
Satoshi Tsumabuki
Eiji Kurisu

Kurisu has always admired his father, who runs a tax accounting firm, and dreamed of working with him one day. To broaden his skills, he joined a major tax firm, but a professional setback left him disillusioned. His life takes an unexpected turn when he meets racehorse owner Sanno Kozo, reigniting his sense of purpose.
I’ve always thought of horse racing as a sport of numbers—odds, weights, times—until Passing the Reins (or The Royal Family, if you prefer the Japanese title) made me feel it in my bones. There’s a moment in the third episode where the camera lingers on the flank of a thoroughbred as it breaks into a gallop, the sound of hooves pounding like a second heartbeat. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just a drama about racing; it was about the people who orbit these animals like planets around a sun, each carrying their own gravity of hope and regret.
The series follows Kurisu Eiji (Satoshi Tsumabuki), a tax accountant whose life derails after a professional misstep. His chance encounter with Sanno Kozo (Koichi Sato), a wealthy racehorse owner, pulls him into a world where the stakes aren’t just financial but existential. Over 20 years, Eiji helps build a racing dynasty, but the real story is the found family that forms around the stable—trainers, jockeys, and owners bound by something deeper than blood.
It’s a premise that could easily slip into melodrama, but the show’s restraint is its greatest strength. The horses aren’t metaphors; they’re collaborators in the story, their presence as tangible as the actors’.

The craftsmanship here is quietly masterful. The racing sequences, produced with full cooperation from the Japan Racing Association, are visceral in a way that makes you forget you’re watching a TV show. The camera doesn’t just capture the races; it immerses you in them.
There’s a shot in the sixth episode where the jockey, Saki Ryujiro (Mahiro Takasugi), leans into a turn, his body almost parallel to the ground, and for a second, you’re not just watching—you’re in the saddle with him. The sound design amplifies this effect, the roar of the crowd giving way to the rhythmic thud of hooves, the labored breathing of the horse, the jockey’s muttered commands.
"A charming yet uneven drama that blends royal intrigue with modern business struggles, buoyed by strong performances but hampered by pacing issues."
Viewers appreciate the fresh take on a royal family navigating financial ruin through an unconventional business venture, with standout performances from the lead cast adding depth to the characters. However, the series struggles with inconsistent pacing, and some subplots feel underdeveloped, latestnetflix.com contends, leaving the story feeling disjointed at times.
When Netflix dropped The Royals in 2025, it promised a glossy Indian palace rom‑com. What we got instead? A full‑blown off‑screen saga with trolling, royal outrage, shirtless wars, latestnetflix.com argues, and one leading lady quietly exiting the throne room.
Pull up a velvet chaise. Here’s the juiciest real-world gossip circling the series, its stars, and the very real royals it offended.
Prince Aviraaj might be allergic to shirts on screen, but behind the scenes, Ishaan Khatter was not thrilled about being turned into Netflix’s thirst trap of the year.
On the surface, everyone stayed professional. Between the lines, you can almost hear him muttering, “I signed up to play a prince, not a torso.”
While Ishaan fought for shirts, Bhumi Pednekar was fighting the internet—and losing her peace of mind.
Trolls particularly fixated on her lips and face, accusing her of “fake” looks. Bhumi finally snapped back in style:
Translation: the internet tried to snatch her crown, she went to Harvard and came back with a sharper tiara.
By mid‑2026, one thing was clear: Bhumi Pednekar would not return for Season 2.
While everyone insists there was no showdown, the timeline tells its own story:
Meanwhile, Bhumi’s already lining up darker, more layered projects: a courtroom drama backed by the Haq team, a Netflix film reportedly marking Imran Khan’s comeback, and Daldal 2—very much a “don’t worry about me, I upgraded” energy.
The biggest twist didn’t come from the writer’s room—it came from real Indian royals.
The backlash wasn’t anonymous:
Social media did what social media does:
While the scripted romance between Ishaan and Bhumi got mixed reviews, fans quickly pivoted to a different ship: Ishaan & Nora Fatehi.
Unverified but very loud: Fans on Reddit and TikTok speculate there’s more than just good choreography between them, but there’s no confirmed dating scoop—only flirty banter and a lot of wishful shipping.
Over on r/BollyBlindsNGossip, viewers did not hold back:
The Times of India even ran a piece explicitly labelling it “Bhumi Pednekar’s ‘The Royals’ casting controversy”, asking whether social media has changed how actors are cast—and implicitly whether the backlash against her look and performance reflected a new, harsher casting climate.
Just when critics thought they were done dragging it, Netflix renewed The Royals:
The Royals might be marketed as a light, fizzy rom‑com, but off screen it’s a full‑tilt prestige drama: a lead actor battling objectification, a lead actress pushed into a hiatus by trolls, irate real‑life royals drafting open letters, and a fanbase that abandoned the central couple to ship the side characters. If you came for palace scandals, you got them—just not always where you expected.
Entertainment rumors and trivia aggregated from public reporting. Treat speculation as unverified unless a cited source confirms it.