few.

Watching Kiseijuu was a rewarding experience for me. Despite having some problems with the work and some more evident with the production, I could see the author's passion for conveying a proper message and evoking a reflection in his readers. Living up to what's expected of psychological suspense, my favorite genres, this work more than deserves a place on your list if you're a fan. And for comparisons that point it as superior to his Pierrot "cousin" Tokyo Ghoul, I completely agree.