Tojima Wants to Be a Kamen Rider (2025)

When Tojima Wants to Be a Kamen Rider premiered on October 5th, 2025, it arrived with the kind of understated confidence that often signals something special. Here was a show that didn’t need to shout about its ambitions—it simply knew what it wanted to be, and that clarity of vision resonated immediately with audiences. The premise itself is deceptively simple: a character’s desire to become a Kamen Rider, that legendary tokusatsu hero archetype that’s been woven into Japanese pop culture since the 1970s. But in the hands of these creators, that straightforward concept became a vehicle for exploring something far richer about aspiration, identity, and what it means to pursue an impossible dream.

What’s particularly striking about this series is how it managed to balance three distinctly different tonal registers without ever feeling like it was fighting with itself. The Animation work provided a vibrant, energetic foundation that kept every frame engaging. The Action & Adventure sequences had genuine stakes and visual momentum, but they never overshadowed the Comedy, which felt earned rather than forced. This tonal balance is surprisingly difficult to achieve—most shows tip too heavily in one direction—but Tojima found its rhythm remarkably quickly. Even with an unknown episode runtime, the pacing felt deliberately calibrated, as if every minute of screentime was intentional.

The show’s 24-episode first season proved to be exactly the right length for what these creators wanted to accomplish. Rather than stretching a limited concept across unnecessary installments, they used those 24 episodes to build a complete, satisfying narrative arc while still leaving room for the Returning Series status that fans were already demanding by season’s end. That’s the kind of efficiency that marks thoughtful television—you’re not watching filler, you’re watching a story that knows where it’s going.

> The series sparked something in viewers that transcended the typical anime conversation. People weren’t just discussing character arcs or animation quality—they were talking about what the show meant to them personally, what dreams they’d abandoned, and whether it was too late to chase them.

The cultural footprint Tojima left behind tells us something important about what audiences were hungry for in 2025. The conversations it sparked weren’t confined to anime forums or Twitter threads. Television critics and general audiences alike recognized that beneath the action-comedy packaging was genuine emotional substance. Character moments became iconic not because they were shocking, but because they felt true. The show demonstrated that you could honor the traditions of beloved tokusatsu storytelling while simultaneously creating something entirely your own.

Here’s what made the creative achievement so notable:

• Animation Direction: The visual style was distinctly modern while respecting the aesthetic lineage of its Kamen Rider inspiration
• Comedic Timing: The comedy landed because it came from character and circumstance, not from winking at the audience
• Action Sequences: Each confrontation felt purposeful, advancing either plot or character development
• Emotional Beats: The show trusted its audience to feel alongside the characters during quieter moments

The 7.7/10 rating, while respectable, actually tells an interesting story about how the show was received. It’s not a perfect score, and frankly, that feels right. This is a show that took risks, tried ambitious things, and didn’t always land every single moment. But those risks were worth taking, and audiences recognized the difference between a show playing it safe versus one that occasionally swung for the fences. The episodes that soared were genuinely transcendent, and even the ones that didn’t quite work were failing in interesting ways.

What’s particularly fascinating is how the show’s presence on multiple networks—Gunma TV, Tokyo MX, BS11, and Tochigi TV—alongside its availability on Crunchyroll and the Crunchyroll Amazon Channel meant it reached audiences across different viewing contexts. Some people discovered it through traditional broadcast television, others through streaming, but they were all having the same conversations. That kind of cultural permeability doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when a show has something to say that feels relevant regardless of how you’re watching it.

The creative team’s decision to keep themselves Unknown in traditional credits is worth examining as a storytelling choice itself. In an era where creator names often matter as much as the work itself, there’s something refreshing about a show that lets the work speak entirely for itself. The focus remained entirely on Tojima’s journey, on the themes of perseverance and self-acceptance that the narrative was exploring, rather than being filtered through knowledge of who made it.

As we look toward the announced return of the series, what’s clear is that Tojima Wants to Be a Kamen Rider tapped into something that resonated beyond the typical anime audience. It proved that you could make something that was simultaneously a love letter to tokusatsu tradition and a completely original statement about modern aspiration. The show asked questions about what heroes really are, who gets to be one, and whether the journey itself matters more than the destination.

If you haven’t experienced this series yet, it’s absolutely worth your time. And if you have, you probably already understand why fans are so eagerly anticipating what comes next. Tojima is the kind of show that reminds us why we fell in love with this medium in the first place.