When the Visuals Soar, but the Sound Stumbles
For the past few years, One Piece has entered what many call its “animation renaissance.” The action sequences have become breathtaking, with fluid motion, cinematic angles, and lighting that rivals modern films. Episodes like Luffy’s Gear 5 debut were so visually striking that even long-time skeptics admitted the show had never looked better.
So when one of the series’ top animators, Vincent Chansard, publicly criticized Toei Animation’s sound design, the fandom collectively stopped scrolling.
Chansard said plainly what many had quietly suspected: that while the animation has evolved, the sound has not. He described the audio as “a mismatch for the level this series deserves.” His comment quickly rippled across anime circles, igniting debates not only about Toei’s priorities but about how One Piece balances style and substance.
The Sound of a Sword That Doesn’t Change
Chansard’s frustration centered on repetition and imbalance. Fans noticed it too. In some recent episodes, especially big fights like Luffy versus Kizaru, the sound effects felt recycled, almost mechanical. The clang of swords, the thud of impact, even the whoosh of air often played identically across different scenes.
That might sound like a minor gripe. But in animation, sound is half the experience. Imagine the thunder of a punch that never changes pitch. It stops feeling powerful; it becomes a background hum.
The irony is that Toei Animation’s visuals have never been more dynamic. The contrast between eye and ear has become glaring. What should be a synchronized symphony of motion instead feels like a rock concert with a broken speaker.
Fans Divided Between Nostalgia and Frustration
Here’s where things get interesting: not everyone agrees.
Some fans argue that the familiar sound design is part of One Piece’s identity, that the iconic sword swish or cannon blast is nostalgia. To change it would be to erase the soul of the series.
Others counter that nostalgia shouldn’t be a shield for mediocrity. If you can revolutionize the visuals, why not the sound? Why not bring in a modern sound team, re-record foley, and create deeper resonance for the show’s emotional beats?
The argument isn’t about nitpicking. It’s about evolution. For a series approaching its finale—a 25-year odyssey—fans want everything to rise to the occasion. The audio should shake bones, not just fill space.
A Question of Priorities
Toei’s challenge is structural. One Piece is a weekly production with relentless deadlines. Every episode is a juggling act between animators, editors, musicians, and budget constraints. Sound often lands last in line, the quiet sibling of the visual spectacle.
But that logic doesn’t hold when you’re producing one of the most-watched anime in the world. The finale isn’t just another arc; it’s the culmination of a cultural phenomenon.
If One Piece is going to end like the legend it deserves to be, it needs sound that roars with the same ambition as its story.
Why It Matters More Than You Think
When you strip away the flash, sound is storytelling. It gives texture to emotion, the tremor in the air before a punch, the silence before a scream, the crack of thunder after victory. If that doesn’t land, the moment collapses.
So when Chansard says the sound “doesn’t match the level this series deserves,” he’s not just criticizing technicalities. He’s calling out a lack of artistic respect.
And he’s right. Because you can’t make a world sound small when the story has grown this vast.
The Missing Storm of the Amazon Lily Seas
While One Piece wrestles with its production demons, a different kind of silence echoes in the story itself, one that fans have been lamenting for years.
The Kuja Pirates.
When they first appeared, led by the formidable Boa Hancock, they shattered expectations. A crew of warrior women from a hidden island, fierce and untamed, unbound by the usual tropes of femininity in shōnen manga. Their introduction felt like a manifesto: strength can wear lipstick.
But somewhere between Marineford and the Final Saga, that roar softened to a whisper.
From Revolution to Regression
The Kuja were a revelation. They weren’t just powerful fighters; they were a symbol. An all-female crew that ruled their own island, defied the World Government, and carved independence in a world dominated by male warlords and emperors.
Hancock herself was layered: a survivor of slavery, a ruler of warriors, and a woman whose arrogance masked deep scars. Her relationship with Luffy offered a rare kind of tenderness in a series obsessed with battles and ambition.
And yet… in the last several arcs, the Kuja have mostly vanished. Their cameos feel like footnotes. Their influence, once central to the balance of power, now barely registers.
