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I am going to start this review by blatantly stating that Akatsuki no Yona is one of the best manga serials that I have read in a long time, quite possibly ever.

The facets that make Yona of the Dawn such a satisfying pleasure are vast. You have a delightful array of characters that have much more depth than you can imagine. The rich historical lore and feudal countries with a backdrop of political warfare provide the story with a foundation that is fresh and alluring. The action sequences are suspenseful and can leave you at the edge of your seat. Did I mention the characters? ... The charming and delicious looking cast of crazies that you cannot help but love, even if they aren’t necessarily the “good guys?” Lastly, the art is breathtakingly gorgeous!

Let’s examine the characters for a second. Going over every single one of them and why they are so badass is not what I am talking about. My focus is singularly going to be on our female protagonist. I admire her so much. She is the type of female heroine that I cannot help but devour during a literary adventure. Sure, she’s a spoiled, bratty princess but that only lasts for about the first five minutes (relatively speaking of course). Yona, as she is thus named, is a true visage of inner-strength and self-growth. Most leading ladies in manga serials, even the super serious ones, are always portrayed as the “victims,” be it for emotional, physical, whatever kinds of abuse, however. Yona is not a victim. She never allows herself to fall into such a pathetic category because she is forced to realize that life goes on, whether you are ready for it to or not. In that sense, I think there are a lot of women out there, especially young girls, who could really relate to someone like her.

My second-favourite part of the series? THE ART! It is so amazingly stunning that I seriously cannot emphasize it enough. The details for each panel are positively exquisite. When the panels are jam-packed from corner to corner, you do not feel overwhelmed at all. Your eyes get bright and eager to absorb everything. Kusanagi-san has an impeccable talent for making her art emanate a simple sophistication that is visually addictive. I easily flipped from one page to the next and the next and the next for the sheer fact that I could not seem to satiate my desire to experience more of these drawings. Even if the panels are depicting one character or one item, essentially being “empty” or “blank” for the most part, it does not exude a lazy, or incomplete vibe. I have gotten that sensation from other manga that I have read and it is not a fun feeling to have.

I know that Yona of the Dawn is not a finished product, nonetheless my rating for the entire series is ten out of ten and a platinum platter presentation to my favourites bin. Anything less would be an insult to it in more ways than one.

I read it entirely in a couple of days, more like evenings, lying in bed after work. I would get bundled up into bed, crack open the pages and just bask in the feel-good nature of a unique family story.

Immediately you are flooded with an array of emotions. There is grief chief amongst them as you begin the tale with a gathering to mourn someone’s death. Very shortly afterwards you feel a strong tension within the family because there is a child born out of wedlock that needs to be cared for, yet it’s a burden that no one in the family wishes to bear. ... This tension is heavily tied to themes of shame, disgust, loneliness, rage, and pity. Then as we watch Daikichi and Rin adapt to a new and unfamiliar life, we are washed with a wonderful sense of warmth and comfort. If you’ve ever been a parent, you can relate to the struggles that go into raising a child. The bulk of that has to do deal with making sure that you’re feeding them enough and nutritiously, clothing them, and providing them with a home as well as shelter. But there is also that other half: teaching them a sense of self, respect, culture; helping them understand what it takes to survive and live as they grow up and ask some very difficult questions, questions that usually only experience itself can answer.

Because of every single one of these amazing aspects, I felt wholeheartedly enchanted. Daikichi and Rin were learning so much about each other as well as themselves and they were doing it together. Rin helped Daikichi learn the virtues of patience as well as the skill to thoroughly think about a situation before making decisions. The brash instincts of a bachelor were quickly being matured into something deeper because these choices would affect more than one person now. Daikichi helped Rin fit into a world where she felt comfortable and at peace, a place where she didn’t feel like an unwanted, broken toy. A home where she truly belonged.

I have never read a manga that examined parenthood on such a substantially deep and intimate level like this. This made up the artful and elegant first half of the series, however. The second half loses its unique story appeal and rapidly mutates into an atypical shōjo plot line. After Rin enters high school, the perspective shifts from Daikichi to Rin’s social and romantic development. The tale becomes less and less about Daikichi tackling parental concerns and more about high school life and drama.

