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Story:
Wind Breaker Season 2 is started with the exact same low-key but engaging premise-trading blows and somewhat confusing setup that leaves you wondering what exactly is going on. At first, I thought it was going to be the same formula as Season 1: full-on fighting with little complexity. But as I delved deeper into the first episode, things began to shift. What seemed initially to be another senseless bout turned into something emotional and character- driven.
This season does an excellent job of world-building and its characters. The cast is no longer made up of just main faces. Instead, it's more of a real gang-based story, ... where we get to see several different perspectives and motivations, so the story is more realistic and grounded. My favorite thing that they've changed is the way the fights work-they're no longer punches with a dash of tears. Then, each fight has an emotional core, which in most cases is character conflict or character development.
We also gain a better view of the world, seeing how various gangs are spread out all across the city in strange places and circumstances. It's better than Season 1, which was more of a straightforward tournament arc. The pacing is lower here, and although I did see a decline in animation quality, the story and characters compensated for it.
While the overall plot of this season wasn't as great, it lays good foundations and tension for the future.

Art/Animation:
The art itself is fine, and in some scenes actually works very well against the atmosphere. However, in my
opinion, one of the show's weaker aspects. Some character designs are actually great, but some of them are super generic- like you've already seen the same faces in dozens of other anime. The big side charecters/villains especially might seem lazy or melodramatic. For example,(f minor spoiler warning just skip to the next paragraph} Endo is a dead ringer for Boa Sandersonia from One Piece, overall character design isn't really that special and ends up being cliché way too often.
As for the animation, it's adequate. There are some moments of fluidity and flair, but overall, it's a slight regression from Season 1. Some of the fight scenes are wonderful, but some are less intense or clear, perhaps because the camera angles aren't as good. Nevertheless, it works, and I wasn't too dissatisfied.

Sound:
The voice acting is good. The actors are well-suited for the characters, and nothing felt out-of-whack, though I wouldn't necessarily say that anything really stood out to me. The background music and OST, however, are very nice. They add to the scenes just perfectly-especially during the final episode and help improve the emotional points when necessary. While I wouldn't go out of my way to hear the soundtrack on its own, it most definitely performs its role well within the context of the show.

Characters
This is where Season 2 shines. How the show goes deeper into character dynamics is astounding. We learn about the personalities, agendas, and war between a larger cast of characters, and the show is so much more alive and intricate. It's not about some overpowered main character getting all the fights with little opposition. Instead, the show does focus on group work, social dynamics, and psychological tension between gangs and within.
The character development also feels natural and well-timed. Each character from the main gang-and even the supporting characters-does get their turn to shine. Watching them socialize with the MC and grow out of them is one of the best aspects of the season. If you know, you know-some of those moments hit deep.

Enjoyment:
All in all, Wind Breaker Season 2 was a highly enjoyable ride. It strikes a nice balance of emotion, narrative, character growth, and fight choreography. While it's a bit more slow-paced than the first season and something I wouldn't personally watch again, it's still one of the more memorable anime seasons to have come out this year.

[ MINOR SPOILERS!!! ]
"In this world, is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entity or law? Is it like the hand of God hovering above? At least it is true... that man has no control, even over his own will."


These are the first words that greet you in Berserk, a manga that doesn't so much tell a story as carve it into you. Kentaro Miura's masterpiece begins with this grim, introspective monologue-and from that moment on, you're invited into a world that is both devastating in its cruelty and awe- inspiring in its grandeur. There are many stories about revenge, ambition, trauma, and ... willpower, but few with the artistic precision and emotional weight that Berserk carries. It is not just the darkest fantasy manga I've read; it's the most human.

My first image of Guts came years before I picked up the manga: a lone warrior silhouetted against the eclipse, a slab of iron slung over his shoulder. Not a sword—a slab of iron. As Miura writes, "Too big to be called a sword. Too thick, too heavy, too rough. It was more like a large hunk of iron." The line is poetic in its brutality, and it perfectly encapsulates the tone of the series: raw, heavy, and relentless.
At first glance, Guts appears to be the archetypal antihero-stoic, unstoppable, brutal. But as the narrative slowly unwinds, that image fractures. What Miura does so brilliantly is not just deconstruct a man, but the myth of strength itself. Beneath the fury, beneath the endless battles and bloodshed, lies a portrait of unbearable suffering-and the staggering persistence to live in spite of it. Berserk is less concerned with the triumph of the human spirit than it is with its refusal to die.


