Two by Natsume Ono

For my latest column at Comics Should Be Good, I reviewed the debut volumes of two (relatively) new Natsume Ono series: House of Five Leaves and Gente: The People of Ristorante Paradiso. I really loved House of Five Leaves, with its story of a hapless samurai drawn into the schemes of a fascinating criminal. Gente is more a collection of low-key short stories than a single narrative, which means it’s slightly less awesome but still very entertaining.

You can find those reviews here.

Both House of Five Leaves and Gente are published in English by VIZ. The former is still ongoing in Japan, where it is up to eight volumes, but the latter (a “delightfully whimsical continuation” of Ristorante Paradiso) is complete with three volumes.

Review copy for Gente provided by the publisher.

Maid Sama! 1-4 by Hiro Fujiwara: B

When I started reading Maid Sama!, it was with the goal of catching up on the series so that I could cover the review copies I received of volumes five and six. I planned to give my personal copies of volumes one and two—as far as I ever got in actually buying the series—to my (awesome) local library when finished. Volume one went into the to-donate box as planned, but somewhere in the middle of volume two I fell not quite in love, but at least in profound like (and removed volume one from the box).

The premise of Maid Sama! is this: Seika High School was formerly an all-boys school, and despite the introduction of female students still remains 80% male. Misaki Ayuzawa ends up attending Seika because of its reasonable tuition but is determined to make the school a more pleasant place for the girls. She works hard to earn the position of Student Council President, and makes it her mission to whip the rambunctious boys into shape. Little do they know that when the “demon president” leaves school she heads to her part-time job at a maid café.

Most of the boys obey Misaki, if unwillingly, but handsome Takumi Usui is the exception. It’s no exaggeration to say that Usui can do anything and do it well, and one of his special talents is convincing Misaki to consider the boys’ perspective when arguments arise. He quickly learns about her secret job and thereafter always shows up at the right time to protect her from dangers like overzealous fanboy patrons and scheming students from a rival school. This forms the basic plot structure of Maid Sama!. Something wacky happens, Usui whips out some previously unknown talent, and the day is saved. Alas, most of these scenarios are uninspired, some painfully.

The most egregious example of plot lameness occurs in volume four. The staff of the café takes a group vacation to the beach, whereupon their hostess proclaims that her nephew can crossdress to his heart’s content if only he wins a random beach volleyball tournament. I’m pretty sure I groaned aloud when I got to that part. Still, I found myself remembering a comment from MJ, the basic gist of which was that she can forgive shoddy plotting if the character relationships are compelling. Indeed, it’s Misaki and Usui, both individually and together, who really save this series and make me want to read more.

Misaki starts out as rather abrasive, but mellows a bit thanks to Usui’s influence and by volume two is more often depicted as cool and intelligent. She never fails to give 100% in whatever she is trying to do and at times is downright valiant in her desire to protect the female students. Usui is one of those effortless genius types and is in love with Misaki, though his teasing nature prevents her from ever taking his declarations seriously. I love that Usui respects Misaki for her brains and strength—though it saddens me that he seems to believe that because Misaki is a girl there are limits to what she can expect to accomplish—and is impervious to advances from other girls.

It’s obvious that these two are meant to be together and it’s the rare pulse-pounding moments between them that make Maid Sama! such a fun read. Indeed, though the volleyball part of volume four is pretty dumb, it nevertheless leads to frustration on Misaki’s part when Usui, always her ally, is now suddenly her opponent. This, in turn, leads to one of the most romantic moments yet, which is unfortunately interrupted. Still, Misaki has been gradually warming to Usui, and it’s at the end of this volume that the narration observes that “Completely unnoticed, feelings had begun to grow.”

While I can’t claim that Maid Sama! is groundbreaking in any way, it is nonetheless extremely enjoyable and I’m looking forward to continuing with it. It would be nice if the plotting got more interesting, but so long as Misaki and Usui’s relationship continues to develop as it has been, I’ll be satisfied.

