နွေရာသီဟစ်ဂျီယပ်သည် Hikanatsu ၏မြင်ကွင်းနှင့် Enshutsu anime ၏အယူအဆကိုသေဆုံးသွားသည်

Even with more measured delivery, the fourth episode continues to unravel the mysteries about the village in a compelling way. Rather than the adventures of Yoshiki and “Hikaru”, though, it’s about time we mention the part of the story that has seen the most fundamental changes in the anime. As far as the manga is concerned, both the reader and protagonist spend a fair amount of time completely in the dark, without any idea of the truth about the nature of “Hikaru” and how that relates to local beliefs, rituals, and the past. Contrary to that, the anime immediately dangles a parallel narrative thread. One that features adults in the village scrambling to solve this issue, the mysterious Tanaka, and even the existence of a company with an eerie desire to control the supernatural.

The loss of the disorienting feeling in the early stages of the original is a genuine shame. There is real value to the mystique you can only evoke when the audience doesn’t even know what it doesn’t know, merely feeling that they’re lost in a scary place. However, Mokumokuren and Takeshita’s interesting justifications make it easier to buy into this change. In spoon.2Di vol.125, the author confirms that they were the one who asked for Tanaka’s introduction to happen much earlier. With a second chance to visit their own story, they wanted to showcase the width of its world faster than they originally unraveled. Despite being a very particular creator and thus likely to plan ahead as much as possible, it’s clear that HikaNatsu‘s scope grew a bunch after its earliest stages. With the anime, Mokumokuren hopes to encompass all of it from the beginning, as opposed to a manga where you’re confined to specific viewpoints and plotlines at the beginning.

A fair stance, though it’s Takeshita’s input—as someone who was also onboard with this change—that I find most interesting. The director instead framed it in relation to the fact that the HikaNatsu anime doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The manga blew up in popularity coming out of nowhere, from a completely unknown author. The readers who stumbled upon it were immediately hooked by its initial twist, spreading the series through word of mouth to equally unprepared newcomers. Compared to that, this anime adaptation is being released at a point where HikaNatsu is a massive hit. Even if you haven’t read it, chances are that you’ll at least know about the gooey nature of “Hikaru”; and if you don’t, any promotional video for the anime will show as much. Since this environment lessens the original hook, he was partial to frontloading the mystery aspects so that new viewers felt strongly drawn to the series, even if they were already familiar with the imagery that once shocked readers. Again, I believe that the manga’s progression is more effective, but you can’t deny that a lot of thought went into this adaptation.

The sixth episode is instead led by an in-house regular in FuKarenki Kataoka, assisted in episode directionEpisode Direction (演出, enshutsu): A creative but also coordinative task, as it entails supervising the many departments and artists involved in the production of an episode – approving animation layouts alongside the Animation Director, overseeing the work of the photography team, the art department, CG staff… The role also exists in movies, refering to the individuals similarly in charge of segments of the film. duties by Shinya Kawabe. It begins on a more contemplative note, leaning on tricks like associating the movement across physical space to metaphorical sliding in and out of memories, as well as shifts in tone. You can only go so far in this show before things get really tense, though, and so that calmer delivery makes way for more unsettling framing. “Hikaru” feels like a member of their group of friends at school may have found out about its nature and nearly kills her, being stopped at the last second by Yoshiki. The latter is forced to accept that the person he cared for is long gone, replaced by a creature who doesn’t even comprehend the concept of life, let alone its weight. To complete HikaNatsu’s contradictory puzzle, the episode dedicates a gorgeous sequence to illustrate the world as perceived by this otherworldly being. At a point where Yoshiki fears “Hikaru” may be beyond redemption, with inhumanity becoming synonymous with ruthlessness, there is so much beauty to its perception. Mokumokuren can rest assured—this show really gets the conflicting nature they wanted to capture.

