The Top 10 Anime of 2024

This was another great year for anime, from sci-fi spectacles like DAN DA DAN to the fantastical foodie adventures of Delicious in Dungeon. In between were heart-pulling dramas about girls trying to make it in the cut-throat music industry and the triumphant return of Masami Ōbari. Read on below to find the very best anime had to offer in 2024.

Note: Entries below may contain spoilers for series and plot developments!

I don't definitively know why the slice-of-life romance genre is so prevalent in anime, but I can explain why I find the genre so appealing personally. I love stories where characters struggle internally with themselves. I like stories where people can fully process their wants, needs, and desires in a healthy way. Seeing those stories helps me grow as a person. It helps me find new ways of overcoming my struggles and appreciate the struggles that other people go through. The Dangers in My Heart is a series that fully exemplifies some of the best traits of the slice-of-life genre to the point where I would recommend it to people who openly admit they are not fans of the genre at all.

This show was already on my radar during season one, but season two elevates the material into the stratosphere. It builds off of the carefully laid foundation, and while we get to a rather predictable ending, the journey is more than satisfying. Season one was all about our main character, Ichikawa, recognizing his wants and desires. Given past traumas and fully established insecurities about himself, this was a big deal for him. This is a kid who was lonely and genuinely didn't think he deserved any positive affirmation. You take a character like that and surround him with relatively positive people, and you're left with a crisis of identity that ultimately leads him in a positive direction.

Yes, the show is a little cliché when you consider that it is about a reclusive short king paired with the tall popular girl, but when you look past that premise, this is a story about two young kids recognizing that it's OK to wish for more than they have. Both Ichikawa and Yamada have been forced into a box, and the whole story is about them learning to help each other escape it so that they can hold each other's hands and walk down the path of adulthood together. This is a story about people realizing they want to be more for themselves and those they love. The result is a gorgeous, melodious slice-of-life series that left me in tears by the end. If you're all curious about what I am talking about, please give it a shot yourself because there's a good chance you'll end up a mess just like I was. If we're strictly speaking slice-of-life anime, I don't think there was a better entry this year.

—MrAJCosplay

The final act of Kumiko and her gaggle of band geeks' epic struggle toward greatness was a long, long time coming, but it was very well worth the wait. Mistakes were made, lessons were learned, friendships came and went, tears were shed, and blood was even spilled. All of that led to one of the most satisfying conclusions I've ever experienced. At last, they came, they saw, and they conquered.

For a story that started what seems like so long ago, everything about Sound! Euphonium's third season feels as fresh as ever. It's almost like Eupho never left. From the cinematic animation and direction to the splendor emanating from every musical note to the unforgettable characters that never cease to amaze me, every bit of this proves that KyoAni are still masters of the craft. What I love most of all are the callbacks and references to the previous scenes of Eupho and even Liz and the Blue Bird . They do more than just provide fanfare for Euphomanics who know the story by heart, although that is a huge plus in and of itself. Having all of those beats in place shows how far Kumiko has come—since history tends to repeat itself, the callbacks did a wonder in emphasizing the difficulties Kumiko would have to face going through the same hurdles over again in the effort to become better.

Which she did. None of the mistakes were in vain. True, Kumiko didn't land the solo we all wanted her to get, and even a huge part of Reina still remained unsatisfied after all was said and done. But as the old tune goes, you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find you'll get what you need. Kumiko, Reina, Mayu, Midori, Hazuki, Kanade, and the rest of the Kitauji High School Concert Band got what they needed and rightfully deserved. And so did we.

To witness the bulk of Eupho season 3 while it aired was to witness passion and excitement that only a series like this could inspire. The fan artists put pen to paper with unparalleled urgency, the sakuga community typed away like crazy on their blogs, and the shippers came out hard and swinging (Kumiko x Reina forever, by the way). Nearly a decade after the series first began, nobody can forget how warm it sounds. It is a sound that will echo for eternity. —Jeremy Tauber

Girls Band Cry took a weird ride to get here. The first trailers showing off the CGI animation hardly inspired confidence. It was one of a vanishingly few anime in this modern era not to see an official English-subbed simulcast. When it finally arrived, it was via an unwieldy digital purchase option—though at least you could also watch it through your local library. All that means that for many viewers, what they heard about Girls Band Cry had more to do with grousing about how it could or couldn't be watched rather than anything about the series itself—and they might have missed out on something special.

