MMF

BL Bookrack: Totally Captivated, MMF Edition

August 10, 2013 by MJ and Michelle Smith 1 Comment

MJ: Back in the spring of 2010, I undertook a digital marathon read of Totally Captivated, a Korean boys’ love series by Hajin Yoo, in preparation for a review of its final volume, which was soon to be released in print by its North American publisher, NETCOMICS. It was an intense 48 hours, to be sure, and at the time, I enjoyed the series so much that this quote from my review turned up on the back of that print volume: “In its early volumes, Totally Captivated was smart, sexy, and fabulously dramatic. Now at the end of its final volume, it has also grown into an unexpectedly satisfying love story, rivaling the best of its genre.”

Since we love Korean manhwa in general (and BL manhwa in particular), for our contribution to the BL Manga Moveable Feast, Michelle suggested that we devote a column to Totally Captivated. I was excited by the idea, but a little worried that I might not love the series as much after so much time (and so much BL), and in some ways my worry was justified. Having been a relative newcomer to both manga and manhwa back then, it’s only natural that my tastes would have evolved, even over the course of just three years. Fortunately, the things I loved most about Totally Captivated have endured, and I can ultimately stand by the quote above.

So what is Totally Captivated? Since I’ve always found summarizing a story’s premise to be the most difficult part of a review (no, seriously), I’ll let my 2010 self do the heavy lifting:

Ewon Jung is a 23-year-old scholarship student in Seoul, whose curiosity over whether or not it is possible to have great sex without love (“It was possible.”) leads him to cheat on his boyfriend, Jiho.

Devastated and yearning for revenge, Jiho persuades his new boyfriend, a small-time loan shark named Mookyul Eun, to force Ewon into service at his office where he is expected to run errands, clean, and balance the books, all without payment. Unfortunately for Jiho, Mookyul soon develops an interest in Ewon, and it isn’t long before Jiho ends up shunted aside once again. Mookyul is controlling and occasionally violent, and Ewon is far from a pushover, but they eventually reach a mutually beneficial arrangement and begin living together. Things do not continue peacefully for long, however, as Ewon becomes aware that he is falling harder for Mookyul than he intended and experiences his first real taste of jealousy. Though the story’s premise initially seems contrived, its real function is to provide a stylish, humorous background to what is essentially a very moving story about two deeply damaged men learning how to love.

Care to add to that summary, Michelle?

MICHELLE: Man, am I ever glad to see you say that your worry was justified, because up to volume four I was a bit fretful that I wasn’t enjoying the series as much as I had hoped to. Happily, that did change.

I don’t think I have anything in particular to add to the summary other than the fact that it takes these guys a long time to figure out where they’re coming from, and there are a lot of scenes (especially in volumes three and four) where you wonder, “Why on earth does Ewon stay with Mookyul?!” It’s like the stereotypical sadistic seme turned up to eleven. It’s only later that you start to gain some insight into why Mookyul is behaving like he is, so it’s definitely worth it to persevere even when you’re disgusted by him.

MJ: I was re-reading my full review of volume six, and I see that I’d mentioned there how hard it was to continue to root for the relationship during a few of the middle volumes, and that’s definitely what I found even harder to deal with this time around. Yet I had a similar reaction by the end as I’d had originally—that once we knew enough about both of them to understand why they were who they were, it was actually a really romantic story. I don’t know that any other story with such a controlling love interest has managed to redeem itself with me to that extent, which makes Totally Captivated special, indeed.

The thing that makes this really work, in my opinion, is Ewon, because he’s such a consistent character all the way through, and even if we don’t understand everything about his past from the beginning, everything we learn as we go slots right into Ewon as we know him. From the beginning, he avoids commitment and real emotional connection, he’s absolutely clear with himself about what he’s willing to put up with and what he’s not, and he’ll find a way to extract himself from a situation he can’t tolerate, one way or another (I think this is why I was able to stomach him staying with Mookyul during their worst times—because when he’s done with something, he actually does leave).

But most of all, something that I think is made very clear is that (and I think this answers your question), with all that emotional avoidance in mind, the reason Ewon gets together with Mookyul, and even the reason he stays with him for a long time, is that he finds him incredibly attractive. Mookyul is exactly Ewon’s kind of hot, and he’s pretty honest with himself about the fact that this is a highly motivating factor for him, even to the end.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I know Ewon has essentially regarded Mookyul as his dream guy since middle school, but still… No matter how attractive a guy, I wouldn’t endure what Ewon endures! That said, he does also mention at one point that, because of what happened between them in the past—young Ewon pledged to wait for delinquent Mookyul to return to school, and though he did wait, his adult self forgot all about it, when to Mookyul it became a sustaining memory—he feels somewhat responsible for how messed up Mookyul has turned out. So that’s part of it, as well.

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The big turning point for me came in volume four, when Ewon’s friends pressure him to invite Mookyul out to drink with them, and it all goes horribly wrong. I loved seeing how concerned Ewon’s friends are with how controlling his new lover is, and I love the argument that results when Ewon and Mookyul get back home. “All I wanted was to introduce you to my friends. Just like other normal people get to do!”

I feel like this was the point where we realize that this isn’t going to just be some standard BL romance, but an in-depth character study. From here on out, we start to realize that Mookyul may actually be pretty clueless, despite how suave he seems to be. He has no idea how to be in a real relationship, and he’s going about it the wrong way because he can tell that Ewon is just looking for that thing that’s going to give him an excuse to bolt.

MJ: I love that volume four argument as well (and I actually adore pretty much all of Ewon’s school friends whom we meet during the series, but I expect we’ll talk about a few of them in-depth later), and the fact that Ewon never just takes any of Mookyul’s crap—there’s always a fight.

As I was reading your response, though, it also occurred to me that I think Mookyul’s bad behavior is maybe even part of why Ewon is willing to be involved with him, because he is always looking for an excuse to bolt. And since Mookyul is providing those excuses on a pretty much daily basis, it keeps that escape route always open for Ewon. Unlike with Jiho, a genuinely sweet, devoted guy whom Ewon couldn’t help but feel guilty for betraying, Mookyul is someone he could betray almost out of a sense of righteousness. Who could ever blame him for stepping out on Mookyul? He’s practically asking for it, right? And Ewon actually does this at one point early on in their relationship (more than once, if you consider his behavior with Dohoon). In a twisted way, a jerk like Mookyul is the perfect match for someone who always has one foot out the door, and that’s Ewon all over.

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MICHELLE: I can see that. I want to be clear, though, that I’m not putting responsibility for Mookyul’s horribly controlling ways on Ewon’s inability to commit. Because Mookyul really does and says some horrible things, from threatening to kill Ewon a couple of times to forcing himself on Ewon in volume four just after that argument in which it seems like he’s beginning to see the light, to concealing the fact that he’s in a sexual relationship with “Chairman Lee,” the father figure in his life, when his declarations of love had persuaded Ewon that it was safe to give his heart—that one, precious possession that he clung to when he had nothing else—to Mookyul.

MJ: I should be clear that I’m not, either. Mookyul is 100% responsible for every shitty thing he says and does to Ewon. Ewon’s only responsible for his decision to stay with him (which, even then, I’d probably still lay on Mookyul, given all the threats he makes, if Ewon hadn’t made it perfectly clear time and again that he’s totally capable of leaving when he wants to—and does at least twice over the course of the series), and that’s where I see his inability to commit coming into play. I’m saying that Mookyul’s abusive behavior is is attractive in some way to Ewon because it makes it easier for him to avoid dealing with his real feelings. But that doesn’t erase the fact that Mookyul’s behavior is abusive.

In fact, I’d say Mookyul is unbelievably lucky—much more than he deserves to be—in that he’s managed to find someone (Ewon) who, over time, is willing to wade through all his abuse and teach him how to be a person. I think it might make me angry that he gets to have that, actually, if Ewon didn’t ultimately get something he really needs out of the relationship. The fact that Yoo is able to write all this in a way I can stomach at all is pretty incredible.

MICHELLE: Yes, I agree with that completely.

It’s only in the second half of the series that we start to see that Mookyul is actually pretty desparate to keep the people he cares about from leaving him. He’s jealous of any other guy Ewon talks to, and attempts to restrict his behavior, and yet also continues to sleep with Chairman Lee because he can’t just toss aside his own “father,” to whom he owes so much. Because he’s compartmentalized those two parts of his life, it’s almost like he can’t even see that sleeping with Lee qualifies as cheating on Ewon, which is something guaranteed to drive him away.

MJ: And, you know, I have so little sympathy for cheaters (it’s a thing), you think I’d have at least a moment of satisfaction when Ewon gets a taste of his own medicine (after all, the first thing we see Ewon do in the series is cheat on Jiho), but Ewon’s so genuinely distraught when he realizes that his pain over the discovery of Mookyul and Chairman Lee’s relationship is the same pain he’s inflicted on Jiho… I couldn’t even get there. And oh, Ewon’s pain. Yoo writes this perfectly, because it isn’t just pain Ewon feels, but also the humiliation of discovering that he’d been essentially made a fool—that he’d stood by, smiling, while Mookyul was cheating on him in the next room. Ewon’s sickening reaction and his remorse towards Jiho… it’s all written with such emotional truth.

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MICHELLE: Exactly! What I really loved about all of this is that it honestly, genuinely shocked me. We’re so conditioned by romantic fiction of all kinds to believe the behaviorally challenged (seriously, I tried out and rejected ten adjectives here) hero when he claims that his beloved is the only one for him that I totally did believe it when Mookyul said so. It never even occurred to me that Yoo would let him be lying. But, of course, in reality people lie all the time, and they hurt each other like this all the time. It’s a complication to Ewon and Mookyul’s relationship that I can love deeply because it is realistic and not just some genre trope.

MJ: Yes! And actually, there is a ton of lying in this series, perpetrated by characters we care about—in fact, Ewon does more of it than anyone. He lies frequently, sometimes to save himself from grief (or serious harm), sometimes to save someone else, and sometimes just because it’s easy to do and it makes a potentially complicated situation less complicated for him. And because he’s our POV character, we know about all of it.

MICHELLE: I love that, even though he’s our POV character, Yoo still lets him do some pretty shitty things. Like when he leaves Mookyul’s place and goes straight to Dohoon, the friend he knows has a thing for him, and proceeds to sleep with him. Poor Dohoon thinks that Ewon has chosen him at last, but it turns out not to be the case. Ewon’s just distracting himself from his
pain.

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MJ: Help! I’m torn between two emphatic responses!

First, yes, I so agree with what you’ve said here. I love the fact that Ewon is not always a good guy, at least when it comes to the way he treats his romantic and/or sexual partners (and in Dohoon’s case, his romantically-interested friends). Which isn’t to say that he’s an anti-hero by any means. He’s a protagonist you can’t help but love. It’s just that he’s a mess in a lot of ways, and one of the ways in which that manifests himself is in the way he takes advantage of his attractiveness to other men.

But what I maybe love even more is the way his circle of friends feels like the real thing, in all the best and worst ways. Dohoon is a fantastic character (one of my favorites in the series, actually), but more than that, I know that guy. Not necessarily in the most obvious sense—I don’t have many close friends from wealthy, connected families—but that friend, that long-time friend with whom one has weird sexual tension that is maybe mostly one-sided, but you’d do anything for each other no matter what shit is going down… I know that guy. And Ewon’s whole circle feels like that. They drink together, they date, they break up, they sometimes hate each other, but mostly love each other to bits. They can hurt and use each other and ultimately be forgiven. Those are friends I know and love. And though Ewon’s friends are sort of in the periphery of this story, they are fully realized all the same.

MICHELLE: I find I’m partial to a guy whose name I don’t know, so I’ll just call him the Peacemaker. He’s the one in the scene with Mookyul and Ewon’s friends who is trying to smooth things out, reinterpreting what other people are saying in order to foster understanding and avoid unpleasantness. I mean, he’s just a bit character, really, and we already can tell so much about him by how he acts in that situation.

MJ: I know that guy, too! I think I used to be that guy!

MICHELLE: I pretty much am that guy!

MJ: I think you’ve articulated something here, too, that is key to the success of this series. The fact that Yoo creates a character like the Peacemaker, whose name we don’t even know, but who is so immediately familiar and fully fleshed-out for us in his tiny role—that’s exactly what she does throughout the series, and she kind of does it on the sly. Particularly early on, before we start getting into the meat of Ewon and Mookyul’s histories (which takes a while, partly because Ewon avoids thinking about his past and because he lies so often), Totally Captivated is a deceptively light read. It’s over-the-top and genuinely funny (I’d forgotten, really, how funny it is), and on the surface it appears to be pretty much just a stylish romp. But Yoo is so skillful with things like characterization, that before you know it, you’re hooked into something much deeper, and you’re not even sure how you go there.

MICHELLE: And the story is just well constructed in general. The most significant action takes the form of conversations (or arguments), which I liked, but there’s also the storyline about the power struggle within Chairman Lee’s organization, and I thought that was handled quite well. There’s not too much of the gangster stuff to make it boring, but it ties together reasonably well and impacts our leads in significant ways.

MJ: Yeah, gangster stuff is not usually something I’m extremely interested in, but not only does it support the main romantic story in various ways, especially in terms of dealing with Mookyul’s relationship with Chairman Lee (which did not play out as I expected!), but the day-to-day stuff in the office of a loan shark actually provided some of my favorite moments in the series! Obviously the main relationship is developing in that office, but I also really love the way Ewon makes a place for himself with Mookyul’s underlings, and the way they all support him. There’s a scene somewhat early on in which Ewon is studying in the office and though he’s already asked everyone if they needed coffee, Mookyul fails to ask for any until later on. When he then does ask for coffee, his guys basically reprimand him, “You should have raised your hand when he asked.” It’s such a heartwarming little moment.

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Then, of course, there’s all the stuff with Byungsoo Yoo, which is so interesting. He’s an underling working for Mookyul, who gets kicked out early on for embezzling from the organization—a feat he clumsily accomplishes by convincing Ewon to let him temporarily take over the office bookkeeping (it had originally been his job before it was Ewon’s) while Ewon is busy with schoolwork. There are a whole slew of things I love about Byungsoo’s story, though not for his sake, but rather for what his story reveals about both Ewon and Mookyul over the course of the series.

First, during the scene in which he asks to take over the bookkeeping, Byungsoo makes a homophobic remark to Ewon, and Ewon’s reaction is so much exactly who he is. He doesn’t try to defend himself (why should he have to defend his existance to anyone, especially a guy like that?) or engage him on the subject at all, he just quietly writes him off as a person.

Then later, as the increasingly clueless Byungsoo walks away, spouting promises to buy him a drink, Ewon just gives him the finger. “I don’t want some stinking homophobe to buy me a drink.” It’s just Ewon all over. He’s totally comfortable with himself and his sexuality, and anyone who’s not simply isn’t worth his concern. And yet, still, when the shit inevitably hits the fan, Ewon throws himself to the lions (Mookyul) in order to save Byungsoo from a grisly death. Which, incidentally, ends up being a surprisingly hilarious moment, in the way that Yoo creates hilarious moments.

MICHELLE: I think that was our first inkling, too, that Ewon isn’t going to necessarily be completely honest about everything. Because he didn’t ever really confess that he pretty much knew that the guy was going to embezzle, only that he wanted to take over the accounting and Ewon let him.

MJ: Yes, you’re right. This is our first really clear glimpse of Ewon’s lying for self-preservation, something that happens a lot, and which I don’t even totally disapprove of, I find, which is interesting for me as a reader.

Then, later, when Byungsoo re-enters the story, it’s Mookyul we end up learning things about—namely that he’s smarter and more forgiving than I had realized, though it all seems so obvious once it’s out there.

MICHELLE: We start to see new facets of Mookyul once he’s given up everything for Ewon. It’s like he can relax at last because Ewon has come back to him. There’s a great scene early in volume six just after they’ve been reunited when he is still clearly himself and yet exudes a completely different vibe, saying, “It’s strange… I have nothing left now. But I’m happy.”

MJ: This brings up something that’s a point of discomfort for me in the series, and that definitely bothered me more on my second read than it had originally. Both Ewon and Mookyul have epic abandonment issues that make them each who they are, and it all feels very real. It rings true, even during the most super-dramatic portions of the series. Mookyul needs to control and Ewon needs to detach—this is how they’ve each learned to cope. Obviously each character’s behavior is destructive to himself and his relationships, and we watch that happening, over and over. Nobody, including Mookyul, Ewon, and the author thinks this behavior is healthy. It just is what it is.

Where I feel uncomfortable is where they ultimately end up, but I wonder if that’s just because it pings my own issues. By the end, they’ve each finally accepted that the other *isn’t going to leave* and that’s a huge relief for them both. They can worry about losing each other to outside forces, but they’re also there to keep each other safe from those things. And I really appreciate that this intense universe of two, which is so often just written as a super-romantic vision of controlling, over-protective behavior, is instead here a mutual coping mechanism that can help these two seriously damaged men build a happy life together—one happier than either of them ever hoped to find. It’s brilliant, actually. Yoo has taken an overused, unhealthy romantic cliche and turned it into something understandable and actually not creepy.

But a little bit? I’m still creeped.

MICHELLE: I’d say I’m more concerned than creeped. It’s just not healthy to be so dependent on another person that you declare “I won’t be able to breathe without you.” But, as you said, it’s understandable given what they’ve gone through. I hope that, with time and maturity, they’ll be able to achieve the ability to function separately as need be while retaining a feeling of certainty about their relationship.

MJ: The other thing that bothers me is that I worry that Ewon doesn’t get his way often enough in the bedroom, and this also was a bigger issue for me on my second read. Now, I’m not even talking about the non-con early on. The power dynamic is seriously screwed up in the beginning, and even though Ewon proves he can get out of situations he doesn’t want to be in, it’s still clear that he sometimes goes through with things he doesn’t want just because it’s easier, which isn’t the same as actual consent. This is a problem, and though it’s handled in a more complex manner here than in a lot of BL, it’s still yucky.

But what I’m talking about here is just their general bedroom dynamic. Ewon finds Mookyul to be pretty impossibly sexy, and clearly wants to sleep with him, so that’s not the issue. The issue is that they always have sex the way Mookyul wants to have it, and I never get the feeling that this is really okay with Ewon.

Yoo tackles the whole seme/uke (if we’re talking Japanese BL tropes), top/bottom business in a way that feels more authentic than what we usually see (I’m not saying it is authentic—how would I know?—just that it reads like it is, so I’m able to buy in), but where it works well in her scenes with Ewon and Dohoon (both exclusively “pitchers” who aren’t particularly interested in experimentation, which leads to verbal sparring), the arrangement between Ewon and Mookyul (also two “pitchers”) just reads as perpetually unsatisfying for Ewon. I’m unhappy with this state of affairs, and Ewon should be, too.

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MICHELLE: I wondered a bit about that myself. I think Ewon only makes one complaint about that aspect of their relationship, and it’s not followed up on. But after he leaves Mookyul and goes on his sex-as-distraction spree, he starts off by being “catcher” for Dohoon. I’m not sure what he does with those other guys, but I kind of thought maybe he realized he liked it after all. I do note here that this title is rated 16+, so we don’t get any kind of intimate details of bedroom relations, for which I’m grateful.

And I wonder how flexible Mookyul is in that department. When Ewon discovers that Mookyul and Lee are sleeping together, he implies that Mookyul is the catcher in that scenario and Mookyul doesn’t deny it, but doesn’t confirm it, either.

MJ: Hmmmmm, perhaps you’re right. I suppose my overall reaction is based on a sense that we mostly see Ewon just exhausted from sex with Mookyul, rather than basking in the afterglow. So I kind of felt that he never really liked it as much as he could. And when he goes to Dohoon, it’s out of a pretty destructive kind of need, so I’m not convinced he actually wants the sex then either, but rather just to be wanted, which is something Dohoon can easily deliver (unfortunately for Dohoon). I mean, Ewon’s a guy who clearly likes sex, but I’m not sure that particular spree is representative of his healthiest impulses.

Speaking of Chairman Lee… wow. There are very few characters I hate more than Chairman Lee, between the semi-incestuous (and definitely abusive) relationship with his “son,” to his downright *mean* behavior with Ewon, he enraged me more often than anyone else in the series, with a healthy side of SKEEVE. Though, true to form, Yoo managed to surprise me with him in the end.

MICHELLE: While majorly, majorly icky, I still found Chairman Lee pretty fascinating. Yoo could’ve easily turned him into a mustache-twirling villain, but he never feels like that at all.

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MJ: Yeah, he’s significantly less that kind of villain than, say, Papa Dino in Banana Fish. Fortunately, he’s also never portrayed as actually sympathetic, which I don’t think I could stomach. But he is a more fully-formed character than your average sexual abuser might be, and that at least makes it easier to understand Mookyul’s extreme loyalty. And this makes it feel that much more profound when he actually does cut Lee out of his life in order to be with Ewon, too. As twisted as Mookyul’s relationship is with Lee, I think they actually love each other. It’s just that this love is constantly compromised by Lee having established a deeply inappropriate sexual relationship with Mookyul.

And speaking of twisted relationships… oh, Jiho. Poor Jiho. Want to talk about him a bit?

MICHELLE: Sure! I actually grew to like him quite a lot. I like that he was still able to care about Ewon, despite everything that happened, and felt close enough to challenge him on some of his bad behavior. I think this may be another case of someone finding love and security—Jiho eventually acquires a sweet and adoring boyfriend—and then being able to move past some of their past hangups.

