Just try all the keys in the bloody pendant. I don’t care whether it’s a metaphor for sex anymore or who out of the numerous girls you made the promise to when you were a toddler, this kind of tomfoolery has gone on long enough. Based on a lot of anime, Nisekoi (False Love) especially, if I ever have children I will impress upon them the perils of making promises to childhood friends because from the evidence, all it causes is trauma further down the line.
Nisekoi’s initial hook is standard “only in anime” fare: the son of a Yakuza boss, Raku, is forced to pretend he’s romantically involved with the daughter, Chitoge, of another gang boss. The two obviously fight like cats and dogs yet must maintain the facade of a couple in love lest hostilities between the two criminal enterprises escalate into a full on street war. I say “initial” hook because although that’s all covered in the first episode, the storyline the series is more interested in telling is about the promise Raku made with an unknown girl when he was younger, a girl who holds the literal key to his figurative heart / literal pendant.
You might notice from the phenomenal opening to Mikakunin de Shinkoukei (Engaged to the Unidentified) that it isn’t until the final few seconds when the floppy-haired, dour looking male shows up. He’s the titular “unidentified” of the series and for the most part, he remains as such. The series may as well have been called “The Increasingly Peculiar Adventures of Mashiro” because the diminutive, screechy voiced child is undoubtedly the star of the show. The storyline could have been easily retooled to remove the stoic male Hakuya completely and otherwise still retain a lot of Mikakunin’s charm.
The second meaning of “unidentified” in the title concerns a mid-season plot twist that comes from so far off the map it’s initially difficult to know what to make of it. It serves its purpose of injecting some dynamism into the story and gifts the series with a much needed quirk because lord knows the premise of a boy (and his little sister) turning up and claiming he’s betrothed to the otherwise oblivious girl wasn’t going to win any awards for originality. Up until the plot twist the rhythm of the show is by-the-numbers; the question being whether the augmentation supplies enough life to keep the series afloat.
Ignoring the most obvious pussy jokes, Nyan Koi is an unabashed romantic comedy. The opening seconds are rife with familiarity: the sun streaming through classroom windows, a waif-like schoolgirl standing demurely opposite the rag-haired boy. Were it not over in a few seconds the temptation to turn it off in disgust would build to almost unbearable levels. To say the road has been well travelled would be an extreme understatement and all the kitschy hooks in the world aren't enough to save lazy writing and tired character types. Talking cats just don't provide the impetus necessary to last twelve episodes or more, especially when up occupying a genre dominated by heavyweights like the recent Toradora! and similarly veined Kannagi.
with blind faith being put into the local feline mob
The premise concerns Junpei's ability to communicate, Doctor Doolittle style, with cats after a mishap with a local feline shrine. His family's neck-scarf wearing cat speaks of a curse that can only be lifted if he helps one hundred "distressed" cats lest he turn into a cat himself - a fate he is sure would lead to his death given his allergic reaction to cats. This last fact is swiftly forgotten about by the third episode when it becomes obvious the modus operandi of the curse is to introduce and ingratiate Junpei with as many young ladies as is possible. In three episodes his skirt collection is already burgeoning and with a set of twins and an angry looking youth featured in the OP and ED still to come, the pieces are arranged for well-trodden tedium.
How do you rearrange the old and tired "childhood friend" romantic comedy? Fundamentally, you can't, but setting it from the perspective of the returning childhood friend is a pleasant change. Unfortunately "Myself; Yourself" is still rigidly defined by the same romantic comedy template that has been recycled again and again, in the first three of a potential thirteen episodes it explores none of the obvious avenues of character development and somehow manages to shoehorn a swimsuit episode in...
each episode is little more than straight-faced teenage drama without any form of innovation or hook
Instead of examining the shock of coming back to the place you grew up and seeing how stark the differences of then and now are, "Myself; Yourself" barrages the viewer with an instantly familiar cast of characters: the busty ditz, the flat-chested tsunderreko, the affable best-friend, the obvious ice-cold love interest and the token diversion from said love interest. If it weren't a wholly standalone project, it would be effortless to peg the series as straight out of a dating sim or ero-game. The majority of the comedy and fan-service stems from the buxom pixie, voiced by the distinctive Tomoko Kaneda, it is at first odd to hear Azumanga's Chiyo in another character, but her boundless enthusiasm and plethora of almost inaudible noises make the character, what one can only assume is, the very epitome of "moe". In contrast, the terminally bland protagonist sports an everyman personality which only makes him all the more distasteful despite his apparently dark past.
