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I Think I Love This Little (Little) Life: Why Hakumei and Mikochi is an Underrated Cozy, Slice-of-Life Anime
🕑 Added 2025-11-18 00:16:51 +0000 UTCAuthor: Meaghan Steeves
Editor: Masha Zhdanova
As anime series go, it’s hard to come up with another one as snuggly as 2018’s Hakumei and Mikochi. Based on the manga by Takuto Kashiki, the show has only twelve episodes, based on the first six volumes. Design-wise the series is stunning to look at, from the warm interiors to the bustling markets of their nearby city, Makinata, to the wide mountain vistas surrounding them, with a beautiful accompanying soundtrack.
The series’ subtitle is “Tiny Little Life in the Woods,” and the premise is exactly that: two tiny women besties, named Hakumei and Mikochi, living in the base of a tree among anthropomorphic insects and animals, as well as other very small people. (We’re talking slice-up-a-blueberry-like-it-was-a-cantaloupe kind of tiny.) But their size is anything but a barrier—they have adventures ranging from a breath-catching ride on a giant bird to a night train ride to a particular fishing spot, to the mundane persistence of trying to fix a stubbornly stuck coffee grinder. But what can be easily missed beneath the surface of a comforting, atmospheric show is the undercurrent of strong, independent women themes running through the titular characters and their storylines.
Hakumei and Mikochi’s world is a cottagecore, low-tech haven, where the biggest hints of modernism are the appearances of an early train and camera. The setting is definitely historical and given the aforementioned tech, is likely to be in the late 1800s—though the exact time period is undetermined. What’s so refreshing is how their society is progressive in many ways. Where one would expect misogyny and frequent resistance to their lifestyle on the part of the male characters, of whom there are plenty, they instead rely on and sincerely appreciate each woman’s unique expertise. In this anime, the purist value of “historical accuracy” is overridden by the importance of portraying its main characters as living in a utopia of equality, where encouragement and mutual respect is the norm.
Hakumei moved to Makinata a couple of years before the start of the story. Briefly unhoused, she fell in with a trading/private police caravan before finding her home with Mikochi. Hakumei is, at the risk of labeling her, a badass who delivers major non-binary energy. In one vignette, she visits Jada, an eccentric beautician who works out of an ostrich egg. She asks Jada to cut her hair short; Jada obliges, and the look on Hakumei’s face plainly shows she’s in love with how “boyish” and cute it is—as well as practical. As she puts it, her hair “gets in the way when it gets long.”
Hakumei’s a repairwoman by trade, working in carpentry and (again, the badassery) as a knife sharpener for restaurants. With modern eyes, the amount of labour-related skills she has in her toolbox is astounding, and she’s an artisan of lost arts. She can fix windmills, chisel apart great boulders, and make bamboo bathtubs, and she fears nothing (except for deep water, as she can’t swim). She’s also extremely good-natured, and doesn’t always recognize when she’s being given the brush off. But her friendliness can melt even the most standoffish of characters, like Iwashidani (a weasel), her brusque carpentry colleague.
There is one humorous situation in which misogynistic assumptions peek through. When Hakumei attempts to join the Borestone Guild, she’s initially dismissed by the guild’s president, Narai, and she begs to be allowed to sharpen the tools of the workers, which he permits. It’s implied, but never said out loud, that she cannot join the guild because she’s a woman. But later, when she innovatively devises a scheme to break apart a huge rock that threatens to destroy a wall, Narai welcomes her aboard. While telling her she needs a work coat made he says, “You have a wife too, don’t you? Mikochi, was it?” After a beat Hakumei replies “…I’m a woman, you know.” Though Narai made a blunder, Hakumei more than proves that her gender doesn’t really matter, as she can get the job done well.
Mikochi, in contrast to Hakumei, has been living in Makinata for some time, and is as close to a domestic goddess as you can get, the twist being that she’s anything but traditional. She, like Hakumei, is unmarried and childfree, and makes her living selling homemade wares, from preserves to tea to cookies and even soap. During one awkward occasion, Makinata’s esteemed songstress, Konju, comes to visit Mikochi, and gifts her with refreshments Mikochi herself had made and sold to the store Konju bought them from. But Mikochi, neither rude nor an arrogant showoff, stays humble all the way.
Moreover, Mikochi is heralded as the community authority on all things food and flavors. At least half of the series, it seems, revolves around food. On one trip, the ladies casually scale mountains to collect fresh basil and proceed to talk about what Mikochi will use them for, like bread and pasta. She can pick out whether something’s too spicy, too heavy, or if an ingredient is missing, from Jada’s limoncello to a special mint julep that brings peace to Makinata’s lawless Honey House neighborhood. This gift also leads to some comical encounters, with market vendors from every direction pleading for Mikochi’s wisdom and guidance on how to improve a dish or drink as she and Hakumei shop.
As strong as her passion and talent for food is, however, Mikochi is also a wizard of a seamstress, is candidly obsessed with “the sweet smell of fresh woven fabric,” and with beautiful clothes in general. During one visit to a secondhand shop she comes upon a cache of elaborate designer clothes. Without hesitating, she hunts down and buys the whole lot, having recognized their value and rarity. On another occasion, she is utterly devastated when she and Hakumei are in a hurry and can’t stop to visit a fabric stand.
Food and fashion are the biggest parts of Mikochi, and they are how she expresses her creativity. That she and Hakumei are not strictly in one zone of interest each shows how multi-faceted they are; neither one fits neatly into a tidy, traditional box, and together, they’re quite the harmonious duo. Though they are their own little unit, Hakumei and Mikochi have a seemingly endless circle of friends in the community, many of whom are women as strong and independent as they are.
Several characters assume Hakumei and Mikochi are together, and as the viewer you can’t help but think, “Okay, it’s not just me.” It’s unclear if they’re refusing to confront their feelings or playing ignorant to the inquiring minds around them. Maybe they’re simply aromantic or asexual people who love each other and live together as platonic roommates. They respect each other’s need for space, and their concern is not exactly “tough love” but not tender and nurturing either. It’s somewhere in between.
If you did want to imagine they’re privately a couple, however, you could easily do so. While Mikochi has the “housewife” role down with her cooking and sewing, and Hakumei’s a trade worker, they share equal parts of any physical labor. They admire each other’s talents and each brags about the other to anyone who’ll listen. They’re both completely self-reliant, but also gamely show interest in one another’s hobbies, curious to learn something new. Ultimately their relationship is something indefinable—they’re clearly best friends but not quite like sisters, either.
Makinata is home to countless creatures from insects to badgers, accommodating a pretty diverse population. But our illusions of Makinata are shaken somewhat by the revelation in the final episode that it’s not open to everyone. Emerald Tail, a wolf and friend of Hakumei’s, is not permitted to enter the town, presumably for safety reasons, because she’s beyond the size limit. Hakumei’s heartbreak and rage is comparable to any injustice where discrimination plays a factor in barring someone from inclusivity in a space. While Makinata’s a paradise to many, it’s not a paradise to all, and it’s a valuable reminder that nothing, as good as it is, is rarely ever perfect.
Overall, there’s plenty to admire about Hakumei and Mikochi and evidence to support the notion they’re ecofeminists. They live a pretty low-waste life, preferring to repair items or build things themselves instead of replacing or buying them new. They play as hard as they work. They achieve the true work-life balance that most folks aspire to. Most importantly, they’re free—completely free, living in a misogyny-light society, with no obligations to children, spouses, or anyone, except maybe each other. In short, they are goals.
