Looking at this year in anime from a high level, it’s clear that most of the ultra-popular releases of 2025 are situated in its back half: new seasons of Dandadan, Kaiju No. 8, My Dress Up Darling, Spy x Family, One Punch Man, My Hero Academia, and more are on the way, and that’s not even including a few popular manga that may hit big as well. But even though this winter and spring in anime didn’t have as many big sequels or obvious cultural event-type series (barring a few exceptions), there was no shortage of great shows if you knew where to look. The top anime of 2025 so far include nuanced works of historical fiction, heady sci-fi, girl bands, adaptations of Canadian literary novels, and a whole bunch of shows anchored by excellent heroines. It’s hard to keep up with the overwhelming number of anime released every year, but luckily, we’ve done the legwork for you: you should probably check out these ten TV shows!
Honorable Mentions
At this point, you probably know if Dr. Stone and its particular brand of action-oriented edutainment works for you or not. The show’s latest season probably won’t convince any Senku-haters to come back around, but the good news for fans of the series is that it has only improved as it reaches its climax. Specifically, our protagonist has met a worthy opponent in a former NASA engineer turned technocratic despot, which has led to some tense stand-offs that leverage the power of science. If you want to see battle-shonen-styled duels and also receive lengthy explanations about sulfuric acid and other compounds, this is the show for you.
From Bureaucrat to Villainess: Dad’s Been Reincarnated! wrings every drop out of its absurd premise, delivering laughs and ultra-sincere monologues as a middle-aged Japanese salaryman is reincarnated as the villainess in a romance game. This premise could have been weird, but thanks to its pure-hearted delivery and intensely likable protagonist, this take on the Villainess sub-genre is another winner.
Dragon Ball Daima ended with a bang, mixing and matching several eras of Toriyama’s seminal series into a fun 20-episode journey. It captures so many of Dragon Ball’s strengths in microcosm: the characters are charming, the fight sequences are thrilling, and it knows how to work in a laugh. Add in the best animation the series has seen in a while, and you have a fitting send-off to a legend.
Melding magic and goofy slice-of-life shenanigans, Witch Watch is an enchanting rom-com with a great sense of humor. As Nico works to help her classmates with witchcraft and Otogi does his best to keep things on the rails, the two find themselves in an endless sequence of silly scenarios brought on by the liberal use of a magic wand. It’s funny, it’s sweet, and it has the best opening of the year: what more could you want?
Through its second season, Wind Breaker continues to wear its heart on its sleeve as our central band of unexpected do-gooders punch a whole bunch of dirtbags to protect their community. Despite technically being a “delinquent” style series—a story that follows teen gangs—the members of Furin High School are anything but two-bit hustlers, and under Umemiya’s command, they protect the town of Makochi in moments of need. This time around, Sakura grapples with what it means to rely on his buddies as they run into foes who don’t share their gang’s nice streak, like a bunch of hoodie-wearing creeps who hang out in a warehouse.
As with the previous season, one of the series’ greatest strengths is how it conveys the closeness of its central community, a place where Sakura can finally be himself after a life of being othered. That throughline of finding a place to belong extends to several others as well, including Season 2’s best newcomer, Tsubako, a gender-non-conforming badass whose quest for internal and external acceptance comes together beautifully (especially the part where he positively demolishes his foes while wearing high heels). On many levels, Wind Breakers is a perfect example of why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover: come for the cool fights, stay for the heartfelt musings on community and alternatives to policing.
Mixing sports and romance, Blue Box is a cute genre mash-up that’s only gotten stronger over its 25-episode run. The story follows Taiki, a freshman badminton player, as he begins to fall for the basketball team’s ace, Chinatsu, only for things to get more complicated as unexpected circumstances push them together. One reason this marriage of genres works is because it conveys how Taiki and Chinatsu are united by a shared love for sports, each motivating the other to greater heights. The series delves into both characters’ headspaces, capturing their confused emotions and inner conflicts as it unfolds a love triangle that doesn’t feel contrived. And to top it off, Telecom Animation Film has gone above and beyond with this adaptation, bringing together both sides of this story with kinetic matches and impressively detailed character art that captures each minor swing in these relationships.
