Features & Reviews

By Yomi Hirasaka and Itachi. Released in Japan as “Boku wa Tomodachi ga Sukunai” by Media Factory, serialization ongoing in the magazine Comic Alive. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Ryan Peterson. Adapted by Ysabet Reinhardt McFarlane.

(Note: please do not post light novel spoilers in the comments.)

Most harem manga these days have to walk a very thin tightrope, especially in a modern, internet-forum friendly world. readers want the hero to end up with the girl they like best, and every time that things return to the status quo they are upset. Writers and editors want this to be successful for as long as possible, which means stringing things out and returning to status quo without making it look too obvious. With Haganai, the Neighbors Club has been the way to do this, as each of the cast is so socially inept that even basic interaction is a challenge, much less having a significant other. Or at least, that’s what Kodaka tells himself. In fact, Kodaka is very good at lying to himself and others, and the astute reader of Haganai has, through several books now, been feeling more and more like Rika, watching this play out and getting increasingly angry. This is the volume where that rage finally explodes.

This kicks off with a seeming resolution of the perpetual love triangle between Kodaka and the two female leads. Yes, there are more than two love interests, but at heart it’s always been about Yozora vs. Sena. More on Yozora later, but I felt that Sena’s confession was first rate. Yes, it started out as her seemingly talking to herself while gaming, as if practicing for later, but once she realizes what actually happened, she doesn’t back off. This makes a start contrast to Kodaka, who literally runs away as fast as possible and hides from the rest of the club for days. His desire for stasis has never been more contemptible than it is here, particularly given that he spends said days with the Student Council, the Neighbors’ Club’s mortal enemies. To his surprise, they don’t view him as a thug and a bad person, and we see just how much of Kodaka’s self-worth problems are his own doing.

Then comes the scene with Rika. (Yes, there’s a nice scene with Yukimura as well, but while it’s heartwarming, it’s all setup for that one gag. You know the one I mean.) Rika already confronted Kodaka last time about his perpetual “Huh? What was that?” response, and was seen to be barely holding it together. Now she explodes, and it’s glorious. Kudos to Itachi, by the way: the art in Haganai has frequently taken on a sketchy, exaggerated look at times, particularly when it’s funny, and it doubles down on that here, with some amazing faces that would not look out of place in a horror title. Rika beats the shit out of Kodaka (scientifically, of course) as she rants about what she learned from Sena. She’s absolutely right, of course. Of all the girls in the series, Sena has gotten twice the romantic subtext as anyone else. And he’s running away from this because he can’t face up to her actually liking him as more than a friend.

Haganai is caught up with Japan, so it will be many months before we see the next volume. But now that Rika and Kodaka have admitted hey are indeed friends, can he man up and listen to Sena? More importantly, what about Yozora, who seemingly heard this entire exchange, and whose devastated sobbing face ends this arc? The artist notes that the manga may be a bit different from the light novels, though it’s unclear if that means additions or actual changes. In any case, for those who were waiting for the payoff in Haganai, here’s where it starts.

By Reki Kawahara and Shimeji. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by ZephyrRz.

It is rather startling how little time the main events of The Isolator are taking place over. The eyes descended to Earth three months ago, despite the presence of what seems to be a long-standing secret organization dedicated to harnessing their power. It’s only been a day or two since the events of Book 2, as well, and this book also only takes a couple of days. And at the end, they’re discussing invading the enemy’s stronghold. I’m not sure how long Kawahara intends for this series to go, but I don’t think it’s meant to be that long. Though, given there’s an anime coming out this Winter, that may change if it gets popular enough. In any event, a new volume of The Isolator, and hey, a new cover girl.

Yes, after getting the first two covers to herself, Yumiko is forced to give way to Suu, who really should be invisible on the cover, but a) that would give the game away, and b) that would mean there is no cute girl on the cover. Yes, Suu us a teammate of the group who can turn herself invisible (with the exception of her pupils), and as with all the other characters, it stems from past personal trauma. I was wary of getting too attached to her – literally everything she did from the moment she showed up to her final sacrifice screamed “I am going to die so that the main guy can learn a valuable lesson”. Fortunately, she doesn’t quite die (though if Book 4 takes place right after 3, she may not appear much), but the lesson is still learned.

