Ai Yazawa didn’t just write a manga; she trapped lightning in a bottle and then purposefully broke the glass. If you’ve ever sat through the 47 episodes of the nana and hachi anime, you know exactly what that feels like. It’s that specific, hollow ache in your chest when the credits roll on the final episode, and you realize you’re looking at a fragmented masterpiece that might never actually be finished.
It’s been decades. People still talk about it. Why?
Because Nana isn't a fairy tale. It’s a messy, cigarette-stained, punk-rock disaster that feels more real than 90% of the "prestige" live-action dramas on Netflix right now. You have Nana Osaki, the cool, sharp-edged vocalist of Black Stones (BLAST) who wears Vivienne Westwood like armor. Then you have Nana "Hachi" Komatsu, the girl who falls in love with the idea of being in love, constantly seeking validation from the men around her. They meet on a train to Tokyo. They share an apartment (707, obviously). They change each other's lives in ways that are both beautiful and genuinely destructive.
Honestly, calling it a "music anime" is a total lie. It’s a survival story.
The Brutal Reality of the Nana and Hachi Anime Connection
Most romance anime follow a predictable curve. Boy meets girl, there’s a misunderstanding involving a beach episode, and they eventually hold hands. Nana spits on that curve. The core of the nana and hachi anime isn't the romantic interests—it’s the codependency between these two women.
They are opposites. Nana Osaki wants to be independent to a fault, fearing that being "owned" by someone will erase her identity. Hachi, on the other hand, is terrified of being alone. She clings to Nana Osaki because Nana represents the strength she doesn't think she has. It’s a fascinating, often painful dynamic to watch because you see them project their needs onto each other.
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Let's talk about the name "Hachi." Nana Osaki gives her the nickname—meaning "eight" in Japanese, but also referencing a loyal dog—partly as a joke, but also as a way to claim her. It’s endearing, sure. It’s also kinda messed up when you look at it through the lens of their later separation. They weren't just roommates. They were each other’s anchors in a city that was trying to swallow them whole.
Why the Madhouse Animation Still Slaps
Madhouse, the studio behind the 2006 adaptation, did something incredible with the art direction. They didn't "moe-ify" the characters. They kept Yazawa’s spindly, long-limbed, fashion-illustration aesthetic. The fashion is a character in itself. You see the influence of the London punk scene everywhere—the platform boots, the leather jackets, the padlock necklaces.
And the music? Unreal.
Anna Tsuchiya provided the singing voice for Nana Osaki, giving BLAST a raw, gravelly edge that actually sounds like a band playing in a sweaty basement club. On the flip side, Olivia Lufkin voiced Reira Serizawa from the rival band Trapnest. Her vocals are ethereal, polished, and haunting. The contrast between Rose and A Little Pain perfectly mirrors the tension between the two bands and the two Nanas. One is grit; the other is a gilded cage.
The Trapnest Problem and the Death of Innocence
If you want to understand why fans still debate the nana and hachi anime, you have to look at Takumi Ichinose. He is arguably one of the most polarizing characters in the history of the medium. Some see him as a provider who stepped up when Hachi was at her most vulnerable. Most people, however, see him for what he is: a controlling, calculating strategist who viewed Hachi as a possession to be managed rather than a partner to be loved.
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When Hachi gets pregnant, the show takes a dark turn.
The dream of the two Nanas living together in Apartment 707, raising a child together while BLAST conquers the world, evaporates. It’s a sobering moment. It reflects the real-world pressures of adulthood—how a single choice or a single mistake can derail an entire life plan. The tragedy isn't that Hachi chose Takumi over Nobu (the sweet, golden-retriever guitarist of BLAST). The tragedy is that she felt she had to choose a side at all.
The Missing Ending
Here is the elephant in the room. The anime ends on a cliffhanger. The manga is on an indefinite hiatus since 2009 because of Ai Yazawa’s health. We have "Junko’s Room" segments and flash-forwards that hint at a future where everyone is separated, Nana Osaki has disappeared to England, and Hachi is waiting for her return.
It’s agonizing.
But maybe that’s why it stays with us. Real life doesn't always have a tidy "Conclusion" or a "The End" slide. Sometimes people just drift apart. Sometimes the person who meant the most to you becomes a ghost you chase through old photos and memories. The nana and hachi anime captures that feeling of "the one that got away"—not necessarily a lover, but a version of yourself that you lost.
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How Nana Influenced Modern Seinen and Josei
Before Nana, most josei (manga/anime for adult women) was either strictly workplace drama or very soft romance. Yazawa brought sex, cigarettes, career anxiety, and the darker side of the music industry into the mainstream. She didn't shy away from showing Hachi's "sluttiness" or Nana's crippling abandonment issues.
- Fashion as Identity: The show proved that what a character wears can tell a story just as effectively as dialogue.
- Flawed Protagonists: You aren't always rooting for them. Sometimes you want to shake Hachi. Sometimes you want to tell Nana to stop being so stubborn. That’s why they feel like real people.
- The Soundtrack Impact: It set a gold standard for how to integrate music into an anime's narrative structure without it feeling like a glorified music video.
Facts You Might Have Missed About the Series
- The Vivienne Westwood Connection: Ai Yazawa is a former fashion student. Almost every piece of jewelry and clothing Nana Osaki wears is a real-world Westwood design, including the famous "Armor Ring."
- The "Strawberry" Glass Symbolism: Those cheap, cute glasses they bought for the apartment represent their fragile domestic bliss. When they break, the relationship breaks. It’s a classic, if slightly heavy-handed, metaphor.
- The Voice Acting Legacy: Park Romi (Nana Osaki) also voiced Edward Elric in Fullmetal Alchemist. The range required to go from an alchemist prodigy to a chain-smoking punk singer is immense.
Moving On From the Heartbreak
If you've just finished the anime and feel like you've been hit by a bus, you aren't alone. The community is still active on Reddit and Discord, dissecting every frame for clues about the "true" ending.
To actually process the nana and hachi anime, you need to stop looking for a happy ending. It’s a tragedy about the cost of ambition and the weight of loneliness. It’s about how we use people to fill the holes in our own hearts.
Next Steps for the Nana Fan:
- Read the Manga (Chapters 43-84): The anime covers roughly the first half of the story. If you need to know what happens immediately after the anime ends—specifically the details regarding Hachi’s life with Takumi and the fate of BLAST—the manga is your only source.
- Watch the Live-Action Movies: Mika Nakashima is Nana Osaki. The 2005 film is surprisingly faithful and captures the aesthetic perfectly.
- Listen to the "Best of" Albums: Search for "ANNA TSUCHIYA inspi' NANA" and "OLIVIA inspi' REIRA." These albums contain full versions of the tracks that didn't make it into the episodes.
- Explore Ai Yazawa’s Other Work: If you want something slightly less devastating but just as stylish, Paradise Kiss is a must-watch. It deals with similar themes of fashion and identity but has a more definitive (if bittersweet) conclusion.
The story of Nana and Hachi is unfinished, and in a weird way, that makes it immortal. It exists in a permanent state of longing, much like the characters themselves. Don't wait for a Season 2 that might never come. Instead, appreciate the 47 episodes for what they are: a perfect, painful snapshot of what it means to be young, lost, and deeply in love with a friend who is slowly slipping away.