2025 Winter Anime Three-Episode Check-In

Happy new year of anime! The stars of this season are stories about girls and women facing down crushing expectations and refusing to let go.

The team split up the three-episode reviews between staff volunteers, with one person putting together a short(ish) review on each series. Like we do with our check-in podcasts, we started from the bottom of our Premiere Digest list and worked our way up.

If we didn’t watch a show for at least three episodes, we skipped it, and we’ve used nice bold headers to help you quickly jump to the shows you’re interested in. We’ve also excluded shows that are continuing on in basically the same vein as our premiere review to conserve space. Unless specifically noted, we will not be mentioning overt spoilers for anything beyond episode three.

We don’t have the time to keep up with everything, so please let us know about any gems we might be missing in the comments!

Wondering, “hey, where’s the show I’m into?!” As we mentioned, we’re not able to cover everything every season—but we’d like to. In fact, we made it a funding goal. So you can make your dream a reality!

“Staying the Course” Digest

We’ve watched at least three episodes of these shows; however, they’re not doing anything dramatically different in terms of themes, characters, etc., so there isn’t anything new to write about them. Please check out the premiere review for details:

• OKITSURA: Fell in Love with an Okinawan Girl, but I Just Wish I Know What She’s Saying
• Sorairo Utility

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Momentary Lily

Alex: Momentary Lily takes a turn in its second episode—I feel like it wants me to be shocked and intrigued by its hard pivot towards its more violent and dangerous aspects, but I’m mostly just repelled. Poor Big Sis, the nexus point of the show’s fan service, is attacked by two giant robot-alien-monsters and quickly realizes she’s out of her depth. Her usual lofty tone and bravado vanishes and the audience is treated to a weirdly long and weirdly voyeuristic action scene in which she flees for her life, crying, drooling, and screaming for help… all while the camera sweeps over her thighs and skirt hem, and her bust jiggles in all directions. 

The emphasis on her terror, while throwing all this sexualized imagery at the audience, is viscerally unpleasant to watch. Between her gooey-looking tears and the uncanny motion of her frightened, injured body, I almost want to use the word grotesque. There’s not even catharsis at the end of this awful scene—her friends swoop in to heroically rescue her, but then one of them dies instead. The third episode is all about grieving this loss… with another upbeat, chibi cooking sequence in the middle.

The juxtaposition between sci-fi action and cute food scenes was jarring in the first episode, but now it feels like that contrast is being used for a certain kind of shock value. “Aww, look how adorable these girls are! Now look on in horror as they suffer!” Maybe this isn’t the intention, but that’s certainly the effect. And in the immortal words of Tom Cardy featuring Montaigne, I think that’s a red flag.

I Want to Escape From Princess Lessons

Spoilers: Discussion of episode 4

Vrai: “Anime adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew” was not on my 2025 bingo card, I’ll tell you that for free. It’s unsettling, as shows that blur the line between malice and incompetence so often are. After a brief feint in which it seemed like Leticia might simply be dogged by her former fiancé while trying to live her best life, she’s now been kidnapped and barricaded in the castle. Every night she tries to escape, only to be caught by the prince; every day, a rotation of women come by to tell her how ungrateful she is to be turning down the prince’s thoughtful devotion, because he’s offered her every material comfort in exchange for meaningful agency over her life. 

It’s unclear to me what the overall goal of Princess Lessons is. Cut it open, and there are a tangle of potential stories it could have been, only to fail utterly. There’s a version like The Apothecary Diaries, about how women must barter their bodies for political agency, in which Leticia’s straightforward desire for freedom might be naïve in the face of rampant material suffering among the poor…except we’ve seen the common folk Leticia was hanging out with, and it seemed like a pretty sustainable life there that brought her joy. There’s a black comedy about horrible people like The Favourite, about how the process of bedroom politicking and social climbing poisons one’s ability to connect to others…except Leticia has no interest in politics and is far too earnestly sympathetic. There’s even a version that dives straight into unabashed yandere mindbreak fetish material a la [redacted]…except that, putting aside that a TV anime can’t commit to the single-minded purpose of hardcore, the mere sight of Prince Not Gimmick will surely render even the most dedicated onanist’s genitals more desiccated than a senator’s wife on date night.