MJ: I was surprised to end up liking Jiho as much as I did, even though he was initially wronged by Ewon. I thought his revenge (or what I interpreted as simple revenge at the time) was disproportionate to the crime. But he absolutely won me over, and actually his friendship with Ewon is one of my favorites in the series. It’s one of those times where I think maybe they just got it wrong the first time around, and they were always meant to be friends. I love watching the two of them care for each other, which they do over and over. And Jiho’s little declaration of independence is possibly the cutest thing ever.

And here’s another area where Yoo just really gets it right. When Ewon is going through his self-destructive sex spree, Jiho can’t help but care, and he kind of scolds himself for worrying about who Ewon is sleeping with when he’s got his own awesome boyfriend to care about now. And that’s exactly what would happen. It’s not like we stop caring about people who wrong us… if we did, they wouldn’t have been able to hurt us in the first place. So Jiho can’t help but care.

MICHELLE: And, of course, there’s that great moment above when Ewon is able to apologize to Jiho for the pain he caused, finally knowing what it feels like to be betrayed by the one to whom you’ve given your heart. I think we’re back to the “Ewon has great friends” point again. :) But actually, Mookyul has some loyal friends, too. Especially Sangchul, who’s his right-hand man in many ways.

MJ: You’re right, of course! I mean, technically Mookyul’s friends are kinda paid to be on his side, but it’s obvious that their loyalty to him is real. And later, when Mookyul really needs them, they come through, particularly Sangchul and, surprisingly, Byungsoo.

MICHELLE: I guess we are Friend Fangirls for this series. They provide a good deal of the humor, too.

MJ: It’s true, they do. Like the entire section where the the boys in the office are trying to cover up the fact that Ewon’s in hiding after having accidentally broken an important vase? That whole thing is hilarious, from start to finish.

Heh, I was going through the books to pick out some of my favorite bits of humor, and there are just so many! Humor is so much a part of the fabric of Yoo’s storytelling, I get the feeling that she’s barely trying; humor just happens. Sure, sometimes she takes the time to go all chibi-like to punctuate the humor (and her chibis are freaking adorable, I have to say). But so often it’s just part of the drama. I mean, there are are, in the middle of a life-or-death scene, and somehow there’s nothing funnier than Ewon suddenly exclaiming, “The crazy fucker that tried to grab your sac in elementary school was me!”

MICHELLE: I thought it was a good sign when I snickered on, like, page three. That “It was possible.” line is just so well-timed.

MJ: Heh, yes, it really is. I suppose this is what you get when an author is just plain funny herself, rather than trying to make jokes. She can’t help but endow her protagonist with the same natural comic timing she has. And the same self-deprectating humor, too.

We get to see that directly aimed at Yoo, even, from time to time, during occasional breaks in the fourth wall. One of my favorite instances of this is in volume two, before Ewon is sexually or romantically involved with Mookyul, and he’s gossiping about Mookyul’s relationship to Chairman Lee with Sangchul. “Hajin Yoo says she’s gonna elaborate on the relationship between Mookyul and the big boss in a doujinshi,” says Sangchul. Ewon responds, “How can you trust what that lazy-ass says?” at which point he is punched in the eye by the text bubble.

MICHELLE: Hee. I’d forgotten that bit.

So, are we basically saying that Totally Captivated has it all (save for gratuitous sex scenes)? Good points, bad points, humor, romance, well-developed characters, and loads of profanity?

MJ: And eyes! I love the heavily-lined, detailed eyes we see in so much female-aimed manhwa. Yoo totally delivers on the eyes.

But yes, I guess that’s what we’re saying. Now that you’ve laid it all out there like that, it makes me want more.

MICHELLE: Alas, this appears to be Yoo’s only work released in English. It looks like she did follow through with writing a few doujinshi based on the series, though—including one featuring Ewon’s fourteen-year-old little sister.

MJ: I procrastinated on picking up the volumes that NETCOMICS printed (they were awfully spendy) and they sold out long ago. Though, given the 18+ rating, I suppose none of these is the little sister story. Sad.

MICHELLE: I actually had no idea they’d printed any of the doujinshi!

MJ: I still have some hope for a manhwa resurgence over here, and given how much I’ve enjoyed most of the Korean BL I’ve read, more of that (and more of Hajin Yoo) is absolutely on my wish list.

MICHELLE: Mine, too!

All images © Hajin Yoo, English text © NETCOMICS. This article was written for the 801 Manga Moveable Feast. Check out Otaku Champloo for more!

More full-series discussions with MJ & Michelle:

Full-series multi-guest roundtables: Hikaru no Go | Banana Fish | Basara | Gerard & Jacques | Flower of Life

Yun Kouga MMF: Final Link Roundup

July 21, 2013 by MJ Leave a Comment

We’ve come to the end of the Yun Kouga Manga Moveable Feast! Though participation was undeniably low, we’re excited about the contributions that were made to the Feast. Here’s a roundup from the past few days:

I weighed in with a new 3 Things Thursday, in which I picked out three (ish) of my favorite female characters from Yun Kouga’s catalogue, including one from Earthian, which I read for the first time this week.

The male-centric sensibility often applies to shoujo manga as well—particularly those penned by creators who enjoy a strong undercurrent of BL subtext in their work, and this absolutely describes Yun Kouga. After all, even Gestalt‘s kick-ass heroine, Ouri, is actually a man temporarily endowed with a female form. Still, Kouga-sensei does not let me down! Female characters are always part of the fabric of her stories, even the most BL-rific of her worlds. For today’s 3 Things Thursday, I’ll look at three of these!

At Experiments in Manga, Ash Brown revisits the first two volumes of Loveless by way of Viz’s new omnibus release – Loveless, Omnibus 1:

The beginning of Loveless is a story of intense yearning and loneliness with characters who have been broken, damaged, and twisted. But even when they despair they still cling to hope. Ritsuka has trouble accepting himself and difficulty trusting others; the attention he receives from Soubi is both welcomed and feared. Loveless is also a story about the power of words. In part because of his association with Soubi, Ritsuka is pulled into a world where battles are waged with words and spells are cast that can cause considerable pain and physical damage … The first omnibus of Loveless raises more questions than it provides answers, but it does establish an intriguing tale and characters. Even having read it before, I still find Loveless to be a strangely enthralling and compelling manga.

Continuing the trend, our own Anna Neatrour at Manga Report gives the Viz’s first omnibus a second chance and finds she’s glad she did – Loveless Vols. 1 and 2:

Some manga seems a bit too edited or mass produced. Unless you’re seeking out manga from some of the more alternative magazines, most mainstream manga isn’t all that weird. The pinnacle of enjoyable manga weirdness in my mind is Est Em’s Working Kentauros. That manga about the slice of life tribulations about Centaur salarymen provides the reader with a peak into a manga creator’s subconscious and ability to be creative without boundaries. Loveless isn’t as unconventionally weird as Working Kentauros, but its combination of cat people, light bondage, magical battles, mysterious organizations, abusive parents, master/servant relationships, and occasional licking definitely add up to a manga that’s a bit more distinctive and quirky than one might expect.

And it’s all Loveless, all the time as Michelle & I celebrate our 100th installment of Off the Shelf with an epic discussion of the series – Off the Shelf, MMF Edition: Loveless:

MICHELLE: I really love the imagery of the “I can’t let go of anyone’s hand” moment, too. Another thing that strikes me about that shirt-buttoning scene is what Ritsuka says during it: “Y’know… I could never do anything like that for you.” Even though he finds violence abhorrent, it’s still his instinct to give Soubi what he needs/craves, and it saddens him that this is something that he simply cannot do.

MJ: Yes, yes! The fact that he words it that way, “for you” rather than “to you” (which is surely the way Kio sees it) acknowledges its importance to Soubi, and makes it clear that, even if Ritsuka can’t quite understand why Soubi would want something like that, he understands that he shouldn’t just dismiss Soubi’s feelings about it.

This wraps up the Yun Kouga MMF! Many thanks to everyone who participated. The complete archive can be found here. We now make way for the Boys’ Love MMF, to be hosted in August by Khursten Santos at Otaku Champloo!

Off the Shelf, MMF Edition: Loveless

July 20, 2013 by MJ and Michelle Smith 27 Comments

Warning: This column contains SPOILERS for all volumes of Yun Kouga’s Loveless currently available in English.

MJ: Hello readers! As you know, Manga Bookshelf is currently hosting the Manga Moveable Feast, a monthly virtual book club in which the manga blogosphere comes together to discuss a single manga, topic, or mangaka. This month’s Feast features the work of Yun Kouga (read my introduction), a versatile artist whose work runs the gamut from RPG-style shounen fantasy, to josei romance, to boys’ love, and more. But in North America, Kouga-sensei is best known by far for her ongoing series Loveless, a shoujo fantasy involving supernatural intrigue, spell battles, and cat ears, but most of all, heartbreak. Lots and lots of heartbreak.

Originally published in Ichijinsha’s action-heavy, BL-tinged shoujo magazine Comic Zero Sum, Loveless was a great fit for Tokyopop’s lineup, alongside titles like Kazuya Minekura’s Saiyuki Reload and Shiho Sugiura’s Silver Diamond, but after the demise of Tokyopop’s North American publishing division, fans of the series were left hanging with no new releases after 2008’s release of volume 8. Fortunately, Viz Media has come to the rescue, not only releasing the series’ subsequent volumes (now standing at 11, both here and in Japan), but also re-releasing its earlier volumes in omnibus format.

As a latecomer to Loveless, all I really knew about it going in is that it featured cat boys and (possibly) some kind of sketchy shota relationship—either of which would have been enough to send me running quickly in the opposite direction—but as Michelle and I delved in to the series’ first two volumes, I quickly discovered that the series has much, much more to offer. Viz’s second omnibus release (encompassing volumes 3-4) inspired me to rave excitedly on camera, and further reading has only increased that excitement. Events of the third omnibus (volumes 5-6) led to this ode, Lovesick over Loveless. I’ll let that post speak for itself.

The truth is, Yun Kouga’s work (and Loveless in particular) hits so many of my personal storytelling kinks in so many instances, it would be prohibitively time-consuming to catalogue them all. But perhaps more significantly, she manages to address several of my usual turn-offs (and at least one known deal-breaker) in a way that makes them somehow palatable, even to me. As a result, my reaction to Loveless has begun to resemble nothing more than a kind of romantic longing, characterized by ever-wandering thoughts and a persistent love-struck haze. in short, I’m lovesick over Loveless.

Now that Viz’s omnibus releases have finally caught up to the newer volumes, I’ve been able to race through what’s available in this series, and though I think the latest volume may have broken my heart beyond repair, I’ve invited Michelle to become broken along with me. I hope she’ll forgive me. Michelle?

MICHELLE: As someone who wishes for more unhappy endings in manga, I certainly don’t object to heartbreak! And Kouga-sensei offers the best kind, as it’s not her style to simply serve up dramatic and/or tragic plot twists, but rather to focus on what these upheavals mean and feel like to the characters. And it’s in the understanding and the relating that lies the heartbreak.

MJ: Well said, Michelle! For those who may just be joining us, I’ll briefly go over the story’s premise, and some more recent plot points.

Ritsuka is a 12-year-old who has suffered a couple of major tragedies. First, two years prior, he experienced some sort of massive amnesia which left him with no memory whatsoever of the person he was before that time. This sent his mother into an increasingly unstable condition in which she does not believe that he is her son, and physically abuses him whenever he betrays himself as not “her Ritsuka.” More recently, his older brother, Seimei, to whom he was very close, was found horribly murdered—burned beyond recognition—with no explanation other than a cryptic message left for Ritsuka blaming his murder on an organization called “Septimal Moon.”

As the story begins, Ritsuka is approached by Soubi, an art college student whom Ritsuka has never met or even heard of, though he claims to have known Seimei. Soubi introduces Ritsuka to an underground society in which spell battles are fought by two-person teams made up of one “fighter,” who performs the spells, and one “sacrifice,” who directs the battle and takes all the damage for the team. Ritsuka, he is told, is a sacrifice, like his brother before him. Furthermore, Soubi was his brother’s “fighter” and has been bequeathed to Ritsuka upon his brother’s death.

(read right-to-left)

This situation is difficult for Ritsuka, as he struggles to get used to the idea of Soubi, who wants (needs?) to be completely dominated by him, but as the two find themselves forced to fight together, they eventually form a meaningful bond. Just as Ritsuka’s starting to get used to his new circumstances, things get even more complicated when, in volume seven, he finally discovers two very painful truths—that Seimei is alive (and had someone else killed in his place) and that Soubi is still bound to him.

Obviously, there’s a lot more to these points (the second one, in particular, becomes absolutely heartbreaking in volume eleven), and much more has happened than what little I’ve stated here, but I expect these things will come to light as the column goes on.

MICHELLE: Yes, there’s so much that I hardly know where to start. I guess I’ll go chronologically, and start with the fact that I’m absolutely fascinated by whatever it was that happened right around Ritsuka’s tenth birthday. It’s not just amnesia, and it’s not just a personality shift—even the subjects he’s good at in school are suddenly different! That might be, to me, the most ominous thing. Where did that ability come from? Was it always latent in Ritsuka? What on earth happened to cause such a psychic break? I have a feeling it has to be something absolutely horrible perpetrated by Seimei, and I wonder how many years it’ll be before readers finally know the answer.

And, of course, the massive betrayal in learning that someone you loved and thought you knew was never really that person in the first place? And this is exactly what I meant in my response above—the reveal to readers that Seimei is alive is handled with absolutely no fanfare. Kouga-sensei is not attempting to shock the readers, she’s forcing the readers to watch Ritsuka find out, and that’s where the real drama is.

MJ: Yes! That whole thing is just brilliantly executed, in my opinion. Some of that realization starts slowly, as Ritsuka finds out, little by little, that the Seimei he thinks he knew doesn’t resemble the one anyone else knew in the slightest, and that even he knew on some level that Seimei was really frightening all that time, but hid those thoughts away, even from himself. Just that is horrifying enough. But then he discovers the truth–that Seimei is alive–in the cruelest way possible, from a third party, as he faces Seimei’s new fighter in battle.

What I love most about all of this, though, is that Ritsuka gets to have real, complicated reactions to all of it. There’s no switch inside him that turns off his love for Seimei or, to a great extent, even his trust in Seimei, despite the genuinely awful truths he’s learned. Seimei isn’t the person Ritsuka thought he was, but Ritsuka’s version of Seimei doesn’t just die. It can’t. It’s too much a part of Ritsuka himself.

There’s a scene in volume 8, where Ritsuka is finally face-to-face with Seimei (who has slaughtered his way through the building to get to him, even writing “Ritsuka, I’m back,” on the walls in blood), and he’s thinking, “The fact that Seimei is here… it’s proof of so many lies.” Yet his first real reaction is gratitude that his brother isn’t dead after all. And that’s not a feeling he can just put aside.

(read right-to-left)

MICHELLE: It happens a lot of times in Loveless that Ritsuka is allowed to feel two different things simultaneously, which is not something I’ve seen a lot of in manga, come to think of it. In the earlier volumes, this happens most often regarding Soubi, whom Ritsuka simultaneously wants to see and wants to avoid. And just when he decides to believe in Soubi, Seimei comes back and puts everything in turmoil.

Soubi’s reaction to learning Seimei is alive (in volume six) is heartbreaking as well, as you so eloquently (and with perfect visual aids) write about in your Fanservice Friday post. I love how this just really cements the realization that Soubi, despite appearances to the contrary, isn’t some simple creepy seme type. He’s a broken and vulnerable person who feels more Loveless than Beloved. He’s been cast aside with apparent ease by the person who was his “God,” and is desperate for Ritsuka to make their bond stronger. He must know that his bond with Seimei still exists, but would now rather have Ritsuka for his “master.”

MJ: I’m glad you brought this up so quickly, Michelle, because it’s Soubi’s place in all this that has broken my heart most gravely, and it’s ultimately a greater source of pain for Ritsuka, I think, than his brother’s betrayal—at least by the time the end of volume eleven rolls around. The danger signs are there early on and, as you say, even when he is first struck with the truth of Seimei’s betrayal, there’s a sense that he already understands the potential ramifications of that in his relationship with Ritsuka. Even before we’re made fully aware of the … inseverable nature of his fighter bond with Seimei, it’s clear that something’s up, and as Ritsuka’s face-off with his brother looms closer, Soubi becomes more and more visibly desperate to belong to Ritsuka, and Ritsuka alone.

The scene in volume seven where Soubi entreats Ritsuka to fully accept him so that he can fight for him against Seimei’s new fighter, Nisei, is one of the most affecting in the series—and in a series like this, that’s saying a lot. “If you accept me, Ritsuka… If you forgive me, Ritsuka… If you want me, Ritsuka…” Soubi says with startling calm, like he was reciting a sutra, as the brand Seimei marked him with bleeds painfully on his neck. It’s a stunning scene, made more so by the fact that Ritsuka’s left to wrestle with his own motivations—his fear that by accepting Soubi he’s simply manipulating him.

(read right-to-left)

MICHELLE: Ritsuka really does have all the power. More than he wants to have, really, especially when Soubi insists that Ritsuka treat him like an object. It’s rather hard for me to understand wanting so desperately to be dominated, but in Soubi’s case it seems to have some connection to wanting to forget that he is a person and the emotional pain to which people are susceptible.

MJ: There are some pretty powerful scenes around this same time-frame on that subject, too. I’m thinking particularly of the beginning of volume seven, which is when Ritsuka finds out that his brother carved his name, “Beloved,” into Soubi’s neck. It’s Soubi’s friend Kio who lets the cat out of the bag, as he opens Ritsuka’s eyes to Seimei’s violent tendencies. The whole scene is pretty powerful, with Ritsuka demanding that Soubi show him the damage Seimei did to his body. But the bit that really strikes me is the conversation afterwards, in which Soubi explains that, from his perspective, Seimei’s brand isn’t violence, but rather a bond—one that he entered into willingly.

It’s complicated for the characters and for us as readers, as we try not only to wrap our heads around the world as Soubi sees it, but also try to reconcile that with the knowledge that Seimei really is violent, and that his bond with Soubi was only forged to serve himself. I really like the fact that Kouga portrays Soubi’s subservience to Ritsuka and Seimei as being both the same (from Soubi’s viewpoint) and totally different (from Ritsuka and Seimei’s viewpoints).

(read right-to-left)

MICHELLE: I found that whole sequence absolutely chilling, somehow. Perhaps it was seeing normally upbeat Kio delivering a line like, “Oh, I knew him. I hated him.” It just sets the tone for all that follows, as Ritsuka begins to realize all the weird little things that would happen when Seimei was around, like fish mysteriously dying and such. Ritsuka pushed these niggling doubts aside and convinced himself he wasn’t afraid of Seimei and that he loved him, but the truth was, he knew something was off all along. Just more evidence to the support the “Seimei did something awful” theory for the amnesia onset.

MJ: Yes, I agree (I can’t wait until we finally get some answers about that), though I wonder, of course, how Seimei is the way he is, too. I mean, is he just a sociopath? That’s the simplest answer, but I don’t necessarily expect things to be simple in a Yun Kouga manga.

I was going back just now to the first omnibus, which I hadn’t read in quite a while, and was struck anew with Soubi’s surprise at discovering that he actually loved Ritsuka. He’d gone to him, because Seimei had ordered him to do it, and had told Ritsuka he loved him, because Seimei said he must. But he somehow hadn’t expected to really feel that kind of love. At the time that just kind of went right by me, but now that we know so much more about Seimei, and especially about his relationship with Soubi, it makes so much sense. He’d only learned to be subservient to these really horrible people—first Ritsu, then Seimei—and had no idea that a master like Ritsuka even existed. It’s heartbreaking, really.

MICHELLE: It is. It makes you wonder what kind of person Soubi could’ve become without these influences. Not that he’s at all a bad person as he is, of course. But he certainly isn’t free; it’s the last thing he wants.

Your comment does bring up the point that there’s tremendous reread potential in Loveless. There are all manner of nuances that the reader puzzles over initially, and perhaps that’s why I’ve seen some reviews describe the series as confusing, but which might make a great deal more sense in retrospect. Even though the series is kind of notorious for the time it’s taking to unfurl, that’s actually due to the publishing schedule and not to any lollygagging about in the story itself. At least, I don’t think so. I get the sense that Kouga knows exactly what she’s doing.

MJ: I agree, though I think we’re definitely at an advantage being fed all of it at once. Still, as you say, there is tremendous re-read potential in this series, and I expect I can keep myself busy during the year-long wait between volumes revisiting what’s come before. Just the short time I spent with the first two volumes today made me want to re-read the entire thing from the start—and I’ve barely just finished!

You know, as anxious as I am to find out what happened to Rtisuka’s memories, I feel like it might break my heart to lose the Ritsuka we know now.

MICHELLE: I was thinking last night that Ritsuka’s plight reminds me some of Echo in Dollhouse, in that the protagonist has this other/earlier self that s/he’s trying to regain, believing it to be superior to their current self. (Ritsuka even believes that his being who he is now is “a sin for which I deserve to be punished.”) But what will happen to the person s/he is currently? In Dollhouse a melding of sorts happened, if I recall rightly, and I hope that we’ll get something like that in Loveless.

Because Ritsuka really is very endearing and very consistently characterized, too. One of the things that most impresses me about how he’s written is how his most strongly held opinions and desires are clearly the result of the things he has been through, but Kouga just lets readers notice that themselves rather than putting up flashing arrows pointing it out. He’s yearning for someone to love, he jumps at the chance to “make memories” and leave people with photographs of himself so they won’t forget him, he’s utterly opposed to inflicting any kind of violence, and he absolutely hates secrets and lies. When Kio apologizes after bringing up Seimei’s violent tendencies, Ritsuka reacts with, “There isn’t anything that I don’t want to know! Not knowing is the worst!”

