But what sets Ao-chan apart from the dumpster pile of typical romances? Allow me to demonstrate by using a scene from the series. In one episode, Ao’s father complains about why his daughter has only served him a bowl of plain rice for dinner. Ao dismisses him, and begrudgingly reaches out for a packet of MSG, then sprinkles it over his sad excuse of a meal. Her father’s eyes twinkle in excitement, and he wolfs down his “dinner,” visibly satisfied.
The takeaway: sometimes, all that’s needed to make a story work is to use what’s available, often hidden in plain sight. The answer lies in our female protag, Ao.
Some might argue that having a female MC in a romcom doesn't count as a refreshing change of pace (we have the likes of Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun and Konobi, after all). But to be served up a romance from the POV of a girl who’s a lowkey perv isn’t only refreshing — it almost feels like a rebirth of the genre itself.
Be that as it may, I’d like to point out that just like Ao’s packet of artificial flavoring, any improvements to the show are a cheap, last-minute recipe idea and fall short of delivering real romcom umami.
STORY
Ao-chan Can’t Study revolves around its titular character, Ao Horie, the daughter of a renowned erotic novelist. She’s named after a Japanese sex pun (aokan translates to “outdoor sex”) and the sound a woman makes when achieving an orgasm.
In a brief flashback in the opening scene of the anime, Ao shares this erotic tidbit of info as she introduces herself to her grade school classmates. She ends up teased by everyone in school and Ao throws herself into her studies, hoping she can one day enter a prestigious university far from the ridiculous antics of her father. Fast forward to the present day, and lo and behold: Ao is a straight-A student and misguided misandrist (“guys only want one thing and it’s freaking disgusting!”), who would much rather study than mingle with the pretentious crowd of “normies.”
Everything changes when she’s approached by Takumi Kijima (Ao labels him “King of the Normies”), who takes a genuine liking to her. But Ao’s cloistered and misinformed upbringing lead her to believe that he wants nothing more than to get in her pants. It doesn’t take very long for Kijima’s kind nature to melt Ao’s jaded outlook on men, and she starts developing a distracting crush on him. And this brings the primary conflict into play: the actual title of the show.
On paper, Ao-chan Can’t Study sounds nothing more than a generic plot tainted by idiocy. In fact, some may immediately write off the series as another sorry excuse for hypersexualized fanservice. I won’t lie, Ao-chan Can’t Study is plagued with light ecchi scenes (it’s what I dislike the most about this show, to be honest), but it manages to turn sex into a relevant plot point by exploring its impact on two curious teens without any experience in bed.
Had this been any other anime with a standard length of 20 minutes per episode, I would have given this show a harsher score. But since Ao-chan only has a brief, 11-minute runtime, it deserves credit for successfully balancing script, pacing, and character development into a fairly entertaining story. In particular, it uses its compressed episode length to portray Ao in relevant (sometimes naughty) situations that challenge her to identify the difference between lust and love.
The humor in this show is constructed around Ao’s knack for grossly misunderstanding the concept of sex and how it works, which she uses as a gauge to determine her compatibility with Kijima.
In the second episode, for instance, when Ao hears a “big hands, big dick” rumor in school, she automatically assumes that Kijima’s athletic persona is enough reason for him to be XL-sized. Later on in the episode, she accidentally grabs Kijima’s hand and realizes how big it is. In a fit of self-consciousness, Ao tells Kijima that her downstairs department simply lacks the space for the size of his crotch. Without chemistry in bed, she claims that they should dash all hopes of their “relationship” working out as early as now. But Kijima assures her that it’s natural for people to have apprehensions about sex, and shares that he has insecurities of his own.
The rest of the series follows a similar pattern of plot unraveling by way of busting “sex myths”, which serve to bring Ao and Kijima to a closer level of intimacy. The slapstick humor takes Ao’s ignorance lightly, and her overblown and eccentric reactions end up being legitimately funny.
Score: 6/10
CHARACTERS
The story unfolds from the perspective of Ao, who has lived her life covered by the white noise of eroticism. Her father’s career as a distinguished sex novelist has made her develop a cynical outlook towards men, which she views as mindless creatures driven solely by carnal lust. Even though she distances herself from the “normies” and has no interest in pleasantries, Ao is an object of curiosity among her peers, not disdain. In fact, her classmates look up to her because of her high grades, and this is exactly what draws Kijima to her in the first place.
As a foil to Ao’s hardened, cynical nature, I found Kijima rather bland in comparison. He’s soft-spoken, good-manned, and too nice for his own good — basically your typical, lovable jock. It’s standard romcom fare, nothing new to see here.
The distinct contrast in Ao and Kijima’s personalities work, and it makes sense that they’re attracted to each other. But Ao’s persona drastically changes after Kijima tells her that he’s a virgin.
She automatically uses this grand revelation to her tactical advantage, convincing herself that she has gained the upper hand in their relationship. All of her repressed sexual desires from her childhood come bursting at the seams, and she turns into a sex-starved teen awash with delusions of erotic grandeur. She conjures up images where she subjects Kijima to her wildest fantasies, and devises all sorts of ways to seduce Kijima to get into bed with her. During a study session, she suggestively draws a curved graph in Kijima’s notebook resembling her tits, convinced it would turn him rock hard and go down on her.
In other words, she turns into the very thing she hates: one of the “normies.”
