When it comes to being an ecchi, does this anime bring anything new to the table? Well… kind of. This isn’t your average slice-of-life “oops, I walked into the bathroom without knocking and now the heroine’s gonna screech like a banshee and kick me in the nuts” type of story. Takamine-san has a power—she can rewind time by taking off her underwear. Weird? Absolutely. But it’s an ecchi anime—what the hell did you expect?
The author introduces this bizarre mechanic but doesn’t really use it for anything remotely clever or innovative. The entire plot boils down to the MC being Takamine’s literal lapdog. Yep, that’s it. Just him putting up with her constant shenanigans.
“But why the hell would he choose to be her lapdog?” you might ask. Well,because she threatens him with a fucking FAKE RAPE ACCUSATION. We’ve officially hit a new level of the “smug teaser” heroine trope. Think Takagi-san was too smug? Nagatoro too annoying? Uzaki-chan too bratty? Brother, you haven’t seen shit until you meet Takamine-san.
Let’s talk characters. Takamine is not a good person by any stretch of the imagination. She’s manipulative and cruel, constantly abusing her power to bend the world to her will. In summary, she’s a bitch—and not even the fun kind. Her entire personality revolves around being hot and fuckable. She teases, she seduces, and she floods everyone’s minds with lewd thoughts. That’s it. That’s her depth.
Then there’s the MC, Shirota. Take every ecchi protagonist you’ve ever seen—combine the worst traits from all of them—and crank it up to a thousand. That’s Shirota. A weak, whiny little bitch with a voice that sounds like someone’s crushing his Adam’s apple every time he speaks. He’s easily one of the most punchable MCs in recent anime memory. Kazuya from KanoKari looks like fucking Johan Liebert compared to this guy.
Now, about the ecchi content—it’s just plain boring. Standard panty and tit shots, nothing new. Even the uncensored version didn’t do shit. No blood rush. No heat. No pulse. No ragged breath. And this willy? Definitely not wonking. While other ecchi shows will pour their entire budget into crafting curvy, visually enticing fan service, this show feels like it’s just going through the motions. Honestly, they should’ve named it “Please DON’T Put It On, Takamine-san” or “Please Take It All Off, Takamine-san” because Takamine getting stripped every episode would’ve been a better showcase of ecchi than whatever half-assed effort the show currently makes.
Animation? Let’s just say it’s inconsistent at best. One second it looks decent, and the next you’re staring at a face where the mouth is on the damn nose. Asymmetrical faces, janky movement, and a laundry list of drawing errors—just a mess. Overall? Below average.
Now, here’s where the show doesbsurprise: the music. The opening theme absolutely slaps. I didn’t expect a low-effort ecchi dumpster fire like this to drop such a banger. Props to the singer—they were probably the only person in the production who gave a shit. They poured their soul into that track, and honestly, it’s the only thing that stood out as genuinely great.
Overall,Takamine-san is one hell of a strange ride. On one hand, it’s got a unique premise with the whole "rewind time by removing underwear" gimmick—something you don’t see every day, even in the ecchi genre. On the other hand, it squanders that uniqueness on a one-note plot, a toxic-as-hell heroine, and an MC who might as well be a walking doormat with a voicebox.
The art direction is shaky, the fanservice is uninspired, and the power dynamic is so lopsided it might trigger actual psychological recoil. Yet, for all its flaws, there’s an odd appeal to it. Maybe it’s the absurdity. Maybe it’s the unapologetic degeneracy. Or maybe it’s just watching the chaos unfold like a flaming dumpster on wheels.
This show will absolutely please a certain type of viewer—specifically, subby weebs with a humiliating kink. If you're into getting stepped on emotionally, Takamine is basically your dream domme. But if you're a dom-type weeb? Avoid this show like the plague unless you want steam pouring out of your ears and a deep urge to throw your screen across the room.
So yeah, it’s not quite “watch this masterpiece” but it’s also not “burn it with fire.” It exists in that weird grey zone of guilty pleasures, cursed curiosities, and “what the actual fuck did I just watch?”. Proceed at your own risk.