The landscape of girls' music anime has changed over all these years, reflected in Love Live! Sunshine!! director Kazuo Sakai's approach to Girls Band Cry. The members of Togenashi Togeari are a motley collection of multiple kinds of drop-outs. They don't have a school to save; they're saving themselves and each other. As in so many stories, the power of music is what helps save them. But coming together to create that music and to find a place where they can belong in performing it is just as much of a challenge as the other, often very real-feeling obstacles they have faced.

Momoka gave up the legal rights to the self-defining song she created. Nina grapples with self-destructive impulses. Rupa has to put up with racism. These are issues that feel true to life, not like they were created to be beats in arcs that get covered and resolved in 30-minute character-focus episodes. Several interpersonal issues are brought up between characters, with ignoble public blow-ups and concert MC segments gone rogue. Some of these interactions are left hanging seemingly mid-development, because there's no clean or healthy way to resolve them yet other than to let them awkwardly linger. Pointedly realistic writing or material saved for a prospective second season? It can be both, all a part of Girls Band Cry's distinctive approach and appeal.

The power of Girls Band Cry's direction infuses its emotional moments with raw, finger-flipping catharsis. And that direction can't be overstated in terms of its presentation either. For all the off-puttingness of the CGI in the previews, seeing the style properly directed and structured as it was intended makes a marked difference. Characters move with personality befitting their emotional journeys, and the goofy moments land with the needed relief between all the headier parts. The concert scenes might be some of the finest put to anime in recent memory, with a library of in-show songs that embody the rocking spirit of the series. Alongside that is one of the most distinctive background music scores I've heard in a show like this. It's just as rock as the performed songs, lending Girls Band Cry the ultra-modern edge that deservingly makes it feel like part of a new generation.

From the style to the sound to the story, Girls Band Cry truly is its own beast. It may have had a bumpy road to arrive, but it got there in its own way. And at the end of that journey, it can stand on the stage with this year's best anime. —Chris Farris

One year ago, I wrote, “[D]ue to my self-imposed limitation that I'm only including completed seasons (because you never know when something will fall apart at the last second) the exemplary The Apothecary Diaries and Frieren: Beyond Journey's End are ineligible.” Well, I've barely touched Frieren since then, but I've barely stopped thinking about The Apothecary Diaries in the same time. Of the two, The Apothecary Diaries is simply the more toothsome, textured narrative, with its format as a medical mystery show set in the inner courtyard of a fictional empire inspired by dynastic China.

At the top layer, it's a gorgeous show to look at and listen to. Director Norihiro Naganuma proved himself extremely deft at bringing life to historical settings with The Ancient Magus' Bride, and backed by the staff at OLM, he brings protagonist Maomao's life in the imperial harem to breathtaking life. Every frame is breathtaking, from Maomao's expressive character acting to the environments she moves through to the floral arrangements that subtly express meaning via hanakotoba. The entire cast is strong, but Aoi Yūki, in particular, is the perfect cast for our quirky, multifaceted heroine who loves nothing more than to poison herself.

But much like the characters who inherit that world, all that beauty would be useless without something to back it up. At its most basic, The Apothecary Diaries is a medical mystery show a la House. Maomao isn't terribly interested in people and would much rather spend her time there with her head down and avoiding notice, but she simply can't resist a good mystery. In a place like the inner courtyard, where hundreds of people have little to no access to the outside and whose world has been shrunk down to a few dozen hectares, many are jockeying for whatever power they can access. That means a lot of intrigue and, along with it, underhanded methods for bringing down rivals. Maomao never has any shortage of work to do.