Why Fans Are Frustrated
The disappointment isn’t just about missing screen time. It’s about wasted potential.
The Kuja Pirates were one of Eiichiro Oda’s few opportunities to explore gender, leadership, and freedom from a non-male perspective. The idea of Amazon Lily, an isolated, self-sufficient nation of women, could have become a lens for examining the world’s social hierarchies.
Instead, they’ve become background figures. Once icons of autonomy, now reminders of narrative neglect.
It’s especially jarring because One Piece is otherwise so good at revisiting its themes—legacy, oppression, rebellion. The Kuja fit perfectly within those ideas. Their silence now feels like a missed conversation.
Crowded Seas and Shrinking Space
Why did it happen? Probably because One Piece got too big.
As the story steered toward its final saga, Oda’s canvas exploded: ancient weapons, the Void Century, Elbaph, the Final War, Blackbeard, the Revolutionary Army, and more. Somewhere in that cosmic shuffle, the Kuja slipped between the cracks.
It’s an understandable casualty, but a costly one. Because when the world gets bigger, the small corners of humanity are what keep it grounded.
What the Kuja Represented
Hancock and her crew weren’t just fighters. They embodied the freedom the Straw Hats fight for, but from a different angle. They were already free. They lived by their own laws, worshipped their own empress, and protected their independence fiercely.
Their disappearance isn’t just a storytelling gap; it’s a thematic one. One Piece has always been about liberation. To let the Kuja fade quietly undermines the very idea the series is built on.
The Feminine Power the Story Forgot
There’s also an uncomfortable truth beneath the fan criticism: One Piece has a long history of sidelining its women. Characters like Nami and Robin are beloved, but even they often get pushed aside for male-centric fights. Hancock was a chance to break that pattern, a woman who could stand toe-to-toe with admirals and emperors.
Yet in recent years, her role has boiled down to cameos and callbacks. Her complexity has been reduced to “Luffy’s admirer” rather than the empress of Amazon Lily.
Fans have a right to feel robbed.
Hope Isn’t Dead Yet
Still, there’s optimism. Oda has a pattern of bringing old characters back into play just when they seem forgotten. The Kuja could return in the final war, their island caught in the crossfire of the collapsing world order.
Imagine Amazon Lily becoming a battlefield. Imagine Hancock confronting the World Government again, this time not as a former Warlord but as a leader of a free people.
If that happens, it wouldn’t just be a fan-service cameo. It would be poetic closure, a rebellion completing its circle.
Two Criticisms, One Theme
So what does sound design have to do with a forgotten pirate crew?
Everything.
Both stories, the technical complaint and the narrative absence, are about the same thing: unmet potential.
Chansard’s critique exposes a production that polished one surface while neglecting another. The Kuja Pirates’ fading arc exposes a story that elevated one theme (heroic men) while neglecting another (powerful women).
In both cases, One Piece shines in one direction and goes dim in another.
Excellence Isn’t Partial
True greatness requires harmony. You can’t have world-class animation and mediocre sound; you can’t have deep world-building and shallow representation.
The brilliance of One Piece has always been its balance, between comedy and tragedy, fantasy and politics, pirates and kings. To lose that balance now, in the final stretch, would be more tragic than any character death.
The Sound of a World Worth Hearing
As fans debate Chansard’s comments and speculate about the Kuja’s return, one truth stands out: details matter. The clang of a sword, the echo of a theme, the silence after a missed opportunity—they all build the world we love.
If Toei tightens its soundscape and Oda revives his forgotten warriors, One Piece can end as it began, not just a story of pirates but a story of people who fight to be heard.
Final Thought
One Piece is in its twilight. Every decision now contributes to its legacy. The visuals already dazzle. The writing still sparks wonder. But without sound that sings and stories that include every voice, the finale risks echoing hollow.
The series taught us that freedom is not just the absence of chains; it’s the presence of harmony.
And harmony demands that every sound, every character, every dream, be given its place in the symphony.
Question to readers:
Do you think Toei will actually improve the sound before the finale?
And will Oda bring the Kuja back into the storm, or let them remain ghosts of a world that once promised equality on the high seas?