It's difficult to speak of the plot without diminishing the experience. The series spans generations, ideologies, and the very fabric of fate itself, from the feudal politics of Midland to the metaphysical terror of the God Hand. The Golden Age arc, a beautifully tragic bildungsroman, lulls you into a false sense of hope-only to annihilate it with perhaps the most infamous turning point in manga history. It's here that Miura doesn't just break the characters-he breaks the reader.
And yet, Berserk never becomes nihilistic. It approaches despair, peers over the edge, and then claws its way back-bloody and battered. Guts' journey becomes an act of defiance against the very structure of causality. Fate is real in this world, and so are gods. But they are cruel, indifferent, and monstrous. So what does it mean to resist? What does it mean to fight, knowing you were born to lose?
Miura's answer is found not in victory, but in motion. Keep moving forward. That is the ethos of Berserk. Guts fights not because he believes in salvation or justice, but because standing still would mean surrendering to oblivion. The story becomes a meditation on persistence, on survival-not the fantasy of escaping pain, but the choice to live alongside it.

“Even if we painstakingly piece together something lost, it doesn’t mean things will ever go back to how they were.”
— Guts


Much has been said of the art, and it deserves every word of praise. The later volumes of Berserk are some of the most intricately detailed pages in all of manga-cathedrals of linework, nightmares brought to life. Miura's style evolves from gritty realism to operatic horror and finally to transcendent beauty. There are full spreads that feel like the Sistine Chapel filtered through hell. And unlike so many action-heavy series, the spectacle never outpaces the emotion. When Guts swings his sword, we feel the weight-not just of the weapon, but of everything he carries.

What elevates Berserk beyond its genre is its emotional vulnerability. Among all the blood and steel, the story pauses-quietly, almost reverently-for moments of tenderness.

“A campfire of dreams. Tiny flames, each fragile on its own… but together, they keep the night at bay.”
— Griffith

Casca's arc, though often the subject of controversy, remains one of the most painful portrayals of trauma I've ever read. Her silence speaks louder than any monologue-but when she does speak, the pain is staggering: "I never asked to be born a woman." In that one line, Miura captures the rage, grief, and injustice she endures in a world that offers her no mercy. Her suffering isn't isolated; it reshapes Guts, too. His grief becomes less about revenge and more about holding together what little remains of the people he loves-not saving them, but simply staying with them, scarred and breathing.

And yes, Berserk is often brutal. Women are brutalized, lives are shattered, dreams are devoured. But none of it is empty. Miura does not revel in suffering-he mourns it. He documents a world that is unjust and cruel and deeply broken, and he asks: what can possibly survive here?
His answer is not a hero, but a man. Not perfect. Not even whole. But enduring. [ Dark souls concept lol ]

“What I want isn’t something someone else gave me. It’s something I found for myself.”
— Guts

By the final chapters before Miura's tragic passing, the tone of the manga begins to shift. The darkness still lingers, but there is something else: grace. Healing. Hope, not as some easy reward, but as a fragile possibility— earned through endless struggle. It's not a redemption arc. It's something more honest. A scarred man in a scarred world, learning, slowly, how to live again.
Berserk is my favorite manga, not because it is flawless, but because it dares to be profoundly human. It is a story about rage and cruelty, yes-but also about love, survival, and the tiniest sparks of light in overwhelming dark. It is art of the highest caliber: fearless, beautiful, harrowing.

and when I close the manga, all I see is the famous panel of guts leaning on his sword with despair, one of the most hard stuck panels in my mind :(.

Alright, let me be straight — Cyberpunk: Edgerunners isn’t just another flashy anime trying to ride the coattails of a popular game. I came in with zero expectations, hadn’t touched Cyberpunk 2077, and honestly didn’t expect to be hit this hard emotionally. But damn, this show threw me into the neon-lit streets of Night City and made me feel everything — hype, despair, love, and heartbreak.

