One Piece 22-24 by Eiichiro Oda: B+

In some ways, I don’t really need to write another review of One Piece. Its virtues remain the same—a likeable core cast of characters who show how far friends will go to help friends and Oda’s sure hand guiding what might otherwise devolve into scenes of chaos—as does its one chief flaw: a tendency for fights to go on and on. And yet, I enjoyed this trio of volumes so much that it seems wrong not to chronicle that in some way.

Volumes 22 and 23 see the end of the civil war plaguing Princess Vivi’s kingdom, Alabasta. This arc has been rather slow for me, and that still holds true here, with a very lengthy final showdown between Luffy and the evil Sir Crocodile. Too, Crocodile’s convenient tendency to gloat over his evildoings makes it easy for the rebel leader to see that he and his followers were manipulated into their conflict with the king; I wished for a little more ambiguity here, but I guess that doesn’t really fit the spirit of One Piece.

Still, the conclusion is satsifying, and there’s a lot of great follow-up. We get a full chapter on the Navy officers who not only let Luffy go, but also realized he had a better chance of saving Alabasta than they did. Captain Smoker and Sergeant Tashigi may be trying to capture our heroes, but they’re both honorable people fighting for what they believe in, and I like that we are allowed to like them. There are also scenes of the townspeople undertaking repairs, our heroes taking some time to recuperate, and Vivi having to ultimately decide whether she wants to rejoin the crew or remain at home, which results in some extremely touching final pages for volume 23.

With volume 24, the Skypiea arc begins, but not before a stowaway—archaeologist Nico Robin, former second-in-command of Sir Crocodile’s criminal organization—is discovered and allowed to join the crew. After a 200-year-old ship falls from the sky and promptly sinks, Luffy, Zolo, and Sanji are sent down to look for clues as to how it seemingly came from the sky, the direction to which Nami’s log pose—the instrument that guides them from island to island along the Grand Line—is currently pointing.

Robin directs them to a pirate island called Jaya, where they make inquiries about Skypiea and are ridiculed for continuing to believe in superstitions and dreams. It’s all pretty fun—I especially loved the near-wordless scenes of the guys exploring the shipwreck, where they find a mysterious feather that I’m sure will be important later—but definitely still in its expository stages.

A few other random observations:
* You know a series is good when you finish a volume and think, “Yay! I still have thirty more to go!”

* Oda often impresses me by the little things. I love, for example, the recurring character of the camel and its sole line of dialogue, “Grmpf!” I also love that Oda has not forgotten Chopper’s inability to effectively hide; it comes up several times during these volumes but nobody comments on it.

* This being One Piece, I predict Nico Robin has a tragic backstory.

Black Cat 15-17 by Kentaro Yabuki: B

The last time I reviewed Black Cat, I said, “There are six volumes left of this series, and if they’re comprised of a huge epic battle between the sweepers and Creed and his goons, I think I could be quite happy indeed.” Well, I was wrong. Oh, my prediction as to the contents of these volumes was correct, but I wouldn’t describe myself as “quite happy” with the results. Not outright displeased or anything, but perhaps a little weary after a few volumes of it.

When we left off, the members of the Sweepers Alliance had converged upon Creed’s island fortress. Train, Eve, and Sven are all separated from one another and each wind up temporarily partnered with a new character. These three volumes are chiefly combined of fights between our heroes and members of Creed’s group/movement, The Apostles of the Stars, that generally last three chapters or so and frequently end with the victorious good guy convincing the defeated bad guy that it’s possible to change their ways and embark upon a new life.

And that wouldn’t be bad—in fact, when Eve takes her turn giving the speech, it has special resonance because of her personal evolution from living weapon to protector of the innocent—but it just happens over and over and over. Also, some of the supposedly awesome new skills the fighters come up with, like River’s Sonic Fist and Train’s Black Claw, just look really lame.

The high point of these volumes is the demonstration of how much Eve has grown. She is far more confident as a fighter, for one thing, having been motivated to practice her skills because of Train’s example, and is impressively badass in her fight against The Apostles’ Leon. More than that, though, it’s as if she has begun to truly understand what being a sweeper and putting one’s life on the line for others really means. I love that her maturation is considered an important enough part of the story that Yabuki finds time to focus on it a bit even in the midst of chaos.

