Love*Com 17 by Aya Nakahara: B

After the main Love*Com story finished, mangaka Aya Nakahara published a few additional bonus stories, which are collected in the series’ seventeenth and final volume. Three stories depict Ôtani and Risa during their junior high years and one revisits the gang four months after graduation. One of the major flaws of Love*Com in its later volumes was that, in a transparent effort to milk the series for all it was worth, the focus drifted too much from the leads to the uninspiring supporting cast. Here, at least, each story features one or both of the protagonists in the starring role(s).

Despite its hokey setup—practically every semi-significant character from the series coincidentally converges on the same beach on the same day—the post-graduation story is not only the best of the four, but also provides the best Risa/Ôtani scene in quite some time. It deals with Risa’s feelings of being left behind by her undergraduate friends, who are off having new experiences with people she doesn’t know while she contends with the challenges of fashion stylist school, which is not going as well as she had hoped. Somehow, this series works best when Risa is miserable, and when Ôtani steps up to the plate to cheer her up and listen to her troubles, it provides a better and more personal farewell for the series than the full-cast send-off volume sixteen offered.

It’s been a long time since I paused to admire and reread a particularly sweet moment between these two characters, and I can’t help feeling grateful that I was able to experience it one more time before the end. Maybe, just a little, Love*Com has redeemed itself.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

How to Capture a Martini by Makoto Tateno: B+

As a first year in high school, Naoyuki Hibino experienced his first love, first kiss, and first sexual experience with an upperclassman named Shinobu Okada. When Shinobu abruptly disappeared after his graduation, Naoyuki was crushed but did his best to forget him. Four years have passed since that time, but when Naoyuki happens to run into Okada, who’s working as a bartender, all of his old feelings return with a vengeance.

Shinobu doesn’t seem to care about anything anymore, whether it’s his body—he’s willing to “do” just about anyone—or his career, even though his boss and more experienced coworker encourage him frequently to expand his cocktail-making horizons. Earnest Naoyuki can’t accept this attitude, and keeps pouring his concern and love onto Shinobu until the latter finally admits his reasons for keeping his distance.

While this kind of story and couple isn’t exactly groundbreaking—there are shades of Future Lovers in the humor and characterization—it makes for an engaging romance nonetheless. Naoyuki and Shinobu are both likably flawed, and the cast of supporting characters helps move the story along, though I could’ve done without Shinobu’s boss and his incestuous relationship with his teenage brother.

In the end, How to Capture a Martini is a lot of fun and pretty darn adorable. I’m looking forward to the sequel, How to Control a Sidecar, which is due later this spring.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

ZE 4 by Yuki Shimizu: C+

It’s maintenance time for the kami who serve the kotodama users of the Mitou family, which provides an opportunity to introduce some members of the extended family.

Volume three dealt primarily with the couple of Genma and Himi, an arc that carries over into the first few chapters of this volume. Himi, who had once been the kami of Genma’s father, protects his new master from an attack and “dies” as a result of his injuries. Genma is frantic to have him resurrected, but has trouble adjusting to the new Himi, who has the appearance of the original but none of his memories. I’d have more sympathy for Genma if he hadn’t been such a creep to Himi in the previous volume, but at least this is better than what follows.

After Himi’s maintenance is complete we meet a pair of extremely obnoxious twins and the kami they share. This whole episode—intended to be comedy, one assumes—is jarring because it doesn’t mesh at all with what’s just come before.

I seriously think the twins appear only because Shimizu wanted to draw a threesome, which is an example of ZE’s main problem. I’ve lost count of the characters who’ve appeared in this series so far, and it seems like mangaka Yuki Shimizu is focusing on variety rather than fleshing out any of the characters who’ve been present from the start. The guy who goes crazy for ice cream is still just the guy who goes crazy for ice cream, and nobody else seems poised to grow, either.

There were hints in earlier volumes of a larger story, and maybe those threads will be picked up again in the future, but I’m certainly not holding my breath.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Love*Com 15-16 by Aya Nakahara: B-

I used to like Love*Com very much, but as I read these two volumes the main thought going through my mind was, “Just end, already!”

End it eventually does, as volume sixteen sees the conclusion of the main story line (the seventeenth and final volume is comprised of short stories) , but before that can happen we must endure more chapters focusing on the supporting cast. First up is the transgendered Seiko, whose dreams of confessing to the boy she likes are stymied by the untimely deepening of her voice. Next, the whole gang takes a conveniently free trip to an unspecified tropical island to witness the wedding of a popular teacher, culminating in a rather immature freakout from Risa at the thought of sharing a room/bed with Ôtani.