This isn’t your typical cyberpunk story full of tired tropes. Yeah, it’s got the grim future, the tech upgrades, and all that high-tech low-life grit, but the writing? That’s where it breaks the mold. The story doesn’t spoon-feed you; it ... throws you in, lets you figure things out, and keeps you guessing. You never know who’s gonna survive or what wild turn is coming next. Unlike a lot of recent anime that follow predictable paths, Edgerunners keeps you on your toes with real stakes and no mercy — it’s like Akame ga Kill or Code Geass vibes but with a fresh, modern edge.

Characters here feel like real people, not just archetypes. David’s journey from hopeful kid to a tragic anti-hero isn’t just a plot — it’s gut-wrenching. The way the show builds relationships is subtle but powerful. You don’t get heavy-handed flashbacks or forced sympathy; you just grow to care about these flawed, broken people naturally. And when the inevitable hits — and trust me, it does — it hits hard. I was not ready to say goodbye to some of these characters, and yeah, I actually cried. The pain and loss are real, and the show isn’t afraid to make you feel it.

The world-building nails that gritty Night City atmosphere, even if sometimes the streets feel a bit empty — but honestly, the loneliness and isolation that come with that just add to the mood. The animation is gorgeous when it counts, especially during fight scenes and the electrifying soundtrack that perfectly captures the cyberpunk energy.

The romance in the series is raw and complicated, especially the dynamic between David and Lucy, and the unrequited love from Rebecca that tugs at your heartstrings. It’s messy, painful, and real — no sugar-coating here.

If there’s one thing I’d say could’ve been expanded, it’s a bit more backstory for some side characters, but maybe that mystery fits the world they live in. The ending? It’s brutal and bittersweet — not the happy ending you might want, but it’s fitting for the story’s tone. I wanted to believe there was a light at the end for David, but sometimes the neon city just swallows you whole.

Also, gotta shout out to that song “I Really Want to Stay at Your House” — seriously, it wrecked me emotionally. The perfect soundtrack moment that sticks with you long after the credits roll.

Cyberpunk: Edgerunners is a must-watch if you want a cyberpunk anime that doesn’t just look cool but also feels real. It’s a wild, emotional ride that left me hooked, heartbroken, and wanting more. After I finished the anime, I finally jumped into the Cyberpunk 2077 game—and no joke, it quickly became one of my favorite games ever. If you’re looking for a show that stays with you and a game that delivers, this combo’s got you covered.



I couldn't wait for you to come and clear the cupboards
But now you're gone and leaving nothing but a sign
Another evening, I'll be sitting reading in-between your lines
Because I miss you all the time

So, get away
Another way to feel what you didn't want yourself to know
And let yourself go
You know you didn't lose your self-control
Let's start at the rainbow
Turn away
Another way to be where you didn't want yourself to go
And let yourself go
Is that a compromise?

STOPPPPP PLEASE NO MORE!!!!!!

In an anime landscape dominated by flashy action, predictable tropes, and endless romantic tension, Orb: On the Movements of the Earth arrives like a whispered secret—subtle, profound, and unrelenting. This show isn’t about supernatural powers or epic battles; it’s about the quiet but monumental struggle of ideas against oppression. It explores a time when challenging the church’s teachings wasn’t just heresy—it was a death sentence.

On the surface this is a show about how science won out over backwards theology. Science is fucking epic and it beat the church's stupid }&oRBass with facts and logic. Thanks to our modern perspective on the model of the universe, ... that is an easy way to interpret this show.

However this is really an anime about how the state and the prevailing belief system we live under exists through violence and and terror. It wasn't just people being backwards that kept people believing in geocentrism--it was torture, murder, and fear. The only hope for escaping such a regime is to be ready to suffer and die pointlessly; until you and your fellow heretics can overwhelm its enforcers, who will basically always win, nothing changes. All that the heretics can do is to "simply accept the nightmare that confronts [them]." Only those who are truly determined to lose everything else for their beliefs make any real contribution to the furthering of those beliefs.

And beyond simple torture, the state is always ready to exploit anything someone cares about: friends, family, possessions, works, in order to ensure its interests are put above all else. The show is accurately nightmarish in its depiction of state power and willingness to violence. The main villain of Orb is one of the most genuinely terrifying people depicted in animation since Ed Wuncler from The Boondocks.