When I first sat down to read these few volumes, I thought, “Oh, I have the final three volumes of the series out from the library, too. Maybe I can just devour all six at once!” After finishing this group, though, I definitely needed a break. I hope the finale can change things up enough to be truly satisfying.

Saiyuki 1-3 by Kazuya Minekura: B

Although Saiyuki‘s sequels and prequel ran/run in magazines aimed at a female audience, the original was serialized in GFantasy, which, as MJ pointed out in her Black Butler review, features many shounen series created by and appealing to women. Therefore, while I associate Saiyuki with intense female fandom, it still technically qualifies for inclusion in the Shounen Sundays experiment.

Saiyuki is based on the famous Chinese tale, Xi-You-Ji, or Journey to the West. Accordingly, the story begins with a Buddist monk, Genjyo Sanzo, receiving orders from a bodhisattva to gather three youkai (supernatural beings) companions and travel with them to India to stop the resurrection of a dangerous youkai lord known as Gyumaoh. Whoever is attempting the revival has combined human science and youkai magic in forbidden ways, resulting in a “Minus Wave” that has turned normally peaceful youkai into monsters and threatens the harmonious cohabitation they have enjoyed with humans. Sanzo and his companions, who are protected from the Minus Wave by virtue of either part-human lineage or power limiters, duly travel west as ordered.

The real point of the story, however, lies not in thwarting Gyumaoh’s return—a plot which proceeds at a pace best described as glacial—but in the characters and their personal journeys. In addition to Genjyo Sanzo, the priest who believes only in himself, there’s Sha Gojyo, a half-youkai womanizer; Cho Hakkai, a generally level-headed manipulator of chi; and Son Goku, the energetic Monkey King. Each character has a painful backstory more detailed than the main plot and as they travel ever so slowly westward, their various encounters with violent youkai or would-be assassins lead to gradually more revelations about their lives before they met.

While some of them get along well from the start—it seems Gojyo and Hakkai have been friends for a long time—Sanzo, the sole human of the group, initially has trouble trusting that his companions will not someday succumb to the effects of the Minus Wave and turn on him. Gradually, trust grows all around, leading to some nice moments of what I like to call “teamy goodness.” The characters are so compelling—though I could do without the constant (and grating) siblingesque arguing between Gojyo and Goku—that one finds oneself reading just for them. I really don’t care at all about Gyumaoh, for example, and the youkai encounters are already getting repetitive, but the promise that the fourth volume will offer more information about Hakkai makes me eager to continue the series.

It’s not just the heroes that are likable, though. I love a story with sympathetic villains, and so far Saiyuki has produced several. The chief antagonist so far is Kougaiji, son of Gyumaoh who is (unwillingly) doing the bidding of his father’s lover on the basis of a promise to free his mother from some kind of… containment. He sends members of his band to target Sanzo and his group, eventually arriving in person with his (mostly) likable inner echelon of followers. One gets the sense that he regrets having to fight Sanzo, but has no choice if he wants to free his mother. Another villain turns out to be a former priestly comrade of Sanzo’s who voluntarily cursed himself so that he could protect other priests from murderous thieves responsible for the death of Sanzo’s master. This brings up some informative and painful memories for Sanzo, as one might expect.

Artistically, Minekura has improved a lot since the early days of Saiyuki. Even by volume three the art is looking better, but initially the contrast between the covers and interiors is pretty major. This especially manifests itself in characters with droopy eyes, like Sanzo and the bodhisattva, who end up looking severely deformed on a number of occasions. I’m also strongly reminded, by some of the costumes, character designs, and the feel of the story as a whole, of Yun Kouga’s Gestalt (not that this is a bad thing). They did run in the same magazine, so perhaps that’s not unusual.

Ultimately, I liked Saiyuki a lot more than I’d expected to. It’s no Wild Adapter, and it’s a little bit pokey and a little bit silly, but it’s still much better than I thought it would be.

Saiyuki is published in English by TOKYOPOP and all nine volumes have been released. TOKYOPOP also publishes a sequel, Saiyuki Reload, and has released nine volumes of that series, as well. No word yet on a release date for the tenth and final volume.

This is my fourth and final Shounen Sundays review. Thanks again to MJ for participating along with me. It’s been fun!

