In a world full of predictable police dramas, Ouroboros quietly stands apart. It’s not flashy, but it has a heartbeat—driven by the raw, complicated bond between Ryuzaki Ikuo (Ikuta Toma), the quiet, almost gentle policeman hiding a simmering obsession for justice, and Danno Tatsuya (Oguri Shun), the magnetic gang leader whose charm masks a calculating mind. Their friendship feels lived-in, fragile, and uncomfortably real—a loyalty forged in pain that is as beautiful as it is destructive.
The series can be slow, even meandering, but those pauses let the small moments—glances, silences, small betrayals—land with weight. Its moody visuals and understated music perfectly echo the tension and melancholy that define the story. The ending is stark and inevitable, refusing easy comfort, but it feels earned, painfully so.
Ouroboros isn’t perfect. It falters in pacing and occasionally leans on clichés. Yet in its best moments, it captures something rare: friendship as destiny, loyalty as both gift and curse. 7.5/10—a flawed, yet deeply memorable drama.
The series can be slow, even meandering, but those pauses let the small moments—glances, silences, small betrayals—land with weight. Its moody visuals and understated music perfectly echo the tension and melancholy that define the story. The ending is stark and inevitable, refusing easy comfort, but it feels earned, painfully so.
Ouroboros isn’t perfect. It falters in pacing and occasionally leans on clichés. Yet in its best moments, it captures something rare: friendship as destiny, loyalty as both gift and curse. 7.5/10—a flawed, yet deeply memorable drama.
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