As volume sixteen begins, the gang is planning for graduation, but instead of spending the final chapters on the main cast, some new random third-year girl is introduced for the purpose of providing a girlfriend for Kohori, Risa’s coworker who had a thing for her at one point. These chapters—in which the girl (Abe) attempts to break up Risa and Ôtani so that Risa can date Kohori and make him happy—are pretty pointless and predictable, though they do at least inspire Ôtani to dismiss the chances of them breaking up any time soon.

The final chapter of the main story, chapter 62, is nothing fantastic, but still manages to be satisfying. True to form, Risa and Ôtani are late to their graduation ceremony, and as punishment must deliver a speech that devolves into one final comedy routine. A DVD of classmate memories yields further testimonies of love from the protagonists, and everything ends on a sunny note.

I wish the volume had ended there as well, but instead there’s a bonus story about the singer/actor whose first big role was playing Ôtani in the Love*Com movie. It’s all about his struggles to achieve stardom and to get people to listen as he and his buddy play acoustic guitars out in public. It’s exceedingly boring, and memories of Negishi in Detroit Metal City performing the same sorts of gigs—with lyrics as sappy—kept intruding.

Love*Com has fallen a lot in my estimation since its early volumes, but I don’t regret persevering to the end. It should have ended sooner, definitely, and all the filler gets on my nerves, but I can’t really quibble with its warm and fuzzy finale.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

ZE 3 by Yuki Shimizu: C+

From the back cover:
When a kotodama-sama dies, his or her kami-sama—a healer made of living paper—typically chooses to die as well, returning to a blank state as “hakushi.” But when Himi’s master passes away, a deep sense of obligation forces him to choose another path. Instead, Himi becomes kami-sama for his master’s estranged son, Genma.

Genma is everything Himi’s former kotodama-sama was not—rough, arrogant, brutish—and furthermore, Genma enjoys using Himi for his own selfish pleasure. Is this more torment than Himi can endure? Or will he come to realize that different people show their true feelings in different ways?

Yuki Shimizu delves deeper into the Mitou family in this latest volume of her hit series!

Review:
ZE‘s focus on the members of a family full of magic users and their same-sex attendants allows mangaka Yuki Shimizu to change gears and feature other couples as she sees fit. While the opening volumes were more about the residents of a particular house, volume three branches out to the extended family with the tale of Himi, a kami, and Genma, the new master he receives after his old one dies. I can see the appeal of such a setup, as it allows Shimizu to present a variety of relationship types, but must admit that Himi and Genma’s tale does not thrill me.

There are certain moments between them that are quite nice. The revelation that Genma, the son of Himi’s original master, felt a combination of desire for and envy of Himi since his adolescence provides depth for a character who otherwise comes across as sadistic, and the cliffhanger on the final pages is both well paced and very well drawn. The majority of the time, though, their relationship consists of Genma demanding that his every sexual need be met and refusing to heed Himi’s protests. At least one scene could be construed as rape. This isn’t necessarily portrayed as being a romantic thing—Himi’s reactions are sometimes quite awful—but I get the feeling we’re supposed to feel like Genma has redeemed himself by the end, after a coworker vouches for his kindliness and he begins to actually confirm that Himi consents to what’s going on.

It’s really quite disturbing and I feel kind of bad that I’m not giving the volume a lower score as a result, but I continue to enjoy Shimizu’s intriguing world building and her expressive art. Volume four is more of Himi and Genma’s story, and I hope I’ll like it better now that they seem to have established a little more equality in their relationship. We shall see.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Banana Fish 2 by Akimi Yoshida: A-

From the back cover:
When Dino arranges Ash’s frame-up for the murder of a man he had motive to kill twenty times over, an “accident” behind bars is on the agenda. But in the same prison is Max Lobo, a journalist himself on the trail of the enigma code-named Banana Fish…

Review:
After reading more of Banana Fish, I wonder why I ever thought it was slow. The second volume is positively action-packed, starting with the murder of Ash’s right-hand man and leading to his imprisonment for a homicide he didn’t commit but totally would have if someone else didn’t beat him to it.

Some cops who believe in Ash’s innocence conspire to get him a protective cellmate, journalist Max Lobo, rather than a sleazy one, but this doesn’t prevent Ash from falling victim to a gang rape (thankfully off-camera). Ash and Max seem to get on well at first, but a mention of Banana Fish (whom Max reveals to be a person) leads to the revelation that Max served in Vietnam with Ash’s older brother, Griff. Rather than be heartened by this news, Ash blames Max for what happened to Griff and promises to kill him.