He’s an honest, gentle, and caring boy in a way that isn’t cloying at all.

MJ: And he’s just willful enough to take charge in the way Soubi needs him to as well, without being a sadist like his brother. There are a number of scenes that spring immediately to mind for me when I think of Ritsuka and the moments that have most defined him for us over the course of the story which I’d love to discuss with you. I’m glad you mentioned Ritsuka’s burning need to “make memories,” with people, because the there was an early scene along those lines that struck me much more profoundly a second time around.

I was startled to recall as I paged through the first omnibus volume again that the very first thing he does with Soubi after meeting him is to drag him off to “make memories.” The guy’s a complete stranger and an adult, but since he identified himself as a friend of Seimei’s (or, well, he let Ritsuka identify him as such—I think that’s an important distinction), that was good enough for Ritsuka. Then, my heart broke to pieces in just one panel, when Ritsuka insists that he’s sure Soubi will forget that Ritsuka was even there with him if he doesn’t take pictures. It’s a tiny thing then that we don’t fully understand until later, but it just shattered me.

MICHELLE: Practically the first thing I thought when Ritsuka immediately buys into the “a friend of Seimei’s” claim is “Nooo, don’t go with him, little boy!” And, y’know, Ritsuka’s not a stupid kid. I’m sure he knows not to go off with strangers, but he was desperate for any kind of link to his beloved (no pun intended) brother, and so he just lights up and his demeanor changes entirely.

His assertion that, without photos, Soubi will just forget he was ever there makes me wonder if something like that has actually happened to him. It doesn’t seem that Misaki, his troubled mother, has forgotten him particularly so much that she doesn’t see the person he is now, unless it’s to accuse him of not being “her” Ritsuka.

MJ: I wonder this, too, and it keeps on coming up, over and over again, in various ways. Then later, in the battle with Bloodless—a pair who use their enemies’ worst fears against them—we find out that Ritsuka’s worst fear is not just that he’ll be forgotten, or even that he’ll forget himself again, but that the few memories he actually has will be proven false as well. He’s already lost the memory of most of his own life, and now he’s discovered that his most precious memories of his brother may be nothing but lies as well. So if Seimei is a lie and Ritsuka is also a lie, what does he even have that’s real at all?

I’m thinking it all comes around to the memory loss in one way or another, compounded by the revelation of Seimei’s massive deception. In another scene that comes to mind from early in volume seven, Kio expresses disbelief that anyone could forgive the kind of violence that Seimei perpetrated on Soubi and accuses Soubi of being a “total fool.” Ritsuka responds by calling himself a fool as well. “You’re a fool and a masochist, Soubi, so you’re happy no matter what’s done to you! And Seimei is a sadist, so he can do anything to you, right? And I’m a fool for sticking my nose into this, aren’t I?” Then he thinks to himself, “But… I can’t let go of anybody’s hand.”

His response is very much in character, in that it’s yet another admission that he’s afraid to let go of anyone he loves (and who might love him), but it’s what he does afterwards that I find the most telling. He turns to Soubi and starts buttoning up his shirt so that he won’t catch a cold. For all he’s been through and how much he’s found to be scared of, more and more as the series goes on, his instinct is to become the grownup and take care of other people. (His speech to Soubi late in volume eleven takes this even one step further, but I expect we’ll come back to that later on.) Partly I think he has found, time and again, that he can’t trust adults to take care of themselves, let alone him, but also I think he’s desperately trying to hold things (and people) together on his own, every little bit that he can, lest he lose one more thing.

(read right-to-left)

MICHELLE: I really love the imagery of the “I can’t let go of anyone’s hand” moment, too. Another thing that strikes me about that shirt-buttoning scene is what Ritsuka says during it: “Y’know… I could never do anything like that for you.” Even though he finds violence abhorrent, it’s still his instinct to give Soubi what he needs/craves, and it saddens him that this is something that he simply cannot do.

MJ: Yes, yes! The fact that he words it that way, “for you” rather than “to you” (which is surely the way Kio sees it) acknowledges its importance to Soubi, and makes it clear that, even if Ritsuka can’t quite understand why Soubi would want something like that, he understands that he shouldn’t just dismiss Soubi’s feelings about it. It’s really touching, actually.

MICHELLE: Another scene that really stands out for me happens in volume five. It’s late at night and Nisei has tipped Misaki off that Ritsuka is not at home—he’s at Soubi’s house using the video-game interface to get information on Septimal Moon—and when Ritsuka finally shows up, she tries to contain herself but cannot. The ensuing abuse is incredibly disturbing, and I’m fascinated by Soubi’s reaction to it and his realization about Ritsuka. “Ritsuka is the way he is because of his mother. Ritsuka is searching for someone to love. He wants to find that person so badly. And when he thinks he’s found them, he gives them his all. But that kind of unwavering trust that won’t budge a millimeter… that in itself is madness.”

I think it’s important to note here that Soubi—his own acceptance of Seimei’s violent tendencies aside—knows that the face Seimei showed Ritsuka was not his true one, but isn’t going to be the one to shatter his illusion.

MJ: There’s something else that connects these two scenes, actually, and I never would have noticed it had we not discussed them together! I just realized that in the scene you mention in volume five, it’s Soubi who is taking care of Ritsuka, giving him his coat so that he won’t get cold. And it’s somewhere in between these two scenes—I think probably at the point in which Soubi discovers that Seimei is alive and his world gets shattered—Ritsuka becomes the adult and Soubi the child. When I think about it, that’s the turning point. Everything between them is different after that.

MICHELLE: I think you’re right! I think that’s when Ritsuka—and the reader—realizes how much power he truly has over Soubi. I must admit I now have geekbumps because YOU HAVE FOUND THE CRUX OF LOVELESS.

MJ: Hee! Well, it may be too early to identify it as the crux of the whole series, but I feel excited by the discovery all the same. I admit that I was surprised to read Sarah Ash’s feelings about Ritsuka’s shifting character, because to me he’s grown up drastically in the past few volumes. And it really does all start just at the moment that Soubi falls apart. As many times as I read it, I’m still blown away by that scene in volume six when Soubi arrives at Ritsuka’s house, broken to pieces and begging Ritsuka to run away with him. It’s the last page of chapter four where it happens. Ritsuka, stunned by Soubi’s sudden earnestness thinks, “If you’re serious… then… I’ll be serious too.” And suddenly he’s the grownup. I mean, he still has his moments of childishness and uncertainty here and there, but that’s really when he takes charge, and we see this build all the way through volume eleven, up to the point when Seimei takes the opportunity to crush him.

And really, that’s significant to me, too. Even after Seimei’s return, he’s held it together pretty well, still taking care of Soubi (that one of the first things he asks Seimei when he confronts him is “Why are you scaring Soubi?” is, to me, indescribably touching). But you know how, no matter how grownup and independent you become, it can be almost impossible not to regress in the company of your family? For instance, I’m senior management at my job, but when my parents come to visit the office, I find myself struggling to maintain that “in charge” version of myself in front of them. It’s so hard not to become the child again in those circumstances. I realize we don’t yet fully understand Seimei’s motivation for destroying Ritsuka, but I almost feel like his part of his objective in volume eleven is to show Ritsuka that he’s still the little brother–as helpless and dependant as ever–and that even growing up is something he can’t do without his older brother’s permission.

MICHELLE: That scene where Soubi arrives and shows Ritsuka his emotional pain reminds me of an earlier time when a wounded Soubi turned up at Ritsuka’s window, but then wondered why he came and decided to go away again and spare Ritsuka the sight of his injury. Now they’re so close that he can show Ritsuka, if not the full truth of what’s happened at least some sign of his despair.

Another moment that really sticks out for me the most in the post-Seimei aftermath is when Ritsuka shows up at Soubi’s place to cook him an omelet. He wants to do something to cheer him, and he’s twelve so he can’t do much, but he can make an omelet with an inspirational ketchup message on it! I like that it was a sort of grown-up thought to be having, but an age-appropriate execution.

MJ: What a wonderful way of putting it, Michelle! A “grown-up thought to be having, but an age-appropriate execution” is exactly right, and that’s the kind of thing Yun Kouga does really well, too. Even as she’s having Ritsuka take on the adult role with Soubi, it’s not like she turns him into an adult. In fact, ruminating on the ideas of “adult” vs “child” is a major theme in this series, and I love all the ways in which she explores that topic.

I’ve already gone on and on about how brilliant I think the whole cat ears thing is—how she uses a common (and fairly silly) manga trope to both comment on our society’s obsession with the significance (and ramifications of) losing one’s virginity, while also providing silent notes on all her characters—but she’s got a lot of things to say which reveal themselves in other ways.

There are a few scenes in particular that spring immediately to mind, two of which are in volume eleven. First, I thought of Ritsuka’s conversation with Yuiko early on (I adore Yuiko, by the way, in case I haven’t mentioned that). He’s trying to figure out what to do or even think about his brother, the sociopath—something no kid his age should be having to figure out—and though Yuiko has no idea what’s going on, she’s trying to help. Twice in that conversation she mentions the fact that they’re just kids, and that this means that they can do what they want. “Even if we make mistakes, it’s okay because we’re kids!”

And of course, that’s the whole problem. Ritsuka’s just a kid, but he’s being put in this position where his mistakes might have truly dire consequences, both for him and for others. Meanwhile, it’s the adults in the story who are acting like kids—allowing their own issues to get in the way of being the grownups, even when they’re dealing with children. (Maybe even especially when they’re dealing with children?)

“Lately, I’ve met a lot more adults,” Ritsuka tells his psychiatrist, just a few scenes later, “And I think adults are actually pretty childish.”

Well said, Ritsuka. Well said.

MICHELLE: The way adults interact with children seems to be something Kouga is particularly interested in. Earlier this week, I read your post about Crown of Love, and was struck by the dialogue “If you think I can’t lie to you when you look me right in the eyes… then you really are just a kid. If you think adults are always nice to children, you’re making a big mistake.” And then in volume nine of Loveless you’ve got Nagisa saying that Ritsuka “understands all too well that adults are not always kind to children.” That’s a neat insight into how Kouga views the comparative maturity of these two characters.

And, I note, I love Yuiko, too!

MJ: But, true to form, even while acknowledging that adults often fail to act as adults and are often unkind to children, she doesn’t straightforwardly vilify them for it. She has a way of writing a character from the point of view of “Wow, you fucked up,” without just abandoning them, much as Ritsuka doesn’t abandon those who have failed him, for better or worse. Meanwhile, she lets the kids show us how it’s done, without making them into perfect saints either.

One of my favorite scenes, post-Seimei, comes immediately after his escape from Seven Moons Academy—an escape ultimately facilitated by Soubi, who is unable to refuse Seimei’s order to essentially break him out. There’s a lot packed into that event, as it’s when both Ritsuka and we are confronted with the true power of Seimei’s bond with Soubi, and the extent to which their shared name, “Beloved,” is able to maintain that bond, even against Soubi’s will. Soubi is devastated by his own betrayal of Ritsuka, and reverts into what Ritsuka calls “toddler mode,” and though Ritsuka is not completely sure how he’s supposed to handle it, handle it he does, basically by ordering Soubi to get over it and go to sleep. Ritsuka’s grumpy and tired, and not as nice as he might like to be, but he’s still taking care of Soubi and keeping him close, rather than letting Soubi distance himself or wallow in his own regret.

MICHELLE: I like that scene, too, ‘cos it’s like Soubi—having been compelled to obey Seimei—is repeating the refusal (“don’t want to”) that he wishes he could have made. And, of course, with Ritsuka he would’ve been allowed to make such a rejoinder without repercussions, but when he rejoins Seimei in volume eleven he’s ordered not to speak until given permission. “I don’t want to hear your voice.” Soubi would be so much happier if he could serve only Ritsuka.

(read right-to-left)

I wonder… is the bond really a thing that’s compelling him, like supernaturally, or is it just Soubi’s internalization of the bond that renders him incapable of disobeying? And, actually, I wonder why this Fighter/Sacrifice system exists at all, especially with the academy. Why was it established? Surely not for the purpose of all this infighting! Is there a greater threat out there to which we’ve not even been introduced?

MJ: There’s definitely a lot we haven’t been told yet, including the entire purpose of Seven Moons Academy and Septimal Moon, and I think whenever we finally find that out, we may understand a lot more about the bond between fighters and sacrifices. But I feel like there are a few scenes that have been intended to let us know that the name itself is a powerful supernatural bond that can’t be broken, especially when the fighter is a “blank” as Soubi is—or certainly Soubi’s been made to believe that this is the case. He’s told repeatedly by both Ritsu, who trained (and abused) him and Seimei who claimed (and abused) him that it’s impossible for him to betray his sacrifice once he’s been marked with his name. That said, I specifically pointed out that both have abused him (both physically, emotionally, and in Ritsu’s case, sexually), because it certainly seems possible that, between them, they’ve brainwashed Soubi into believing something that’s not actually true.

I wonder, though… one of the things I found most heartbreaking about Soubi breaking the window for Seimei to escape, is that I got the impression in the previous volume that Soubi thought it might be possible, if Ritsuka truly wanted him and accepted him as his fighter, that he could actually become his fighter. He’s been told that a blank’s ownership is absolute (yet non-exclusive for the sacrifice, how cruel is that?) but the later flashback to Soubi’s first meeting with Seimei, in which Seimei describes his marking of Soubi as allowing him to be “reborn” as his property, makes me wonder if Soubi though it just might be possible to reborn once more, if only Ritsuka would fully accept him. And I wonder if he is pleading, hoping for the same thing later in the graveyard in volume eleven.

MICHELLE: I got that impression, as well. Soubi wants their bond to be real. I’m not sure Ritsuka fully grasps that, though, because as Soubi is walking away, he thinks, “In the end… all those times… Soubi only ever listened to me as an indulgence.” Perhaps he thinks he was being pitied or humored by Soubi when the latter would “consent to obey” him, but it wasn’t really like that for Soubi.

(read right-to-left)

MJ: I think that’s what I found most painful about that whole sequence of events, actually. I mean, what happens is obviously heartbreaking, with Seimei cruelly taking Soubi from Ritsuka, as if Ritsuka hasn’t lost enough already. But even more awful, in my opinion, is Ritsuka’s misunderstanding of Soubi’s feelings on the matter. That’s what ultimately broke me, and it really did break me, to an extent from which I’ve yet to recover. The fact that this misunderstanding seems to have been Seimei’s intent? I just… wow. He actually waits to remove Soubi from Ritsuka just at the moment when it would hurt Ritsuka the most. And Soubi.

I realize his true objective must be larger than this;there’s no reason for him to need to hurt Soubi, for instance, for whom he feels nothing, unless it serves some other purpose to do so, which means it has to be Ritsuka he’s really trying to hurt. But why? Is it related to the memory loss? Is he trying to punish Ritsuka for something? Is he trying to break him down in order to control him as well? Or is it even bigger than that?

Time will tell, I realize, but in the meantime, I mostly just want to kill Seimei. Possibly with my own bare hands.

MICHELLE: He’s the one that put them together in the first place, with orders for Soubi to love Ritsuka, so he is obviously enjoying getting them to really care about each other and then ripping them apart. Somehow I get the feeling he’s trying to trigger something in Ritsuka. I don’t know. But it’s almost like… Seimei did something that got Ritsuka to the person he is now, and now he’s trying to make him into something else that he can use. I thought it was interesting to see that Seimei’s actually been creepy from day one, as his first thought upon seeing his baby brother was that his mother had created Ritsuka expressly for him.

MJ: Heh, yes. Though, it’s so difficult to figure out what Seimei actually enjoys. I mean, it certainly seems like he must enjoy hurting people. Yet he’s so cold about it all.

There are a number of other fighter/sacrifice pairs introduced over these later volumes, and we’ve barely talked about them at all; I’ll the first to admit that I’m too focused on the major players right now to give them the attention they deserve. One of the darker stories, however, comes from Mikado, another sacrifice who felt a kinship with Seimei when they were both training, because of their shared inability to comprehend emotion. Mikado describes them both as “empty inside,” which absolutely jives with what we’ve seen in Seimei. And when Seimei orders his fighter, Nisei, to rape her and cut off her hair, she’s horrified, less by the act itself, and more by the fact that, from her perspective, Seimei broke their “code,” by doing it (in his words) for “no particular reason.” So is it really that he enjoys hurting people? I’d say that’s absolutely true of Nisei, who revels in watching Ritsuka cry. But what’s the deal with Seimei?

MICHELLE: I found the Mikado reveal very shocking. I mean, yes, Seimei has definitely killed at least one person (the guy whose body was used as a Seimei stand-in) and slashed a couple characters with his knife, not to mention inflicting all sorts of mental and emotional anguish, but this just seemed exceptionally horrible, even for him. Ritsuka is sure Soubi would never do such a thing, but if commanded by Seimei… I am not so sure, and that kind of makes me feel ill. I would hope Soubi could break the spell, either literally or figuratively, if it came to that.

This incident did put something else in perspective, storytelling-wise. After the major Seimei drama goes down at the end of volume eight, it’s as if the story takes a step back from the precipice. Our characters go back to their lives, Ritsuka goes back to school, where Youji and Natsuo enroll and act like brats. One starts to wonder where the story’s momentum has gone. But in the midst of that there was a story about Yuiko being bullied and when Ritsuka confronts the girls, they admit they have no reasons for their actions. He’s angry at them, and yet, here is Seimei giving the same answer. What’s it going to take for Ritsuka to stop feeling like he’s “on Seimei’s side” in all this?

MJ: That’s a very good question, and… yes. “Yes” to everything you’ve said here. I find myself wondering if Seimei is escalating his most gruesome behavior almost to see how far he can go. How far can he push his fighter? Are there limits to his control? Or maybe even, is there anything he can do that’s awful enough to make him feel regret? What are his own limits?

I admit I kind of don’t even want to think about how far Soubi would go if commanded by Seimei. I love Soubi too much to handle it. Yet, I suspect Kouga will confront me with it sooner or later, anyway. Probably sooner. She’s never been afraid to push her readers into uncomfortable places, of course, which is one of the things I love best about her.

Speaking of which, this is a bit of a shift in topic here, but wow does she push at my boundaries with Ritsuka and Soubi’s relationship. We see this again in volume eleven, when Ritsuka is ordering Soubi to “take action” in a way that looks very much like physical action, because Soubi never believes his words. Obviously, we don’t actually see anything truly inappropriate take place, and she’s been really careful to draw a line there, but it’s absolutely uncomfortable. And part of why it’s uncomfortable is that she makes clear all along that it’s problematic, though we can’t help rooting for them as… something. Something close, but not that close.

(read right-to-left)

MICHELLE: I honestly don’t know how I feel about that aspect of their relationship. I feel like it’s going to end up getting physical eventually, but probably not before Ritsuka grows up. (Soubi, perhaps, not wishing to do what was done to him?) And that it will be because of who they are and not what their roles are. Like, Soubi has suggested that he’d want to be “taken” in that scenario, which I don’t interpret simply as being the uke, but just in terms of “the ball is in your court, whenever you want me I am here.” But it’d be better if Soubi wanted it because Ritsuka is Ritsuka and not just his master.

Does any of this make sense? It’s a bit rambly.

MJ: It does make sense, and I guess I’m there with you. I mean, I can’t help wanting to see them together for the long term, I just don’t know what that really means, or if it’s in the cards. I mean, out of all the mess, Kouga does seem to like giving her characters happy romantic endings of some kind. And there’s no denying that Ritsuka and Soubi’s relationship feels… well, kinda romantic—for the reader, at least. I admit I’ve occasionally wondered if part of the purpose of the cat ears is to constantly reassure us that Ritsuka is still a child, at least in the Loveless universe’s sense of the word.

On a somewhat related note, I find it particularly ironic that Soubi doesn’t trust Ritsuka’s words in a story that is largely about the power of words. All the teams’ battles are fought with words, Seimei’s greatest weapon during his initial confrontation with Ritsuka is the power of his words (and the possibility that he’ll force Ritsuka to use words to somehow subjugate himself). And Ritsuka has this fantastic revelation in volume nine about words and how important they are. Yet Soubi doesn’t believe a single thing he says, at least not as far as his own worth to Ritsuka goes.

MICHELLE: At first, I found the spell battles kind of silly, but they’re actually depicted rather well, with Kouga showing some subtle differences between fighters at different levels of skill. And even the sacrifices are able to impact the battle by imparting words of encouragement upon their fighters.

About Soubi, he probably just can’t believe that someone would tell the truth to him when they weren’t forced to do so, given all the abuse and manipulation he’s endured.

MJ: I agree, I’ve found the spell battles to ultimately be pretty spectacular, not just because they’re extremely well-drawn (they really, really are), but because they’ve offered us both numerous character notes for our leads (and supporting characters, of course) and what feels like a rather fresh take on the idea of the power of words, which is a pretty common theme in manga. I admit that I’ve always been fascinated with stories that include variations on kotodama, and this feels like a modern take on the concept.

MICHELLE: This is a somewhat out-of-the-blue topic shift, but before we conclude I want to make sure to talk at least a little about Yuiko and Kio, who are the closest friends of Ritsuka and Soubi, respectively. We’re privy to Yuiko and Ritsuka’s meeting in volume one, during which she’s persistent and he thinks she’s a ditz, but it’s not until volume nine, during which Kio is being held hostage by Seimei’s group, that we learn that he and Soubi actually became friends under very similar circumstances.

