About “Aoashi” in a few words:

Aoashi is a sports manga and anime series written and illustrated by Yūgo Kobayashi. The story follows the lives of high school soccer players and their journey to compete in the national championships. With intense action, drama, and humor, Aoashi explores the complexities of sportsmanship and the bonds of friendship that form among teammates.

Meet the characters from Aoashi

Hana Ichijou

Oh Hana, she’s this spark plug of a presence on and off the pitch — loud in the best way, always cheering like she believes her shout can bend physics. She reads the room better than anyone and somehow knows when to be silly and when to be seriously ruthless (she will bench you with a smile, not kidding). She’s the kind of teammate who colors in tactical diagrams with neon pens and also loses her keys three times a week, which is somehow both adorable and infuriating. Also, she claims she hates early mornings but will show up at dawn for drills if there’s coffee and a chance to roast someone’s terrible passing.

Noriko Aoi

Noriko is that quietly fierce energy that holds everything together — the unglamorous backbone, patient but with a temper that could snap like a twig if you mess with Ashito. She pretends not to be into soccer analysis (rolls her eyes), yet she notices patterns in games no one else does and mutters formations in her sleep, I swear. She bakes terrible-looking buns that everyone devours anyway, and she will scold you for not wearing a jacket while simultaneously stealing your hood. There’s a softness to her that’s easy to miss because she’s also that person who will unexpectedly give you the most blunt, useful advice ever.

Nagisa Akutsu

Nagisa is scrubbed-down precision — quiet, almost icy at first, like a machine that only warms up when the match deserves it. He watches ten steps ahead, like chess but with shin pads, and he’ll call out a player’s nickname mid-game and you’ll realize he’s been cataloguing their tells since kickoff. He acts like he doesn’t care about applause (hates it, really) yet he’ll smirk a fraction too long when someone finally notices his interception, which is the softest hypocrisy. Small weird thing: he claims not to own a playlist but hums old pop songs under pressure, which is both creepy and oddly comforting.

Ashito Aoi

Ashito is a live wire, absolutely burning with raw hunger and these ridiculous little rhythms in his feet — watching him is like watching someone fall in love with the ball over and over. He’s got this “I’ll do it my way” streak that makes coaches want to rip their hair out and teammates secretly root harder, because when he’s on, he’s incandescent. He’s emotionally honest to the point of awkwardness (will cry about goals and then immediately eat a bucket of instant noodles), and he claims he hates routine but actually has a pre-match superstition involving a scarf and a weird hop. Honestly, he’s messy, brilliant, stubborn, and somehow the kind of person who drags everyone into believing the impossible.

Eisaku Ootomo

Eisaku gives off big reliable-senpai vibes — calm, slightly sardonic, a touch theatrical in a “I’ve seen your type before” way, and usually the only one who can temper Ashito without yelling. He’s the kind of strategist who quietly rearranges people like chess pieces and then pretends it was improvisation when it totally wasn’t. He loves practical jokes (tiny, cruel, hilarious ones) but will also be the first to run back on defense and the last to leave the locker room if someone’s hurt, which is the whole mood. Fun little detail: he collects old match tickets and insists they’re “historical artifacts,” but then forgets where he put them, classic.

Tatsuya Fukuda

Fukuda-sensei is half-gruff drill sergeant, half-weirdly philosophical mentor who will bench you by saying “grow up” and then spend an hour explaining the geometry of a counterattack. He has this uncanny knack for seeing potential like a talent-scout hawk — ruthless with criticism but also extremely proud when someone actually learns, which is honestly why he’s so beloved (and terrifying). He quotes strange analogies like “soccer is like making curry” and no one knows if he’s being deep or just hungry, but it works? Also, tiny quirk: he hums TV show tunes while drawing tactics and refuses to acknowledge it’s distracting, which is the sort of small hypocrisy that makes him human.