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This anime should have an award for such a deceptive title. I mean it is accurate, but most people reading the title would get the impression that it's just another horndog Ecchi anime. But it's not. I mean there are moments that some ecchi things happen, but they're mostly comedic. But honestly it's more than that, it has that ample amount of awkward romance and wholesomeness that it just works. I don't think it's something really deep or whatnot, it's got a few cliches. But the thing about cliches is, they exist because they work. While normally it'd feel corny to even me, somehow this ... thing in this particular story works for me. I love it. Also can't forget about the characters, so relatable to me as an avid book reader. Specially my man Mizuto, when he says, "The world of fiction was real to me, and the reality just felt like fabrication." STRAIGHT UP BARS. Now I know most people will find this thing corny, but it's just a me thing.

"I'm fine" said he after suppressing all his emotions, because he's scared of what might happen if he let go. He's scared that the ones he love will go away. He's scared of what others might think. He's scared of everyone. But actually the only thing he's scared of is himself.
Mob Psycho 100 has became one of my favourite stories. One can go on and on about its sick animations, action choreography or art style.
However I want to talk about the theme of this story. It's about an OP boy named Kageyama Shigeo aka Mob who is scared of his own powers. He tries hard ... to keep them in control so that he doesn't hurt anyone. One can think of his powers as a metaphor for his emotions. He's scared that if he shows them to anyone, they might not like him. However on the contrary in the series, we see Mob making friends and having adventures with the very same powers. The problem was, Mob saw the powers as something external rather than something within him, something that was a part of him. Rather than avoiding them or control them, he just had to accept and feel them. That was the whole story about. We see a lot of stories saying "Oh they just have to accept themselves" while not knowing what it means or how it's done. No one knows how it's done, everyone's different, so everyone have a different way of accepting oneself. But the first step is to always acknowledge, to try, no matter how, and don't supress the emotions, let it out. That's all I have to say.

I just finished Komi Can't Communicate by Tomohito Oda—a series that’s been with me on and off for almost five years now. After the non-stop adventure of One Piece, I was looking for something more laid-back and heartfelt, and Komi’s world delivered exactly that.

As an introvert, I found Komi’s struggle to connect incredibly relatable. Though I don’t have a communication disorder, watching her move from silence to self-expression—first by jotting down her thoughts and then, bit by bit, speaking—felt like a personal journey of growth. The story is simple, centered on high school life and the everyday challenge of making friends, yet it manages to ... pull off both lighthearted humor and moments of real emotional impact.

Speaking of Tadano Hitohito, he’s my favorite character. His charm lies in his delightful averageness—he isn’t superhuman or extraordinary in the usual sense, and that makes him wonderfully genuine. It’s refreshing to see a character who reminds us that being normal is perfectly okay and even heroic in its own way. Komi herself, with her gradual transformation from near-total silence to forming full conversations, is not just adorable but also profoundly inspiring. I still get chills thinking about the moment she and Tadano first communicated using chalk on a blackboard—a simple, yet beautifully executed scene that captures the magic of a budding friendship.

Then there’s the rest of the cast—hundreds of uniquely quirky characters who each bring their own flavor to the story. Oda Tomohito deserves major kudos for creating a world where every character, no matter how eccentric, feels both distinct and endearingly real.

In the end, Komi Can't Communicate isn’t just a manga—it’s a gentle reminder that despite our insecurities and quirks, there’s beauty in every connection we make. It spreads a subtle, unintentional positivity that encourages us to embrace our imperfections and celebrate the wonderfully odd nature of human relationships.