Both characters keep our leads grounded in the world and support them with positive attitudes, which is why hints that they may be involved on a deeper level are kind of.. troubling. There’s a rather random reveal in volume ten regarding Kio, for example, and I also can’t help wondering whether upbeat Yuiko could possibly be the real Loveless fighter. After all, Youji tells Ritsuka that it’s someone he’s probably already met, while Yuiko notes in volume six that, “When I’m with Ritsuka I feel my best… He makes me feel like I can do anything.”

I should clarify that I don’t mean “troubling” in the sense that these characters aren’t absolutely genuine, because I believe they are. But I would like to keep them out of harm’s way, especially Yuiko, who seems to be leading a relatively happy and normal life.

MJ: I’ll admit that, deep down, I’d prefer that Yuiko remain the grounded, non-supernatural friend she is to Ritsuka now, because I think she’s really good for him like that (and of course, she’s a lot safer out of the fray), but I’m not sure what the chances are, since we’ve had this rather stunning reveal regarding Kio’s secret life. I really like both characters, though, and I appreciate the fact that they are, in their individual ways, true, devoted friends, even if they can’t completely understand what Ritsuka or Soubi are really about. I’m also glad that both Ritsuka and Soubi have come to value their friends, despite their initial resistance.

I’m not completely sold on Kio’s odd backstory at this point—I rather liked his place in Soubi’s life as it was—but I’m willing to trust that Kouga will win me over to it.

Is it terrible that I harbor an unfounded hope that the name “Loveless” might appear on Soubi, instead of… well, anyone else? I know that, as a blank, that’s supposed to be impossible. But I can’t help wishing it could be true.

MICHELLE: I wish for it, too. And the fact that Ritsuka’s name has yet to appear on his body gives me at least some hope that something special is going to happen for this particular pair.

MJ: Of course, it will be a long time before any of our questions or hopes are answered, and after having the opportunity to essentially marathon this series on our first read, I suspect the wait for volume twelve will be difficult to bear. But I’m so very glad that Viz provided us the opportunity to give this series a real chance. It has won my heart completely.

MICHELLE: And mine!

All images © Yun Kouga. Original Japanese edition published by ICHIJINSHA, INC., Tokyo. English translation rights arranged with ICHIJINSHA, INC., Tokyo. Published by VIZ Media, LLC.

To submit your contributions to the Yun Kouga MMF for inclusion in this month’s archive, please send your links by email to mj@mangabookshelf.com or via Twitter to @mjbeasi between now and Saturday, July 20th. If you would like your contribution(s) to be hosted at Manga Bookshelf, please email them to MJ, along with any included images. Contributions to the Yun Kouga MMF will be archived here.

3 Things Thursday: Kouga’s Women

July 18, 2013 by MJ 3 Comments

If you’ve been a reader of this blog for any significant amount of time, you’ll know that I gravitate towards female writers—a tendency I wasn’t even fully aware of myself until the moment I realized that nearly all of the series that made my personal top ten list a couple of years ago had been written by women. Fortunately, this preference tends to offer me a fairly spectacular array of terrific female characters to meet and fall in love with, and I’ll be grateful to the Japanese comics industry forever for nurturing the talent of so many incredible female artists and publishing them in such volume.

Unfortunately, there is one female-dominated manga genre in which female characters are drastically under-utilized (and often vilified), and that would be boys’ love. And yes, I do realize that a love story in which both members of the primary romance are male will inevitably have male characters at its center, and that there isn’t often room in the romantic universe of two for anyone else of significance. Still, I admit I long to see relatable female characters as essential parts of any story, and I tend to hold BL authors who agree in the highest regard.

The male-centric sensibility often applies to shoujo manga as well—particularly those penned by creators who enjoy a strong undercurrent of BL subtext in their work, and this absolutely describes Yun Kouga. After all, even Gestalt‘s kick-ass heroine, Ouri, is actually a man temporarily endowed with a female form. Still, Kouga-sensei does not let me down! Female characters are always part of the fabric of her stories, even the most BL-rific of her worlds. For today’s 3 Things Thursday, I’ll look at three of these!

3 favorite female characters in the worlds of Yun Kouga:

1. Gestalt: Suzu – Ouri is a scene-stealing character from Gestalt‘s start to its finish, but I admit that my true heart belongs to dark elf Suzu, who begins as an antagonist, sent by the church to capture and return Father Olivier, and slowly but surely becomes part of our heroes’ party. Though she’s a character who is slow to open up, even to the reader, this scene in volume three in which she finds the courage to battle her sisters, by whom she’s been made to feel inadequate for pretty much her entire life, really begins to reveal who Suzu is. And that Suzu is awesome.

2. Earthian: Elvira – Though Earthian‘s romantic drama revolves largely around its primary couple—partnered angels Chihaya and Kagetsuya—a major key to its larger plot is human/angel hybrid Elvira, daughter of the fallen angel Seraphim, who fell in love with a human woman. Her role is complicated in many ways, but it’s her persistence that brings to light the angels’ true plans for the Earthian. She’s smart, angry, manipulative when she needs to be, and I can’t get enough of her.

3. Loveless: Yamato & Kouya – It may seem like I’m cheating by choosing these two characters together, but together is the way they belong, and they’re willing to risk life as they know it to ensure that it’s how they’ll remain. The story of this “Zero” team is one of my favorites in Loveless‘ early volumes, and I particularly love the way that Kouga-sensei references and then rejects the trope sometimes known as “Bury Your Gays” by setting these two up to sacrifice themselves for the sake of their love, and then turning that completely on its head. Also, they just kick ass.

Do you have favorite female characters created by Yun Kouga? Share them here!

Yun Kouga MMF: Link Roundup 1

July 17, 2013 by MJ Leave a Comment

ritsuka The Yun Kouga Manga Moveable Feast is underway! Things have begun slowly, but here’s a quick rundown of contributions to the Feast so far:

I kicked things off on Sunday with an Introduction to Yun Kouga, including descriptions of all her series currently available in English and an ode to her gorgeously messy characterization and her insights into the human heart.

But if she leaves us unable to deny our darker impulses, she at least doesn’t leave us alone. There’s a sense, always, that Kouga loves her characters fully and without conditions, even when they’re at their worst. We’re all ugly and beautiful in Yun Kouga’s world, and there’s nothing to do but to try to navigate the mess as best we can.

“Mess” is a key word here, and though Kouga-sensei’s artwork is a consistent highlight—genuinely gorgeous and a real treat to behold—one might say that her greatest talent is in making a mess. She writes messy characters in messy relationships, and if these are often accompanied by some messy plotting as well, perhaps that’s an unavoidable side-effect.

Also at Manga Bookshelf, guest contributor Sarah Ash gets some frustrations off her chest in A Letter to Yun Kouga:

Before the handsome new Viz volumes came out (and they are very handsome) I had resigned myself to never seeing a conclusion to Loveless. I had decided to appreciate the plus points and try to forget the minuses. I was ready to admire again the accurate way that you depict children on the verge of adolescence (and their teachers!) capturing the cruelty and the intensity of their interactions. Your damaged adults are just as fascinating: Soubi grimly painting the butterflies he says he hates so much because they’re stupid enough to let themselves be caught and killed. Shinonome-sensei breaking down in tears in class when one of her class answers back, unwittingly using the same words Soubi has used to reject her.

My frustration as a reader stems, I guess, from the fact that there was – is – such potential in Loveless that I can’t bear to see it being frittered away.

At his blog, Manga Energy, Aaron takes this opportunity to complain about Loveless and The Modern Misappropriation of Moé:

… with all of this being said it’s not so much Loveless as a series I’d like to write about. More an aspect of it’s fandom in particular the use of the term Moé by some fans to the discussion of Aoyagi as a charcter or his relationship with Soubi in particular, as I feel it’s a term that gets misappropriated too often now in Otaku circles. Loveless is just one of many prominent examples I’ve seen where the term is used I feel with out a real grasp of the term it’s self.

And finally, back here at Manga Bookshelf, I delve into one of the primary themes of Kouga-sensei’s josei romance Crown of Love with Crown of Love: Hey Jealousy:

Where Crown of Love differs is in its execution, specifically in the fact that it portrays its hero’s obsession as genuinely problematic, rather than romantic or cute. It is also completely up-front about the painful and unsatisfactory nature of unrequited love (and unbalanced relationships of all kinds). And though it is technically a love story, it could also be described as a story primarily about jealousy. And wow does Yun Kouga get jealousy.

A full list of the Feast’s contributions (updated as they come) can be found in the Yun Kouga Archive, with lists of older articles to browse through as well. More to come as the week continues!

Guest Contribution: A Letter to Yun Kouga

July 15, 2013 by Sarah Ash 4 Comments

A Letter to Yun Kouga (written with love, respect, and bafflement.)

Dear Kouga-sensei,

Way back in 2006, I reviewed the first volume of your new series Loveless:

Seimei, Aoyagi Ritsuka’s older brother, has been murdered. Ritsuka, who has been suffering from amnesia for two years, is left to live with his abusive and disturbed mother who keeps demanding that he return the ‘real’ Ritsuka to her. Loveless, by Yun Kouga, is a twisted tale of loss, awakening desire, and magic. In this alternate version of our own present, children are born with cat’s ears and tails which disappear when they lose their virginity. (Ritsuka’s teacher, Shinonome-sensei, still has her ears and tail, which causes some comment in the school corridors.)

On the first day at his new school, the aloof and prickly Ritsuka is adopted by Yuiko, a sweet but needy latch-key child, tall and well-developed for her age, who constantly refers to herself in the third person. Yuiko may seem a bit of an airhead but she is quick to notice that Ritsuka is skilled at presenting a cheerful front to the teachers. ‘Sorry. I just can’t stand when people worry about me,’ he tells her to which she says, ‘You’re weird. Like you live a double life.’

On leaving school, Ritsuka is met by a good-looking stranger who introduces himself as Soubi – and tells Ritsuka that he was Seimei’s friend. Ritsuka instantly demands that Soubi go with him to ‘make some memories’ and proceeds to take photographs. ‘We have to take pictures or you’ll forget all about me.’ When they are alone together in the park, Soubi begins to behave very strangely and having assured Ritsuka that he won’t do anything to him, kisses him. Now Ritsuka finds himself bound to Soubi in an intense and dangerous world of spell battles against Septimal Moon, the mysterious organisation that killed his brother.

Yun Kouga reveals this perverse and compelling tale through her beautiful and evocative artwork; two colour pages are a bonus, further demonstrating her range as an artist. If any readers feel uncomfortable with the underlying implications of this work, especially the developing relationship between the student Soubi and twelve-year-old Ritsuka, they should first read the fascinating epilogue by adaptor Christine Boylan, ‘Words as Spells in Loveless.’ The first volume leaves the reader desperately eager to unravel the mysteries surrounding Ritsuka; will he and Soubi track down Seimei’s killers? What happened to Ritsuka two years ago? Can Soubi be trusted? Excellent, distinctive artwork conveying a compelling piece of fantasy story-telling: Loveless is manga at its best. Volume 2 is promised in June…

Obviously, I was smitten. Love at first sight! And I continued to follow Loveless faithfully through the anime adaptation as well as the subsequent volumes of the manga. But something has gone wrong. Here we are, ten+ years on, and, Sensei, you’re still – sporadically – producing chapters of Loveless. In the meantime, you’ve done the character designs for two major anime: Gundam Mobile Suit 00 and Un Go. You’re also working on another ongoing shoujo series Blood High School which is now being turned into an anime. Great! I don’t blame you, Sensei, for working on several projects at once; it’s a tough old world out there and mangaka, like other authors, have to seize every opportunity that comes along.

So what’s so compelling about Loveless? The art, for starters. No other mangaka can draw eyes quite as eloquently as you, Kouga-sensei. Your gorgeous colour pages are an added bonus. Storywise, you deliver a dark and disturbing tale that – in those early volumes – resonates with passionate and forbidden feelings. Yet you also have a gift for delightfully quirky yet believable character interactions; for example, any time Natsuo and Youji (the Zero boys) show up, their outrageously unconventional and unpredictable approach to life always enlivens the action. Then there are the spell battles, the intriguing concept of ‘fated partners’ and the mysterious Fighters and their Sacrifices. You’re not afraid to deal with serious issues either: child abuse; obsession; identity. I could – maybe should – devote paragraphs to the shota conundrum: is Soubi’s relationship with Ritsuka inappropriate? Nothing is ever that straightforward in your work; we learn that Soubi was an abused child and, even though he may be an adult in years, Ritsuka is often depicted as the more mature of the two. And even though you tease us with suggestively Boys’ Love situations (and you obviously have fun doing it!) the complex web of feelings that binds Soubi and Ritsuka together can’t be so easily labelled and packaged; you’re too subtle and original a writer to resort to clichés.

But when it comes to the questions that you set up to tantalize us in the first volume, alas, very little has been answered. In fact, everything about the way your manga has (slowly) been evolving suggests a haphazard, scattershot approach. As more plot tendrils are introduced and go merrily shooting off in all kinds of random directions, the strong story at the heart begins to fade and die. Too many new teams of fighters ending in ‘less’ (all with emotional baggage and back-stories) resulting in ‘I could care…less.’

I find myself faced with a fundamental issue about the function of plot, or story, if you will, that crops up time and again in manga. Even though many eminent nineteenth century European novelists like Dickens and Dumas also produced their work as serials, in regular instalments, they usually brought their novels to a satisfying conclusion, and resolved the conflicts and mysteries they had set up to hook their readers in. But the mangaka working for a monthly magazine like Zero Sum can go on indefinitely – or so it seems – with no other impetus than to produce yet another chapter to advance the story, but not to resolve it. For a reader, though, this eventually becomes a turn-off; the everyday interactions between Yuiko, Yayoi, and Ritsuka that once seemed both cute and pertinent (such as the discussion on what they’ll do when they grow up in Chapter 5 of #6) now seem like pointless filler (‘A Guppy’s Observation Log’ in #11.)

Some of the basic questions that you really need to answer are:

Assuming that the Loveless name will appear somewhere soon on Ritsuka’s body (as it should according to the rules set out in the story) – who is the other Loveless fighter?
What was Ritsu’s connection with Soubi’s mother? (And if it isn’t relevant, why was it so strongly flagged?)
What’s going on with Kio and his (twin?) sister?
Why did Ritsuka lose his memory two years ago? What will happen when/if he gets it back?
Where is Aoyagi père? And the social services? (Ok, wipe that last question, even if it’s set in the present, it’s an alternative fantasy present…)
Who is Madam Chiyako? Is she connected with Septimal Moon?
What is Septimal Moon and why do they hold spell battles?
And… why does Ritsuka look younger in recent volumes than in the earlier ones? It’s as if, Kouga- sensei, you’ve unconsciously altered the way you portray him; surely he should be showing signs of growing older by now? Does time pass differently in this world of cats’ ears and tails? He also seems to be behaving in a much younger way; the sullen, strong, angry Ritsuka (skilled at concealing his vulnerability) that we met in the earlier volumes is now depicted as a much more passive, dependent child. I wondered if this might be because you wanted to show Ritsuka at a loss when he learns the truth about Seimei… Or is this the ‘old’ Ritsuka who ‘disappeared’ two years earlier? If so, it needs flagging more clearly, so that the reader can reflect on what might have precipitated this change.

I’d love to hope that you will answer these questions – and many more – when you bring Loveless to a conclusion. But I suspect that – as your attentions are diverted elsewhere again – the once urgent need to resolve Ritsuka’s tale has faded. The intensity of those early volumes has just…melted away. This may well be because the anime version created a resolution (of sorts) based on the material you had produced at that time and now you’ve simply moved on and lost interest in working with these characters. (sob)

Is the much-desired commissioning of a TV anime series the kiss of death? The pages of Zero Sum have spawned several anime other than Loveless: 07-Ghost, Karneval, Amatsuki, and now Makai Ouji; Devils and Realist. Smaller in scale than ongoing shounen sagas like Naruto, the makers of these TV series have to devise an ending even when the mangaka is nowhere near reaching a conclusion. I can’t help wondering whether – once the anime series is done – somehow the material doesn’t seem like the mangaka’s ‘own’ work anymore and she/he loses some of the creative impetus to finish it (because someone else has already ‘finished’ it for them.)

Before the handsome new Viz volumes came out (and they are very handsome) I had resigned myself to never seeing a conclusion to Loveless. I had decided to appreciate the plus points and try to forget the minuses. I was ready to admire again the accurate way that you depict children on the verge of adolescence (and their teachers!) capturing the cruelty and the intensity of their interactions. Your damaged adults are just as fascinating: Soubi grimly painting the butterflies he says he hates so much because they’re stupid enough to let themselves be caught and killed. Shinonome-sensei breaking down in tears in class when one of her class answers back, unwittingly using the same words Soubi has used to reject her.

My frustration as a reader stems, I guess, from the fact that there was – is – such potential in Loveless that I can’t bear to see it being frittered away. It could have been so good. But by Volumes 10 and 11, the vital spark seems to have faded and that compelling intensity seems to have been significantly diluted. Such a shame…because Loveless is special to me. Different. Perhaps my suspicions are unfounded. Perhaps you will answer all those questions of mine (and many more.) You would make your readers all over the world so very happy!

Sarah (AnimeUKNews reviewer) www.animeuknews.net

MMF: Introduction to Yun Kouga

July 14, 2013 by MJ 6 Comments

“I wonder, does that make me a pervert?”

When one of Gestalt‘s dual protagonists, Ouri, asks this question in volume four, it’s impossible not to wonder if the series’ author is really talking about herself. And as a reader, it’s pretty difficult not to apply this to oneself as well, because if there is one thing Yun Kouga excels at, it is creating characters whom we will find surprisingly relatable and endlessly fascinating, even as we’re exploring the darkest corners of their hearts and minds.

And it’s not only her characters’ minds that Yun Kouga seems intent on exploring. Her awareness of and ability to express her characters’ darkest desires, simply and without apology, also serves as an exceptionally unflattering mirror for the reader. Her characters are so real and so human in both their complexity and their selfishness, it’s impossible to ignore the reality staring us in the face.

Those deep, dark thoughts you were sure nobody else shared? Those self-destructive urges you’ve (mostly) controlled all these years? That private fantasy you keep quietly to yourself? That thing you always do when you need to hide your real feelings? Yun Kouga’s got your number. And she’s got no mercy.

“I keep thinking of all these different things I want to do with you. Like this… and that… But that’s okay, right? As long as I’m just thinking about it, it’s not wrong. I haven’t done anything yet.”

– Hisayoshi Tajima, Crown of Love

While undeniably attractive, super-confident teen stalker Hisayoshi is carrying on this conversation with himself, we’re thinking, “God, he’s creepy!” and then, “Well… I guess it’s not wrong just to think about things…” and finally, “I had almost that exact thought that time when… oh, fuck.”

And there she leaves us. Yun Kouga just leaves us like that, permanently, irretrievably stuck with the cognitive dissonance and muddy morality that simply is grown-up human life—no excuses, no justifications. It’s not pretty, but it’s effective, and I find myself thinking about a Yun Kouga manga (and the emotional chaos it brings along with it) long after I’ve finished reading.

But if she leaves us unable to deny our darker impulses, she at least doesn’t leave us alone. There’s a sense, always, that Kouga loves her characters fully and without conditions, even when they’re at their worst. We’re all ugly and beautiful in Yun Kouga’s world, and there’s nothing to do but to try to navigate the mess as best we can.

“Mess” is a key word here, and though Kouga-sensei’s artwork is a consistent highlight—genuinely gorgeous and a real treat to behold—one might say that her greatest talent is in making a mess. She writes messy characters in messy relationships, and if these are often accompanied by some messy plotting as well, perhaps that’s an unavoidable side-effect.

Not that the messiness is wholly unintentional, or even close.

“I forgive you, Seimei!” and “I’m mad at you, Seimei!” young Ritsuka shouts in the same panel in volume 8 of Loveless.

We may not quite be with him (at least on the first bit), but we surely understand, because we’ve been there and back, over and over again, about someone (everyone?), most likely in the same chapter, and definitely in the same story.

Kouga’s messiness extends not only to her characters and their relationships, but also to the way we feel about them as they draw us in. We love them, we hate them, we’re angry, we’re confused, we identify with them when we least want to, and all we can really count on is that it’ll all get significantly messier before the day is done.

Fortunately, “messier” is just the way I like it.

There’s a passion to Kouga’s messiness and to her willingness to jump head first into it all that reminds me less of the polished world of publishing and more of the best parts of fandom, where rabidly pulling apart characters and their motivations is largely the point. And though any speculation on my part about the influence of Kouga’s doujinshi roots would be simply that, it should be understood that, in my view, it’s a compliment that it even came to mind.

Unlike her characters, Kouga’s plotting generally begins with grand disorder and tidies itself up over time, especially in her earlier series, and wading through the initial flurry of chaos is, in my experience, always worthwhile.

Despite a rather hefty catalogue, ranging from RPG-style shounen fantasy, to josei romance, to boys’ love, and even to parts of the Gundam franchise, only four of Kouga’s series (and a single chapter in Dark Horse’s Neon Genesis Evangelion: Comic Tribute) have been published in English to date.

These series include Earthian (BLU/Digital Manga Publishing), Gestalt (Viz Media), Crown of Love (Viz Media), and Loveless (Viz Media).

Here’s a brief introduction to each:

Earthian
4 volumes, complete (BLU/Digital Manga Publishing)

From the pages of Shinshokan’s idiosyncratic shoujo magazine Wings, and originally translated in print for Tokyopop’s BL imprint, BLU, this tale of angels in crisis is the earliest of Yun Kouga’s works currently available in English. And available it is, despite BLU’s demise, thanks to digital re-licensing by Digital Manga Publishing, though only three volumes are available for sale at this time. It is also the only translated series of hers that I haven’t read.