I won’t say that I despised this variation, but I certainly did not find it pleasant. Instead of seeing her go about her day studying, interacting with friends, and then coming home to cook and study some more, my preference would have been to see Daikichi having to adapt to Rin turning into a woman. That means fighting off boys who want to date her, having to address any questions or issues she would have with the decision to go to college (or to not go), and how to financially prepare for something of that magnitude. It would have been very fascinating to use this period of Rin’s life to examine sex. How would Daikichi speak to Rin about sex and her self-worth as a woman? These particular facets create a considerably more compelling serial then what was given.

Unfortunately, that is not even the worst of the disappointment. There are relationships and interactions that grow on you so deeply that watching them fall apart just breaks your heart. Then you have other relationships that are so toxic that you feel a strong sense of fear for the characters you have grown to love. In this manga series, I felt as if the author was purposefully trying to make her audience wither with rage or frustration. While I suspected Rin’s feelings before it was blatantly revealed, I had never anticipated that it would be met in such a dishonorable fashion. Meanwhile, Daikichi has a chance, finally, for something beautiful but it’s completely stolen after volumes of teasing and pining. The resolution in this scenario was abrupt, unpredictable, and plain unfair.

The finale and the wrap up of the tale left a bitter taste in my mouth and a heavy heart in my chest. There was an ocean of wondrous possibilities for Bunny Drop to be one of the best josei manga serials ever written. Yet, everything from the second half unto the conclusion was a complete and utter disaster. I won’t even recommend the manga. If you really want to experience the series then please just watch the anime, as it had a very good reason for stopping where it did. Six bunnies out of ten and a sad face on top.

One of the aspects of Princess Jellyfish that I found wholly alluring was the concept. It’s very original, doesn’t have the unnecessary splatter of fan service, and the characters are so much like normal people, that you could genuinely (and sometimes sadly) understand their quirks. The idea of a young lady’s obsession with jellyfish combined with a cross-dressing man’s fashion prowess is quite brilliant and delightfully different.

Before I jump into story facets, I want to take a minute to say how much I loved the art!!! It is one of the most beautiful manga serials I have ever read. The pages are so crisp and ... clean, even when there is chaos going on. The details are refined and drawn with such care that it took my breath away. Higashimura’s ability to draw is astounding and exceedingly adroit. There is sophistication and elegance in her artwork, even if it’s a comedy of this calibre. Okay, moving onwards…

Tsukimi is not your average josei protagonist. While she’s not in high-school, she’s still only 18 years old. She isn’t a tiny little thing with perfect shimmering hair, and a smile to make all the men flaunt to her thighs. She’s a chubby gal, with freckles, frizzy hair (LOTS of hair), glasses, and a severely lacking sense of style. I look at her and I can see the average person, which is a nice feeling to have. Even her “nunnery” flatmates are all misshapen with physical “flaws.” I honestly cannot remember the last manga series that I have read where this has been the case. You may not think that something as minor as this could be construed as a “big deal,” but it truly is one. I feel like by having characters who are imperfect, the author is saying that it’s okay to be imperfect, which is a concept that seems to be lost entirely on society today.

Princess Jellyfish was gut-achingly hilarious. It really is very funny…but only for about the first ten volumes. The mediocre things that can make the women of Amamizukan (the name of the residence) bust out into random bits of stagecraft is laughable. These particular moments are spread throughout the series, more so in the beginning than later on, and usually refer to a lot of Japanese pop culture (but there are some clever Western ones too!). I really enjoyed how the author unapologetically makes fun of the social-awkwardness of the characters. She does it in a way that says, “Yes, I am ridiculous in my nature, but it’s okay for me to be this way because it makes me comfortable in my own skin.” This goes back to the whole “it’s okay to be imperfect” thing I was talking about earlier.

What I didn’t like about Princess Jellyfish, is how predictable and repetitive it became. Every single time that the crew of women had a glimmer of hope for achieving their overall goal, or a positive path towards it, they get crushed down. I know that stuff like this can be necessary for the development of a good story, but when it happens every goddamn time, and in progressively predictable (or outrageous) ways, it can get exhausting. The manga is still ongoing, mind you, but it’s current point is just so dumb that I don’t even plan on continuing with it. That’s how bad it has gotten! I feel as if the author is stretching out the series just so she can make Kuranosuke realise some hefty emotions that he’s in denial about, maybe even buy him some time to act out on said emotions. The same could be said about Tsukimi as well. The obstacle that she chose to make all of this happen just doesn’t seem to fit with the story at all. I found it to be so terribly out of left field and completely unnecessary for the series. There were so many other ways she could have created the conflict needed to help with their emotion-finding progress. I enjoyed the fact that Princess Jellyfish didn’t rely on sex for storytelling. But Higashimura is going down that atypical josei route and it’s ridiculous. It all comes off as being the result of excruciatingly poor planning.