The Apothecary Diaries is also keenly aware of the power dynamics that create these kinds of situations. The denizens of the inner courtyard come from historically disempowered groups; who can blame them for using the methods available to them to secure greater agency? Even though Maomao herself cares little about rank, seeing humanity equally in sex workers, eunuchs, and high-ranking nobles, she also responds to how differently they experience society. Maomao doesn't know exactly who Jinshi is, but she knows he could have her beheaded on a whim. While Jinshi, as the one who holds the power, doesn't really think about how that figures into their relationship, Maomao is unable to forget. This awareness is ever-present, as social hierarchies rule every aspect of life in their walled-off segment of society.

But perhaps the thing that makes The Apothecary Diaries most special is how all of this is woven together into one single piece that is actually quite difficult to pick apart. Every part of the story informs the other, and without fail, every part of life is contextualized before it comes into play for the maximum emotional impact. Both textually and meta-textually, there's some intricate clockwork happening underneath the surface, grand machinations, and quiet subterfuge that the story has really only started to scratch the surface of. In just a few weeks, we'll be dropping back into that world. I can't wait. —Caitlin Moore

ANN's own Steve Jones said it best in his review of the first three episodes of this show: “Ironically, the most off-the-rails anime of the season is the one that takes place on a train.” Train to the End of the World, which aired in spring, is an equal parts strange and sincere post-apocalyptic anime about four girls traveling by train to Ikebukuro to find their missing friend. The catch: ever since the 7G incident two years ago, the world has become unrecognizable from what it once was. From zombies to manga artists with magic pens, the girls must overcome a list of oddball obstacles and ludicrous locales to reach their destination, find their friends, and maybe even turn the world back to normal.

Arguably, this anime's most defining trait is how much it basks in its own absurdism. As mentioned earlier, traveling to wacky destinations yet unknown is more or less what this anime is all about. One could say it's an anime whose train of thought can often be hard to discern—but in a positive way, where you're just feeling glad to be along for the ride. In many ways, the bizarre world is just as much of a main character as the girls themselves are—and like the girls, getting to know this strange setting is one of the best parts of this show. The level of creativity used in not only the ideas themselves, but the many ways in which they're brought to life is nothing short of brilliant. It feels weird to want to describe anime as a travel show, and yet that's exactly what's going on here. But then again, this show is nothing if not weird anyway—in a way, this is really fitting.

Still, this isn't to say that kookiness is all this anime has to offer. Underneath layers of eccentricity, this series has an emotional core that ties it all together beautifully and often lets it go full steam ahead. In particular, I'm talking about the relationships between the girls—the main one and the one who's lost especially. This anime is peppered with heartfelt moments between them, and you can't help but love them by the time this anime reaches its last stop.

I'm not at all surprised to find this anime on this list. It was certainly one of the most memorable anime of the year, and with all the fun moments it had, how could it not be? Its unique blend of zaniness and emotional substance put it on the fast track toward winning over plenty of fans while it was airing. And I don't doubt that that blend will get new fans on board with it for years to come. —Kennedy

The world you can see isn't all that's there. Shigeru Mizuki's Kitaro may be the character best known for saying that. There's a certain degree of truth to the words: there could be an entire world around us that we can't perceive, societies of beings just outside of our understanding living their own lives in their societies. YATAGARASU: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master magnificently takes this idea and shapes its story around it. High on a mountain in Japan sits the kingdom of Yamauchi, the land of the yatagarasu, a form of tengu. It's a kingdom still living in the past, with most courtiers looking like they stepped out of the Heian era and a rigid social system. Ruled over by the kin'u, or golden raven, Yamauchi exists in a time-out-of-time…but as the story goes on, we learn that that's deliberate on the yatagarasu's part. Only the kin'u knows what else is beyond the mountain's borders.

