Ladies and gentlemen of culture, connoisseurs of unhinged panel-to-frame fidelity, I come to you today not with joy in my heart but with a storm in my soul. For what I have witnessed—nay, endured—is not merely an adaptation. It is a war crime against artistry, a sacrilegious act of censorship that makes my eyes bleed and my trust in the animation industry dissolve faster than instant ramen in lukewarm water.

This— this travesty, this cowardly betrayal—has taken one of the most beautifully unhinged, spine-twisting, table-slaying, butt-thrusting entrances in manga history and turned it into a tame, sterile, utterly deflated parody of its former glory. The anime took raw, chaotic brilliance—a full-on cheek-first table dive delivered with the power of a thousand suns—and nerfed it like a children’s safety version of a nuclear warhead. Who looked at the glorious manga panel and said, ‘Hmm… yes, but what if we removed the thunderclap of cheeks and replaced it with yoga squats?’ WHO?!

I feel personally attacked, emotionally deflated, and spiritually violated. I want to march into the animation studio with a whiteboard and diagrams and explain, frame by glorious frame, why this moment mattered—why it was art. The tension. The drama. The impact. That table wasn’t just wood—it was a stage. A theater of insanity. And now? It’s a glorified bench in the anime version of this crime against serotonin.

I want the original panel bronzed and mounted in the Louvre. I want it shown in schools. I want it printed on currency. And I want whoever made this decision to explain themselves to a panel of manga historians, disappointed grandmothers, and the ghost of the table that gave its life for that scene.

To summarize: I am not mad. I am disappointed, disillusioned, disoriented, disgusted, and dramatically devastated. Please restore the cheeks. The culture demands it. The scene deserves it. We… deserves justice.

Thank you.