Claymore 1-2 by Norihigo Yago: B+

With the ability to take over human bodies and blend in with ordinary people, monsters known as yoma have a (relatively) easy time finding humans to feed upon. The only weapons humans have against them are the “Claymores,” humans who have taken yoma flesh and blood into their own bodies in order to gain the power to defeat the monsters. Only females are able to successfully adapt to this procedure, which also grants them silver eyes with the ability to distinguish yoma from humans. As part of an unnamed organization, they travel from village to village in response to requests for their services.

The first “Claymore”—the warriors do not refer to themselves this way; the name was bestowed by humans due to the huge swords these seemingly frail women carry—readers encounter is Clare, a skilled and clever Claymore who is used to being shunned and voluntarily forgotten by the very people she is working to protect. This changes when a villager boy, Raki, seeks her out as she’s leaving town and declares his heartfelt gratitude. Later, when the villagers have shunned Raki for his association with the yoma, Clare takes him on as her cook, seeing in him a past not unlike her own. They travel together, ferreting out a yoma within a holy city and dealing with a Claymore whose human heart has lost control to the monster within her.

As a Joss Whedon fan, it’s impossible to read about a young woman saddled with the inescapable and thankless task of killing monsters and not make comparisons to the mythology of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Clare does not share much in common with Buffy herself, who has a network of friends around her to keep her grounded in normality as much as possible, but more reminds me of the Buffy we see in the alternate universe episode, “The Wish.” This hardened Buffy has no time for conversation or for even seeing the people she’s trying to save. Get in, do it, and get out, just like Clare, who has a habit of announcing to empty streets, “My work is done. Someone will be sent to collect the money. You will give it to him then,” before resolutely moving on to the next assignment.

There’s also an element of Whedon’s short-lived Dollhouse here too, though, as the Claymores have voluntarily corrupted their bodies with monstrous parts designed to make them faster and stronger. Unlike the dolls, the Claymores have not forgotten the memories of their past lives, but they are able to keep tight control of their emotions and perform the task to which they’ve been assigned. There’s even an impersonal male “handler” to tell Clare where to go next. It’s through her association with Raki that more of Clare’s latent humanity begins to shine through, as he is able to interpret subtle differences in her frosty exterior as kindness or gentleness and she begins to really care about him, seeking assurance at one point that if she should die in the battle, Raki will be taken care of.

It’s a little disappointing that, after advancing all these intriguing ideas in its exposition, Claymore‘s first multi-chapter storyline relies chiefly on action to propel it along, but I guess ideas alone do not a shounen manga make: there has to be fighting sometime! And, in fact, there is a lot of stabbing and slicing here, including many memorable images of yoma heads being severed while whatever’s left of the human they’ve taken over sheds unheeded tears. I’m impressed with Yagi’s ability to render action sequences so clearly, and also absurdly interested in Clare’s equipment, which seems to have been designed with more practicality than a lot of “costumes” manga characters are saddled with.

In the end, Claymore is enjoyable as an action tale, but is already providing ample food for thought with the promise of more intriguing revelations to come. This series was recommended to me by MJ, and reviewed as part of the Shounen Sundays project. She has good taste.

Cheeky Angel 19-20 by Hiroyuki Nishimori: B-

With these two volumes, Cheeky Angel comes to a close. Although it’s a bit rushed, the conclusion is ultimately fitting.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

Earlier in the series, the gang thwarted plans to marry Miki off to a slimy family associate by pretending that she and Genzo are in love. The rejected suitor, eager to solidify ties with Miki’s rich family, holds a grudge and captures the main cast, subjecting them to all sorts of high-stakes scenarios in an attempt to get them to turn on each other, but it never works. In the end, Miki winds up imprisoned in a tower, watching videos of the hardships her friends are enduring while they attempt to rescue her.

As a plot, this is highly ridiculous and not much different from the same sort of stories we’ve seen all along in this series. I had hoped for something new for the finale, but alas, that was not to be. Still, I like that this setup provides every character with a chance to be their best. Everyone—even traditionally weaker characters like average guy Ichiro and pervy Yasuda—makes a contribution to the effort to rescue Miki, and there are some really nice character moments. Favorites include Genzo’s absolute confidence that Meg would find a way to extricate herself from a prison cell in which she was briefly confined and Miki’s steadfast refusal to succumb to the bad guys’ attempts to make her feel bad that her friends are doing all this on her behalf.

After Miki is safe and life begins to return to normal, Meg shares a sweet smooch with Genzo (Ichiro: “Did he steal your lips?” Meg: “You really think I’d allow it? I stole his.”) and the spell is finally broken. Only two scant chapters deal with the question of Meg’s actual gender. I wish more time had been spent on this topic, but the way it’s presented does provide food for thought, at least.