The idea of a closed world isn't new, but it's used incredibly well here. The ravens' world is designed to preserve their culture, but as the show proves, not all of its aspects are worth preserving. The class system, whereby criminals are forced to stay in raven form and serve as “horses” for others and “hill ravens” (commoners) are seen as sub-human, forms a major throughline for the series, with the way that prejudices are seen as perfectly normal by many forming the backbone for the first half's major plot twist. It's subtly done, too; villains aren't ranting and raving; they're quietly confused by why anyone could think they're wrong, shining a light on the worst of human nature while still providing a veil for uncomfortable viewers to look through, obscuring some of the harshness. The fight for the kin'u's hand that makes up the first half explores what happens when women are valued only as wives. In contrast, the drug abuse and evil ape plot of the second half takes on a more crime drama feel as our point of view character, Yukiya, learns that there's much more in heaven and earth than dreamt of in his philosophy. It feels appropriate to paraphrase Shakespeare because the scope of Yatagarasu is Shakespearan as it plumbs various social and political issues and how they all come to rest on a single raven's shoulders.

Ayakashi stories may, at times, feel like a dime a dozen in anime. Certainly, there's at least one every season. But few of them manage the visual flair, character work, and twisting storytelling of YATAGARASU: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master. With one foot in Yamauchi and the other in Japan, these ravens are ultimately very human, and their stories could easily play out in our world. Fear of the unknown, caste systems, and attempting to find your place in the grand scheme of things are all elements of any world. But isn't it more fun to watch them unfold with mythical ravenfolk? And it's so much easier to ignore the real-world parallels, even if the storytelling and the world itself make it clear that we do so at our peril. —Rebecca Silverman

Dead Dead Demon's Dededede Destruction is the coming-of-age story of Kadode, a girl about to graduate high school with no idea what to do with her life. She has no real goals or passions beyond her crush on her (all-too-willing) teacher. Luckily, by her side, she has her ride-or-die best friend, Ouran—a girl with an eccentric personality, a distrust of the government, and a pessimistic view of people in general. Together, they try to figure out their place in the world—a world where a giant UFO has spent the last few years hovering above Tokyo.

This is the twist of the narrative. Kadode and Ouran live in the literal shadow of a world-changing event—except that nothing is really different. Rather, it has just become the new “normal.” Even as the government becomes more antagonistic toward the massive floating object in the sky, very little changes for average teens like Kadode and Ouran. This is a statement about humanity's adaptability—and the shortsightedness that comes with it.

As the story goes on, it becomes many other things as well. At one point, a dark deconstruction of Doraemon shows what would happen if a child with a sense of justice got her hands on high-tech gadgets far beyond human understanding. At another, it's the tale of a young man struggling with his love of female fashion—and longing for acceptance. At yet another, it's about a young woman who finds herself radicalized into becoming a terrorist. Yet, somehow, none of these stories feel out of place within the greater plot.

Dead Dead Demon's Dededede Destruction mirrors society. It shows all the blemishes in perfect clarity, not letting us shy away from the dark and dirty aspects of human nature or the world we have created. It goes everywhere from explorations about self-interest and ego to how groupthink and the passage of time warp our collective sense of morality.

This show will leave you depressed about the state of humanity—how we continuously make the same mistakes and use our righteous zeal and self-interests as an excuse to do the most horrible of things. Worse still, the average person is not only powerless but also largely uninterested, myopically focused on their own little problems.

Despite all this, Dead Dead Demon's Dededede Destruction is a story that tells us to seize happiness where we can and to tie ourselves to those who make our lives worth living. We may not be able to save the world but we can love and protect those we care about. And, in the end, maybe that will be enough. —Richard Eisenbeis

I don't have anything as formal as “criteria” for how I pick my favorite anime of the year, but I heavily weigh the frequency of the guffaws I get from watching it. It doesn't have to be the smartest or the best-looking show. It simply has to keep me consistently slack-jawed with either awe or surprise. That's the main factor that earned Birdie Wing top honors from me for two years in a row, and that's the same reason why Brave Bang Bravern! graces this year's list.

