Gachiakuta: When the "Overhype" is Actually Explained By Fans

Senior Journalist -

Gachiakuta is often praised for its art and aesthetic but criticized as structurally messy, with many viewers and readers describing it as full of plot holes rather than purposeful mysteries. When people hear the word “overhyped,” the usual retort is that critics offer no clear explanation or fail to justify their stance... But in this case, we’re providing grounded reasons why the series earns that label. This is not one journalist’s hot take, but a through‑line in impressions from forums, user reviews, and critical write‑ups across anime and manga communities. The series’ central problems, in this community view, cluster around its power system, pacing, character writing, tone, and overarching narrative.​

Worldbuilding and power‑system gaps

Many fans say the Jinki/Vital Instruments system never feels fully codified, so the rules seem to shift whenever the story needs a cool new ability. Discussion threads explicitly complain that basic questions—how many abilities a Jinki can have, what the drawbacks are, how much it can grow—are left so fuzzy that any apparent limitation can be ignored later, which reads as a plot hole rather than mystery.

Early episodes and chapters are called out for heavy exposition about the underworld and Jinki that still fails to clarify how things actually work. Critics note that the world leans hard on trash vs. value symbolism, but the social, political, and economic logic behind the upper world, the Abyss, and the Ground rarely gets the follow‑through needed to make the stakes feel coherent.

Pacing, flash‑forwards, and missing steps

Community complaints frequently target the way Gachiakuta jumps between locations and time frames, leaving gaps in cause‑and‑effect that viewers interpret as narrative holes. One Reddit discussion singles out the tower scene and the second Jabber fight as flash‑forwards that drop the audience into the middle of events, then walk backward to explain what happened, making it feel like key buildup was skipped.

Viewers also point out that Rudo is introduced to Jinki and becomes highly proficient with alarming speed, with little onscreen struggle or clear training arc to justify the jump. Major factions and arcs—such as Cleaner groups or later “big bad” movements—are said to appear, act briefly, and fade without the story clearly framing their ideology, long‑term goals, or relation to the overarching conflict, which many people shorthand as “plot holes in the plotting.”

Character motivation and emotional logic

A recurring criticism from both longform video essays and casual user reviews is that characters often feel like puppets for the plot instead of people whose choices emerge from their trauma and beliefs. Commenters describe Rudo as reactive and aimless beyond generic anger and survival, arguing that his internal goals do not escalate in step with the story’s rising stakes, which makes his big decisions feel shallow or contrived.

Side characters are frequently labeled “robotic” or “trope‑driven”: they enter with a striking design or gimmick, dump exposition or unleash a flashy power, and then recede before their ideals or backstories truly matter. This pattern makes sudden alliances, heel‑turns, or moments of sacrifice feel forced, because the groundwork for those emotional beats is thin or absent, feeding the sense that there are holes in the emotional logic of the narrative.

Tone clashes and defanged stakes

Fans and critics alike complain that Gachiakuta regularly undercuts its own serious moments with out‑of‑place humor or spectacle. Discussions compare its tonal shifts to “Marvel‑style” quips shoved into scenes that should highlight the horror of the Abyss or the cruelty of the class system, which makes earlier tragedy and brutality feel like empty dressing instead of a consistent atmosphere.

Several reviews argue that the intense premise of execution, exile to a lethal trash world, and monsters born from hatred gets blunted quickly by rapid power‑ups and familiar shonen battle rhythms. Once Rudo and other Givers start stacking Jinki feats, the life‑or‑death tension set up in episode 1 feels disconnected from the relatively safe, formulaic progression of later conflicts, so early threats retroactively read as ​hollow.

Let us break down things a bit more, plots and scenes, from fans...