It turns out that Meg, instead of wishing to be the manliest of men, was always a girl and wished to become a man. Her desire for this seems to be twofold. First, she believes that if she is a guy, that she’ll be able to protect Miki for as long as she is needed. Secondly, she wants to be able to be herself without being influenced by what girls are supposed to do and not do. And so, the genie makes her believe she was always a guy, and though her physical strength and determination are not actually changed, she feels more confident and is able to be herself without worrying so much about expectations. At least, that’s what I got out of it.

Aside from the unoriginal plot here at the end, my one real regret about the finale is that there are no hints at all that Miki and Hitomoji, a former Meg devotee who recently realized that Miki is the perfect girl for him, will ever become a couple. I don’t ask for a full-blown confession scene; a single panel depicting a self-conscious exchange of glances would’ve been enough to make me happy.

Cheeky Angel is not the best manga ever, but if you’re looking for some lighthearted, fanservice-free shounen with a capable heroine and a love interest who respects her competence, then look no further.

Spiral: The Bonds of Reasoning 1-3 by Kyo Shirodaira and Eita Mizuno: B

I’ve been curious about Spiral: The Bonds of Reasoning for a long time, and after really enjoying The Record of a Fallen Vampire by the same author, I decided to choose it for one of my Shounen Sunday picks.

It’s been two years since Kiyotaka Narumi, a brilliant young detective, disappeared after announcing he was pursuing the mystery of the “Blade Children.” Now, his wife Madoka and younger brother Ayumu are left to wonder what’s become of him. Madoka, a lieutenant on the police force, continues to investigate, while Ayumu is presently slumming it through high school, haunted by the amazing abilities of a brother to whom he feels he will never measure up.

When murder is committed on campus and Ayumu is accused, he must clear his name. Unexpected assistance arrives in the form of Hiyono Yuizaki, the president of the school newspaper who has a mysterious knack for gathering information. Together, they identify the real culprit, who ends up having connections to the Blade Children. Two further deaths require Ayumu’s sleuthing skills and each provides one more morsel of information about the central mystery.

In the second volume, the tone shifts as members of the Blade Children arrive and begin testing Ayumu with a variety of life-or-death challenges. These tests are apparently being administered at Kiyotaka’s orders, possibly as a means to jolt his brother from his torpor and awaken his true abilities so that he might become the Blade Children’s savior. Ayumu performs well, but the Blade Children utilize his lack of faith in himself to manipulate him. At moments like these, it’s Hiyono who steps up to display her utter confidence in her friend.

There’s no doubt that Spiral is an interesting and well-written manga. Author Kyo Shirodaira does an admirable job, achieving perfect pacing with the mystery but also taking the time to develop his lead character. Ayumu is quite the atypical shounen hero. He’s not at all confident in his abilities, and possesses a huge inferiority complex about his brother. Many people whom he meets identify him by his relationship to Kiyotaka, and he worries that his own personal tastes have become shaped by his brother, too. This even affects his ability to play the piano, an instrument he loves but gave up because “Even when I try to play from my heart, it always becomes like my brother’s style.”

Hiyono’s also an intriguing character, providing indispensible assistance time and time again and bolstering Ayumu’s spirits with her convictions when his own are lacking. I love how much he comes to rely on her help and is impressed by her (and tells her so). She even gets to save the day a time or two. It’s great that she’s given the opportunity to prove her usefulness, unlike some female sidekicks in shounen manga.

Unfortunately, the Blade Children are almost unbearably dull. They like to sit around and angst about whether Ayumu really can save them, whether they oughtn’t just kill him instead, whether their as-yet-undefined cruel fate can be avoided, whether it’s worth it to even hope, et cetera. Their gimmick of challenging Ayumu to high-stakes gambles gets repetitive, too. (Bomb, card trick, bomb again, poisoned beverage dilemma.) Even Shirodaira admits it becomes not so much a mystery manga as a “showdown manga.”

