By Hiroaki Samura. Released in Japan as “Nami yo Kiite Kure” by Kodansha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Afternoon. Released in North America digitally by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Adam Hirsch.
The digital-only manga is something we’ve seen pop up quite a bit over the last few years, and now the big print companies are getting into it as well. Hiroaki Samura is well-known and beloved for his classic samurai series Blade of the Immortal, so you’d think that his next project would be an obvious get. But just like you don’t necessarily pick up the Fullmetal Alchemist creator’s new work when it’s a farming manga, you don’t necessarily have a built in audience for the samurai guy writing about a brash young woman who finds herself recruited for the wonders of the local radio station. Luckily, Kodansha is releasing this digitally, and I think it’s strong enough that with good word of mouth, it could warrant a print release.
Wave, Listen to Me! runs 100% on its heroine, and if you don’t like her, you’re not going to like the book. She doesn’t exactly make it easy to like her, either. When we meet Minare she’s drunk, talking to an older guy in a bar simply because he’s there, and bemoaning her recent failed relationship. You’d expect that this is the sort of behavior that would only come out when she’s drunk, and that she’ll regret it later. This is only partially true – she regrets some of the whining and bad relationship talk she gave, but it turns out that she’s pretty much like this when sober as well. Why is she regretting what she said to some guy in a bar? Well, turns out he recorded her… and that he’s a radio producer. When she hears her ranting monologue on the air, it leads to the possibility of a brand-new career. Which is good, because Minare’s life right now is a hot mess.
This is a fun, funny manga, and I enjoyed that it allowed us to be amused at all of Minare’s horribly wrong choices without actually making her look pathetic or annoying. (Also, ten points for her athleticism in taking out the guy who supposedly is assaulting her – though again, this turns out to be an error in judgment.) Minare says what she thinks and tends to act impulsively, which is why she’s a walking disaster, but is also why she has guys like Nakahara who are totally smitten with her. The parts of the book dealing with her radio career are more interesting than the romance, and I am very wary of the “other woman” who shows up to allegedly help at the restaurant Minare works at to make up for her brother’s running over the owner (as is Minare). But honestly, I would read 200 pages of this woman reading the phone book to us. It is very much a one-character title, and I really love the character.
Luckily, I won’t have too long to wait – the second volume is out next week. If you enjoy manga about strong, loud, flawed adult women and their misadventures in living, or even if you just love radio, this is a winner. Go buy it so we can get it in print.

My name is Saitama. I am a hero. My hobby is heroic exploits. I got too strong. And that makes me sad. I can defeat any enemy with one blow. I lost my hair. And I lost all feeling. I want to feel the rush of battle. I would like to meet an incredibly strong enemy. And I would like to defeat it with one blow. That’s because I am One-Punch Man.
The balancing act ONE and Murata achieve here is impressive. On the one hand, One-Punch Man is gloriously silly. Heroes and foes alike are apt to be ludicrous, and some of the former have terrific names like Tank Top Vegetarian or Spring Mustachio (although I actually think he’s pretty cool). On the other hand, there is a lot of excellent shounen manga storytelling going on. The way Saitama lives his life without criticism for others makes me think he’d get along well with One Piece‘s Luffy, and the devotion his pupil Genos shows for him means they can always rely on each other. Too, after Saitama joins the Hero Association, we get regular updates on how his rank is improving, and this puts him in contact with even more heroes, some of whom are inept, some of whom are capable, and one of whom might actually be an enemy. He doesn’t seek glory, so many are unaware of his true strength, but I assume that eventually he will attain the rank he deserves (currently, due to poor performance on the written test, he’s far below Genos).
As of volume eleven, there are several plotlines in play. Monsters are appearing everywhere, and appear to be organizing. Is this tied in with the prediction of an extinction-level event within the next six months? What about that hint of a possible traitor that was dropped a few volumes back? While a rogue martial artist named Garo is hunting heroes, Saitama is off at a martial arts tournament to learn more how to defeat Garo (not knowing that he totally already did) and seems destined to face off against another strong fighter who is desperate for a challenge. I admire how this story has widened in scope in a natural way, without compromising the balance of narrative and humor. It could conceivably go on for a very long time, and I deeply hope it does.


Shirotani is a lifelong germaphobe, resigned to his condition, though it keeps him isolated from others. Fortunately, with the help of his understanding employer, he is able to tolerate his job as secretary to a corporate CEO. It is in the corporate line of duty, then, that he first meets Kurose, a therapist at a local mental health clinic. Kurose notices Shirotani’s condition immediately, and suggests he seek help, but though Shirotani is able to make his way to the clinic, he can’t bring himself to go inside. Acknowledging this difficulty, Kurose offers to help him in a non-clinical capacity, as a friend, an arrangement to which Shirotani eventually agrees. As Kurose slowly helps him accomplish progressively difficult tasks (touching a doorknob with his bare hand, buying a book from a bookstore), the two become close in ways that complicates their relationship and threatens the fragile boundaries between them.
MICHELLE: Another thing that strikes me about the questions Kurose poses is how detached and clinical they can seem, even after a sexual act. One example is, “Were you more concerned with the possibility that I found you unpleasant than whether or not you found the situation itself unpleasant?” Leaving aside the tacit admission that he knows Shirotani could’ve been finding the situation unpleasant, attempting to reassert the therapist/patient dynamic at such a moment is, well, kind of creepy.





I admit that I initially judged this book by its cover, assuming that it was on the smutty side and aimed at a decidedly male audience. While it is true that Scum’s Wish is seinen, the mangaka (Mengo Yokoyari) is female, and the end result (for me, at least) feels more like dark shoujo.