Minoru and Yumiko continue to be the stars of this book, thoguh Suu obviously steals Yumiko’s spotlight a bit, something she is keenly aware of – her discussion with Minoru about her jealousy is possibly the best hart-to-heart they’ve had so far. And Minoru continues to find new ways to use his talent, turning the ability to isolate yourself in an impenetrable sphere into an actual dangerous weapon. Which is good, because the new villain of the book we meet, Trancer, manages to get away along with his boss, who is more of an arc villain. (You can tell that we’re not done with Trancer as we still haven’t heard his tragic backstory beyond that apparently he has his childhood friend frozen in ice somewhere.)

The Isolator continues to have the same strengths and weaknesses the previous two books had. The strength is the action scenes which are really first rate – it’s a short novel, but the pacing is perfect, and there’s lots of cool superhero moves on display. The weakness continues to be that, despite best efforts to try to inject levity into the series at odd points, this is still the most straightfaced and serious of Kawahara’s books, and given the incipient tragedy at the back of everyone’s lives, it can get a bit depressing if the reader isn’t prepared for it.

I’m not sure where the series goes from here – the next volume isn’t scheduled in Japan yet, so it will likely be at least a year till we see it – but I’m still on board. I just wish we could add a goofy ditz or a perverted best friend or something to take the edge off.

By Various Artists, based on the manga created by Hitoshi Iwaaki. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Kumar Sivasubramanian

I have fond memories of Parasyte, despite never having actually read it. It was one of the first four titles that Tokyopop put out when it began, along with Sailor Moon, Magic Knight Rayearth, and the long forgotten Ice Blade. Unlike Ice Blade, Tokyopop actually finished the series, but it was always a sort of cult hit over here, known mainly for its odd sense of humor and its startling decapitations. I was pleased when Kodansha decided to release the updated Japanese version in 8 volumes, and that sold considerably better than the first time around, as the market was much better prepared for it. And now we have this anthology, which on the face of it is even more bizarre: taking a horror series that runs in a seinen magazine and giving it to various Japanese shoujo creators, to see what they make of it.

Of course, anyone who knows Japanese shoujo knows that they are very familiar with the horror genre. Indeed, some of the artists in this anthology are best known over here for their shoujo gore, such as Kaori Yuki, whose tale of a twisted love triangle and a spoiled princess would not feel out of place in her other works. Parasyte filled a number of niches, and this anthology does a very good job of showing off why people liked it. There’s actually very little pure horror, as for the most part the artists try to do their own thing. As you’d expect given the genre, there are quite a few high school romances in here, some tragic, some heartwarming, and some with a twist that is both predictable yet also startling – Parasyte’s stock in trade. Miki Rinno’s story of a genki girl whose mind has broken a bit by the slaughter of her family as well as a parasyte inside her is particularly good.

That said, I think it may be the humor that draws in readers, and there’s a lot of that. From a fujoshi who uses her Parasyte to pair up hot guys (by Ema Toyama, the author of Missions of Love), to Parasyte cooking shows and otome games, there’s a lot of simply having fun with the premise. And for those who wonder if it’s all original characters, fear not: Shinichi and Migi are sprinkled throughout the book. Indeed, the story by Mikimaki of Migi shifting himself into various shoujo girls may be the funniest in the book. And sometimes I laughed even when I may not have been supposed to – Asia Watanabe’s somewhat disturbing take of a young girl in the thralls of puberty and her teacher, a priest (both of whom harbor parasytes) features a dizzy blonde girl named Luna, and it’s impossible not to see her as Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter books.

