Sunny

A beat-up old car sits parked in the yard of a group home called Star Kids. It doesn't run. It'll never run again. But for the kids who live there — foster children dealing with abandonment, loss, and the quiet ache of wondering why their families aren't around — that car is everything. They call it Sunny, and when they sit behind the wheel, they can go anywhere. The story follows a handful of these kids: Haruo, a white-haired troublemaker who hides behind attitude; Sei, the new kid with glasses trying to figure out where he fits; Megumu, who carries the weight of parents she'll never see again. Their lives aren't dramatic in a big, sweeping way — it's the small stuff. Arguments over chores, friendships forming awkwardly, moments alone where the loneliness catches up. Taiyō Matsumoto's distinctive art style gives it all a raw, sketchy beauty that feels more honest than polished. This movie, produced by studio dwarf and based on the seinen manga, lives in that same emotional space as March Comes in Like a Lion or Anohana — stories where the pain is real but so is the warmth. If you liked Barakamon's found-family tenderness but want something that sits heavier in your chest, Sunny is that. It's a quiet film about kids using imagination to survive what reality handed them, and it doesn't need to be loud to stay with you.