Following up on that, episode #07 marks the return of Takeshita to storyboarding duties. This was an episode brought up by multiple staff members as the one they’d been looking forward to, and it’s easy to understand why. It’s also among the ones that begin on a quieter note, but you can immediately tell that something is off. That numb dread continues until we see that, in his desperation to take responsibility for the monster he has been hiding, Yoshiki attempts to kill “Hikaru”. The most viscerally upsetting moment in Takeshita’s delivery isn’t Yoshiki’s failure to do so, but “Hikaru” responding by tearing himself apart, making himself less dangerous so that he can remain with Yoshiki. As he accepts this deal, proposing to research its true nature, Takeshita’s direction takes a turn for the ominous; did you expect a comforting, pleasantly romantic framing? Sorry, we do things a bit messier over here.

Through his contributions to anime like 86, KoiAme, and G-Witch’s first cours, Ryo Ando has become a bit of a favorite on this site; and for the record, because of Pripara and Love Live as well, since those are the ones that actually tell us about his directorial school. Skilled as he is, being entrusted with an episode sandwiched by high-priority moments in the story forced him to take a more moderate stance for HikaNatsu #08. Regardless, you can still feel his compositing-focused direction with a particularly red sunset; dyed in the blood corresponding to the first murder by “Hikaru”, with consequences it still isn’t capable of understanding. Those two aren’t the only ones casting eerie shadows either, as Tanaka has investigated enough to find out that they’re involved with the supernatural happenings in the village. As its ghoul nearly catches them, the usual unnatural sound is accompanied by appropriately inhuman movement.

While other regulars had to assist him this time around, episode #09 marks the return of Oosako to directorial duties. This seems to confirm the suspicion that he’s a very effective sponge. Not one that regurgitates the exact same tricks used around it, but rather one that absorbs from its surroundings and synthesizes new things. Using the camera’s physical traversal (and putting that reference footage to good use) to transition through different points in time is something we’ve observed in previous episodes, but Oosako’s touch makes it all more gripping. Even the supernatural equivalent of a heads-up can become an unsettling relay of techniques. The reason why the staff were particularly giddy about the broadcast of this episode, though, was to feast upon people’s reactions as the protagonists’ investigation is truncated… and so is someone’s head, when Tanaka arrives and beheads “Hikaru”. Oh dear.

The tension from that event immediately carries over to episode #10, which was effectively co-produced by studio NUT. Its mainstay creators Yutaka Uemura and Hitomi Taniguchi storyboarded it, and the studio was involved in its management as well, so it’s fair to say that it draws a meaningful amount from a different company altogether. There’s always a risk of diluting your carefully crafted identity when reaching out, but the first scene should be enough to lessen those worries. Again, you only need to witness the role of sound in establishing the chaos of the moment. As the two recover, surprisingly left alone by Tanaka, the episode leans on striking imagery to give some spice to the investigation of the legends behind “Hikaru”. Even in that regard, it understands that it would be a betrayal of HikaNatsu’s identity if they uniformly stuck to a more standard style. By using the adaptation’s favorite tools and boarding a few remarkable shots, an episode conceived elsewhere manages to slot in nicely within this show. Better than the actual outsiders do in this village, at any rate.

And indeed, this feel-good moment ends halfway through the episode. Through the neck wound Tanaka left as a present to “Hikaru”, its most dangerous instincts begin leaking. With it, and under the direction of Aimi Yamauchi, so do the more radical stylistic choices; the Hiraoka-like morphing horrors, the aggressive sound direction, and involved camerawork to enhance the chase. Although the situation is quickly under control, “Hikaru” is shocked over having come close to harming Yoshiki yet again. It may lack a human grasp of mortality, but it understands that Yoshiki’s death would put an end to a relationship it treasures. And so, it makes a decision: it’ll leave this village, hopefully attracting all the supernatural beings away from Yoshiki in the process. Incidentally, the production of this episode was managed by friend of the site Hayato Kunisada aka eichiwai, which explains the much higher participation of animators recruited online. Solid job, at a point where the schedule had clearly decayed.

