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Unlike Mitsuo, Hōzen makes no secret of his feelings, though he lacks the courage to act on them. He blushes, stammers, and performs incredible feats of strength and bravery as Perman just to earn a single word of praise from her. But Sumire, fixated on Perman #1, treats Hōzen with polite indifference at best. The tragedy of Hōzen is that he loves Sumire for the same reasons Mitsuo does—her beauty, her intelligence, her hidden kindness—but he has no alter ego to compete with. He is always just Perman #3, the sidekick, or just Hōzen, the poor country boy. His love is a pure, unrequited flame that never goes out, and his quiet moments of watching Sumire from afar, knowing he can never have her, are some of the most emotionally resonant panels in the manga. The team’s dynamic is rounded out by Perman #2, a baby chimpanzee named Bōbo. Bōbo is, in many ways, the anti-romance. As a chimp, he is outside the human romantic sphere. He has a crush on a female chimp at the zoo and enjoys causing mischief, but he is blissfully unaware of the complex emotional torments of Mitsuo and Hōzen. Bōbo serves as a comedic foil. While the boys are agonizing over Sumire’s affections, Bōbo is using his copy robot to duplicate bananas. He reminds the viewer (and the characters) that at the end of the day, they are still children, and some of their romantic turmoil is absurd. Yet, his occasional moments of intuitive kindness—comforting a crying Mitsuo with a pat on the head—suggest a wisdom beyond his simple nature. The Crushing Weight of the Mask: The "Girlfriend" Episode Perhaps the most devastating exploration of romance in Perman is the often-adapted chapter involving a "girlfriend" for Mitsuo. In several versions, a new girl (sometimes named Kayoko) transfers to the school and takes a genuine liking to the ordinary, non-Perman Mitsuo. She likes him for his clumsiness, his sense of humor, his real self. For the first time, Mitsuo experiences the joy of being loved without the mask. He is overjoyed.

The final panels of the manga are legendary for their melancholy. Mitsuo is left with the full, painful knowledge that the girl he loves did love him back, for just a moment, and that moment is lost forever. The status quo is restored on the surface, but the reader knows the emotional damage is permanent. It is a breathtakingly bleak ending for a children's comedy, arguing that some loves are doomed not by villainy, but by the very systems we create to be heroes. The romantic relationships in Perman are far more than simple childhood crushes. They are a sophisticated meditation on identity, authenticity, and the cost of living a double life. Mitsuo’s love for Sumire is a love for an ideal. Sumire’s love for Perman #1 is a love for a fantasy. Hōzen’s love for Sumire is a love that knows it will never be returned. The series suggests that true, reciprocal love—the love of Mitsuo for Kayoko, or Sumire for the real Mitsuo in that erased moment—is fragile and often sacrificed for greater, more absurd duties.

But the superhero's duty inevitably calls. A crisis requires Perman #1 to appear. To avoid revealing his identity, Mitsuo must make the painful choice to push the new girl away, acting cold and disinterested so she will give up on him. He breaks her heart to save his secret. The girl eventually leaves the series, heartbroken and confused, never knowing why the boy she liked suddenly changed. This arc is a brutal reminder that the Perman identity is not a gift but a prison. It isolates Mitsuo from the possibility of an honest, uncomplicated love. The mask that wins Sumire’s affection prevents him from keeping anyone else’s. The anime adaptations, while charming, often soften or loop the relationships back to a status quo. The manga, however, pushes toward a more definitive and emotionally devastating conclusion. In the final story arcs of the original manga, Sumire’s suspicions crystallize. Through a series of increasingly clever traps and observations, she deduces that Mitsuo Suwa is Perman #1. The confrontation is not triumphant but agonizing. Sumire realizes she has spent years belittling the boy she truly admired, while worshipping a costume. She confesses her love to Mitsuo—not to Perman. Perman Cartoon Sex

