As a positively stacked summer lineup approaches, it’s time to look back at a spring anime season defined by hidden gems galore. Aside from an exception or two, there weren’t many unifying mega-hits this time around, and instead, we had a collection of series at risk of flying under the radar. There were band stories, plenty of sci-fi, the continuation of last season’s best show, and a whole bunch of excellent series with excellent female leads. Let’s run down the best anime of spring 2025.
Dishonorable Mention
Although I prefer to draw attention to what’s good instead of what isn’t, given my relatively positive review of Lazarus’ first few episodes, I’d like to offer my full opinion on the show with more of it having aired: unfortunately, it’s a bit of a disappointment. Despite some visceral animation and a few compelling moments—like a montage that indicts our collective failure to stop climate change—its drama is stilted, dialogue is awkward, and worst of all, its weekly missions are repetitive and unsatisfying. Some episodic series come together as greater than the sum of their parts (Cowboy Bebop), while others leave you wondering where the time went. Unfortunately, Lazarus is the latter.
Honorable Mentions
Over the last few weeks, Witch Watch has proven a breezy rom-com that makes the most of its wacky, magic-themed setups as Otogi ends up over his head due to Nico’s witchcraft. Basically, it nails both the rom (our central pair has a great relationship) and the com (its jokes are hilarious) parts of the equation. It also happens to arguably have the best opening of the season, which doesn’t hurt either.
There are few shows with a bigger heart than Wind Breakers, which is unexpected given that it’s about teen delinquents who love punching guys. As for what it’s about, instead of using their brawn for evil, the boys of Bofurin High use it to help those around them, as this series (perhaps unintentionally) convincingly portrays community-driven alternatives to policing. Add in this season’s best new character, the gender non-conforming Tsubako who demolishes thugs while wearing high heels, and the show continues to be an ode to acceptance (and hitting bad guys really hard).
There simply aren’t enough anime originals these days (i.e., shows not based on any source material), and Apocalypse Hotel is a perfect example of the infinitely unpredictable weirdness we’re missing out on due to this absence. Set 100 years after humanity fled Earth due to a primate-killing virus, the story centers on a hotel run entirely by robots. As Yachiyo, Gingarou Hotel’s acting manager, dutifully prepares for humanity’s supposed return, she eventually finds herself catering to a variety of interstellar guests who liven up this sole remaining beacon on Earth. Guests include slime guys, a genocidal dude named Harmaggeddon, and loveable Tanuki from outer space.
Pinning the series down to one genre is tough—it leans into slapstick comedy and episodic hijinks that range from Super Sentai fights to murder mysteries—but throughout this tonal rollercoaster, it never fails to hone in on the melancholic passage of time, as centuries pass for Yachiyo and her found family. It can be sincere and it can be zany, but most of all, its depiction of a post-human Earth is quite bittersweet. On top of this, it helps that CygamesPictures continues to showcase their talented animators, who amplify each gag and drive home the big emotional moments, such as when we see a graveyard of bots that broke down over the decades. Simply put, Apocalypse Hotel is one of this year’s biggest pleasant surprises.
As the barrage of great anime about all-girl rock bands continues (Bocchi The Rock, It’s My Go!, Girls Band Cry, etc.) Rock Is A Lady’s Modesty works as an aptly grungy B-side to this trend. Specifically, much like the last two seasons of BanG Dream! blasted apart the twee affectations of many “Cute Girls Doing Cute Things” shows, this series gives a stiff middle finger to norms as it eviscerates traditional gender roles. The story stars Lilisa, a high school student recently enrolled in a prestigious all-girls academy for elites. She makes quite a first impression, charming her classmates and teachers, but the truth is that deep down, she’s a commoner through and through, with her mother having recently remarried into the upper echelons. And while Lilisa tries to suppress her true feelings to maintain her perfect rich girl image for the sake of her mom, in reality, she loves nothing more than shredding on her electric guitar. It’s a habit she finally allows herself to indulge in once more after she strikes up a band with Otaha Kurogane, a model student who is secretly a monster on the drums.
As Lilisa meets a group of kindred music freaks, the series delights in 50 layers of homoerotic innuendo as our central pair get so worked up during their jam sessions that they explode into masochistic, expletive-filled tirades. While at first, this shouting-match dynamic seems like it could have devolved into a cheap gimmick, it works because the series is dedicated to portraying how these characters use music to break out of the gilded cage they’ve been placed in by their parents and society. And did I mention it’s quite queer-coded? Basically, every romantic and sexual attraction portrayed in the series is between women, which is another layer of how these characters push back on norms. While there are a few flubs here and there, like its fan-servicey portrayal of one of the band members, Rock Is A Lady’s Modesty is a great riff on rock’s historical role as counterculture.
