I wonder how Togashi himself feels, moving around his hundreds of chess pieces on his massive, three-dimensional chessboard. Surely he himself has a clear ending in mind, right? How could anyone possibly have the confidence to throw this many balls into the air and start juggling, with no idea how the performance will end? Any other author would leave me certain that the Dark Continent, or at least the Succession Arc in particular, will end in unfocused, shambling tears – but this is Togashi, and he pulled off Chimera Ant, so I’ll give him as much rope as he needs. As for this volume in particular, Togashi works very hard to simplify the sprawling madness of the boat setup into three core, parallel conflicts, each of them intersecting, each of them containing within them a variety of sub-conflicts. Let’s start where the volume itself starts, and dig right in!

Conflict One: Kurapika Versus Basically Everyone

The exhaustingly tense Kurapika focus that carried all through volume thirty-five continues here, and his material has to work the hardest for a variety of reasons. For one thing, Kurapika himself is most closely attached to every conflict here – as a good-hearted member of the hunter association who’s directly tied to their leadership, currently working for one of the princes, and personally invested in the demise of the spiders, Kurapika’s feelings and obligations tie directly to pretty much every single conflict onboard. It might have initially seemed arbitrary to have Leorio call him in, but in retrospect, Kurapika is perfectly positioned to be at the eye of this storm.

Kurapika’s material is also messy because, well, nen is messy, and this arc is exploring nen in more practical and specific ways than pretty much any prior arc. Early conversations about how having one prince secede might possibly lead to the “risk-reward tradeoff” of the nen beasts “collapsing” highlight the awkwardness of this focus. If one prince withdrew and the nen beasts all disappeared, that would indeed be a very convenient resolution to this conflict – a resolution so convenient that it only highlights how when it comes to nen, there’s a fine line between “my powers work because of these clear limitations” and “my powers work because a wizard did it, and I can change them anytime if the wizard says so.”

At the heart of nen as a system of powers is the idea that nen presents power in equivalent exchange for something else – be that personal exhaustion, sacrifice, or restrictions on the use of those powers. This is a nebulously defined balance without any clear one-to-one ratios, and it’s generally kept deliberately vague, because it works more in an emotional sense than a tactical sense. Sacrificing for power “feels” right, and as long as the mechanical basis of this tradeoff feels sturdy, it allows Hunter x Hunter to get away with crazy tricks ranging from Kurapika’s totally overpowered chains to Gon’s even-more-ridiculous Chimera Ant powerup, all because they “feel” like “natural” reflections of the tradeoff. But as Kurapika draws more and more direct attention to the limitations of this tradeoff, he risks highlighting creaky elements of Hunter x Hunter’s worldbuilding that have up until now been intentionally obfuscated. Hunter x Hunter loves going deep on tactically defined and fully explained dramatic setups, but the nature of nen demands a certain mystique that this arc occasionally comes close to dispelling.

Finally, the last reason Kurapika’s material is so messy is that there’s just so damn much going on, and Togashi refuses to simplify any of it, even down to the motives of individual guards. These chapters work hard to impress some clarity on these conflicts, hanging on clear dramatic hooks like “finding the killer within the training segments,” but it feels like Kurapika is essentially fighting the tide of an arc that’s intent on making sure every single character here has their own feelings and objectives.

Prince Benjamin’s motives are fairly clear, but what of those of his two guards attending Kurapika’s training sessions? One seems to mirror Benjamin’s own sadism and ruthlessness, while the other seems to echo his cunning, and perhaps even possess some sympathy for Woble. What about this conversation, where Kurapika and the eighth prince’s guard each desire peace, but the third prince’s representative is merely echoing their sentiments to gain more information. What about this small conflict (one of my favorites from this volume), where Kurapika has to work to convince an overly zealous guard that he himself is trustworthy. Heck, I can’t even honestly say “overly zealous” – there have already been murders, Kurapika’s an unknown factor, and as the guard himself notes, the hunter association’s goals don’t necessarily align with his own. There is a maddening degree of both tactical and human complexity here, and it’s so overwhelming that I’m just going to go ahead and leap to conflict number two.