Shirodaira is paired with artist Eita Mizuno this time, who is a more consistent and traditional artist than Yuri Kimura, with whom Shirodaira worked on The Record of a Fallen Vampire. I like some of Mizuno’s character designs (Ayumu looks cool with his improbable hair and crazy sideburns) but not others (one of the Blade Children, Eyes Rutherford, looks like a petulant tween goth). I had been thinking that Hiyono looks she stepped from the pages of Ribon, with her big eyes and poofy braids, until the diminutive character of Rio was introduced. Rio, with her even bigger eyes and propensity to trip every five feet, just screams moe, which makes me worry that perhaps Hiyono is supposed to be moe, too. In the end, I think she’s too competent to qualify, but it’s worrisome nonetheless.

While I may find the reality of the Blade Children somewhat lacking, the mystery behind their creation is still intriguing, though ultimately not as compelling as the question of what Kiyotaka is really up to. It’ll also be interesting to see whether these tests do really result in Ayumu achieving his full potential. In fact, Ayumu and Spiral have a lot in common that way—the series has a lot of good points, but hasn’t yet managed to fire on all cylinders.

Fullmetal Alchemist 1-2 by Hiromu Arakawa: B+

I’ve been hoarding volumes of Fullmetal Alchemist for several years. Having heard it praised for its impressive storytelling, I decided to wait until it was nearer to being finished in Japan before starting it, with the idea that I might be spared some of the long waits between volumes that other fans have endured. But now, word is that the end is nigh, and with MJ recommending it to me so ardently, the time has finally come. Cracking open that first volume felt like quite the momentous occasion.

Edward and Alphonse Elric are unlike normal teenage boys. Both studied alchemy as children and when Edward found a way to bring their beloved mother back to life, the boys performed the ritual without a second thought, not realizing—in the “equivalent exchange” demanded by alchemy—that it would cost Edward his left leg and Alphonse his entire body. After exchanging his right arm for Alphonse’s soul, Edward grafted the soul into the one human-shaped thing that was handy at the time: a suit of armor. Edward is haunted by this mistake, not to mention the memory of what they actually managed to resurrect for their sacrifice, and his primary concern is regaining their original bodies. To that end, they travel the world looking for the Philosopher’s Stone, an alchemical power booster that might make this possible.

The brothers’ travels bring them into contact with trouble in various forms. Their first deed is to expose an alchemist posing as a religious figure, followed by freeing occupants of a mining town from the corruption of a military official and foiling a train hijacking. While this is going on, Edward is also trying to learn as much as he can about biological transmutation. In the second volume, his research leads him to a state alchemist who’s had some success in this area, which in turn takes the story down a very dark avenue involving human experimentation and a vigilante named Scar who takes it upon himself to execute alchemists who have violated the laws of nature.

I knew exceedingly little about Fullmetal Alchemist going into this, which is great. I knew about the brothers’ injuries, though not how they obtained them, and I knew they’d meet a mechanically inclined girl at some point. That’s it. As a result, I was surprised by a number of things as I read, including the presence of comedy. I’m not sure why I thought there wouldn’t be any, but having lighthearted moments sprinkled throughout is definitely welcome, especially once the story delves into more disturbing territory. I particularly love anything that shows that Alphonse, trapped inside a hulking steel shell, is really just a kid.

I was also surprised (and impressed) that the series tackles the religion vs. science question right away with the story of the fraudulent holy man. This also provides an opportunity to introduce Edward’s feelings about alchemy: because alchemists strive to understand the laws of nature, they are perhaps the closest to God that a human can achieve, but overstepping certain bounds—he likens this to the hubris of Icarus—leads only to sorrow and pain. His conflicted feelings resurface several times in these two volumes; one gets the idea that he would like to avoid the very kind of alchemy he’s been researching, but because it’s his best chance at bodily restoration, he’s got no choice.

Lastly, I was downright shocked by some things in the second volume. Somehow, I had expected the Elric brothers to save Nina, the child of a desperate alchemist about to lose state funding, from her father’s experimentation, but this was not to be. Similarly, I expected them to escape grievous bodily harm when fighting Scar so imagine my surprise when both are gravely injured in volume two. That’s just not normal! Shounen heroes are supposed to sustain wounds that would kill an average guy three times over and then get up for more!

I had originally planned to read three volumes for this review, but so much had happened by the end of volume two that I required time to digest it all. I’m used to a shounen manga’s second volume being the stage of the story where some wacky episodic hijinks introduce our hero to the rivals who’ll eventually become part of his entourage. It’s usually not until half a dozen volumes later that you glimpse the real meat of the story. Not so with Fullmetal Alchemist, which lulls you into expecting that episodic setup but makes with the buildup and continuity right away. I can already tell, and believe me that I mean this as a most sincere compliment, that this is going to be one challenging series.