I’ll be introducing myself to the series this week, and I’m counting on Yun Kouga’s special talents to win me over, despite the fact that David Welsh once credited it with awakening him to the fact that he “never needed to consume another piece of romantic fiction featuring an angel.” For a more favorable opinion, try Riyka’s Reviews.

Previews of the first three (DRM-free) volumes are available at eManga.

(click image to enlarge – images read right-to-left)

Earthian, Vol. 3 © Yun Kouga

Gestalt
8 volumes, complete (Viz Media)

Originally serialized in the pages of Square Enix’s female-friendly shounen magazine GFantasy and later distributed under Ichijinsha’s Zero Sum imprint, this quirky fantasy follows the adventures of roving priest Olivier and mysterious slave Ouri, as they quest to Gestalt, a remote island supposedly cursed by the gods.

From Gestalt, Vol. 2:
“Another charming element is the series’ complete and utter honesty about the fact that it is playing out an RPG. The straightforward announcement of each character’s race, skills, and magical level continues, and in this volume they even visit a local shop to purchase magically-enhanced weaponry. It really seems like this kind of structure should be tedious but it’s hard to be irritated when the author is so up-front about it, and with a story so light and breezy, how can one complain? Humor is key in this series and there is never a moment in which things are allowed to become serious enough to obscure that.”

(click image to enlarge – images read right-to-left)

Gestalt, Vol. 1 © Yun Kouga

Other articles at Manga Bookshelf:
Gestalt, Vol. 1
Fanservice Friday: A Girl’s (G)Fantasy, including Gestalt

Crown of Love
4 volumes, complete (Viz Media)

This josei series from Shueisha’s Comic Crimson (marketed as shoujo here in North America) follows the story of Hisayoshi, a rising teen idol who entered show business in order to become closer to Rima, a struggling idol he falls in love with at first sight. As he works to manipulate his circumstances and fights his jealousy over Rima’s crush on her (married) former manager, Rima fights hers over Hisayoshi’s seemingly effortless rise to stardom.

From Crown of Love, Vol. 2:
“This series’ hero, Hisayoshi, continues to be both intensely creepy and surprisingly relatable. It’s a combination guaranteed to make most readers uncomfortable, but it’s also one of the series’ greatest strengths. Watching Hisayoshi perilously straddle the line between crushing teenager and bona fide stalker quickly becomes a rather terrifying series of ‘There, but for the grace of God,’ moments for anyone who has experienced unrequited love (in other words, roughly everyone). His inner thoughts echo the kind of late-night self-confessions that rarely see the light of day, tucked firmly away in those dark, hidden corners where shame and denial conveniently coexist.”

(click image to enlarge – images read right-to-left)

Other articles at Manga Bookshelf:
Off the Shelf: Too Many Books, featuring Crown of Love, Vol. 4
Off the Shelf: Six for Six!, featuring Crown of Love, Vol. 3
Crown of Love, Vol. 1

Loveless
11 volumes, ongoing (Viz Media)

From the pages of Ichijinsha’s Comic Zero Sum, this supernatural fantasy revolves around 12-year-old Ritsuka, whose brother’s death sweeps him into a world of magical fighting teams who use the power of words to disable, injure, or even kill their opponents. Now bound to 21-year-old “fighter” Soubi, Ritsuka is determined to uncover the truth about his brother’s death.

From Fanservice Friday: Lovesick over Loveless:
“The truth is, Yun Kouga’s work (and Loveless in particular) hits so many of my personal storytelling kinks in so many instances, it would be prohibitively time-consuming to catalogue them all. But perhaps more significantly, she manages to address several of my usual turn-offs (and at least one known deal-breaker) in a way that makes them somehow palatable, even to me. As a result, my reaction to Loveless has begun to resemble nothing more than a kind of romantic longing, characterized by ever-wandering thoughts and a persistent love-struck haze. in short, I’m lovesick over Loveless. ”

(click image to enlarge – images read right-to-left)

Other articles at Manga Bookshelf:
My Week in Manga: Episode 6, featuring Loveless, Vols. 3-4
Off the Shelf: Off the Shelf: Loveless, Puzzles, Infernal Devices, featuring Loveless, Vols. 1-2

Obviously I’m a fan of Kouga’s work, and I’ll continue to talk about why as the week continues, but whether you’re a fan, an anti-fan, or somewhere in-between, all discussion is welcome at the Manga Moveable Feast!

Let the Feast begin!

Disclosure: MJ is currently under contract with Digital Manga Publishing’s Digital Manga Guild, as necessitated for her ongoing report Inside the DMG. Any compensation earned by MJin her role as an editor with the DMG will be donated to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund. Juné, 801 Media, DokiDoki and Digital Manga Guild are all imprints produced by Digital Manga Publishing or their parent company, Digital Manga, Inc.

Yun Kouga MMF: Call for Participation

July 1, 2013 by MJ Leave a Comment

Welcome to July 2013, and the newest installment of the Manga Moveable Feast, the manga blogging community’s ongoing conversation about the medium we all love. Each month, a single series, creator, or topic is chosen for a week-long discussion across the entire community.

This month’s feast will run from Sunday, July 14th through Saturday, the 20th, featuring the works of Yun Kouga, and hosted here at Manga Bookshelf.

Though Yun Kouga has enjoyed popular success here in North America, particularly with her BL-tinged shoujo fantasy, Loveless, her pretty-boy sensibilities and predilection for writing in stereotypically “trashy” genres have caused her rather spectacular talent with characterization to remain largely overlooked. Though Kouga’s works can feel messy and chaotic at the start, this messiness is essential to her characters and their relationships, each of which is rooted in a level of emotional truth rare in any kind of storytelling. I’ve often said that “there is no train wreck I love more than a Yun Kouga train wreck,” and I’m sure I’ll say it again. Her ability to explore her characters’ deeply human contradictions and, more to the point, her readers’ is second to none.

Yun Kouga’s works published in English include: Earthian (Tokyopop/Digital Manga Publishing), Loveless (Tokyopop/Viz Media), Gestalt (Viz Media), Crown of Love (Viz Media), and Neon Genesis Evangelion: Comic Tribute (Dark Horse).

Over the course of the week beginning July 14th, I’ll be writing about my own love affair with Kouga-sensei’s idiosyncratic writing, but whether you’re a fan, an anti-fan, or somewhere in-between, you’re invited to join in! No blog? No problem! Send me your submissions by email anytime between the 14th and 20th, and I’ll post them on your behalf. There is no end to the creativity encouraged by the MMF. Please explore the works of Yun Kouga in any way you choose, including anything from straight-up reviews, roundtables, or essays to a video of your Kouga-inspired interpretive dance. All submissions and all participants are welcome!

I will post an introduction to the Yun Kouga MMF on Sunday, July 14th, including a link to the Feast’s archive page and instructions for notifying me of your submissions. In the meantime, feel free to send links to older pieces to mj@mangabookshelf.com for inclusion in this month’s archive.

Any questions? Please let me know, or join the MMF Google Group.

Manga Bookshelf & Yumi Tamura

May 27, 2013 by MJ Leave a Comment

Here at Manga Bookshelf, we love the Manga Moveable Feast. Sometimes, though, we really love it, and this month has been one of those times.

scan0003 Though only a handful of works by Yumi Tamura have been published in English, our collective love for Tamura-sensei’s work was enough to inspire a host of articles here this week, including a rather lengthy roundtable discussion. Since these articles are likely to scroll off the front page long before we’re finished visiting and revisiting them in our minds, here’s a handy index of our contributions to this month’s Feast.

Yumi Tamura at Manga Bookshelf

Fanservice Friday: Draco Malfoy & the Blue King (MJ)
License This! 7 Seeds by Tamura Yumi (Travis Anderson)
Yumi Tamura: Two Artbooks (Karen Peck)
Off the Shelf: Basara, MMF Edition (MJ, Michelle Smith, Anna N., & Karen Peck)
Basara, Vols 13-16 (Anna N.)
Personalizing Feminism in Basara (MJ)

Since we really have no desire to stop talking about Yumi Tamura, we hope you’ll join us in comments!

Full roundups of this month’s MMF entries can be found at Tokyo Jupiter.

Personalizing Feminism in Basara

May 26, 2013 by MJ 29 Comments

(Warning: This article contains major spoilers for Yumi Tamura’s Basara.)

When you’re discussing a 27-volume series like Yumi Tamura’s Basara, there’s inevitably a lot to be said that can’t be said in a single roundtable discussion—even when that discussion is nearly 10,000 words long! I was able to get some of the more fannish overflow out of my system by way of last week’s Fanservice Friday, but one topic I’m still obsessing over, even after our roundtable discussion, is feminism in Basara, and how it relates to both the story’s politics as a whole and to me personally as a reader.

Despite the fact that I openly identify as a feminist, it’s something that I don’t talk about often, at least not in specifics. And the primary reason for this is that I’m not a student of feminist theory—or really any theory at all (unless you count music theory, and I think you’ll find that most people don’t). I’ve never read any books about feminism, or taken a class, or attended a talk on the subject. I can’t speak as an expert or scholar, or even as a well-informed layperson. I don’t even have the academic background or vocabulary with which to fake it. I rarely talk about feminism, because I don’t want to talk ignorantly about feminism, and that’s pretty much where things stand.

My identity as “feminist” comes largely out of ideas that have been part of who I am ever since the moment I realized, as a child, that there were people in the world who inexplicably made assumptions about me based solely on my gender. It simply didn’t make sense. Though, as I became old enough to comprehend it, I realized that there were ways in which the household I grew up in conformed to traditional ideas about gender (both certified teachers, my mother balanced part-time work with most of the childcare, housekeeping, and cooking, while my father worked full-time), neither of my parents seemed remotely concerned that I followed more naturally in my dad’s footsteps and showed no interest at all in domestic pursuits.

I liked pretty dresses, ballerinas, heated political debates, science fiction, kickball, and digging up worms in the back yard, and nobody ever suggested that there might be anything contradictory about my tastes. I was allowed and encouraged to just be “me,” to pursue my natural interests wherever that led me, and the idea that there might be limits on that, for any reason, seemed patently absurd. I knew instinctively that I was a capable, complete person, and that my individual potential was just that—individual. Nothing else made sense. My parents taught us about things like “women’s lib” and “male chauvinist pigs” (somewhere in the late 70s my sister and I acquired t-shirts with the slogan, “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle”) but the whole thing seemed kind of ludicrously obvious. Nobody really thought otherwise, did they? It was all right there. The whole world was right in front of me, in all its glorious mystery, and I was a free agent. What did my gender have to do with anything?

As I got older, and my world became more obviously gendered, things made even less sense. Though certain girl-tagged items were, to me, obvious draws (YA fiction and prettyboy teen idols dominated much of my free time in my pre-teens) popular concepts of what it meant to “be a girl” in midwestern ’80s teen society—the hairspray, the conversation, those quizzes in Cosmopolitan—just felt wholly alien, as did most other girls I knew. I struggled to look and act like them, but I simply didn’t fit the mold, no matter how painfully I squeezed and prodded. Having finally hit upon something apparently beyond my capabilities, I wondered if I even was a real girl, given the growing evidence against it. It was my 8th grade English teacher, though, who finally, inadvertently showed me the way. When, as we studied Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, she admitted that she thought that Hester deserved to wear that big, red “A,” I knew suddenly that whatever that teacher was, I decidedly was not. And that’s when I began to really think about and identify with the word “feminist.”

Out of all that, whatever it is that my personal “feminism” is and grew out of, that’s the feminism of Basara. It’s the feminism of a girl who just is what she is, whether she’s falling in love or leading a rebellion against an oppressive regime. Whether she’s using her own name, her brother’s, or no name at all, she’s all herself, all the time, and she couldn’t possibly be anything else. And though she’s not consciously fighting a feminist cause, she’s forwarding one with her politics in general, as well as by simply existing as herself and exercising her own undeniable agency.

Basara‘s feminism, however, is not just about its formidable lead. Shoujo manga as a whole is heavily populated with spunky heroines, many of whom lead overtly heroic lives, especially in fantasy series like Basara. Often, however, these heroines exist largely alone in a world of men. They are exceptional girls and women, of this there’s no doubt, but that’s just the thing—they’re exceptions. Even in current shoujo fantasy series, like Dawn of the Arcana or Fushigi Yugi: Genbu Kaiden, heroic women are supernaturally-endowed or pre-destined beings to be protected and fought over, anomalies in their worlds, often despised and opposed by other female characters (who may or may not be evil love rivals).

Basara begins with some fantasy tropes firmly in place. Sarasa is the “child of destiny,” and she initially disguises her gender in order to lead her revolution. But as her journey brings her in touch with numerous other women whose individual dreams and circumstances have caused them to cross her path (and, in most cases, join her cause), the matter of hiding her gender becomes more of a lie she doesn’t know how to get out of rather than anything of genuine importance. And when she’s finally forced into revealing the truth, it’s a relief to everyone.

Which isn’t to say that being a powerful woman in Sarasa’s post-apocalyptic Japan is easy. Chacha, the pirate captain who joins Sarasa’s (Tatara’s) army after their initial confrontation, spent her young life constantly having to prove herself in order to take on her natural role as a leader. Renko, the outspoken publisher of a newspaper in Suo, is persecuted and (literally) crucified for criticizing Momonoi’s regime. And Kiku—the one female among the White King’s “four nobles” acknowledges more than once her frustration and sense of powerlessness in her role. But, like Chacha and Sarasa, Kiku eventually learns to love who she is and to take control of her own destiny.

I think it’s notable that the White King, who is eventually revealed as the series’ primary antagonist (I don’t say “villain,” because ultimately this story doesn’t so much have villains as is does just people who have been badly damaged by their circumstances), is a woman whose sense of self was utterly destroyed by the role she was forced into as a young woman in the royal family. She’s a tragic figure—one that Tamura refuses to soften with any kind of last-minute redemption, or anything approaching a happy ending. The damage done by the patriarchy is real and irreversible, says Basara, and there’s no way out but to dismantle it completely.

And dismantle it Tamura does. I talked a bit in our roundtable about what I see as social anarchist principles at work in Basara, and these are inextricable from the series’ feminism. Women lead the story’s rebellion because it is women, forced to view the corrupt power structure from the outside, who are able to see clearly the damage that’s been done and what’s required to forge a completely new path. Men are valuable allies in Tatara’s revolution, but it’s the women who are teaching them (and each other) how to live better lives. When Sarasa finds herself shattered by the realization that the man she’s fallen in love with and the man she’s vowed to destroy are one and the same, though it’s Ageha who shelters her through her subsequent mental breakdown, it’s her mother‘s words that finally help Sarasa to shed the hate that she’s been subsisting on all through her career as “Tatara.”

One particularly moving scene in volume thirteen takes place in Suo city, at the site of Renko’s crucifixion. Though in the next volume, Sarasa and her army will arrive to remove Renko from her cross, Renko’s artist lover, Hozumi, (who is also Momonoi’s son) arrives to show her that she’s made a difference. Having lost use of his arms as punishment for aiding Renko, Hozumi kneels before her to paint as a demonstration of his support and understanding.

“I was born into a rich family,” he thinks as he works,” I had nice clothes to wear. I ate good food. Until I came to Suo and met Renko, I knew nothing about the world. If I try to make a speech now, it can only sound naive. I just don’t want anyone to shed blood.”

“I love you,” he thinks as he paints a field of green around her, but the subtext is, “Thank you,” and “You saved me.” And as he demonstrates, silently, what he’s learned from Renko, Sarasa is learning it too. In the wake of Renko’s sacrifice, Sarasa glimpses a world in which individual creativity and expression is more powerful than the sword, and where fully-realized individuals can come together peacefully to work for the common good.

I mentioned in the roundtable that I thought it was notable that though Tamura clearly views some forms of government more favorably than others, Sarasa never attempts to establish any government at all, and a later side story reveals that the government that does spring up after the rebellion has already fallen into corruption less than a full generation later. Ultimately, Basara rejects not only the violent, decadent patriarchy that Sarasa and her comrades fight to bring down, but any system at all that threatens the compassionate autonomy Sarasa and her allies represent.

Perhaps the greatest demonstration of Tamura’s rejection of patriarchal norms, however, is in her publishers’ apparent need to reinforce them, at least on the surface.

When I got to the series’ final volume, I was surprised at its cover, featuring what would appear to be the wedding of Sarasa and Shuri, with a sort of weird, plastic, pod-people feel to it.

“Do they actually get married?” I asked myself, flipping quickly through the volume for some sign of matrimonial activity.

“Hmmm… Shuri proves to Sarasa that he’s no longer the “Red King,” Tamon gets the Genbu sword, Asagi adopts an orphaned child (what?), no… not here… cute owls… no.”

And the answer is… no. Though Sarasa and Shuri do apparently stay together and definitely produce offspring, there’s no indication whatsoever that they bothered to walk down the aisle—nor does that even seem likely given the way they’ve decided to live. In fact, it’s explicitly stated at one point that they’re not married. They are lovers, for sure, and partners, absolutely. But husband and wife? If it happens, it’s offscreen.

There is one couple who gets married during the course of the volume—with very little page time, and the ceremony is not shown—but even that short story is focused on the couple’s determination not to change as individuals despite their arranged marriage. “Just because we’re gettin’ married doesn’t mean it changes anything. You don’t have to change. And I won’t either.” At best, it reads as the reluctant acceptance of a generally objectionable institution.

So what’s up with that cover? Was it so important that the series appear to wrap up with a traditionally “happy” shoujo ending that they had to retcon one in? I can’t know the answer for sure, of course, but wow does it create some real cognitive dissonance.

Fortunately the contents of the book itself are consistent with the raw, heartfelt feminism that drives the series overall, and the volume ends with the image of the child, Sarasa, facing that glorious, mysterious world with the same sense of power and free agency I felt as I gazed at the fields and woods beyond my childhood backyard.

All images © Yumi Tamura/Shogakukan, Inc. New and adapted artwork and text © Viz Media. This article was written for the Yumi Tamura Manga Moveable Feast. Check out Tokyo Jupiter for more!

Off the Shelf: Basara, MMF Edition

May 25, 2013 by Anna N, MJ, Michelle Smith and Karen Peck 17 Comments

MJ: It’s time once again for the Manga Moveable Feast, this month featuring the works of Yumi Tamura and hosted at Tokyo Jupiter. Though three of her manga have been published in English by Viz Media, Tamura-sensei is best known to English-speaking fans for her 27-volume fantasy series Basara, published by Viz in its entirety between 2003 and 2008. The story—about a fifteen-year-old girl in post-apocalyptic Japan who assumes the identity of her murdered twin brother in order to free her people from the tyrannical grip of a corrupt monarchy— offers up a familiar mix of sword-fighting, military strategy, political intrigue, drama, humor, and romance along with themes less common in high fantasy, like feminism and (I’d argue) social anarchism.

Since Michelle has been a vocal fan of Basara for a long, long time, it seemed only natural that we’d dedicate this week’s Off the Shelf to a discussion of the series. We’ve also invited Anna to join in on the festivities, along with Karen Peck, Michelle’s collaborator on The CMX Project. Welcome, Anna and Karen!

Though Basara was one of the very first series recommended to me when I first began reading manga in 2007, I missed the opportunity to buy most of Viz’s editions when they were actually in print, and it took me years to acquire some of the rarer middle volumes. As a result, though I eventually did find them all, I’d only read through the first ten volumes before planning this roundtable. I suspect I’m the only one coming to the discussion as a (mostly) new reader of the series. Can you each tell me a bit about how you were first introduced to Basara?

ANNA: I think I actually stumbled across Basara fairly close to when it was first coming out. I think I picked up the first half-dozen volumes and then started buying each volume as it was released. One thing I remember was that the manga looked a bit different from the other Viz releases at the time, which definitely piqued my interest.

MICHELLE: Honestly, I’m not sure how I first encountered Basara. In my early days of manga enthusiasm, one of my goals was Buy All the Shoujo, so it’s possible I just snagged it because of its imprint. I also, however, have a distinct memory of reading about the Basara anime, thinking it sounded awesome, and acquiring some fansubs of that. I just can’t remember which came first. What I do have documented is that I read the first volume of the Basara manga in September 2004 and the last in 2008. Although merciless upon my wallet, the Buy All the Shoujo approach did save me some anguish, as I bought each volume as it came out and didn’t have to track anything down.

KAREN: I am a latecomer to Basara, having just finished reading it this weekend. I don’t know why I skipped out on it when it first came out, as I was in a similar BUY ALL THE SHOUJO mode as Michelle was. Years later, I kept hearing how awesome it was—but the idea of collecting it was daunting, as some of the volumes were out of print and fetching crazy prices online.

What really prodded me was reading 7SEEDS, Tamura’s current work, in French, which was one of the best things I’ve ever read. So I decided to go ahead and start buying up all the Basara I could, and import the French-language editions as placeholders, with the hope that prices would one day came down to something reasonable. I was lucky that a generous friend found volumes 19 through 21 for me at a used bookstore and passed them along – thanks Michelle!

MJ: So I’m not the only newcomer! That makes me happy, I admit—mainly because I found the series so exciting that I was worried my n00b squee would be so loud and obnoxious as to drown out all reasonable discussion. I mean, this thing pings pretty much everything I’ve ever loved in manga, beginning with its truly awesome heroine all the way to the simple fact of its length. Which is not to say that I love all long-running series, but I absolutely love a long-running series that is so obviously well-planned as this one was. There isn’t a single extraneous scene in Basara—absolutely everything that happens is essential to its plot line and the growth of its characters. That’s my take on it, at least. Is it just me?

