About “Odd Taxi” in a few words:

“Odd Taxi” is a Japanese anime series that tells the story of a timid taxi driver named Odokawa, who finds himself embroiled in a complex web of mysteries and intrigues involving the various passengers he picks up along the way. With its dark humor, complex characters, and intricate plot twists, “Odd Taxi” has become a hit among anime fans, and has garnered critical acclaim for its unique blend of suspense, comedy, and drama.

Meet the characters from Odd Taxi

Taichi Kabasawa

Taichi is one of those quietly intense types who seems harmless until you realize he notices everything — like, everything — and then you start to worry a little. He’s a bit of a schemer? Or maybe just super strategic, always three steps ahead in a way that looks like accident, which is weirdly charming. Loves neat little rituals (coffee at exactly 8:07), but also has that one messy drawer full of weird receipts, because of course he does. Honestly, he’s the friend who will lend you money and then give you a ten-minute lecture about ethics while making you tea.

Shun Imai

Shun is soft-spoken but razor-sharp, like a plush toy with really suspiciously sharp claws — you don’t expect the claws. He gives off intern-vibes: polite, efficient, secretly very opinionated and not afraid to quietly dismantle your logic at a meeting. He collects postcards for reasons he’ll never fully explain, mentions trains a lot, and sometimes disappears for three hours to “clear his head” and comes back smelling like cedar. Also, he’s nicer than he should be and will absolutely call you out if you’re being dumb, lovingly.

Ayumu Gouriki

Ayumu is the one who makes a room feel like a small, slightly chaotic festival — loud grin, loud jacket, louder opinions. He’s charismatic in that messy, messy way; he’ll rope you into plans at midnight and then bail because he finds a cat or an odd documentary, then text you a meme at 3 a.m. He claims to be practical but will spend hours obsessing over tiny design choices (like the perfect sticker placement), which is equal parts endearing and ridiculous. Honestly, he’s just trying his best and failing spectacularly sometimes, but in a way that you can’t help liking.

Eiji Kakihana

Eiji is utterly theatrical, like he was born under stage lights and refuses to leave; he screams “showbiz” and then apologizes by sending you a handmade apology card. He’s flashy, a bit ruthless in the best kind of ambitious way, and also collects tiny glass animals? Which is weird, but okay. He’ll charm you, negotiate you, and ruin your schedule with charisma, but don’t mistake charm for cruelty — most of the time he’s just terrified and uses drama as armor. Sometimes he’s exhausting, sometimes he’s brilliant, and sometimes he cries in front of his plants; it’s complicated and entertaining.

Miho Shirakawa

Miho is this paradox of pure pop-sunshine and melancholy soup — the kind of idol who smiles like it’s the only thing holding her together. She’s icy-professional on stage, a total soft mess offstage, keeps a ridiculous array of keychains and also an even more ridiculous number of emergency tissues. People assume she’s fragile and she uses that to her advantage sometimes, but she’s tougher than you’d think — like a paper umbrella that won’t bend. And yes, she’s dramatic; yes, she writes in a tiny notebook; and yes, she can probably read you like a book and then pretend she can’t.

Atsuya Baba

Atsuya is the big bear friend who would totally break up a fight and then apologize to both people for the disturbance, you know? Rough around the edges in a lovable way, likes strong coffee and strangely specific trivia about vending machines. He’s loyal to a fault and slightly paranoid about small noises at night, which he swears are just “the house settling” but also checks the locks three times. He’s practical, protective, and will absolutely make you ramen at 2 a.m. if you show up hungover.

Hiroshi Odokawa

Odokawa is the low-key, deadpan legendary taxi driver you tell your secrets to and then forget you told him because he never tells a soul — except he definitely remembers, like forever. He’s dry, observant, kind of a philosopher and a hoarder of cassette tapes and terrible puns, and he moves through the city like he’s part of its furniture. He seems detached but is actually deeply, weirdly connected to everyone, which is why people drop their guard and make messes in his cab. Also he drinks too much coffee, corrects lyrics in his head, and will judge your driving silently.

Yano Rapping

Yano is loud as hell, proud, and oddly vulnerable all at once — he yells on tracks and then gets anxious about leaving the house, classic. He’s all about image and authenticity at the same time, which is a messy pair but somehow works for him; headphones are practically a limb. He brags, he flexes, but he’s also fiercely loyal and writes ridiculously tender lines that he’d never admit are romantic. Oh, and he collects old mixtapes and will try to convince you that vinyl will save the world.

Kenshiro Daimon

Kenshiro is big energy, big ego, and possibly the kind of dad who uses sports metaphors at funerals — which is a terrible image but somehow accurate? He’s authoritative, dramatic, and loud, loves rules until he doesn’t, and insists on moral clarity even when things are morally weird. He’s a leader type but also has weird little superstitions (like tapping a table twice before making a serious decision), which makes him human in a way that cracks his armor. He scares kids a little but is secretly a softie for grilled fish.

Koshiro Daimon

Koshiro comes across as the quieter Daimon, less bluster, maybe more cunning — like a chess player who occasionally forgets his own strategy for snacks. He’s observant, slightly creepy in a “I remember too many details” way, but not always malicious; sometimes he’s just bored. He’d rather snipe with one-liners than get into big fights, and somehow his deadpan jokes always land when they shouldn’t. Also he has a questionable hobby involving model trains and a filing system that’s suspiciously neat.

Kensuke Shibagaki

Kensuke is the polished, suited guy who smells faintly of citrus and regret, the kind who runs things and also makes everyone nervous at meetings. He’s efficient, a little ruthless, and has this poker-face that will make you confess your secrets if you stare long enough. But he has soft spots — a cat photo folder on his phone, a penchant for overcomplicated coffee rituals — which is funny because he pretends to hate sentimentality. Basically, he’s power neatly wrapped in neurotic tiny gestures, and you kind of love to hate him.