It might even be one thing if Leticia was conflicted about her feelings for Prince Humperdork. There would still be something to dissect there about how girls are pressured to abandon their dreams and settle for heteronormative mediocrity packaged as an ideal, but at least it would have the general shape of a romance. Instead, Leticia monologues to the camera at every opportunity about how skeeved out and frustrated she is that everyone is ignoring her; she has nightmares about her wedding that are very affecting as horror, like the production crew is just as uncomfortable as we are. And then an older woman comes along and browbeats Leticia into admitting that maybe her captor is a Nice Guy after all and she’s being kind of a bitch by asking for things like “self-determination” and “the right to consent” when he built her a game preserve and all. The prince gallantly agreeing not to violate Leticia’s physical boundaries until their wedding is not actually gallant when marital rape is still barreling down the pipeline! It’s the most genuinely upset I’ve been watching a seasonal show in ages; Gaslight with color palette by Mattel and soundtrack by Benny Hill. I want someone to rescue this girl, and I know nobody will.  

Anyway, I’m Falling in Love with You

Content considerations: Dudes ignoring personal space; technically this takes place during the 2020 Covid lockdowns, though you’d never guess it from the aquarium outings and total lack of masks. Wouldn’t want to hide those generically handsome faces that are barely emoting at us, I guess.

Dee: “Longtime friends who fall in love” is a time-tested romantic trope that I’m 100% here for, but it really only works if both parties are secretly crushing on the other. If one friend presses the other against a wall and forces a kiss on them, the “doki-dokis” are gonna be from horror instead of romance.

Fortunately, Mizuho does have legitimate feelings for Kizuki, and the pair’s dynamic becomes more reciprocal after Anyway’s premiere. Also fortunately, it doesn’t seem like every dude is into their gal pal: Shin may be trying to neg his way into Mizuho’s heart, but Airu is heavily implied to be gay and pining for Kizuki, and Shugo has a crush on his teacher. Both of which are their own cans of tropey worms, mind you, but at least there’s some variety to the drama.

Less fortunately, Anyway isn’t nearly as engaging as its romantic entanglements make it sound. I’m not sure how much I can attribute to the source material and how much to the lackluster adaptation, but this is a flat, expressionless series with blandly attractive people blandly flirting with each other. The production is stiff and frequently off-model, featuring some shots and animations that are awkward enough to be funny, but also kill the romantic tension. If you’re going to have a heart-pounding hug, then it had better look like two people actually embracing and not a pair of cardboard cutouts smashing into each other.

Anyway is almost messy enough to loop back around to being interesting, but my winter watchlist is stuffed with other shows, including a better shoujo school rom-com. Power to those who stick with this one, but I’m tapping out here.

I May Be a Guild Receptionist, But I’ll Solo Any Boss to Clock Out on Time

Content considerations: Alina’s coworker is a bit of a fujoshi stereotype and fantasizes about real people hooking up.

Dee: Alina’s delightfully stubborn, foul-mouthed energy continues from Guild Receptionist’s first episode into its second, sans the mildly leering camera of the premiere. The cast continues to expand, allowing Alina to play both straight-man and clown depending on the person. She and the responsible Jade play off each other especially nicely, providing a touch of rom-com chemistry to the shenanigans.

The series continues to be sympathetic to desk jobs and the difficulties of customer service, as Alina defends her coworkers from violent (male) adventurers and must risk her life just to get the guild to adequately staff its headquarters. There’s a touch of social critique here, and the show is at its best both comedically and thematically when it focuses on Alina’s day-job highs and lows.

The third episode loses some luster, as much of the focus shifts from office comedy to a rote fantasy dungeon-crawl, complete with traumatic backstories, cackling villains, and evil bosses. I’m still here for at least another episode, but if Guild Receptionist decides to focus on uninspired dramatic action at the expense of its comedic and lightly satirical charm, it’s going to lose my attention quickly.

AQUARION Myth of Emotions

Vrai: I might be the only person watching Aquarion MOE, which is just as well because it’s rapidly sliding into the the particular flavor of “ambitious failure” that only I enjoy. The writing is a mishmash of classic “no thoughts, just feels” Kawamori logic and stilted technobabble, so an expository lecture about multiverse theory sits right next to musings about how our teen protagonists are all missing various emotions and meld their hearts together to pilot the big robot. It’s goofy in a way that’s mostly endearing but occasionally falls hard on its face—like the assertion that all human atrocities are caused by psychological warfare from aliens who want to overtake our dimension, for instance.