Conflict Two: Spiders and Mobsters and Clowns, Oh My

So, the Spiders have arrived. I initially figured their introduction would just contribute to the unfocused madness of Dark Continent, but as it turns out, they’ve actually resulted in a degree of clarity. Like how last volume’s introduction of Kurapika being able to give others powers essentially solved one of his arc’s big dramatic issues, the Spiders reduce the many logistical sub-conflicts of the boat’s lower decks into one larger goal: a race to find Hisoka. Unsurprisingly, the same generosity of characterization that Togashi applies to the various princes’ guards also applies to the spiders – they’re depicted as intelligent, concerned for each other, and at times very funny, to the point where it seems clear Togashi’s realized they’re just too valuable as characters to be stuck playing villains. Hisoka is an elemental force who cares about no one, making him a great villain – the spiders are all charming criminals who care about each other, making them something closer to dashing rogues.

Here on the big boat, the Spiders are currently focused on getting revenge on their old friend Hisoka. Stuck in the lower tiers, their introduction thus becomes a natural way to establish the links between this country’s upper and lower stratas of society – the spiders connect with the mafia, who are themselves connected to three of the princes. Some of the best segments of this volume focus on the unique relationships developing between the Spiders and the more traditional mafia, like this terrific character introduction, where a low-level mafia boss’s strength is emphasized not through physical prowess, but through the fact that he negotiates calmly and forcefully with Chrollo in spite of risking death the entire time. Other segments delight in very different ways, like the unsurprising fact that most mafia underlings are absolutely starstruck by seeing the big celebrities of their industry. This is a tense arc so far, but the Spiders are turning out to be an incredibly welcome jolt of levity in the proceedings.

Conflict Three: One Two, Princes Kneel Before You (That’s What I Said Now)

This last conflict’s a bit of a hedge, but it feels distinct enough from the overarching prince war that I’d call it a core conflict in its own right. That said, this volume also has plenty of juicy development in the prince war – for those who actually want all the tactical variables laid out, not only is this volume awash in hilariously necessary spreadsheets, but it also features begins the slow trickle of reveals about their various nen beasts. But beyond that, these chapters also focus on the two characters beyond Oito who feel like genuine innocents in this situation: Prince Kacho and Prince Fugetsu.

In their own ways, each of these two young princes seem to embody a major fragment of Hunter x Hunter’s appeal. Kacho is double-faced, clever, and desperate; she has no powers, but she has Melody on her side, and the two of them together engage in some of this volume’s most quietly satisfying acts of subterfuge. Meanwhile, Fugetsu’s discovery of her own power leans into Hunter x Hunter’s more fantastical conflicts, mixing nen-based joy of discovery with concern for her sister. On the whole, Kacho and Fugetsu both seem like nearly powerless yet courageous young women who, at their core, are each most invested in making sure their sister survives. If this arc itself has a heart, I have to imagine their survival will be crucial to its resolution.

Which Leaves Us With…

…I have no clue. The blunt fact of it is, we are currently too early in Dark Continent to even really begin to address it in terms of “what’s this all about.” Hunter x Hunter generally prioritizes these tactical, ground-floor conflicts, and they are intensely satisfying to see set up and executed, but this manga wouldn’t be nearly as beloved as it is if these tactical conflicts didn’t ultimately reflect deeply on human nature, infusing arcs like Chimera Ant with tons of the stuff I love to ramble about. Right now, with dramatic reveals still being made every few chapters, it feels like critiquing the themes of Dark Continent (or Succession, if that’s an arc unto itself) would be like critiquing Chimera Ant’s themes before the king was even born. I could say it’s about family, because yeah, Kacho, Fugetsu, and Oito all seem to be positioned as the dramatic counterpoints to their bloodthirsty relatives, but the fact of it is that I wouldn’t be surprised if all three of them somehow died in the next chapter and this story continued without them. I know it’s unbelievable, but Togashi is still clearing his throat. Don’t worry, we’ll get there.

Epilogue

I feel a little bad that this already-oversized article focused entirely on structural concerns over page-to-page visual storytelling, so let’s run down a few of my favorite moments for fun. First off, Camilla’s coat is amazing, and results in a wonderfully dramatic character profile as she storms down the hall. There are more neat tricks of panel framing throughout, from segments that dispense with panels to create a sort of tonal framing device, to others that use panel boundaries themselves for unique dramatic effect. Finally, this last pair of panels, where a power that’s conveyed in extreme detail in the first panel is in the second reduced to one chilling image, the trail of saliva connecting them. Hunter x Hunter is a buffet of riches, and always leaves me with far too much to say. God damn this beautiful, ridiculous manga.

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