Millennium Snow 1-2 by Bisco Hatori: B-

Millennium Snow is the first series by Bisco Hatori (of Ouran High School Host Club fame), one of those that began as a stand-alone but eventually achieved serialization. It’s been on hiatus for some time, but now that Ouran has wrapped up, some fans are hoping that Hatori will return to it. I’m not so sure that’s a worthy endeavor.

Chiyuki Matsuoka has had a weak heart since birth, and wasn’t expected to live past the age of fifteen. She’s managed to make it to seventeen, but spends most of her time in the hospital. One day, as she is gazing out the window, she spots a boy fall from a building and dashes out of the hospital to check on him. He is Toya, the very personification of the seemingly gruff hero who actually has a heart of gold. He’s also a vampire, weak from his refusal to drink blood.

Toya is exceedingly abrasive to begin with, but eventually demonstrates he’s not such a bad guy by doing things like accompanying Chiyuki on an afternoon outing (vampires have overcome their aversion to sunlight) and catching a little kid’s loose balloon. Chiyuki falls for him pretty quickly and offers to become his partner. Having a human to feed upon will cure the exhaustion he suffers from abstaining and the arrangement will also allow Chiyuki to share his 1000-year lifespan. Toya refuses, because if his partner should ever despair of their unending life, he would be the one to blame—he’s watched humans he cared for die, and wouldn’t want to wish the same on his partner.

It’s an interesting dynamic, and the first chapter—which I assume constituted the original one-shot—is quite good. Unfortunately, one the story gets serialized, Hatori seems hard-pressed to come up with plots. First, she introduces Satsuki, a werewolf boy whose transformation is limited to fangs and clawed hands and feet in order to best preserve his bishounen appearance. When the story focuses on his desperate attempts to be normal, he’s a fairly compelling character, but he quickly becomes dim-witted and entirely too glomp-happy, existing only to incite Toya’s perturbation. Their incessant squabbling means that on practically every page someone’s yelling or getting kicked in the back of the head.

To demonstrate the dearth of plot ideas, in volume two the trio is suddenly lost in the Alps in Switzerland, where they stumble upon a deserted mansion. It is incredibly random, and brings home the point that while you may have two likable leads—plus a completely adorable talking bat!—you may find yourself without sufficient material to sustain a longer story.

I’m not sure how it can be salvaged at this point, honestly. I think I’d rather see Hatori embark upon something new and leave this one unfinished. When the romantic tension between Toya and Chiyuki takes center stage, the story’s potential is obvious, but the directionless plotting and constant bickering makes for a frustrating reading experience.

Millennium Snow is published in English by VIZ. The series is currently on hiatus in Japan.

Gyo 1-2 by Junji Ito: B+

Walking fish aren’t the usual sort of monsters one associates with Halloween, but their invasion makes for creepy reading nonetheless!

Tadashi and his high-maintenance girlfriend, Kaori, are vacationing in Okinawa when Kaori begins complaining of putrid smells. Soon after, a chase ensues between Tadashi and a barely glimpsed, fast-moving creature, culminating with the discovery that said critter is actually a fish with four spindly mechanical legs. This is just the tip of the fishberg, though, as Okinawa is soon overrun by walking fish, which quickly spread to mainland Japan and eventually the rest of the world.

Despite the attempts of the back cover to induce me to regard the series as “horrifying,” the primary adjective I’d use to describe it is “weird.” The scenes of walking fish—and sharks, squids, and whales—swarming down city streets are alarming but fun in a disaster movie kind of way. For most of the first volume, I actually smiled as I read. Things get more serious in the second volume, with revelations about what the creepy legs will do once they run out of fish bodies to use as fuel, but the weird only gets weirder—there’s a critter circus, for example—and the series never loses its page-turning momentum.

While I’d primarily classify Gyo as something fun that’s not too deep, it does offer some commentary on scientific ethics, particularly in the person of Tadashi’s uncle, who immediately begins trying to create a walking machine of his own. Some will be put off by the lack of a finite ending, but I find it interesting. If this were a disaster movie, we’d probably be given the opportunity to cheer on our battered heroes as they figure out the creatures’ vulnerability and blow them all to smithereens, but Gyo stops short of that point. Will mankind prevail? Will the world be overrun? We’ll never know.