I’m not sure what I was expecting from the somewhat misleadingly titled Kowloon Generic Romance, but a gripping sci-fi mystery about the intoxicating self-destruction of nostalgia certainly wasn’t it. The story follows Reiko, a woman who works for a real estate company in the world-famous Kowloon Walled City. Or, kind of, because within the first episode, we learn that this isn’t the original Kowloon but an elaborate recreation somehow tied to a floating structure in the sky. And we also glean that this version of Reiko might have been preceded by an identical-looking but entirely different person, and that a menacing pharmaceutical company may be involved, and a bunch of other odd circumstances that set the mind racing.
What follows is an unusual blend of slice-of-life intermixed with surprising discoveries as we flash between carefree meals and tortured reflections. There’s a page-turner quality to the story because the narrative delivers a constant supply of reveals, and even better, the further we get, the more it deepens its thematic throughlines about the difficulties of letting go. But perhaps its most welcome benefit compared to many other anime has to do with the cast: they’re almost entirely made up of adults with adult problems (even if those problems have a sci-fi twist). Reiko’s anxieties and wants are well-rendered, and her wholesome relationship with her bestie, Yaomay, is a delight. Kudou is a tortured, broken, noir man whose past becomes increasingly tragic the more we learn about him. Meanwhile, the extended cast features multiple LGBT+ characters who are complex in their own ways, each searching for answers in this labyrinth of a city. By combining futuristic flourishes, grounded romance, and hardboiled detective beats, Kowloon Generic Romance delivers an eclectic and well-executed vision.
While plenty of great anime are based on well-regarded source material, there’s often something noticeably different about the ones based on literary classics, as is clear with The Answer Studio’s take on the Anne Shirley novels. This adaptation wastes no time in establishing why its heroine has had an impact everywhere from Canada to Japan for over a century: Anne is a fiery, creative, and hilariously over-romantic kid, and it’s a joy to watch her grow up against the bucolic Canadian countryside. After growing up in an orphanage, she finds her place in Green Gables, where her flights of fancy reimagine quiet pastoral hills into something more fantastical. She’s a character that never feels one-note because, despite being undeniably kind-hearted and endlessly imaginative, she also has plenty of flaws, such as her deep-seated complex about her red hair and explosive temper.
There’s just something different about how this coming-of-age tale brings us along on the ups and downs of adolescence as our protagonist’s wants take on gargantuan importance: will she make friends, will she beat Gilbert on the exam, will she find a way to patch things up with her foster parent, Marilla? Perhaps it’s the relationships she forms with her adopted family and her “bosom friend,” Diana, whose warm bonds make this place feel like home. Or maybe it’s how specific Anne feels, like how she dramatically names every mildly noteworthy locale, turning a simple pond into the “Lake of Shining Waters.” Naoko Yamada’s lovingly rendered intro and outro sequences, which channel her legendary character animation skills, certainly don’t hurt either. Sure, this adaptation arguably speeds through these novels when it could have taken in the scenery, but that doesn’t change just how well it captures the joy of Green Gables and the people who live there.
Even compared to its excellent first season, The Apothecary Diaries managed to outdo itself yet again in its second, delivering clever, medicine-themed detective work alongside sharp critiques of its historical backdrop. Set in a fictionalized rendition of Imperial China’s inner palace, the story follows Maomao, a skilled apothecary whose medicinal know-how is only surpassed by her quiet sense of justice. This time around, she’s sucked into political intrigue as the horrific acts perpetrated by the previous emperor echo across decades.
While this series has always explored the power imbalances perpetuated by this royal court, especially regarding the mistreatment of women, this latest arc triples down on this emphasis by lingering on the suffering caused by those with status. We see children threatened with death for crimes they didn’t commit, difficult to stomach familial abuse, and how countless girls’ lives were irrevocably altered when adults failed to protect them from a monster. It’s one thing to weave a satisfying one-off mystery yarn, and it’s another to do this while also connecting every little detail into a larger web that so convincingly portrays how these many wrongdoings are tied together. And on a different note, did I mention Maomao is one of the best TV characters in recent memory? Her comedic antics and friendships with other women in the inner palace ensure that this season isn’t all heavy ruminations on historical injustices, even if her inability to turn her back on those in need drives her right into the middle of things. When people complain that all anime these days is derivative slop, you know they’re not watching The Apothecary Diaries.
Elijah Gonzalez is an assistant Games and TV Editor. In addition to playing and watching the latest on the small screen, he also loves film, creating large lists of media he’ll probably never actually get to, and dreaming of the day he finally gets through all the Like a Dragon games. You can follow him on Bluesky @elijahgonzalez.bsky.social.
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