The character work is where the show ought to live and breathe, but it’s a clear victim of a two-cour-era franchise being crammed into the current airing model. Sayo, the girl who died-but-didn’t in the first episode, lacks a sense of “self-love,” which has made her sacrificial to the point of self-harm. The way episode 2 goes on to pair that trait with imagery of carnations has interesting connotations about “ideal” girlhood. Then it kills her off for real immediately, chucking that theme right on out the window. It’s the kind of arc I could imagine working if stretched out to four or five episodes, but here there’s no time for events to breathe.

I’m kind of hanging on for Rimiya, who appears to have been someone’s younger sister in his previous life and has “empathy” as his missing emotion. If that sounds like a pipe bomb in narrative form, it almost certainly is! Rimiya does have a leg up on a lot of “broken” non-empathetic characters in that he’s able to intellectually work through what his comrades are feeling and understand it’s important to them. But at the end of the day, the function of the plot seems geared to returning its teens’ missing emotions, and it clearly lacks the time to have nuance on exploring what that might mean to them. And, of course, there are the continuing technical issues (the sound seems to switch from mono to stereo at random points, and there’s half-done lip synch in the major CGI flashback scene). I’m going to keep watching for now, but I’m pretty sure I can’t recommend anyone else do the same.  

ZENSHU

Spoilers: Some discussion of episode 4.

Tony: Zenshu remains an absolute treasure of animation and writing, and much of what is delightful about the show has not changed. Natsuko remains a complete gremlin, and her complete refusal to tactfully accept the rules of engagement in this fantasy world remains hilarious. Unio is still carrying on the Gravity Falls tradition of Unicorns that Chose Violence, and watching a literal unicorn boy try to shame a woman for not conforming to gender roles remains absurd. The show is fun!

However, the show is also subtly beginning to explore feminist themes as it builds out its world. In episodes 3 and 4, Natsuko begins to unpack the fate of the female characters in A Tale of Perishing, who are seemingly treated as mysteries, afterthoughts, damsels, or plot devices for the protagonist Luke. Particularly interesting from a feminist point of view is Destiny, whose male gaze-oriented character design literally traps her in dangerous situations. It’s thrilling to watch Natsuko’s gender nonconformity and their friendship inspire Destiny to change her situation, rejecting the narratives that the original Tale was pushing on her. (Side note: it is hard to think of a character design less oriented to the male gaze than Natsuko’s.) Destiny’s episode, truthfully, was when I really felt the pieces of the show come together into something more thematically resonant. 

On the other hand, Memmeln’s story seems to be interested in critiquing what happens when women’s character arcs are either made an afterthought or a girl is more a mystery to be solved than a human being. (Looking at you, Steven Moffat). The way Memmeln’s arc is resolved wasn’t quite as satisfying to me in terms of long-term implications, especially given her arc hits on some pretty universal existential anxieties. Still, it does pay homage to Director Yamazaki Mitsue’s early career in a way that feels like a recentering of women’s creative and imaginative capacities in a narrative where they were largely ignored. Overall, Zenshu is heading in a direction that’s exactly where I wanted it to go, and it’s looking to be one of the best of the season.

Medalist

Dee: I considered logging this one as “staying the course,” since much of the charm and drama in the Medalist premiere continues into the next two episodes. Tsukasa remains a supportive coach and all-around human golden retriever, and Inori remains a sweet kid passionate about figure skating, even as she seesaws between anxiety and despair over starting so much later than the other kids.

That said, I did want to pop in to note that the cast has expanded, allowing the series’ central conflicts and ideas to come into clearer focus. In addition to Inori’s journey into the high-pressure world of figure skating, it also seems like Medalist is exploring the different relationships between coach and skater—and strongly highlighting how terrific Tsukasa is with Inori.

Where other coaches berate their skaters or outright fight them, our central pair have a trusting, communicative relationship. Inori feels safe talking to Tsukasa about her worries, and Tsukasa balances offering advice with encouraging Inori to make her own choices and grow as a skater. 

Admittedly, the narrative could stand to be a bit more critical about some of the adults’ unprofessional behavior (it’s played mostly for comedy, but I wasn’t too amused by a coach cursing a kid, even if the kid was cursing them right back). Still, it’s clear we’re meant to take Inori and Tsukasa as the ideal coach-skater relationship to emulate, and it’s a joy to watch them interact and grow each week.

Honey Lemon Soda

Dee: Honey Lemon Soda is the clear standout in the “high school romance” category this season, despite the love interest being a bit of a dick. As Cy noted in the premiere review, Uka’s awkward steps towards growth and healing form a strong emotional backbone, and the scenes of her interacting with her classmates, especially the chipper Endo, are warm and charming.