Amo arc: trauma, agency, and logic gaps

Fans are split between calling Amo’s storyline powerful and calling it exploitative and incoherent, but even defenders admit the execution is messy.​​ Long threads argue that Amo is built entirely around grooming and sexual abuse, yet she spends most of her arc as a tool to test or torment the Cleaners, with little agency or growth, so her trauma is used to move the plot while her psychology is barely followed through.​​

Viewers complain about unclear mechanics and motivations: how exactly her hypnosis/possession works, why the Cleaners keep making obviously unsafe choices around her, and how she suddenly shifts from lethal threat to “tragic victim” without a real transition, which reads like the script bending characters to fit a shock backstory.​​

Canvas Town and spellcaster material

Canvas Town is often described as “important but bloated,” and the way information is dumped there makes earlier worldbuilding feel retroactively nonsensical.​

Commenters point out that the spellcaster role, the Angels, and Canvas Town’s politics are introduced very late and very fast, explaining core mechanics and lore that should have anchored earlier arcs; this makes previous stakes and power structures look poorly thought out rather than cleverly foreshadowed.​​

Even fans who like the arc say it goes on too long for what it accomplishes; multiple side interactions are set up with implication of future payoff and then dropped or sidelined, so the narrative weight placed on Canvas Town doesn’t match what those characters and rules actually change later.​​

Raiders Trap / early Cleaner–Vandal arcs

The early dungeon‑style arcs are where some viewers first start calling the story “cool but dumb,” because the spectacle ignores previously stated limits.​

Reactions note that Rudo’s rapid power‑ups, new Jinki applications, and big finishers arrive with almost no training or cost shown on page; when enemies and traps are solved by sudden new uses of powers, earlier tension feels fake in hindsight.​

Several breakdowns of the Raiders Trap arc highlight how enemy tactics, building layouts, and escape routes change as needed for drama rather than matching the earlier map and setup, so it feels like the author is redrawing the maze to keep fights going.​

Lady of Penta / Trash Storm and late‑series stakes

Later arcs escalate the destruction and politics, but some fans feel the show’s own events contradict how dangerous the world is supposed to be.​​

In the Lady of Penta and Trash Storm material, entire buildings and districts are torn apart while main characters walk out with minimal permanent consequences, which clashes with early “fall into the Abyss and you die” framing and makes deaths and injuries around them feel selective.​

Episode‑discussion threads around the post‑Amo episodes mention specific “make that make sense” moments like sudden new weapons (e.g., Riyo with a gun) or off‑screen strategizing that instantly solves problems, giving the impression that critical connective scenes were never properly written.

Structural problems fans call “plot holes”

Beyond individual scenes, a segment of the community describes the entire series structure as a collage of cool ideas that never fully click into a coherent plan. The combination of murky Jinki rules, vague faction agendas, and delayed revelations about the true main villain or central conflict leads some viewers to conclude that the story is being made up arc‑by‑arc rather than following a clear roadmap.

One widely shared negative review flat‑out brands Gachiakuta “just another shōnen fight anime for angry kids,” citing “plot holes, an unconvincing love story, and sloppy writing” that borrow tropes from series like Naruto, My Hero Academia, and D.Gray‑man without resolving contradictions in politics, power balance, or character histories. Between that kind of professional skepticism and threads from disappointed fans who call whole arcs “wasted time,” the dominant critical narrative in these spaces is that Gachiakuta’s style and concepts are strong, but its structural weaknesses are large and frequent enough that they read as too many plot holes rather than isolated rough patches.

And the numbers seem to reflect that perception. The manga didn’t make the top 50 best‑selling manga series or the top 50 best‑selling manga volumes for 2024–25, even after the release of its anime adaptation on July 6, 2025. The anime is close to finishing its run—or done by the time some of you read this—and yet the manga, serialized since February 2022 with 157 chapters and 16 volumes, still hasn’t gained much traction among Japanese fans. Many expected a Demon Slayer Episode 19‑style explosion in popularity to boost sales, but that never came. Dandadan, Sakamoto Days, and The Fragrant Flower Blooms With Dignity all experienced surges after their anime launches, but Gachiakuta didn’t share the same fate. So why aren’t Japanese fans connecting with this series?

Perhaps the structural problems and narrative inconsistencies discussed throughout this review are more than just nitpicks—they may be the very cracks keeping Gachiakuta from greatness.