The situation wasn’t any easier for Takeshita in the finale, but that didn’t stop him from writing, storyboarding, and directing it on his own. Right off the bat, he nails the melancholy of a planned goodbye. His casual emphasis on the elements that represent the end of a school term coincides with “Hikaru” bidding goodbye to everything that has conformed its human-like routine for the entire show. Subtlety has hardly been his game across this project, though, so he quickly shifts to the real footage he recorded in the setting to depict “Hikaru” and Yoshiki’s promised trip to the ocean. This, of course, recontextualizes the show’s ending sequence—one he directed and storyboarded himself as well. While its mixed media and focus on real-life locations had always felt fitting for the HikaNatsu anime, it’s only with the details revealed by the final episodes that the meaning of their destination (and their clothes!) hits.

The final conversation between the two leads starts with ingenious Takeshita storyboarding. As “Hikaru” talks about its otherworldly nature to make a point about needing to leave, the camera travels through a body overlaid with nightmarish textures. However, when it reveals that this is something it wants to do to keep Yoshiki safe, it pulls away from its eye to reveal a regular, kind-looking boy. Although Mokumokuren keeps denouncing human values as the absolute, singular form of goodness, there’s no denying that the being hidden in Hikaru’s body is dangerous. And so, it doesn’t feel like a misstep to use its inhuman appearance to signal threats.

That said, Yoshiki is in too deep to accept a safe, standard human life. He’s someone who has always felt like a bit of a monster who hides his real self—our poster boy for internalized homophobia—and thus felt kinship for a being like “Hikaru”. Through imagery that is reminiscent of previous visual synthesizations of societal pressure, his reflection appears to agree with this proposal. And by his reflection, I mean a deeply unsettling figure with its mouth swapped for a real person’s; thanks for the nightmares, Takeshita. After his refusal to part ways (and a fight that mirrors one he had as a child with the real Hikaru), Yoshiki embracing his own twisted feelings is conveyed through the overlap of a clearly drawn silhouette over that photorealistic body. Again, the two natures that always coexist in HikaNatsu. As they swear to remain together despite their messy situation, their moment of intimacy is likely animated by the superlative Takashi Kojima. It’s rougher work than we’re used to from him, though understandably so given the circumstances of the production. But most importantly, it captures how much this relationship means for both of them.

That puts an end to an excellent first season of HikaNatsu; not without its flaws and limitations, but so inspired as an adaptation that those become minor inconveniences at worst. Again, this isn’t to say that we shouldn’t hope for the better—especially given that the timing for the sequel will be somewhat tricky. It’s worth pointing out that Mokumokuren planned the series around 10 volumes, with this show adapting the first five thus far. The immediate announcement of a sequel makes it sound like it’ll come in the form of a second season, which would complete the series while keeping a consistent sense of pacing.

How could they adapt events that won’t be published until late 2026 or perhaps even 2027 and still broadcast it in a timely fashion, though? The arrangement could be as simple as Mokumokuren sharing undisclosed information with them. A detail we’ve neglected to mention is that something along those lines has already happened. The specifics of the design for characters like Yoshiki’s mother were something that the author was particular about; after all, she’s meant to feel like an outsider whom the village never accepted. Despite being around for the early events, the manga avoided depicting her face for a long time, meaning that she didn’t have a visible design by the time the production of the anime started. Given that its team found it necessary to feature her properly—obscuring her face constantly might have come across more unnaturally than in the manga—Mokumokuren sent them extensive design sheets for a character manga readers had yet to see properly.

Of course, sharing a design and detailing the entire story aren’t quite on the same level, but I have my suspicions that Mokumokuren has already been instructing Takeshita in that regard. The two have worked too closely to keep secrets, especially given that a lack of knowledge about future events could have caused accidental incongruences in the anime. Since it’s clear that they always planned a full adaptation, and considering how we’re dealing with an author who plans everything obsessively, I would bet on this being their strategy; otherwise, they immediately announced a sequel that everyone would have to wait 3+ years for. This strategy would allow for a timely release of the sequel, though with a bit of an unforgiving production schedule attached to it. We’ve seen what this team could accomplish with limited resources and time, but as the story gets even crazier, I’d love to see more confident support from the studio and committee. Let this team cook something unsettling, bewitching, and possibly deadly for all of us.

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