After being rejected by her first love because of her superhuman strength, Riko is trying to live as unremarkable a life as possible. She believes that the only way she’s going to fall in love is to be “normal,” but this point of view is challenged by the dramatic arrival (with gun and menacing retinue) of rich boy Ran Tachibana, who barges into her classroom one day and proposes marriage.

Unlike her first love, when Ran caught a glimpse of Riko’s abilities he was smitten and his unstoppable pursuit leads him to transfer to her school. Ran’s got quite a few enemies, so his proximity involves Riko in all sorts of dangerous situations involving assassins and treacherous friends, but his acceptance of her as she is gradually endears her to him despite all the chaos he introduces into her life.

In no way did I expect to enjoy Flower in a Storm as much as I did. In fact, I remember reading the back cover description aloud to someone and the two of us groaning. In reality, though, it’s actually a lot of fun, even though some of the situations the leads find themselves in are fairly ridiculous. Ran might be outrageous, but the fact that he appreciates Ran for her competence and independence goes a long way toward making his presumptive actions more tolerable. Also, this isn’t one of those series where the domineering guy must come to the aid of the helpless heroine; instead, they do their fair share of rescuing each other.

After Ran and Riko’s tale comes to a nice stopping point, there’s a bonus story called “Need for Artificial Respiration.” It’s about a girl, Toko, with a bad reputation at school due to frequently being spotted kissing different guys. After having his first kiss stolen by Toko while napping in a classroom, Kiyoharu becomes interested in figuring out why she does what she does. The answer is rather surprising, but the story is quite good and definitely more interesting than many bonus stories tend to be.

I like Takagi-sensei’s art a lot, especially Ran’s character design. Riko resembles the title character from Alice in the Country of Hearts, but Ran—with his tied-back hair and impressive collection of stylish specs—has a look all his own that I actually find kind of sexy. Also, there’s just something about Takagi’s angular profiles that reminds me at times of Tomoko Yamashita, creator of Dining Bar Akira.

Ultimately, Flower in a Storm was a very pleasant surprise. Probably a story like this would fizzle out over a long serialization, but the fact that it concludes in its second volume (due in August) reassures me that its end will be as unexpectedly entertaining as its beginning.

Flower in a Storm is published in English by VIZ. Volume one is available now and the second and final volume will be out in August.

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

Miku Yamada has a problem: the boy she likes, Kyohei Fujioka, is oblivious to her feelings. When she attempts to give him chocolates for Valentine’s Day, he cheerfully offers to help her practice confessing her love for someone else. He seems to be more affected by memories of a childhood friend than by her, but occasionally makes comments that cause her to believe she has a chance. How can she make him realize she likes him?

The back cover would have us believe that Miku is an unfortunate victim of Fujioka’s obstinate obtuseness, but readers will soon realize that this is not actually the case. Miku can’t seem to decide whether she truly wants Fujioka to know how she feels, which leads to vehement denials of her feelings and episodes where she treats him quite shabbily. How could Fujioka, who is admittedly rather dim, be expected to correctly interpret these actions?

As one might surmise, it’s very difficult to like Miku, even though her melodramatic behavior is not outside the realm of possibility for a lovelorn teen. Statements like, “I’m going to become an amazing girl so Fujioka will fall for me!” rankle, too, since I tend to prefer heroines with something on their minds other than boys. The end product is a very shallow story, more suitable for young teens than veteran shojo readers, though it does improve near the end of the volume when Miku’s message is finally clear enough for Fujioka to understand. Fujioka’s response is not only perfectly in character, but also age-appropriate, promising more interesting circumstances to come as the characters progress into their second year of high school.

Cactus’s Secret was serialized in Ribon magazine, and boy, does it show. All characters possess the distinctive eyes common to works from that publication, and screen tone is abundant. There’s even an author’s note where Haruta writes about being chastised for using insufficient tone! As a result, the artwork, while reasonably attractive, is essentially indistinguishable from anything else in Ribon. That said, I do think Fujioka’s character design is pretty cute.

On the subject of author’s notes, the flaws of Cactus’s Secret might be excused with Haruta’s revelation that the deadline for chapter four occurred on the same day as her high school graduation. On its own merits, this manga might not be anything special, but when one considers that it was created by a high school student, it starts to look downright impressive.

Cactus’s Secret was originally serialized in Ribon and is complete in four volumes. Only one volume has been released in English so far.

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

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.