About “Call of the Night” in a few words:

Call of the Night is a Japanese anime series adapted from the manga of the same name by Kotoyama. The story follows a high school student named Ko, who meets a girl named Nazuna while wandering the streets at night. Nazuna reveals that she is a vampire and takes Ko on a journey of self-discovery as they explore the supernatural world and develop a romantic relationship.

Meet the characters from Call of the Night

Ko

Oh man, Ko is the awkward, sleep-deprived hero you can’t help but root for — kind of a walking question mark who finally decides to go wandering at night and never looks back. He’s shy, clumsy with feelings, but stubborn in that quietly determined way, like he’ll learn to be awake if it kills him (figuratively, mostly). He gets weirdly philosophical about streetlights and ramen, and yes he blushes at everything but also will stand up to nonsense when it matters. I swear sometimes he seems older and wiser and then five seconds later he trips over his own shoelaces like a dork; it’s charming, honestly.

Seri

Seri is the slick, maybe-too-cool presence who gives off vampire-adjacent vibes even when she’s just sipping tea in broad daylight (which she totally does, don’t ask how). She’s sharp, teasing, likes to push buttons to see what shakes out — ruthless with honesty, soft with the people she actually cares about, which she rarely admits. There’s this uncanny composure but also tiny tells (a soft laugh, a sudden fluster) that make her oddly real instead of untouchable. Also, she probably owns three different jackets she never wears all at once and definitely pretends not to notice Ko’s face when he gets quiet.

Nazuna

Nazuna is electric — late-night, cigarette-scented, impossible-to-pigeonhole chaos wrapped in a smile, and yes she’s a vampire but it’s more like a vibe than a job description. Playful, manipulative sometimes, but tender under the weird jokes; she’ll offer you advice and then drift away like a cool stray cat, and you’ll be both annoyed and relieved. She seems to know when to push someone and when to rescue them, which is dangerously charismatic, and also she hoards snacks in pockets? I keep forgetting if she actually likes classical music or punk — both, probably.

Kabura

Kabura punches above their weight in every scene — tough, loud, a bit blunt, but with this inexplicable soft spot for tiny things (like, they will rescue a moth and then flex about it). They’re the kind of friend who yells “idiot” affectionately and then pays for your coffee; very contradictory but in a good way. You can tell they act tough to cover a thousand little anxieties, and yet they’ll show up at 3 a.m. if someone’s in trouble, no questions. Also, rumor has it they collect tiny keychains shaped like obscure snacks, which is a whole mood.

Akira

Akira is the observant calm center — not boring, just quietly intense, like someone who reads the room and then drops a perfect, slightly weird comment that makes everyone think. She balances logic and weirdness, loves routine but is unexpectedly impulsive when it counts (don’t expect consistency, that’s part of the charm). She roots for the underdog in a subtle way, and has this habit of doodling tiny moons in the margins of notebooks for reasons she won’t explain. Sometimes she feels older than she looks, sometimes she’s a goof, and both versions are adorable.

Akihito

Akihito feels like the sleepy bookstore uncle who might secretly be a poet or a cryptic encyclopedia of night facts — mellow, kind, kind of ethereal. He gives slow, thoughtful advice and has this soft laugh that makes tense scenes dissolve; also he owns like seven mismatched mugs that he insists are “a set” for reasons known only to him. He appears calm but has a low-key intensity about the night and about people, like he notices the small fractures and treasures them. Occasionally bafflingly playful — don’t be surprised if he shows up with a ridiculous hat.

Anko

Anko is pure sunshine that sometimes trips over a cloud — bubbly, loud, hilariously honest and also secretly dramatic, like an overzealous mascot who writes melancholy poetry at midnight. She’ll cheer you on like you’re a Broadway lead and then sob about a small inconvenience two minutes later; flexible emotional range, 100%. She’s fiercely loyal and maybe a little theatrical, loves cats and hates being underestimated, but will also spend an hour making a playlist for someone’s existential crisis. Oh, and she collects stickers with faces, which makes perfect sense and also none at all.