Two short stories are included in volume two. “The Sad Tale of the Principal Post” is short and random, but I liked “The Enigma of Amigara Fault” a lot. In it, an earthquake has revealed a rock formation riddled with human-shaped holes that go farther back into the rock than researchers are able to measure. People have flocked to the site after seeing it on TV, somehow drawn to holes that seem to have been tailor-made for them. A young man named Owaki tries to keep his new female friend, Yoshida, from entering her hole, and suffers some vivid (and way more horrifying than the fish-monsters!) nightmares about what could happen to a person who enters. The final page suggests he was right.

In the end, I wouldn’t classify Gyo as amazing, but it—and “The Enigma of Amigara Fault”—are certainly entertaining and memorable. I may have to check out more from Junji Ito, like the spooky spiral menace of Uzumaki!

Gyo is published in English by VIZ and is complete in two volumes.

In the Walnut 1-2 by Toko Kawai: B+

More mystery than romance, this BL series features some unremarkable “cases” but a pair of interesting leads who are already an established couple when the story begins! Shocking!

You can find my review for Manga Bookshelf here.

In the Walnut is published in English by Digital Manga Publishing. The series is still ongoing in Japan; the third volume was just released there on October 9th.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Cross Game 1 by Mitsuru Adachi: A-

When the first volume of Cross Game arrived at my house, I’m pretty sure my exact words were, “Eee!” Happily, I liked it every bit as I thought I would.

The back cover really says it best: “Cross Game is a moving drama that is heartfelt and true, yet in the brilliant hands of manga artist Mitsuru Adachi, delightfully flows with a light and amusing touch. The series centers around a boy named Ko, the family of four sisters who live down the street and the game of baseball. This poignant coming-of-age story will change your perception of what shonen manga can be.”

Warning: it’s impossible to discuss one of the nicest aspects of this series without revealing a major spoiler. Proceed at your own risk.

The first of the three volumes of Cross Game that VIZ has bundled together in an attractive omnibus serves as a prologue, of sorts. We meet protagonist Ko Kitamura when he’s in fifth grade, a mischievous and lazy kid whose parents run a sporting goods shop. Nearby, Mr. Tsukishima runs a batting center and his four daughters are a part of Ko’s life, though none more so than sunny Wakaba, who was born the same day as Ko and who alone has the power to motivate him. She’s a very special girl, with a knack for befriending other kids despite their appearance or reputation; the influence her acceptance has on her classmate Akaishi, commonly regarded as somewhat of a hoodlum, is destined to be lifelong.

Tragedy strikes at swimming camp when Wakaba attempts to save someone else and ends up drowning herself. Despite her physical absence from the story after this point, Wakaba’s presence remains a palpable one. As the story jumps ahead four years, we find Ko still continuing to perform the daily workout he promised her he would do as a means of improving his baseball skills and Akaishi leading the junior high baseball team (and staying out of trouble). Ko hasn’t joined the team because of some jerks that were on it when he was a first year, but once Akaishi tells him that on the last morning of her life, Wakaba passed by his parents’ store and mentioned that she’d dreamed about Akaishi and Ko going to Koshien together, he begins training without another word necessary. Ko may be a slacker if left to his own devices, but if it’s something Wakaba wanted, he is going to make sure it becomes reality, no matter what. It’s clear Akaishi feels the same.

The boys move into high school, where the interim principal has hired an unprincipled baseball coach with a good record at Koshien. Ko, Akaishi, and their friend Nakanishi don’t want to play for such a fellow and opt to remain on the junior varsity team; as the volume ends they’re preparing to show up the varsity team in an upcoming scrimmage game. Tying in with this is the sad story of Aoba, Wakaba’s younger sister. Aoba is passionate about baseball and is even the captain of the junior high team. Unfortunately, because she’s a girl she can only ever pitch in practice games and can never be deemed more than a devoted fan. Aoba and Ko clash personally, as well, as she still resents him for the closeness he shared with Wakaba, though it’s clear they’re destined to end up together.

