A Film Directed by Kenji Iwaisawa (a.k.a. Hyakuemu)

Most long-form sports anime center on familiar but powerful tropes that highlight perseverance, rivalry, and perhaps most importantly, teamwork. They often feature an underdog protagonist, who starts weak but grows through determination, often spurred by a genius rival whose natural talent challenges them to improve. The storyline progresses through training arcs, emotional flashbacks, and wise mentor figures that help drive their progress toward the inevitable big tournament, where victory is as much about self-discovery as winning. Boiling all of that down into a brisk ninety minute feature film would be nigh impossible, so the topic of today’s review, 100 Meters (or Hyakuemu), breaks all of that often cliched plot progression and reconceptualizes what a sports anime can be in the modern era, pushing aside Shonen manga sensibilities for something far more mature.

“Togashi is born to run. As a kid, he is naturally gifted and wins every 100-meter race without effort. But in sixth grade, he meets Komiya, a transfer student who is full of determination but lacks technique. In teaching him, Togashi gives Komiya a new purpose: to win no matter what. Years pass by, Togashi and Komiya meet again as rivals on the track and reveal their true selves.”

100 Meters is a 2025 anime film directed by Kenji Iwaisawa, adapted from Uoto’s 2018–2019 manga of the same name and produced by Iwaisawa’s new studio, Rock and Roll Mountain. The film follows the intertwined lives of two runners, Togashi and Komiya, whose rivalry begins in childhood and continues into adulthood. Togashi is a natural sprinter who seems born to win, while Komiya, a transfer student, compensates for his lack of raw talent through determination and relentless practice. Their relationship forms the emotional and philosophical core of the story, exploring how competition shapes identity and how the pursuit of speed can define or destroy one’s sense of self. 100 Meters is not so much about anyone’s story of winning “the big one”, it’s about coming to terms with loss and moving on from track and field.

In many ways, 100 Meters flips the standard sports anime archetypes. Togashi and Komiya each embody elements of the traditional rival and underdog but in unexpected ways. The film skips forward through their lives, first by about five years, then another decade, showing how time transforms both men. Togashi initially fits the mold of a future sports anime antagonist: he’s gifted, confident, and expects to win. Yet as he climbs the national rankings, the weight of expectation begins to erode his confidence. When he reappears later, he’s faked an injury to avoid competition, hiding from the possibility of failure. His encounter with a rag-tag athletic club at his high school and an older runner (he he previously idolized) who suffered a near career-ending back injury becomes a turning point, leading them to compete together in a mixed relay that rekindles Togashi’s love of running and brings him face to face once more with Komiya, now a very different man.

Komiya, unlike Togashi, has never been handed anything in life. The film hints at personal struggles that force him to move frequently, and he admits to Togashi that he doesn’t even like running, but “it’s all I have,” he says. For him, running is less a passion than a temporary escape from reality. While Togashi tried to run away from the sport, Komiya ran toward it, pouring every part of himself into the pursuit. He transfers to a competitive school he bikes two hours to reach each day and slowly climbs to the top, eventually becoming one of Japan’s fastest runners for his age group and breaking local records.

His obsession with running consumes him, and his unconventional form puts his body at risk. He’s warned by the club’s team captain to stop, because he could see what running was going to do to him, but Komiya refused. It truly was all he had, and after a chance encounter with the National champion, a young man that did a Q&A session at his school, Komiya sinks even deeper. Komiya embodies aspects of the classic underdog archetype, yet his brooding nature and clear mental health struggles make him a deeply complex figure – a haunting mirror to Togashi’s once carefree optimism. There is no real villain here, just the nature of running itself, something that Togashi says “can fix everything”, but others treat almost as a monster waiting for a chance to hurt somebody.

We meet Komiya and Togashi one final time in their late twenties, as the film shifts its focus to a number of runners preparing for the National Championships. Komiya is now the second-ranked runner in Japan, trailing only behind Saizu – the same athlete who once visited his high school and inspired his dream of breaking his own national records. Togashi, on the other hand, finds himself nearing the end of his career. His speed has faded, injuries are piling up, and the looming loss of his sponsorship leaves him facing the prospect of becoming a coach. This reality sends him into a downward spiral, leading to one of the film’s most emotional and beautifully rendered sequences.

Saizu, who could easily have been portrayed as the film’s antagonist, turns out to be anything but. Despite holding the top ranking and multiple records, he’s grown disillusioned with the sport and tired of being defined solely by his accomplishments. His apathy contrasts sharply with the obsessive drive of his rivals. Among them is Kaido, an older runner who has never managed to surpass Saizu but continues to compete in hopes of doing so before retirement. Seeing that he’s at least a decade older than the others, it’s clear this will likely be his last race.

Each of these men faces the same existential question – what comes after running? The film builds toward the qualifiers and the climactic final race, which it reminds us lasts “just nine seconds,” yet will determine the direction of all their lives. In the end, 100 Meters refuses to show us the outcome. Instead, it closes with a quiet, reflective moment between Komiya and Togashi as they finally understand what it truly means to run, and what it means to let go. The abrupt ending feels poignant and purposeful, capturing the fleeting nature of competition, ambition, and time itself.

As a sports drama, 100 Meters succeeds because it understands that speed isn’t just physical, it’s psychological. The film asks what it means to measure one’s worth by performance, what happens when natural talent meets unyielding effort, and whether victory truly defines a person. While some secondary storylines briefly divert from the central rivalry, the core narrative remains compelling and emotionally resonant. Iwaisawa’s ability to turn something as brief as a sprint into an epic of self-discovery is what makes 100 Meters not only one of the standout anime films of 2025 but also one of the most thoughtful portrayals of competition and identity in recent animation.

Kenji Iwaisawa, best known for his 2019 cult hit On-Gaku: Our Sound, brings a similar handmade aesthetic and focus on character psychology to 100 Meters. His earlier film captured the awkward energy of amateur musicians; here, he applies that same sensitivity to the world of sprinting. Visually, the film stands out for its kinetic animation, rotoscoping techniques, and bold use of silence during key moments, which heightens tension and captures the fleeting beauty of motion.

They really play around with animation styles in the races, and a few are breathtaking. There is one in particular, which happens during a torrential downpour, that is both visually striking and chaotic. Composer Hiroaki Tsutsumi’s score adds to the film’s intensity, making every race feel intimate and monumental at once.

Overall, 100 Meters isn’t destined to be a major blockbuster on the level of Demon Slayer: Infinity Castle, but it deserves recognition as one of the best Japanese animated films of the year. Its power lies not in spectacle, but in sincerity and craftsmanship. It reminded me of 2023’s Blue Giant and last year’s Look Back, two emotionally charged films that blended artistry and introspection with exceptional storytelling. Like those, 100 Meters balances beauty and melancholy, focusing on personal growth rather than grand-scale action. I have no doubt it will be overlooked by mainstream audiences, but I’m genuinely grateful that GKIDS chose to bring it to the United States. From this point forward, I plan to follow Rock and Roll Mountain closely and support whatever projects they produce, because the anime industry needs more films like this – ones that take risks, defy cliché, and speak honestly about human experience. With its stunning animation, heartfelt message, and emotional depth, 100 Meters is a quiet masterpiece that lingers long after the credits roll.