One’s assessment of Kowloon Generic Romance may come down to how you define “success” (pun intended). I find the glass to be well over half-full, but it seems a lot of manga readers strongly disagree. I get that – I’ve been there. Adapting an 11 volume (and counting – it’s still ongoing) manga into 13 anime episodes is an enterprise fraught with peril. In truth, nothing the anime did was ever going to satisfy most fans of the original. But what was the alternative, realistically? No anime at all. It’s a tradeoff I’m more than happy to take, myself.

For a series that was essentially a mystery (despite sci-fi and romance themes being dominant), one has to address the ending head-on. That’s difficult in the sense that not only have I not read the manga but as of yet no one knows how this ending will materially differ from Mayuzuki Jun’s. The tone struck me as just right – bittersweet would be the right descriptor. There was a strong sense of what was being lost, which was something close to the hearts of a great many people. This series is as much a love story about a place as about two people.

What was missing was any concrete explanation for how all this happened in the first place. To be frank that was kind of what I expected – the mechanics of it were never really the point. Not everyone will happily embrace that, to be sure. That this was all a product of Hajime’s memories – and regret – was never really in doubt and hasn’t been for a long time. But how did it actually happen? Beats me. And him, too – Kudou-san has no idea in the end. He walked in on Kujirai-B, dead on her balcony, the day after he proposed to her. And somehow, the depth of his guilt over that caused this entire city and everyone in it to reappear.

Another thing we don’t know is why Reiko – spoiler – is able to leave it behind in the end. The explanations we do get are more poetic than practical, which is exactly what I would expect from Mayuzuki. Reiko is okay with whatever happens because she’s making this choice herself, not having it made for her. That, for her, confirms her identity as a person, an individual. Not a fragment of someone’s memories or a computer program, but a person. In point of fact things look very grim for Reiko as Hajime’s existential breakdown causes Kowloon to come apart at the seams. But Success the goldfish (voiced by Yoshioka Rio, who plays Reiko in the live-action film – the irony is strong on both sides of the fourth wall there) leads her to Hajime.

From what we learn of Kujirai-B, I can only conclude in the end that she was a very messed-up person. She loved summer – it was her ideal. Kudou’s proposal was a kind of a karmic shock to her, it seems. And apparently she bet her life on the results of taking Hebinuma’s hallucinogenic cold medicine – if she lives, she marries him. That’s a very odd thing to do, for starters. And indescribably cruel to Hajime, who was obviously scarred deeply by it. As to why Reiko is so different again, the explanation comes down to the poetical – Kudou realized that in the end he didn’t really know Kujirai-B at all.

And then, Hajime himself. The reason we’re all here. He must face himself, appropriately. In the final analysis the lesson for him is the same as for the others – confront your past, accept your flaws, and move on. That it means the end of this Kowloon isn’t strictly relevant – he has no other way forward. That means letting himself off the hook for what happened to Kujirai-B. It also means letting Reiko walk away as her own person, someone who doesn’t belong to him. Not forever, but for now. Neither of them has any idea if she’ll even exist, never mind if they’ll see each other again. But it’s the only option he has.

Again, I have no more idea why Reiko was able to leave this Kowloon than why it existed in the first place. But two years down the line, Hajime finds her – just how long he’s been looking, who knows. Their ending as a couple is open-ended, no question. But the grounding exists now for them to give it a go, where it didn’t before. He’s let himself off the hook, she’s embraced her right to exist for her own sake. Everyone else’s arc was or less concluded last week, clearing the way for this turn of events.

As for Kowloon, it’s certainly a character in its own right. It’s a unique chapter in human history, a place unlike any other that’s ever existed. It’s been firing the imaginations of writers almost since it came into existence, not least manga and anime creators. That Mayuzuki-sensei gave us a romanticizes portrayal of it is undeniable. The real Kowloon was a dirty, dangerous hotbed of abysmal sanitation and organized crime. But it was also a place many residents, it seemed, truly loved – with its own culture and fierce sense of pride. I would ague that a romanticized Kowloon is totally appropriate, given the nature of its existence in the story.It’s gone forever now, apart from fading memories existing only in the imaginations of people like Maayuzuki and the mind’s eye of those of us who consume their work.

I guess what one takes away from Kowloon Generic Romance boils down to what they bring to it, much like the Kowloon it depicts. Anime is an imperfect medium to say the least, and Mayuzuki Jun has received two imperfect (and incomplete) adaptations of her series. But both are also wonderful pieces of work that do an admirable job of capturing her unique vision and aesthetic. I think far more is gained from their existence than is lost, and one can muse on what could have been while still wholeheartedly appreciating what is.