Cross Game is a pretty low-key story that’s part slice-of-life and part sports manga. Typically, the protagonists in the latter don’t have such a touching reason for wanting to excel at their sport, and neither do they feature two guys nurturing a bittersweet memory of the same beloved girl in their hearts. The characters really grow on you—Ko seems a little bratty at first, but shows time and again that he’s a good person, particularly in how he treats Momiji, Wakaba and Aoba’s little sister—and I love that Ko’s two best friends are kind of burly and unattractive. You don’t see that a lot in manga.

I have two minor complaints, but I’ve been given to understand that they’re both common attributes of Mitsuru Adachi’s manga. The first is that some of the character designs—particularly of children—are positively dumpy. Too, a lot of the recurring characters have faces that are difficult to remember, though this is not the case at all for the primary players. Secondly, the fourth wall gets broken all the time. Adachi himself appears and the characters are often shown reading his manga. The story doesn’t take itself too seriously, so this is not as glaring as similar moments in NANA, for example, but I found it kind of irksome all the same.

The second omnibus of Cross Game, this time containing volumes four and five of the original Japanese releases, is due in January. I am looking forward to that scrimmage game—and Ko finally getting to show off his amazing baseball abilities—so much that it isn’t even funny.

Cross Game is published in English by VIZ, who is bundling the seventeen-volume series into eight chunky tomes. This one is comprised of the first three volumes and the others will contain two each.

This review was originally published at Comics Should Be Good.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Tidbits: Shonen Jumping for Joy

Welcome back to Tidbits, a new feature for shorter reviews! This time I take a look at three continuing series from VIZ’s Shonen Jump imprint. First up, it’s volumes 28-31 of One Piece, followed by volumes 9-12 of Slam Dunk and a single volume (the third) of the aesthetically pleasing Tegami Bachi: Letter Bee.

One Piece 28-31 by Eiichiro Oda: B+
Volumes 28-30 consist almost entirely of fighting, as the forces of the all-powerful “Kami” of Skypiea, Eneru, clash with the Shandians (fighting to regain their lost city), while the Straw Hat pirates (just lookin’ for some gold) are caught in the middle. Eneru, as it turns out, has staged the whole thing as a survival game, and figures that after three hours, only five of the original 81 combatants will survive. After this, we get periodic updates as to how many remain, a device I found strangely satisfying.

Although some of the battles are between characters we’ve never seen before, those encounters are usually brief. While Luffy spends the entirety of volume 29 stuck inside a giant serpent, many of the other Straw Hats get a chance to shine, especially Chopper and Robin, whose battles with Eneru’s minions show off the versatility of their respective powers. Nami, too, gets more experience using her new weapons and Conis, a resident of Skypiea, marshals her courage to defy the Kami and warn the people of his plans to destroy the island. There’s been some discussion lately about manga that passes the Bechdel Test, and these volumes exemplify why One Piece does so with flying colors.

Speaking of Robin, I am liking her more and more. This is the first time we’ve really seen her on her own and though it’s always been evident how intelligent and competent she is, it’s nice to see she’s also trustworthy and kind of a badass. She’s generally reserved but is passionate about archaeology, and through her we begin to get hints about a 100-year gap in the history of the world, something that could turn out to be huge. At one point she references “the unspoken history that the land below has ceased to talk about,” and later discovers that Shandora “fought against the enemy.” Thirty volumes in and we’re just starting something so big and potentially awesome? Oda, I think I love you.

After Eneru puts in motion his plan to destroy Skypiea, a mass exodus of its residents ensues. Volume 31 departs from the present panic to flesh out the history of the island and how it ties in with Mont Blanc Noland. This is actually the best part of the Skypiea arc so far and explains quite a few things while being a durn good story in and of itself. The arc doesn’t quite wrap up here, but now that I fully understand the significance of the golden bell in the city of Shandora, I care a lot more about the outcome than I have done in recent volumes!