This is around the time the humour also begins to diminish. The nuns at Amamizukan and their melodramatics also become very stale and foreseeable. They make an idiotic choice (for plot progression), which they finally start to feel guilty about, yet the way they do so is very uncharacteristic, giving it a vibe of irrelevancy. There are other things that also began to irk me. Kuranosuke’s brother has contact with someone who is very important to our male star, but it never explains why, at least not well-enough for it make any sort of sense. It may come up later in the story, but at this point it would be completely out of nowhere for that to happen.

Long story coming to its end, when you hit volume ten or so, all of the elements that made Princess Jellyfish so enjoyable become a hot mess of regurgitation, only it’s attired differently for appeal. Everything from volume one unto ten is really fun, worthy of time and effort. But afterwards, it provides you with the exhausted essence that a chore would. I really wanted to give this series a full ten out of ten. I mean, come on, the expectations were so grand and marvellous!! However, I am inclined to give it six jellies outta ten.

Time travel is a HUGE aspect of this series, occurring way more than necessary. I feel like the characters are always going backwards and forwards and backwards again; it’s a gimmick that gets old quickly. At varying points in the story I felt that the author could have taken a route separate to time travelling that would have led to the same overall finale. Maybe I’m just upset that she didn’t get more creative with the whole concept. The tedious nature of these “time jumps” began to bore me far sooner than I had anticipated.

The characters themselves are nothing truly special. They follow your standard ... shōjo tropes making them invariably lacklustre. The female protagonist is a spoiled girl who has two guys that fall for her, the good boy and the bad boy. The bad boy has mummy and daddy issues that contribute to his intolerable nature. But the woman that he cares for so fondly for helps him realize the error of his ways so he vows to become a “better person.” Meanwhile, the good boy follows said female around like a lost puppy until they reach their inevitable happily ever after. You also have your badass villain boy who is more handsome than the other two, but also has issues stemming from a horrid childhood that makes him the monster. Does he mend his ways? Why of course he does! Isn’t that the standard shōjo way of life?

I didn’t absolutely hate everything about the series. The ninja backdrop that makes up the past for two of the male characters is actually pretty interesting. I don’t think I’ve come across a manga series with such a motif before; at least not in a shōjo romance type series set in modern times. These facets provide two of the male characters, Hitaki and Kagetora, with much more depth than any of the other people in the series. It explains the conflict characteristic of the story’s development and is probably the best written portions out of the whole thing.

The art was immensely disappointing when I first started reading Shinobi Life. It felt very sloppy and rushed. The expressions on each of the character’s faces were uninspired. I really didn’t care for the way that the mangaka drew their eyes whenever they were feeling sad or sorrowful. I’m not sure if she just didn’t know how to express it, or if she believed that a pile of lines would amount for something called countenance. But whatever it was, it wasn’t good, however. I did see improvement as the series went on. The lines and images began to have a crisper feeling to them and the character’s moods were discernible in a more fluid way. It’s still not the best thing out there, but it was far better than the first chapter of the first volume.

I will give the series as a whole six stars, which is an entire star more than it deserves. Art improvement and an interesting premise are worth more than nothing, I believe. Also, I would be lying if I said that I didn’t get invested in what would happen next. It was compelling to an extent.

I really love the Gosick series. It has little titbits of all of my favourite elements when it comes to the mystery genre–characters that feel real, suspense, intellectual stimulation, etc.

The characters are all very interesting people. Some of them are a bit dryer and more boring than others, but still worthwhile contributors to the story. The protagonists, Victorique and Kujō, have very natural chemistry that is quite pleasant. Nothing is ever forced, overwhelming, or seemingly out of place when they interact with one another. Characters that are written with such genuine grace are my ultimate weakness.

The art is positively beautiful and simple in nature, yet ... it reveals so much. It’s very clean and crisp, leaving a lot of little details in the background that add an interactive touch to the reading experience. Certain panels, depending on the case the duo are working on, can seem overpopulated with either expression or environment, making your eyes work harder to grasp what’s going on, but overall it’s quite lovely.

