Kowloon Generic Romance Review: A Mature Love Story in a Dystopian Wor

Kowloon Generic Romance

It’s rare, almost exotic, to come across a love story that doesn’t lean on the teenage clichés of first times, hormonal stumbles, or dramatic declarations. It’s curious how the core of the romance genre, such a vast and contradictory feeling, often ends up encapsulated in the same narrative formula. It's as if those who have not yet accumulated too many wounds or are still learning to name what they feel are the only ones who can experience love. And so, amidst the season’s wave of romance anime announcements with its school settings, love triangles, and sentimental coming-of-age tales, finding a project that approaches love from adulthood, with its heavy silences, open wounds, and quiet resignation, feels like a minor anomaly because Kowloon Generic Romance is precisely that: a precious rarity.

Upon discovering that it was written by Jun Mayuzuki, the creator of the exquisitely melancholic After the Rain, everything began to make sense. With that same sensibility, she delivers this story set in a distorted, evocative version of Kowloon, where romance isn’t a starting point but a crack through which everything we are (and everything we’re afraid of becoming) seeps through. Yes, I had to read the manga immediately.

The story follows Kujirai Reiko, a diligent, methodical, somewhat reserved woman working for a real estate agency in this alternate version of Kowloon. Her relationship with her colleague Kudou (who, by contrast, is shameless, emotional, and unfiltered) is the narrative’s initial axis. But it doesn’t take long to realize that the apparent normalcy of her existence, of her entire world, is held together by something far more fragile and artificial than it appears at first glance. This tension between the real and the synthetic, between what was lived and what is remembered, poses profound questions about identity, authenticity, and desire. Can we truly love if we’re not sure who we are? Is it possible to build a genuine connection with someone when our perception of the past has been manipulated or distorted? Above all, what happens when the memory of who we were interferes with the person we’re trying to become?

Kowloon Generic Romance’s most significant achievement is its refusal to rush. The manga allows life to unfold in the foreground: work routines, lunch breaks, idle chatter, and summer sweat. And it’s precisely in these interstices, in those cracks of the everyday, that science fiction, unease, and the unspoken slowly creep in. The “generic” in the title is merely a disguise for how deeply singular this story truly is. How the narrative scatters clues (like tiny shards of broken glass we gather without realizing) raises questions. Who is Reiko Kujirai, really? What transpired before this seemingly unending present moment? What does it mean to remember when those memories might not be your own? As the story develops, it blends romance, philosophy, and light science fiction. Although shocking plot revelations or unexpected turns occur, the reader's interest is not piqued by them but rather by a deep understanding of the characters. We want to know what they feel, what they lost, and what they're searching for without saying it.

At the heart of the story are Kujirai and Kudou, a pair who might’ve starred in a light romantic comedy in another context but evolve into something far more painful and complex here. Kujirai Reiko is a fascinating protagonist, not because of what she says, but because of what she withholds. Her restraint, sense of duty, and how she looks without looking directly all reveal a woman marked by doubt and loss. Kujirai's growth is about accepting who she is, not discovering something new. Throughout the story, Kujirai wonders whether she is truly herself or merely a copy, whether her memories belong to her or are just constructions. How her identity unravels and reassembles is one of the manga’s outstanding wonders.

Kudou, on the other hand, is raw energy. He barges into Kujirai’s life with almost childlike ease, breaking down her defenses without malice. But Kudou is not one-dimensional: Behind his carefree attitude lies a burden, a wound. His relationship with the “other Kujirai” (who seems to have existed before) makes him someone constantly searching, someone also remembering with pain and confusion. There aren’t many secondary characters, but each serves a purpose. They’re inhabitants of this generic Kowloon city that doesn’t quite feel real, figures orbiting the protagonists who add texture to the story’s emotional and symbolic landscape. And what’s most curious: at times, you wonder if even these characters have agency of their own, or if they, too, are just the product of someone else’s memory, a fiction within a fiction.

Simply put, Jun Mayuzuki's artwork is exquisite—not in the flashy sense of overwhelming aesthetics but in its ability to translate atmosphere into image. The depiction of Kowloon in the manga isn’t a historical reconstruction of the mythologized walled city but rather an emotional reimagining. It’s a place that smells of mold and old memories, where the walls are so close together that light barely gets in, and yet there’s beauty in every corner. Mayuzuki gives weight to every panel, whether it’s a close-up of Kujirai staring silently, a narrow alley full of wires, or the obsessive repetition of specific windows, buildings, or signs. A sense of symmetry and repetition reinforces the idea we’re caught in a cycle. And yet, amid this apparent loop, emotion flows. Subtle gestures, lingering glances, silences between lines… all contribute to building a visual narrative as rich as the dialogue.

One could read this manga for the visuals alone, getting carried away by the textures, shadows, and urban spaces that act as characters in their own right. Some moments feel like walking through a living model city, heart beating to the rhythm of the unknown.

Kowloon Generic Romance began serialization in Shueisha's Weekly Young Jump magazine in November 2019, targeting the seinen demographic with its mature themes and nuanced storytelling. As of April 2025, the manga has been collected into 11 tankōbon volumes, with Mayuzuki recently announcing that the series has entered its final story arc. This news has generated significant buzz among the fanbase, as the manga approaches what promises to be a climactic conclusion after nearly six years of publication. Yen Press has licensed the series for English release and began publishing translated volumes in August 2022. Currently, nine of the eleven volumes are available in English, allowing Western readers to experience Mayuzuki's intricate narrative and stunning artwork.

In April 2025, Kowloon Generic Romance received an anime adaptation produced by Arvo Animation, directed by veteran Yoshiaki Iwasaki (Love Hina, We Never Learn: BOKUBEN). The adaptation features a talented voice cast with Haruka Shiraishi as Reiko Kujirai and Tomokazu Sugita as Hajime Kudō. The anime adaptation has been praised for its mature approach to romance and science fiction elements, with critics noting its refreshing focus on adult characters navigating complex emotions. The series has maintained a solid 7.69 rating on MyAnimeList, with viewers particularly appreciating the anime's faithful recreation of Mayuzuki's atmospheric artwork and the nuanced character interactions.

Reviews of the first five episodes have been largely positive, with critics highlighting the show's unique setting, deliberate pacing, and emotionally satisfying character arcs. While some have noted concerns about the adaptation potentially rushing through the source material, most agree that Kowloon Generic Romance is one of the most emotionally resonant and mature offerings of the Spring 2025 anime season. Beyond the anime, a live-action film adaptation is also in production, scheduled to open in Japanese theaters in August 2025. This multi-format expansion demonstrates the growing popularity and critical recognition of Mayuzuki's work.

Kowloon Generic Romance is not an easy manga. Not because it’s hard to follow (though at times it is), but because it settles into a corner of your soul from which it asks questions we don’t always want to answer. What defines us? Are we the sum of our memories or the echo of what others expect us to be? Jun Mayuzuki has created a work that challenges traditional genres and engages the reader on emotional, philosophical, and sensory levels. It’s a love story, but also about the impossibility of loving when you don’t know who you are, about yearning for a life that might not belong to you, about the ephemeral beauty, and about the tragedy of repetition. At a time when so many stories rush to spoon-feed us everything, Kowloon Generic Romance dares to be ambiguous, to build its narrative like a dense fog that never fully lifts. And perhaps that’s what makes it so unforgettable.