Review of Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku

Wotakoi exudes the refreshing confidence of a story that deals with working adults rather than high schoolers. When dealing with amatory matters, Wotakoi is a damn sight more graceful and insightful than anime treatments of romance tend to be, the result of following characters with greater maturity, perspective, and experience than the standard oblivious teenagers. Nonetheless, while it establishes its central relationships with frank efficiency, the show doesn’t always convey the depth and warmth in those relationships that would make the statement in the title resonate. Love is hard for Love is Hard for Otaku. With the youngest of the four protagonistsbeing Narumi and Hirotaka at 26, Wotakoi’s quartet is comfortably lodged in adulthood already. These characters are settled into their hobbies and are well-invested in them; Koyanagi has an established reputation as a cosplayer, and Narumi enjoys some success as a doujinshi creator. They have inveterate tastes that they exhibit with the ease of people who have been otaku for the better part of two decades instead of just a couple of years, with Narumi functioning as the fujoshi, Hirotaka the gamer, Koyanagi the cosplayer, and Kabakura the guy who is deluded into thinking that he is comparatively normal but still loves Yuru Yuri at the age of 28. They all have regular office jobs (the same one, apparently) and can financially support themselves and their extracurricular activities. The lack of classrooms and uniforms and homework is, if only replaced by offices and business attire and overtime, a breath of fresh air.

Koyanagi has a self-possessed coolness that frequently rings hollow in younger characters, Kabakura’s seniority grants him some measure of actual authority, and Narumi’s infectious fangirl passions can drive her into 18+ territory without, as we might find in high school anime, vague suspicions that this might be inappropriate content for the characters. Even Hirotaka, a familiarly nondescript and inexpressive character, comes off as a purposeful recluse who does take note of himself and his environment to a greater degree than we might think, whereas a traditional high school context might have made him more of a caricature. No one is safe from miscommunication, self-deception, oblivious behavior, and petty disputes, but Wotakoi’s characters can handle themselves and their issues more adroitly than the usual cast of inexperienced adolescents.

In addition to the “adult” side of its characters, Wotakoi grasps the “otaku” side with understanding and aplomb usually absent from attempts to capture the quirks and feelings of a particular subculture in media (even if it’s that medium’s own subculture, there’s no guarantee of success). The games that Narumi has to play to sniff out fellow otaku at work, Kabakura’s stubbornness in maintaining his preferential integrity, Hirotaka’s uncharacteristically playful text-speak with Narumi, the jarring gravity well of encountering a regular person after too much time in the esoteric hobbyist sun, and the freeing therapy of having friends around whom you can express your true self are all true-to-life by my reckoning, and the numerous scenarios pulled from everyday life as a nerd, as well as references to properties like Evangelion and Cardcaptor Sakura, demonstrate some firsthand knowledge and love on the part of the creator(s). With each of the four leads representing a different subsubculture, as mentioned above, Wotakoi has plenty of opportunities to explore the habits and proclivities of its audience.

Where Wotakoi falters is in its amorous aspects. It’s true that Hirotaka and Narumi have excellent chemistry: they open up to each other right away and from then on become an inseparable and complementary duo. Likewise, though Koyanagi and Kabakura launch into shouting matches at the drop of a hat, their underlying affection never evaporates. What we don’t see are the big questions, the real fights, and the serious romance, which are only hinted at or glossed over in the show and need some presence if Wotakoi wants to distinguish itself as “Love is Hard for Otaku” instead of “Friendship is Easy for Otaku.” The title of episode two asks, “Are We Now Dating?”, and that’s a question whose circumspect response only approaches closure at the end of the series. In a pair of pairings that seem to have formed out of convenience – convenience for the characters, not for the story, which is a good thing – questions arise regarding the exact nature and future of these relationships.

Love really IS hard for otaku: in the case of Koyanagi and Kabakura, each party has made compromises to maintain a relationship with someone who can put up with their hobbies, and in the case of Narumi and Hirotaka, the two seem to hang out because they support each other’s pursuits and can facilitate the other’s professional success, as if it were an expedient business practice (Hirotaka’s first-episode “confession” was certainly more of a business proposal than anything else). Being part of such an active, obsessive subculture can make relating to outsiders difficult, or at least tiresome, so it’s not unrealistic that people would gravitate towards each other based on these superficial similarities. Those connections make for great friendships, though not necessarily lasting relationships. I wish that the characters displayed a bit more interest in each other as partners rather than pals.

Koyanagi and Kabakura, a veteran couple whom we know have been dating for about a decade now, don’t have much problem being affectionate with each other, relatively speaking; we see Koyanagi stealing kisses, Kabakura making clumsy but well-meaning gestures, and the two of them spending a lot of time together in the quiet manner attributable to couples who feel at home simply doing nothing in the same place. They’re clearly comfortable enough to trade vitriol when they’ve wheedled or casually insulted each other too much (with Koyanagi cutely shouting “BAKAKURA!”), and they know where to hit to make it hurt and how to placate the other side when it’s all over. But the show passes up many opportunities to look beyond the surface level and explore what makes this a fundamentally stable, loving partnership.