There are “cases” in the serial, or mysteries essentially, that Victorique and Kujō work on together to solve. A lot of them are complex in nature and what I love about this is that it keeps you guessing the entire time. When everything is unravelled and laid out at its finales, you can’t help but wonder how you didn’t find all of the clues yourself. In a lot of the situations, the clues are as evident to the reader as they are to the characters. This creates a rather intellectually stimulating and wonderfully invigorating feeling. Above all of the other fantastic qualities that Gosick has, this is my absolute favourite.

On the whole, Gosick was a great reading experience for me and it is a manga that I’ll always recommend, especially if you’re into mysteries.

8 cupcakes outta 10!

In the spirit of being upfront, I will go ahead and say that 100% no Kimi e is very mediocre. There is nothing new or exciting about it; nothing to set it apart from the tens of thousands of other shōjo manga out there. When the first volume begins, we see Yuzu being introduced to her new class. She quickly makes a couple of lady friends and bonds with Sōtaru. After that the story just slows down as we watch with mounting boredom of how Yuzu’s feelings begin to develop for him. The whole clichéd notion of a girl falling for a person who’s in ... a long-distance relationship isn’t very new to the shōjo genre, but some crazy plot twists help to make things more exciting. With 100% no Kimi e all we have is the Shiba puppy.

The abrupt nature of the series makes it impossible to really create any sort of connections to any of the characters, including the protagonists. Her friendships are established early on and don’t show any details or development. One minute it’s “Hi, I’m Yuzu,” and the next they’re all chatting about boys like they’ve known one another for years. With Sōtaru, we don’t learn much about his personal life. Aside from a part-time job and his co-ownership of Shiba, there’s literally nothing else going on with him. Such colourless and severely lacklustre protagonists are a bit of an annoyance for me, to be perfectly blunt, not to mention wholeheartedly pointless.

One of the elements of the book that did interest me was Yuzu’s mother. She is recently disabled and her relationship with Yuzu is different because of it. The mother’s whole world has taken a huge shift because of how she’s affected psychologically and emotionally by her physical limitations. It’s brought up in the first two chapters, but then so hastily “resolved,” and then never spoken of again. I hated that! This one concept could’ve allowed for so much depth, or at the very least add something a bit more appetizing to a seemingly mundane story.

If you are looking for a shōjo manga that will make you giggle, or fangirl with butterflies in your tummy, then I recommend avoiding 100% no Kimi e. If you just want a bit of mindless reading material that is very short, simple and with brief sweet moments, then you may not mind it too much. Just don’t expect a heavy-handed tale of epic romancing!

3 puppies outta 10!

Junji Ito, better known for his remarkable twisted and weird horror manga, becomes a co-kitty-owner when his fiancée moves in with him, bringing her cat, Yon, along for the ride. Soon afterwards, she adopts a small kitten, Mu, to help keep Yon from being lonely.

The manga was a small collection of hilarious anecdotes of what life is like with a small clan of energetic, curious, and mischievous feline family members. Almost all of the tales can be appreciated by anyone who’s ever been a cat-slave. They were very cute.

The humour and adorability was further amplified by Ito-san’s unique, creepy, and horror-infused illustrations. For example, Yon ... is described and drawn as a “cursed” kitty due to the markings on his back that resemble a skull. This “cursed” nature comes up a couple of times throughout the book in funny ways when Ito-san describes a busy night of working. I laughed quite a bit at those parts because I could relate to it on a personal level. I once mistook my black cat for a gargantuan rat in the middle of the night (yay exhaustion). I had been awake for almost 4 days, studying for midterms.

My favourite aspect of the manga is the message that no matter what kind of person you are–cat person, dog person, etc.–when animals are involved, your passions can usually be swayed, especially where love and cuteness is concerned. 😉

I will provide a small warning for anyone who’s ever lost a pet: the extra story at the end is much sadder than the rest of the manga and may evoke tears. I know that I cried dearly and hugged my cats to my chest for a while.

I highly recommend this to fans of Junji Ito, manga fans, and cat lovers everywhere. There’s something here for you all to enjoy or relate to.

10 hairballs outta 10!!

When I first read this series back in February 2013 (thank you GoodReads for that precise recollection), I remember that I really enjoyed myself with it. The first thing that popped out the most to me, nostalgically speaking, were the characters and the chemistry between Misaki and Kuroe. The second was the artwork. I recalled how beautiful I felt the illustrations were. I’m quite pleased to admit that both of those things have held up fairly well even after four years. However, the story in its entirety is a completely different case, pardon the pun.