So if you loved Parasyte, you’ll get a kick out of this book. But even if, like me, you never actually read the original, you may still find something here. The art is striking throughout, and there’s a lot of really good stories – I hadn’t even talked about the story by Kashio about a telepath who runs into a transfer student with a parasyte, which is tense and thrilling. I’d love to see more of these Anthologies from Western publishers.

By Mamare Touno and Kazuhiro Hara. Released in Japan by Enterbrain. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Taylor Engel.

While Log Horizon is well known for its large cast, and has featured chunks showing us the viewpoint of other characters, there’s no doubt about the fact that Shiroe is the star of the series. He’s the planner, the blackmailer, the one who achieves things for the best. And yes, he also dithers and frets, mostly due to his non-outgoing nature. Still, we’ve become fairly comfortable that a new volume will have us getting inside his head again. But this volume shakes things up a bit, as Shiroe (along with Naotsugu, I assume) is away for the entire volume, off on a secret mission. And with Krusty and his group also away on a mission, Akihibara is, with the exception of the harem leader Soujiro, almost entirely female this time around. And that’s definitely a good thing.

The lost child in the title is Akatsuki, who gets the bulk of the narrative this volume. She’s still reeling from the revelations from the last volume, and the absence of Shiroe is not helping matters. Akatsuki is naturally shy and introverted, and even though gaming is, as she’s said, a way to be something that isn’t yourself, now that they’re actually IN the game, it’s still hard for her to interact with others. And that’s actually affecting her growth as an adventurer as well – she’s never done raids, and so hasn’t gotten any of the elite weapons and other loot that drop only during those group activities. She knows this, but can’t move past that wall she’s achieved, and it’s coming out as a giant pile of self-hatred. Fortunately, Shiroe has asked her to watch over Reynesia, as have several other guilds, which leads her to be forced to interact with others. Less fortunately, a murderer has come along to force her to change or die.

Of course, Log Horizon doesn’t have permanent death, but they do lose memories. And death also hurts. And, well, the idea of an unstoppable killer walking around at night is just scary. The climax is the best part of this book, as we get to see a lot of the characters we’ve come to know over the last few books (as well as some new ones, like Rieze, one of the subcommanders of Krusty’s group showing off their strengths and also showing off the character development for Akatsuki: you need to be able to ask for help, and you need to be able to accept that help from others. Akatsuki learns that, and is rewarded by being the one who gets to deliver the final blow (as well as a really cool new sword, which is nice as well.) Meanwhile, Reynesia is busy learning the opposite message: sometimes you can’t push things off onto others, but you have to take responsibility yourself. She’s maturing into an excellent leader.

Those who watch the anime of this series may be a little startled. Not only is it only the Akatsuki plot, with Shiroe absent, but the anime added a lot of comedy and a lot of extra scenes (the book ends very abruptly with the end of the murderer – the anime expands on the mentioned pajama party afterwards). But that’s the benefit of different mediums. Those who enjoy Log Horizon’s action and drama but feel that sometimes it’s a bit TOO light-hearted can revel in the angst-ridden monologues many of the characters have here, most of which didn’t make it to the screen. I think next time we’ll find out what’s up with Shiroe and have a book from his perspective, minus the Akihibara crew. But for now let’s rejoice with Akatsuki.

By Kenya Suzuki. Released in Japan as “Oshiete! Gyaruko-chan” by Media Factory, serialization ongoing in the online site Comic Walker. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Jennifer McKeon. Adapted by Lianne Sentar.

As I’ve occasionally mentioned before, I am the opposite of most fans. Most fans, from what I gather, watch only anime, and seem rather surprised to find that a manga or light novel exist, and uninterested if they do find out. Whereas I read manga or light novels, and for the most part don’t really watch much anime at all anymore. On the bright side, this can lead to surprises. For example, this series, which I knew nothing about. At first the description made it sound fairly slice-of-lifey. However, as those who’d seen the anime know all too well, it has a lot of sex talk sprinkled throughout. This was what I discovered when I first started to read it, and my general thought was “oh dear, time to plow through this.” Luckily, as the volume went on, despite the sex talk Galko-chan proved to be more what I originally thought it would be.