It's also an anime about the hope of discovery and the personal fulfillment of having complete conviction in your own beliefs. People who seemed to be in complete despair despite believing in the eternal paradise afterlife of church orthodoxy found much greater hope in the belief that the church was wrong. The idea that prevailing ideology is wrong and there is a better way is a powerful motivator, even allowing many to believe that destroying the prevailing ideology is worth sacrificing themselves and handing the torch to the next generation.

This is a show that visually depicts the highest beauty, with incredibly gorgeous images of the unfiltered night sky as we would see it without modern light pollution. It also depicts the horrors that people are capable of, with marathon torture sessions in dark basements--however, it is not torture porn, and does so in a tasteful way. The character designs are unique but fitting for medieval Poland; no one feels out of place. The background art likewise is fantastic. There is also great attention paid to the lighting; since this was pre-electricity, scenes are often much darker than they would typically be, and used in a way that add a lot of tension.

The characters are well-developed, even when they last an episode or two. Each has their own unique motivations, fears, relationships, quirks, and arcs. The longest-lived character seems to be a constant, but by the end has clearly started to change. It would be easy to say that you're rooting for the protagonists to prove their beliefs, but that isn't actually true. They add the very real complexity of people who believe things that are true and want to prove it, but are awful people who you don't really want to win.

This show is a gem, a rare anime depiction of European history that really works. Also c'mon the show is named "Orb". Watch the Orb show. Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.
Orb.

Pluto is an anime that balances thought-provoking storytelling with emotional depth and visuals. With only 8 hour long episodes it tells a complete and resonant story without ever feeling rushed or bloated. Each episode is dense with meaning, deliberate in its pacing and crafted with purpose. This is not just a sci-fi murder mystery—Pluto is a human story told through machines.

The story follows Gesicht, a robot detective investigating a series of murders targeting the world’s most advanced robots and key human figures. What starts as a gripping murder mystery slowly reveals itself to be a complex meditation on identity, memory, grief and the scars of ... war. Both robots and humans are presented as flawed, emotional beings—capable of love, guilt and suffering. The lines between them blur quickly and intentionally.

What stands out the most is the emotional weight of each episode. Characters are not tools to move the plot—they are the story. From Gesicht’s personal struggles with forgotten memories to Epsilon’s quiet strength to Uran’s innocence and empathy, each arc adds layers. Even the antagonists are treated with nuance and tragedy and you find yourself thinking about violence, vengeance and forgiveness.

The animation is great. Not just the action scenes (which are dynamic and impactful) but also the subtle character expressions and atmospheric details. Facial animations, body language and pacing of movement are all well done making quiet conversations as engaging as any battle. The series doesn’t rely on flashy visuals—it delivers realism and precision that feels grounded and immersive.

The art direction deserves special mention. Pluto’s muted color palettes, detailed environments and grounded visual style creates a heavy emotional tone that matches the themes perfectly. The visuals aren’t just about spectacle—they reinforce the atmosphere of melancholy, tension and introspection. In anime what many call “cinematography” translates to scene composition, color theory and layout design—and Pluto excels in all of these areas.The Japanese voice acting is also great. Every performance feels natural and connected to the character’s emotional state. Gesicht’s voice in particular is perfect for a character torn between his programming and his conscience. The music is subtle but effective and never overpowers the scene.

What makes Pluto truly special is how much it trusts the audience. It doesn’t explain things. It doesn’t go for constant twists or empty spectacle. It slows down, lets you sit with complex ideas and gives you space to think. Themes of transhumanism, the psychological aftermath of war and existential dread are not just touched on—they are explored.

Pluto is not a typical anime. It’s slow, dense, and unafraid to dwell in silence or moral ambiguity. But it’s also one of the most intelligent, moving, and visually refined anime in recent memory. For those who appreciate character-driven, philosophical storytelling, this series is nothing short of extraordinary.

A rare gem—unflinching, poetic, and deeply human.

“Hatred will never be erased. The only hope we have is to learn to live with it... and still choose peace

The Fable is one of the most unique anime to come out in recent years. It’s about a professional hitman who’s told by his boss to take a break from killing and live a “normal” life for a year—no assassinations, no fighting, no trouble. Just live quietly under a fake identity with his “sister.” It sounds like a setup for a gag anime, but what we get is a surprisingly deep and clever series that mixes dark comedy, intense action, and subtle character development in a way that’s hard to describe and harder to forget.

