To put it plainly, Banana Fish might be the least binge worthy piece of media I’ve ever seen…in the best possible way.

At its core, this series is your standard crime thriller, filled to the brim with heart-pounding action sequences, cliffhangers, and compelling protagonists. Rather than devote the first few episodes to set-up and steadily build up to a climax, however, Banana Fish adopts an almost off-the-rails approach—from the start, each episode is chock full of world-building elements and gun-fire sequences, practically to the point of bewildering the viewer. In the first two episodes alone, we’re introduced to numerous seemingly distinct plotlines: gang dynamics in New York City, Ash’s vendetta against Golzine, Eiji’s disillusionment with the status quo, unresolved trauma from Ash’s childhood, and the meaning of the elusive “banana fish.”

That said, these creative choices constitute far more than a lazy exposition dump, serving to introduce the viewer to the grander narrative that lies in store and cause them to question the dynamics governing the show’s world. Indeed, out of respect for the show’s hefty world-building, I hardly ever watched more than two episodes at once, simply because I had to mentally sift through each episode’s events to avoid feeling overwhelmed. Consequently, each episode only felt more exciting than the last, since I knew I was one step closer to resolving my questions and could always count on an action-packed sequence. With each new revelation, I was forced to constantly challenge my assumptions and kept on my toes, making the ultimate narrative payoff all the more striking. Episodes 9-13, in particular, are quite possibly the best anime arc I’ve had the pleasure of watching, somehow managing to fuse pure shock factor with introspective dialogue and well-choreographed fighting, all while keeping Ash and Eiji’s relationship at the forefront.

Speaking of Eiji’s relationship with Ash, I cannot give enough praise to their character writing, particularly given this anime’s genre. Focusing entirely on the revenge plot line and sacrificing the characters’ development would’ve been an easy cop-out, and the merits of the action alone would nonetheless made Banana Fish a good anime in its own right. The show’s skill in giving equal care to both aspects, however, is what truly distinguishes it, drawing the viewer firsthand into each character’s psyche. Rather than rely on “love at first sight” or “unrequited love” tropes—again, an effortless cop-out, given the cult of personality initially surrounding Ash—their relationship is given space to organically develop. Beyond the politics governing gang life, Ash and Eiji are teenage boys at their core, and their relationship is written accordingly. Each character embodies what the other lacks, making for a classic instance of “opposites attract” that seems so outlandish that you can’t help but support it.

Ash, for instance, is the more obvious case: a powerful gang boss, riddled with trauma and shoehorned into a role he never sought, lacking genuine companionship throughout his life. For all his strengths, I felt his character was written rather realistically; like any teenager, he acts rashly and bottles up his trauma, adopting a “me against the world” mentality and taking on challenges alone (to his detriment). In other words, remove some of the exaggerated “gang boss” elements and you get the core of an average teenager, overwhelmed by their surroundings and acting the best way they know how, which oftentimes isn’t the easiest or healthiest way. Consequently, notwithstanding the gravity of his talents and trauma, his unguarded discussions of his vulnerabilities allowed me to empathize with his character. To those in the show, Ash may seem like an idealized leader, yet many of us can likely resonate with his feelings of isolation and disillusionment with society, as well as the need to put on a facade to scrape by.

Naturally, this is where Eiji—a somewhat sheltered and naive, yet equally rash individual, similarly disillusioned with his surroundings—comes in as Ash’s opposite. Though he may not have to contend with the reality of gang warfare, I’d argue his character is similarly nuanced. Rather than rely on the example of the “textbook” introvert who everyone is miraculously drawn to, the show depicts both positive and negative aspects to Eiji’s timid nature, and his shortcomings act as a constant source of ridicule throughout the story. That said, introversion is not synonymous with complacency and a lack of agency (as many writers seem to think); indeed, he’s rather unsure of himself in the first half, actively striving to break free of his shell with varying degrees of success. These flaws aid in humanizing his character and ultimately make his later development all the more satisfying, serving as a heartwarming example of overcoming one’s fears. Likewise, his character progression occurs in a palatable, realistic manner: though his soft-spokenness never completely fades, he learns to recognize his own worth and act accordingly, gradually coming into his own without resorting to uncharacteristic measures.

It’s precisely Eiji’s groundedness that draws Ash to him, acting as a welcoming contrast to the unrelenting chaos of gang warfare. Above all, the extent to which they care and benefit from one another could not be more readily apparent: Ash finds new purpose in working with Eiji, who values him for his authentic self (rather than his public persona), while Eiji is pushed beyond what he thought possible in his endeavors to protect Ash. Meaningful heart-to-heart exchanges and realistic banter add depth to their connection as the show unfolds, making for one of my favorite relationships in all of anime.

Rather than dive right into fights and action sequences, as so many contemporary anime seem to fall victim to, Banana Fish takes the time to flesh out each character’s motivations to give these confrontations the emotional significance they deserve. It may not be perfect—admittedly, some repetitive aspects drag ever so slightly in the show’s second half—yet its flaws are more than outweighed by the grander picture, which fosters an absolutely enrapturing, emotionally thrilling experience I’d be hard pressed to find in any other anime. Paired with its unique fusion of American and Japanese cultural ideals, this show truly makes for a one-of-a-kind watch, and the flood of emotions I felt during my first watch is something I will never forget.