MICHELLE: It isn’t just you. (But first let me express my gladness that you love this series. Maybe this is what you felt like when I was the newcomer to your beloved Fullmetal Alchemist!) Basara is incredibly well planned—though upon this reread I picked up on one subtle, possible mid-story change that I missed the first time, more on this later—and Tamura-sensei juggles the various elements with consummate skill. That’s not to say that there isn’t time for levity, for there surely is, but she’s able to combine some lighter moments with action in a way I really like. Too, there are scenes between supporting characters that are absolutely fascinating. I definitely have more to say about this later, too, but I don’t want to rush ahead before we’ve actually talked about our main characters!

KAREN: I just want to throw in my appreciation of a well-plotted series – she’s juggling a lot of balls, but she keeps the focus primarily on Sarasa and Shuri. There’s room for secondary and tertiary character development, but it never sidetracks the story. Wisely, she leaves longer stories of those characters to the extra chapters – and avoids any of those other characters from taking over in the main story. What is important is how they serve the story and relate to either Sarasa and/or Shuri – they still have their importance but they have their place, too.

I’m glad someone else will be a oh-so-excited newbie over this with me! There’s something about reading these epic series in a compressed amount of time, the drama of the story is more intense because there is no wait – having to go to sleep/work made me downright resentful, I wanted to be back in that world and see what happened.

MJ: Yes, yes, exactly, Karen! I’m a big fan of total immersion when it comes to fiction (or anything, really) and my experience with Basara was a perfect illustration of why. I read it all through in just a few days, and during that time, I really lived there. It was an awesome place to live, that’s for sure.

And that is exactly how I felt when you were the newcomer, Michelle, so I figured it would be a point of personal gratification for you! And speaking of our main characters, why don’t we jump right in? I have a lot of highfalutin thoughts regarding the series’ feminism and so on, but to get to that, we have to begin with Sarasa. Michelle, would you like to start us off?

MICHELLE: Sure!

When Sarasa and her twin brother Tatara were born, Nagi, the prophet of Byakko village, proclaimed, “This is the child of destiny.” ** The assumption was made that the prophecy would obviously pertain to the male child, and so Tatara was celebrated and fêted while Sarasa saw herself as unwanted scraps. After the Red Army attacks her village and Tatara is beheaded by General Kazan, the most loyal of the Red King’s soldiers, the people of the village are confusedly milling about. Knowing that something needs to be done to give them hope so that they might make it to safety, Sarasa transforms herself into Tatara.

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She continues to live in that guise most of the time, intent on personal vengeance at first but gradually developing a desire to transform the entire country. She’s only able to be Sarasa in stolen moments with Shuri, a handsome but arrogant fellow whom she believes is a dumpling merchant but who is actually the Red King. (Hello, textbook example of dramatic irony!) Eventually, however, she does come clean about her gender to her followers, who all do not care. “You’re the leader we believe in,” they tell her.

And why believe in her? Because she’s not just idealistic about how the world should be, she acts. It’s this that earns her Shuri’s respect, too. She doesn’t just speak up about injustice, she does something about it. And not something histrionic, but typically something downright clever (though her plans are not immune to failure). One of her followers, Hijiri, puts it this way: “I think I’m starting to understand, Tatara. People don’t come worshipping you as the savior. They don’t come together under you looking for guidance… They can’t bear just to stand back and watch as you run ahead on unsteady feet, bawling your eyes out.”

** Originally, Tamura-sensei depicted Nagi as unaware of which of the children was actually the subject of the prophecy. “Now… I see what I could not,” he says. “Tatara was the sacrifice. Sarasa. You are the one…” Later, though, there’s a very small bit in volume eight where Chigusa, Sarasa’s mother, suggests that Sarasa was specifically the subject and that her parents treated her the way they did for her protection. Which basically means Tatara’s parents were setting him up to be a decoy from the start. I never caught that change the first time around.

KAREN: What I enjoyed about Sarasa is her growth – and she does make mistakes, as Michelle points out. She’s not some Child of Destiny savant, she has a lot to learn and the reader gets to see this happening. And she has to learn it while secretly coming of age as a young woman – no wonder she opens her heart to the one person who only knows Sarasa.

And as she grows, so does the revolution. Avenge her family. Rescue the sword. Each step leads to another, more challenges, more allies. Which all leads to… making a new Japan. And it turns out, as Michelle noted, the revolution was able to go on, even if it was lead by a woman – maybe it could only happen because it was led by a woman.

ANNA: I think the “Child of Destiny” aspect of Sarasa’s life is handled in a very realistic and nuanced manner. Too often, a protagonist with this type of fate ends up serving as a bit of a narrative crutch for the author. In Sarasa’s case while she is clearly destined for great things, she ends up struggling so much and sometimes being aided by random chance so that her destiny feels like it is earned through time, rather than something that was just handed to her.

Shuri, the other star-crossed lover in this equation, ends up being a great foil for Sarasa simply because he is so very different from her. He starts off as extremely arrogant and entitled, but he still cares for his people. His brutality in battle contrasts with his gentleness with Sarasa, as he doesn’t realize that she’s the leader of the rebellion.

MJ: I agree with what all of you have said, and I think what I also really appreciate about the way Sarasa is written is that regardless of whether she’s using her brother’s name or her own, she’s all Sarasa all the time. Though she clearly recognizes that as “Tatara” she has enormous responsibility on her shoulders, it’s not like the Tatara persona gives her anything she doesn’t already possess. When she eventually longs for the opportunity to just be “Sarasa,” it’s not that she isn’t able to be herself or isn’t able to be a woman when she’s calling herself Tatara. It’s that she, like any leader, occasionally longs for the chance to be selfish. She longs to be able to make decisions for her own sake only—just now and then—without having to be responsible for the lives and happiness of everyone else in Japan at the same time. She’s the girl “Sarasa” all the time, but sometimes she wishes to be only that.

Her feelings ring very true to me, and stand in stark contrast to something like Princess Knight, in which the heroine is reduced to a delicate flower anytime her “boy’s heart” is taken away from her. Sarasa couldn’t be anyone else if she tried.

MICHELLE: Very well put! This puts me in mind of a scene from the Okinawa arc in which Sarasa is dressed like Tatara, carrying his sword, and doing something heroic—trying to keep a presidential candidate from attacking a ship carrying his own brother—but all Shuri sees when he looks her way is Sarasa.

Speaking of Sarasa and her growth, one thing I really liked was that her flaws don’t go away automatically. She has a tendency to keep things from her followers, not because she doesn’t trust them but because she doesn’t want to burden them. This happens several times until Asagi (I assume we’ll have a great deal to say about him!) exploits the situation and creates the first serious discord the group experiences. Later, though, Sarasa becomes more assured when issuing commands and is able to put her comrades to use because she finally understands that contributing is important to them.

MJ: I know that Sarasa’s stubborn autonomy is one of her flaws, but I admit that it’s one I find particularly endearing—not so much when it comes to her comrades, who really need her to be willing to share her burdens, but in general as just part of her personality. People’s best and worst traits are usually flip-sides of the same thing, and Sarasa’s instinct to take care of difficult things on her own is, I think, the flip-side of her ability to take care of others when it most counts.

There’s a scene in volume five, when Sarasa and Shuri have been forced into participating in a sick “race” (actually a hunt, where humans—mostly slaves—are the hunted) for the entertainment of the Blue King, in which Shuri offers Sarasa his comfort and protection. “It’s all right. I’m here,” he says, and for a moment Sarasa thinks about how nice it must be to feel protected. “But…” she thinks, “I’m Tatara. If I were alone, I’d have to do something on my own.” At which point, she takes charge of the situation and organizes the group in building what they need to make it to the next part of the race. And y’know, she says, “I’m Tatara,” but that’s the way she is all the time. She puts herself on the front line in any situation, and that includes those that (she thinks) only affect her.

ANNA: One of the things I like about the series is how leadership is explored throughout the story. As Sarasa travels she encounters a variety of leaders in different locations as she seeks to find allies to aid her rebellion. I’m thinking of the brash style of the Pirate Queen Chacha in particular, as she provides an example of what it is like for a female to lead without disguising her gender.

MJ: Oh, I absolutely love Chacha—so much so that I wouldn’t mind at all skipping over Shuri right now and coming back to him later.

MICHELLE: That would be okay with me!

MJ: Chacha is one of those characters who grabbed me in about two seconds. I loved that fact that she was respected and revered by her crew and that there was no fuss made whatsoever about the fact that she was a woman. It was just a matter of fact.

MICHELLE: We glimpse some of her and Zaki’s shared backstory in volume seven, and even from childhood she’s challenging the notion that she won’t be able to take over leadership of the pirate crew because of her gender. She simply proceeded to get stronger than everyone, defeat them publicly, and then she was accepted. And she is definitely womanly, and passionate about her pleasures, etc.

KAREN: Chacha is indeed awesome – but there’s a number of the women of Basara I could say that about. Tamura is one of those writers who shows that women have ways to develop and display their power, in a variety of ways. Kikune, one of the Four Nobles, is the only girl in that group and feels like she has to work harder to measure up – even when she has skills beyond the others and her gender helps her with one of her assignments (such as being a lady-in-waiting to the Purple Queen). Despite her ties to the White King, she seems to be able to be helpful wherever needed – and provides Sarasa a friend her own age.

Then there’s women such as Princess Senju, Shido’s (briefly) wife and later widow, who represents the letting go of the cycle of vengeance that could undermine everything that Tatara is fighting for. Another woman who breaks that cycle is Sarasa’s mother, who devotes herself to tending the wounded of either side of the battlefield, which seems to lead to a larger “Nightingale” movement, which is significant to the healing of a united Japan as well.

MICHELLE: Definitely an impressive list! I’m also fond of Yuna, Dr. Basho’s apprentice, who becomes Shuri’s friend yet doesn’t take any of his crap and talks plainly to him, which is what he needs.

MJ: Since we’re talking about female characters, I can’t help but bring up Tara, a character who appears in one of the many side stories that populate the series’ last couple of volumes. She’s someone we eventually find out is sort of an ancestor to Sarasa, philosophically speaking—and in more ways than one! She’s living a nomadic warrior lifestyle with three men, one of whom she’s very close to (and probably in love with, but that’s a whole other thing). At one point, she’s confronted by the girlfriend of that guy who tries to appeal to her as a woman, “Please… give him back. You’re a woman, too. You must understand. A woman is happiest with the one she loves, having his children, having a family. I hope you can find that life, too.” Tara answers, absolutely befuddled, “I don’t understand. Even an animal can do that. I want to do something only I can do.”

Tamura spends a lot of time rejecting traditional ideas about what it means to be a woman, but I think even more than that, what it means to be a person. She treasures the individuality and autonomy of her characters more than anything else, but not in a self-obsessed Ayn Rand kind of way. Rather, she seems to place the greatest value on an individual’s capacity for unbridled compassion—an ability to do great things in the service of others.

ANNA: I agree, Sarasa starts out as a decent human being and manages to grow in both her capabilities and her compassion as she’s exposed to more people during her travels through post-apocalyptic Japan.

MJ: To bring this back to your discussion of leadership, Anna, one way in which Sarasa grows especially is in her ability as a leader, and it’s this that really caused me to identify Basara as a social anarchist narrative. Sarasa becomes more skilled as a warrior and as a military strategist as the story goes on, and she certainly learns the importance of trusting her comrades. But the place that trust eventually comes from—and what Tamura characterizes as her greatest strength as a leader—is in her ability to take her own ego entirely out of the equation. It’s stated several times throughout the story that the rebellion wouldn’t end if Tatara were to die, because each of Tatara’s followers is personally driven and capable of continuing the fight on his or her own. Sarasa’s a natural leader, and she’s used those skills along with the legend of “the child of destiny” to empower people to rise up against their oppressors, but the secret to her success is in knowing when not to lead—or perhaps in the fact that she leads by example rather than by rule. “Tatara’s army is a marvel,” someone observes late in the series. “Each man moves at his own discretion, but they don’t fragment into chaos.”

And while there is certainly a sense throughout the series that Tamura believes this kind of vision could only have been realized because “Tatara” is a woman, I think the message goes beyond feminism. It’s significant to me that though Tamura portrays certain forms of government in a more positive light than others, Sarasa never tries to establish any government at all. And when, in a later side story, we hear more about the government that did spring up after the rebellion, it’s already begun to sink into corruption.

MICHELLE: I actually have some geekbumps now, thinking of the first time “Tatara” specifically addresses the masses about the type of world she wants to create. It comes during volume thirteen when Renko (another strong woman!) is being persecuted for operating a newspaper critical of Momonoi, the governor of Suo City who’s been appointed by King Ukon in the Red King’s absence. In a very stirring scene, Tatara cinematically stands upon a rooftop and, for the first time, specifically orates about her vision for the future. Killing Momonoi is not the way, she insists, because a new leader will only be appointed in his place and nothing will change.

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MJ: And perhaps this is the time to finally come back to Shuri, the Red King, because though Sarasa grows immensely throughout the series, it’s Shuri whose entire worldview must be torn down and rebuilt from scratch.

Our first glimpse of the Red King is as the worst kind of tyrant. When a young Sarasa accidentally runs out in front of his marching army, he—just a child himself—orders her to be killed. Thanks to intervention from Ageha (oh, so much to say about him here at some point), Sarasa’s life is spared, but the king returns just a few years later to remove the potential threat of “the child of destiny,” killing Tatara and pretty much wiping out Sarasa’s entire village.

Sarasa’s next encounter with him is at a remote hot spring, where she’s gone to soothe herself after suffering a wound in her escape as “Tatara.” There, Shuri’s just a guy, a bit too sure of himself, but still just a guy. Sarasa is put off by his arrogance, but after a second encounter, the two start to open up to each other—Sarasa about her plans to avenge her loved ones and Shuri about his plans to take control of his screwed-up family. On one hand, it’s set up as a classic tale of star-crossed lovers, but what Tamura really uses this for is to allow Sarasa to reach Shuri and introduce him to a new way of thinking without her blind hatred for the Red King getting in the way. And while this ultimately forces Sarasa to confront her own hatred, it’s Shuri whose ideas must be completely transformed, not only to be worthy of Sarasa, but also to become worthy of the people of Japan.

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I’ll be the first to admit that I really disliked Shuri in those early scenes in the hot springs, and I worried initially that he was going to be just another controlling shoujo love interest I’d be expected to adore. Fortunately, that wasn’t Tamura’s agenda in the slightest.

ANNA: Shuri really changes and evolves. It is a tricky thing to pull off, showing someone so unsympathetic at the beginning only to be completely transformed through their experiences, but Tamura pulls it off. And just as Sarasa manages to surround herself with loyal followers Shuri gradually puts together his own supporters as well.

MICHELLE: Like Sarasa’s, Shuri’s evolution is so well done because it’s hard-earned and gradual. His first chance to spend some significant time with Sarasa occurs when they travel to Seiran (home of the Blue King) together, each secretly thinking to use the other as cover. They end up participating in the sick race MJ mentioned earlier, and during it, they have their first clash about how to treat people. Though Shuri dismissed her views at the time, Sarasa’s words come back to him later, even though he is still unable to admit he’s made any mistakes.

And even after he’s seen Okinawa and been inspired, Shuri really only sees the flaws in Japan and how it could be different, but still nothing wrong about himself or anything he’s done. There’s a telling scene in volume nine where he’s talking about being reborn and one starts to expect some kind of big turning point… except on the next page he reveals that instead of being a king, he’s decided to become an absolute dictator.

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It’s clear that while some new thoughts are beginning to percolate in his brain, he still doesn’t truly get it. And really, his overall goals—a united Japan that is peaceful, prosperous, and green—aren’t so very different from Tatara’s. It’s just that his own ego is FULLY in the equation. Dominating the equation, in fact.

ANNA: Shuri’s arrogance is a defining characteristic. I’ve often thought that if he were transplanted into the current times, he’d be an effective CEO of a company. While he has more than enough ego to spare, he also has an uncanny ability to find people who will be loyal to him, and he uses their abilities to further his goals. In addition, Shuri’s confidence may contribute to him being a bit reckless, but his recklessness often leads to success as he often exhibits a certain kind of calculated ruthlessness when making his decisions. It is easy to see how other people would be drawn to him, because his potential for greatness is obvious.

KAREN: Shuri’s growth was exciting to watch because despite its harshness, it really, really took a long time for him to really and truly change. Where Sarasa was The Child of Destiny who was meant to change the world, Shuri really had to overcome his birthright and his destiny to become a better person, and worthy of Sarasa. But wow, how he was broken – his best friend dead, his capital burnt, deposed, forced into death race, sold into slavery – he’s hard to break and even harder to change. The reader roots for him to be a better person because there are glimpses and glimmers of a better person underneath, and what all of that intelligence and charisma could do, if used for good. The relationship between simply Shuri and simply Sarasa was important not just for the sake of romance, but to show a different side to the rebel leader and the Red King.

Sarasa and Shuri really have to learn to trust others – Sarasa’s worry is that she’s burdening others, a trait probably having to do with feeling like the left-behind sister of the Child of Destiny – while Shuri’s is a matter of pride. He is the son of the king, he is the Red King – as Michelle, said, ego – he clings to that to a point where it could have destroyed him. When he’s deposed and the common folk try to offer their help, he angrily brushes it aside. For this reason I enjoyed seeing his friendships with Nakijin and Yuna develop, although the Shuri/Nakijin bromance wasn’t the most intense one in the series (I would give the Cipher award for Best Bromance to Nachi and Hijiri, although I’m open to other nominations).

Now that we’re into Shuri, how about the other two major players from the royal family – the mercurial Asagi/Blue King and the scheming, deeply damaged Ginko/White King?

MJ: Oh, Asagi… Asagi. I e-mailed Michelle partway through the series to express my surprise that Tamura had made me half-fall for a character like Asagi. Then later, I fell the rest of the way. Kinda pathetic, really, but wow did I find him relatable later on. You could boil his entire character down to the one simple desire: to have someone—anyone—just one person love him best. And seriously, who can’t relate to that?

MICHELLE: I love the notion of Asagi as parasite—that’s the name of the chapter in which he first comes aboard Tatara’s ship, even—because he’s so cold and calculating yet really depends on others more than anyone. At first, his presence among Tatara’s followers really stressed me out because I just hated watching everyone being controlled by him so easily, but once Sarasa gains confidence as a leader she’s able to shut down some of his schemes and manages him more effectively. Of course, by this time he’s begun to be changed by proximity to her, as was the White King’s concern.

ANNA: Asagi is a fully realized character, but he’s also a bit of a plot contrivance, just because he actively prevents Sarasa and Shuri from finding out the truth about each other.

MJ: It’s interesting that you say that, Anna, because that idea hadn’t really crossed my mind at all. I mean, yes, he deliberately withholds the truth from both of them after he’s figured it out, but his motivations make so much sense, it hadn’t occurred to me to think of him as a contrivance. He’s so jealous of Shuri, and has been for so long (for very relatable reasons, if not good ones) that it seems perfectly natural to me that he’d cling to any power he had (or could imagine he had) over Shuri’s life. And in the end, he really has none at all. Meanwhile, the meaningful friendship he develops with Sarasa (despite his protestations) is one of my favorite relationships in the series.

KAREN: There were certain points with Asagi where I wish he’d grow a mustache so he’d have something to twirl as he plots away. Okay, he wasn’t ever that cartoonish, but he seemed very impressed with his own scheming – he did learn from a master, after all. But he never could quite have the White King’s detachment – and this proves to be his undoing to furthering her plots. Despite all his plans, he liked Sarasa and her group – those friendships humanized him more than he ever intended. He may be selfish, but he’s very salvageable – he thankfully never got as twisted as his mentor/mother/sister. Parasites can sometimes be beneficial, after all.

One character I did love right away was Ageha. I think he has other fans here as well?

MJ: It’s difficult for me to imagine any reader not loving Ageha. He makes an immediate impression by standing up to the Red King on Sarasa’s behalf, and things only go uphill from there. He’s a rare kind of heroic shoujo figure who can spend a major portion of his time crossdressing for a living, and still strike fear into the heart of… well, really anyone. There’s a scene at one point late in the series, when Ageha has become a source of terror for those in King Ukon’s circles, and he passes Shuri on the street, dressed as a woman, strumming lightly on a small stringed instrument. And it’s one of the most menacing things in the world. Only Ageha could pull that off—both the grace of it and the foreboding.

He’s also one of the series’ most sympathetic characters, and the most tragic from my point of view. I couldn’t help half-shipping him with Sarasa, just because he was so entirely worthy of her, unlike any other man in the series, really. And I honestly cried when he sat to have a smoke with the severed head of his dear friend, Taro, who had been executed for being a journalist.

ANNA: Ageha is so larger than life and fascinating! He’s one of my favorite supporting characters in manga of all time. In addition to Basara, I would have happily read a 20+ volume series just about him. I think with Ageha as an example, Sarasa starts to get a sense of how important Tatara is as a symbol, and her use of theatricality in addition to military tactics helps her win confrontations. Ageha is in many ways the perfect mentor, showing up just when Sarasa needs him, and disappearing when it seems like she might rely on him too much.

MICHELLE: I love Ageha very, very much. One thing I was particularly struck by this reread is how he initially keeps some distance in his relationship with Tatara and still acts friendly with some of the people she opposes. It’s not emblazoned brightly, but Tamura does show this how this came to be in a conversation Ageha has with Senju in volume nine. Senju asks, “So now whose side are you on?” Ageha replies, “Now? I can’t say.” His thoughts continue with, “I haven’t heard from Tatara yet. What kind of country do you want to build? How will you change things? I still haven’t heard…”

When Sarasa returns from Okinawa, inspired, she addresses her followers with specific goals for the country’s future for the first time. Ageha looks on, impressed, and from then on suddenly becomes a much more committed ally. Has he chosen his side at last? He’s there for her in a huge way all throughout the Abashiri Prison arc—we must talk about this, which boasts several very painful scenes—and one eventually comes to realize that he’s been hoping this whole time. Hoping she was the one who’d change things, and helping her in any way he could, but maintaining some distance just in case she ended up a disappointment.