Slam Dunk 9-12 by Takehiko Inoue: B+
It takes some willpower not to devour each new release of Slam Dunk, but it’s so immensely satisfying to read multiple volumes back-to-back that the wait is worth it!

Volume nine marks the start of the Kanagawa Prefectural Tournament, in which the Shohoku team is able to take part thanks to Hanamichi’s friends taking responsibility for the on-court brawl that occurred in the previous volume. Shohoku is underestimated at first, but the return of Miyagi and Mitsui to the team—both of whom are greeted with somewhat awed recognition from the crowd—makes them a force to be reckoned with. They progress steadily through the tournament, eventually ending up in the final four against Kainan, a school that has made it to Nationals sixteen years in a row.

Hanamichi is his usual annoying self to begin with, demanding that the ball be passed to him and proclaiming himself a genius at every opportunity. After fouling out in each of the first four games, and after recognizing the skills and strengths of his teammates, he finally realizes that he’s not such hot stuff after all. Despite occasional relapses, this marks a real turning point for Hanamichi, as he is able to accept tutelage more readily and function better as a part of the team. For example, though he originally harbored dreams of outscoring Rukawa, once he makes snagging rebounds his focus instead, he’s able to contribute a great deal to Shohoku’s success. His progress and maturation combined with a slightly more humble attitude go a long way toward making him more likable, and it’s quite touching when he gets his first rousing cheer from the crowd.

Structurally, Slam Dunk is very similar to The Prince of Tennis. Though I love the latter a lot, Slam Dunk is the more exciting read, a fact I’d chalk up to the nature of the sport. In tennis, our lead characters battle either singly or in pairs against their foes, while the rest are relegated to commentary until it’s their turn. Here, all the principle characters are on the court at the same time, which gives more immediacy to the way they’re able to motivate each other. True, the characters in Eyeshield 21 all play simultaneously, too, but because basketball moves at a faster pace than football, the effect here is exhilarating, bordering on addictive.

Unfortunately, there’s no more Slam Dunk due until December! Perhaps I’ll investigate whether Inoue’s more dramatic basketball manga, REAL, can help stave off the cravings.

Tegami Bachi: Letter Bee 3 by Hiroyuki Asada: C+
Tegami Bachi: Letter Bee is the story of Lag Seeing, a twelve-year-old boy who has just become a Letter Bee (government mail carrier) in the perpetually dark country of Amberground, inspired by Gauche Suede, a Letter Bee he met five years ago. Lag had hoped to reunite with Gauche, but after learning that his hero disappeared six months after he last saw him, he meets with Gauche’s sister, Sylvette, and promises to find out what happened to her brother.

Gauche was by far the more interesting of the two characters featured in volume one, so it’s nice to get a few glimpses of him here. These tibits—and the bonus story about reuniting an aging dingo (animal companion) with the Letter Bee he faithfully served—are the best things about the volume. Lag is still not a very interesting protagonist and I’ve grown to pretty much hate his dingo, Niche. I’m sure she’s intended to be comic relief, but the story would be better served by cutting her unfunny antics and devoting that page space to clarifying the narrative, which is still going on and on about the importance of “heart.”

Back in January when I reviewed volume two, I said I’d give Tegami Bachi one more chance to win me over. As problematic as the series continues to be, after what we learn about Gauche’s disappearance and mysterious memory loss in this volume, I can’t imagine myself stopping without learning what happened to him. I don’t think this counts as “won over” so much as “minimally intrigued,” but either way, I’ll probably keep reading.

Review copies for volumes nine, eleven, and twelve of Slam Dunk provided by the publisher.

Bakuman。 2 by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata: B+

From the back cover:
Average student Moritaka Mashiro enjoys drawing for fun. When his classmate and aspiring writer Akito Takagi discovers his talent, he begs Moritaka to team up with him as a manga-creating duo. But what exactly does it take to make it in the manga-publishing world?

After Moritaka and Akito collaborate on a manga together, they venture to publishing house Shueisha in hopes of capturing an editor’s interest. As much potential as these two rookies have, will their story impress the pros and actually get printed?