This would be an easy recommendation if not for our male lead, Kai. His character is all over the map (and downright grating) in the first two episodes: one minute he’s encouraging Uka to ask others for help and calling her a “gemstone,” and the next he’s insulting and berating her. Maybe it’s going for “tough love,” but it often feels like emotional manipulation.

Fortunately, Episode 3 makes a couple small but important adjustments. One, it more evenly balances the twin storylines of “Uka making friends” and “Uka falling in love,” so she spends more time interacting with the rest of the class. And two, it softens Kai enough that his bluntness comes across as “teenager bad at communicating” instead of “abuser-in-training.” 

Uka’s strong, swift attachment to Kai is a lot less concerning if (1) she’s also forming other healthy, supportive relationships and (2) Kai isn’t disparaging her in every other scene. I’m hoping the early character issues were just growing pains as the series found its footing. If the story continues along its Episode 3 tracks, I think this could shape up to be a sweet, Kimi ni Todoke-esque YA series.

From Bureaucrat to Villainess: Dad’s Been Reincarnated!

Spoilers: Some discussion of episode 4.

Vrai: I wavered over whether to put Villainess Dad on our “staying the course” digest, because in a lot of ways it’s still motoring along as a light comedy. It doesn’t have especially deep ambitions about looking into the Gender of its premise or the potential grief of our lead being torn away from the family he clearly loves with all his heart (a vibe that manga fan Chiaki confirms will continue). As Tony discussed, there’s a potential euphoria in watching Kenzaburo fall seamlessly into living Grace’s high femme life. It’s just more vibe than active thread. But I can’t bring myself to feel bothered by those untaken paths, because the show is just so good at its goodhearted goofiness.

There’s a pervasive, for lack of a better term, “non-shittiness” about the show’s writing decisions that endears me at every turn. At heart, it’s a story about sharing nerdy passion across generations, particularly from parent to child. But even though this is a seinen manga with a male lead, it has clear respect for the shoujo greats. Kenzaburo grew up reading all the popular shounen of his day, but he easily waxes poetic about the heritage of the blonde ringlet-curled rival in titles like Aim for the Ace, Glass Mask, and Candy Candy. He doesn’t know who his daughter’s fave is, but he’s hyped that she uses her merch with care. And his wife is easily convinced of her husband’s comatose isekai adventure because she grew up on a steady diet of the good shit classic genre entries like Fushigi Yugi and The Twelve Kingdoms. When otome tropes come up, there’s no sneering at them as stupid Girl Stuff; it’s all treated with affection, even if it’s framed more for an outsider looking to connect with these familiar beats. This is a show that knows its lane and is really good at sticking to it; if nothing else, you’ve got to take in the fabulous ending sequence.

Flower and Asura

Alex: Flower and Asura rolls gently along, pulling you into its emotive experience the same way the characters get pulled into the featured poems. While I don’t know much about the world of professional recitation, I can say that the series is painting a pretty effective portrait of teen insecurity in Hana. I’m still recovering from the resolution to the ferry dilemma in Episode 1, where Hana was so shy and so determined not to bother anyone that she’d simply never considered that asking for help was an option. Anticlimactic? In a sense, maybe, but also very real and certainly very relatable to my own experiences. 

Likewise, the following episodes touch on the tension she feels between wanting to compete and put her skills in the spotlight versus wanting to keep this precious hobby tucked up tight and away from public scrutiny—a huge mood for anyone who’s ever been young and anxious and/or considered monetizing or going pro at their passion projects. Episode 2 also nicely captures the sheer terror of joining a club and finding that everyone there has been at this activity since they were practically in the cradle and take it so, so frighteningly seriously. The show grounds this, again, in Hana’s headspace and in its soft realism, resisting the urge to go over-the-top with the side characters.

Speaking of characters, Hana makes a striking contrast to the brazen and easygoing Mizuki, who casually announces that she lives on her own because “it’s complicated”—something I hope the show comes back to and explores. The dynamic between the leads is very much “sheltered newbie pulled out of her shell by more confident girl, feat. yuri undertones,” which is fine and all, but the story would really benefit from making Mizuki more of a layered character, rather than simply being the human slingshot that flings Hana into her own character arc. It’s early days yet, though, and I have faith that Flower and Asura can get us there—it will probably just do it at its own slow, precise pace.