We learn a lot more about Ash in this volume. Much is made of his intelligence, either derisively—like when Dino and his lackeys remark that if he were really smart, he’d care about his men less—or with surprise that becomes respect, like when Max notes that Ash is not only keenly perceptive, but also reads “obscure books and alternative newspapers.” It takes a few more days of Ash’s acquaintance for Max to also realize that Ash is incredibly calculating and that, when harm seems to befall him, it just might be part of his master plan. “Unpredictable” also describes him well.

Plot-wise, Banana Fish feels a lot like a seinen series. The concept of a lone protagonist fighting against something larger than himself is certainly common to works for that demographic. This makes me wonder how exactly this series shows its shojo origins. Besides the proliferation of gay characters, who are typically of the predatory older man variety, I think the main difference is in the presentation of Ash. There are definitely moments when one thinks, “He’s so cool!”—like his chilly dismissal of Max after learning of his connection to Griff—but there are also moments when one thinks, “He’s so broken!” We don’t know a lot of what he endured at Dino’s hands as a child, but it was undoubtedly awful and has everything to do with his present-day distrust of adults and pursuit of self-reliance.

This makes it all the more remarkable, then, that he seems to form an immediate bond with Eiji. Eiji’s not seen a lot in this volume, but he’s the one to whom Ash entrusts an important errand, and his failure to complete it successfully upsets him greatly. In only a short acquaintance, Ash’s goals have become Eiji’s goals, even though they’ve never been fully explained. There’s the sense that Eiji has the potential to help heal Ash, too, but I worry he might get hurt by occupying Ash’s violent world for too long.

I was reading Matt Thorn’s interview with Moto Hagio yesterday (hosted at The Comics Journal), and they talked about the theme of synchronicity that often crops up in Hagio’s works. To quote Thorn, “Also related is the notion of synchronicity, in this case meaning a powerful resonance between two or more characters who often seem to be extremely different from one another.” I think that is exactly what’s going on here.

Sarasah 2-3 by Ryu Ryang: B-

Sarasah, which starts off as the story of Ji-Hae and the romantic obsession for an aloof and decidedly disinterested classmate that compels her to travel back in time to put right a misstep from their past lives (while disguised as a boy, naturally), widens its scope in these two volumes to include hidden motivations and political agendas.

The incorporation of these elements into the story is a vast improvement, as it gives Ja-Yun (the past life equivalent of Ji-Hae’s modern love) more of a personality, fleshes out the character of Bub-Min (a nobleman who knows Ji-Hae’s true gender), and gives Ji-Hae something to think about besides boys. Both Ja-Yun and Bub-Min are using her for their own purposes, and therefore take some of the focus away from Ji-Hae, whom I still can’t like, despite some improvement in her behavior.

Ryu Ryang’s art continues to be attractive, and the introduction of Misa-Heul, leader of the hwa-rang group to which Ja-Yun belongs, adds another bishounen to the cast. And even though spindly boys with bee-stung lips are not my personal preference, I can’t deny that the cover of this volume, which features Ja-Yun in all his aqua-haired glory, beguiles me with its prettiness.

After reading the first volume, I didn’t have much interest in continuing with this series. Now, though, I am at least marginally intrigued about where this story could be headed.

Review copy for volume three provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Phantom Dream 5 by Natsuki Takaya: B

In this, the final volume of Phantom Dream, the millennium-long battle between the Gekka and Otoya families comes to a close. Before this can happen, we learn all about the villain’s painful background and what really happened 1000 years ago. Unfortunately, the authorial sidebars spoil one major plot twist (it would’ve been nice if there had been a spoiler warning), but luckily fail to ruin the best revelation of all, one which was actually set up three volumes ago. Overall, the conclusion is a satisfying one and I surprised myself by sniffling a few times.

That said, a few things did bother me. As a child, Hira (the villain) was forced to endure many years of imprisonment because of his powers and demonic appearance (that’s him on the cover). At various points, the length of his incarceration is stated as ten years, fifteen years, and nearly ten years. I’m not sure whether this is the fault of the original material or the translation, but it’s a distracting inconsistency. Also, the motivations of an antagonist are unclear; I found it hard to reconcile their past actions with their present ones.