Review:
The second volume of Bakuman。 picks up where the first left off, with artist Moritaka Mashiro and writer Akito Takagi taking the final draft of their one-shot manga to Jump headquarters for consideration. This kicks off a series of fascinating meetings (spanning from summer vacation to the start of the next school year the following spring) in which the boys receive feedback from their editor, Hattori, and try to create a story that will be popular enough to merit serialization.

I loved all the meetings with Hattori, especially how specific he was about story and art requirements for Jump and how, as the boys improved, he went over their storyboards panel-by-panel with useful suggestions. As befits shounen protagonists, Mashiro and Akito are both very talented, but they’re not instantly the best around and go through many ideas and an immense amount of work before they’re able to craft something that is worth publishing.

When they finally do manage to get a story published, it takes third place in the popularity poll for that issue. The winner is Eiji Nizuma, a fifteen-year-old mangaphile who has been drawing since the age of six and practically does nothing else. He’s an exceedingly weird kid, but he fulfills the Akira Toya role here of “genius rival of comparable age.” He’s the first obstacle our leads will have to overcome, and I think it’s pretty fun how this is shaping up to be a sort of tournament manga.

Unfortunately, I’m still bored and fairly annoyed by Mashiro’s relationship with classmate Miho Azuki. They’ve pledged to marry once their dreams come true, but in the meantime aren’t even going to date. To some extent I understand—it’s suggested that Miho’s in favor of this because she wants to be able to focus on her dream without being distracted by Mashiro—but they still hardly know each other. Thankfully, Miho’s friend, Miyoshi, finds this just as bizarre. Also, while the overt, spoken sexism is absent from this volume it’s not exactly absent from the characters’ behavior. At one point Mashiro informs Miho that they’re going to be together when he becomes a manga artist, whether she’s realized her dream (to be a voice actress) or not. Nice, kid.

Though Bakuman。 has some flaws, it’s still an utterly captivating look at the manga-creating experience. I can overlook a banal relationship plotline if it means getting a glimpse inside the editorial process at Jump!

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Chi’s Sweet Home 3 by Konami Kanata: A-

From the back cover:
Kitten-rearing is something, but raising a street-smart feline in a building with a strict no-pets policy is another story altogether. When mentoring a curious kitty, tactful tabbies must teach with patience and a firm paw. Remember, cats are a special breed. While we can survive well enough on instinct, those same feline responses can lead to unwanted attention. This long-whiskered one recommends spending lots of time with your little furballs, for they will intuitively look for mischief unless thoroughly entertained.

Review:
I think I’d be perfectly happy if Chi’s Sweet Home simply offered episodic tales of exceptional kitty cuteness without bothering with any kind of cohesive narrative. That’s not something I’d say about just any series, but the scenarios are so familiar to any cat owner—the difficulty of capturing a feline’s cuteness on film, the tendency of cats to snag a claw on something—that they really work for me. The fact that the series does begin to develop a kind of narrative is just icing on the cake, then.

Chi has become friends with “Blackie,” a huge black tom cat who’s been making a nuisance of himself around the pets-prohibited building where Chi lives with the Yamada family. He’s her mentor, of sorts, teaching her how to hunt, how to claim turf by spraying, and how not to look down before leaping but to “smile and look ahead.” Here’s the adorable result of Blackie’s advice:

Alas, hanging around with Blackie has gotten Chi noticed by the superintendent, leading the Yamadas to debate what they’re going to do. I must say, for people who are trying to keep their cat from being spotted, they’ve certainly got a very casual attitude about leaving their patio door open. You’d think they’d try a bit harder. Eventually, after Chi is nearly captured but manages to escape and return home, she’s confined inside, which leads to a pathetic scene I’ve recently witnessed in my own home:

Rather than give up their cat, Blackie’s owners decide to move, and Chi’s gradual realization that her friend has gone away is adorable and touching. Although it’s pretty clear the Yamadas are not going to give Chi away, this storyline does touch a little bit on the responsibilities of pet ownership, and how often people take pets into their homes and lives without being able to properly care for them in the long term.

