Few anime capture the quiet weight of depression and the slow, uneven process of healing as honestly as March Comes in Like a Lion (Sangatsu no Lion).
This 2016 series from Studio Shaft is a character-driven drama that treats mental health with care and patience, balancing competitive board game tension with moments of genuine warmth. But is it the right fit for you?
Here are five compelling reasons this anime deserves a spot on your watchlist, and one reason it might not be for everyone.
What is March Comes in Like a Lion about?
March Comes in Like a Lion centres on Rei Kiriyama, a teenager who became a professional shogi player after losing his family in an accident. Living alone in a sparse Tokyo flat, Rei exists in a state of emotional numbness, going through the motions of school and shogi matches without real connection to either. His carefully maintained distance begins to crack when he meets the Kawamoto sisters, Akari, Hinata, and young Momo, who run a traditional sweet shop and gradually draw him into their warm, chaotic family life.
5 Reasons to watch March Comes in Like a Lion
1. It Handles Depression Without Melodrama
The series doesn’t romanticise Rei’s (or others’) mental state or frame it as a plot device to be resolved. Instead, it lingers on the reality of depression: the empty flat, irregular meals, emotional flatness, and the exhausting effort required to maintain basic social interactions. Recovery isn’t linear. Rei makes progress, relapses, pulls away, and inches forward again across both seasons. The Kawamoto sisters offer warmth and stability, but the show understands that kindness alone doesn’t fix trauma. What makes this portrayal effective is its patience. Small moments accumulate, showing how healing happens gradually through repeated, awkward attempts at connection rather than dramatic breakthroughs.
2. Shogi Matches Reveal Character
You don’t need to understand shogi to find these matches gripping. The show uses competitive play as a lens into personality and psychology. Rei’s defensive, calculated style mirrors his emotional walls. His opponents reveal themselves through their strategies: some play aggressively, others rely on intuition, and a few are consumed by anxiety. Director Akiyuki Shinbo employs striking visual metaphors during key games. Players drown in rising water, face down predators, or navigate impossible architecture. These sequences externalise thought processes and emotional stakes, transforming abstract strategy into visceral drama that holds even when you can’t follow the actual moves being made.
3. The Kawamoto Family Feels Real
Akari, Hinata, and Momo aren’t idealised figures who exist solely to heal the protagonist. They’re distinct people with their own struggles. Akari manages the household and sweet shop while processing grief over the deaths in her family. Hinata shows genuine resilience when facing school bullying, but also vulnerability and fear. Momo is a child, not a cute mascot. Their home is warm without becoming saccharine. They have arguments, money worries, and complicated emotions. Rei’s integration into their family happens slowly, with mutual respect for boundaries. Their affection isn’t unconditional acceptance of a broken person; it’s earned through repeated visits, shared meals, and awkward but sincere attempts at connection.
4. The Animation Mirrors Emotional States
Shaft’s production alternates between grounded realism and expressive stylisation. Everyday scenes use naturalistic lighting and muted palettes. When depicting Rei’s internal world, the show breaks into collage, CG effects, watercolour washes, or stark geometric compositions. These shifts reflect how depression distorts perception, making the familiar feel alien or overwhelming. The technique could easily become gimmicky, but it’s deployed with enough restraint to maintain emotional coherence. Kenshi Yonezu’s opening themes and Yuki Kajiura’s soundtrack enhance rather than dominate scenes, supporting the show’s contemplative pacing without demanding attention.
5. Supporting Characters Get Proper Development
The series takes time with its secondary cast. Harunobu Nikaido, Rei’s self-proclaimed best friend, grapples with an illness that threatens his shogi career. Kyoko Koda, Rei’s adoptive sister and former romantic interest, appears as a destructive presence he can’t fully escape. Hinata’s bullying arc extends across multiple episodes, examining institutional failure and bystander guilt with uncomfortable precision. These storylines develop alongside Rei’s journey rather than simply serving as catalysts for his growth. The show treats these characters as people with their own arcs, giving weight to their struggles and victories independently of how they affect the protagonist.
One Reason Not to Watch March Comes in Like a Lion
The Pacing Is Deliberately Slow
March Comes in Like a Lion prioritises atmosphere and internal development over conventional plot momentum. Episodes feature long sequences with minimal dialogue, ambient sound, and contemplative shots of weather or architecture. Characters spend time thinking rather than acting. Storylines span many episodes, with incremental progress. Viewers expecting tidy resolutions within single seasons or fast-paced narrative development will likely find the show frustrating. It demands patience and willingness to sit with discomfort. That’s intentional, reflecting the reality of depression and recovery, but it won’t suit everyone. If you prefer anime that keeps things moving briskly, this might not be the right fit.
Will you watch March Comes in Like a Lion?
If these themes resonate, give March Comes in Like a Lion a chance. It’s available on Crunchyroll and Netflix.
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