Hello everyone, and welcome to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re going to be engaging in a somewhat unusual exercise, as I’ve been assigned a unique request: expand this tweet on Bleach characters’ Ichigo and Rukia’s suitability as a couple into an entire article. I was initially intending to decline, because it was a tossed-off tweet about a series I hadn’t fully read in decades, more intended to be an emotionally charged stab of nostalgic resentment than a critical thesis. But upon further reflection, it does feel like there’s a bit more meat to this feeling than “the couple I liked didn’t get together.” Framed more generally, the narrative failings of Bleach stand as a handy example of the narrative pitfalls of shonen storytelling altogether – so let’s dig into this topic a little, and see what we can suss out.
Tag Archives: Manga
Dead Dead Demons and the Banality of Apocalypse
Late in Dead Dead Demons’ first volume, its boisterous heroine Ontan stares out over the city of Tokyo, a vast alien mothership hanging silently above. In spite of the imminent threat, the city is quiet. After months of frantic news reports, the mothership has become just another feature of the skyline, an accepted feature of the modern age. Ontan has news for her complacent city. “Everyone seems to have forgotten what happened that day, and are living their peaceful lives as if it’s a given. But I have something I’d like to tell them: there’s no such thing as an endless summer break!”
Blue Flag – Volume 2
Blue Flag’s second volume starts off with a reminder of the first thing that struck me about the first volume: the careful attention this story pays to the way clothes hang on the body, and project confidence, insecurity, or any manner of other emotions purely in the fit of the fabric.
It’s fitting for a story about adolescence to be preoccupied as well with the awkward physicality of our outfits – how some of us seem to exude natural confidence at all times, while others seem perpetually uncomfortable in their own skin. It’s also fitting for a story by KAITO, who is so capable of conveying emotions through presentation, as with their masterful use of paneling. Gaining comfort with both our bodies and our feelings is a circuitous learning process, and though some of Blue Flag’s leads seem more confident in their clothes than others, they all struggle with the difficulty of presenting an authentic self.
Spirit Circle: A Comfortable Boredom
“It’s hard for me to hate you,” Touko admits in Spirit Circle’s fifth volume. This isn’t a happy revelation. It’s spoken with bitterness, more of an accusation than an apology. And it’s easy to see why: hating Fuuta makes everything easier for Touko.
With Fuuta serving as the target of her rage, all of the injustices that have befallen Touko make a certain kind of sense. In our chaotic and frequently tragic world, it can be comforting to believe all of your problems are a result of some specific antagonist, some malevolent force that is specifically denying you the happiness you deserve. The idea of getting revenge for a grudge inherently implies some faith or hope in the order of things. When you were wronged, that was a deviation from how things are “supposed” to go, and you must “set things right” by punishing the person who caused this deviation. We cling to villains because the truth is much scarier – that life is simply chaotic without purpose, and bad things often happen to good people.
Spirit Circle: What We Keep, and What We Leave Behind
Initially, Kouko’s demand that Fuuta relive his past lives must have felt like a kind of divine punishment. Dragged out of his happy, oblivious adolescent experience, he has been forced to experience hardship after hardship, carrying the suffering of multiple lives on his own shoulders. Fuuta’s past lives don’t even possess the decency to merely lurk in memory; they surge upwards at the most inopportune times, tainting his current experiences with the stifling taste of old, unfulfilled grudges and regrets. Thanks to Kouko, Fuuta carries his past with him always, living with one foot dragging through a mist of half-forgotten sentiment.
My Hero Academia, Volume 22 – Review
My reviews of the My Hero Academia manga continue today, though I’m personally far more occupied dealing with the final challenges of preview week. To be honest, I’m mostly linking this review here as an excuse for a general check-in; it’s currently looking like new premieres will be more or less concluded by Sunday, so you can expect my Virtually Every First Episode Retrospective the Monday after that. That’s right, I am TIMELY motherfuckers, and will be back on the Current Projects circuit right after that. In the meantime, this volume of My Hero Academia was great, and I hope you enjoy my review!
One Piece – Volume 19
We return to One Piece in the midst of its Alabasta arc, as we’re presumably nearing the climax of the overarching “Baroque Works” era. I haven’t actually read One Piece before, but given this final confrontation will involve squaring off against the actual leader of the Baroque Works pirates, and prompt either the fruition or destruction of the plan he’s been concocting for literally years, I have at least a certain degree of confidence that this arc will resolve the overall Baroque Works saga. So how does the view look from this point, as we near the conclusion of such a crucial conflict?
Blue Flag – Volume 1
The first thing that struck me about Blue Flag was its attention to detail in terms of how clothing hangs on the bodies of its characters. For a great deal of manga, those classic school uniforms might as well be attached to the characters themselves, moving neatly in sequence with their own movements. But in Blue Flag, the unique stresses and hanging edges of clothes that don’t quite fit you are always apparent. You can see where the cast’s clothes stretch, see the lines of bone beneath the fabric, and see how different characters either successfully transform their uniforms into an expression of self, or resign themselves to the shapelessness of clothes that never quite fit them.
Planetes and the Great Man’s Shadow
Planetes’ second volume describes the allure of conquering space in familiar terms, as it sets the stage for protagonist Hachimaki’s attempts to join the first manned voyage to Jupiter. Its synopsis opens with “in the history of space travel, many great men have forged the way into great frontiers, and many great men have died so that others may continue further into the great reaches of space.” It goes on to describe Hachimaki’s dream of traveling to Jupiter and joining this hallowed pantheon, but its frame of reference for history and society is already set by those first few words. Though Planetes is about many things, in its second volume, it could perhaps most clearly be described as a story about the mythology of the Great Man.
The Dream and the Dark – Planetes, Volume 1
The first image of Makoto Yukimura’s Planetes features protagonist Hachimaki in a bulky space suit, staring up at nothing, standing on nothing. The earth lies vast and silent beneath him, but his eyes are drawn upwards, towards something we cannot see. Without the earth in frame, the scene would feel almost peaceful; in light of its presence, Hachimaki seems terribly vulnerable, as if he’s suspended on a glass surface over an endless abyss. The shot is likely Planetes’ most defining image; a composition that simultaneously conveys the vastness of space, our fragility as we hang in its grasp, and the mundanity of turning this inspiring, terrifying expanse into your garbage removal workspace.