japanese workout app Photo: Courtesy of Creative Freaks Inc.

“Yo! Ready to work out?” It's Sunday and I'm at the park with Kei. Dressed in a loose black T-shirt, his collarbone exposed, he guides me through a two-minute exercise circuit, helpfully counting my reps as I go. But Kei isn’t a personal trainer or workout partner on loan—I’m here doing squats with my virtual boyfriend.

Welcome to Burn Your Fat With Me!, a cult Japanese workout app that arrived in the U.S. last summer. Launched in 2013 by Creative Freaks, a Kyoto-based indie developer, the game takes the popular otome format (first-person visual romance novels) and adds a fitness twist: You progress the story by doing sit-ups, squats, and other basic moves. Or, in the company’s words: “Cute guys with sexy voices passionately supporting your workout,” who make exercise “a bit more fun and a lot more passionate!”

It’s a fascinating concept that speaks for itself, really. “Unlike mainstream fitness apps, the focus of BYFWM is to motivate the player to start and maintain a workout routine through a story-driven game that casts them in the middle of a Japanese school romance,” the website proclaims. “After all, love is the greatest motivator!” Indeed—why not set out to find love and my six-pack at the same time?

japanese workout app Photo: Courtesy of Creative Freaks Inc.

In the main story line, you play the part of a manga fanatic who only wants to eat ice cream and snack all day. (This, I assume, is the app’s target audience.) You’ve already met Kei: He is a handsome drawing. But his first words to me are, “Hey, fatty.” His second? “So what’d you eat this morning?” He shames me for eating “two entire helpings of bacon and eggs”—both rich sources of protein, by the way—and then makes fun of my outfit. “You’re really something in that leotard, you know? All the other girls look like models, but you . . .”

To be frank, the chauvinist comments feel completely unnecessary—and offensive—detracting from an otherwise charming game. But I decide to power on nonetheless, in part out of sheer curiosity. My first workout is a timed sit-up session, which requires me to rest my phone on my knees and tap the screen each time I crunch forward. I perform 15 flawless repetitions. He praises me by telling me not to eat too much for lunch. Maybe this game turns into a murder mystery. Across the room, my real-world beau politely asks whether I want to watch a movie. “Can’t,” I reply. “I’m doing sit-ups with my virtual boyfriend.”