The premise is light as air, as are the characters, who all have nicknames related to their specific stereotype (a flashback chapter shows it’s actually deliberate, which is amusing). Galko-chan is the titular character, a Gal in the Super Gals! vein, who is also possessed of very large breasts, which is actually one of the driving plot points as there are many discussions of said breasts. Galko-chan is not quite a 4-koma series, but it’s very much in the vein of such comedies, with little character introductions every single page offering little facts about each character. (Haruchi-chan’s manga has this as well). And because her best friends as Otako, a bookish girl who knows a lot about sex from reading about it and uses that to jump-start conversations, and Ojou, a young rich well-bred girl who’s described as an airhead but who I think is simply sheltered and goes along with any topic no matter what it is, sex comes up a lot.

Each page heading has a specific question that one would ask of high school teens, ranging from “Do friendly sisters borrow each other’s clothes a lot?” to “Is it true that intense exercise can break a girl’s hymen?”. Honestly, they’re more the latter than the former – be prepared for a lot of discussion of breasts, pubic hair, periods, labial size, etc. While this has the potential to be awful, it’s generally not, mostly as all three girls are, despite the saucy talk, really quite innocent – this isn’t even on the level of High School Girls. When not discussing sex, they do normal 4-koma things like go shopping, go to the pool, and worry about school, with the help of their other classmates, who get less attention but still have names that define their stereotype. They’re just… nice kids. Who talk about women’s bodies all the time.

I suspect those who dislike slice-of-life, ecchi stories, and 4-koma style humor already avoided this, but just in case, let me warm you it is all those things. (There isn’t much boke and tsukkomi style humor, though, which is a pleasant change.) It’s also in full color, and the colors are nicely chosen and artistically striking, and the faces are mostly also very good, though Ojou needs to stop having her default expression 90% of the time. This was a cute read, not as ecchi as you’d think t would be, and should please fans of the anime. Which I still have not seen.

By Yoshiki Tanaka. Released in Japan as “Ginga Eiyū Densetsu” by Tokuma Shoten. Released in North America by Haikasoru. Translated by Daniel Huddleston.

When we last checked in with this epic space opera, I was saying that this book would show us which direction the series was going to go, and I’m not sure that ended up being the case. Don’t get me wrong, this is an excellent book, with great battles and character examination, but at the end of 300-odd pages I am left with the feeling that not much has changed since we started. Except there are a lot more soldiers dead. Because above all else, Legend of the Galactic Heroes wants to tell us about the folly of war, specifically war for the sake of war. And it does this quite well, whether it be via Yang Wen-li having a long inner monologue about what history has taught us about the military or an evacuation order leading to the deaths of hundreds as panicking soldiers kill other panicking soldiers in their efforts to flee a doomed Death Star.

Of course, it’s not called a Death Star in the book, but a giant circular battle station that functions as a planetoid for its inhabitants is going to make one think of Star Wars, especially as Japan released this volume in 1984, when that sort of thing was at its height. The plot that kicks off this volume is an ambitious technical general coming up with the idea of building a 2nd Death Star, warping it into position, and then fighting it out with Iserlohn, the old one currently occupied by Yang and his Republic forces. It’s an all-or-nothing plan, and normally Siegfried would be around to try to talk Reinhard into being more sensible. But Siegfried is dead, and while Reinhard is trying to do his best to imagine what the young man would recommend to him (we see this later when he spares the life of another young general), he’s still not very good at it, and spends most of the book unemotionally doing his job and closing himself off from most human contact.

