About “Dororo” in a few words:

Dororo is an action-packed anime series set in feudal Japan, based on the manga by Osamu Tezuka. It follows the story of a young orphan named Dororo and the warrior, Hyakkimaru, who embarks on a quest to reclaim his missing body parts that were stolen from him at birth. Along the way, they encounter a cast of complex characters and powerful demons, all while facing the challenges of a war-torn world. With stunning animation and thrilling battles, Dororo is a must-watch for fans of the genre.

Meet the characters from Dororo

Jukai

Okay, Jukai is that grumpy-genius woodworker/doctor who somehow makes magic out of scrap and a pocketful of stubbornness — he’s endlessly tinkering with prosthetics like he’s trying to outstubborn fate. He acts like he hates people but he’s the kind of soft epicenter everyone collapses into (and yes, he absolutely hums terribly off-key lullabies when he’s nervous). He has this mad-obsessed focus — precision, patience, and a weird habit of carving tiny animals into every spare bit of wood, which he will deny but you will find. Also, he claims to prefer silence but will whistle at 3 a.m. while fixing a hand and then lecture you about discipline; contradictory, but also endearing.

Mio

Mio vibes like the quietly fierce heart of the town — gentle, steady, and somehow carrying more worry than anyone should with a smile that cracks when she thinks no one’s looking. She’s the kind of person who bakes bread and then slips a hidden blade into her sleeve, which is probably not how baking safety guides intended it (but also kind of perfect). Sometimes she seems almost timid, other times she’s the one who quietly decides what needs doing and it happens, no fanfare — that switch is deliciously unsettling. Tiny weird detail: she always loses one glove and pretends it’s a fashion choice, but I’m convinced she’s actually hiding something in it.

Hyakkimaru

The stoic tragic hero with the missing pieces — literal parts of himself gone, and yet somehow more whole than most people, which is the whole point of him and it hits you. He’s painfully earnest, blunt, and startlingly gentle (especially surprising when he’s slicing through demons; don’t ask, it just works). There’s this quiet curiosity about the world that keeps peeking through his battle-scarred armor — he notices birds and children and little injustices in a way that feels fragile and terrifyingly human. He’ll swear he doesn’t care about things like stories or music, then hum a tune he can’t remember the words to while staring at the moon (or maybe he swore he didn’t like music? I can’t remember — either way it’s heartbreaking).

Dororo

Oh Dororo, the chaos sprite with a thief’s grin and a heart that leaks kindness in inconvenient places — loud, fast, rude, and devastatingly clever. She’s the one cracking jokes right before she does something wildly brave (or stupid) and I adore the contrast between the quick tongue and the moments of startling tenderness. She collects odd trinkets (buttons, a single mismatched bootlace, maybe a frog she swore she’d keep but definitely didn’t), and insists she’s a loner while absolutely refusing to let anyone walk away alone. She can be childish and sharp and heroic in the same breath, and yes that makes her impossible to predict and also the best.

Tahomaru

Tahomaru is royal angst in human form — proud, bristly, and trapped between duty and a weird, raw need to prove himself, which makes him kind of a trainwreck and also deeply sympathetic. He swings between smug confidence and sudden, hollow doubt like a pendulum; one moment he’s all swagger, the next he’s staring at his hands like he’s seen something he can’t swallow. There’s a streak of protectiveness that sneaks up on you — he’ll snap at people and then silently, awkwardly try to fix what he broke (sometimes succeeding, often making it weirser). Little oddball thing: he’s strangely obsessed with neat armor polishing, and will get furious if you touch his scabbard, but also forgets to eat breakfast.

Yajiro

Yajiro is the big-hearted brawler-you-didn’t-know-you-needed — rough voice, loud laugh, and somehow the friendliest menace in a crowd. He’s the kind of guy who’ll eat pebbles if you tell him it’s tradition (not literally, but you get the vibe), fiercely loyal and a terrible liar, bless him; he’s transparent in the best way. He can be blundering and surprisingly tender — loves a good fight but will babysit a wounded animal like it’s a royal duty, which is very on-brand and confusing in the best way. Quirk: he insists he hates poetry but will recite a terrible sonnet when drunk and then deny it the next morning with dramatic shame.