Starting with the qualities that I loved: the vampires themselves. While ... a few of the vampires do have a loli or moe type of air to them, overall they’re all so sophisticated and highly intellectual that those aspects don’t matter much at all. They aren’t the standard “beautiful and misjudged” stereotype that Western audiences are used to (and like to obsess over), but they also aren’t the sadistic monstrosities that’s exhibited in common anime/manga of similar genres. They’re just people who are different. This allowed for more attention to detail on getting to know the vampires individually as said people. When trying to add a layer of humanity to vampires, I belief this technique works the best; at the very least it worked damn well in Blood Alone. Granted not every single vampire is this way, but the vast majority of them are.

You never physically see vampire teeth puncture flesh in the manga series at all. A mouth on someone’s neck, sure, but never the graphic image of a vampire actually feeding in a brutal or savage way that’s expected from this type of medium. This vague depiction also contributes wonderfully to the whole notion of these creatures just being an “evolved” version of humans. In addition, this careful and tender means of delineating them feasting makes the manga feel more provocative than if it were flagrantly displayed for the world to see, if that makes sense.

Misaki and Kuroe themselves, as I mentioned earlier, have a wonderful relationship with a charmingly balanced chemistry. There’s a mild tension that hangs over them as their more intimate feelings for one another are implied via multiple scenarios, some more obvious than others, but it never reaches a boiling point of frustration. It’s all so stunningly simple and natural. Because Misaki was turned at a seemingly young age, her lacking maturity does surface at peculiar moments, yet even then she’ll whip out some wisdom to counteract that behaviour that makes you ponder just how old she really is. This coupled with Kuroe’s rather innocent and casual demeanour are quite complimentary to each others’ personas.

The illustrations are an aesthetic delight! I get quite weak at the knees when I discover manga that has panels positioned in perfectly organised and neat little rows, or artwork that is breathtakingly clean, crisp, and immaculate. Messy panels make it difficult for me to focus on the actual story as well as the action that’s occurring. On the other hand, uncluttered and cultivated panels wholeheartedly sweep me away, holding me riveted to the pages, even if the story isn’t so grandiose. As you can see below, Blood Alone definitely fits the latter.

Now for the not-so-lovely elements: the story. The first half of the story is quite good, mostly because it takes on an episodic approach. We learn about Kuroe’s past and a little bit about Misaki’s past, which is a very good foundation for an overarching plot. The episodic bits are essentially the cases that they solve together. Deliberately each case brings them closer to this grand, overhanging narrative, but then there’s a transition that’s painfully abrupt and jarringly confusing.

In the story, Kuroe has a loved one who’s gone missing. I really hoped that eventually everything would tie together and come full circle, leading us to this missing loved one. But that never happens. Misaki’s past does come up, but it’s completely unexpected. It doesn’t tie to the foreshadowing at all, but instead ventures onwards towards a whole new plot element that wasn’t ever introduced or nurtured enough to work fluidly for the series. To put it simply, the storyline goes bonkers with random twists and turns, making it unpleasant and distasteful.

I strongly believe that simplicity would have been the best route with Blood Alone. But instead the series tries to become an elaborate conspiracy of blood feuds from a thousand years ago, and some petty vengeance quest that’s excruciatingly forced upon the audience to further validate this imposing scheme. It doesn’t work and it could’ve been handled much, much better.

Aside from that, the finale of the manga is also brusque and unfinished. All of the exertion towards a pompous contrivance and in the end it never goes anywhere, literally. It’s like the story hit a brick wall, showed us some tender Misaki and Kuroe moments, and called it a day. Highly dissatisfying.

Overall, I recommend the first seven or eight volumes of Blood Alone, but definitely not the series as a whole. You just won’t enjoy what becomes of it, and it’s probably better to save yourself the frustration in the long run.

6 nibbles outta 10!

Attack on Titan Season 2 was one of the most anticipated shows of the year, let alone this season. Four years of waiting after a cliffhanger season finale fuelled with emotional intensity and more questions than anyone could have imagined, I had expected so much more from this season. I already know that going into this review, my opinion may be an unpopular one. But you know what, that’s totally okay.

The first episode of the new season picked up pretty much exactly where the first one ended. That was nice. The recaps were kept relatively short to compensate for the time elapsed in between seasons ... without letting us drown in repetitiveness. There were a lot of minor things that I noticed about the show after a few weeks of watching. Some of them are good, but the rest are decidedly not great at all.

