About “Undead Unluck” in a few words:

Undead Unluck is a captivating anime that follows the story of Fuuko Izumo, a girl cursed with the ability to bring misfortune to anyone who touches her. This unique power attracts the attention of a mysterious immortal named Andy, who is on a mission to die but needs Fuuko’s assistance. Together, they embark on a wild adventure, navigating a world filled with unusual characters, absurd situations, and unexpected twists. The blend of comedy, action, and supernatural elements keeps viewers on the edge of their seats while exploring themes of friendship, fate, and the meaning of life and death.

Meet the negator abilities from Undead Unluck

Unluck

Unluck is pure chaos wrapped in a smile — the personified disaster magnet who makes misfortune bloom like weeds wherever she goes. She’s impulsive, dramatic, and somehow affectionate (she’ll hug you and your luck will immediately evaporate, sorry), and there’s this weirdly tender streak under the wrecking-ball energy. She smokes, hums old jingles, and swears she doesn’t believe in fate even though she ruins it for everyone. She’s messy, loud, and essential; you notice her because something’s always just gone wrong around her.

Undead

Undead is the walking, groaning stubbornness of immortality — like a patched-up shrine that refuses to fall down no matter how many times it’s kicked. He’s weary and goofy in the same heartbeat, a scarred survivalist who cracks bad jokes while someone staples them back together, and he somehow likes awful coffee. There’s a surprising softness under the curse (he saves useless things like teabags and ticket stubs), and he gets furious if you pity him even though he secretly likes company. He drags along centuries of “you don’t get it” energy but will show up to help after a minute of grumbling.

Untruth

Untruth is the slippery, silver-tongued glitch in reality who makes statements wobble and secrets bloom; it’s like trying to trust a reflection that keeps rearranging itself. Charming and a little theatrical, they adore riddles and double meanings and will smile while reshuffling your memories (not always malicious, sometimes bored). You’ll find mismatched trinkets in their pockets — a key that fits nothing, a chess piece that’s actually a spoon — delightful little contradictions. They seem sincere until they contradict themselves two sentences later and then act surprised; oddly devoted to a private logic all their own. They have this habit of humming the same eerie tune when a lie is about to slip out.

Unrepair

Unrepair hates Band-Aids like a purist who adores broken things for their stories; it’s the force that makes fixes fail, mends come undone, and keeps cracks proudly visible. They are meticulous about how things stay broken — like an artist editing with a sledgehammer — and terribly sweet about it (will explain why glue is sentimental nonsense). Ironically they binge fixer shows at 3 a.m. and cry over antique clocks, which is confusing but kind of adorable. Expect a quiet obsession with the past and a streak of guilt when a failed repair ruins someone’s memory (yes, really).

Unavoidable

Unavoidable is the slow, terrifyingly punctual inevitability given a human face — the kind of presence that makes you hear a clock tick louder whenever they walk into a room. They’re calm, almost parental, with an absurd love for calendars and tiny, precisely stamped envelopes, and then sometimes they’ll do something impulsive like order sushi at midnight, which makes no sense. Their power feels fair in a weird way; consequences line up like dominoes and they admire the aesthetic of a plan that must complete itself. They’re politely unnerving and will offer you tea before delivering the thing you already sensed was coming.