I wish the Yamada parents took their role a bit more seriously—it’s a shame when Yohei is the one to tell a rambunctious visiting cousin not to scare Chi—but at least they listen to their son when he insists Chi is part of the family.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

The Story of Saiunkoku 1 by Kairi Yura and Sai Yukino: B+

From the back cover:
Shurei Hong, destitute but of noble birth, has always dreamed of working as a civil servant in the imperial court of Saiunkoku, but women are barred from holding office. The emperor Ryuki, however, refuses to take command, leaving everything to his advisors. Shurei is asked to become a consort to the emperor to persuade the ne’er-do-well ruler to govern.

Shurei enters the palace as Ryuki’s consort, but he has yet to seek her out. It is rumored that men, not women, share the emperor’s bedchamber. Shurei must think of a way to stop the emperor from shirking his responsibilities, but she has to find him first!

Review:
I can no longer remember when or how I was exposed to the anime adaptation of The Story of Saiunkoku (originally a series of light novels). While I liked the characters and the setting, I never mustered a passionate devotion to the series and didn’t get beyond the first few episodes. Happily, I have a feeling things will be different with the manga adaptation.

The first volume covers ground familiar to me: sixteen-year-old Shurei Hong is the clever and hard-working daughter of an impoverished but noble family in the capital city of Saiunkoku, “the country of the colored clouds.” Her father maintains the imperial archives but doesn’t make much money, so Shurei supplements the family’s income by tutoring children and taking on other odd jobs. One day, the Head Minister, Lord Advisor Sho, turns up at their home with a proposition: he’ll pay Shurei a hefty sum to enter the court as the emperor’s consort and whip the nineteen-year-old shirker into shape.

Shurei immediately consents, and it’s a job she’s well-suited for, as a noblewoman with nothing but beauty to recommend her would not be learned or capable enough to complete the task at hand. Alas, the emperor, Ryuki, avoids her to the point where the ministers (a trio of awesomely scheming old dudes) are about to orchestrate a meeting. When they finally do meet, Ryuki pretends to be someone else, but Shurei sees through him almost immediately. Still, she plays along, sharing her ideal vision of an emperor with him and letting him know that she’ll be beside him all the way. Ryuki eventually declares that he will learn governance, and the two of them begin taking lessons from Koyu Ri, a brilliant young civil servant.

Although Shurei is a strong and interesting lead, towards the end of the volume Ryuki steals the show in a big way. He pretends to be somewhat of an elegant spaz (He actually reminds me of Tamaki in Ouran High School Host Club, though not as frantic.), but is actually educated and an accomplished swordsman. As we learn more about his past—as an “unnecessary” sixth prince, he was bullied by his brothers and neglected and abused by his mother—we learn why he finds Shurei so appealing. Rumors abound of Ryuki’s taste for men, but it’s not clear whether this is something sexual or merely related to his fear of being alone with the dark. He’s a damaged but likable guy, and being with Shurei brings him peace but also strength. The happy expression on his face when she finally invites him into her bed chamber for the night (he’s previously had to sneak in) is positively adorable.

The enjoyable interaction between Shurei and Ryuki may be the centerpiece of the story, but a pair of political subplots serve to flesh out the story. First, due to her proximity to the emperor, as well as rumors that an heir will soon be produced, Shurei becomes the target of assassins. Ryuki enlists the aid of two retainers to protect her, earning their loyalty by finally placing his trust in their abilities. The second concerns Ryuki’s older brother, Seien, who was banished as a teen for treason committed by his maternal relatives. It’s hinted very strongly that Seiran, the sole remaining servant to the Hong family, is the missing brother, but that’s not yet confirmed.

Somehow, the manga interpretation of the story is able to capture my interest more fully than the anime. I feel like I understand more what’s going on and can remember the cast of characters more easily—maybe Kairi Yura’s lovely art is responsible for that. Too, I’m now eager to reach parts of the story that are new to me. Alas, I shall have to wait until February for volume two!

Review copy provided by the publisher.