Let’s start with the technical stuff. The animation quality was good. Compared to the first season, that’s all it was: good. Initially, I felt the animation was far superior to the first season. But after a recent re-watch of the all 26-episodes, I’m inclined to disagree with that notion. The improvements overall were very miniscule in nature, which was one of the biggest disappointments that I felt. Wit Studio has produced some other shows within the four year span, all of which had spectacular animation. One such example is Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress (Kōtetsujō no Kabaneri), which was essentially a steampunk version of Attack on Titan. Nonetheless, it was gorgeous to watch with action scenes dripping in details and meticulous incorporation of CGI elements. Was it perfect? No. Was it a vast improvement over what they originally started with? Hell yeah. But alas, it wasn’t implemented with this new season of Attack on Titan. Part of me thinks that they didn’t want to deal with devastating time crunches that the company experienced when Season One was airing, where the rush and pressure produced shoddy work. I can respect that, but I still hoped for something a little bit more.

The action sequences themselves felt naked without the implementation of CGI similar to the styles used in the original season. There is a drastic change in artistic style in regards to movement and motion, that felt like a genuine step back. The lack of sharpness and the clarity that comes with computer enhancements, made the retrogression simulate hand-drawn sequences. Normally, that’s not a bad thing, but when you’ve already got your audience familiarised with better quality, it would be ill-advised to defer to something less than expected.

Some other things that I didn’t care for consisted of the overall plot, it’s progression, and implementation. The entire premise of the 12-episode season is basically a human treasure hunt, a damn slow one to boot. Detailed revelations on the existence of the titans was severely limited. We learn one or two things that lead to a much bigger picture, yet in the end it takes five hours to get there, and it’s really not that extraordinary in the grand scheme of things. The vast chunk of the season is devoted to long stretches of dialogue that could have been accomplished in half the time that they actually took up. If there weren’t dialogues, then there were an immense number of flashbacks, most of them we could’ve done completely without as they were snippets from the first season. There just wasn’t nearly as much storytelling as there should’ve been. There’s a whole lot of build-up to something super badass, only to fall utterly short with total dissatisfaction.

In any case, Attack on Titan does maintain it’s high-intensity suspense that just propels you forward one scene after another with disgustingly hungry eyes. You get so invested in what the hell’s going to happen next that the time flies by, making each twenty-some-odd minute episode feel like mere seconds in length. It’s always been damn good at enrapturing your entire attention. I adored that, missed it immensely even. It’s a trait that works very well for a series that has built itself up on viciously violent imagery and heartbreaking losses. Nonetheless, this may be its only redeeming quality.

Overall, I was not impressed with Attack on Titan Season Two. Having to wait four years for only 12-episodes of dialogue and flashback regurgitation seems like a colossal waste. I would have preferred waiting longer for a much better and beautiful storytelling experience. While I am happy that I got to watch this while it simulcasted, I’m very sad that I felt so frustrated with it.

6 potatoes outta 10!

When I was scoping out the Spring 2017 Anime line-up, The Royal Tutor didn’t really hit my radar. From the synopsis and the preview graphics that had been released, I honestly thought it was going to be a very cheesy show with some strong boy-love vibes. As a person who doesn’t usually go for the boy-love genre, I wasn’t interested in it at all. But something about it, and I have no fricking clue what, told me to at least watch the first episode so I could confirm my feelings. I’m really glad that I listened to that tiny, not-so-weird-at-all-little-voice-in-my-head because this series ended up ... being surprisingly decent.

When I began it I got a very strong Ouran High School Host Club aura from it. You’ve got four boys who very quickly get unique names via our Heine-sensei, and they each have a relatively tropey persona. Initially, this made me very hesitant in watching the second episode. No offence towards Ouran, but this trope is so fucking overdone that I didn’t want to deal with another show that revolved around it. Luckily, my fascination with the mysterious tutor outweighed my frustration and I continued onwards.

My expectations for the show started to grow, but didn’t really turn into anything fantastic as I watched. Mid-way through the season when we still hadn’t learned anything about the Royal Tutor’s past, I began to feel highly sceptical about the writing. I knew that we were running out of episodes and time for a good, fluid explanation of how a teacher could also be so skilled in combat as to equal a highly-seasoned warrior. There were some very vague hints, but not much else to go on. I also found there to be a slight imbalance on the attention given to each of the four boys, where a couple of them received a lot more screen time than the others. These two aspects actually filled me with a bit of anxiously negative anticipation. I’ve seen it many times before. A show starts off wonderfully, but then it overreaches and falls terribly short in its execution. Luckily, that didn’t really happen with The Royal Tutor.