Fullmetal Alchemist is published in English by VIZ. There are 22 volumes currently available, with volume 23 due out next month. We’re pretty close to being caught up to Japan, where volume 25 just came out in late April.

The Record of a Fallen Vampire 1-3 by Kyo Shirodaira and Yuri Kimura: B+

For the first two volumes of The Record of a Fallen Vampire, one thinks one has things figured out. There’s the vampire king, Akabara Strauss, who has tirelessly searched for his imprisoned queen for 1000 years despite being hunted by both human and supernatural foes, inspiring much romantic speculation. There’s the dhampire (a human/vampire mix) Jin Renka, who is also motivated by a love that was taken from him, a human named Yuki who was possessed by the Black Swan—a curse that imparts the ability to nullify the vampire king’s magic—and killed by Strauss. And then there’s the newest incarnation of the Black Swan, Kayuki, who, instead of fighting Strauss like she ought to do, instead initiates a truce with him because his help is needed in dealing with a problem of some magnitude.

And then along comes volume three and turns everything on its ear. It would be unfair to spoil the surprise, but at least one new development is so cracktastic one has to admire it.

The Record of a Fallen Vampire is scripted by Kyo Shirodaira, whose authorial blurb mentions he’s a novelist (and performed writerly duties for Spiral: Bonds of Reasoning, as well). He’s taken a novelistic approach with this series, too, pacing the opening volumes to dole out morsels of information at just the right pace, and waiting until the third volume to roll out the surprises. Also, because this series is complete in nine volumes, one suspects that the rest of the story will be equally well plotted. Shirodaira’s sure-handed approach allows one to confidently accept ideas like dhampires and curses without a fuss, concepts that could easily seem ridiculous if sloppily executed.

The characters are also an interesting bunch, and a couple of them—Akabara and his former general turned enemy, Bridget—have already been shown to have layers beyond their combative roles. The dhampires and Black Swan might be compelled to fight the super-powerful Strauss, but nonetheless concede that he’s a good guy. He definitely has his share of sins, but he knows this and is fully prepared to pay for them, and it doesn’t deter him from his relentless search for the queen. Even Laetitia, the young dhampire who Strauss has taken under his wing, manages to be the child-like comic relief without being annoying.

The one problematic note in the early volumes is the art by Yuri Kimura. Improvement is already noticeable by volume three, but problems with anatomy and proportion plague the first volume. The most glaring example is the back cover, which depicts a creepy, pink-haired girl with huge hands and a huge head on a too-tall stalk of a neck. She looks like an alien! This is actually supposed to be Yuki, who happily looks more human in the interior art.

It’s probably obvious that I enjoyed these three volumes quite a bit. I hope to get to the rest soon, because this is a series where storytelling momentum is especially important.

The Record of a Fallen Vampire is published in English by VIZ. All nine volumes are available now.

To Terra… 1 by Keiko Takemiya: A

From the back cover:
The future. Having driven Terra to the brink of environmental collapse, humanity decides to reform itself by ushering in the age of Superior Domination (S.D.), a system of social control in which children are no longer the offspring of parents but the progeny of a universal computer. The new social order, however, results in an unexpected byproduct: the Mu, a mutant race with extrasensory powers who are forced into exile by The System.

The saga begins on educational planet Ataraxia, where Jomy Marcus Shin, a brash and unpredictable teenager, is nervously preparing to enter adult society. When his Maturity Check goes wrong, the Mu intervene in the great hope that Jomy, who possesses Mu telepathy and human physical strength, can lead them back home, to Terra…

Review:
There’s no shortage of sci-fi stories in which the natural resources of Earth have been used up, prompting humans into space in search of new homes. In To Terra…, this situation works out a little differently. Instead, the humans are deemed to be the problem, and the original population of Earth (Terra) is forcibly removed while a eugenics program begins to breed a new race of people willing to submit to the will of Universal Control, part of the Supreme Domination system devised to regulate all aspects of life.

