The Beautifully Animated Fragrant Flower Blooms With Dignity Finally Finds Its Way To Netflix

If there’s a recurring theme throughout the first episode of CloverWorks’ latest project, The Fragrant Flower Blooms With Dignity, it’s that appearances can be deceiving. For his whole life, Rintaro Tsumugi has been seen as something he’s not; due to his imposing looks, he’s been typecast by those around him as a brute. Of course, in reality, he’s a sincere kid who always puts the well-being of those around him first, even if constant assumptions have made him self-conscious and somewhat withdrawn.
Because of these assumptions, he’s even leaned into the image of a “yankii” or delinquent: he dyes his hair blonde, wears an earring, and tries to carry himself with an outward aloofness. While he has friends at school who know that he isn’t the least bit violent or mean-spirited, Rintaro still hides pieces of himself from them. For instance, he doesn’t tell his buddies that his mom runs a bakery because, in the past, kids would make rude remarks about how “ridiculous” it was for someone who looks like him to be associated with such a cutesy family business.
Intent on carrying on with his guarded, withdrawn existence out of fear of getting hurt, it’s not until his meet-cute with fellow high school student Kaoruko Waguri that he finds someone who sees who he really is. And so begins a charming romance story that has excelled thanks to well-written characters and strong visuals from CloverWorks, who continue to prove themselves as one of the anime industry’s most skilled studios.
In addition to producing the currently airing My Dress Up Darling, here, they similarly succeed in bringing out the big emotions of adolescence through skilled direction and animation. There are grandiose visual gestures, like a symbolic flashback presented in shadow and silhouette, that expertly place us inside the negative past experiences that define Rintaro’s current behavior. But then there are also plenty of more subtle aesthetic choices as well, like a shot where Rintaro is visually separated from his friends by a bag that sits in the foreground, aesthetically communicating how he keeps a wall up between them even as they offer to help.
And it’s not just the heavier sequences that shine, because the bubblier moments are incredibly charming as well, like when we see the goofy look on Kaoruko’s face as she stares at Rintaro’s uneaten cake—in another play on how looks are deceiving, she’s capable of downing an impressive amount of sweets despite being very small. These touches all very quickly communicate the demeanors and thought processes of both Rintaro and Kaoruko, putting us in their headspaces.
But of course, Rintaro’s internal anxieties and lack of self-confidence aren’t the only barriers between this pair and their relationship, because there’s also very much a star-crossed lovers angle to the story: they go to schools that absolutely hate each other. Rintaro goes to an all-boys school, Chidori Public High, which is a place for “idiots,” as he puts it, while Kaoruko attends the all-girls Kikyo Private Academy, a prestigious institution mostly attended by the daughters of the country’s elites. The members of Kikyo Private Academy express a general sense of disdain for their next-door neighbors, and the boys mostly reciprocate this bad-mouthing. It all sets up to at least lightly touch on issues of gender and class, showcasing how Rintaro and Kaoruko’s peers impose certain types of expectations that they both need to overcome.