Phantom Dream certainly improved as it progressed; while it was initially hard to see how the same hand could have produced this and the lovely Fruits Basket, by the end the connection is clear. While I didn’t like Takaya’s other early series, Tsubasa: Those with Wings, enough to hang onto it after I’d finished, this one is a keeper.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Phantom Dream 4 by Natsuki Takaya: B-

From the back cover:
Eiji’s life hangs in the balance as factions once again shift and realign. Asahi struggles with her new powers and guilt over what happened in the past, while Tamaki strives to control the continuing outbreak of chaos in the present. And a mysterious new figure emerges to join the battle, but is he an ally or an enemy?!

Fruits Basket creator Natsuki Takaya delivers a story of love, loss and the redemptive power of forgiveness in this heartbreaking story of star-crossed lovers bound by a responsibility that may destroy them.

Review:
Say what you will about shounen manga, the fact remains that they know how to stage a battle. Even conflicts with minor foes tend to last a couple of chapters, allowing one to fully appreciate the scope of the event. Contrast this with Natsuki Takaya’s treatment of the showdown between our hero, Tamaki Otoya, and King Hira, the villain with a grudge against humanity for murdering his true love a thousand years ago. Here’s how the fight goes down:

1. Someone holds a glowing finger aloft.
2. King Hira falls down.
3. The end.

Despite the fact that this is entirely underwhelming, the series still could and should have ended here, as we get some nice scenes of Hira-induced chaos and decent resolution regarding Asahi’s motives for defecting to the other side. While not technically dead, Hira is left with only two attendants, one of whom is more devoted to her fellow servant than to the king himself.

Unfortunately, the story will continue for one more volume. It’ll probably be padded out with more of Takaya’s attempts to get us to care about the one-sided loves of the supporting characters, but events just move too swiftly in this series for any of these people to make much of an impression.

In the end, Phantom Dream is a decent story with occasionally compelling moments, but is overall more notable for what it could have been than for what it really is.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

One Piece 16-18 by Eiichiro Oda: B+

If there remains anyone who doubts that One Piece is something special in the world of shounen manga, they need only read these three volumes to be convinced.

Volume sixteen begins with Luffy and Sanji on their way up a treacherous, snowy mountain to deliver a feverish Nami to the only doctor (Kureha) left on Drum Island. They’re waylaid by some giant killer bunnies, but an avalanche puts a stop to their conflict. I have never loved One Piece so well as in the first two chapters here, in which Luffy demonstrates his lack of antagonism towards those who’ve done him no real wrong by helping free a trapped bunny. This act earns him the respect of the pack, who then come to his aid as the evil former monarch of Drum Island attacks. Yes, I know this is probably the single most sappy moment in the history of this series, but that doesn’t change the fact that Oda executes it really, really well and that I loved it to pieces.

The whole Drum Island arc is excellent, really. We meet Chopper, a blue-nosed reindeer who ate the human-human fruit and can now perform a variety of human/reindeer transformations. He’s studying medicine under Kureha and entranced with the idea of pirates, but weighed down by a lifetime of being shunned for his oddness. His backstory is sad, as they usually are in this series, but Luffy’s unbridled acceptance (and demonstration of his own bizarre abilities) finally convinces Chopper that he has finally found the place he belongs. A good bit of fighting is involved, too, but these warm and affecting character moments are really the highlight of the series for me.

After a touching resolution, the gang is ready to set sail for Alabasta, Princess Vivi’s homeland, which is in the midst of rebellion. Awesomely, quite a few others are converging on that destination as well, and volumes seventeen and eighteen focus on introducing more of the elite agents of Baroque Works as well as explaining the organization’s hierarchy. Baroque Works is shaping up to be a wonderful enemy, with quirky characters (like Mr. 2 Bon Clay, who likes nothing so well as a good pirouette), cool resources (like transport turtles), and internal rivalries. I’m much more interested in them than the plight of Vivi’s people, actually, though I did enjoy learning more about her past.

Unfortunately, Alabasta’s desert climate brings out some of the worst in Luffy, who, despite valiantly helping some villagers and taking up Vivi’s cause as his own, is nonetheless extremely stupid when it comes to keeping a low profile or rationing supplies. Yes, I know, I should simply believe that everything will work out fine for his crew, because it always does, but I can’t help being frustrated by his occasional idiocy.

While I’ve truly enjoyed One Piece, these volumes got me excited for what’s to come in a way that’s new. In fact, I couldn’t help splurging at the library the other day and came home with a veritable armload of volumes. It really is that good. If you’re looking for a shounen series with heart, look no further.