MJ: He also manages to be respected by pretty much everyone, including those who oppose Tatara the most. Besides his complicated history with Shuri’s most trusted ally, Shido, one scene that also springs to mind is in the Blue King’s castle, where he’s able to speak plainly, insulting the Blue King (the fake one, not Asagi—that’s a whole thing) who is begging Ageha to become his personal entertainer and somehow getting away with it—in part thanks to Asagi’s intervention, but also just because that’s who Ageha is. He’s not someone who can be dismissed, even in anger.

MICHELLE: I did wonder how he got to be so influential. Perhaps it’s due to his career as Kicho, which allowed him access to people in positions of power, who he was then able to charm with his beguiling dance.

MJ: I think that’s got to be a major factor—much is made of the fact that he is beguiling to everyone—and I also think it’s his presence. As a former slave, Ageha went through a lot to recover himself as a person (with the help of the troupe that took him in), and as a result, I think he’s more certain of who he is and who other people really are than anyone else in the story. That alone is a real source of power.

MICHELLE: I can see that. Hence the lack of kowtowing to authority figures.

KAREN: Michelle, I wondered that too! He must be a great dancer.

I loved him most when he took a despondent Sarasa, who was heartbroken over finding out that Shuri was the Red King, away from her supportive cocoon (which also has some less-than-supportive elements) to try to make her deal with everything. I think only Ageha could have done that; she knows that he’s been through much, much worse and I think he’s the one who loves her enough to essentially abandon her when she needs it.

And then he cuts his hair. That devastated me, because his support seemed to be the most important – he seemed to be the only one that got Sarasa and the rebel leader Tarata.

I wondered at that point if he had really given up on her being “the one”. His destiny – that he would one day meet a woman worth dying for – is even heavier than Sarasa’s. Did he know when he sacrificed his eye for her when she was a child? Then he’s in Kyoto, and is it Taro’s death that drives him to his endgame? Or is he realizing, like Sarasa, that he can’t outrun his destiny?

MJ: I love that you brought all this up, Karen, and especially the cutting of his hair, because it seemed so… final. I’m grateful that it wasn’t, and that he came back to Sarasa in the end, but his story is the most painful for me, ultimately, because I have the same questions as you do, and I wonder if he was really sure, even in the end, that she was that “woman worth dying for.”

ANNA: Ageha’s status as a person apart also serves as a contrast to the familial bonds that develop between Sarasa and her companions. It is easy to see that Ageha has plenty of friends, but something about him always remains solitary.

MJ: You know, Anna, I think maybe that’s why the scene where he brings a smoke for Taro’s severed head affected me so strongly. It’s such an intimate moment, really, even though Taro’s gone. We don’t see Ageha showing that kind of personal vulnerability that often.

ANNA: He isn’t often shown that vulnerable, although he does seem to have an immense capacity to endure suffering in addition to his almost super-human personal magnetism. I think it all contributes to his mystique and the way everyone around Ageha responds to him as a larger than life character.

MICHELLE: This reminds me of something he thinks while incarcerated at Abashiri Prison. In order to protect Sarasa, he gives his body to the leader of the cell in which they’re placed. Sarasa is absolutely anguished about this. Ageha tells her to close her eyes and cover her ears, and then narrates, “From birth.. my tarot has been the “hanged man.” It is the card of sacrifice, ordeals, and unrequited love. Yeah, it’s dull. But you know what? You are worth it.”

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MJ: Even with all that tremendous mystique, I’ll admit that Ageha’s strong presence in Sarasa’s life actually came as a bit of a surprise to me. It’s Nagi who is the most influential early on, and it’s not that he’s exactly replaced by Ageha, but somehow Ageha comes to understand Sarasa the most thoroughly. In fact, the only person who I think comes close to the same level of understanding is Sarasa’s mother, who isn’t even with her for the bulk of the series.

I have a favorite scene between Sarasa’s mother and Shuri, in which she’s clearly figured out who Shuri is and tells him about her daughter. And it’s amazing how well she knows Sarasa, even though they’ve been separated for so long and though it seemed that Tatara was the focus of their parents’ attention before that. Her honest assessment of Sarasa in that scene reminds me of Ageha somehow, as though Ageha is in some way fulfilling her role in Sarasa’s life in her absence.

Well, her role, but with more killing. And maiming. Much more maiming.

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MICHELLE: Sarasa does liken him to a parent at one point!

ANNA: I feel like the discussion of maiming is a good jumping off point to discuss the great action scenes and set pieces in Basara. One of the reasons why I enjoy this series so much is because it invests a ton of emotion in action scenes.

MICHELLE: You’re so right, Anna. What springs to mind immediately is the incredibly intense battle in volume three between Chacha’s crew and the Red King’s forces, who appear to have them surrounded. A desperate yet determined Sarasa stealthily swims through the king’s fleet (using a shark for camouflage at one point), boards a third party’s ship, and then uses their cannon to blow the fleet to smithereens. This is all very exciting, and a huge victory for Tatara, but amidst the carnage, Sarasa spots the silhouettes of soldiers suffering and dying in flames. “Those are red demons,” she tries telling herself. “The red demons that destroyed my village.” But that doesn’t stop her tears from flowing, and from this point on, she’s always cognizant that even her enemies have loved ones that will mourn their passing.

MJ: That’s one of my favorite battle scenes as well, Michelle. Another pretty spectacular sea battle is later in volume nineteen, in which Tatara’s army has reached such a desperate point that they have no choice but to blow up their own ship—one which has become home to so many of their people. It’s an incredibly tense battle, involving enemy armies and a group of assassins who have been sent to kill Tatara. I’m not always big on manga battles, because I often find them difficult to follow, but even with so much going on, Tamura leads us through so expertly. As a result, it’s both exciting and extremely moving on a number of levels. The sinking of the Suzaku flagship feels both tragic and somehow freeing—like it was one last comfort necessary to cast off in order for Tatara’s comrades to be free.

ANNA: I think Tamura always does a great job at making the battles emotionally meaningful and a demonstration of character development. Sarasa learns with each confrontation, and how people fight tells the reader something essential about their personalities.

MJ: At first when you brought up the action scenes in particular, Anna, I thought I would have trouble coming up with favorites, because I’m such an emotionally-driven reader. But as you say, the battles in Basara are so emotionally meaningful, they are really completely essential to my experience with the series and so many of the things about it I hold dear.

Do you have a favorite scene of your own? Or a favorite set piece?

ANNA: There are so many great action scenes that the favorites that come to mind are likely to just be centered around whatever volumes I’ve read recently. That being said, I think the scenes when Sarasa is trapped in prison in volumes 11-12 are particularly harrowing and claustrophobic. I’ve just finished rereading volumes 13-16, and the battle in volume 14 where Sarasa and Shuri confront each other as Tatara and the Red King is particularly devastating emotionally. You can see them work through the psychological blocks they inadvertantly inacted about each other’s identity, and they are both just utterly destroyed by their new knowledge finding out that the person they love is their hated enemy. Seeing Sarasa slip into a fugue state as she forces out the commands to kill the Red King made me wonder if this was a blow she’d be able to recover from.

Also, my favorite action scenes would also be anything featuring Ageha, since he is so fabulous.

KAREN: Tamura has the sort of art that works so well for action scenes – its very fluid and lively, but she still manages to make it all personal. These are the characters we’ve grown to care about, after all. The action scene in particular that stands out to me is the battle where Sarasa and Shuri realize who the other is – the battle is rising and then there’s this stunning, shattering confrontation in the middle of it. So much action, but there’s an amazing, emotional heart to it all.

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MJ: Anna and Karen, I’m so glad you brought that particular scene up, because I thought of it as well, and I just wasn’t sure how to talk about it. Because what’s so stunning about it is that confrontation you mention—the sudden inaction in the middle of all this action. Everything comes to a complete halt, with the on-screen action matching perfectly the emotional state of the two leads. There, in the midst of their passionate rage, they see each other and their worlds just… stop.

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This is something we encounter often in romantic fiction, where two lovers (or soon-to-be lovers) spot each other across a crowded room and their hearts stop and everything else suddenly falls away. Except that convention is nearly always used to illustrate something wonderful—that heart-stopping recognition of true love, the spontaneous creation of a slow-motion universe of two. But in this case, Tamura does something very similar to illustrate two hearts shattering to pieces over that recognition. Everything else falls away, but the universe they’re left with—that universe of two—is the worst thing they can imagine.

MICHELLE: One thing I especially love about the way Tamura has structured her story is that we are privy to how painful this is for both of them. It’s not just the heroine realizing that the one she loves is her enemy, who has dealt her many personal blows. She has also dealt him many personal blows, killing Shido and putting the final nail in the coffin for Suo, the city he and Shido planned together and loved so much.

MJ: Well said, Michelle! I was thinking in particular about that scene that I really appreciated that they were *both* completely ruined by the realization of who they really were. I half expected one of them to attack anyway—to be enraged by the revelation rather than ruined. That they both broke down so completely not only felt entirely refreshing, but it also added depth to the love scene earlier in the volume. It made it clear that their love was real to both of them, and not something that even hate could overcome.

ANNA: I also loved the aftermath of the scene where Asagi is saving Shuri for further torment and he becomes more and more frustrated with Shuri’s utter indifference to him. It was a small moment of comedy after some very emotional events.

MICHELLE: Tamura is positively wonderful at including small moments of levity amidst serious goings-on! I adore the little background reunions between Kagero (Ageha’s owl) and his son, Shinbashi, every time their two humans meet up, for example.

And there’s another memorable gag in volume fourteen right in the middle of Nachi’s tense espionage mission. Not only is he attempting to recover someone’s body so that he may be buried alongside the woman he loved, but he’s also been tasked with sabotaging the palace’s well. While skulking about he comes across Nakijin, Shuri’s Okinawan ally, and they both immediately are stricken by the resemblance of the other’s hair to a pineapple. This is funny enough on its own, but it happens again in a few pages and still elicits giggles.

I also love the sidebar profile for King Ukon where someone off-panel is hurling a rock at him. I think Tamura-sensei and I must be on the same wavelength, humor-wise.

ANNA: I think the little flashes of humor is one thing that keeps the series from seeming long or tedious, even though it stretches across many volumes.

KAREN: I really like Shinbashi – and sometimes his bits are taking place in the background, as if Shinbashi is having his own epic adventure as well. Tamura also does some great side-panels and her “Tam-Tam Time” is really wacky stuff. The extra gag stories are also worth reading – she clearly loves her characters but also loves to mess with them – the high-school and singing contest re-imaginations were a lot of fun.

The other running gag I liked was Shuri’s “bird mouth” moments, which his daughter seems to have inherited.

MJ: I’ll admit that I often skip gag strips in series like these, because I’m usually anxious to get to the next volume and I hardly ever find them funny anyway. But like Hiromu Arakawa (again? I really didn’t expect Fullmetal Alchemist to come up at all in this roundtable, let alone twice—heh) Yumi Tamura is actually funny.

KAREN: MJ, I got a very Hiromu Arakawa vibe in her off-story panels/pages as well. I tended not to skip because unlike other extra stories, I needed the palate-cleanser of offbeat humor some of the dramatic and heart-breaking places where each volume left off.

MICHELLE: I think this may be my cue to unleash the torrent of squee I’ve been holding in: I freaking love Shinbashi SO MUCH. Even though there’s been plenty of horrible things happening since the beginning of the series, the first scene to truly make me bawl happens in volume eleven. Sarasa, Ageha, and Asagi are on their way to Abashiri Prison and when Shinbashi objects to the treatment they receive, he gets thrown out of the cart just as it’s beginning to snow. He can’t fly yet, and we get several just awful pages of Sarasa’s anguish as she pleads for the driver to stop.

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Ageha attempts to bolster her spirits, but we don’t see Shinbashi again for a couple of volumes.

When we do, he can fly and has a new home. Sarasa acknowledges that it would probably be better for him to stay there, but he rejoins her and her reaction of pure unadulterated joy at his return is quite literally making me tear up right now just thinking about it.

MJ: Oh, Michelle, YES. I kind of lost my mind with grief when Shinbashi was lost in that volume, even though I felt that it was very likely we’d see him again. And his eventual reunion with Sarasa… GAH. I think you and I had very similar reactions to all of this. In general, I love that fact that Shinbashi is so much a part of everything—even in the love scene I mentioned earlier, he’s around, barely avoiding getting smushed in all the excitement. It means a lot to me that he’s so important.

MICHELLE: Me, too. I mean, in a way, it’s like he didn’t just return to/for Sarasa but chose to be part of the rebellion rather than seize his chance at a cushy life. Like Karen says, he’s having his own epic adventure, too! There’s a great page in volume fourteen too, where he’s just returned from his first solo messenger assignment, then flies back to Sarasa’s side wearing the most adorably determined expression.

ANNA: I think that Shinbashi is the most fully realized animal sidekick that I’ve seen in manga, in terms of him having a distinct personality and adding an essential layer to the story.

KAREN: Anna, I agree with you about how nice it is to have a useful animal sidekick. For communication purposes alone that’s a great contribution – like all of Sarasa’s other allies he’s very useful and, as Michelle pointed out, chose to be there.

MJ: This may sound a bit random, but you know I’ve had Harry Potter on the brain lately, and in some way having Shinbashi around, being so wonderfully written, has helped me get over my seemingly never-ending grief over the death of Hedwig. I never knew I had such a thing for owls, but there it is.

MICHELLE: You are not alone. I thought of Hedwig, too. Of course, now you’re making me ponder which characters in Basara match to which characters in Harry Potter, but while some fit, I think most probably don’t.

MJ: Ha! Well, I’ve already talked at length about Asagi and Draco Malfoy, but I hadn’t really thought further about anyone else. Well, maybe the White King as Voldemort? Though she’s a lot more sympathetic than Voldemort ever is.

MICHELLE: Hayato as Ron? Ageha as Lupin? These are just off the top of my head, but maybe. I guess Nagi and Kaku could be Dumbledore and Hagrid? Hee.

MJ: Ageha’s such a badass, maybe he’s Remus and Sirius all rolled up into one.

KAREN: off-topic, but when mentioning other fantasy franchises, every time Masunaga popped up I totally got a Lee Pace-as-Thranduil-in-The Hobbit image going on, and now I can’t shake it – I think it’s the eyebrows combined with an odd headdress that did that to me.

MJ: I love that imagery, Karen! I don’t know that I had many major fantasy references spring to mind while reading (other than what I mentioned already) though I did at one point mentally compare the fake Blue King to Joffrey Baratheon.

MICHELLE: I guess we ought to try to wrest ourselves back on to Basara itself. One question I wanted to put to the group is pretty broad… do you personally have any favorite scenes that have not been mentioned so far?

MJ: There are a thousand moments in the series proper that I love with my whole heart—too many to even sift through, really. But for some reason, my mind keeps bringing me back to one of the side stories in the final volume called “Black Story: Cherry.” It’s a bit of backstory involving Masunaga and Tamon, two of the characters we first met in the Abashiri Prison arc. Both were among four boys chosen as potential wielders of the Genbu sword—one of the four swords passed down through generations that become central to Sarasa’s quest for allies to join her rebellion.

The four are sent into ceremonial test to see which of them is worthy to inherit the sword. Masunaga is frustrated that Tamon—by far the best sword fighter among them—lacks the aggression required for a warrior, but when the get into the test, it’s only Tamon who is able to see that “foes” they are fighting are actually each other. In the end, he is given the Genbu sword, which as it turns out, is made of bamboo.

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Partly, I like this story because I like gentle Tamon, who wants nothing more than to spend his days fishing. But I also like the Genbu sword as a symbol—as a warning against the thirst for blood that consumed the original sword and its wielder.

ANNA: For me really most of the scenes in volume 25 that concluded the story were incredibly effective. The last time we see Ageha, Sarasa’s final choice, all of it added up to a tremendously satisfying ending.

MICHELLE: I mentioned before about scenes between supporting characters being fascinating, and one relationship that I just could not get enough of was the one that developed between General Kazan and Chigusa, Sarasa’s mother. Shortly after Chigusa was captured (and subsequently abused by the Red King’s men), she comes under Kazan’s protection. He’s clearly in awe of her beauty and dignity, and she lives for a time as his guest, unbeknownst to the Red King. Asagi sees to it that this secret eventually comes out, and though Shuri gives Kazan several chances to claim that this apparent treachery was all a clever ruse, loyal Kazan refuses to take the offered way out, because doing so would sully his feelings for Chigusa. Chigusa is stunned. Despite what Kazan did to her son, he’s still clearly an honorable man. I just love that so much.

I’m also haunted by a particularly indelible sequence of pages at the end of volume 22, but I’m not going to spoil them!

KAREN: It’s hard to pick just one! But if I must… it would be from volume 16, where Sarasa finally meets with her mother again after so long. I’m glad that Michelle mentioned Chigusa and Kazan, I think that experience gave her some of the wisdom that she was able to use to counsel her daughter. “I can’t do it… I can’t hate anyone anymore.”

It took other people to bring Sarasa back from the shock of finding out that Shuri was the Red King – as I mentioned before, Ageha, but her mother is able to bring her some peace yet gives her permission to feel the pain she’s been carrying. Only after she lets go of the pain and guilt that she bears, Sarasa is not just functional again – she is able to articulate her vision of the Japan she’s fighting for – and she’s also able to want to see Shuri again, to see what his dreams are for Japan. It’s the first step in reconciling Shuri as the Red King, her lover and her enemy, which will all lead up to the final battle and its outcome, as we will see in volume 25. That ending couldn’t have been as satisfying and justified without the groundwork being laid – in this case, with simple acts of compassion to dying men on a frozen mountain.

MJ: Another scene that springs to mind comes near the end of the series. Tatara has brought her army into a final battle with the Red King, who appears to be fighting on behalf of the royal family. She’s been confused the entire time, though, because Shuri’s been fighting in an oddly extravagant manner—with showy effects, expensive equipment—even a freaking elephant. Finally, as the battle reaches its climax, Shuri reveals that he’s deliberately collected all the wealth and old relics of the royal regime to be destroyed in battle.

What’s spectacular to me about this scene, is that it simultaneously demonstrates Shuri’s new commitment to a different way of life for the people of Japan, while also showcasing his still-enormous pride. Shuri’s so proud of himself for pulling this off right under the noses of the aristocracy, he practically radiates it. I just love the fact that Tamura was careful not to change his personality regardless of his shift in political philosophy.

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Thank you so much, Anna and Karen, for joining us in this discussion! And thank you, Michelle, for inspiring me to working to collect all these volumes. I expected to love Basara, but I’m not sure I was prepared for just how much I’d love it. I finished the last volume just a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve wanted nothing more than to start from the beginning and read it all again.

I dearly hope that Viz will be able to offer this series digitally someday soon, but I simply have to say that if you’re a manga fan, a fantasy fan, a or even just a fan of extraordinary storytelling, it’s worth trying to hunt down all 27 print volumes. It’s that good.

All images © Yumi Tamura/Shogakukan, Inc. New and adapted artwork and text © Viz Media. Color images from the Basara Postcard Calendar Book. This article was written for the Yumi Tamura Manga Moveable Feast. Check out Tokyo Jupiter for more!

More full-series discussions with MJ & Michelle:

Full-series multi-guest roundtables: Hikaru no Go | Banana Fish | Gerard & Jacques | Flower of Life

Fanservice Friday: Draco Malfoy & the Blue King

May 24, 2013 by MJ 18 Comments

(Warning: This article contains major spoilers for Yumi Tamura’s Basara and J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series.)

Confession time: Some of you may have gleaned this from our fanfiction roundtable a couple of years ago, but I’ll admit it plainly now. I was a fan of Draco Malfoy—not so much the Draco Malfoy that J.K. Rowling actually ended up writing, but the Draco Malfoy I thought she was writing, all the way up until the final book in the series.

It was all incredibly clear, you see. This spoiled, fair-haired, delicate flower whose life of privilege had turned him into a bigoted, arrogant bully was the polar opposite of hero Harry—slick on the outside and twisted within, smart and talented, but taught to lie and cheat and cry to daddy whenever anything went wrong. He was Harry’s negative image. When, early on in volume five, the highly revered (but generally reticent) Sorting Hat chose to sing a song to the Hogwarts student body, warning them that the four houses of Hogwarts must unite or crumble from within, that meant that somehow the brave Gryffindors and ambitious Slytherins must learn to work together, and who better to serve as the catalyst for that but Draco Malfoy?

Obsessed with Harry from the beginning and eternally offended by Harry’s refusal to take his hand, it seemed obvious that Draco Malfoy was the key to heeding the Hat’s warning. And when, in the sixth book, Draco came face-to-face with the real terror of the Dark Lord—reduced to crying in a haunted bathroom over his horrifying plight—finally humanized in his darkest moments—Rowling’s plan seemed to be firmly underway. (I once wrote that Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was my favorite Harry/Draco fanfic of 2005, and I wasn’t really joking.) As a result, not only would Hogwarts and the entire wizarding world be saved, but both Draco and Harry would have learned to be better people—people who could tolerate and even embrace their differences and use them to their best advantage.

Except that wasn’t Rowling’s plan. At all. Because apparently what the Hat really meant was “the four houses except Slytherin,” so in the brave students’ moment of glory, the Slytherins were sent to the dungeons and Draco Malfoy slunk off in a cowardly, shameful fashion with his cowardly, shameful parents to live a cowardly, shameful life.