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.
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.
For many, myself included, BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!! proved one of the biggest anime surprises in recent years, an achingly heartfelt music drama about a group of disaster teens bouncing off each other like pool balls while they recovered from a band break-up. In that context, it’s no small feat that the direct sequel to that series, Ave Mujica – The Die is Cast –, features a group that is somehow even more of a trainwreck, twisting the lessons and arcs of the previous season into a dark parody of what came before. We follow the ups and downs of the titular band, Ave Mujica, a power group of young women as talented as they are incompatible, while their personal problems spiral into outright catastrophes.
If It’s MyGO already probed for emotional depth beneath the cutesy exterior of the “girls start a band” sub-genre, Ave Mujica journeys to even darker corners, interrogating the psyches of these complex, deeply flawed characters with surprisingly avante-garde execution—at one point, a tragic flashback is presented as a raw, single person stage play, while at another, an ongoing mental breakdown is portrayed with harsh colors and a seeming allusion to the iconic film The Red Shoes. It’s strange enough that this project exists in the first place, an investor-friendly mixed-media franchise taken into unsettling psychodrama territory, but it’s even more impressive that it does this while avoiding being gratuitously edgy or insincere. If you want to watch 12 episodes of Sapphics who really need a therapist crashing out as hard as humanly possible, sprinkled with allusions to Hermann Hesse’s 1919 bildungsroman Demian, then this is the show for you.
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.
Despite being one of the more under-discussed shows of the winter, Medalist nails just about every particular of this figure skating journey, capturing both the hot-blooded thrill of competition and the wonder of performance. We follow Inori, a middle schooler who started skating “late” (i.e., didn’t begin when she was five or six), as she goes against the tide with the help of Tsukasa, her lovable golden retriever of a coach. The supportive relationship between these two is the beating heart of the series and the primary reason why it’s hard to avoid getting teary-eyed; we see how affirming it is for Inori to finally find something she’s good at, while Tsukasa discovers a similar joy in watching his student succeed. And although this coach-and-pupil combo is deeply wholesome, the story also grapples with the cost of caring so deeply by exploring the realities of engaging with such an expensive, time-consuming, and fickle sport.
These storytelling boons probably aren’t a shock for those who read the show’s well-regarded source material, but what has been a pleasant surprise is the quality of Studio ENGI’s animation. These skating performances utilize motion capture and 3D CGI to nail each double Salchow, as smart camera flourishes highlight the athleticism and skill on display. Medalist’s elegant visuals and passionately conveyed drama earn it a well-deserved place on the podium.
Over its 25-episode run, Orb: On the Movements of the Earth has taken us across decades and several protagonists, bringing to life heartbreaking sacrifices made in the pursuit of knowledge. Set in an alternate version of Middle Ages Europe, the story follows an eclectic group attempting to prove the heliocentric model as a Catholic Church equivalent threatens to torture and kill those who promote this “heretical” theory. They dedicate their lives to understanding the cosmos for very different reasons: some are transfixed by scientific truth, while others challenge church doctrine that states Earth is the “lowest” realm in the cosmos. But whatever the reason, this band gives everything they have for a future they may never see, capturing the selflessness and bravery of standing against the status quo.
Throughout, the series maintains nuanced perspectives on religion and belief, exploring the sometimes muddy lines between having faith in an unproven scientific theory and believing in the divine as its characters grow in ways that make their eventual fates all the more gutting. Through their struggles, we see both the dangers of striving for knowledge at any cost and also the beauty of one of humankind’s greatest qualities: our curiosity. You probably never thought you’d cry over the beauty of heliocentrism, but Orb: On the Movements of the Earth may just change that.
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 Editor for Endless Mode. In addition to playing the latest, he also loves movies, 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.