When it comes to sheer narrative momentum, no other anime came close to Bravern this year. If you ask me, the shrinking average episode count has been terrible for the mecha genre. Those shows thrive when given the space to meander on their way to their operatic narratives, and conversely, they lose some of their luster when they have to railroad through their main plot. While Bravern clocks in at a mere 12 episodes, it intelligently sidesteps many of those issues by compressing its narrative, not cutting it. When you cut a piece of graphite, you end up with a messy pile of dust. When you compress graphite, you get a diamond. And that's what Bravern is: a big, beautiful, bangin' diamond.

You want to experience Bravern's story on your own, so I'm being careful to avoid too many specifics. The writing is filled with twists and turns savvy to the genre's usual tropes. Sometimes, it plays into them, and other times, it blindsides you. What ties it all together is Bravern's unfaltering commitment to the bit and its boundless love for the mecha genre. In one sense, that's to be expected from a show directed by Masami Ōbari, but I don't think we should take that for granted. Plenty of passion projects stop short of fulfilling their ambitions. Obari goes gung ho, and the audience reaps all the rewards.

Bravern is also the funniest show of the year. Much of that stems from its consistent narrative ridiculousness, but it's also written like a comedy—and a good one, at that! It turns waterboarding into a punchline. Characters are constantly nude and covered in goo. Some dialogue sounds like it could have been lifted from The Venture Bros. Bravern himself is an absolute hoot with his 110% line delivery and 150% vocal volume. Isami is a great straight-man archetype who finds himself utterly broken by the insanity going on around him. Smith looks and feels like a guy ripped out an all-American '80s cartoon. Even the enemy robots possess oversized personalities that bounce well off the rest of the cast.

Most importantly, though, Bravern is a love story. It's a love letter to the mecha genre, but it's also quite literally a gay romance about a man and the giant robot he frequently climbs inside. At first, it all seems like a lot of intentional homoerotic innuendo for the sake of getting a rise out of the audience. As the show progresses, though, it marries those laughs with an earnestness and a tenderness. You never stop laughing, but in between the hoots, you'll be rooting for this man and machine to make out with all the fiery passion of a Hawaiian volcano. And that's why I love Bravern. In anime, all things are possible. —Steve Jones

During the interviews that came paired along with DAN DA DAN's theatrical screenings back in October, author Yukinobu Tatsu shared that his earliest pitches for his traditional battle-manga ideas kept getting rejected, ostensibly because they were lacking that special je ne sais quoi that would set them apart from the competition. In the face of this failure, Tatsu's editor mandated that he go out and read “100 romance manga” before going back to the drawing board to refine his work. Whoever that fateful genius might have been, the millions of fans who have been watching DAN DA DAN this winter owe them an immeasurable amount of gratitude.

The thing most viewers pick up on almost immediately is that the secret sauce that keeps people clamoring for more helpings of DAN DA DAN week after week is not its ridiculously wacky aliens-vs-yokai-vs-goofy-teenagers premise, its abundance of weird and gross humor, its creative and pulse-pounding action, nor even the supremely vivid and cinematic production values that Science SARU has brought to the adaptation. All of those things are great, mind you, and they certainly contribute to the show's overall quality. At the end of the day, though, all of those elements are simply building off the true cornerstone of DAN DA DAN's success: The strength of its characters and the relationships they build throughout their story.

I've seen a lot of anime and read a lot of manga in my time. I am not exaggerating when I say that Momo Ayase and Ken “Okarun” Takakura are two of the most likable and compelling heroes ever to grace the pages of Shonen Jump. Depending on the day or even the individual scene, DAN DA DAN can be a rollicking sci-fi action-adventure, a terrifying supernatural horror show, a heartbreaking drama, a side-splitting comedy, or a pitch-perfect rendition of sappy adolescent romance. Momo and Okarun would need to be excellently written and performed to succeed as the leads of just one of these genres, and every week, they prove more than capable of living up to expectations in every genre, all at the same time. They are equal parts loveable, ridiculous, stupid, flawed, bold, cunning, and fearless. Most importantly of all, despite being literally two-dimensional, they possess a deep and powerful chemistry that many flesh-and-blood actors could only dream of achieving on screen.