I was devastated, honestly. I mean, I’d managed to weather the senseless death of a favorite character, the cruel murder of an owl, and some of the worst romantic dialogue ever written, but I just couldn’t believe that Rowling had squandered a character she seemed to have put so much work into. And was the Hat just singing for its health? WTF, J.K. Rowling? My Draco, he was gone.

Then, I met Asagi.

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It’s important to note that Asagi is actually talking about himself in this panel. Though known to the public (and even to the so-called Blue King himself) as the leader of the Blue King’s guard, it’s Asagi—first introduced in volume four of Yumi Tamura’s epic shoujo fantasy, Basara—who is actually the Blue King, pulling all the strings from behind the scenes. He’s proud of himself and his cunning, and extraordinarily arrogant, but when, after the false Blue King’s fall, he joins up with rebel leader Tatara (with the intention to ruin both Tatara and their mutual enemy, the Red King) the cracks in his shiny, shiny armor begin to show.

Thanks to his proximity to the story’s heroine, Sarasa, and her love interest, Shuri, during the Blue King’s horrifying “race,” along with a little inside knowledge (the Red King is his younger brother, after all), Asagi is the first person in the story to become aware that Sarasa and Shuri are, in fact, Tatara and the Red King—sworn enemies in love with each other—so his initial plans revolve around trying to control the circumstances under which they will discover this (and be discovered) in order to ensure maximum damage to both sides.

In the meantime, he connives and wheedles. He plots to create conflicts within Tatara’s camp. He sexually harasses Sarasa by skulking around her bedroom and stealing a kiss from her when she’s lost her eyesight. He’s a hateful menace in every way. He even cackles with glee like a freaking supervillain.

No, seriously. Check it out. —>

There’s no romanticizing Asagi. He’s a vicious brat whose lifelong jealousy of his hotshot little brother has consumed him to the point that, not only is he intent on being hurtful to others, he’s simultaneously hurting himself by letting his own issues render him a pawn in the game of someone who doesn’t even really care about him all that much. He’s acting on the White King’s orders, but to his own peril, as she’s really only using him to achieve her own revenge.

Any of this sounding familiar?

It was just a few days ago, while working on our upcoming Basara roundtable, that I realized… Asagi is the Draco Malfoy I thought J.K. Rowling was writing. And wow am I glad to see him at long last.

I said there’s no romanticizing Asagi, and I meant it. He’s not a romantic figure at all. Unlike Ageha, whose dignity and good faith in the face of great suffering frame him as a truly heroic and romantic supporting character, Asagi is small and petty and difficult to care about. But, like most of us, it’s Asagi’s weakness that is ultimately his undoing, and fortunately it’s undoing that Asagi needs most.

I said in the Basara roundtable that Asagi’s whole character could be essentially boiled down to a single desire: “to have someone—anyone—just one person love him best.” I do think that’s true, but it’s probably oversimplified. Yes, Asagi wants someone to love him, but perhaps more specifically, he wants someone to believe that he’s worthwhile. For all his arrogance, Asagi’s greatest weakness is his own self-esteem, which is so low and so twisted up by years of outside manipulation that when Sarasa does something really wacky like trust him with something important, it throws him completely for a loop.

Sarasa, of course, has no idea what she’s done, but the results speak for themselves.

That’s how you write a hero—in this case, Sarasa—and how you write a Draco Malfoy (or, in this case, Asagi). Let the hero take a freaking chance on him, in genuine good faith, and give him the thing he most needs in order to begin to believe in himself.

Asagi muses above on the fact that the fake Blue King (the “Serpent King”) had trusted him and wonders why this feels different. The difference of course, is that what he had with the Serpent King wasn’t trust at all. It was dependence, for sure, and perhaps some sense of loyalty, but the Serpent King didn’t so much trust him as need him, and that’s not the same thing. Like love, trust is something given freely and in good faith, and counting on someone because they’re bound to serve and protect you isn’t actually the same thing.

As the story goes on, Sarasa proves that her trust also comes with attentive care and affection. And I kinda love the fact that, here, she pretty much acknowledges straight out that he’s a delicate flower.

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Asagi is nothing if not a master of self-deception, and he spends most of the series after he joins up with Tatara explaining carefully to anyone connected to the White King that he is definitely not starting to believe in Tatara or care about her or her cause. Meanwhile, he’s pretty definitely falling in love with her (or something that looks a hell of a lot like love) and learning what it’s like to actually have someone to protect whom he can trust to protect him in return.

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It’s starting to sound a lot like I ‘ship Asagi with Sarasa (Tatara), isn’t it? And I’d be lying if I said it had never crossed my mind. After all, I ‘shipped Draco with Harry all those years, and that’s where I’ve been going with this entire post, haven’t I? The truth is, though, seeing where Asagi and Tatara’s relationship goes in Basara actually makes me think that I’d rather have seen Harry and Draco become real friends more than anything else. Because even if I occasionally harbored thoughts of Sarasa throwing over Shuri (who, let’s face it, isn’t all that much better a catch, at least not early on, and if she’s not going to fall for Ageha… well, there’s no helping her) for Asagi, and certainly that’s what Asagi would like to have happen, I think what Asagi needs more than anything is a friend—someone who won’t fall out of love with him or become complicated in any way—just a friend who can teach him what that even means. And Sarasa is so beautifully, perfectly that, I think it’s ultimately best for both of them.

The following is one of my favorite scenes in the entire series. It’s emotionally riveting, intense, and one of the best examples of why Tamura-sensei’s realization of this character is so much better than anything J.K. Rowling’s ever done. So much so, that I’m blown away every time I read it as though I’ve never seen it before in my life.

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The emotional impact of that scene is only topped by this one, in which Tamura shows us Sarasa’s face and only the back of Asagi’s head for the entire exchange. And that back of the head says everything. It’s brilliantly drawn and precisely in tune with both their characters. Obviously there’s a lot more going on in an epic series like Basara besides a whole slew of intimacy porn between the heroine and one supporting character, but if you know me, you know that’s my fanservice.

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I could go on and on. I would go on and on, but the truth is that I so hope that Viz will eventually be able to give this series a digital release, and I don’t want to give everything away (the scene leading up to the last few pages I shared here is one of the most intense and emotionally resonant of the series—and with this series, that’s saying a lot). Suffice it to say that with a character like Asagi, written by someone as thoughtful and brilliant as Yumi Tamura, things are going to be complicated all the way through the end.

Some part of me still wishes that J.K. Rowling had followed through on her promises for Draco. Another realizes that she never could have written him as well as did Yumi Tamura.

All images © Yumi Tamura/Shogakukan, Inc. New and adapted artwork and text © Viz Media. This article was written for the Yumi Tamura Manga Moveable Feast. Check out Tokyo Jupiter for more!

Off the Shelf: Angel Sanctuary, MMF Edition

April 21, 2013 by MJ and Michelle Smith 8 Comments

MICHELLE: Hey, MJ! When two angels meet, what do they say to each other?

MJ: Well, judging from the title we’re reading this week, something like, “Die, die, DIE!”?

MICHELLE: The punchline is technically “Halo!,” but I admit that your suggestion is much more appropriate!

I can’t remember whose turn it is to summarize, but I have a feeling you’ll do a great job with Angel Sanctuary, so want to give it a go?

MJ: I’ll do my best!

So, this month’s Manga Moveable Feast is dedicated to the works of Kaori Yuki, an artist whose work I’d had essentially no exposure to at all before the past few days. Though most of her existing work in English was published before I became a manga fan, Viz Media’s new practice of re-releasing older shoujo series in digital form has suddenly made one of them easily available. As Michelle has already indicated, that series is Angel Sanctuary, currently being released at VizManga.com.

Angel Sanctuary begins with the story of Setsuna Mudo, a scrappy high school student with a reputation for fighting, though his weakness as a fighter is that he falls asleep at the sight of blood. His other, greater weakness is that he harbors strong feelings of romantic love for his younger sister, Sara—feelings that she unfortunately returns in kind, which is a source of deep shame for them both.

As it turns out, Setsuna is actually the reincarnation of Alexiel, a powerful angel who long ago rebelled against the growing cruelty of the angelic realm, following the disappearance of God. Alexiel was ultimately defeated and sentenced to be reincarnated into misery, over and over again, but not before sealing away her twin brother, Rosiel, who had led the fight against her.

Though Alexiel has never retained memories from one reincarnation to the next, she’s been protected through all of them by a demon-like personage who makes agreements with humans to carry out their deepest wishes in return for taking control of their mortal bodies to keep himself in Alexiel’s company. In Setsuna’s lifetime, this demon lives in the body of Sakuya Kira, Setsuna’s oldest friend and protector.

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Meanwhile, Rosiel’s faithful seek to awaken him from exile by way of a video game called “Angel Sanctuary,” which sacrifices the lives of the humans who play it in order to gather the power required to return Rosiel to corporeal form. This quest is led by Katan, a former lower being who was elevated to angelic status by Rosiel back during the height of his power.

MICHELLE: Nicely done! (Of course, the backstory doesn’t come out nearly as cleanly or clearly in the actual manga, but after a first volume that is, frankly, somewhat of a mess, the pacing for these revelations improves a good deal.)

After tainting himself by taking innocent human life, Katan is dismayed to find that Rosiel, whom he had hoped would end an ongoing power struggle in Heaven, is insane (and probably always has been) and obsessed with tormenting Setsuna to the point that Alexiel awakens, so that he might kill her.

Meanwhile, Kurai and Arachne—two demon survivors formerly protected by Alexiel—also seek the awakening, but for different reasons. This is complicated when Kurai falls in love with Setsuna, since he would cease to exist if Alexiel were to return.

MJ: I’d actually like to return to your parenthetical point up there, because this is really a pretty big deal. After all, I think we both originally thought we’d simply stop after the first excruciating volume, and it was only duty that pushed me on further, at which point I discovered that the story really does get going at long last. Before that, Angel Sanctuary is, to use your words at the time, “quite the slog.”

Unfortunately, some fairly crucial revelations (in terms of making this story work at all) are withheld until the third volume—I’m thinking particularly of the truth about Alexiel’s painful reincarnations. Up until that point, Setsuna and Sara’s agonizing love story feels more like some kind of authorial fetish rather than a meaningful plot point, and given that this is one of the most important relationships in the series, I think this contributed greatly to the “slog” impression, at least on my part. Admittedly, I’m also vastly more interested in the relationships and general character development than I am in the series’ complicated angel mythology, so perhaps this affected me more strongly than it might others, but damn. A little explanation earlier on would have gone a long way towards compelling me forward with something approaching enthusiasm. As it is, I crawled my way to volume three with hands and knees increasingly bloodied. It was not pleasant.

MICHELLE: My experience was quite the same. I don’t have exact quotes to hand, but something about Yuki-sensei’s author-talk columns gave me the feeling that she was congratulating herself for her audaciousness for tackling the subject of incest, so that put me off somewhat. And I have almost no interest in angel power struggles at any time, so hard-to-decipher angel power struggles are even less compelling. This ties in with what I think is the chief flaw of Angel Sanctuary in the early chapters—information overload, before we’ve had time to get to know or care about these characters.

There’s a telling note at the end of volume two, actually, where Yuki-sensei writes:

When someone says, “If you take this part slowly, there’ll be more feeling.” I have to reply, “But this chapter needs to go up to this part of the storyline.” And so, I cut out some, but it’s not enough, so I end up taking out sappy dialogue.

I think she should’ve listened to those people a bit more! Not that I necessarily want more sappy dialogue, but taking things more slowly might’ve, for example, allowed readers to be able to see Sara as her own person—someone who turns out to be stronger and more interesting than I initially expected—before focusing on how she and Setsuna are in love with each other.

MJ: Yes, exactly. I was surprised to find that, by the end of the third volume, I was actually beginning to care about their relationship. And that in itself should be surprising, because it’s the kind of relationship I normally would find compelling from the start, if I cared about the characters in the slightest. It’s worth noting that amidst the recent spate of fanservice-laden, incest-themed moe titles we’ve been seeing, Satsuna and Sara’s plight reads as particularly poignant. It’s never played for laughs, it’s genuinely heartbreaking—it’s got classic romantic tragedy written all over it. It’s more Flowers in the Attic than I Don’t Like You At All, Big Brother!! and I’ll admit I ate that series up with a spoon when I was a teen.

(click images to enlarge)

MICHELLE: And though it may be tragic, it’s not as if the characters are playing at a bit of drama. One of the first scenes that got me interested in Sara occurs early in volume two, when Rosiel’s flunky has distributed pictures that look as if Setsuna and Sara are kissing, and she’s been called in to the office at her school. The nun lectures, “Feelings of love between brother and sister belong only to silly, spoiled girls who have fantasies of being some tragic heroine.” Sara’s internal denials of this were what, for the first time, made me realize that she truly was equally serious in her love for Setsuna.

And thankfully, despite the shaky start, I did come to care about other relationships in the series, too. I have a great deal of sympathy for Katan, for example, who sacrificed much for Rosiel’s sake, only to be cast aside for not being obedient enough. And then there’s Kira, who was the one bright spot early on and who continues to be fascinating, as he at first denies that he could possess any affection for Setsuna the “mere human,” but eventually must acknowledge that the merger with his human host has rendered him capable of love.

MJ: I agree—both the relationships you mention here end up being very compelling, and I’d like to discuss them both, too. Let’s start with Katan and Rosiel, because it’s one that gets fleshed out a bit earlier than the others, I think. What I find most heartbreaking here are Katan’s realizations over the course of the first few volumes, because he really is so loyal. He sees Rosiel as a true savior, and is utterly devastated when he finally realizes that, with the exception of himself, Rosiel has acquired all his devoted followers by using some kind of magic capsule to turn them into mind-controlled puppets. I found it particularly interesting that it wasn’t just the discovery of Rosiel’s means that horrified Katan, but specifically that Rosiel resorted to this method when many of his puppets actually had been truly loyal to Rosiel before they were turned. The fact that Rosiel was unwilling to trust that he could lead by appealing to others’ free will seemed to be what really upset Katan.

Then, of course, when Rosiel reveals that he’s not even willing to trust Katan‘s long-proven loyalty, it’s like a dagger to the heart.

MICHELLE: I genuinely loved that reveal about Rosiel’s army, both for the emotional impact on Katan but because it also sparked a tiny glimmer of interest in the angel power struggle. Katan’s dismissal made me wonder—and you’ve read farther than I have, so you might know the answer to this—whether he might eventually defect to the other side and help to defeat Rosiel.

MJ: You are *so* right. After endless pages of wordy exposition filled with names like “Raziel,” “Zaphikel,” and “Sandalphon,” and who’s who in the angelic hierarchy, having a little genuine intrigue and, for lack of a better word, humanity thrown in the mix was a lifesaver. I think this whole thing, including the realization that Rosiel has genuinely gone mad, also helps to make all the characters sympathetic in some way, which is a big deal for me, honestly. I’ve never really been interested in epic stories of good vs. evil (because I don’t really believe in the purity of either one), so the more Yuki grays things up, the better. I like things messy, in every way possible.

It’s this kind of nuance that really makes Kira’s story shine as well. We’re only just beginning to understand his true nature, but one thing that has become central to the story in volumes three and four is his own realization that he’s developed human attachments, and what that means for everyone involved. I was incredibly moved by scenes featuring Kira’s human father, who could not learn to hate his son, even after finding out that the Kira he’d raised from age eleven on wasn’t even his son at all. Some of this may come after the point you’ve read to, but oh, Michelle, it’s some of the best writing in the whole series so far.

MICHELLE: I agree entirely about the scenes between Kira and his father, in which we learn that Kira has been behaving awfully in an attempt to cause this man to abandon his love for his son in preparation of a time when Kira no longer needs that body, and he ends up dying for real, this time. (All of which is at the request of the original Sakuya, with whom demon!Kira is seemingly able to hold conversations.)

Honestly, with supporting characters like Katan and Kira around, I pretty much don’t give a flying flip about Rosiel and Alexiel’s conflict and drama. Perhaps Yuki-sensei will be able to make me care about that, as she was eventually able to do with some other plot elements.

MJ: It’s true, the whole Rosiel vs. Alexiel story is the least interesting thing to me in this entire series, at least by the end of volume four. Which is not to say that I have no interest in them as characters, but despite the fact that they are holding on to this old rivalry so tightly, it’s really their relationships with the other characters that make them who they are in the present. I suppose this is the real tragedy that only the reader can see, and perhaps that’s even something Yuki-sensei is trying to show us—that if Rosiel, especially, could put aside the thirst for power that drove him mad in the first place, and actually recognize the real love and loyalty available to him, vengeance might lose its urgency. I suppose this really is just a lesson for Rosiel, as it seems clear that Alexiel actually prefers to be Setsuna than herself. An early scene that caught my attention is one between Alexiel and Kurai, in which Alexiel admits she’d like to be reborn as a man.

Actually, gender, and particularly unhappiness with one’s biological gender, is an ongoing theme in this series. And while there are some fairly problematic elements in Yuki’s discussion of the subject, there’s so much discussion that it’s difficult to dismiss it all as the usual heteronormative manga gender-bending. It’s difficult to smash the gender binary in English, because we’re so dependent on gender-specific pronouns, but at least one character refers to herself as a “third gender,” and Kurai, for example, manages to be much more nuanced than the typical “tom boy” characterization. So as weary as I get with the endless statements about women only needing to be beautiful and to be protected, there seems to be some deeper thought behind it all.

MICHELLE: Oh, yes, I meant to bring up those statements. I thought it was interesting that most of the lines like “A girl needs to be protected; only then will she be beautiful and gentle” and “Find yourself a guy who’ll protect you” come from one character: Alexiel. That made them a little easier to stomach, like these are her opinions for some reason—she also implies that if she had a man’s love, she might never have conflicted with the other angels—and not necessarily the mangaka’s. True, Setsuna idealizes Sara and believes she must be protected, but then Yuki-sensei shows us that Sara’s not so weak or oblivious, after all. So, I wasn’t as irked by those comments as I otherwise might have been. (But, y’know, still a little irked.)

MJ: I’ll be interested to see where that line of thinking goes as the series continues. I’d like to think that these are beliefs that Yuki-sensei is interested in proving wrong, but it would be foolish to get my hopes up too high on that point.

As I flip through the first few volumes, looking for accompanying artwork, I realize that there are a whole host of characters we haven’t brought up at all, and I have to believe that this is mainly because, so far, they’re really just a part of the whole angelic political turmoil, in which neither of us has the slightest interest. I think it’s quite telling that the characters we have discussed are the ones who have become important in other ways.

MICHELLE: I feel like probably we should talk about Ruri, Sara’s friend, but I really don’t have much to say about her, since we see her as her actual self only briefly. Really, her fate just falls under the “Rosiel schemes to torment Setsuna” heading. And we haven’t even mentioned the super supreme angelic being everyone’s so in awe of, because he simply has no impact on the story as a character. He just appears once and, like, reattaches Setsuna’s arm. (Sidebar: there is a fair amount of arm reattachment in this series.)

MJ: I’d actually be interested in reconvening our discussion sometime after you’ve read volume four, because that’s when the “super supreme angelic being” (aka “Adam Kadamon”) finally becomes something truly significant in the story. The beginning of volume four offers up revelations on most of the topics we have discussed as well, including Kira and his father, Rosiel and Katan, and even Setsuna and Sara, whose story only becomes more poignant as Setsuna finds that he must force himself awake from a dreamworld in which he and Sara are a run-of-the-mill high school boyfriend and girlfriend (no familial ties at all), coexisting happily with all of their friends. Everything comes to a head in the beginning of volume four, leading to the beginning of a new arc just a chapter or so in that I’m hoping will finally make the story’s supernatural politics into something meaningful.

MICHELLE: For all its stumbling at the beginning, I think I’m invested in Angel Sanctuary enough to continue with it, so I am amenable to that suggestion!

MJ: I look forward to it!

Volumes 1-5 of Angel Sanctuary are currently available at VizManga.com. For more of the Kaori Yuki Manga Moveable Feast, keep your eyes on The Beautiful World!

My Week in Manga: Moyoco Anno Edition

January 26, 2013 by MJ 4 Comments

This week’s episode is a special edition created for this month’s Manga Moveable Feast, the subject of which is mangaka Moyoco Anno. MJ discusses Anno’s work, including a review of the first two volumes of “Sugar Sugar Rune.”

This week’s manga:

Flowers & Bees (VIZ Media)
Happy Mania (Tokyopop)
Sakuran (Vertical, Inc.)
Sugar Sugar Rune, Vols. 1-2 (Del Rey Manga)

Links:

Moyoco Anno Manga Moveable Feast archive
MJ’s interview with Moyoco Anno at New York Comic Con 2012 (The Beat)
Off the Shelf: Sakuran

Edited by MJ
Music (“Stickybee,” “20/20,” “Insomnia,” & “Swansong”) by Josh Woodward

CLAMP MMF: Postscript

August 20, 2012 by MJ Leave a Comment

The CLAMP Manga Moveable Feast has been officially over for nearly a month. But at the time it was still in-progress, I received an invitation from Ed Sizemore to discuss CLAMP with some folks much, much smarter and more knowledgeable than I on his podcast, Manga Out Loud. The actual discussion took place about a week after the Feast, and it was just posted this past weekend.

Link: Episode #62- CLAMP MMF with Shaenon Garrity, William Flanagan, MJ, & Kate Dacey

The conversation was lively and very illuminating for me. I hope it will be for you, too!

A full archive for the CLAMP MMF may be found here.