Reinhard and Yang are usually compared and contrasted, and Yang also spends a good deal of this book cut off from his allies. Not by his own design, though, as the Republic have called him in for “a court of inquiry”, which is different from a court martial in that they don’t have to tell anyone or have any actual charges. In point of fact, they imprison Yang for weeks because they just don’t like him, and it drives everyone to distraction – especially the people back on Iserlohn, who are now forced to fight for over a month against the enemy without their tactical genius. The book does especially well in paralleling the Empire and Republic, Reinhard and Yang this time around. They both have corrupt glory hounds, they both assume that people who hold respect and are held in high regard will want absolute power (after all, it’s what they would do). And they both have beautiful young secretaries who have designs on them, though Yang is a little ahead here – he and Frederica are more like awkward teenagers, whereas Hildegarde is having difficulty getting Reinhard to even admit emotion exists after Siegfried’s death.

This was great fun to read, but again, after the whole book we’re mostly in the same place we were. We do learn a lot more about Phezzan, though, which has designs in trying to eliminate one side and prop the other up – as puppets for their economic tyranny. Oh yes, and there’s still the Church. I suspect the next book will have a lot more politics to it. And we get a next book, as Haikasoru have picked up the next three in the series. Great news.

By Natsuki Takaya. Released in Japan by Hakusensha, serialized in the magazine Hana to Yume. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Sheldon Drzka.

I’ve discussed before how much Fruits Basket deals with abuse, and it also deals just as much with family. And while the two obviously intersect, especially in this volume, they aren’t always meant to coincide. Not everyone is the same, and no one can go through quite the same situation as someone else. This has shown up most obviously in Yuki and Kyo each being deeply envious of what the other has. In this volume we see Momiji, whose sister has been spying on him and seems to have a sense that they’re related even if she doesn’t know it for sure, choosing to remain apart from her to save his family, even though it hurts him. We also see Yuki, who has mostly repaired his relationship with Ayame (who gets the best entrance in the book here) dealing with the repressive control of his mother, and fighting back against it quite a bit. Yuki is finally growing up.

And then there’s Rin, who’s life is so tragic she doesn’t even manage to get a front cover on the omnibus she most features in. Furuba does a good job, as I said, of showing how abuse affects everyone differently, and I won’t say Rin’s is worse than the others, but it’s certainly more explicit than the others, as we see her family, which had been putting on the facade of happy cheer, break apart with just one innocent question from her. If nothing else, it shows how fragile that facade was – even if she hadn’t asked, I doubt it would have lasted much longer. Rin’s flashback is heartbreaking, as she doesn’t even begin to understand where everything went wrong, and assumes it’s her fault – something her parents and Akito are happy to tell her is the case. Luckily, she has Haru, but she’s not in a headspace right now where she can accept her need for Haru, and so drives him away as well. Basically, Rin is fascinating and makes you want to hug her, except she’d run away.

Rin’s interaction with Tohru is also interesting. Like Hiro, she’s reluctant to accept Tohru as this sort of magical healing waif, which the start of the series may have led you to believe she was. Tohru has issues, though, and it’s in dealing with Rin, who’s actively asking her why, specifically, she wants to remove the curse, that Tohru begins to crack a bit. Rin so far is the only one who’s noticed Tohru is “quietly falling apart”, and the minimalistic look at Tohru’s flashbacks suggest it’s due to her mother and her burgeoning love for Kyo (she also reacts badly when he again implies he’s going to let her move on from him). Tohru has been an all-loving heroine, but not all love is the same, and I think Tohru needs a lesson in that before she can start to genuinely help to break the curse.

This being an omnibus, there’s so much more to talk about. Shigure’s self-analysis of his character, which is wonderful – Rin may hate Shigure, but no one hates Shigure the way Shigure hates Shigure. Akito pushing Rin out the window is the most startlingly violent the series has been to date, and the fact that Hiro saw it explains quite a bit from previous volumes. The student council actually do start to have a major impact on the story here, though they’re still somewhat hermetically sealed off from the rest of the cast, and we learn some of why Kakeru is the way he is – though there’s still his connection with Tohru, which remains mysterious. And then there’s Machi, who’s mostly a cypher, albeit a violent cypher. The joy of Fruits Basket is that the omnibus gives you endless time to reread the series and linger over your favorite parts. Also, Kimi is gloriously awful and I love her.

And next month, we get Sorta Cinderella!