I consider Ao’s sexual awakening a double-edged sword. Even though it has given her an obvious confidence boost, it has turned her into someone who looks down on other people simply because they are a virgin. It doesn’t matter if she grew up in a toxic household — virgin shaming is virgin shaming. And it needs to stop.
Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against a perverted female lead. It’s exactly what makes this show so much more refreshing than your typical romcom. But an overactive libido and looking down on someone who chooses to abstain from sex (by a potential love interest, might I add) are two completely different things. So different, in fact, because even though we’re a slave to our urges, we can most definitely control how we react to them. And for as long as the world is round, shaming someone for their sexual choices will never, ever be acceptable.
But for all my frustrations in Ao-chan’s virginity shaming issues, it still can’t hold a candle to the blazing conflagration that is Ao and Kijima’s chemistry. I’ve seen quite a number of romance anime, and there’s no couple as cute as these two (horny) lovebirds. Ao and Kijima are aware of their attraction to each other, and they share a mutual eagerness to please each other in bed. Despite Ao’s raging libido, however, they never really decide to casually hook-up because they’re sensible enough to acknowledge that neither one is emotionally and mentally prepared to take that next step in their relationship.
Even though the story is rather rough around the edges, Ao-chan still manages to keep the narrative cohesive and well-paced. In fact, the series has a proper conclusion, and it doesn’t leave you in thematic limbo where you have no other choice but to track down the manga to find out how the ships sail.
Other supporting characters include Ao’s father, who hilariously shifts from a careless, high-pitched voice during casual conversations with Ao to a mature, deep tone when dishing out sex advice to anyone within earshot. The rest of the other folks at school are forgettable, save for Ao’s childhood friend Miyabi who only exists to throw herself at Kijima and cause minor trouble.
Score: 4/10
ART
The art in Ao-chan Can’t Study is amazing, and it's animated by Silver Link. The only other anime I’ve seen by their studio is Bofuri, and I was similarly impressed by its colors and designs. Each frame in this show bursts with color, giving the dull school scenes a vibrant, upbeat atmosphere.
But what really makes the art stand out is its realistic and powerful depiction of facial expressions. The art isn’t carelessly done like the brief, comedic chibi inserts in Food Wars, which look like they’ve been drawn at the end of a weekly deadline. A lot of careful detail went into the show’s portrayal of character expressions. And rightfully so, as Ao-chan relies heavily on slapstick/reaction humor for its gags.
As for character designs, Ao is best described as Sakura Matou from Fate: Stay/Night with better eye art (for real, I only picked up this show because I mistook the poster for a Sakura Matou spinoff). Meanwhile, Kijima reminds me of Mafuyu Satou from Given (seriously, put them side by side, there’s no difference). But despite their similarities to other characters, Ao and Kijima manage to stay distinct in their own right.
The design for Ao’s father deserves a paragraph of its own, however. Unlike the rest of the characters, he’s portrayed as a funny looking, wide-eyed midget, and the way he’s drawn sticks out like a sore thumb. He sort of reminds me of Kero from Cardcaptor Sakura, but there’s nothing about him that’s funny or cute. He looks ridiculously out of place, and it cheapens the gravity of Ao’s childhood trauma caused by his perverted eccentricities.
Despite the design inconsistencies, I’ll have to give points for how well-animated and thematically congruent the OP is to the overall theme of the show. Despite its short series format, the OP isn’t just some lame slideshow of its main characters (looking at you, JC Staff) and it succeeds in setting the right tone.
Score: 7/10
SOUND
The OST for Ao-chan is bubbly and bright, as is expected from any romcom that we aren’t meant to take too seriously. During romantic scenes, however, it shifts to somber, acoustic medleys to set the right mood.
But the best part of the sound is the show’s opening theme, which is a fucking banger. You know what, I encourage you to stop reading and listen to WONDERFUL WONDER by Edoga Sullivan. It’s addictive and catchy, and I’ve lost count of how many times I had to rewind the OP just to listen to the song. It’s currently my third favorite romcom OP after Rent-a-Girlfriend and Kaguya-sama: Love is War. The ED isn’t quite as good, but it’s just as upbeat as the OP.
Score: 8/10
ENJOYMENT
Ao-chan Can’t Study was a truly entertaining watch. It’s the perfect show to binge on a weekend, and gives me hope that not all short-form anime lack substance or any real plot. If only more shows followed its no-frills storytelling approach by using its limited runtime to its advantage, then I’d have significantly less shows on my on-hold list. Far too many shows drag on with needless exposition and character drama.
With that said, I’ll be prioritizing other shows by Silver Link on my PTW just to gauge its ability to churn out quality content, regardless of genre. We need more shows like this.
Score: 7/10
FINAL VERDICT
Ao-chan Can’t Study is a short series ecchi romcom that uses its short length to deliver relevant gags that prop up Ao and Kijima’s love-lust relationship. It explores how sex influences the the dynamic of fresh-faced lovers without experience, portraying their apprehensions in an exaggerated yet realistic fashion.
While ecchi scenes pervade the narrative, it shouldn’t put off viewers simply seeking fluff. After all, Ao and Kijima quickly graduate from their timid, kink-laced interactions and establish a somewhat stable foundation for a genuine relationship by the show’s end.
FINAL SCORE: 7/10
