REVIEW: ‘The Ramparts Of Ice’ Is Off To A Slow But Promising Start

There was one singular reason to be excited for the Netflix anime adaptation of The Ramparts of Ice (Kōri no Jōheki). Okay, there are two. But the most immediate was that it’s based on a web manga series written and illustrated by Kōcha Agasawa, the mangaka behind the exuberant and wildly infectious You And I Are Polar Opposites, one of the best romance and slice-of-life anime in ages. And Agasawa’s influence is evident in the characters’ personalities and the most basic elements of the designs. But don’t expect a carbon copy. 

The second most enticing element of the series was the continued renaissance of shojo and josei adaptations. And, like the first drawing point, it’s best not to expect a series that easily fits the expected mold because Agasawa’s work here is much more muted, more reflective.

While You and I Are Polar Opposites exuded youthful vibrancy, The Ramparts of Ice takes a more subdued approach to adolescence. The effect is both interesting and, even if it’s taking more time to settle into what the story is trying to do. 

You and I Are Polar Opposites drew attention from the moment the OP started, and our wonderfully vivacious character hollered her first line of dialogue. The Ramparts of Ice, evoking its namesake, has to thaw a little to let in the warmth, even with a really strong narrative at its center. It’s just taking a moment to solidify (which works against the thawing metaphor, I know.) 

Koyuki Hikawa is selective about her friends, and we understand why.

Somewhat reminiscent of 2025’s Honey Lemon Soda (though infinitely more tolerable from the jump), The Ramparts of Ice tackles a pervasive style of bullying that leaves emotional scars rather than obvious wounds. The series follows high school student Koyuki Hikawa (Anna Nagase), who, due to her middle school experience with gossip and off-the-cuff, yet no less invasive, remarks about her appearance, has built a wall between herself and her classmates. She’s dubbed an Ice Queen, someone who no one can get close to, no matter their efforts. 

And that’s how Koyuki likes it. She prefers her self-made solitude and the solace it offers. And who can blame her, considering the non-stop remarks she bore, as boys teased her for her diminutive size, remarks that are easy to brush off by those who don’t have to deal with the ramifications of them. She’s either not taken seriously, facing unwanted comments on her appearance, or being called standoffish. As is the universal case, there’s often no winning for teenage girls. 

Beyond her close friend, Miki Azumi (Fuka Izumi), whom she’s known since childhood, Koyuki keeps to herself, happily introverted. She isn’t dissimilar to Tani of Polar Opposites in that case, which should make the arrival of Minato Amamiya (Shōya Chiba) the obvious Suzuki in this parallel story of unlikely relationships and friends. Opposites attract romance. And yet The Ramparts of Ice does something much more clever with its introduction. The characters – Miki and Koyuki – and the narrative condemn him. 

The “nice guy” gets called out in The Ramparts of Ice. 

Because Minato is introduced as a “fix-it” type, loud and forward, if he sees someone who’s alone or seemingly in need of company, he pokes his head in and inserts himself, but, as Miki points out, that’s simply pity. And no one wants to be on the other side of that, a friendship born from some misplaced sense of obligation.

With only four episodes under its belt, The Ramparts of Ice hasn’t had enough time to fully explore the ramifications of this type of behavior from him. Still, it sets out a fantastic distinction from other stories of this ilk. Stories where one character’s outgoing enthusiasm is enough to help the shy, introverted character. 

Minato never asks Koyuki if she wants to be friends. He forces himself into her space and her friend group, believing he’s doing something good because he buys into the social perception that she’s lonely. Being a teenage boy, he doesn’t yet understand the complexities of meeting someone halfway. 

It’s what makes Koyuki’s friendship with Miki so telling. Because both can be themselves around one another. Miki, too, suffers from the weight of public perception, the school having dubbed her its idol for her looks and how she presents herself. However, at home and with her friends, she’s much more brash and “unladylike.”

She’s loud and struggles with being studious. She and Koyuki share a deep understanding and bond, making the former’s defense of her friend all the more potent. Because while Koyuki worries she’s somehow getting in the way of Miki and Minato, Miki is simply on the righteous defense of her friend. 

The Ramparts of Ice establishes a strong core group of characters. 

The fourth main character, Yota Hino (Satoshi Inomata), is another endearing addition to the story due to how Koyuki responds to him. He helps her out of an uncomfortable situation in Episode 1, and, between that and his exceptional height and poor eyesight that remind her of a giraffe leaning down to see better, his character is relentlessly charming.

The ease with which he and Koyuki develop a friendship once again speaks to the truth of who Koyuki is. It’s not so much that she doesn’t want friends. She struggles to parse intent and is selective about who she allows into her well-warded inner circle. 

Minato will surely get more depth as The Ramparts of Ice progresses. Better still would be if he truly learns from his well-intentioned yet poorly executed misstep because this is such a fascinating dynamic to set up. And the four characters already possess personalities that work on their own and especially together as they banter and experience the day-to-day highs and lows of high school life. 

Koyuki clearly also has more going on, as we slowly learn more about a boy from her middle school who left a mark, Tsubasa Igarashi (Chiaki Kobayashi). And it’s that acquaintance that delivers the peak of tension in the first four episodes, as the fourth closes with Koyuki, with open anger, telling Minato that he disgusts her, believing he is probing into her past by speaking with Tsubasa. 

Kōcha Agasawa’s work plays against assumed archetypes. 

The Ramparts of Ice has many interesting ideas and clever twists on well-worn archetypes. Yet it lacks that immediate charm factor. It’s worth sticking with, especially as threads continue to unravel. And the characters are distinctive, and there’s genuine intrigue in just how they’ll all come together and how or when Minato will prove himself.

But the story plods along with a shocking amount of patience. And while certain slice-of-life anime thrive with the same level of understated pacing that allows the characters room to grow, the writing here doesn’t possess that same enriching nuance despite what’s promised. 

Produced by Studio Kai, the animation itself is solid, even if it often defaults to chibi-style art to demonstrate particular reactions. This is, in part, fitting for its Webtoon origins, rendered with stark colors and thick linework. There’s an over-simplification to the character designs that works for the moments when the main four are in the same frame, their features expressing their differing personalities through widened eyes or sharp expressions. 

While imperfect, there’s a lot of promise in the first four episodes of The Ramparts of Ice. 

But because the plot is so inert, the animation doesn’t have time to flourish. It works for what it is, but because it relies on chibi frames, it sometimes puts greater umbrage on the pacing, visuals, and narrative, both of which hit a pause.

Despite this, it still finds sparks of detail in the world they inhabit, from the lighting of vending machines and its artificial glow, to the array of colorful pens and pencil bags that adorn their desks. It’s thoughtfully rendered despite the lack of urgency. 

The voice work is solid across the board, and Koyuki really is a wonderful protagonist. There’s something especially charming to see how she’s carved out pockets of comfort for herself in a world that seems so overbearing at times.

Her seeking refuge in the teachers’ lounge gives her greater depth, a silly little gag that allows her to be more than the self-serious Ice Queen the student body sees her as. And while the series has clearly taken some liberties with the story’s arrangement, it’s working towards an obvious point and a confrontation. 

The Ramparts of Ice might not contain the same vibrancy as its mangaka’s other work, but it doesn’t need to. The story is engaging and genuinely fresh. It just needs to hit the gas a bit, well beyond the getting-to-know-you portion of the introduction. Observational and refreshingly critical of gendered dynamics that deem certain personalities, times, and situations pitiable, the series has plenty of potential. The series needs to embrace it with more vigor. 

The Ramparts of Ice is now airing on Netflix, with new episodes on Thursdays.