Fourteen-year-old Jomy Marcus Shin is a product of this system and has spent his life thus far on Ataraxia, a planet where children are raised by carefully selected foster parents until such time as they are ready for their Maturity Check. Jomy chafes against this orderly society, however, and is repeatedly subjected to tests designed to weed out ESP abilities—a sign that he is actually a Mu, a race of evolved humans noted for their telepathy and “emotional instability.” None of these tests detect Jomy’s latent powers until the Mu leader hijacks his Maturity Check and recruits Jomy to be the new leader of the Mu and help them achieve their goal of returning to Terra.

Meanwhile, those children who pass their Maturity Check have their fate decided for them by the computer. Some go on to their assigned jobs while others are destined for further schooling. Among these is Keith Anyan, an elite student destined for a position as one of Terra’s most powerful citizens. Currently, Keith is the star pupil at an educational satellite, though he’s not without his doubts about the system. His world is shaken up by a rival student, Seki Ray Shiroe, who refuses to relinquish his own free will, no matter the consequences.

There’s a lot going on in To Terra…, but though it’s definitely a complicated story, it never stops being a compelling one. No matter the differences between characters or their circumstances, all are united by yearning of one kind or another. Jomy yearns for a family life that was real, and it’s his recognition of the depth of the Mu’s longing for a home that helps him to finally understand them and agree to be their leader. Keith, though repeatedly assured of his own place on Terra, secretly yearns for a more inclusive system that would enable his less talented friend, “gentle Sam,” to achieve the same. As it is, Sam will probably spend his entire life in space, not being deemed good enough for a place on the surface.

Nobody is happy with things the way they are, but change requires action. Jomy is bold in his approach, starting the Mu off towards Terra immediately after taking charge, but Keith is constrained by expectations and some surprising revelations about his background. Too, anyone around him who might be of aid either conveniently forgets their dissent after a visit with the mother computer or ends up like Shiroe. In a way, this reminds me of Tezuka’s Adolf, as we are introduced to sympathetic characters on both sides of a conflict and seemingly poised to follow them over many years. In that scenario, Keith would be the Adolf Kaufmann, the sympathetic young man being educated by a fascist government who will either learn to embrace their beliefs or risk losing his place of prestige.

Visually, To Terra… is just as epic as a story like this warrants, with many gorgeous two-page spreads and pages upon pages of star-flecked darkness, emphasizing the vastness of space and the isolation between worlds, cultures, and individuals that’s causing so much pain to the characters. It does bother me that the sound effects haven’t been translated, though, since sometimes they could add a lot to a scene.

Even though To Terra… is technically shounen, the emphasis on the emotional lives of the characters and their simple desire for a home results in a story with universal appeal. No pun intended.

I reviewed To Terra… for May’s Manga Moveable Feast, hosted by Kate Dacey. Other reviews and commentary can be found at Kate’s blog, The Manga Critic. The series is published in English by Vertical and is complete in three volumes.

switch 1-2 by naked ape: C+

Although I knew of the existence of switch, I hadn’t been motivated to read it until David Welsh likened it to Wild Adapter fan fiction. Since I’m pining for new Wild Adapter rather ardently, I decided to check it out.

switch tells the story of a government-run Narcotics Control Division, specifically a pair of rookie investigators, as they attempt to get dangerous drugs off the street. Prickly Hal Kurabayashi is the more senior of the pair and friendly Kai Eto is his new partner—together they pursue leads, conduct busts, and go undercover in sting operations. In addition to smaller cases, they’re also involved in the ongoing investigation into Dragon Speed, a stimulant coming out of Hong Kong.

To judge this series by its premise alone, one might think (as I did) that it sounds pretty interesting. I’m a fan of detective fiction, after all, as well as stories with long mystery arcs. Unfortunately, switch falls flat in its execution. None of the cases is particularly captivating so far, with the possible exception of a popular actor who’s hooked on Dragon Speed, but what’s more disappointing is that none of the characters are, either. Kai possesses a violent alter-ego that activates when he is injured, and normally this would provoke speculation about his mysterious past, but it just comes across as bland cliché. Hal doesn’t do much except act surly. The tone’s also rather strange, with frequent gag panels and scenarios that are supposed to be funny but just really, really aren’t.

All that said, David did not fail to mention that switch gets off to a lackluster start but that he found a later volume to be much improved. Aside from some superficial similarities, there’s not much of a Wild Adapter vibe so far, but it’s pretty clear that Hal and Kai are going to become closer and learn to rely on one another eventually, so perhaps it will develop in future volumes. In the meantime, if you’re hankering for something like Wild Adapter, might I suggest simply rereading the original?