Content warning: suicide and domestic abuse

If GeGeGe no Kitarō was Shigeru Mizuki's ode to the world of Japanese folklore, Akuma Kun is his exploration of Abrahamic mysticism. The eponymous Akuma-kun – a title passed from father to son in the context of this series – has a vast knowledge of demons and angels, possesses something called "Solomon's Flute," and casts spells in Hebrew and Latin. It's also much darker, and given how grim Kitaro can get, that's saying something; rather than examining how the outside world impacts people, Akuma Kun explores the darkness of the human psyche, and that makes it a whole lot less subtle than Mizuki's other well-known folkloric series.

While plenty of thematic elements are present in this latest adaptation of Mizuki's work, the one that stands out the most is parent/child relationships. This is built into the story from the start; Ichiro Umoregi, the present bearer of the Akuma-kun title, is the adopted son of Shingo Umoregi, who previous iterations were about. Alongside him is Mephisto III, son of Shingo's partner Mephisto II, and Shingo's sister Etsuko. Both members of the younger generation have very different relationships with their fathers. Mephisto III is close with his dad and all-in on carrying on his work with an Akuma-kun. To his frustration, Ichiro is the opposite – he seems to resent his dad and would rather spend his time reading than working on founding the utopia he's supposed to create; that goes for helping others with their demon problems as well. Although Ichiro does get off his behind and help others (because there wouldn't be much of a story if he didn't), there's always an impression that he's doing so under duress, thinking about what he's supposed to do rather than what he'd like to. Whether that's actually true or not is the central character arc for him, and as the series goes on, we can see that Ichiro is perhaps less disenchanted with his dad and more desperately afraid of losing him. Acting like a brat is a way to keep Shingo around and checking in on him, albeit an immature one.

The theme of parent/child relationships isn't limited to the main characters. In the first half of the series, we have two separate storylines about mothers and daughters, while the latter half focuses on fathers and sons, with one episode being more about the father's role in a family. The mother/daughter stories are much darker than the others, which is interesting, and they zero in on the idea of daughters not wanting to be their mother's second chances: they want to live the lives that they want, not the ones their mothers have planned out for them. This connects to the way Ichiro sees himself and Shingo, but the most important takeaway is how the mothers find it easier to blame anyone but themselves for their actions. Saying, "The demon made me do it," allows them to avoid seeing what they did wrong, and it's Ichiro's role to force them to face their crimes.

That doesn't always work out, no matter what the situation is. We see that particularly well in the stories that comprise episodes seven through nine, which tackle different father stories. The most striking is the episode where the absent husband of Ichiro's landlord returns. He's never met his five-year-old daughter Mio, and even though he has come home, we can see that he's still struggling to accept both his past actions and that the "home" he's returned to isn't exactly the one he left. The pain he causes may or may not be equal to the pain he feels, but ultimately, he chooses to take the easiest way out rather than owning up to what he's done, even after Akuma-kun helps him with at least one of his past mistakes. Parents, these episodes suggest, can be selfish, and each selfish parent that Ichiro encounters makes his perceptions of and interactions with his father much more fraught for him – something the series's primary antagonist is eager to exploit in the final stretch.

Because Akuma Kun relies on contemporary, active religions for its mythology, there are some places where viewers could be a bit uncomfortable. The series' roots in the 1960s-70s occasionally show through in some of the demonic character designs (particularly in episode eight), and although dub Ichiro calls Haitian Voudou deity Legba a "loa" rather than a "demon," his usage in the story is still a little awkward, as is his depiction. I like the more Old Testament look of the angel, and the classic Mizuki designs, such as for Gremory and Hyakkume, are fun, as always.

Calling Legba a loa is one of the better aspects of this production, especially since the subtitles persist in writing "Akuma Kun" rather than "Akuma-kun," which is intensely annoying. White subtitles do the final three episodes a disservice, as they can be challenging to read against the backgrounds, but both the English and Japanese casts are excellent. Cristina Vee kills it as Gremory, and I prefer Michael Johnston's delivery as Ichiro over the still-excellent Yūki Kaji. At the same time, Toshio Fukukawa works better as Mephisto(s) than Kyle McCarley's Mephisto III. Still, it primarily comes down to your preferences, and both are solid. The art is also a treat, with backgrounds evoking Mizuki's busy style and looking very lived-in and a little run-down. Female character designs are updated to be cuter, which is always odd, but this looks good. The background music has an anxiety-inducing tone to it, which, well, made me anxious, but it works very well. Also fun are several name drops of "Mizuki," both as a character and as the name of a convenience store.

While I'm not entirely sold on the ending (unless we get a second season), Akuma Kun is a good viewing experience. It's dark and unsettling, but it needs to be, and care has been taken with details like Shingo's adult body language despite his appearance and the way Hyakkume and Komorineko are seeded throughout before their actual entry in the finale. There are episodes dealing with suicide, cannibalism, and domestic abuse, but if those aren't dealbreakers, this is worth your time.