In episode 4, a distraught Koyanagi tearfully demands to know if Kabakura has “settled” for her; knowing that she isn't his “type,” she harbors doubts about whether their relationship has any firm foundation. Showing her in such an uncharacteristically vulnerable state, Wotakoi proves itself willing to ditch its often contented perspective to dig into some problems unique to the premise. Yet as Koyanagi breaks down, venting these insecurities that have apparently plagued her for a long time, Kabakura keeps his lips sealed. He gently chastises her for causing a scene, essentially dismissing her frustrations as drunk talk – not that he’s mean to her, because he is clearly sympathetic, but he totally whiffs on demonstrating his love for his long-term girlfriend. We don’t get the heart-to-heart where they express how they actually FEEL about each other. We don’t see them acknowledge that they’re together because of mutual love, not just mutual pastimes. Maybe the two of them have been through this before, but the audience hasn’t. To let Koyanagi’s entreaties go unanswered is to leave us wondering if she has stumbled upon an unfortunate truth that sours the tone of the show.

Narumi and Hirotaka have a different sort of relationship: one that leans toward platonic companionship. We almost never see the two of them in any kind of romantic context; they’re always joined by Koyanagi and Kabakura, or they’re playing video games like they did as kids, or they’re sabotaging through their own awkwardness the rare personal moments they do find. The shared interest in otaku culture, even broadly, is a big part of their chemistry – Narumi and Hirotaka can be themselves while they’re around each other, they understand each other’s peculiarities, and they can support each other’s dungeon crawling and Comiket preparations – and these things are very important, but where does the “love” in “Love is Hard for Otaku” come in? Narumi might get jealous of Hirotaka’s popularity or flustered by his occasional forwardness, but such scenes feel like obligatory reactions, not reflective of Narumi personally; she did walk into this relationship unexpectedly, it’s true, so this might be a lot to ask, but I had hoped that an anime about adults would be a little less anime about everything.

Hirotaka has been crushing on Narumi for years, as a few melancholy flashbacks establish, so his feelings are reasonably clear. Narumi has a few affectionately shaded moments, but little to suggest that she returns Hirotaka’s feelings. It feels like the two of them are masquerading as boyfriend and girlfriend because they each need someone to fill that role and they get along well, rather than because they’ve found legitimate life partners in each other. Sure, that’s how some relationships are in real life, and that’s really how the first episode presents it, and it’s not as though a close friendship itself is insignificant – but I don’t want to watch a romantic comedy about people who will hang out for a while because they’re good company and go their separate ways once the fun has been had. I want to see Hirotaka de-unrequite his love. Narumi has found someone who accepts her for who she truly is, and now I want to see something greater come from that. If we’re meant to believe that, however hard it may be, love – not brotherhood – between otaku is ultimately sustainable, I want to see evidence of a future in this relationship. I want to hear one character say the words “I love you” to another. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Hirotaka is 26 and he can’t hold his girlfriend’s hand. Maybe this is set in high school after all.

Still, Wotakoi does throw us a bone now and then. The characters go on dates, they buy each other gifts, they spend quality time together, they acknowledge each other as girlfriend and boyfriend... I wish that things could be clearer and more satisfying, but as I opened this review by saying, this show still has a serious leg up on most of its competition. Overall, I’m thrilled with the easy companionship these characters have with each other and the fun that they share.

Visually, Wotakoi has middling production values: generally good, with nothing that stands out as being egregiously under-animated; the episodes vary in quality and some scenes are just a little off-model or bare-bones. Nothing matches the OP in terms of quality, though it is an unusually great OP, with some very fluid (and infectiously adorable) dance routines from the starring couples set to a cool, catchy, relaxing tune that matches the tone of the show. The color scheme of pink, blue, green, and orange is a little weird at first, but it works well for the characters.

In a cast that includes Miyuki Sawashiro, Tomokazu Sugita, and Yuuki Kaji, it’s Arisa Date who steals the spotlight as Narumi. Her eccentric, spirited delivery spans all the rapid tonal shifts and quirky affectations that would be characteristic of an energetic girl like Narumi, especially when gushing about her passions to her close friends. Taking a very close second is Aoi Yuuki, whose clipped, husky reading of Kou’s lines makes for the most painfully accurate expression of social anxiety I’ve seen this side of WataMote. Kou is hands-down my favorite character and it is a true shame that she only gets introduced in the second-to-last episode. I am ready for my three-cour spin-off anime about Kou’s daily life. I want to see a Kou-On! that’s just about Kou sitting around, playing video games, and drinking tea.

Overall, Wotakoi is a great series, and in spite of a few unengaging story lines, some potential for better production, and how long I’ve spent bemoaning what I perceive to be its shortcomings, it offers an all-too-rare alternative to the billions of cookie-cutter high school romance anime that for all intents and purposes characterize the medium of anime in its present form better than almost anything else.