More importantly, Sumire is one of the few characters who actively tries to be a better person. She studies hard, she is fiercely loyal to her few friends, and she possesses a hidden courage. When she discovers that her beloved Perman #1 has a secret identity, she doesn't simply accept it; she becomes obsessively determined to uncover it. In one of the series' most famous and touching arcs, she comes perilously close to the truth. Her feelings evolve: she begins to suspect Mitsuo, not with contempt, but with a dawning, reluctant admiration. Her harshness towards him softens into a teasing protectiveness. The tragedy is that even as she grows closer to the real boy, she is still subconsciously looking for the hero. If the Mitsuo-Sumire-Perman triangle is the A-plot, then Hōzen Ōyama’s (Perman #3) love for Sumire is the B-plot, and it is a masterclass in quiet, dignified suffering. Hōzen is the strongest, most physically mature of the Permans, but he is also the most gentle and emotionally vulnerable. A boy from the countryside, he is painfully aware of his lower social status compared to Sumire’s wealth. From the moment he sees her, he is hopelessly smitten.

But the rules of the Perman franchise are absolute. When a hero’s identity is discovered by a civilian, they must either recruit that civilian as a new Perman (which Sumire, for various reasons, cannot be) or face a terrible consequence: the memory wipe. Koparu, the alien mentor, is left with no choice. To protect the cosmic rules, Sumire’s memory of the discovery is erased. She forgets everything. She returns to being the girl who loves Perman #1 and ignores Mitsuo Suwa. Unlike Mitsuo, Hōzen makes no secret of his

This creates a classic Superman/Lois Lane paradox, but with a distinctly Fujio-esque twist of cruelty. Mitsuo lives in constant frustration. As Perman, he receives the adoration and affection he craves from Sumire, who hangs on his every heroic word. But as himself, he is ignored or scolded. He cannot reveal his identity without breaking the superhero’s code (and risking a demotion back to being a normal boy). Therefore, Mitsuo is forced to compete with his own heroic persona for the love of the same girl. He experiences the bizarre jealousy of watching Sumire fawn over him while she dismisses the real boy underneath the helmet. This ironic torture is a recurring source of comedy and genuine pathos. Sumire’s love is conditional and superficial, based on a costume and a reputation, while Mitsuo’s love for her is for her complete, flawed self. Sumire is arguably the most complex character in the series. On the surface, she is the archetypal "rich girl" – proud, condescending, and prone to vanity. She belittles Mitsuo’s grades, mocks his clumsiness, and openly compares him unfavorably to the absent Perman. Many Western viewers might dismiss her as an unlikable snob. However, Fujio carefully layers her character. Her cold exterior is a defense mechanism against a lonely, privileged life. Her parents are often absent, traveling the world. Her pursuit of perfection in academics, tea ceremony, and piano is a cry for control and validation.

At first glance, Perman (also known as Pa-man ) seems like a straightforward, episodic superhero comedy from the legendary Fujiko F. Fujio. The premise is simple: a young, average boy named Mitsuo Suwa is recruited by a talking alien mouse, Koparu, to become a superhero, fighting petty criminals and helping his local community. But beneath the slapstick humor and transformations lies a surprisingly sophisticated and often bittersweet exploration of childhood romance, unrequited love, and the painful gap between fantasy and reality. The relationships in Perman are not mere background gags; they are the emotional engine of the series, driving character development and providing some of the most memorable—and melancholic—moments in Fujio’s oeuvre. The Central Triangle: Mitsuo, Sumire, and Perman The core romantic dynamic revolves around the identity crisis inherent to being a superhero. As the ordinary Mitsuo Suwa, he is a typical, slightly lazy, and unremarkable boy. His heart belongs to the beautiful, intelligent, and wealthy Satomi "Sumire" Hoshino, the class idol. Sumire, however, has little interest in the mundane Mitsuo. She is ambitious, sharp-tongued, and dismissive of him. Her affections lie entirely with the mysterious and dashing hero, Perman #1 (Mitsuo’s alter ego). The tragedy of Hōzen is that he loves

Fujiko F. Fujio, best known for the eternally optimistic Doraemon , shows his darker, more cynical side in Perman . He uses the superhero genre not to celebrate power, but to explore its emotional loneliness. The capes, the copy robots, and the flying capes are fun, but the real heart of Perman beats in the awkward silences, the jealous glances, and the terrible, unspoken knowledge that the person you love will never truly know you. And for a children’s story, that is a remarkably profound and heartbreaking lesson.