Thanks to the once-in-a-generation combination of a perfect cast of characters and a premise of nearly limitless possibilities, all of which have been given to a team of artists and performers that represent the most talented people working in the industry, DAN DA DAN earned its keep as one of 2024's best anime by the time its practically flawless first episode rolled credits. The fact that every single episode that has aired since then has been just as good, if not better, has only made it easier to sing its praises. —James Beckett

This year, there was only one anime that combined action, adventure, cozy cooking interludes, and unforgettable reaction faces, all rendered with the incomparable energy of Studio Trigger. From instantly beloved characters to immersive world-building to an engaging plot that could shift from silly to serious and back again, Delicious in Dungeon was a tour de force. From the powerhouse opening song and sequence that kicked off the show's first cour, to the season's explosive finale that heralded huge developments ahead for our cast and the world they live in, our pick for the Best Anime of 2024 will be remembered for years.

If an anime's popularity is judged alone by the frequency of the memes it inspires, there was no question that the cast of Delicious in Dungeon captivated anime fandom at large. From Marcille's instantly iconic faces of long-suffering disgust to Chilchuck's naked judgment of his party members, to Laios' “this guy will eat anything” reputation, to Senshi's wholesome reminder to his party—and to all of us—that everyone is worth the time it takes to cook a nutritious meal, each character became an instant hit. Protagonist Laios fooled us at first with his generic role as a human fighter before revealing himself to be far from your average “Potato-kun” protagonist. Instead of a typical self-insert, Laios was both relatable and wholly original with a methodical focus toward dungeon food that encouraged some neurodivergent fans to identify with him. Marcille's withering stares contrasted with her melting affection for Laios's sister, Falin, made “Farcille” (the fan nickname for the non-canon pairing of Marcille and Falin) the second most frequently-mentioned ship on Tumblr for 2024. In fact, “Dungeon Meshi” (the show's Japanese name) was the third most typed media title on Tumblr all year long. It's difficult to overstate just how much this show and these characters captured fans' imaginations

It's a funny show, to be sure, but what made Delicious in Dungeon so special was its range. It wasn't simply silliness without substance but a fully-realized high fantasy plot. Though many fantasy fans are familiar with the idea of characters exploring a dungeon, Delicious in Dungeon creator Ryōko Kui's take on this familiar premise digs deep into the big questions. Why is this dungeon there? What's the point of exploring a dungeon? How do new dungeons appear, and how do dungeon ecosystems function? Her concept of the dungeon as a microbiome is as thought-provoking as it is entertaining. It prompts hilarious adventures for our heroes as they get to the truth of familiar dungeon tropes. Living suits of armor, Delicious in Dungeon explains, are a type of mollusk. Dryads, fruit with upsetting faces, protect themselves in a realistically plant-like way by giving the party hay fever. The humor and the world-building feed into each other and strengthen each element. A range of settings also shift as the group descends to deeper floors; from forest to ocean to village, they never stay anywhere long enough for viewers to lose interest. Always vibrant and mysterious and filled with hidden depths, the dungeon itself is a character in its own right. The way that Studio Trigger portrayed these backgrounds and the fluid way the party navigates them brought the story to life.

Delicious in Dungeon also happened to be the only show that I watched dubbed in English this year. There was nothing wrong with the Japanese dub; it's just that the English dub happened to be exceptional. I was especially a fan of SungWon Cho as Senshi, lending the kindly dwarf a gruff, fatherly tone that fits his role as the party's dedicated dad. A viral post on Twitter showed Japanese viewers lauding the English dub, indicating that this was a performance that crossed language barriers. Excellent vocal performances, dynamic animation, and brilliant source material combined to make Delicious in Dungeon a once-in-a-year masterpiece. —Lauren Orsini

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