While it’s far from being a glorious masterpiece, it has a decent number of facets that make it quite an enjoyable anime series. The first are the characters themselves. We get to learn about each one of the boys and why they are so vehemently against tutors and education. The reasons aren’t superficial. They are laced with insecurities and bad experiences. Occasionally a reason for one son will seem minor in comparison to another, but it just adds an empathetic dimension to their personas that makes you want to root for their success. I like that these boys aren’t perfect. Their flaws make them that much more engaging.

The tutor himself is someone who reminded me of Onizuka from the anime series GTO: Great Teacher Onizuka. He is a man who took the time to understand the underlying issues that kids have in order to better tackle them with a fitting solution. Heine and Onizuka knew that kids aren’t going to respond to a one-size-fits-all solution. Each kid is different with unique issues and problems. To help said kids, you really have to be willing to get to know them and distinguish them as individuals in a way most people don’t want to deal with.

Remember how I mentioned earlier I was worried about the imbalance of screen-time for the boys? It turns out that some of the boys needed the extra attention because their problems needed that extra support. It also played very well towards plot progression because the imbalance was created to fit the unique issues and insecurities that each of the sons were going through. For example, one of the kids is a very shy and timid person with a fearsome outwardly appearance. He wasn’t shown nearly as much as I had hoped (he became my favourite character because I could relate to him like you wouldn’t believe) because of this demeanour. It wouldn’t have made sense for him to be sprouting up all over the place, unlike the youngest brother who’s a social whore.

The themes in the show were also a bit comforting. Most of it had to deal with accepting yourself for who you are, even if other’s can’t accept you. It was dealt with in a positive way that doesn’t negatively portray awkward social skills, or fetishise issues involving a lower intelligence, etc. etc. I like that the changes that the boys make are gradual instead of just being an instant fix as soon as they comprehend the lessons they’re learning. There’s also a bit of focus on not judging anyone by their appearance or initial mannerisms because there’s a huge chance that you will be wrong about them, friendships come in all shapes and sizes, and soft things will always be cute.

All of these elements made for a pleasant watching experience, however, it does have its faults. The humour, while being kooky and a light-hearted means at softening tough topics, is really predictable at times and felt cheesy and out-dated. The story in its entirety is of average quality and can make you feel pretty indifferent about whether you’re having a good time or not. Although I do like the characters, nothing within the The Royal Tutor truly made me anticipate the next episode with impatient, passionate glee. I felt so apathetic about having to wait a week for new content, or when the content finally did arrive I’d watch everything else before really getting to this. The only thing that I was super fricking curious about was Heine’s past, which was a small bit of a let-down because the morsels of clues left in the wake of one episode to the next made it sound like Heine would have a really badass history. Instead the truth was disappointing and anticlimactic.

The animation itself is pretty much typical; nothing extraordinary or breath-taking. It’s clean and seemingly well-developed. I found the outdoors scenery to be more pleasant than the interiors. There are a lot more details that go into creating the environment and atmospheres amidst nature than within buildings. We see this with the mansion, or palace, as it just felt like an atypical reproduction of a European mansion that seems quite standard in anime with such structures. Within a local café in town, we get a similar situation. The café does look to be quite large and it is nicely presented, but it doesn’t encapsulate the same sort of attention to details that the natural atmospheres do.

Mid-way through the series, we do get a whisper of a small plot that’s being hatched to affect who will inherit the throne if and when the king passes on. This is something that felt extremely out of place to me for multiple reasons. Firstly, it randomly just pops up at the finale of an episode or two and then isn’t brought up again until a few episodes later. Secondly, when it is brought up, it’s only for a couple of minutes; not nearly enough to make any sort of impact. It makes one last appearance during the final episodes, and it honestly felt like the only reason it was tossed into the series to begin with was to add some tension and intrigue to the plot.

Overall, The Royal Tutor is a good, fun average anime to check out. The cast is engaging and you can’t help but feel for them in certain situations. The story is very chill and simple, as is the animation and music. But if you’re in the mood for something that’s going to blow your mind, or totally make your jaw drop, then this anime is not for you.

6 tortes outta 10!