Story – 10/10
The story is easily the anime’s strongest point. While ... the premise is simple, it’s executed masterfully. Watching Akira (aka “The Fable”) awkwardly try to blend into society while suppressing his instincts creates some of the funniest and tensest moments I’ve seen in a while. The plot constantly shifts between calm, everyday slice-of-life moments and brutal underworld drama, but never feels disjointed. Even when nothing "big" is happening, it’s strangely compelling.

Characters – 9/10
Akira is a standout protagonist. He barely talks, is socially clueless, and treats everyday life like a battlefield—but somehow, you end up loving him. His “sister” Youko steals every scene she’s in. She’s chaotic, loves to drink and tease men, and is secretly just as dangerous as Akira. The supporting cast—gangsters, civilians, coworkers—all feel real and serve the story well.

Pacing – Mixed Bag
Here’s where The Fable stumbles. The pacing is slow. Sometimes painfully slow. Scenes drag on longer than they need to, and it often feels like the show is stretching things out just to meet a 25-episode count. If you’re binging it, it’s more manageable. But watching it weekly? The drawn-out cliffhangers and slow scenes can be frustrating.

Animation – 7/10
The animation is serviceable, but not amazing. Action scenes are well-directed and choreographed—especially the hand-to-hand fights—but outside of those, things can look a bit flat. It’s clear the studio had a limited budget. That said, the character expressions are solid, and nothing looks bad, just underwhelming at times.

Sound – 9/10
The voice acting is excellent across the board. Akira’s VA perfectly captures his weird, emotionless vibe. Youko’s voice actress balances her playful menace and sincerity flawlessly. And the opening theme by ALI? Absolute banger—right up there with their other hits like Beastars and *J

“You don't have to understand everything. Just live. That's enough.” — The Fable

Highly recommended. 9/10.

"No scientist can resist the lure of the unknown!"
— Rintarou Okabe, a.k.a. Hououin Kyouma

There are some stories that don’t just entertain you—they change how you see storytelling itself. Steins;Gate is one of those rare few. A masterclass in sci-fi narrative design, character development, and emotional payoff, Steins;Gate isn’t merely a tale about time travel—it’s a story about human fallibility, love, loss, and the irreversibility of consequence. It is not only my favorite anime, but a defining experience in my anime-watching life.

Story — 10/10
The premise begins in seemingly light territory: Rintarou Okabe, a self-proclaimed "mad scientist," spends his days in a modest apartment-turned-lab with his ... childhood friend Mayuri and his hacker sidekick Daru. Their life is filled with bizarre inventions and delusions—until a discovery turns everything upside down. A modified microwave, a text message, and a mysterious disappearance unlock a terrifying truth: their gadget can send messages to the past.

From that moment, the story descends into a tightly woven labyrinth of timelines, butterfly effects, and the existential weight of consequence. The genius of Steins;Gate lies in its ability to transform from quirky slice-of-life into a pulse-pounding thriller that leaves you breathless with every episode. The pacing is deliberately slow at first, but like a carefully constructed experiment, once it activates—around episode 8 or 9—it launches into emotional and intellectual overdrive. Each action has a reaction, each wish has a cost.

And unlike many stories that fumble the landing, Steins;Gate delivers an ending that is not only satisfying—it’s poetic. No plot hole is left unexplained, no narrative thread is abandoned. As Okabe would say, “Remember: reading Steiner never lies.”

Art — 8/10
While the visual presentation of Steins;Gate may not dazzle with high-budget fireworks, it excels in atmosphere. The muted color palette and sharp lighting choices give the show a grounded, eerie feeling that perfectly complements the themes of paranoia, scientific obsession, and existential dread. Character designs are unique and memorable (especially Okabe's iconic lab coat and Kurisu's deadpan expressions), and the visual consistency is admirable. There are no abrupt dips in quality—only a moody, urban Tokyo setting that reflects the psychological tension beneath the surface.

Sound — 9/10
From the haunting opening theme, “Hacking to the Gate,” to the subdued silence in its most somber scenes, the sound design in Steins;Gate is subtle but powerful. It knows when to stay quiet and when to pierce the moment with emotion. But what truly elevates the audio experience is the voice acting—especially Mamoru Miyano’s performance as Okabe, which captures madness, grief, charisma, and comedy all at once. His maniacal laugh ("El Psy Congroo!") becomes a battle cry for viewers, a symbol of resistance against fate.

