For someone determined to avoid romance, Mobu has managed to land himself in a particularly miserable position: two guys declaring their feelings for him at the same time. A love triangle is about the worst possible outcome for our reluctant resident of a BL universe, and it makes an appropriately disastrous cliffhanger for this third season. For me, though, the bigger question is whether the show can still make its familiar joke feel fresh.
The answer is only partly. I enjoyed this more than season two, which left me somewhat disappointed, but season one remains comfortably ahead. The ridiculous reactions still work, and there is plenty of humor in watching the series point out the machinery behind BL romances. What has faded is the novelty. Anyone who watched the first two seasons will know exactly what sort of experience awaits, and even a couple of years away hasn’t quite restored that initial spark.
Returning after that break, the creators have also put 2024 in the season’s title. Why? I genuinely couldn’t tell you. At least the commitment is small: six episodes of roughly 23 minutes each make this an easy, quick watch.
The story resumes practically where we left it. Following his relationship with Kikuchi in season two, Mobu finds himself single again when Kikuchi goes off to university. Far from being upset, he’s delighted. All he wants is to get through life without falling for another guy, which means constantly watching for the romantic traps his world keeps laying around him.
That vigilance supplies the season’s format. Each episode takes on two warning signs—or “arcs,” as the show labels them—usually demonstrated by the people around Mobu falling for one another. “Physical Contact” turns an unintended touch into a possible romantic beginning, while “Fake Relationship” offers the familiar danger of make-believe affection becoming genuine. A costume party can be enough to get things moving; apparently, so can two people having a similar smell. In this universe, almost anything can send a pair of guys toward couplehood.
These setups remain genuinely funny. We already recognize the conventions, but there is something especially amusing about having someone explicitly identify them. At its most enjoyable, the season feels like flicking through a collection of silly sketches making fun of all the things that constitute the BL genre. The exaggerated performances help sell the jokes, although I do have to ask: with these actors now actually in their thirties, how much longer are they going to be playing high schoolers?
Of course, spotting a trope doesn’t guarantee that Mobu can escape it. His particular blind spot turns out to be “Age Gap,” the setup in which a younger person falls for someone older and that difference can become the basis of a romance later on. Enter Hatano, a high school friend of Mobu’s younger brother, who unexpectedly tells Mobu he has feelings for him.
Mobu throws everything he can at the problem, attempting to steer Hatano’s affection in another direction. Nothing succeeds. His reprieve comes instead from Hatano himself: because he’s still underage, he’s prepared to wait a few years before they could be together. Mobu is enormously relieved by the breathing room.
Then coincidence ruins it. Both are hired as movie extras and wind up filming together as a couple. Hatano wants to maintain his distance, but cannot manage it, and declares his feelings again. That is precisely when Kikuchi returns during a break from university and delivers a confession of his own, leaving Mobu trapped in that dreaded triangle.
The finale is already available, and I intend to watch it soon. Until then, this season has done a perfectly serviceable job as a filler watch: amusing tropes, familiar pleasures, and a steady enough continuation without the freshness that made the beginning stand out. Decent, rather than remarkable. 5.5/10.