Ann's heroine obsession isn't just a cute quirk, it's the entire point, and the show trusts you to find her cringe enthusiasm contagious instead of embarrassing. The first two episodes feel like watching someone's genuine garage band demo, which is exactly why Misaki's realization that this actually works hits so hard. You're watching a group form not because they're destined or talented, but because one town needs saving and four girls decide their homemade superhero show is the solution.
Ann has a secret passion: she collects videos of regional superhero performances, those campy local productions that promote small towns and their tourist attractions across Japan. When classmate Mikan recruits her to stage a private heroine show for her little sister, Ann can barely contain her excitement. The two start rehearsing in earnest, perfecting their acts and building elaborate costumes. That's when student council president Misaki stumbles upon them mid-practice. She sees something the girls haven't considered yet: a professional local superhero show could be exactly what their struggling town needs to stay afloat financially. With mounting debt threatening to close everything down, Misaki proposes they form an actual performance group and put on a full-scale show. What follows is pure charm and chaos. The girls scramble to recruit more members, scrape together props and costumes, and transform their town into a stage. They're amateurs with big dreams, balancing school life with mounting performance pressure. It's a love letter to small-town spirit and the genuine joy of putting on a show, even when everything feels impossible.