Characters — 10/10
This is where Steins;Gate shines brightest. The characters are not archetypes—they are people. Okabe starts as a hilarious madman and slowly reveals layers of pain and depth as he endures failure after failure. Kurisu, the tsundere genius with a buried vulnerability, becomes the heart of the story. Mayuri, seemingly the cheerful airhead, represents everything pure and innocent that time cannot protect. Even supporting characters like Suzuha, Moeka, and Daru have arcs that ripple meaningfully through the plot.

There is real emotional evolution here, especially in Okabe’s character. His transformation isn’t just compelling—it’s deeply human. As he says, “Theories are nothing more than words. Accept what you’ve seen.”

Enjoyment — 10/10
Steins;Gate is the rare anime that made me laugh out loud, sit in stunned silence, and cry quietly to myself—all in a single sitting. It invites you to think, to feel, to theorize, and most importantly, to hope. It’s not only about time travel, but about what we’d risk to protect the people we love. It explores grief, guilt, and the moral complexity of playing God, all without ever losing its humanity.

Once you’ve reached the end, the journey lingers. You’ll think about it when you see a microwave. You’ll hear “tu-tu-ru~” in your head randomly. And you’ll smile, because you know what you’ve witnessed is something unforgettable.

Final Thoughts

Steins;Gate is not perfect because it does everything flawlessly—it’s perfect because of how much heart it carries beneath the science and paradoxes. It teaches us that even when the future is uncertain, it’s still worth fighting for. And above all, it shows us that sometimes, just sometimes, we can find the perfect word line—the one where things can finally be okay.

"You know too much. Farewell, my fellow mad scientist."

Score: 5/10

Nine Peaks is a manga that, on the surface, seems like it has all the ingredients of a great delinquent story: sharp art, cool character designs, and a time-travel twist that brings something fresh to the genre. But as much as I wanted to enjoy it, I found myself constantly feeling detached from the story and its characters.

Let me start with the positives. The artwork is easily the highlight. Characters are drawn with a bold, gritty style that suits the rough atmosphere of a yankii manga. Fights are dynamic, the paneling is clean, and the character designs are visually distinct. From a visual standpoint, ... it's definitely well-executed.

The story premise is also interesting—mixing school delinquent drama with a time-travel plotline has a lot of potential. It starts off intriguing, and the setting does create opportunities for strong drama and action. But unfortunately, the execution just doesn’t live up to that promise.

The biggest issue? Pacing. Everything in Nine Peaks feels extremely rushed. Important events and character interactions are crammed into very short spans, and before you can process what's happening, the plot has already jumped ahead. Major story beats feel like they come out of nowhere, and there’s little time given for development or emotional weight.

I started reading Nine Peaks when it was first being released, so I was following it week to week. This made the pacing issue feel even worse. One week you’re introduced to a new character or setup, and by the next chapter, they’re already irrelevant or defeated. Things just happen out of nowhere—characters show up, get into a fight, and disappear without leaving any impression. I never felt anything for them because the story doesn't give you the time to care. No buildup, no payoff—just rapid progression with no emotional depth.

In a genre that thrives on charisma, rivalries, and character development, Nine Peaks feels like it's just speeding through a checklist rather than letting the story breathe. It wants to be cool and impactful, but doesn’t give itself the time to earn that impact.

In the end, Nine Peaks ends up being style over substance. If you’re just in it for some cool art and quick brawls, it might scratch that itch. But if you’re looking for something that will leave a lasting impression with memorable characters and meaningful arcs, this one might fall short.

MHA spin off, honestly pretty clean and interesting, its pretty nice that horikoshi made a spin off showing us the underground life by, diving us deeper into the MHA series, and making us understand not all hero's are powerful because strength doesnt define our crew its their will to defend the citizens even though its hard and harsh that makes the characters interesting and a bit relatable to some people because our main characters being terrified but still pushing forward is a really great way to show us the city life, that not all high level hero's can participate in, but doesn't mean they don't ... show up sometimes when our main crew cant handle the villain's , this just shows us another perspective of the original my hero academia and its really beautiful, in conclusion I think anyone who watched the original show would love this, me personally I enjoyed this because of the point of perspective horikoshi showed us, sorry for the short review am new here and ty for reading.